#its FUCKING IRONIC i go through in cut some MAJOR BULLSHIT OUTTA MY LIFE

[kurtbrussels]

you may be surprised to know,, ive only been home for a week now n my life is already full of the most Unnecessary Bullshit

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #2.5: Zombie Flesh Eaters

It was always astonishing how small the world really seemed from this high up. NSFW would be landing in Medellin in an hour or so. They had left their home base after only a sparse couple days in Pittsburgh. They could have made a straight shot right from Cusco to Medellin- it would have meant less time airborne and more sightseeing- but they had an important appointment that couldn’t be delayed. So home they’d gone, and in their brief time there they hadn’t simply dealt with what was necessary, they’d spoken at length of things they wanted to see and do while in Colombia. However, at the end of the day, it all cycled back to what they were going there for in the first place. The ascent back up to the top- perhaps less literal than the ascent they’d taken together back in Peru, the grand pinnacle being the city full of the ghosts of a long-passed civilization, but no less strenuous. To prove to smirking, haughty Cross Reboca and his vicious, desperate partner that they weren’t going away, that they would be breathing down their necks as long as they held the Chimeras. Of course, that meant clearing away any obstacles in their path. The obstacle now, strangely enough, was the team that they first thought they would be chasing upon their imminent arrival to Valor Pro. Things had changed rather quickly. Now, with Cuba below them, its buildings in miniature from this altitude, Mike found themselves musing about the peculiar pair, representatives of an even more peculiar group. Giving a glance to their partner, who seemed enthralled by the view of the world from above, Mike looked to their phone, raising an eyebrow at the camera. “To be honest, I don’t really get it. I mean I wanna get it. I want to like you guys. You seem cool, and your mission statement is on point. I mean, after spending the last couple shows fighting against the fuckin’ paragons of self-serving bullshit, a team whose mission statement is to improve the world around them is a goddamn breath of fresh air.” Tucking their hands behind their head, Mike glanced past their partner out the window, shrugging. Their Mets cap was turned to the side, the brim tilted in an almost jaunty manner over their left ear. They and their partner were both clad in jean shorts and sneakers, as well as tank tops to beat the heat wave that’d been gripping Pittsburgh when they left it- Mike’s a plain white ribbed Fruit of the Loom number, John’s a heather grey with deliberately faded text reading ‘Property of Pittsburgh Penguins Hockey Club’, likely a gift from the redhead at his side. “And it ain’t like we don’t got shit in common. For one, we both got screwed worse than the recipient of the world’s biggest gangbang by ReKota- you got screwed out of the Chimeras, and we got screwed out of obtaining them, because actually playing fair and winning by your own goddamn mettle seems to be a foreign fucking concept to them. They don’t care as much as we do. You two. Me and Church. Those belts mean more to people like us than they do to a rich boy and his spoiled bitch. In all of this, Zombie Vice Squad and NSFW agree.” Their lips twitched as if in thought, and then pursed into a thin line. Their eyes narrowed to match. “But then I really start to think about your methods. It sounds nice on paper, yeah? We’re here to make the world a better place. We’re here to bring everyone up to our standards. And this is where you guys stop sounding magnanimous and start sounding fucking authoritarian.” John listened intently. He began to speak and his tone was just audible enough for the camera to pick it up. His fingers touched the window lightly.   “Mike. Kowloon, Siberia, they’re as legitimate as tag teams come. Inaugural champions. Impressive pedigree,” maybe perhaps dismissively, he waived that off, “that won’t matter. It never does. Ours didn’t matter. What mattered is one malicious act and three seconds later and our claim to the throne evaporated. But nowadays, you tune in and it's an alphabet soup of irrelevance. Spending precious time talking about anything but Valor Pro. Our little piece of this sport has been overtaken by complaining, petty vengeance, legal proceedings, and the melodrama of who created who.” His shoulders shrugged, eyes still towards the glass. The camera was angled so by Mike that it caught John’s reflection in the window anyway. “Getting away from what matters. Tag team wrestling.” “That’s what it’s all about. That’s all it should be about. If you have some kind of bigger agenda it should be secondary or you’re never gonna win. Not because you ain’t talented. I mean, Kowloon seems to make a point that he worships the Gods of Swole at the Temple of Iron. Dude, you might be cut like a gemstone but that ain’t gonna make a lick of difference. That conditioned body of yours might look nicer than mine…” Mike looked over their bare arms, their toned musculature going taut as they tighten their fists, but the scars of assorted shapes, lengths, and ages standing out even more against their skin. If they were self conscious about them, they were doing their damnedest not to show it. “...but that just means it’ll make a prettier picture when I lay you out flat. Again, I ain’t saying this outta fuckin’ disrespect. I’m sayin’ it cuz that’s what’s going to happen. Of course, you probably think the same damn thing. You’re a lot like me, Kowloon- a two fisted fighter with a temper on you. Which is real interesting, especially when you think about your partner. Siberia, as cool a customer as my partner. It’s almost like you two are some weird alternate universe version of us.” They smirked a little. “In another circumstance? It’d be cool to get to know you better. You two… probably all four of you… sound like you’ve been through fresh fucking hell. You smell like smoke cuz you’ve walked through fire. We can relate. We saw what you said about us before- you were smart enough to see through Berlin and Brenna’s bullcrap and we like that too. We could almost be friends, or at least allies. Least… till we start falling short of whatever gold standard you’ve set for humanity in fuckin’ general.” “We aren’t those two. Whatever they have outside of all of this clearly did not translate well as a tag team.” A slight curve of his lips appeared in the reflection. A tiny bit of him felt the development was serendipity as Brenna’s biting words had been silenced in such a casual fashion. But most of all, he felt the act was cruel. “And who would doubt the tenacity of the inaugural Chimera Tag Team Champions? In one form or another, the Zombie Clan buzzsawed their way through a myriad of now imploded, temporary, and dearly departed teams to secure that honor. But we aren’t them either.” “You may come kinda close, but the fact remains- there ain’t no one like us but us. Where others falter and fall back, we stand tall. We’ve seen teams come and go- hopefully the ones here’ll have a bit more fuckin’ longevity than the ones from where we left. We call things as we see ‘em, and never mince words or shy away from calling people out where it’s warranted. But Church and me, we would never be so fuckin’ self important, so dismissive of peoples’ fuckin’ free will, that we would go about whooping the tar ouf of people who didn’t live the way we thought they should.” Mike’s jaw set, eyes flashing a bit. There’s a slight quaver in their voice- not from lack of constitution, but from trying to keep their voice at an airplane-appropriate volume. “People are gonna do stupid shit. Stuff that’s maybe not that great for them. Or the people around them. They’re gonna… I dunno. Snort a line of coke off the giant yet perky titties of a military themed stripper named Major Gunns while totally blasted off Jaeger Bombs at the Pink Cannonballs in Orlando, Florida. Is that a good course of action? Probably fucking not. Do they deserve to get their teeth kicked in until they course correct? Fuck. No. Learning from bad life experiences is part of being fucking human. If everybody behaved themselves like good little drones under threat of beratement or beatings, it’d be under duress and nobody would ever learn a fucking thing.” For a moment, John turned to Mike, giving them a curious eyebrow raise to this oddly specific tale. He had a question on the tip of his tongue but with the camera on, he felt it better to barrel on through. “So spare us the moralizing. The Zombie Clan has aspirations to spread itself far and wide. And as of now, things seem to be working.  And while we respect those aforementioned accomplishments, Mike and I find it interesting that there seemed to be little resistance to when those championships were stolen from the Clan. Seemingly content with moving on to other matters. As vague and mysterious as those are, it seems a bit strange that Zombie Vice Squad rides again after we walked into this company … stepping over them.” Mike tisked, shaking their head. “And you could say that wasn’t your fuckin’ fault and I’d believe it. We know what happened and we already touched on it. That wasn’t a gaffe on you guys’ part, that was you getting screwed. But you know what WAS a gaffe on you guys’ part? Kowloon kapowing Siberia’s cute blue-haired butt right out of the ring during the Rite of Kings battle royal. Now, accidents happen, fuck knows. Kowloon, you seemed pretty fuckin’ distraught about it. But one’s gotta wonder…” They tapped their temple, a cheshire cat-like grin playing over their features. “...how does Miss Siberia feel about that? I wouldn’t blame her for being a tad bit fuckin’ miffed at you.” “We aren’t trying to create any dissension,” John’s smile was wry, “Trust us on that. Maybe that’s all been ironed out. Understand that we aren’t here to play for other prizes. There is only one that matters.” “No split vision here. My partner doesn’t have his sights on the Apex- let Callum and Cross and Cooper squabble about that shit. I don’t have my sights on the Unleashed Title- though honestly I’d love to fucking fight Aoki just to see how I do. The Chimeras are all we want. They’re worth being all we want. Those beautiful babies deserve better than to be someone’s second choice.” “They deserve better than to be held by a team that can’t go one week without bickering for the most inane reasons.” John’s thoughts went towards their defeat and despite the measure of comeuppance served to one Dakota Jennings, both of them were still empty handed. “But our claim to those championships has expired and we need to earn that chance all over again. Can’t think of a better way to make our case, Mike.” “Just call us a couple of zombie hunters. We know exactly what we need to do.” There’s that shark grin. Mike leaned into the shot, their devilish look filling up nearly the entire picture. “Look out for the teeth and aim for the fucking head.” The shot lingered on that grin another moment before the picture clicked off.