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panda-noosh · 5 years

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Change of Plans {Keith x Reader}{The Rockstar Series}

The Rockstar Series: a series of fics documenting rockstar!Voltron falling in love.

Words: 11.4k

Summary: Now that Keith Kogane is a rockstar, it’s become very difficult to decipher whether someone likes him for him, or for his money. So, he’s decided to just stay as far away from love as possible.

Genre: mild angst, fluff

Notes: masterlist - support my writing or ask me about commissions! - I HAVE ONE PART LEFT OF THE ROCKSTAR SERIES WTF

---

Keith Kogane does not care about relationships. He promises.

They're pointless. He has a whole career to concentrate on, meaning he has zero time for anything besides his music. He has zero time for anyone else besides the fans and his band mates.

That's the bottom line.

This is what Keith tells interviewers. It's what he tells fans when they ask him if he's single. It's what he tells his mother when she asks him when she's going to get some grand-kids.

In reality, there's a deeper reasoning behind Keith's slight hostility towards the topic of love.

Being a rock star isn't as easy as some people make it out to be. Sure, he's living the dream, and he wouldn't trade it for anything, but there's a level to it that not many people see. They don't like to dwell on this particular level, because it dims the seemingly perfect life that apparently comes with being a rock star.

This level includes not knowing who loves you, and who just wants you for the fame and money.

Contrary to what the public think, Keith Kogane has been in a few relationships during his time in the spotlight. Of course he has. He's a growing boy, experiencing new things, learning from mistakes – some of his mistakes just happen to contain other people, people whom he trusted before finding out they'd maxed out his credit card, or got mad at him for not putting their relationship on Instagram yet.

Yes. Keith Kogane has trusted a few people in his life, but no longer.

He made the promise a few years back, when his music career was reaching a new peak. Whilst his band mates were busy getting into relationships, somehow managing to find people who actually like them, Keith sheltered himself from that side of things as best he could. It wasn't worth the heartbreak. It wasn't worth the anxiety, either, which is the main reason Keith has decided to dedicate his life entirely to the music.

“I'm married to my bass,” he tells Pidge. It's early morning, and Pidge has just crept into Keith's hotel room due to her boredom. She flops down on the sofa in the corner, watching Keith ruffle up the back of his hair to get his go-to look.

“Right, well, that's just sad sounding,” she replies. “Matt has this friend who I think would suit you perfectly.”

“I'm not interested.”

“Why not?” Keith opens his mouth to reply, but Pidge raises a finger to silence him. “And don't tell me you're married to your bass. It's a bad way to hide your loneliness.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “I'm not lonely. Why don't you understand that not everyone wants a significant other? Before you met your partner, you didn't even mention getting into a relationship.”

“Yeah, but then I fell in love. It's difficult to ignore a socially anxious bartender, Keith.”

Keith scoffs.

Pidge sighs, letting her arm flop over the edge of the sofa. “I just don't want you to be on your own, man. You're a good guy.”

“Thanks.”

“You've just got trust issues.”

“No, I do not.”

“Yes, you do. How else would you explain this isolation you've got going on?”

Keith frowns. It doesn't matter how many times he explains to Pidge he's not isolating himself – the girl will never understand. She's been in a relationship for nearly two years now, and to everyone's surprise, she's certainly head over heels. Pidge was once one of those people who Keith thought he would have by his side forever, joined in harmony by their lack of love lives and their lack of caring.

But alas, that is not meant to be. Keith can put up with it.

So why can't Pidge put up with his decision?

“Can we drop this conversation?” Keith asks. “I'll find someone when I find someone.” Yeah, right. “Besides, I'm perfectly happy being on my own.”

Pidge frowns. She doesn't believe him, but Keith doesn't care. He stands up from his chair and heads towards the snack table, picking up his black bass on the way. Behind him, he can feel Pidge's eyes burning holes into the back of his head, but it doesn't matter – he's made his point, and he plans to stick by it.

He isn't going to get himself hurt. Not if he can help it.

----

Apparently, Smokey Saturdays is a big deal.

You'd heard of them before, of course. The new rising rock group with the millions of fans, and the members who broke hearts. Lance McClain is their front-man, from what you've read. They're on tour for half the year. They perform in sold out venues, and have paparazzi snapping pictures of them from behind bushes when all they want to do is go out to eat.

And apparently, you're their new bus driver.

It's an embarrassing comparison, you have to admit, but you have to pay the bills somehow. You're broke, you've got a drivers licence and an abundance of free time – so why not? When you applied for the job, you didn't think you would actually get it – and yet here you are now, standing in front of a massive black bus with the words 'SMOKEY SATURDAYS' written in red down the side of it. Plastered amongst the red lettering is a picture of the four members, an action shot that captures the sweat-soaked, good looking faces of each of them.

You have to bite your tongue to disguise your laugh.

“They might decide to stay in the hotel rooms,” Bruce, the owner of the bus, explains as he waves his massive hand across the exterior of the vehicle. “But there's beds in there for them, the fridge is kept full, there's a lounge area. The whole heap.”

You nod. “Right.”

“You can just stay up the front. Your job is to get them from point A to point B in time for their shows – not difficult to understand, is it?”

“It is not.”

“So do you understand what you have to do?”

He's talking to you like you're five years old. You're too busy staring at the faces of Smokey Saturdays to call him out on it. So, you slowly nod, hoping that is a sufficient enough answer for him to understand that he does not need to explain this job to a person who has been doing it for nearly a year and a half now.

Bruce smiles, gives you a cheery thumbs up before he wades off in the opposite direction, leaving you alone with his so-called pride and joy – his tour bus.

You step inside. It's not like you have a particular fondness for vehicles – you certainly don't. Most of the time, you can't even tell one car brand from the other, let alone admire them for anything other than surface level stuff. You can appreciate a nice bonnet, can comment on how nice a cars wheels are, but that's about as deep as your love for vehicles really goes.

You honestly just needed the money, and this job showed up on Indeed.com, and you applied for it. They saw you had a drivers licence and seemed to think you were a suitable candidate for the job, and here you are a year and a half later, parading one of the worlds biggest rock bands around the country.

The interior of the bus is leather – already off to a bad start.

Behind the drivers bay is an entire house. That's really what it looks like; bunk beds, sofas, a toilet in the back, a tiny little kitchen area that is blocked off only with an old shower curtain that's on the verge of falling off. There's cups hung up on the wall, and you make a mental note to go over every single pot hole you come across, just to see if the cups hold.

And placed on the coffee table that is nailed into the floor is a Smokey Saturdays poster.

You walk over and pick it up. The poster is the four of them lounging around a music studio, Lance holding a microphone with his hair spiked up, Hunk leaning against a drum kit, Pidge lounging across a sofa with a bass pressed against her knees.

And then there's Keith, leaning against the door in the background with his head down and his bass leaning against his long, slim legs that are hidden beneath a pair of too-tight black skinny jeans. There's a rip in the knee, revealing a bit of pale skin. His black hair is falling in his eyes with the way his head is down, and you wonder if he still has a mullet.

Keith is attractive, you will fully admit.

You've never been the type to latch on to the boy-band-type. You like a celebrity more for their music than anything else, but you would be a liar or a fool to claim that Keith Kogane does not have a side of good looks to him. Though you don't know too much about him, you've seen the posters. You've seen the album covers. You've seen the screenshots taken from interviews, where he's casually gazing at the floor, tapping at his leg, lounging against the chair as Lance and Hunk and Pidge take the reigns; he's just got that casual aura about him, and adding that to the black clothes and the cheeky little smirk he wears when he gets a compliment – god, he knows how to make his audience go insane.

Not like you're part of his audience. You're just his fucking bus driver.

You head back to the drivers bay and sit down. Pulling the keys from your pocket, you set them on the dashboard before finally turning to the radio. There's an array of buttons, all of which you know the meaning of – but you immediately go for the radio. Of course, Bruce – being the kiss-up he is – has already put the Smokey Saturdays album inside, meaning it is Lance's voice that immediately blasts from the speakers.

You don't even bother turning it down. If Bruce was telling the truth, then Smokey Saturdays won't even be out of their photoshoot for another twenty minutes, meaning you have a glorious amount of time to just lean back and enjoy the ambience of your new travel-buddy.

You lean your head back against the leather seat, listening to Lance's melodic voice. Even though he's the front-man, you can't help but zone in on the bass guitar in the background, Pidge and Keith working in perfect sync, as they always seem to do. Hunk's drums pull the whole thing together.

They're actually quite good.

It doesn't take long for you to find yourself nodding along to the beat, letting the album play on Shuffle so you can get a taste for each of their songs. Though they call themselves a rock group – and there's definitely a rock element to each song – there's a wide range of emotions that hit you all at once. There's sad songs, slow songs, fast paced songs, songs that sound more electric than anything else.

It's quite a journey.

The fifth song is playing when someone clears their throat beside you.

Your eyes snap open. Your body lurches, fingers immediately slamming into the radios OFF button.

You spin round, and are met by those weird violet eyes that every teenage girl across the UK seems to be obsessed with.

Keith Kogane can not look any less rock star right now.

He's stood in the door of the bus, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. His eyes are downcast, though he flicks them up every now and then before looking away when he so much as makes a second of eye contact with you. His ankles are crossed, his shoulder pressed into the door frame, and his mullet is real.

His. Mullet. Is. Real.

“Hi,” you say. Your voice sounds flat. Good. Make him think you don't give a fuck, even though he's just caught you jamming out to one of his songs.

He smiles awkwardly, without teeth. “Hi.”

“I didn't expect you to be here for another twenty minutes.”

“Yeah. The others are getting their make up off.”

“Oh right.”

Keith gestures vaguely to his face. “I – uh – just kept mine on. I need a nap.”

You nod. Are you supposed to say something to that? Does he perhaps want you to give him the Grand Tour of the tour bus?

You stand up and gesture vaguely. “Well, go crazy.”

Keith nods. You two seem to be doing a lot of nodding. It's the only way you can communicate without thinking you're somehow messing up.

He stares at you for a second longer before shrugging and heading towards the bunk beds. Over his shoulder is a single rucksack, and you have the sudden urge to ask him how he's going to survive for the next five months with nothing but a small rucksack worth of belongings.

Then you watch him shrug his leather jacket off and get into bed wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and you think that maybe the answer isn't as difficult as you might have originally thought.

You hollow out your cheeks once he's pulled the curtain over his bed and disappeared from view – great. Your first day on the job and already you've embarrassed yourself. In front of Keith Kogane, to make matters worse. The nations god damn sweetheart.

You slump back in the drivers seat and grumble under your breath. He didn't even seem that nice. He just looked weirded out. Maybe he was just tired.

Or maybe he's an asshole.

You really, really don't want to be dealing with an asshole for the next five months.

-----

Keith is running late.

Yet again.

He tries to keep his schedule clear and concise, but he has learned that is impossible when you live the life that he does; nothing ever goes to plan, and that's something he needed to learn sooner rather than later.

He'd woken up a few minutes late, but god, did Lance really have to start screaming in his ear because of a tiny bit of oversleeping? Now, Keith struggles to shrug his leather jacket on with one hand, the other busy running through his mullet in his attempts to flatten it down, because there's no way in hell he's going to get time for the bathroom this morning.

“We're already here!” Lance yells through the bus. “Y/N, location!”

Keith frowns. Y/N?

“Canduke Studios!” a voice yells back. A voice Keith vaguely recognises.

He straps his belt buckle into place, snatches his bass guitar up and darts to the front of the bus, where his band mates are already lined up waiting for him.

“Took you long enough,” says Lance. “We've got an interview today, then sound check, then the show and then the meet-and-greet at the end.”

Keith nods, too busy fiddling with the straps of his guitar case to really pay much attention to whatever shit Lance is spewing this time – he goes over the schedule before every single show, as if that schedule has a chance of ever staying the same. Something will show up and change it completely. Keith just knows it.

The four of them march out of the bus and are immediately met by the screams of fans who have no doubt been waiting outside the studio for days. Word was going round on Twitter a few nights prior, and there was no doubt in Keith's mind that the dedicated people currently calling his name have suffered through the bad London weather and camped out just for him.

He feels a little bit guilty, considering the only thing he can really do to thank them is put on a great show and wave as he walks past.

One of the girls makes a grab for his leather jacket. Keith smiles at her, even as fear bubbles in his veins. A security guard magically appears at the side of him and swats the girl away, and Keith is forced to listen as she wails his name.

“It's a bit hectic out here today, isn't it?” Hunk asks, leaning close. Hunk always gets a little panicked in public situations – Keith loops his arm through his friends and tugs him close.

“It's okay.”

“You sure?” Hunk glances over his shoulder. “They look dangerous. Those barriers don't look like they're gonna hold.”

Keith follows Hunk's gaze and immediately winces, because the bigger man is right. Behind him, the girls are knocking at the metal barriers, arguing with security and police alike, looking like they're really not going to take 'no' for an answer this time. One of the girls catches Keith and Hunk looking back at her and immediately throws herself into the outstretched arms of a police officer, screaming their names.

Keith tugs Hunk a little harder. “It'll be fine.”

They enter the studio and are led down the hall to the room in which they'll be doing the interview. The interviewer is a tall man called Donny who has a thick Yorkshire accent; Keith decides then and there that he won't be participating too much in this interview, considering he has to stop and ask Donny to repeat himself every two seconds; Lance is the best with accents, so he'll leave him to it.

Keith sits down, puts his bass guitar behind him and digs inside his pockets. Hunk, Pidge and Lance go off to get their make-up done, but Keith's make up takes about two minutes, so there's no rush. He can calm down, cool off from the hectic morning he's already been subject to. He hates being woken up by Lance's overreactions, but it seems to be a more and more common occurrence recently. Keith can hardly blame the guy, of course – Lance was the one who set this whole thing up in the first place. He just wants the band to get bigger, and he doesn't want Keith oversleeping getting in the way of that.

Nonetheless, it's a bit annoying.

Keith searches for his phone in the pockets of his leather jacket. He finds his keys, a packet of gum, a picture of his dad and his dog Kosmo. He even finds a piece of string he'd tied around Pidge's finger once to see how long it would take till the lack of blood flow made her finger numb.

But no phone.

He groans. “Hey, Pidge?”

“Hm?” she calls back, lips clamped shut as the make-up artist applies some black lipstick.

“Did you see me lift my phone off the charger this morning?”

“Mate, I didn't see anything this morning. You think you're the only one Lance harassed?”

Keith sighs and stands up – alright then. This is fine. Just because nothing has gone quite to plan this morning, does not mean the rest of his day is being set up for disaster. He just needs to keep a positive attitude and take it one step at a time.

The first step, however, is him retrieving his phone from the bus.

He doesn't even ask his manager if he can leave. He just walks back down the halls of the studio, ignoring the awestruck glances of the people working around him, and strolls right out the front doors.

Sometimes Keith forgets he's a worldwide known musician.

The fans immediately start screaming, startling him out of whatever daze his lack of sleep and lack of positivity had driven him into. He jumps, looks up just in time to see the police basically crumble to the ground as the fans dart towards Keith in a frenzy.

It's a fucking mob if Keith has ever seen one.

His first reaction is just instinct – he runs. He runs and he runs and he's dodging hands and trying to remain so, so polite but holy shit someone's just tried to grab his hair, and holy shit they're going to trample each other, and holy shit he was so stupid for thinking this was a good idea.

He didn't even think.

He heads directly towards the bus, ignoring the fans screams. He loves his fans – he really does – but he doesn't love crowds. He doesn't love frenzies. He doesn't love the risk of being crushed beneath a bunch of people who love him so much that they're willing to risk everything just to get close to him.

He stampedes up the steps of the bus, hits the OPEN button and throws himself inside.

“CLOSE THE FUCKING DOORS!” he wails.

Your head shoots up, but you listen nonetheless. Keith has to give you props on your quick reflexes.

The doors slam shut just seconds before the fans ram into the glass.

He pulls the privacy curtain over and falls to the floor, trying to catch his breath before he passes out.

“Alright then.” You slowly stand up. “Should I – like – call the police or something?”

Keith waves a dismissive hand. “They'll tire themselves out.”

“Right.”

He looks up from the ground, trying for a smile, but he's certain he just looks scared. Your eyebrows shoot up – that's enough confirmation for Keith. He sighs and slumps back against the wall, running his hands through his hair.

“Sorry,” he says, but he isn't sure why.

You nod. Keith remembers you did that a lot yesterday.

“Do you mind if I stay in here for a little while?”

You gesture towards the lounge. “Make yourself at home. Mi casa es tu casa.”

“Right. Uh. Gracias.” Keith pushes himself from the ground and flops onto a sofa instead. You continue staring at him, hovering awkwardly in the drivers bay. He kind of wants to ask you to mind your business, but then he remembers that you've just played a big part in the reason he isn't currently crushed beneath the weight of about fifty people, so he bites his tongue.

Instead, he says, “So you just stay in this bus all day and wait for us to finish?”

“Something like that,” you reply. “It's all good, though. I read a lot.”

“Oh.”

You clear your throat. “And I – uh – listen to the radio sometimes, too.”

Keith nods, picking at a loose thread on the pillow beside him. “Yeah, I heard that yesterday. You were listening to our second album.”

“Was I?”

“I think so.” He points at his head. “They get muddled up sometimes.”

“I'm sure that's a sign of dementia.”

Keith's lip twitches. “Fuck, I hope not.”

It goes silent. It's kind of awkward. Keith shifts on the sofa, bites his lower lip, looks at the floor because what else is someone supposed to do when they're stuck on a tour bus with an absolute stranger? What kind of things are you even meant to talk about in this situation?

You lean against the drivers bay and narrow your eyes. “Are you not gonna get in a shit ton of trouble if you don't get to your interview?”

Keith shrugs. “They'll put my safety first, I think.”

“You don't sound so sure.”

“No, no. Pidge and Hunk will definitely put my safety first – Lance might try and stab me when he gets back, but he'll come round eventually.” Keith pauses. “Hopefully.”

You slowly walk into the lounge. Keith stiffens on the sofa, suddenly afraid of you sitting beside him, but you instead take a seat across from him. He admires the way you so casually lounge against the cushions, propping your head on your hand, looking at him like he's a person and not just a rock star.

“How long is it gonna take for that crowd to clear out?”

Keith frowns. “It usually takes about. . . ten minutes, fifteen minutes. Depends how many police are on the scene.”

You glance over your shoulder. “Depends on how many police are left. I'm pretty sure poor Officer Baldy's broken his leg.”

Keith winces, and before he can think better of it, he leans over and yanks at your hand, tugging you away from the window. You slump back against the sofa, an amused grin now forming on your face.

Keith groans. “Don't do that.”

“I was just having a look. They don't care about me.”

“They'll get your picture, and then it's over for all of us.”

“Oh, yes. Scandalous. Who would have thought that Smokey Saturday's bus driver would be in the tour bus! I wonder what they've been doing this whole time!”

Keith gives you a blank look. “Ha.”

You grin. “So we're just gonna stay in here until the police come and get you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Awfully boring.”

“Better than getting trampled.”

You pause.

Keith raises a brow.

You roll your eyes. “Okay, I guess so.”

“You're not one of them teenagers who love the idea of death, are you?”

You guffaw, placing a clawed hand over your heart. “First of all, I'm an adult. Second, there's nothing wrong with being prepared for death. It's when you wish it upon yourself that it becomes an issue.”

“Was that meant to be philosophical?”

“I took psychology in university.”

Keith raises a brow. “And now you're a bus driver.”

You shrug. “Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

There's a little sad note to your voice when you say this, and Keith doesn't want to dwell on it, because he barely even knows who you are, but huh. It makes him feel something. He looks at you, and he genuinely thinks he kind of wants the best for you – just because you've shown him this ounce of normalcy for a few minutes.

He pulls his feet up onto the sofa, swinging one arm behind his head. “Did you want to do something with psychology, then?”

You start, clearly not expecting Keith to dwell further on the fun little fact you'd thrown into the conversation earlier. However, Keith feels like it would be a disservice to let this opportunity go to waste – the opportunity to get to know you a little better.

“I guess,” you reply. “I mean, I left university not even knowing what I wanted to do, so I don't really know. I think I just wanted to – like – survive.”

Keith nods. “A good goal to have.”

“I definitely didn't want to be a bus driver.”

He glances at you. “Do you not like your job?”

You shrug. “It's meh.”

Keith doesn't really understand that. His job isn't meh. He's never had a meh job before, because he's been blessed with the life he's always dreamed of. Nonetheless, he's seen people like you before, people who take what they can get. They settle for the bare minimum for the rest of their lives, not even taking into consideration that perhaps there's something better for them out there, something more.

Keith would have been one of those people if Lance hadn't dragged him into his makeshift band when he was only seventeen years old. Keith would have been rotting away in some rickety old house, just Kosmo there to keep him company.

But no. Keith is living his dreams, travelling the world, performing on stage every single night with three of his four best friends.

He smiles.

A pillow hits him in the face.

Keith yelps, throwing the pillow down to glare daggers in your direction.

You blink. “You were smiling at nothing.”

“Did you really have to do that?”

“I thought you were having a stroke, Keith.”

He narrows his eyes. “So you threw a pillow at me?”

You raise your hands in mock surrender. “I took psychology, not medicine.” There's a pause, and then, “When are you performing?”

“The show starts at eight,” Keith replies. He glances at the clock hung on the wall, immediately winces when he sees what time it is; the interview would have definitely started by now, meaning Lance is probably sitting there with that awkward, strained smile on his face, trying not to completely lose his head over the fact that Keith is nowhere to be seen.

Already Keith can picture the scolding he's going to get when his other band mates get back. There's going to be very little mercy shown tonight.

“You're doing it again.”

Keith's eyes snap up. “What?”

“That thing.” You gesture to Keith's face. “You're zoning out again.”

“Sorry.”

“It's not a bad thing. I just – you know. . . There's two of us in here. It would be nice if you could share your thoughts so I'm not left thinking you're going to kill me.”

Keith knows he should laugh – that was a joke. Definitely a joke, but Keith can't bring himself to feel anything other than pure disappointment. Disappointment towards himself, because he promised himself he would put his career first, and yet here he is, letting his fans down again.

He hates when his thoughts get like this. In the back of his mind, he knows he's not the one to blame. He can hardly help it if there's a dangerously large swarm of people outside the tour bus. He can hardly help the fact that he won't be able to move without the risk of getting trampled.

But still. He doesn't want to make the fans sad. He should be sat in that studio now, talking about his celebrity crushes and his plans for the next album – not sat here with a stranger.

You shift, and suddenly you're sat beside him. You keep your distance, though you lean forward in your attempts to catch his eye. Keith bites his lip and looks away; he doesn't know how good your analysis of other people is. He doesn't want to run the risk of you seeing his guilt.

“You feel guilty.”

Keith silently curses.

“Hey, that's not cool,” you continue, shifting a little bit closer to him. “None of this is your fault, dude.”

“I know that,” Keith grumbles, because lying is so much easier than sounding like a complete wimp.

And maybe its your psychology degree that makes you so good at picking up on deceit, but you don't let the subject drop as easily as Keith would like. “I'm not just saying that to – like – get in your pants or anything. I'm not like that.”

Keith's eyes widen. “I never said-”

“I mean, I know you're a big rock star and you have the nice hair, and you dress in all black, but I'm being serious when I say none of this is your fault. You can't help that them fans went batshit crazy.”

“Lance isn't gonna see it like that.”

“Lance can suck a dick.” Your eyes widen. Even Keith swings round, an amused grin bursting to the surface before he can even fully comprehend it.

You shake your head. “Please don't tell him or Bruce I said that.”

Keith snickers. “I won't.”

“You know what I'm trying to say though, right?”

Keith pauses. “You were trying to be comforting, weren't you?”

“I tried my very best.”

“Well, it worked.” Keith shrugs. “A little, I guess.”

You grin. “Good. Now, how about we play a game of Monopoly whilst we wait for the police to get their shit together?”

----

Keith is surprisingly good at Monopoly.

He's also surprisingly competitive.

He sits on the other side of the coffee table, legs folded beneath him, his head in his hands as he gazes out over the tiny plastic empire he's been building for the past ten minutes. His lower lip is raw from the abuse his teeth have given it. You're fairly certain you can see steam rising from the top of his head.

“I don't want to sell my property,” he mumbles.

“It's an important move to make.”

“I know. I know that. It's just . . . . god, that's 50k per turn that I'm losing. I don't know if I can afford that.”

You slap your hand against the table. “What the fuck do you mean? Your bank account is bloody thriving right now! You have six other properties!”

“But this is my best one!” Keith raises a hand. “You know what, you're just trying to distract me. Shut up and let me decide-”

“No. No, you're taking far too long, and it isn't fair. Give me the dice.”

Keith's eyes shoot up. He snatches the die from the middle of the table and presses it into his chest. “You're not allowed your go until I've made up my mind.”

“Then make up your mind!”

“Don't fucking rush me!”

“Keith Kogane, I swear to god, I have properties to look after as well, and I'm three steps away from Go, so if you-”

“Do you think real estate is a joke?”

You flip the Monopoly board.

Keith cries out as the pieces slap him in the face and crumble in his lap. Paper money litters the tour bus floor. The Chest cards disappear beneath the nailed down sofas.

You stand up, trailing your hands through your hair. “I had to. I had to. You gave me no choice.”

Keith raises his hands above his head, his jaw open. He can't break his eyes away from the wreckage of his plastic village. “Y/N...”

“You gave me no choice!” you exclaim, desperate to defend yourself. “I had properties to care for as well, Keith, and you were fully prepared to sit there and make me watch them crash and burn!”

Keith stood up. “You're a murderer. An actual murderer.”

You scoff, folding your arms over your chest. “Give me a break.”

“Another round,” he demands. “I want another round right now. I want my houses back.”

“You're not getting your houses back. I'm not playing another round with you.”

“Why? Scared I'm gonna take the lead again?”

“No! I'm not scared of anything.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Then you'll play another round.”

“No. Neither of you are gonna be playing another round.”

And suddenly, you can hear a pin drop.

You know who it is before you've even turned around. You continue to stare at Keith, but his eyes have long since flicked away from you, darting over to the now open door of the bus where Lance and no doubt everyone else stands waiting for you to notice them.

You slowly turn around, flashing Lance a smile that he does not return. Behind him, Hunk and Pidge are awkwardly scratching the back of their necks. You're fairly certain they're trying to blend in with the walls or something, as they are making it exceptionally clear they do not want to be here whilst Lance scolds Keith.

Because he is definitely going to scold Keith, if his face is anything to go by. Furrowed brows, flared nostrils, tanned arms folded over his chest.

“This is what you were doing whilst we were in that studio trying to come up with an excuse as to why you weren't with us?” Lance says. He's keeping his voice quiet, but you can hear the waver in his tone, the way he's trying to keep himself as calm as possible.

“There was a mob,” replies Keith. “Y/N and I thought we might as well play a bit of Monopoly while we wait for the police to sort it out.”

“The police sorted it out fifteen minutes ago, Keith,” Pidge mumbles.

Keith pauses. “What?”

“The mob was controlled fifteen minutes ago,” Lance confirms. “We were waiting for you to come out of the bus and join us, but it looks like you had more important things on your mind.” Lance raises a brow, points between you and Keith. “So how long has this been going on?”

You splutter. “What?”

Keith waves his hand in the air, stepping forward. He pushes Lance back a little bit, and you can just barely make out the amused grin forming on Lance's face at the sight of Keith's suddenly flustered state. “No. No, don't even start. You've got this twisted.”

“Wait.” Lance pops his head around Keith's shoulder. “You two aren't together?”

Hunk snickers. “You seem awfully close.”

“You're acting like a bunch of ten year olds,” Keith growls. “Look, I'm sorry I missed the interview – it was a one-time thing. I swear. But the only thing we can do now is move on, get to sound check and put on the best damn show to kick off the tour. Right?”

“You know I have the bunk above yours, right?” says Lance. “If you two want to get it on, I expect you to go into the hotel to do it.”

Your stomach curls. Quickly, you slip past Keith and his band mates and make your way back to the drivers bay, no longer wanting to be part of this conversation; had the crowd really been controlled fifteen minutes ago? How had neither you nor Keith noticed that?

You slump down in the drivers seat and turn the radio on. The band will be ready to move in a few minutes, so at least you'll have something to keep your mind occupied whilst they're out there teasing Keith over something that honestly isn't worth teasing him about; you two are just friends.

In fact, even the word friends seems like a bit of a stretch. He's a rock star, and you're a bus driver – you are on two separate planets.

You just happened to play a game of Monopoly together to pass the time. Where's the harm in that?

---

“You told me you didn't plan on getting into a relationship.”

“Shut up, Pidge. It's been two weeks.”

“Yeah, two weeks where you and Y/N have barely stopped talking. I've never seen you this chatty with anyone.”

Keith rolls his eyes; his band mates are so immature sometimes. Yes, he loves each of them more than words will ever be able to explain, but there continuous insistence over Keith's love life is starting to get under his skin.

He made a promise, both to himself and to his fans, that he would not be in a relationship any time soon. He doesn't have time for a relationship. He isn't really in the correct mindset for a relationship right now. And yes, he can't deny that you're nice, and your personality clicks with his almost perfectly, and you make him laugh more than anybody has ever done before-

But that's not enough. That doesn't change the fact he's currently on tour. That doesn't change the fact he barely has time for himself, let alone another person.

He plucks at the string of his bass. “You're all a bunch of nosy bastards.”

Pidge pushes herself up onto her knees. She's sat on the sofa across from Keith, the two of them being the only ones currently occupying the hotel room. Hunk and Lance decided to stay on the bus; the longer Keith is stuck in this room with Pidge, the more he's starting to see the sense in their decision.

“Tell me this,” she says.

“No.”

“Do you like this person?”

Keith pauses.

Pidge leans forward. “Well?”

“We get along,” Keith admits. He's treading on thin ice here. He doesn't want these rumours to continue. “We have. . . good conversations.”

“Mm.” Pidge slowly leans back, keeping her eyes firm on Keith. It makes him uncomfortable. “I hope you know you're blushing.”

Keith looks away. “It's hot in here.”

“It really isn't.”

“Can you just drop it?” Keith snaps. “I swear to god if things get awkward between me and Y/N because you lot can't mind your own business-”

“You just cherish their friendship so much-”

“Yes!” The word bursts from him before he can stop it, and he knows exactly what it sounds like, and there's really no coming back from it, but he means it. He really does mean it. It's been two weeks since you and Keith started talking, two weeks of tour, two weeks of him sitting up the front of the bus with you, eating Strawberry Laces straight out of the bag as you and him share stories of times neither of you will ever be able to relate to. He cherishes those moments, after shows when you meet him at the doors of the bus and ask him how it all went, and he wishes wishes wishes he could just ask you to go to the next show so you can see for yourself, but he never invites you because what if it sounds like he's asking you out?

Pidge goes silent. So does Keith, unwilling to take the confession back but even more unwilling to dwell on it.

Pidge clears her throat. “Oh. Right then. Sorry. I didn't mean. . . . You know I love you, right? You're like my brother.”

Keith mutters something under his breath.

“I just want you to be happy, that's all. I get worried when you. . . when you get that attitude, you know? The fuck the world attitude you seem to favour nowadays. You may think it's cool, but it's just worrying sometimes.”

Keith shrugs, slumping further down in his seat. He plucks another low string on his bass guitar, cringes at how out of tune it is.

“But Y/N looks like they make you happy,” she continues. “And I promise, none of us are going to get in the way of that. At least, not on purpose.” She smiles sheepishly. “Who knows? Maybe they like you back.”

Keith groans. “I don't-”

Pidge raises a hand, silencing him. “I wasn't trying to start anything. I'm just saying.”

Keith lets the subject drop after that. He stays curled up on the love seat whilst Pidge crawls into her bed and goes to sleep – she's always been good at falling asleep fast. Though she has a habit of pulling all-nighters, she's definitely not an insomniac.

Keith isn't an insomniac, either. He's just an over-thinker, and that's the only thing that keeps him awake. He lowers the amplifier to it's lowest volume and sits up for another few hours, gazing out the windows because he refuses to close the curtains just yet – he can see the bus parked outside, you no doubt sleeping in one of the bunk beds at the back. Keith hates the fact that's where his mind goes, but he doesn't try fighting it off – it's too late for that. His brain can't handle that kind of denial at this time of night.

So, he lets himself think, and think, and think, until the sun is peeking up over the horizon and suddenly his eight hours of potential sleep has dwindled to three hours, and then two. He finally falls asleep, knowing he's meant to wake up in an hour and a half, but not really minding, because at least he'll get to see you when he finally rises.

-----

“'Keith Kogane talks about staying single in latest interview with Rolling Stones!'” you announce as soon as Keith steps foot into the drivers bay. You've been waiting on him for the past hour and a half, flicking idly through one of the magazines Bruce provided for you in his last care package. Of course, the majority of it includes Smokey Saturday merch and magazines – you once would have complained, but this particular issue of Rolling Stones is one you're quite interested in.

Keith freezes in the door. He's sweating, a fluffy towel draped over his shoulders. He narrows his eyes when he sees you, to which you simply raise a brow and wave a hand, urging him to explain.

He shrugs. “I want to stay single. Where did you get that?” He snatches a Strawberry Lace out of the packet you have opened on the dashboard.

“Bruce sent it to me,” you reply. “That's a bit of a sad headline, isn't it?” You cup your ear. “If you listen closely, you can make out the sound of millions of hearts shattering-”

Keith snatches the magazine out of your hand and slumps down on the seat next to you. “Gimme that.”

“Have you not seen it yet?”

“I don't really make it a priority to read these things any more. They just put me in a bad mood.” He shows you the picture they used for the article; it's Keith leaning against his amplifier, his head down in his usual, mysterious fashion, hair in his face. If you didn't know of him, you wouldn't even know it was Keith in the picture, considering they hardly ever show anything more than his famous black locks draped over his forehead. “Do you see that picture? That was my least favourite picture we took, and they chose it to be the one everyone sees when they open the article.”

“Hunk said he was holding back a sneeze in the picture they used for him.”

Keith scoffs. “Hunk always looks like that. I, on the other hand, have the potential to look good.”

“Well....”

Keith shoots you a glare. You raise your hands in mock surrender.

“Yes, you're right. Fabulous. You look fabulous.” Keith grunts and looks back down at the magazine. Slowly, you lean in. “Is there a particular reason you want to stay single?”

The question is a risky one. Your feelings for Keith have undeniably grown these past few weeks, but you've successfully managed to squash them down into nothing. However, reading that article left you no other choice but to just ask – just ask. Just get the answer from him, and if he says it's true, and he gives you a valid reason for his feelings, then you'll back away. You'll be able to tell yourself there's absolutely no hope and move on before things get even deeper.

Keith chews his tongue. He looks like he's thinking, eyes never leaving the glossy paper. His jaw ticks.

“Has anyone ever used you for your money?”

You flinch back. That certainly wasn't the response you'd been expecting. “Uh....”

“Not even just your money,” he hastens to add. “You're gorgeous. Has anyone used you for your looks? Or maybe they've seen something you have that they don't, and they use you to get to it?”

“Uh....”

“It's not a good feeling.” He closes the magazine and sets it on the dashboard, his boots following suit. Usually you'd scold him from putting his feet up like that, but you're at a loss for words at the moment. “It really puts a damper on the whole experience of falling in love. I don't even wanna risk it any more.”

You pause. “Someone used you for money?”

“Multiple people have used me for money,” he confirms. “Money, fame, to get one of the others. It's just. . . happened too many times. I'm not really keen on risking it again.”

“How is that a good way to live life?” you ask before you can think better of it.

You know it's none of your business. Keith doesn't have to explain himself to you, and you certainly have no right thinking you have a say in whatever plans Keith has for his future.

Keith looks at you, raising a brow. “It's the safe way of living life.”

“Are you not lonely?”

“No. I have my band mates. I have my fans.”

“Yeah. Okay.” You nod. You understand that – not everyone needs a romantic partner to feel accompanied in life, but there's a difference between comfortably going through life without an interest in love, and avoiding it because of a bad experience.

“I don't know why you're chastising me,” he says suddenly. “I never see you with anybody. You just sit in this bus all day and melt.”

You should probably be offended.

“I'll have you know, I don't actually have a partner at the minute, but it's not because I've got trust issues.”

“I haven't got trust issues.”

“So what would you call it?”

“Self care.”

“You're scared of getting hurt. You think every person you meet is out to get you.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Your psychology major is showing again.”

“I'm serious!”

“So am I!”

“I think you'd make a great boyfriend.”

You wince. Okay. Shit. You didn't think that one through at all.

Keith's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before you're standing up and stretching. Your arms very nearly hit off the overhead light, and your lower back cracks painfully with how quickly you twist. “Okay! I actually have some errands to do right now, so if you don't mind, I've had enough of your company for one day.”

Keith doesn't respond, simply shifts his legs so you can squeeze past him. You give him one final smile – anything to play off whatever mess you've just made – before stumbling down the steps of the bus and marching across the road, fanning yourself the entire way to the corner shop.

No. That did not just happen. You did not just say those words to Keith fucking Kogane.

Things like that only ever happen in movies, right? People don't actually blurt out cringy confessions like that, because most people in real life have a thing called common sense. Most people in real life have a thing called self awareness. Most people in real life have this thing where they can tell when someone likes them back, and Keith certainly wasn't giving off those vibes.

So why did you feel the need to say something so stupid?

You bump your head against the shelf of ramen noodles. How are you ever meant to go back to that bus and face him now? How are you ever meant to cover this up and make it seem like an innocent slip of the tongue?

It seems impossible. You've bloody doomed yourself.

----

Keith stares into space.

Fuck.

So this is it then. This is what it feels like when someone's plans get thrown out the window because of a single mishap. This is what happens when every single promise you make to yourself is suddenly broken, because you've just realised that those feelings you've been hiding away can no longer be ignored.

Keith actually has to deal with his emotions.

That's not something he's particularly good at.

Your words echo in his ears. You'd make a great boyfriend.

The thing is, Keith hears that almost every day, or at least a variety of that sentence. He reads it on Twitter, on his Instagram – hell, even people in real life will often come up to him and confess that they believe he would indeed be the perfect candidate for them, that their personalities match so well according to the Buzzfeed quiz they took the night before.

Keith is usually so quick to ignore those kinds of confessions, but hearing it from you. . . It feels real, somehow, more than an in-the-moment fan confession that usually just leaves him feeling uncomfortable and uncertain how to respond.

He actually feels as if he could respond.

He closes his eyes, digging the balls of his palms into the sockets as if that alone could help dispel the feelings bubbling to the surface. They were previously hidden behind some kind of trap door, but your confession opened the latch. Your confession is the reason he's feeling anything at all. You're the reason he isn't able to hold back any longer.

A knock sounds on the drivers bay. Keith doesn't look up.

“Where did Y/N go?” Lance asks. “And what's up with you?”

Keith spins round and stands up, already grabbing his leather jacket. “Did you see where they went?”

Lance presses his hands into Keith's shoulders. “Woah, dude. What's going on? Is everything okay?”

“Everything's fine. I just need to know where Y/N went.”

“I don't know,” says Lance, before raising a brow. “But we have an interview in ten minutes. You didn't forget again, did you?”

Keith falters. Fuck. Now is really not the time to fill his schedule with pointless interviews.

He bites his lower lip and glares down at the floor. Lance chuckles.

“Y/N got you a little distracted?”

“Do I have to do this interview? Will it really be that bad if I just don't show up to this one?”

Lance frowns. “You didn't show up to the one in Canduke Studios. People are gonna start getting suspicious.”

Lance is right, of course, and Keith knows this. Nonetheless, he looks out the window towards the road in which you'd just run through, away from Keith and his silence, away from Keith and the confession that is teetering on the edge of his tongue.

But Keith has other priorities. He has a job. He has duties that he can't just abandon because he's had an epiphany that maybe – just maybe – feeling things for other people isn't such a bad thing.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods. Lance grins, swinging his arms round Keith's shoulders before leading him down the steps of the bus towards the studios.

---

Do the lights really have to be that bright?

Does there really have to be twenty people staring at him right now?

Does he really need this much make up on his face?

Keith dabs his forehead with a tissue and scowls when his foundation comes off with it. Now he's going to look like an absolute idiot when the camera turns to him.

It's been rolling for a number of minutes now, but Keith has done what Keith does best and hidden himself in the background. Hunk and Lance are sat in front of him; Pidge had thankfully taken the seat behind Lance, meaning Keith could easily hide his form behind Hunk's build. If he's lucky, you won't even be able to properly see him.

That is, until he gets addressed, which really doesn't take long. News of the mob from a few weeks ago still has not died down, and Keith is growing tired of the questions asking him if he's okay, if he's recovered from such a scarring event. The amount of times Keith has laughed it all and said it was no big deal is uncountable at this point.

“So, Keith,” the interviewer says. He's an elderly man, grey haired with circular glasses. He doesn't know the first thing about Smokey Saturdays, and perhaps that is why not a single question about their music has been asked. “You were recently part of the Rolling Stones interview we were talking about with Lance; your article caught the eye of quite a few people.” He waits. Keith pauses; is he meant to fill in the gap here?

“I saw that.”

The interviewer nods. “Tell me how you manage that. You know, the whole wanting to stay single thing. It must be pretty difficult when you have thousands of people throwing themselves at you every single day. Do you never look in the crowd and think you know what, I like the look of that one?”

Pidge snickers. Lance and Hunk are biting their lower lips to keep their own laughter at bay.

Keith kicks the bottom of Hunk's seat as subtly as he can before replying. “Nah, that's not really my thing.”

“No? So you were serious when you said you don't want a relationship?”

Keith opens his mouth to say yes, that's exactly what he meant, but his words falter. He remembers you, and suddenly he doesn't really know how to respond, which is weird because he's been trained for this. He spent weeks with his publicist, trying to perfect his responses to questions like this, going through media training that left his mind numb and his entire life feeling like a lie.

How could you just come around and undo all of that?

Keith doesn't know, but he doesn't have time to dwell on the specifics. The interviewer is expecting an answer. Keith can't just stare into space, he can't just stay silent, he can't just-

“I mean, I wouldn't mind a relationship. Like, I'm not against the idea.”

Pidge nearly falls from her seat.

Keith barrels on, gripping his arm rests so tight he's certain he's got no nails left. “When I did that interview, I was in a place where relationships just weren't the top of my priority list – and they still aren't. But I was a little bit angry at the fact I couldn't find the time to dedicate to someone else. I was a little angry at the fact I couldn't live a proper, adult life that includes things like falling in love, and one-night-stands and all that bullshit.” Keith shrugs. “But I think I realise now that you shouldn't make decisions like that on a whim. All it takes is finding the right person to change your mind.”

The interviewer blinks. The whole room goes quiet. Pidge is breathing so heavily that Keith genuinely contemplates sprinting back to the bus to retrieve her inhaler.

You might not even be watching the interview, which is the funny thing. Keith has just poured his heart and soul out – as best as Keith Kogane really can – and the only people who will hear it is the entire world, but not the person he wants.

He bites his lips and slumps back in the uncomfortable directors chair. “So yeah.”

“Wow,” the interviewer says. “It sounds like you've found someone special, Keith. Are we correct in assuming you've fallen in love?”

“No.”

The interviewer frowns. “So that all just. . . . came from the heart?”

Keith nods. It's the best he can do. He thinks he's going to throw up.

Lance sits up. “Okay, anyway! Did you know, Larry, that we actually have a brand new EP coming out at the end of the year...”

---

You stare at the TV.

You're crying.

It's so stupid. This whole thing is so god damn stupid. Why are you being so emotional? What right did you have to sit here and cry over something as stupid as heartbreak?

You push a pillow against your face, letting the tears sink into the fabric. Maybe you're just being overly emotional because of earlier on – you'd already eaten two cups of ramen to try and soothe your anxiety and regret, but it clearly wasn't enough. You'd then decided to just say fuck it – this was basically your bus. You can sit in the lounge if you want to. You can put your feet up on the coffee table if you want to and nobody is allowed to tell you otherwise.

So that's how you've ended up in tears, watching Smokey Saturdays live on the Larry Newman show.

And it really is live. Keith really said all of that on live television.

You turn it off once Lance starts going on about the new EP; you've heard it all before, considering it's all he talks about. Plus, after hearing Keith talk like that, you're a little bit jarred to say the very least.

You finish up your third cup of ramen and place the empty cup on the sideboard, ready to be taken to the bin when you next pass one. You pace the bus for a little while, because that's all you can think to do – there really is nothing else. Keith said it before – you just sit on this bus and melt, wait until they're finished living their lives so you can get on with your own. Apparently, all your life currently consists of is driving a world famous band around.

And the thing is, you don't even mind.

That's the crazy part. Once upon a time, you would have felt complete shame and embarrassment when you had to tell people this was your job, but now it's just. . . . a thing. You enjoy it. You can sit up front, listen to music, eat Strawberry Laces.

You can talk to Keith.

You close your eyes. You don't want to admit that that's a bonus, because it just sounds so sad. Your life has never been perfect, and you're still wasting your degree, and your parents would be shaking their head at you right now, but you're happy. You're genuinely, utterly happy.

Despite what the tears pouring from your eyes may suggest.

You hear the band making their way to the bus shortly after seven pm. It's dark now. The street lights are on, and when you look out the window, you nearly choke on your own tongue because Keith looks so good, even though his head is down and he's walking with a determined march in his step that you're not stupid enough to be oblivious to – you know exactly why he's walking like that. You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the night.

You tuck yourself into the drivers bay, hoping and praying he'll just walk past.

The doors of the bus open and the band walks in. Lance, Hunk and Pidge all yell a little “Hello Y/N!” over their shoulders before marching off to their designated bunks. Keith, on the other hand, pulls open your privacy curtain and says, “Can we talk?”

“Do we have to?”

“Can we go outside? Do you need my coat?”

“Is it cold?”

“A little bit.”

You snatch his leather jacket out of his hands and follow him down the steps of the bus. You might as well get this over with. The sooner, the better.

You shrug his jacket over your shoulders. The two of you stand on the pavement, the glow of the street lights illuminating his pale skin and his black hair, those violet eyes burning into the crown of your head as you make it a priority to keep your own eyes on the floor.

He sighs. “Did you watch the interview?”

“A bit of it.”

“Did you see the important part?”

“Yeah. Hunk balancing that tooth pick on his eyelash-”

“You know what I mean.” Keith pauses. “You saw it, right?”

You bite your bottom lip. That's really the only confirmation Keith needs.

He inhales shakily, scrubbing a hand against the back of his neck as if he's nervous. Him! As if he has anything to be nervous about.

“Sooo...,” he drawls. “I – uh – just want you to know that I changed my mind.”

“I gathered that.”

“And the only reason I changed my mind was because I met you and realised that missing out on this chance really isn't something I like the idea of.”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out once his words settle.

Your eyes snap up, jaw opening and closing, words on the brink of your tongue but not quite making it that far. Keith grins down at you, a smile you've never seen on his face before – he almost looks excited. Perhaps if you pay extra close attention, you'll be able to see him jumping up and down on the balls of his feet.

You take a single step back. “Wait, what?”

“I like you. A lot. More than – More than I think I have a right to, considering I've been going on for months about how I don't want a relationship.” He hollows out his cheeks. “I'm so sorry you had to put up with that.”

“Keith-”

“And I get it if you don't like me back. I'm not – I'm not one of those celebrities who thinks everyone should be honoured to be liked by me, because that's such a – a douche thing to do, but I just can't sit in that bus with you and pretend you're not the only person in my life right now outside of the band who makes me feel completely normal.”

This is happening so fast. He's talking so fast. Your heart is beating so fast.

“So – uh – yeah. Yeah.” He waves a hand as if to say Now that that's over. “Basically, the interview explained it all. I was a bit vague, but it was all about you, really. Yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Anyway, it really is cold out here. We should probably get back-”

“You like me back?”

Keith blinks. “Yah.”

“Keith. I don't even . . . . You said all that about me?” It shouldn't be such a surprise; at the end of the day, you and Keith are trapped in a bus together for a good portion of the day. You two get along like best friends. He brightens your day, so why is it so hard to believe that you brighten his?

Nonetheless, your heart is beating at a million miles per hour and your smile is forming so fast you can't even think of stopping it. Keith looks at you, eyes tracing every inch of your face before his own smile appears, slightly lop sided and forever cheeky, but so, so perfect.

He cups your face. “You're smiling. That's a good thing, right?” He tilts your head side to side, pokes at the corner of your lip. “Right?”

“Right.” And then you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him into you. The kiss is a little bit unpractised, and Keith stumbles a little bit, but then your back is pressed against a lamp post and his hand is on your waist, and your hand is trailing through his hair, and for once, nothing really seems out of place, even though everything is out of place and this is the most bizarre thing you've ever done in your life.

Keith laughs against your mouth. It's such an uncharacteristic thing for him to do that you're nearly convinced to pull away, but he presses his fingers deeper into the flesh of your waist and that idea quickly slips from your mind.

He pulls away first, only when he needs air. You could have gone for another minute, at least, but you'll tell him that another time.

He groans, bumping his forehead against yours. “Holy shit.”

“Romantic.”

“I'm sorry for being such a depressing bitch a few days ago.” His voice has dropped to a mumble. “I was just. . . so scared of getting hurt again.”

You stroke your thumb along his jaw line. He closes his eyes, nuzzles into your touch. “You don't need to apologise for that, Keith. But – like – just so you know, I don't want you for your money. I actually think you're quite a decent bloke.” You twirl your finger in his mullet. “And you've got a nice bit of hair, too.”

Keith pinches your waist. “I actually think you have a really nice bus, and you listen to our music.”

“Not all the time!”

“Every time you turn on that radio, there's a Smokey Saturdays album playing.”

“Bruce put that there.”

Keith pulls away and laces his fingers with yours. “Right. That's the excuse you're using now?”

“I actually hate your music.”

Keith drags you towards the bus. You stumble after him. “Mhm.”

“I'm serious.”

“Okay.”

“Keith, I swear to-”

210 notes · View notes

pengiesama · 5 years

Text

Celestial Confluence/Cultivation Cross (Fic, TGCF, HC/XL)

Title: Celestial Confluence/Cultivation Cross Series: Heavenly Official’s Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Pairing: Hua Cheng/Xie Lian

Summary:

All of Heaven has been brought to its knees by the hot new gatcha game, Celestial Confluence/Cultivation Cross. The gods are at each other's throats, and are at the brink of civil war, in pursuit of the rarest of .pngs.

Chaos reigns. And it is most emphatically Hua Cheng's fault.

Link: AO3

Check out my commission info here.

Read on Tumblr!

“...so you see, profits are up from last quarter, and attendance at the gambling halls is at an all-time high,” said the bird demon at the front of the conference room. “Our Lord’s bold strategic moves in this fiscal year have broken previous records into such dust.”

“Master’s business acumen is unmatched,” stated the hog demon to the horned woman seated next to him at the polished wood table. The horned woman nodded at this sage assessment, and the rest of the room murmured in agreement.

“Unmatched.”

“Unparalleled.”

“Who other than a Supreme could wield such horrible power?”

Suddenly, the demon business consultants found their voices silenced. They could not utter a peep -- it was as though an invisible hand had reached down their gullets to pluck out their tongues. But there was little mystery to who had performed such a feat. A perceptible dark aura had descended upon the room, and at the center of it all was the object of their praise and adulation: their Lord himself, Hua Cheng. Despite their acclaim, despite the numbers from last quarter’s gross profits displayed prominently on the overhead projector in a neat, color-coordinated bar graph, Hua Cheng’s expression was grave. He swirled red wine in a goblet of fine, translucently white porcelain.

After a long and deliberate silence to build up an appropriate sense of dread, Hua Cheng spoke.

“Not good enough.”

He hurled the porcelain goblet against the wall, splattering its contents -- looking to all the world as red blood and white bone, a scene of spectacular violence. Hua Cheng snapped his fingers and a nearby handmaiden handed him an identical goblet. Hua Cheng swirled it again, once, twice, before he spoke once more.

“Profits are up,” Hua Cheng repeated, mockingly. “An all-time high. Meaningless. I need more than that.”

His consultants said nothing, out of terror. And also out of still not being able to speak because Hua Cheng stole their voices. Hua Cheng seemed to remember this part only belatedly, as he waited a little bit too long for a response. He rolled his good eye, sighed in frustration, and gave the bird consultant his voice back.

The bird consultant knew he had a role to play in this scene, and wasted no time embracing it. “M-my lord!” he coughed, trying to get his tongue back in the right place in his throat. “Whatever do you mean?”

Hua Cheng threw another goblet against the wall, and accepted its replacement in his waiting hand.

“I have built an empire on cards and dice. However, there remains the need to attract more clientele. New clientele. Clientele that think themselves too good, too noble to enter my gambling halls. Tempt them, ensnare them, enslave them -- only then will I approach the profits needed for my ultimate goal.”

Their Lord’s riches were unparalleled -- truly, the stuff of legends. Mountains of gold, oceans of jewels. Jurisdiction over the nether realm, command over an army of souls and a bottomless abyss of power. Wealth that even the richest of kingdoms could only ever dream of. To lust for more and more was the nature of demons, to be certain. But their Lord’s aspirations seemed to be approaching the limits of reality itself.

“Such devious and lofty ambition is surely within my lord’s reach,” said the bird consultant, with utter sincerity -- for it was a simple truth that everything was within reach for their lord, the king of the ghosts, the lord of the demons, the terror of the heavens. “But does my lord already have something specific in mind?”

Hua Cheng was idly throwing goblet after goblet at the wall, clearly bored of the meeting. “I do. I don’t care about your input, and I don’t know why I pay you or why I have these meetings. You’re all dismissed. Bye.”

The demon consultants found their tongues forcibly returned to their mouths, and they quietly filed out of the room, trying to reattach them properly. It was no use, and was entirely unwise, to inquire any further into their lord’s plans.

After all, surely, they would find out soon enough.

Xie Lian was used to being out of the loop on the latest trends in Heaven. It didn’t really bother him -- he was just too old to keep up with this gossip or that fashion trend or that new joke, especially when it was sure to be old hat in a week or less. What’s more, it was always so awkward trying to fit in. He distinctly remembered the pain on Shi Qing Xuan’s face as he tried to explain to Xie Lian why that picture of a frog puppet on fire was relevant to the current conversation in the heavenly array. Xie Lian still didn’t understand. Why would someone want to set a puppet on fire? It seemed like a perfectly good puppet. He probably could have put on a street performance with it.

“It’s just like -- an expression! It’s you! You’re all excited and on fire and you’re the frog puppet!” Shi Qing Xuan explained, in increasingly desperate tones.

“I’m not a frog puppet,” Xie Lian said. “And I don’t want to be on fire. It hurts, trust me.”

Shi Qing Xuan lowered his head to the table and buried himself under his voluminous silken sleeves. “You are the least cash money person I have ever met.”

“Sorry,” Xie Lian said. “I am the trash god, you know.”

In any case, Xie Lian’s willful ignorance of popular trends allowed him to live a peaceful -- if uncool -- life. But as he was soon to discover, one cannot escape from the cold, clammy grasp of popular culture entirely.

Xie Lian didn’t remember why he’d needed to visit Heaven, that day. Perhaps he’d needed to get some holy water from the celestial stream, perhaps he’d needed to gather herbs to make medicine, perhaps he was just feeling masochistic and wanted to go to a place where everyone deliberately ignored him. Whatever the reason, it was as though he had stepped into the realm of the damned.

Gods stumbled down the streets, mumbling to themselves as they tapped away at glowing screens that floated in the palms of their hands. Cries of joy and cries of despair echoed from the palaces and alleyways. All around him, Xie Lian saw faces twisted by anguish, by ecstasy, by madness -- still more with eyes that were utterly dead to the world. Xie Lian almost thought that he had made a wrong turn, and had landed in the entertainment district of the Ghost City by mistake. But no. This was Heaven, but somehow, it had become overrun with the unmistakable aura of hell.

Surely no one would have blamed Xie Lian if he had simply turned around and left. But alas, he never did know how to leave well enough alone. Xie Lian hastened to the Windmaster’s mansion, hoping against hope that Shi Qing Xuan was still in possession of his full faculties...or as full faculties as could be expected from such a devoted follower of hot trends. It took a few knocks, but eventually, Shi Qing Xuan answered the door. Xie Lian was disheartened to see that he (well, currently she, for the present moment) had that same glowing screen in the palm of her perfectly manicured hand; however, Shi Qing Xuan’s expression was still bright and cheery, her eyes still clear. With any luck, she still had enough strength of will left to answer questions.

“Just in time!” Shi Qing Xuan said cheerily, dragging Xie Lian in by his wrist. “I’m about to stream my next few dozen ten-rolls. You can be my guest commentator! Ming-Xiong and I have a channel, you know, and we can always use guest commentators, because Ming-Xiong doesn’t really talk, he just eats into his microphone even though we’re not a mukbang stream except when it’s Thursday and we’re a mukbang stream. We have a podcast, too, did you know that?”

“No,” Xie Lian said. “I didn’t.”

“Well, if you stick around, you can be a guest on that too!” Shi Qing Xuan said cheerfully. “Come come, sit here so the cameras can see you.”

Xie Lian settled down awkwardly, watching as Shi Qing Xuan attached her glowing screen to a strange setup. Ming Yi didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence at all, and continued to engage in the activity that he had been partaking in since they entered the room, which was slurping noodles extremely loudly into a microphone. A large screen displayed on one of the walls, showing the camera footage of the three of them in the room, and showing a scrolling feed of the conversation taking place in the heavenly array -- as well as a running tally of the merits that were being tossed their way. Xie Lian was extremely puzzled as to what they were doing that merited...merits. Every time Ming Yi made an especially loud slurp or finished another bowl of noodles, a new wave of donations pinged onto the screen. Pictures of that frog puppet kept popping up in the chat, in new and strange situations.

Frog puppets. Noodles. Podcasts. Heaven transforming into hell. And Xie Lian could do nothing but watch.

“Hey everyone! We’ve got a special guest today; he’ll be chatting with us while I whale for my new outfit card in Celestial Confluence/Cultivation Cross!”

“You’re doing what to a whale?” Xie Lian asked, regretting the question when it wasn’t even fully out of his mouth.

Shi Qing Xuan laughed uproariously, then stopped, seeming to realize from previous experience that Xie Lian wasn’t joking. However, instead of having a swooning fit over Xie Lian’s uncoolness as she usually did, she seemed to have the scent of something interesting. She scooted in close, closer, closer. Xie Lian fought the urge to bolt.

“Xie Lian. Your highness. Lemme ask you this. Do you know what Celestial Confluence/Cultivation Cross is?”

“Absolutely not,” Xie Lian said.

“He doesn’t know!” Shi Qing Xuan crowed with glee, clapping her hands in delight. “He doesn’t know at all! Your highness, it’s only the most popular game in the Heavens right now. Or like, ever. You seriously haven’t heard of it?”

“Not at all,” Xie Lian said. He looked around for anything that resembled a game board. “It’s a game? Where are the game pieces?”

Shi Qing Xuan gestured with a flourish to the screen display, her sleeves fluttering like leaves in the wind with the motion. “You’re looking right at them, your highness.”

On the screen, there was...a series of pictures of Shi Qing Xuan, in a dizzying variety of different outfits. Shi Qing Xuan pointed to each one, proudly.

“This is me in my travelling robes, and this is me when I’m feeling a little sassy and want to go out incognito dressed as a simple but also beautiful mortal cultivator, and this is me except I’m a schoolgirl, and oh, there’s me when I’m a schoolboy too, and this is me on a day out at the beach in a cute polka-dot bikini and couture sunglasses and kicky little high heels, and this is me as a Santa Claus -- watch out or else you’ll be on my naughty list, Ming-Xiong!”

Ming Yi had nothing to say to that except another loud slurp. Another torrent of merits pinged on the screen.

“And this is me as a sexy cat burglar, and this is me as a famous idol singer, and this is me as a dazzling bride, and this is me as a star athlete, if you’ll notice the diamond-studded booty shorts, and this is me as a pastry chef, and--”

“Windmaster,” Xie Lian interrupted, seeing that Shi Qing Xuan was not about to stop any time soon. “Would you be so patient as to explain to me how one plays with...such game pieces as these?”

Shi Qing Xuan squinted at the screen, frowning. “...I dunno, I just pick whatever outfits I’m in the mood for and then let the auto-battle option do the rest. Anyway, this is another idol outfit, but it’s from a different collab and in THIS one you can see that I’m wearing striped panties--”

“Is there an aim to the game?” Xie Lian prodded gently, trying to keep Shi Qing Xuan on...some sort of track that didn’t just involve her showing off her pretend closet for the next hour. “Does one battle against any sort of opponents?”

“Ugh, you martial gods and your one-track minds,” Shi Qing Xuan sighed and shook her head. “Yes, I guess you fight monsters and stuff. And like, you can join a team with people on your friend list and take on raid battles with them -- those are like, battles with really strong opponents. And once you kill ‘em you get prizes.”

Xie Lian gave a polite “hm.” He supposed he could see the appeal of practicing strategy with such a...low-impact method, but he wasn’t convinced it would impart any real-world benefits when it came to actual combat. He didn’t become a martial god by sitting inside playing xiangqi, after all.

“There’s a story.” Ming Yi had finally diverted his attention from his noodles. He cleared his throat, and squared his jaw, clearly itching to say more. “In the game.”

Shi Qing Xuan gestured wildly with her fan. “Yeah, that too! In the idol collab there was a WHOLE story about me and Ming-Xiong and I forget who else teaming up with a bunch of mortal girls who were desperate to save their school from closing, so they offered up a prayer and--”

“The MAIN story,” Ming Yi cut in. “Is about a sect of cultivators out to save humanity from a prophecy of destruction. They summon the aid of the gods to help in their battle, and along the way, they encounter many twists and turns and eventually they discover that the prophecy came from a mysterious race of aliens from beyond the stars who wish to sacrifice humanity in a crucible to split off the timeline, but in actuality this already happened millennia ago, or maybe millennia in the future if you think about it laterally, or maybe it happens in a cycle or all at once, but whatever the case may be the heroes must find a way to unite the True Timeline with the Dark Timeline, but which timeline is real? What will become of our heroes when the timelines are merged? Also the main character cultivator who’s kind of a blank slate but not really if you play the sub-scenarios has an evil twin or possibly an alternate-reality clone who can summon the power of the demon kings and it’s not clear if he’s working with the aliens or a rival cultivation sect or if he’s just a rogue agent out to sow chaos and destruction--”

Shi Qing Xuan started slurping noodles as loud as she possibly could, and the noise combined with the rush of pinging merits drowned out Ming Yi as he continued to confuse and vex everyone who heard him. Fuming, Ming Yi returned to his task of eating his feelings.

“Anyway,” Shi Qing Xuan said, daintily wiping her mouth, careful not to smear her lip rouge. “You get it now, your highness?”

“A bit,” Xie Lian said, lying through his teeth to avoid having it explained further.

“Great! Now, you get all these cute little cards by drawing for them in a lottery, and you can either grind for free game currency by toiling away on tasks...or you can just buy currency and draw until you get everything you want!”

Shi Qing Xuan’s tone clearly showed which method of cultivation she preferred. Still, when it came to matters of luck and lottery, it was best for Xie Lian to not get involved at all.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Windmaster, but I wouldn’t want to upset your fortune by staying here. I wish you and your whale the best of luck in…” He gestured vaguely. “...cultivation?”

“Nononono, stay! C’mon, did you think I didn’t remember about your Thing when I invited you in?” Shi Qing Xuan lunged forward and dragged Xie Lian back down to sit on the colorful silk cushions. “It’s so BORING doing this with just Ming-Xiong to keep me company -- it’ll totally be a hoot to see how bad our rolls are with you in the room! I’ll just draw for my new outfit later. It’s for the ballet event, by the way.”

“Oh,” said Xie Lian.

“I’m a swan princess,” Shi Qing Xuan elaborated. “Cursed by a dark wizard to force me to be his bride. Bird by day, fair maiden by moonlight. And only a kiss from a prince can save me!”

“I see,” said Xie Lian.

“Odette dies at the end of that ballet,” Ming Yi noted.

“Nuh-uh!” Shi Qing Xuan shot back. “The wizard turns into a big ugly monster and the prince shoots him and then the prince cries on her body and stuff and she’s alive somehow! And she’s a human again but she can still turn into a swan for all the sequels. There was a turtle and a penguin or something too.”

Ming Yi stared at Shi Qing Xuan with a mouthful of noodles, and Shi Qing Xuan took this as a victory, somehow. With a flourish, she presented her glowing screen to Xie Lian. There was so much going on that Xie Lian didn’t even know what he was looking at. Beautiful fairies with petal wings, with butterfly wings, fluttered here and there, glowing orbs and blooming flowers decorated banners encouraging players to “draw now!” And surely players had a glut of choices to draw from. There was a banner with Shi Qing Xuan pouting and winking at the camera, there was a banner with Feng Xin and Mu Qing facing each other down with bow and spear in hand, there was even a banner with the Rain Master’s loyal ox assistant...wearing a black blindfold, white wig, and a short, frilly black dress. (“Geez, is that Nier collab still going on?” asked Shi Qing Xuan.)

Shi Qing Xuan tapped on one of the banners, and pointed to a glowing button on the bottom of the screen. A set of eight fairies fluttered their wings, just waiting for their cue to pull back the curtain and reveal what awaited behind it.

“Press the button,” beseeched Shi Qing Xuan, wriggling in place. “Press it, press it, c’mon, your highness!”

“It’s your money on the line,” Xie Lian said, simply, and tapped the screen.

A lavishly-animated cinematic played on the screen. The fairies swirled around the white-clad cultivator character, who raised their sword to the sky -- causing the clouds to split with a crack of thunder. Rainbow light filled the screen, and energetic strings and drums added to the assault on the senses.

“Oooh!” Shi Qing Xuan clapped her hands in excitement. “Rainbow clouds! You got me at least one ultra-rare card out of that, your highness! I think your luck’s finally turning around!”

“Maybe it’s just that his luck’s so bad that it got confused and looped around,” Ming Yi said.

Shi Qing Xuan nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, honestly, that’s more likely.”

“I won’t exactly argue,” Xie Lian said. “But I must protest.”

The cinematic finally ended, and the results of the draw displayed on the screen. Xie Lian squinted, a bit confused at what he was seeing. Shi Qing Xuan and Ming Yi’s jaws had both dropped to the floor; struck into speechlessness by the outcome. But the silence was quite brief. Shi Qing Xuan let out a shriek that rattled the windows and had the microphones panging with horrible feedback.

“THEY DO EXIST! YOU DO EXIST!” Shi Qing Xuan leapt onto Xie Lian, shaking him by the shoulders. “NO ONE’S EVER MANAGED TO FIND YOU BUT YOU JUST FOUND YOU! FOR ME! LIVE! ON MY STREAM!”

Xie Lian briefly glanced at the array chat, which was absolutely exploding with expressions of excitement, of disbelief, of frog puppets. All over -- him? Xie Lian didn’t understand. Least of all because Shi Qing Xuan was making no sense at all and was no longer able to control the pitch of her voice. It was rapidly approaching levels that only dogs could hear.

The roll he’d made was impressive, evidently, by the game’s standards. He’d figured out that much. But...all the cards were just...him. Him in various outfits. There he was in his plain white robes and straw hat, dangling his bare feet in a stream while animated flower petals drifted around him and Ruoye twirled about his ankles. There he was as the flower-crowned martial god, wielding Fang Xin and flinging his golden mask aside as he reached into the air as if to catch something. There he was, holding his hat to his head and smiling over his shoulder at the camera, reaching out his hand as if to beseech the viewer to take it. There he was, in light and colorful summer robes, dancing under lantern light to the beat of the festival drums. There he was, face half-hidden behind the hood of a voluminous wool-lined cloak, warming his hands on a mug of tea as snow swirled around him. There he was, as -- as a bride, gazing demurely up at the camera with blushing cheeks and parted lips as his mystery groom drew back his veil…

“Um,” Xie Lian said. “You...you don’t have to use any of these. As game pieces. In fact, please don’t.”

Shi Qing Xuan briefly stopped screaming directly in Ming Yi’s ear long enough to whirl around, wild-eyed. She flashed a terrifying grin at him.

“I am the only person ever to have gotten even one card of you, let alone ten,” Shi Qing Xuan said. “I am going to show off so much.”

“These cards have amazing stats,” Ming Yi was murmuring to himself. Excitement was coloring his normally-expressionless face. “They’re just broken. They’ll revolutionize the meta. I’ll have to update the wiki; all the literature gods are going to be SO pissed that I got to it first…okay, the game crashes when you try to equip the Chef card, I’ll list that as a bug...”

Shi Qing Xuan snapped her fingers at Ming Yi, and Ming Yi wordlessly handed the glowing screen back to her. They were both staring at Xie Lian with expressions of determination, of hunger. Xie Lian’s eyes scanned the room, looking for the best escape route.

“Your highness,” Shi Qing Xuan said, voice dripping with sweetness. She offered the screen with both hands, and inched closer, closer. “Won’t you roll for us again? Once, twice more, maybe?”

Which would turn into thrice more, which would turn into him being locked in the mansion’s basement for the next month. Xie Lian had no talent for fortune-telling, but he wasn’t blind to where this was going. Those windows looked extremely breakable, surely it would only take a single kick. They were up rather high, however, and Xie Lian couldn’t afford to land wrong and be hobbled with the Windmaster in hot pursuit -- and, from the array’s continuing reaction, perhaps all of Heaven would be only steps behind as well --

Suddenly, there was an announcement on the screen, heralded by the rumble of drums. Shi Qing Xuan and Ming Yi were distracted enough for Xie Lian to start creeping towards the door to make a stealthier escape.

“It’s…a flash event! A limited-edition raid!” Shi Qing Xuan read off the screen, with growing excitement. “‘A Raid for the Strongest and the Prettiest Only’ -- Ming-Xiong, that’s us, that’s us, it’s only us, right?”

“Obviously,” Ming Yi said, rolling his eyes. He summoned his own glowing screen.

“Tell the rest of the guild to get online! Right now!”

“No need. We’ve got ten secret weapons in our deck. Lead off with the one of him in the teahouse waitress outfit, that’s a buffing card, then swoop in with the pincer of the orchestra card and the one of him in the bunny ears, then mop up whatever’s left with that overly-horny one of him in the river flashing his ankles…”

The raid had apparently begun, and to Xie Lian’s surprise, his cards really did seem like they were useful...or as far as he could tell, they were useful. They were easily cutting through the little green goblin sprites that advanced across the screen, and there were a lot of loud noises and flashing colors. It covered his escape quite nicely, and Xie Lian was able to creep out of the mansion and back onto the heavenly avenues without being stuffed into a sack and imprisoned in a locked room, to tap a screen until his finger fell off.

The rest of Heaven was under the same thrall that had swept Shi Qing Xuan and Ming Yi away -- they stood motionless in place, or paced in circles, furiously tapping and swiping away at their screens. The raid had apparently interrupted a real-life brawl between Feng Xin and Mu Qing, and they lay slumped against each other for support, bruised and bloodied and clutching their screens, as they battled for the title of Strongest and Prettiest.

It was truly outstanding. Whoever was behind this game now held control over Heaven -- surely, an entire army could leisurely stroll down the streets and not be confronted by a single god, so engrossed they were in their virtual world. Xie Lian briefly wondered if Jun Wu was a fan, too. He imagined a horde of demons sauntering into the hall that housed the throne of Heaven, and pushing Jun Wu off of it with a single finger as he poked away at his screen. Xie Lian shuddered. Those thoughts were probably some form of blasphemy.

Who could manage this kind of feat? Who was cunning enough? Skilled enough? Audacious enough?

There was only one possible answer, and luckily, Xie Lian had a standing invitation to dinner with him any time he pleased.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian said, bowing at the entrance to Hua Cheng’s study. “Please forgive the intrusion.”

Hua Cheng’s expression was warm and welcoming as he rose from his desk to greet Xie Lian at the door.

“My home is always open to you. But to what do I owe the pleasure of a surprise visit? I haven’t had the time to prepare any treats for us, nor the time to prepare my heart for seeing gege’s face and hearing his voice.”

“Oh, stop,” Xie Lian said, waving off Hua Cheng’s teasing. “I just wanted to...lay low here, for a little while. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all.” Hua Cheng’s eye was shining, and his expression was warm as he regarded Xie Lian. He was certainly in a pleasant mood today; Xie Lian hoped his unannounced visit wouldn’t dampen things. “I’ll have a guest room prepared, and we’ll have a feast tonight -- I can have a bath drawn for you while you wait, and I have many fragrant oils I can comb into gege’s hair while he relaxes--”

“Have you heard of a game called Celestial Cultivation Conference?” asked Xie Lian.

“I could rename it to that if gege finds Celestial Confluence/Cultivation Cross too unappealing,” Hua Cheng said. “We could discuss it after we settle on which oil you prefer.”

“Ah,” Xie Lian said. “So you are the mind behind that game. It’s causing quite the crisis in Heaven right now.”

“Oh yes,” Hua Cheng said, his eye crinkling as he smiled. “I know. Almond oil?”

“And you’re responsible for all those strange outfit cards.”

“I outsource some of the art to trusted assistants,” Hua Cheng said. “Though I take care of the most important art personally. Coconut oil?”

Xie Lian eyed him warily. “...and you’re responsible for the game’s, ah, story?”

Hua Cheng made a face. “Ah, your highness, please don’t remind me. No, I outsourced that nonsense too, but I fear I should have paid more attention when the ghostwriter submitted it for approval. No one plays this thing for the story but one has to have standards.”

Xie Lian turned this thought over in his mind. The corner of his mouth twitched. “...ghostwriter?”

Hua Cheng bared his teeth in a wide grin, and Xie Lian snorted before smacking him on the arm lightly. In truth, he didn’t blame Hua Cheng for the...situation in Heaven, nor could he really blame the game itself. No one was ever forced to participate in any of Hua Cheng’s various business ventures. There never any trickery, any unfairness -- Hua Cheng clearly found it far more entertaining to watch as people leapt into his stewpot of their own free will; motivated by greed and pride and vanity and jealousy and other such dark drivers of the human condition. And this new game of his seemed to bring out all of said emotions in spades.

“Rose oil,” Hua Cheng declared with an air of finality. “Its fragrance will suit you. I’ll ring for bath water--”

“Ah!” Xie Lian clapped his hands together. “There were workers here digging a hot spring the last time I visited, yes? I asked them what they were working on. Have they finished?”

Hua Cheng’s eyebrows rose, and he pouted briefly. “...yes. That was supposed to be a special surprise. I haven’t finished arranging it to receive gege yet.”

Xie Lian’s shoulders drooped. “Ah...I understand, I’m sorry for being so forward. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a nice soak. And you mentioning oils reminded me how lovely it is to soothe sore muscles with a massage after a long dip in the springs...”

A pulse of energy palpably resonated through the manor’s structure, nearly knocking Xie Lian off his feet.

“Actually, I forgot, it’s arranged right now,” Hua Cheng said hastily. He rubbed at his arm where Xie Lian had swatted him earlier. “Did I happen to mention that my arm has been very sore lately?”

Xie Lian tutted and shuffled in to take Hua Cheng’s wrist in one hand, and his elbow in the other, flexing the arm carefully to check for stiffness. The floodgates had been opened, and now Xie Lian would talk about health and wellness until physically restrained. “Now, San Lang, you can’t ignore your body like that. If you’re sore or stiff, then you should visit a doctor.”

Driven on by an earnest and entirely innocent passion for Hua Cheng’s well-being, Xie Lian felt his way up Hua Cheng’s bicep with one hand, checking for muscle knots and tender spots.

“I don’t feel anything particularly off, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not hurting. It does mean that I’ll have to give you a more general workup instead of just targeting your arm, though, since I’m not sure of the source of the problem. Will it bother you if I massage your neck and back? Perhaps your thighs and calves, too. Are there any sensitive spots I should avoid?”

Hua Cheng’s expression was blank, and he had a faraway look in his eye. “...his highness may...workup wherever pleases him…”

Xie Lian smiled. “You’re a model patient, San Lang. Fetch that rose oil you mentioned? It’ll suit you, too.”

And so, profits that year broke all previous records, especially after the surprise release of the Hot Springs Set; the most overly horny collection yet in the hottest app on the market. From the creator that brought you My Sword Boyfriend and Rabbit Turf War, download Celestial Confluence/Cultivation Cross today!

“Hey. Hey. Crimson Rain Seeks Flower.”

“...”

“I’m way too cute and way too annoying to ignore so I know you heard me! So, Crimson Rain Seeks Flower. As my third-best friend--”

“That is an exceedingly unfortunate sentiment if true, Windmaster.”

“--as my third-best friend, I think you owe me the full scoop on what you’re doing with all this dough you’ve been raking in. C’mon, c’mon. I just wanna make sure you’re investing it wisely!”

Hua Cheng mulled things over for a moment, then pulled a small, elegant notebook from his pocket.

“Investments for the future. Savings accounts to ensure our children receive the best education. Retirement funds -- I wish to be able to eventually devote myself entirely to serving at Qiandeng Temple, you see, and to pass off the reins of the business to one of the children who proves to have a head for it. And before any of that,” Hua Cheng continued. “Wedding planning is quite expensive and tiring indeed. Choosing gowns, choosing flowers, choosing menus for dinner and lunch and brunch and tea and dessert. Bringing together all the guests on my guest list has proven to be quite the headache in and of itself.”

Shi Qing Xuan peeked at the list. “...what’s a ‘Hatsune Miku’? And a ‘Beyonce’?”

Hua Cheng rolled his eye and sighed at Shi Qing Xuan’s lack of culture. “The artists performing at the reception will hail from dimensions far and wide. Which brings us to another item proving to be quite expensive; researching interdimensional travel. Once that’s settled, we’ll be able to finalize the guest list and start looking for a patissier capable of bringing my cake design into reality.”

Hua Cheng smiled at Shi Qing Xuan warmly, and Shi Qing Xuan hesitantly smiled back, unsure of how to react to this sudden outpouring of Crimson Rain’s most secret desires. Hua Cheng snapped his fingers in Shi Qing Xuan’s face, and after a split-second, the Windmaster sighed and slumped over.

“And you won’t remember a word of that when you wake up, because I know you’ll run that mouth of yours and spoil the surprise for gege,” Hua Cheng finished. “I just know he’ll love Miku.”

#天官赐福 #tgcf #heavenly official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #hualian #a tenderly crafted fanfiction

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waldowski89-blog · 5 years

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Tumblr Written Return.

So, I’m back here doing my usual routine. Hello, I guess… you guess? In any case, I enjoy these don’t get me wrong. My abrasiveness is just something acquired, I think. Or not talking to people, I don’t know. Okay, that started off on a wrong foot, left or right you decide… god this is rubbish. So I’ll split this into 3? I didn’t say that last time. I think three segments is enough for 1,000 words… enough for anybody.

I think I’m at the point where most people give up [Edit 20-02-19: I kinda wanna.]. I want to be relentless with this. This notebook seems like it may take longer to fill. Anyway apparently there’s a point where people quit or feel like it but it comes just before take off as it were. Not that that was ever the plan of course. I always felt if it made one person laugh or happy or entertained etc. then it was worth it. I’ll take regular in writing this or these [Edit 20-02-19: I seriously don’t know what that means… oh breaks I think I meant.]. I won’t include times though just dates. All that was probably only interesting to me anyway. I don’t really know.

Wow, can you believe I’ve been here on and off for about two years now? Does it seem like that? I don’t know. Don’t roll your eyes at that. It really has been a while, hasn’t it? Do you look forward to another two years? I’m smiling so I must be. I never cared about popularity or getting paid… hint hint. Eurgh, all that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I just want to entertain but one has to make a living too. Can one really trade in blood… that’s overly creepy. I meant metaphysically. I don’t always talk about positive subjects. Also I was about to talk on where I’ve been this past month. The thought is conflicted… who really cares anyway. Why am I so grim and grey? Cue Bohemian Rhapsody. Actually that’s interesting that’s a nonsense song and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is a nonsense story. I really want to get around to reading that. I want to do a reading on a new channel of mine. It’s not set up properly though and I have nothing to post there yet. Just a few maybe dumb outtakes of Jane Eyre. I wanted to read that first… for an old friend. I LOVE YA BUB! BUB. Hey that’s a point, I forget to do ending ideas on my streams. I shall begin that again too… I mean I already started streaming again but I meant the Ending Ideas™ IN ANY CASE! (My talents are wasted) (What talent?)

Where I’ve Been? been up to?

Right hello again, next section. So I’m not going to go into depths as to where I was and what I got up to. Suffice it to say that it was an education. An ongoing education. Also one that technically started years ago. There’s no need for me to go into great detail anyway. Clearly there’s something wrong with my mental health. I have been determined to have a mental disorder. That is or it has been observed that way. I don’t disagree. Oof, I don’t like talking about it. It always brings the mood down. Put short I am depressed and this could be due to anxieties I have. Fear not though for I am getting help. Deers. Should I call my audience deers? Jeeze why the fuck do I have an audience for this? It’s not fun. Hopefully talking helps. Openly or at least as openly as one would like. I want to move on already. With life, with everything. Again, fear not, for I will stay here as I can. It’s too dour. Let us move on shall we? I’ve barely broached the subject though. However I feel I’ve said enough. I hope.

In any case, hope is a good tool in these situations. Hope that things will get better and that it just takes time… it’s taking a pretty fucking long time, huh? That’s about all I’ve got on this subject for now. Oh, except that there was an app about all this. Link! Hey you! Yes you! Got crippling depression? Feel anxious all the time? Yes? Then there’s an app for you.

Okay, now that was overly facetious (I’ll have to edit in whether I spelt facetious right or not later) [Edit 20-02-19: I did.]. Anyway I’ll link (spelt tink wrong it’s early… and I did it even wronger just then). I’ll link it at the end. I haven’t used it myself (fear perhaps) but I will in time. It sounds very helpful bringing each other hope in depressing times/situations/circumstances.

I’ve always wanted to help people. Entertain people. Keep people smiling. It’s nice. Like Psycho Mantis in Metal Gear Solid: “I’ve never used my powers to help people before… It feels… kind of… nice…”. I can still hear that in my head. Gosh, I played Metal Gear Solid a lot as a child… David Hayter in that Christmas message about it was like: “Yeah, well it’s a dark world.”. That was epic where he just dropped into The Voice™: “Brother” and Cam Clarke too: “Dear brother.” I FUCKING LOVE THAT GAME AND ALL THE VOICE ACTORS AND CREATORS AND EVERYONE! … In any case… FFFOXE DIE DIE DIE… calm down Andrew. Counterintuitively I’m listening to the Hitman Blood Money Soundtrack.

Been Looking at Microphones.

Anyway, time to move on. I wrote the above title a few days ago. I’ll read back this thing to get a better idea of where I am. I usually write these in bits over a few days.

Okay, so that seems like a waste of time. It’s just my usual pontificating. So the microphones. I don’t know or remember why I wanted to dedicate a whole section to that but hey ho here we are (I’m listening to the album Hollow Bones by Rival Sons by the way. More Links!). Um basically I was thinking of investing in a much more expensive microphone. That’s it really.

So moving on from that… jeeze it feels like one of these mission constraints in Assassin’s Creed. “Write only about buying a professional microphones only” Well I’ve broken that constraint but there’s no checkpoint here.

In any case, that was it. Interestingly though I found the album Hollow Bones by chance or by how I usually find music and that’s through the recommended on iTunes. I actually do usually judge an album by it’s cover and this one is cool. It has what could be an arctic fox on the front. I’ll put a pic in here.

[Edit 22-02-19: Nice vape, yo.]

I found this album from the recommended in Victorious by Wolfmother. That album gives me nostalgia (what doesn’t?) for a few years ago. It was when I was in the grip of psychosis I think (That’s brave? Don’t post this) I thought I was in a TV show or something. I can’t be the only one to ever have felt this way… Derren Brown more specifically anyway. That’s all over with now. I wasn’t it turns out. I thought the music was a message to me directly as if created for me… I know it’s or may be narcissistic of me. Anyway I tried to listen and applied the lyrics to my life… ANYWAY… I guess I finish this by linking a Jack White video: “Let the music tell you what to do” I haven’t even watched it yet. I will now but alas we are at the end of another Tumblr. I look forward to working with you again friend… The Internet. My name’s Waldowsky (with a ‘y’ why? for now) and thank you to every single one of you who read. My hand hurts (Stop complaining, Andrew).

Just watched it. Well I was going to say I can write a bunch and keep it all. I hardly delete anything. I’ll link Death Letter too… I really love that track. Curiouser and curiouser, I just realised it’s from De Stijl… what a coincidence that he should mention that song.

[Final Edit 20-02-19: A lot of this made no fucking sense.]

[Final Final Edit 22-02-19 or P.S.: The app was called Wisdo. Still haven’t tried it yet.]

Links

Wisdo

Hitman: Blood Money Soundtrack [Edit 22-02-19: I nearly forgot to add this. I need to find a soundtrack for Metal Gear Solid too. I have some music from that game, so don’t you worry.]

Hollow Bones - Rival Sons

Victorious - Wolfmother

Jack White - Speech: "Let the music tell you what to do" | Producers & Engineers Honoree | GRAMMYS

Bonus

Bonus Bonus [Edit 22-02-19: There ya go.]

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castrocelina760 · 4 years

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CAVS Karaoke DVD-203g USB Supercdg Gamer: Advantages And Disadvantages Of The CAVS DVD-203G USB

Are you thinking about CAVS Karaoke DVD-203G Player? We have actually carefully analyzed and checked the CAVS DVD-203G USB in both house and expert environments and their are a couple of essential indicate think about when examining this design. Karaoke addicts, Junkies, lovers and specialists alike will value this in depth take a look at a brand-new innovation.

There has actually been great deals of discuss the CAVS Karaoke Players so we believed we ‘d make the effort to check among the more popular designs. The DVD-203G USB has all the typical functions like 2 mic inputs with echo, programmable tune buying, numerical keypad to access any number tune, adult control, digital Key control and Voice cancelling on multiplex discs however here we’ll cover benefits and drawbacks on crucial sights.

CONS

Specialists will not utilize the provided microphone. To my ear, as an expert I like to utilize high quality mics so the vocalists constantly sound their finest. That being stated, the typical “customer ear” might discover that the provided CAVS microphone sounds simply great.

There are no expensive video graphics like you see with the 12″ laser discs. What you get is backup tracks of CD quality music with the tune’s lyrics on your display or TELEVISION.

There are a number of ala carte additionals to think about prior to purchasing a CAVS DVD-203G USB as follows:

It’s possible to Make your own SuperCDGs from your old CD+G library or from your MP3 collection of non-Karaoke tunes with the optional software application.

In order to make your own SCDGs you require extra software application for around $49 or a luxurious variation for $69 from the maker.

The compromises do not surpass the worths. There were a couple of included expenses for a hard disk and some extra SCDG discs however we now have an expandable system which plays SCDGs. With this system, the only thing that sets the pros apart from the beginners is the ‘7 Rules to Hosting a CAVS Karoke Party’.

Conserve Money from purchasing a lot of discs.

Conserve Time from altering discs in between vocalists.

Conserve Pain from bring numerous discs in cases.

Conserve the headache from handling scratched discs when you switch them out considering that the requirement to switch discs it practically removed.

Plays every format: DVD/VCD/SCDG/ CD+G/ CD/CD-R/CD-RW/ MP3/JPEG/Kodak Photo CD.

SuperCDGs can be used your computer system. Each retail disc includes a self consisted of PC program which loads and plays the hundreds and countless tunes enabling you to do a karaoke program with simply your (DVD geared up) PC or Laptop.

For the Professional:.

Mix-Down enables you to make studio type output of your efficiency to an external recorder or computer system.

An Audio/Video cable television is consisted of however any extra cable televisions for instance; SVideo, Coaxial or Optical cable televisions will need to be acquired individually.

The USB port is for an external hard disk drive which is NOT consisted of so that will cost $100+ depending upon the size however you might fit as much as 100,000 tunes or more on the larger ones.

PROS.

Outstanding noise and plan Quality - We checked the Sweet Georgia Brown Magic Tracks with 1208 tunes and the quality of the noise and the musical plans were exceptional.

The system has 2 mic inputs however just features one microphone as was pointed out above. You may desire a 2nd for all those duets.

With the CAVS DVD-203G USB Player you can likewise link to an optional CAVS 60, 160 or 250 Gigabyte hard disk for a tremendous storage capability of 100,000 tunes.

The CAVS DVD-203G USB is a typical sized parts which fits well into a house entertainment system or professional rack. The experts utilize the mixer and video straight to a video display or video spot bayto sync numerous TVs.

The majority of plans consist of 1 disc (approximately 1250 tunes) so if you desire more discs they can cost in between $70 - $200.

In Conclusion.

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keepingupwithmsjohnson · 5 years

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Today I

walked all the way downtown and found out museums cost more here than they do in México. I could go to a fancy schmancy museum for the equivalent of like $4-5 in México but here it's a smooth $13-15. It's good I don't have a lot of money to spare or I would've spent it for the experience. Instead I admired the tons of outdoor sculptures and all the beings I'm used to seeing as houseplants out in the open in conditions that allow them such really incredible growth and expansion.

am gonna share the real truth about downtown is that I got there by 10am to catch a free walking tour and then bailed on the tour bc the guide rubbed me the wrong way before even getting into the first building on the tour. While waiting for it to start I saw a poster for an exhibition by Jiménez Heredia and it was his sculptures that I saw all around the city center.

got a kick out of guys on actual, proper nice microphones convincing people to go into their stores.

learned that San José's streets are like nothing I've ever experienced before. Every street is either a Calle, an Avenida or a Transversal. You can be on Calle 25 and Avenida 7 in several different neighborhoods. Not a East, West, South, North indicator in sight. I walked in the rain for at least an hour and a half bc I hate looking at maps every two seconds and it was raining and I, umbrellaless, found myself walking confidently in the wrong direction. It didn't matter when I was just trying to find the Mercado Central. It was tragic and hilarious by the time I was trying to walk back to the hostel and realized I was on the wrong Calle 23 like 3 neighborhoods over.

ate at a small restaurant in a market that wasn't the Mercado Central but close enough at the time. The woman who took my order rubbed my back at one point. She spoke fast but was very sweet. I think it was her husband that made sure I got a spoon for the spicy carrots on the table.

walked into a bookstore and saw that I know a good amount of Latin American authors! and that there are manga versions in Spanish of Nietzsche and the New Testament of the Bible, among other things.

ran into the Mercado Central when I wasn't looking for it and looked for something sweet, only to find I didn't have enough cash on me for it. Then I started to see diff groups of several Black people who looked and sounded like they were from the US. My soul reached out but I was also drenched and they weren't paying me no attention haha

went to go see El Despertar de Las Hormigas. It was lovely. I'm gonna be processing in my journal tomorrow. All I have to say now is that I'm okay with not having a more traditional trajectory. I have the privilege of getting to think only about myself more often than not and that's still the speed I'm at and I'm okay with it.

saw the outline of this man's body and his motorcycle helmet at his side and then I saw his face and then I wanted to look again and again and again but alas, we went in different directions. Just on my very short way back from the movie. I had been plotting on getting something sweet from the market on the corner and after I saw him I knew no postre was gonna cut the longing for some semblance of pleasure. I tried anyway, got guayaba-filled cookies. Thought a crunch might be satisfying but I wouldn't buy chips again tonight. Turns out I was right. I knew I was right when I was walking around the market but I wanted to be wrong.

think I'll look up the words from things I've read and didn't all the way understand before bed.

called a friend of a friend of a friend who lives here and made arrangements to see the city tomorrow

remembered there are a lot of attractive men around to see but few that make you slow down for a bit.

wondered if I make anyone slow down for a bit.

was told again to get out of San José as soon as possible. Still listening. Still planning to go to La Fortuna a little after the ass crack of dawn on Saturday.

needed the ambling and am starting to feel more at peace.

wrote in my journal a whole lot, including mis prioridades y agradecimientos.

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grapsandclaps · 5 years

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GRAPS AND CLAPS REVIEWS - PCW 'ROAD TO GLORY' 2019

Hello and welcome to this edition of Graps and Claps, this time taking me to Blackpool for PCW’s Road to Glory weekender with what was advertised of being two tournaments taking place with the Singles on Saturday and the Tag Team tournament on the Sunday. However, in a change to the advertised schedule there was a removal of the tag tournament probably due to the non-availability of suitable tag combinations. In its place on the Sunday we instead had a TV style taping session for PCW’s new show on the Fight Network which will be launched in the coming weeks. Also being televised will be the Road to Glory Singles Tournament which involved a total of 16 wrestlers – with 8 First Round matches, followed by the Quarters, Semi-Finals and Final all on one enormous day of wrestling.

Now how we are going to do this as it was a ram-packed weekend of grappling action, is to run you through some of the highlights on show and also take you into detail about the Blackpool beer scene or lack of thereof. Arriving into Blackpool at 12 Noon, after a journey of two and half hours coming from my house to Manchester and then to the seaside mecca, we met up with Andrew Campbell who we had been with at the PCW show in Leeds the night before (this will be reviewed by our Geoff later in the week).

With a small amount of time before the show started, we were planning to visit a local real ale choice in the form of The Pump and Truncheon, sadly though this was closed due to a refurbishment. So Instead we plumped for The Castle (a proper Geezer Pub), which looks inviting from the outside, but once you are inside it reminds you of a weekend away in Magaluf with a packed pub full of tourists dancing away to DJ Otzi, getting pissed on gassy lager whilst listening to the styling’s of Joe Curran’s Marmite Show – think of him as Blackpool’s answer to Bernard Manning handing out sharp barbs to anyone daring to walk past him to the toilets, so sharp were these barbs he had to have a bouncer stand next to him in-case anyone decided to spark him out!.

With the 1st PCW show starting at 1pm, we made our way to the venue with what I would say around 100 in attendance for the first show, meaning those who had bought the cheaper tickets got moved forward into the VIP front row seats, so lucky for me I could stretch my legs for the duration for 3 out of the 4 shows. In general, the attendance was around the same level for all 4 shows with Show 2 and Show 4 providing the larger crowds which was a shame. However, with that said and it can’t be denied is that PCW produced 4 solid shows on this weekend – so let’s start with the show 1.

Best matches:

Jeff Cobb vs Tom Lawler – A masterclass in grappling and the pure wrestling style with Olympic trained wrestler and current ROH TV Champion Jeff Cobb taking on the current MLW Champion, Tom Lawlor. If you like your wrestling full of Suplex variations from both guys, plus hard lariats this was the one for you with the former UFC star Lawlor getting the victory with a rear naked choke on Cobb to advance to the next round in around 15 minutes and for me the best match of the 4 shows taking place in Blackpool. Lawlor is easily someone I can see like a certain Matt Riddle who can reach that top level in the world of wrestling, as he has done in the world of MMA.

Sheikh El-Sham vs Philip Michael – Two of PCWs standouts from the Academy, took to the squared circle in the match before the interval and once again they proved why they are both so highly rated by many people on the local scene. One constant you will read through this report is how good Sheikh El-Sham is getting nowadays from a character and an all-round package standpoint – from the promos, the sneers and subtle winding-up of the crown, plus a look of someone who can go very far in his wrestling career – he is coming off with that star quality. Philip has a star quality from a wrestling standpoint, but I do feel he needs that little bit of pizazz added to his repertoire ala Zack Sabre Jr to push to that next level, but that will come with time. What would become Philip’s downfall in this match, would be played out for the rest of the weekend, as he went to leap at Sham, but on landing he jarred his knee – something that both Sheikh El-Sham and Tel Banham would target on the other shows.

Another thing to point out from this match, would be the first appearance of Referee, Mark Alexander Price who the previous evening cost T-Bone winning the PCW Heavyweight Title off of Tel Banham, by reversing a decision a replacement ref made whilst Price was knocked down. The story with Price was that being hinted was he the main heel group ‘The Buyout’ paid off official in which he would somehow always get in the way of The Buyout’s opponent and in turn costing them the match with his biased officiating. As a weekend long story, this was fantastically done with every time that Price made his entrance to the ring he got mercifully booed from the crowd in attendance.

As per this match, Price got in Philip Michael’s way causing Phil to be caught with the roll-through spear by Sham who advanced to the next round to the jeers of the audience. Before this match we had an appearance during an interview segment by Tel Banham who challenged Philip to a Cruiserweight title match that would take place later on in the second show due to Philip being eliminated – more on that later!

Sugar Dunkerton vs MJF – Plenty of shenanigans in this one with Sugar riling up MJF by nicking his Burberry scarf and duly wiping his arse with it. MJF who impressed when he was over last May, was once excellent again as the cocky ‘Better than You’ antagonist compared to the fun-loving Dunkerton who had the crowd firmly on his side on this what was the 1-year anniversary of his first tour of the UK. Unfortunately for Sugar, it wouldn’t end so well as MJF kicked Sugar in the bollocks whilst Referee Des wasn’t looking and rolled up Sugar whilst having a hand on the ropes for more leverage to advance to the next round.

Other results from Round 1 were as follows:

‘Magnificent’ Matthew Brooks beat Dave Birch when hit the Big Leg for the three count. A big plus for Brooks this weekend, was the usually temperamental microphones were on amazing form this weekend, so his beautiful singing voice could be heard at full capacity.

Puerto Rico’s own Franco Varga who comes out to the Ricky Martin classic ‘Living La Vida Loca’ beat ‘Big Time’ Bruce Wheeler who is an Academy Graduate who has been wrestling for the last 8 months and whilst some of his ring work needs a bit of fine tuning, his mic work is very good for someone who hasn’t been doing this long. Franco who impressed on this weekend, especially with the kids in attendance who swamped him for photographs at the end of the show advanced to the next round when he hit a F5 into a stunner and then a Moonsault for the three count.

Jaxon Stone Everybody!! Who has the look of former Newcastle player Jonas Gutierrez put away Planet Bolton’s own Arcadian in a good contest that was back and forth for the duration of the contest, which ended when Jaxon put away Arcadian with a powerbomb to advance.

In what was supposed to Daniel Thorley (Academy Trainee) vs Iestyn Rees, never got going due to BIG T who felt jilted that he wasn’t in the tournament came in to lay waste to Daniel in the end racking him, to leave Iestyn just to walk to the ring to get the forfeit victory which had people thinking that Rees would be soon to be a member of the Buyout, despite him saying that he wanted to be his own man at the last show in Blackpool – this would be played out later in the show and the weekend.

Main event of show 1 was battle of former friends with Danny Hope taking on Joey Hayes. In what was very much a slow burner type of a match, that turned good near the end – Joey Hayes advanced when he locked in the Cross-Hayes on Danny to win via submission. Hope had earlier during the match thought he had won, but the referee noticed Hope had his feet on the ropes and promptly stopped the count.

Show one done – a quick drop off of my bags at our B&B for the evening, that being The Trentham B&B which cost £41 for the night, but the only down point being the low roof in my roof, meaning me and Geoff would have to very careful once we rolled in at 2 am half cut! Two pubs were visited in between Show 1 and 2, that being the local branch of Hogarths for a pint of Cheadle House Bitter at a cost of £1.95 to wet the taste buds whilst observing the bouncer in there who had the look of MJF less the Burberry scarf.

The other pub we tried in between was The 1887 Brew Room, which is the site of the formation of Blackpool F.C and has been turned into in the last year, into a brew pub as of West Coast brewery. This has been well needed in the town, as there is very much a lack of real ale choices apart the two ‘Spoons. Two pints in here were had including a Tiny Rebel Rise Lager (4.2% £3.90) and an 1887 Brew House Lager (4% £2.85), both which were very good being accompanied with a foot-long sausage and nachos for £4.25. This pub would be visited again after Show 2, for another two-hour session this time with The Indy Corner boys (Benno, JP and Joe and Colin) who had come up for the weekend – all cracking company throughout the time they were there.

Show two now, so let’s get into the best of the action:

MJF vs Joey Hayes – in a rematch of a cracker, MJF took on Joey Hayes, with Joey looking to avenge his defeat in May and once again they didn’t disappoint as MJF looked to finish off Joey with his rope-assisted piledriver, but only got a two count as he complained to the referee which soon led to his downfall as not long after this, Joey hit the JKO to get the three count and to advance to the Semi-Finals. Good crowd head especially with MJF who once again was a star on the microphone – this fella is money!!

Tom Lawlor vs Jaxon Stone & Franco Varga vs Iestyn Rees followed next in what were two very good big lad’s matches, with the Stone vs Lawler being probably the best of these two with Lawlor very much being on the defensive surviving close countouts at the count of 9 to carry on. Lawlor however managed to choke out the BIG Jaxon at the third attempt to advance to the Semis. In the other quarter, after a valiant effort by Franco Varga, he finally succumbed to iestyn Rees who beat him with the Alpha Lock to also cement his place in the Semi-Finals.

Shenanigans galore in the final Quarter match when Sheikh El-Sham scrambled through against ‘Magnificent’ Matthew Brooks after Sham was in a pinning position on Brooks, but with the aid of Danny Hope holding Brooks foot on the outside for added leverage to get the three count BOOOO!!! So your final 4 – Lawlor, Sham, Rees and Hayes!

Half-Time Main Event was a proper tour de force of emotions as Philip Michael challenged Tel Banham once again for the Cruiserweight Title, after losing in Blackpool the last time at Club Domain, so for Philip this was a chance at retribution. Fully based around Banham working on the already injured knee of Michael from earlier on, he was trying everything within his power to make the man from Accrington tap out. However, at one stage near the end of this match it looked like Philip would do the unthinkable and make Tel tap in a modified ‘Rings of Saturn’ but to the sadness of the crowd in attendance, Tel would get to the ropes. With the match reaching around the 20-minute marker it would be Tel who had done enough work on Phil to make him pass out from the pain to deflate the crowd into one big huff – an excellent match up though, that the crowd were fully invested in for the duration of – well done lads!!

Semi-Finals of the tournament we had Iestyn Rees facing Joey Hayes, which was all going well until BIG T got involved once again on this day to remonstrate with Iestyn who he had been courting on behalf of his group. This led though, to distract Iestyn enough to be rolled up by Joey who advances to the Road to Glory final leaving an angry man from Gloucester baying for BIG T’s blood.

In the other Semi-Final we had Sheikh El-Sham vs Tom Lawlor in an interesting styles clash, which on paper many people thought Lawlor would advance, but once we saw who the official was for the match doubt set in (Mark Alexander Price once again!!). Price would get involved once again as he gave a fast count as Sheikh had Lawlor pinned much to the disgust of the crowd. After the match, Lawlor would get his revenge as he choked out Price enough, that it ruled him out from reffing/spoiling the final.

Before the final we had a 6-man tag to break things up with ‘The Buyout’ (BIG T, Danny Hope and Nightshade) taking on Sugar Dunkerton, Matthew Brooks and Arcadian. In a really fun break from singles action, it would be ‘The Buyout’ who would get the victory as BIG T hit the final sentence to Arcadian to get the 3 count.

Final time now, with Sheikh El-Sham coming out on a royal throne carried by security in a proper WrestleMania type entrance – that had me applauding like a seal – taking on Joey Hayes in the Road to Glory Final. This match is very poignant for Sheikh, as his first ever match was against Hayes at the PCW Academy when he was defeated by the man from Leigh, since then though Sham has had the upper hand, but would it be the same on this evening. Lots of interference in this one including ‘The Buyout’ getting involved, that was until Referee Des ejected them, we had signs of tension between Sham and Banham as well – which in the future we could see played out!

As the match was reaching its climax and with Sham on Top, BIG T came in as well to put the final exclamation to Hayes whilst Des was floored, but out comes Iestyn Rees with a chair to wallop T over the head to send him packing. This in turn lead to Joey Hayes locking in the Cross Hayes at the second attempt to get the Submission to send the crowd home happy and to win the Road to Glory tournament and an opportunity at the PCW Title at a later date. A fitting way to end a fantastic, storyline driven tournament!

Show done, it was time to visit the bright lights of Blackpool, as mentioned spending a couple of hours once again in The Brew Room till around 10:15pm. That was before we made our way to The Castle only for that to be shut! However, we did end up going to The Layton Rakes Wetherspoons to sample the £1.95 bottles of Sierra Nevada, followed by Knobby’s Karaoke Bar to here many songs being mercifully murdered by the locals – including a rendition of The Cranberries hit ‘Zombie’

Next on the beer crawl of Blackpool, was local Irish bar ‘Shenanigans’ which can only be described as a shithole, where we stopped for an hour only before my dancing got even worse! Last pub for us was The Miffin which was a decent café style bar, but it was a bit dead like that scene out of The Inbetweeners whilst we sang along to ‘Sugar Sugar’ by The Archies as requested by my mate Andrew! That said it was time for me, Geoff and Jan to leave The Indy Corner boys and Andrew to party the night away in the local Popworld – of which I had reports of stunning barmaid from Andrew.

Waking up the next morning at 930am, we made our way down for breakfast which was a good effort, but I never understand why all B&B’s insist on only giving you 1 sausage??? Meeting up with Jan and Andrew we made our way in for Show 3 of the Blackpool weekend, not before being surprised when walking into the local CEX to see a DVD of something called ‘The Brave Little Toaster’, supposedly a Children’s film from the late 80’s costing the pricey sum of £28 – FUCK ME!!

Anyways, less about toasters and let’s get into what happened in Show 3 and 4 – these being the TV tapings for the Fight Network shows, so be aware of spoilers to come! Starting off the first taping we had Philip Michael who was still carrying a bit of a knee injury from the previous evening taking on Dave Birch! A very good start to proceedings here, with both wrestlers impressing, but if I am being a bit picky it maybe could have had a couple of minutes shaved off it as they were trying to hit all the moves – still excellent by all accounts. Philip got the victory here with the Rings of Saturn to Birch after earlier hitting a Canadian Destroyer on Birch for a two count.

The sounds of Big T’s entrance were heard next as he came out to take on Arcadian. As expected this was a bit of a mauling apart from Arcadian at least getting the big fella down to one knee with kicks. T finished off Arcadian in quick fashion with The Final Sentence to get the win, once again teasing us with the non-appearance of his famous rack move ‘The T-Break’.

More comedy stylings next as ‘BIG TIME” Bruce Wheeler took on Sugar Dunkerton. Plenty of talk prior to the match was of Bruce Wheeler saying that he had the writing credits to the tune ‘Sugar Sugar’ like a 1960s version of Gary Barlow nicking all of the writing credits – which got a few laughs from my mate Andrew about this! Sadly, this was no laughing matter for Wheeler as he was put away with a roll-through X-Factor for the win.

Non-title Women’s action with Desi Derata taking on the PCW Women’s Champion Nightshade. Derata who had been beaten by Nightshade in a 3-way match on Friday in Leeds was looking for revenge here. Early portion of this match was a bit rough around the edges, but as it went on it turned into a good contest, in which Derata got the shock victory by hitting a spinning bomb to Nightshade to get the 3 and as we would see later in Show 4 – a title shot. Unfortunately, though in the later match, it wasn’t meant to be for Desi as she was put away by Nightshade with a high-angled German Suplex to get the win. Nightshade it has to be said is very good at getting the crowd riled up and it is good to see her getting some newer opponents to start off 2019 – keep an eye out for her!

Next two matches were a decent Big lads match with Jaxon Stone taking on Franco Varga in which Stone got the victory and Iestyn Rees disposing Danny Hope in quick time – let it be known this wasn’t a good weekend for the Sheriff of Tasseltown, as apart from the 6-person match, he lost every match!

Up next we had the unveiling of a new PCW signing that being Joe Hendry, who we would find out was a supposed attacker of Matthew Brooks (which was announced at the start of the show that Brooks would not be appearing because of this). With Hendry proclaiming that he is a better singer and a wrestler than Brooks, this prompted Brooks’ friend Sugar Dunkerton to come out to remonstrate with Hendry – in a very good back and forth talking segment, it would be Sugar who ended up sending Hendry packing to the back with a right hook, but not before Hendry challenged Sugar to a time of his choosing which would be later on in the Second show. Good stuff this!

Main event of the first show was an All-Star tag with Sheikh El-Sham and Tel Banham trying to work out their differences, taking on Joey Hayes and Tom Lawlor. A chaotic tag match that ended up with the crooked referee Mark Price getting involved once again with some underhanded skulduggery and also the rest of Buyout interfering to stop Lawlor doing any damage. With Danny Hope and BIG T occupying both Tom Lawlor and Jeff Cobb, the latter who had come out to save his mate, this left Banham free to clock Joey with the PCW Title belt to Joey Hayes to floor him to get the three count as Price counted the fall to get the tainted win for The Buyout!

After the match though, Joey dusted himself off to challenge Banham for the PCW Title in the second show to send the crowd off for an hour break before the 4thand final show started. During the break, it was time to get some Fish and Chips from the Chippy next to Coral Island, which were are solid 8/10 standard costing £6.55! I forgot to say whilst I am typing, that beer was shunned in the first show by quite a few of us nursing hangovers – instead plumping for £2.50 cups of Slush Puppies – many a brain freeze was had in the space of 2 hours.

4th and final show now, starting off with 4-way action with Jaxon Stone taking on Dave Birch, Bruce Wheeler and Franco Varga respectively. In a really fun opener to get the crowd warmed up once again, the popular Franco got the victory here by hitting the F5 stunner to Birch to get the victory here to end what was successful first time showing here in the U.K for the Puerto Rican! After the match, Dave Birch got onto the mic, to say that he was sick of all the losses and needed to seek change to get his fledgling career back on track.

After the aforementioned Women’s match we then had 3rd on – Danny Hope taking on Arcadian. After a prolonged beat down of Arcadian by Hope, out of nowhere the man from Planet Bolton shocked The Sheriff with a springboard cutter from out of nowhere to get the shock win! Which was nice to see as Arcadian impressed quite a few onlookers on this weekend, including Joe and JP, whilst we are on the subject got us all talking about Babylon Zoo which Arcadian uses their hit ‘Spaceman’ as his theme – only at the wrestling can these conversations ever come up!.

Next up was announced as an ‘I Quit’ match between Sheikh El-Sham and Philip Michael (something to be probably explained on TV to this stipulation). An added stipulation to this match was if the Sheikh won, then Phil would have to join The Buyout, if Phil won – The Buyout would have to disband! This was very much a match to show off the Sheikh’s dominance as he beat down on Phil’s already injured right leg, constantly targeting this throughout the match and after around 15 minutes he eventually made Phil scream ‘I QUIT!’ after the pain was too much for the lad from Accrington – so with that said – A reluctant Phil now has to be The Buyout’s slave for the foreseeable future.

Joe Hendry vs Sugar was up next to settle out their squabble in the earlier interview segment. In another good storyline driven match, for which PCW are very good at nowadays, it would Joe Hendry who would get the victory with a roll-up and a hand on the rope similar to an MJF victory the night before – very much to the boos of the crowd in attendance. So with that win, it looks like Hendry is going to be moving into a feud with Matthew Brooks, expect the Sing-Off and many other singing related games between these masters of the voice.

Three matches to go and we come back with a return match from Show 1, with Jeff Cobb once again taking on Filthy Tom Lawlor in a similar type of match to that one, with both hitting hard strikes and throws, but on this occasion, it would be the man from Guam getting the victory as Jeff Cobb hit the ‘Tour of the Islands’ to give Lawlor a hard landing to get the three count in a hard-fought contest with both lads giving each other a deserved show of respect!

More big lads action with Iestyn Rees and BIG T trying to settle their differences. Even though this was short, it still had some great spots including Rees doing a wonderful dive to T on the outside and also managing to slam T in the centre of the ring. With Rees locking in the Alpha Lock to T and with him ready to tap, Sheikh El-Sham ran in to attack Rees with a Chair to cause the DQ. It now looks like this is the direction for the next couple of months in PCW with Rees taking on Sham – which I am certainly all for! Rees is certainly getting over well in this new babyface role.

Main event time now and your final match for the weekend was for the PCW Heavyweight Title with the Champion, Tel Banham taking on the No.1 Contender Joey Hayes. Luckily for Joey fans at the start, PCW Honcho Steven Fludder ordered the dismissal of crooked referee Mark Price, leading to Price being fired and then duly removed by security - an excellent way to end the weekend long storyline with him. You would think as well with all of the wrestling that had just passed that the crowd would be tired, but this match the whole audience engaged from the start. None more than the moment Tel Banham went to hit Joey with the belt only to be thwarted by Referee Des, and then hit with a JKO for the nearest of three counts that had the crowd on the edge of there seats.

Thankfully though for Joey, he was wise once again when Banham went to hit him with the belt again, only for Hayes to lock in the Cross Hayes on Tel to make him tap out onto the belt (great visual) to become PCW Heavyweight Champion to a great reception from the crowd.

There we have it then! A tour de force of a weekend, which a couple of thank you's go out to the young lad in the front row who didn't stop chanting all weekend and gave me a rest which was needed much on the Sunday shows. Also a thank you to Rick 'The Rock' (PCW Regular) with his help with some of the results and his thoughts on the weekend - go and check him out on Youtube (The Peoples WWE Channel)!

In closing, despite some low attendances, the outlook for PCW does look good from a storyline stand point with the main baddies looking a threat especially Banham, BIG T, Hendry and Sheikh El Sham. From the goody side Hayes, Rees, Sugar and Brooks look to be their dance partners with also Philip Michael looking on within the buyout - I for one am excited from a story standpoint of things!

I hope you have enjoyed reading this review of PCWs weekend in Blackpool - give them a check out online or when they are on The Fight Network. I will see you next time when I go to Leeds once again for Tidal Wrestling so until then - BYE!!

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