#still feel very strongly that this is a necessary healing thing I gotta work on & now is the time for it but ohhhh my goddddd (-: whatever

[satanfemme]

sorry for another late night serious post but attempting to unrepress shit in order to work thru it properly is all fun and games until u remember why you repressed it in the first place

[shtern-and-art]

I have more questions because it's no longer 4am lmao.

Does Skeppy fear any animals? I just wanna know if there's any sweet moments of Skeppy clinging to Bad whilst he tries to calm him down.

I'm guessing Bad still hates things like littering and woodcutters but would he ever act particularly strongly about it or would he have more control?

I like how Rat seems to tolerate Skeppy because Bad likes him but would she ever get jealous if Skeppy started pettting another dog?

I have a horrifying image of Bad just spider climbing up a tree to fetch Skeppy. I don't know why but I feel like dude wouldn't even need branches lmao.

What other supernatural creatures/people do they come across? Were there any that were especially dangerous and did they befriend any?

Is Bad much physically stronger than Skeppy? I keep thinking of Skeppy being a little shaz and Bad just one-arm picking him up and slinging him over his shoulder XD.

Does Bad ever get nightmares of the day he became the forest spirit?

How far would Skeppy take stealing? Would he steal something he knows the owner has genuine attachment to? Would he do everything in his power to steal something for Bad even if it means getting hurt?

Who's more likely to protect the other?

Skeppy just minding his business looking at one of Bad's textbooks, turns his head and Bad's just having a tea party with a freaking bear. Surprised the man hasn't had a heart attack yet XD.

What's your favourite thing to imagine them doing?

Is Bsd an adrenaline junky? Or is he scared of more dangerous things like bungee jumping and mountain climbing.

What would their reactions be to rollercoasters?

Do they have a favourite date-night activity?

Everytime I think of this au it brightens my mood!! Thank you for making something so heartwarming!! <3

Glad to see you again :D And yaay, questions!

My pen pressure broke again, I can't finish any sketches for this ask rn, but here's a couple of old messy designs.

1) Comforting and nightmares

Skeppy has a normal, I’d even say adequate level of fear towards wild animals, whilst Bad has it in negative numbers. And, yes, this fun juxtaposition leads to a lot of unfortunate moments of Skeppy nearly dying from heart attack when some of Bad’s animal friends show up unexpectedly, or Bad goes all out for his tea-parties with wild bears or smth.

So, yes, sometimes the comforting hugs are necessary! And no, none of them ever play up the dramaticness of the situation just to drag out the nice comforting moment They do n o t. That’d be very silly and unnecessary, and will deserve a lot of teasing. So, it’s all serious. Not only for the first couple minutes. Yes.

But If you’re looking for comfort-after-actual-hurt – Bad does have to hold and comfort Skeppy, when the stress of trying to not fuck up the good stuff around him gets too strong. And after the nightmares where they are hated and chased by people. Those dreams do not come often, but when they do, Bad is there to hold Skeppy, whisper in his hair that he is alright, that they’re both alright, and that they can handle everything that’s going on right now.

And Bad himself, well. After leaving the town, his nightmares about the night of the ritual stopped almost completely. They come rarely, only when the anxiety gets really bad. Before, in the forest, Bad had them pretty often. It’s one of the reasons he mostly slept not as himself, but in the minds of the animals.

2) Littering

Bad will not maim someone for not getting a candy wrapper in a trashcan, especially if there are people around. But if someone leaves a big mess in the nature, or even (*gasp*) does it regularly, Bad can and will try and teach them a lesson. As in: pull a cautionary (and probably slightly terrifying) prank on the misbehaving person.

It doesn’t always work out as Bad intended, and may even scare some people off anything relating to nature for good, but, according to Bad, it’s still “a fun and useful little hobby to have :3”.

3) Rat

Rat takes a looong time to warm up to any other animals that infringe on her territory. And Skeppy might be a little shit (and his own rights for Bad are debatable) but he is Rat’s territory still (by approximation from Bad). So, she can gatekeep Skeppy a little bit. Not as much as she does Bad, but the man gotta know his place – Rat comes before other dogs for him too.

4) Tree climbing and strength

Oh, Bad can an will climb down a tree like a full-on creepy creature he is: head down, using only his claws, with Skeppy tucked under one arm. Maybe not even upside down, if Skeppy is lucky, and wasn’t too annoying about wanting to stay up on the tree for the night :D

5) Meeting other spn creatures

Oh, that’s a big question (: Yes, they do meet other cryptids, befriend some, and get in trouble with some, and deal with a handful of new and old spn troubles :D

I always thought that Bad and Skeppy’s life after the main story can make a series of short stories (or one big episodic one) dealing with exactly that: the guys traveling around, meeting other cryptids, learning more about themselves and the world, trying to build a life between human and supernatural crisis going on. Just like In The Dark it can based on the mix between the real life and the minecraft-verse events.

I wanted to focus more on finishing the main story first, though, so these stories are not as sought through, I didn’t even write down any of them yet :D

But if you have more concrete questions, ideas, or suggestions (about a specific person, or a specific thing happening) – write me, I’ll think about it, and how it can work with the theme and worldbuilding I have in mind.

6) Stealing + Protectiveness

Skeppy can sometimes forget about, ahem, moral principles, or human decency… emphasis oh “human”. He’s nature and different worldview it gives, it seeps through in his life and actions even more with age. Especially after he’s been away from actual people for a long while. So, I guess, he might at times steal something that is very important to someone, or do something that could be considered weird or rude in general.

And if Bad really needs something, or is in danger – all rules are down. If there is no one to reality check Skeppy, he might proceed to walk on heads, and commit risky and reckless crimes just to help or save Bad.

They both are quite bad with that, the protecting each other thing. Bad, tho, can be more fiscally violent in his protectiveness.

7) Adrenaline and rollercoasters

Well, it’s not that Bad likes adrenaline specifically, he’s just very curious, likes to try new things, and is almost unkillable. So he can just- just go for everything that’s interesting for him with reckless abandon, and if it goes wrong – welp. Bones can heal limbs can regrow, and the cool abandoned caves will not explore themselves. He’ll have to learn to ease up with lack of selfcare though. Because Bad can’t always leave Skeppy to fend for himself, while he heals, and Skeppy does NOT like seeing Bad getting hurt so much, and not caring about himself at all.

This probably comes back to Bad dealing with his spn nature and learning to make peace between it and himself. And to his anxiety, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

And hey, it’s the same for Skeppy and his lack of adequate moral compass at times :D

There will be a lot of tension and growing they’d have to do in regards to all this.

Also Skeppy is the one who’s really into chasing the thrills :D Man spent nearly half a year annoying probably-murderous-forest-spirit just for little not-boring fun, jeez :DD

Rollercoasters are a no go, tho. They go up in the air, real high, and, once again, Skeppy and highs do not mix, they do not mingle, they will not have tea parties (with or without bears). Unless, of course, Skeppy really needs to prove something. Then he’ll go on a ride, and die an honorable death, and will never admit he screamed all the way through it.

8) Dates

(*insert an innuendo from Skeppy here*) But, ahm, actually I’d say they love going on picnics: getting food, and hanging around in the nature for a while.

And I honestly donno what I like to think about the most… I just really enjoy the vibe and the atmosphere of the whole story, and how Bad and Skeppy interact in general.

It all is a real delight to write about :D

---

In The Dark - masterpost

[prkcr]

hey there demons, it’s me, ya girl...again. and if you don’t know who i am, then my name is sam, she / her, 21, est timezone and i’m so excited to be here! i wasn’t feeling very inspired with luna so i decided to switch her out with an old favorite muse of mine! ( truly i......love this garbage can SO MUCH. ) that being said, let’s look at the theories! aka i’m a buzzfeed unsolved stan and parker’s intro will be under the cut, so feel free to give that a look and message me if you would like to plot!

「 DANIEL SHARMAN, CISMALE, 27, RISE AGAINST. 」┈ did you read that latest viral gossip issue on RILEY PARKER?  he is the LEAD GUITARIST in RENEGADE, one of my favorite HARDCORE PUNK groups. they’ve been releasing music for FIVE YEARS now, but viral gossip has only been talking about them for the last MONTH. get this, i think i heard HE COULD BE FACING JAIL TIME DUE TO AN ALTERCATION WITH PAPARAZZI. they’re known as the MISFIT of the music industry, since they have a rep for being DAUNTLESS but TEMERARIOUS, but who knows. maybe that will change once they become #1.

so, this guy right here...riley ignatius parker...will throw hands if you call him anything other than parker. it’s what everyone calls him. you gotta be really special to call him riley and not immediately get decked for it

parker was born to a wealthy family in a small but affluent village called alderley edge in cheshire, england. his family is stupid rich, hails from a long line of architects and business people. he spent his early years sheltered and pampered and homeschooled by tutors and nannies, so his parents never spent much time with him, but that’s okay because he never really got along with his parents anyway.

has an identical twin brother named rian who he never ever talks about mostly because they absolutely DESPISE each other. rian thinks parker is a disgrace to their family name, parker thinks his brother is a sheep who turned out exactly like their parents because he always did whatever they said without question. they haven’t seen each other in ages and for the longest time all their interactions have ended in ( usually physical ) fights anyway.

parker’s always been a HUGE TROUBLEMAKER with a restless nature and desire to ~be free~, so his wealthy, uptight, lowkey shady af parents who are obsessed with the family’s image could never really deal with him and eventually resorted to sending him off to boarding schools all over england, just one after the other bc ofc he kept getting kicked out for one reason or another. 

about the only thing he enjoyed about his childhood and schooling were his music lessons. he was taught to play piano, violin, and even the harp. other things like math and history and science didn’t come easily to him at all, but music? he was great at it, and he’s always loved it. during his teen years while away at boarding school was when he first procured an electric guitar and learned to play. along with that, he also discovered punk music, aka the greatest thing in the entire fucking universe if you ask him. far as music goes, he'd found his calling in his early teenage years, but it would take a while for that to really feel legitimate to parker.

he was basically that rebellious kid in all the movies who wore doc martens with his prim & proper school uniform and carried around a pocket knife and cut class to go smoke while vandalizing school property and would absolutely fuck up some prissy pretty boy’s face just for looking at him the wrong way.

literally the only reason he actually graduated rather than flunking out or getting kicked out of every fancy boarding school in the uk was because his father was able to pull some strings aka bought his very last boarding school a whole new library wing. parker did actually consider running away a few times, but there was a part of him really reaaaaally deep down that actually enjoyed some aspects of school ( though he very strongly believes many education systems across the world need a serious overhaul and blahblahblah don’t ask him unless you want a lecture ). anyway, the moment he was done with school, he did finally skip out on...well, everything and everyone and ditched the country altogether, heading out first to new york city for about two years, then california for the last seven.

he’s been completely independent of his parents since the age of 18 and hasn’t had any access to their money since they cut him off for basically running away from home and since renegade only recently hit it big, he’s probably still a little poor tbh.

and since moving to california he’s been jumping from disgusting apartment to disgusting apartment and from shitty job to shitty job. played in various bands on the side, mostly for fun and even sometimes as a frontman himself, but when he joined renegade about five years ago as the lead guitarist, he immediately knew that this was his place. parker absolutely loves being in the band and wouldn’t trade it for anything at all. that being said, the fame that’s sorta popped in out of nowhere in the past month ( ever since renegade signed with a major record label ) has been...something else. being that he’s from a prominent and wealthy family he’s quite used to attention, but he’s also one of those everyone in hollywood is so fake where’s the real people making real music types and seeing as he has a very very short temper...well, parker’s already got a reputation for being a bad boy and yeah, he actually kind of is. he’s especially not a big fan of the paparazzi and is known to be very rude with them and get into actual physical fights with them he will throw hands with a n y o n e i’m telling you. his most recent run - in with a photographer who wouldn’t leave him alone even after parker told him to fuck off a few times ended in him being charged with assault and battery. long story short, he beat the guy’s face in with his own camera. parker’s...eh about it. he doesn’t really care? if you ask him, the guy should’ve just left alone when he told him to and it’s not like parker hasn’t been to jail before. he’s a vandal, a thief, gets into fights more often than he breathes but hey he usually wins so there’s that

i think that’s all i have for backstory atm though i will update this post if i ever feel it necessary. anyway, onto personality!

looks like he could kill you and could actually kill you

that’s it that’s all you need to know

nah jk there’s actually a few more things! first off, he’s basically the living breathing personification of the jerk with a heart of gold tv trope. so, he seems like a major jerk most of the time and that’s because he kind of is. especially around hollywood people, he’s standoffish and snide and just all - around has a bad attitude. he’s very short tempered and impulsive af, but underneath all of that he’s actually an observant and caring person. like, he’s not very book smart but he’s good at reading people and WOW DOES HE FEEL EVERYTHING SO DEEPLY. he’s a ridiculously passionate person. he feels everything all the time. every emotion is felt in extremes and the one that’s usually most prominent? ANGER.

see, parker is just a very angry person because he’s seen the way things are in the world. he’s lived a life of wealth and unimaginable opulence, but then he’s also been so poor that he’s slept beside dumpsters in alleyways. there are so many people out there who need healing in so many ways and he’s seen it for himself so he knows it’s true. yet, nobody really seems to wanna help. so many people seem to be involved in activism for show or for good person points and he just he HATES it. he constantly wants to scream about all of the unfair things going on in the world and how much he wants to just make them better because he is actually a rather compassionate person when someone is in need.

like, he’s the type of guy who says thank you to waiters and janitors and average, working class people — though i imagine anyone who doesn’t know him very well would be surprised by that.

thinks robin hood was a guy with some great ideas

feminist af

extremely sarcastic

also extremely english. he talks with a very thick accent ( similar to how daniel sharman talks actually if you wanted that point of reference for some reason ) and yeah, he’s fulfilling a stereotype here but he doesn’t care — he loves a good cup of tea.

not usually one to initiate conversations but once he actually gets into talking he can be a pretty cool person to talk with. he actually has a lot to say about many different topics and if you can handle his constant like every other word swearing, then parker might just be your guy to have a deep af conversation with at 3am

along that deep af vein, he enjoys the songwriting process a lot and i imagine he’s very involved in it with renegade. he totally doesn’t seem like the type, but he’s got this old messy notebook that he takes with him everywhere and it’s just full of song ideas and other random things. it’s basically a physical manifestation of parker’s brain, so he’s probably not about to just hand it off to some random person. if you want notebook privileges then he’s gotta trust you that’s just how it is

also, a total lovesick fool when he's got a thing for someone — a soft but only for you type and it’s highkey cute af

doesn’t care much for wealth at all. he’s lived that life before, didn’t like it, and these days he’d rather wear his favorite old band shirt stained with motor oil and eat greasy diner food ( mostly french fries ) than have some grandiose celebrity experience. 

not the easiest person to befriend or be friends with, but if you do have him for a friend then guess what? you have him FOR LIFE. parker is super loyal — a true ride or die but don’t fuck it up with him because if you do he will hold a grudge forever

which reminds me: he’s got a motorcycle and HE LOVES IT. he pretty much built it himself from scratch and it’s just...it’s literally his child ok he will FREAK IF YOU TOUCH HIS MOTORCYCLE OK /F R E A K/ LIKE DON’T EVEN LOOK AT IT THE WRONG WAY

i feel like his reputation precedes him even though he hasn’t been around very long and that’s definitely thanks that messy altercation with the paparazzi. like, he literally beat this photographer up with his own fucking camera?? word has definitely gotten around and i think some people might be wary or even afraid of him?? 

though really aside from his short temper he really is and really tries to be a decent guy. anyone who knows him well would see that very clearly and honestly, that’s probably why they stick around even though he can be very difficult.

i think that’s probably enough from me for the moment, right? there’s probably some stuff i’m forgetting, but if i don’t get to a bio page then i’ll just edit this with anything else. i also don’t have a plot page yet but i definitely want all of the connections, so please do feel free to message me if you would like to plot! i’m so excited to write with you all!

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #08: Ours

The camera feed clicked on to reveal an unfamiliar setting. Not the animals of the Bronx Zoo or the dramatic, iconic skyline of Manhattan, but a humble gym. There was a boxing ring in the center, and around that were areas for free weights, stationary bikes, treadmills, and bags both heavy and speed. Calisthenics and jump ropes, too. Nothing was overly fancy but the place was clean and well kept, with all the equipment in good working order. NSFW were standing by a wall to one side, next to what looked to be the door to an office, a slightly tarnished brass nameplate reading ‘K. McGuire, Proprietor.’ John Bishop Church, clad in his usual blue jeans, favorite Reebok sneakers, and a standard tourist issue ‘I Heart NY’shirt, had his back to the camera, perusing a wall of framed photographs. A pretty woman in a professional grade swimsuit and cap, holding aloft a silver medal on a podium. An older photo of a young man with red hair in his twenties in a football uniform, grinning a familiar crooked smile and holding a trophy. A little girl with a boyish haircut posing with a Little League team, all boys otherwise. That same girl now in her twenties, shaking hands with a surly looking but slightly smiling old man with tight, curly blonde hair. An autographed still shoot with her fists up and a cocky little grin, bearing the logo of a once famous but now defunct promotion. Various action shots from outlaw mud show promotions, a little older and wearier in each. And finally, the newest of the bunch, that same girl, now a woman in her mid thirties, aside the very same man who’s observing the photo now. A veritable family hall of fame. However, one of the frames was empty save for the reflection in its glass pane. Only one accomplishment could fill that empty space. Finally, the camera focused on its wielder, grinning the same grin as the man in the football photo albeit with a noticeable scab on her lower lip, before being set in its tripod. Mike McGuire, in her Mets cap, custom Mets jersey with her last name and the number 6 on the back, and her own battered blue jeans and red Converse, took a few steps back. “Say Hey, EWC faithful! It’s ya boys, NSFW, and we are… home. Well, my home. I was born and raised in this city. Fuck, I was born and raised in this very borough, and this gym? Heh. It’s called ‘Big Mike’s’. My dad owns it, he’s run the place for years now.” She looked around, a somewhat soft expression on her face. A pang of nostalgia, perhaps. “Now, I’m getting a little personal here, Faithful. Maybe, some would say, this ain’t that good of an idea, especially considering the nature of some people I have to work with. I mean, if some walking gilded fungus can have his literal pet monster try to snatch me up like a goddamn hen on national television, what won’t they stoop to? But nah. I ain’t scared. Dad ain’t scared neither. He’s a big dude, he can take care of himself. Just like I took care of Grizzly Duggan all by my lonesome! Heh. Let’s talk about Grizzly for a sec, shall we?” Cracking her knuckles, Mike turns to the wall as well. “See, if you’re going to bring up my family history, Duggan, I might as well go right to the source and set your dumb ass straight. This handsome dude right here? That’s my dad, Kerrigan ‘Kerry’ McGuire. All-Pro QB for the Syracuse Orangemen back in the day. This lovely lady here in the Olympic issue Speedo one-piece? That’s my mom, Liz McGuire. Well, it was Liz Hanneman then. That’s her with an honest to fucking goodness silver medal. 100 meter individual medley. Now, you might make some cute comment about ‘second place being first loser’ or whatever inane bullfuck you were trying to spew last week, but I’ll tell you what, show me YOUR Olympic medal and then we’ll talk. Until then, shut your goddamn yap. As a matter of fact, shut your yap anyway. You’re not wrestling my parents. You weren’t last week and you won’t be now, so go fuck yourself.” John finally interjected. Pointer finger in the air. “That laziness. That lack of attention to detail is the Duggan way. I understand the need to be analytical but amongst your clumsy water metaphors, you showed that you just love to hear yourself talk with what you think are clever quips. Most marred by the fact that you don’t know what show you’ll be appearing on day to day. Or a distinct lack of ability to comprehend the information you glean from the internet.” He turned around to face the camera. His complexion looked healthier. Over a week of relative relaxation had allowed him to heal his wounds. Not 100%, but he’d never admit as such. Mike joined him and smiled at her partner warmly as he continued. “Mike can fend for herself. You learned that in Miami. I’m not going to fight her battles. Duggan, I find you loathsome and reprehensible but it is clear with your attitude that you clearly don’t care what anyone thinks of your words or actions. Even your partner. But now, in less than a week, it is our battle. It is NSFW’s golden opportunity.” “I had a feeling in my bones it’d happen here. I was hoping to hell that it would. You see, Mucho Grande, I hate to break this to you but you’re walking headlong into the fucking lion’s den. We have momentum. We have all the right moves in all the right places. We have perfect synchrony- Duggan, does Carlos even like you that much anymore? I mean, I wouldn’t if I were him. But most of all? We have an insane homefield advantage. The Bronx loves me, and… let’s be honest, who doesn’t love my partner? He’s awesome.” John smirked. More and more everyday he liked an occasional compliment. “But this isn’t a fairy tale. Our ascension has been through hard work and sacrifice. A lot of this game. This right here. I detest it. I look forward to the moment we stand across from Duggan and Ruiz and we can show them just how ready we are. This, though, is that necessary evil. And so henceforth, there will be a gathering of soundbytes that are volleyed back and forth in an attempt to discredit each other’s paths to this very moment. Duggan has already mocked the credibility of our opposition. And so I guess we could do the same. But when you honestly think about it: what path?” John paused to let that query to his opponents set in. “After that victory over us that you like to hold over our heads…” “...where, might I add, you didn’t even fucking pin us, you pinned a trio of chest thumping jerkoffs…” “...you all but disappeared for nearly two months. Ruiz attributed it to some calculated strategy. Those don’t sound like the words of a fighter to me. Maybe you can lay the blame on the former champion. But in that lull, Mucho Grande’s representation of this division amounted to Ruiz handing Duggan a loss against someone whose only claim to fame now is beating Grizzly Duggan. And a bout against a team that isn’t a team and won’t ever be a team. Since you’ve become champions, your lone contribution is being put through a table by The Limit.” “Sorry to break it to you boys, but that’s not the kind of impact you wanna be making as champions.” “You may be noticing a trend here. What Duggan said. What Duggan did. And that’s unfortunate. Carlos Ruiz is a premier athlete and if circumstances were different, I’d consider him a good friend. I know my partner is fond of him.” Mike raised a hand, her smile more than a little bit sheepish. “Guilty. I can’t help myself. The man is an absolute sweetheart and I gotta admit, I’m a sucker for nice guys.” John’s expression, though, was a little cold. Possibly distant in response. “If there is one word that could describe Carlos Ruiz right now, it would be complicit. Duggan’s ignorance pours out from his mouth and Carlos, considered a class act, can’t seem to put a muzzle on Duggan’s tendency towards being outright problematic. A monster amongst men babbling about his victimhood. Rambling about hypocrisy and oppression when all that matters is what goes on between those two bells.” His attention shifted directly to Duggan. “I saw what my partner said last week. Maybe not my way. But the anger was valid. That’s why I ‘put up with Mike’, Duggan. Because she’s my friend. She doesn’t mince words in a world that wants to silence the voices of those who don’t get the leniency and opportunities that are afforded to a man of limited means and ability such as Grizzly Duggan just because of his physical stature.” Back to Carlos. “But Carlos, don’t get me wrong. I admire your athleticism and commitment to positivity. And in July, you had us dead to rights. Mike and even I thought that we were all but guaranteed to come out victorious. And you called us out on it. We were too confident and didn’t consider that two people so mismatched could stack up against the embodiment of tag team wrestling. Maybe that was even arrogance on our part. You two humbled us that night. The fact still remains, though. NSFW is tag team wrestling. And Mucho Grande are the undefeated champions of this division. Undefeated in definition only. Indecisive victories based on technicalities or against company wide punching bags are something you never expand on.” Mike gave a low whistle, expression duly impressed. She usually was when Bishop spoke at length- after all, he rarely did so unless his words meant something. “Whether you pinned us or not, hey, a win is a win and at the end of the day, right now, you ARE the fuckin’ EWC Tag Team Champions, a--” Suddenly, the office door swung open and a man stepped into view- a big, friendly faced, strongly built fellow, perhaps with a small bit of a belly due to age but arms that look as if they could effortlessly bearhug anybody into submission. His red hair was grey at the temples, and his eyes were a very familiar deep green. When he spoke, his pleasant boom of a voice carried a slight but noticeable brogue. “Ooops. Sorry, Mikey, are you two still doin’ your thing?” John, just being introduced to this man earlier today, turned to him and gave him a respectful nod. “Yes, sir.” “We won’t be a ton longer, Dad. Just gotta finish this up realquick.” Kerry McGuire gave a warm, broad smile. “Okay. Keep goin’, honey, you’re doin’ a great job!” Giving the two a very ‘dad’ thumbs up, Kerry ducked back into his office, shutting the door. Mike shook her head with a light snicker and continued on. “Anyway. Where was I before my dad gave us an impromptu cameo? Oh yeah. The titles. Whether or not we’re being too cocky about it, the fact remains that as far as we’re concerned, you’ve been keeping our belts warm for us. This is the fucking culmination of not just months of work, but years. I’ve mentioned before who trained me and I ain’t gonna name drop him every other week. Look at the fucking wall if you’re confused. But what have I managed to accomplish with that? A lot of work with a lot of people in a lot of federations. I’ve wrestled from coast to coast and loved damn near every minute of it, but what do I have to show for it? Pictures. Some old merch. And this frame here. This empty frame’s been here for years. It’s supposed to have a picture of me as champion. Any fucking championship would’ve been enough to fill this frame but it’s just been gathering dust.” She reached out and ran a finger across the empty glass. No actual dust, but no picture either. “Maybe that’s been partially my own fault. Too much dicking around and being a good-time Charlie. Partially happenstance. Feds didn’t work out or shut up from under me. When I stopped, when I ground to a goddamn halt in Pittsburgh, I wasn’t ready to hang up my boots but I was also sick of smashing my face into an invisible fucking wall. So I opened a garage and made a decent living. Three bedroom house with one and a half baths and a dilapidated-ass ring in the backyard because I just couldn’t give up the dream entirely. The end.” Mike shrugged, but then looked to her left, a warm little smile flicking across her face. Her hand reached to the side slightly. “Then this guy showed up like a bolt from the damn blue and said his car was on fire.” Perhaps subconsciously, he obliged the gesture and put his hand into hers. A simple sign of unity. “Lost and nowhere to go. A downward spiral into obscurity. Duggan, there is no doubt in my mind that in an effort to fill air time you’ll regurgitate what you think you know about me. About Mike. About NSFW. We’re saving you some time. Who is Bishop Church? Ace Heart essentially posed that question earlier this year. And I was honest. I didn’t know. The word potential defined me in the days of my youth. Could have taken so many different paths. There were rumblings that I could join esteemed company in representing the United States in the Olympics after a sterling amatuer wrestling career. Didn’t happen. Throughout 1996, the west coast professional wrestling scene considered me their hottest prospect. But that all crumbled to ashes. What happened is a matter of public record. I am done explaining myself to a minority that latches itself desperately to conspiracies. I am here right now for a reason. And I stand before you as something I have always wanted to be.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “Twenty years late, I’ve found a little piece of self-actualization. The Television championship was nice. Despite that, I’ve been written off as apathetic. Or selfish. Never given credit for the success I’ve earned. Those sentiments repeatedly echoed by people that ironically aren’t even here anymore. Washed out. Or people who might as well not be here these days. But yes, the TV belt. It was a special moment. But it wasn’t NSFW’s moment. And that is what matters to me. I’ve heard that our fans have deemed our meeting as fate.” Mike chuckled a bit, tilting the brim of her cap back a little further with her free hand. The other remained firmly clasped in her partner’s. “Fate’s a fanciful-ass word. But the more time goes on, the more I’m starting to believe just that. But what about you, Grande Guys? What’s your fuckin’ story? How’d you find each other? Was it fate? Some twist of seren-fuckin’-dipity? Or are you just a couple of guys in a professional business arrangement? I mean, maybe there’s mutual respect there, but there’s no way you two jive in the same way we do.” “Just seems like you’re here. And that just isn’t enough anymore. There has been too much of that as of late. The tag team championships are at the end of this long and beaten path for us. I won’t be so cliche to say that the tag team championships are our world title. That’s not the right comparison. The tag team division hasn’t had champions that could make that claim for some time. A delusional con man. You two. Proud champions but hardly seen together as a team. And even those that were considered the creme of the crop managed to just represent the division a handful of times over their year long reign. So caught up in their singles goals, they dusted off the belts every once in awhile to participate against an anemic crop of adversaries. Mucho Grande is a repeat of that in a future without us. The tag team championships are an afterthought to greater aspirations.” “Not with us though. Last week the remark was made that I was ‘coming off my tag team exclusivity kick’. This is not a fucking ‘kick’. It’s not a phase, a stepping stone, or a springboard. I… we… are NSFW first and foremost. NSFW is our priority, our fucking life. What we do, we do together. And what about you on that? Can you stick like we do, or is ambition gonna get in the way? I don’t think you can. Because for us, tag-team wrestling’sNot Secondary, it’s our Fucking World.” Their clasped hands squeezed each other a little tighter. Both of them gazed at the camera straight on. “We are NSFW.” “And at Rumble in the Bronx? We’re gonna prove once and for all that this ain’t aboutredemption.” “We are taking what’s ours.” They’d finished up filming shortly after. No second takes were needed- they rarely were. Mr. McGuire sent them off with a cheery ‘it was great meetin’ you’ to John, an invitation to work out at Big Mike’s for free during their stay, and a suggestion to Mike that a new park had recently opened up at Hunts Point by the food distribution center and ‘it’s really nice, maybe you two ought to go check it out’. The wink he’d given his only child was, for once, subtle, and Mike felt themself blush a bit. Were they really that transparent? Then again, they’d talked at length on the phone about their partner to their father, and though they tried to play it cool the affection in their tone had probably been too much to conceal. In any case, they’d decided to take their dad up on his suggestion. So here they both were, leaning against the metal railing of the new fishing pier, looking out across the East River to Queens on the other side. The sun was starting to dip, coloring the wide expanse of water tints of pink and orange in reflection of the sky. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this here. I mean I hoped… I knew this show was coming for ages now and I hoped I’d get to be on it. I just never fucking dreamed we’d be having the most important match of our goddamn lives here.” Mike laughed, and raised a hand up to tuck a windblown lock of red hair behind their ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited in my entire fucking life. I feel like a shook-up Coke bottle.” “I can tell.” There was no bite in his tone. He was used to the hyperness but the energy resonated within him, too. Ever since he stepped off the plane. New York City. Mike’s home. Long periods of isolation had wiped away an identity he could call his own. And now, he started to assimilate to their ways. Their home. The city was loud and colorful. Without Mike, it would be intimidating. But there they were, reassuring every step of the way. By now they had been to dozens of cities all over the world but this was different. So many stories. There was a twinge of jealousy that he brushed away quickly. Wishing he could recall what made him who he was before all of this. But now in the murky reflection of the water, he saw a possibility. To put words to that open book. Something lingered. And it was strange. It seemed like a grand adventure and the goal was laid bare. Tag team champions. To fulfill a self-ordained destiny. Every proclamation. Every obstacle shattered. It all led to this. Professional wrestling rediscovered as his passion and he also found some measure of success in it. But yes, something lingered. It clicked against his brain like an obstruction and he desperately wanted to break through. “It’s been more than a few days.” It was blunt and to the point. “I guess it has, huh?” They’d promised. And while they weren’t usually in the business of breaking promises to begin with, they knew doubly sure not to break ones that they made to him. As they’d learned, John did not take any form of dishonesty well. Looking down into the water, they sighed, their electric mood fizzling somewhat, that resigned sadness bleeding into their face. “It’s over, bud. That’s why I was so sad a couple weeks back.” “Natalie.” “Yep. She had her reasons, was nice about it, nice’s you can be about dumping somebody I guess. Still hurt though. Hurt a damn lot.” John tapped his fingers against the metal railing lightly. “I liked her.” He caught himself in the finality of that statement and clarified. “Still do. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” “So am I. But… I mean I’m not over it, maybe I won’t be over it for a long fucking time in some ways. But I’m not gonna let it sour everything. I can’t. I’m not gonna go into the biggest and most important moment in our careers all sad an’ fuckin’ mopey. Being here helps. Being here with you helps more.” Mike smiled, looking out over the water. “Do you like it here? Even if we didn’t have this big fuckin’ thing, I couldn’t wait to come here and show you everything. I wanna do all the best stuff with you till we leave. All the typical NYC stuff but all the cool stuff the tourists don’t know about, too.” “I like it.” For the next few moments, there was just the sound of the water’s current. “Reasons, nice or not, I expected anger. It would have been normal. But your response was abrupt. Burned away.” There wasn’t going to be any retreating from the topic. But maybe that’d be best in the long run anyway. If they didn’t deal with it, it’d probably just rot and cause problems later. They sighed. “This was different. It hurt too much to be pissed about. Plus… her reasoning made sense, I guess. I mean, I couldn’t be mad at something that was my own damn fault.” Normally, he’d let it go. Despite their closeness as partners, their familiarity even, he felt there were walls built around them that he couldn’t get through. Harkening back to the days where it was necessary to have the sanctuary of flowers to hide amongst. “Can’t blame yourself for someone else’s feelings.” Another pause. They close their eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Taking strength from the sounds of the city they loved. His strong presence beside them. “Nope. But I can blame myself for mine.” They smiled sadly. “She didn’t want to be with me anymore because she could tell how I felt about you. That at the end of the day, I never wanna leave you. I want to be with you all the fuckin’ time, and I don’t ever wanna be apart from you. I wanna be at your right hand till the day I fuckin’ die, and she knew that even though I tried not to show it. So… she let me go so I could.” Their eyes shone through a watery veil, even though a smile was on their lips. John turned to them, resting a forearm on the rail. He looked at them quizzically. Words that had been said in the recent months came rushing back. Plain confessions that would register to anyone but him. That perplexed him. Made him want to beat against the walls of his mind. “Isn’t that what this is already? We’re a team. Partners. You’re my best friend.” “And you’re mine.” Their hand slid over close to his, and they turned to him, their free hand wiping their eyes dry in a quick motion. “But I guess what I want along with that is… I mean if you want it, too? And I mean, really want it and not just ‘cuz I fuckin’ do? Is to just… I want to be with you and nobody else in the same way. My house’s your house. So it’s our house. My ring is your ring, so it’s our ring. And I want my life to be our life.” They blushed a little, hoping he’d understand what they meant. The gravity of it. The three words usually said in this situation tended to be misconstrued, but this meant the same. “Yeah.” In the mind’s eye, imagine that obstruction. Steel rods braced against a barrier. Clarity beating forth. The steel creaked. Trembled. The wall bent in. The essence it contained seeping forth in little cracks throughout. The reality though was that there was no bringing it down. There was no cure to what ailed him. It was just who he happened to be. But, he smiled shortly in affirmation. They had after all been that helping hand even in the earliest days of their partnership. Sitting there seemingly all alone. Life support failing. And there they were, just to take him for a ride. What a wild ride it has been. And it’s not over. The pinnacle of their profession was within grasp. But so was something else. “Our life.” Mike laughed, a sound both bright and tearful, but not the same sort of tearful as the past weeks. This sound was joyful. “John. Hey. Um, can I-- I mean it’s okay if you don’t want me to, but-- can I kiss you? Please?” He blinked and for a moment they were afraid he wouldn’t want to, that they’d just made things terribly awkward. But then he smiled and nodded just slightly. Beaming ear to ear and biting back a peal of giddy laughter, Mike moved closer. John turned toward her. The toes of their sneakers touched, and both their hands slipped effortlessly into his. They rose up on their toes. Their eyes slipped shut but they could feel him leaning down to meet them. The kiss was a chaste one, relatively tame by an outsider’s standards. No tongues, no furious gobbling of each other’s faces, nothing of the sort. But as their lips met, Mike gave him all the tender sweetness that was belied by their rough, raucous, foul-mouthed exterior. Anything that was missed in their words, hopefully that kiss made up for it. They parted, and both of them laughed a little, in a happily nervous sort of way. Their gaze held. It was John who spoke first. “What now?” “Hell if I know.”