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Post by The BombTrax on Jun 28, 2016 6:32:51 GMT
One (1) Role Play Max
Final Role Play Deadline: Wednesday July 6th, 2016 @ 10:59 PM CST
Segment Deadline: Tuesday, July 5th, 2016 @ 11:59 PM CST
Opening Bout
Singles Match
Annabel Lee versus Rachel Ellsworth
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Post by Annabel Lee on Jul 7, 2016 2:42:17 GMT
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee
• • • Sweaty, breathing hard, more than a little sore. Annabel cleared the curtain that led into the back. She stood there just inside to catch her breath. She could feel herself shaking still. Just moments ago she had been in the middle of the ring with the referee holding her hand in the air. The fans had actually been standing up and applauding for her. She had smiled and waved and managed to contain herself as she walked up the aisle.
But now she was out of sight.
At first she didn’t know what to feel. Then it all hit at once, so hard she was sure that she actually swayed on her feet. Shock came first. It was closely followed by relief. Immediately after was a landslide of excitement and happiness. Was the overjoyed “SQUEE!” out loud or just in her head? She wasn’t sure.
She hurried through the backstage area as quickly as she could without it being considered running. She could feel the ache in her cheeks from how much she was smiling, but she couldn’t make herself stop. Her hands were curled into fists just to keep herself from… clapping? breaking into spontaneous jazz hands? Really she wasn’t quite sure, she just knew they would be doing something if she didn’t keep them in check.
When she rounded the corner and was sure there was no one around to see her, Annabel broke into a run. She could feel her high ponytail bouncing with every step. In her excitement she almost missed the next corner, skidding slightly in her wrestling boots and having to catch the wall to swing herself around in order to make the 90 degree turn.
Half way down the hall she spotted the person she was looking for. She managed to slow down just enough that she didn’t quite crash into him. Rather she threw her arms excitedly around him in a high-impact hug before even wondering if that was a boundary she shouldn’t cross with her new friend.
“Az, I did it!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “I did it!” Almost instantly upon looking up at him she realized that she might be overstepping his comfort level and quickly released him, taking a sheepish step back.
“You killed it out there!” He agreed as he looked at Annabel with admiration and vested interest, blushing slightly from the excited hug he had just received.
“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe I did it! I told myself that I was going to be happy no matter what as long as I gave it a hundred percent. And I did! I totally did. But I won!” It took every bit of effort she had left not to just jump up and down on the spot or throw her arms back around him for another hug.
“That's because you believe in yourself. Most just go in with doubt. Doesn't hurt that you stay hype as hell all the time.”
Hype as hell all the time? She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but it reminded her to check and see if he was using his swear jar app later. That was later though, something more important was on her mind right now. “Thank you so much for being here with me. It really means a lot since my Dad couldn’t come.” The never ending smile didn’t so much was waver as her eyes started to glitter with tears that she quickly attempted to blink back.
“Wouldn't have missed it for anything. You been lookin’ out for me, and I do the same for you.” Azarius moved in and gave her another hug, this time holding her tight so she knew his pride in her was authentic.
Annabel eagerly hugged him back. The force she could muster in an embrace was a little surprising given her size. “I know it’s super silly but I feel like we’ve been friends forever. I couldn't think of anyone else I would have rather had here except my Dad and even then I would have wanted both.” She looked up, but if he wasn’t letting go of the hug she wasn’t either. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”
Azarius shrugged within the hug. “Nah, I don't think so. We've been vibing right since day one.”
“Well Daddy says that sometimes I don’t have a filter. So I’m glad that my no-filter when I figured out Twitter made me a new friend. We’re friends, right? Is it too soon for that? I don’t even know. I think I’m rambling too. Daddy says I ramble when I get excited.” The red in her cheeks darkened a bit and it wasn’t just from being warm from her match anymore. She had been trying to avoid saying “Daddy” in public too, but she’d already slipped.
Az attempted to hide the amusement on his face, but a laugh escaped and gave him away. “We are friends. You're the best one I have, actually. Don't worry so much about the labels, you get worked up quick.”
“Well I didn’t get to make very many, really. Kinda hard with all the traveling with my Dad, y’know? I might be a little over-excited about it now.” She gave another sheepish sort of smile, but she felt entirely comfortable talking to him there in the middle of the hall in a hug that might have been becoming awkward.
“That's good, right? Makes it mean more.” Az finally released the hug, not wanting to make her feel uneasy, even if the likelihood of that happening was slim to none.
Annabel hardly seemed to notice any worry on his part though as she nodded a few times in answer to his question, “I think it does. Quality, not quantity. That’s what Dad says about everything. He’s usually right though.” After a moment another smile lit up her face. “I think this means I have to celebrate now!”
“Fuck yeah… I mean, yeah, we do!” Az caught himself before making her get her swear jar face going. “What you wanna do?”
She blushed a bit, twisting the toe of one boot back and forth on the ground a bit. “So this is going to sound really silly, but I’ve never really celebrated anything without it being just me and my Dad. I don’t know what we should do.” The admission was obviously a bit embarrassing for her.
The statement caught him slightly off guard. “Umm… what do you two do? I mean, I'm down for whatever. It's your win, your celebration.”
Annabel tried not to smile too much. Self-consciously she felt like she talked about her dad all the time. “Nothing crazy usually. I think he forgets I’m not a little girl anymore even if I’m still his little girl. The last thing we celebrated was when I finished wrestling school and he took me to my favorite ice cream place.”
“We can grab a cone if you want. Celebration doesn't have to always be alcohol for me. We can turn up with a sugar rush.” Az looked sincere, wanting to make sure her night was just as she wanted.
A bit of the blush faded away and she smiled again. “I think I’d like that. And since we’re in Louisiana… maybe we can find somewhere that has live jazz after?” Her brows lifted ever so slightly with hope at the end as she presented the idea.
Az thought about it and nodded his head in agreement. A smile quickly spread across his face. “Yeah, let's do that. I like that idea a lot.”
She bounced once on her toes but managed to keep from a full jump up and down on the spot. “Okay! Let me go get showered and changed real quick then! I’m pretty grody right now. Ew and I hugged you while I’m all sweaty. Sorry about that.”
He smirked a bit and brushed it off. “You’re good. I’ll walk you back to your locker room.” Slipping an arm casually around her shoulders, he started steering her in the proper direction. The little look on her face at having his arm around her didn’t escape him, making him smile a little more. “Strange place, strange people. Just lookin’ out for a friend.”
Annabel nodded sagely in agreement. “Of course. Strangers.”• • • Dear Diary,
I did it! I really did it! I told myself tons of times that it was okay if I didn't win. I tried to remember that I'm brand new and I can't be perfect right away. Even though I really really wanted to I tried to make sure I wasn't going to be disappointed in myself if it didn't happen. But it did! I won my first match ever!!!
Roy Baker was a tough guy to beat. He got me real good a few times and I've got the bruises to prove it. Badges of honor, Daddy always calls them. I've got lots of badges right now. I told Roy though, every time he knocked me down I was going to get back up, and I did. I told him I was a quick learner and I'd catch on if he didn't keep mixing it up, and I did!
I'll never forget that moment. I almost didn't hear the bell. I mean, I knew I had made the pin and I guess I heard the count, but when I stood up and the referee raised my hand, for just a second I didn't realize what was happening. Then I heard my name and the fans cheering. I saw them standing up. For me!!! I cried a little, but not too much.
And I'll never forget the look on Daddy's face when I stepped back through the front door either. He was right there waiting for me, waiting to pick me up and spin me around in a circle like he always did backstage after his matches. I know he would have been proud of me no matter what, but winning my very first match and getting to see the look in his eyes was the best thing ever.
Well, almost the best thing ever. He said it was looking like a good sunset and we should sit out in the backyard to watch. When I got out there he had a surprise victory party waiting for me. I cried again. Right there in front of Uncle Bobby and Uncle Joe and Uncle Ray. Lots of my “Locker Room Uncles” were there actually. He had the fire pit going and everything for Reese's Cup S'mores and for the first time ever I got to have a drink with my big Wrestling Family.
It was better than my high school graduation and better than my college graduation. I never minded that I didn't get to have big parties for those and just celebrated with Daddy and a few kids from my classes, but this was way better. I think it was even better than when I finished wrestling school. I was really proud of myself that day but out there in the back yard everyone else was proud of me too and I wasn't just Houston Carter's little girl. I belonged there for more than just because I would run to the cooler and grab beers for anyone who asked. I was a wrestler too.Always,
A • • • Another two weeks had gone by so fast that it barely felt to Annabel like she'd even blinked. So it was that she finished setting the GoPro her father had gotten her on top of her dresser to record while she made something of a high-energy, bouncy dervish around her bedroom. Given the perky young woman's tastes, it was hard to tell if the purple theme of the room was a recent decision or if it had been there since the time she was a child.
There were some well aged and slightly faded hand made butterfly decorations on the closet doors that were certainly keepsakes. The pieces of furniture all told their own stories. A small desk was tucked into one corner, painted white but not without some errant color marks from her sketching, its feet were sunk deep in the carpet like it had been in that same spot for years. Whatever child's bed had once graced the room had been replaced by a queen, though it was still home to a few too many pillows and more than one stuffed animal.
At the moment, it was also sporting a suitcase that laid open, half packed with items that were not so neatly placed. Annabel stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, as her eyes surveyed the little mess for something in particular. Then she realized that she had turned the camera on.
“So I was supposed'ta find my thing, wasn't I? I remember I said I was gonna. It feels like it's hardly been any time at all but I already gotta get back to Louisiana!” It was hardly a chore, if the smile on her face was any indication. “So here I am doing this last minute again while trying to remember to pack my toothbrush and my lucky scrunchie for the trip.”
As the thought hit her Annabel held up a finger to the camera, silently begging a moment before hurrying over to her desk and removing the scrunchie in question from the pencil holder she had wrapped it around. Once she had tucked it safely into the inside pocket of the suitcase on the bed she looked back to the camera with a relieved expression. “There, one more thing safe and sound. I have a list around here somewhere, I swear.”
She paused to look around, but didn't spot the paper she was after. Shrugging, she went on, “I made a list of ideas for my thing could be too. It's over there on the desk. I even started going through them all and and crossing out the ones that weren't gonna work and putting stars next to my favorites. Then the fabric store had a sale and I had to go get some.” Indeed there were several large swaths folded up on the sewing table that occupied the opposite corner from the writing desk. It was large with a dark finish and much newer than the other.
A half finished project was still resting in the machine. As of yet it was unrecognizable, but it did have leopard print trim. “Of course I kept up with my training too. This girl right here is up at 6 almost every morning for my run!” With a giggle she flexed, momentarily showing off the lean musculature of her bare arms. “And I did my personal best deadlift this week! Two hundred and five pounds! Boy could I feel that in my booty for days.” Any potential embarrassment over the fact she had just mentioned her booty was outweighed by the pride she felt.
“Then it was Fourth of July of course and I had to celebrate. I'm just like everybody else when it comes to holidays, we like bar-be-que and s'mores and fireworks around here! And I got to spend it with a friend, so that was really nice.” The blush was quick to spread across her face, but she kept smiling and tried to pretend it hadn't happened.
“But I keep getting side-tracked, don't I? I do that a lot, you'll have to forgive me.” Annabel sat down on the edge of the bed to keep herself from nervous pacing. While she continued to look at the camera her hands set to folding up the clothing going into the suitcase to keep them occupied. “Last Wicked I did what a lot of people didn't think I had a chance of doing. I beat Roy Baker even though he had a lot more experience than me and he was pretty much everyone's favorite to win the match.
“I hope that it showed everyone that I'm taking this opportunity I've been given very seriously and I'm here to be the best me I can be. I hope that maybe a few people started to see that I'm not going to be just a flash in the pan and that the name Annabel Lee is one they are going to continue to hear. I know lots of people say that, I do. I've spent most of my life watching wrestling and I heard it a whole bunch just to see it not be true most of the time. But that won't be the case with me.
“I know that I have to prove it again this week, and I'll have to prove it again two week after that. I gotta keep showing everyone and not just expect them to take my word for it. I gotta build that trust with the fans and the rest of the locker room and the people that own and run PAW. I'm just fine with that,” she gave a sage nod. “It'll be hard work but I'm not afraid of that.”
For a moment Annabel's eyes shifted up toward the corner on the wall that wasn't visible to the camera where her framed high school and college diplomas were hanging, along with the cords that indicated she had graduated magna cum laude from each. “If you want to prove you'll work hard in the ring,” her father had said, “prove you can work hard in school first.” So she had graduated sixth in her class despite the rigorous travel throughout high school. When she'd proven that to him, he'd said, “You proved you're willing to work hard. Now show me that you're willing to do anything to be a wrestler. Go to college and I'll pay for your school myself.” So she had done that as well.
Coming back into the moment from her reverie, her eyes returned to the camera. “I've got some hard work ahead of me this week too. I was super busy with college and then wrestling school until I signed with PAW, so missed all the big amazing things that Rachel Ellsworth must've done, but the program for the show says she's really something! Now, I think they embellished just a teensy bit when they called me a super starlet after just one match, which was way flattering and I'm very grateful for, but I'm sure they didn't have to embellish Miss Ellsworth's accomplishments any because she's not new like me.
“Even though her biography says she's never had any championships or real accomplishments, I know that a lot of people like to play it close to the vest and not brag about themselves. She's probably just being humble, which is really hard to find these days. You can bet I'm going to do my research into Phoenix Wrestling and find out just what earned her that impressive resume. I won't be going into this match unprepared.”
Having finished folding and tucking away some jeans, shorts, and of course socks, she reached the pile of purple and gold that was her ring gear. She had sewn it all herself, through a lot of trial and error, but it had been a labor of love. She couldn't help smiling just a little bit more as she folded up the shorts and top, tucking them into the spot she had saved for them in the suitcase. The tall boot covers were rolled up into a small, neat little bundle and set on top.
“It's a shame that someone started the rumor Rachel only came to PAW because of that weird V fellow too. It's not very nice that people are implying things about her and the new Assistant General Manager.” Annabel's face scrunched up a bit in thought before she spoke again, “She is a married woman, so why would she go to a place for someone who isn't her husband?”
Her ponytail swayed with a slight shake of her head. “Suggesting that their relationship is anything but professional or that either of them would try to use their positions improperly without knowing them isn't right. If there's any position they both want to get her into I'm sure it's the bottom! Rachel definitely seems to me like the sort that wants to work her way to the top the right way.”
Annabel's nose scrunched a little as she grew thoughtful once again. “I'm kinda curious why anyone would call her the 'Pocket-sized Dislocation Machine' though. Those would have to be really big pockets. We're both five-foot-six which is a pretty average height. She outweighs me by more than thirty pounds too, and I'm not all waify or anything.”
She shrugged and the expression faded from her face in the same instant. “But don't you worry, Rachel, it's totally okay to be a little bit fluffy. No body shaming here. You can be Slim Thick or Fit Thick or just plain Thick Thick if you want. You've got a husband that loves you for who you are, just like it should be.
“That 'Dislocation Machine' part is pretty intense though, huh? I did hear that she dislocated one guy's arm in the ring. That's really pretty awful. I dislocated my finger once and,” she made a grossed out kind of face and shook her head to get the images out, “Ick, no thank you. I feel bad for that... Chris Chaos I think it was? I hope he got better. That's the only one I heard about but she must have done it more if they're calling her a 'machine' right? It would be kind of pretentious otherwise.”
As Annabel flipped the suitcase shut, the checklist she had mentioned earlier was revealed where it had been hiding under the lid. A tiny, exasperated sound escaped as she leaned forward and snatched it up, along with the pen that was next to it. Several items that had made it into her bag were checked off in quick succession as she went down the column. When she was done she set it down on top of the suitcase where it would remain in plain sight.
She stood up from the bed and instead pulled the chair out from her sewing table, swiveling it into the middle of the room. When she took a seat again she was centered in the frame. After a moment of thought she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, fingers fidgeting at each other slightly.
“I know that I'm a little bit silly. I know that I'm not as 'battle hardened' as a lot other people in this business, even some who are just starting out like me. I know that I've got a lot of experience still to gain and not just in the wrestling ring. All that stuff makes some people think that I'm a push-over. Some people think that going up against me is going to be like hurting a puppy.
“He never came out and said it, but I can't help thinking that Roy Baker probably thought that, and look what happened to him. He couldn't keep this girl right here down. Just because I'm new doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing. Just because I'm young doesn't mean I don't pay attention. Just because I'm happy doesn't mean I'm afraid to get hit or to hit back.
“I was sitting backstage watching matches since before I even understood what was going on. I grew up in warehouses and gyms and arenas as well as on the road. I knew some of the ins and outs of the business before I knew how to add and subtract. I've seen where it leaves some people. I know what it takes. Wrestling is in my blood.
“My Dad calls me Princess but I promise you he never handed me a darn thing. I worked my booty off for years and years to get here. I didn't wait around for my dreams to come true, I made them come true. I may not be a 'Dislocation Machine' but I have given my blood, sweat, and tears. I'm gonna give lots more of all three too, I know that.
“And I'm okay with it. This is what I want, and if you really want something you're willing to do anything for it. I know I'm going to lose matches, everyone does, but I'm not going to let myself be defeated. I'm gonna win too, and I'm gonna be good and get even better, but I'm not going to forget who I am or where I came from.
“I probably won't be with PAW forever, but I'm gonna do my best to make sure that PAW remembers me even after I move on when that time comes. My Dad taught me that. It's not who you beat or who beat you, but how you chose to win or lose when it happened. It's not wins and losses or championships. Who you choose to be, the legacy you leave, that's what really makes you.
“I know who I choose to be. I know what's gonna make me. When we step into the ring, I sure hope Rachel knows what's gonna make her. If she doesn't, she's not gonna have a legacy to leave, she'll just be an itty bitty part of mine, a little fun fact for trivia night years from now. Annabel facts are always fun, but I'm gonna be more than a trivia question. I promise.”
Annabel pushed up from the chair with a small but determined smile. Her body blocked out the frame eventually as she closed in on where the camera was on her dresser. It was almost enough to fade to black before she hit the stop button.• • •
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee |
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Post by Atomic on Jul 7, 2016 3:42:04 GMT
"...you thought this through, right?"It's not often that Richard Faulkner, known by some as the Walking Hate Crime, feels compelled to question his wife on anything. While she's always possessed a certain... quirky nature to her, if he can be so understated, he never thought about doubting her. She wanted to repurpose a room in their house? He'd just nod. She wanted to construct some kind of strange structure on their property with the kinds of non-euclidian geometry that would please the Great Old Ones? Whatever. Any whim that comes to her mind is welcomed, no matter how mundane or fantastical. Sometimes though, Richard has to be the responsible one--a tall task for a man with a clinical case of apathy--and poke and prod at the fractured logic behind one of her choices. This particular instance? It's a strange one, he can't help but think. After all, it's not the what she's doing that he finds himself questioning. After all, wrestling was a common bond of theirs. While they were never active and competing at the same time, it was something as everyday and ordinary to them as your average nine-to-five. The inherent risk of the sport is something he could casually brush off. On this instance? It's more the where that has him raising an eyebrow. Pure Amusement Wrestling. PAW. (He sees what they did there.) The setting is amusing, as the name implies, but that is an afterthought. The concern, minute as it may be, is centered upon his wife's...questionable mental faculties, if he was being politically correct. Or the fact that she happens to be as sane as a shithouse rat tripping off of shrooms and ecstasy, if he's being blunt. Oh, he knows people will roll their eyes at that fact. After all, she's always been so... jovial in the public eye, sporting a wide-eyed gaze and a perpetual grin as she jauntily bounces through the world like a quarter-dollar super ball. There were a few instances of menace, but they are easily ignored as mere quips from a strange, lovable girl. Nothing to fear, nothing to even remotely worry about; Rachel Faulkner, or Ellsworth when the cameras are on, is just another cutesy ball of chaotic energy that the entire world can enjoy. She'll fit in wonderfully with all of the smiles and brightness of this place. To those that think that, well, there's only one thought that comes to mind. Ignorance is bliss right up until it's ripped away by the gibbering demons that call the Atomic Redhead's mind home. "Yep." Certainty's right there front and center in her tone as she eyes the gates in front of her. The colors of the streamers whipping about merrily in the breeze are as bright as the orange-red hair that has become her trademark... well, alongside of other things. Far less pleasant things, in some cases Things like how willing she is to get beneath someone else's skin no matter the legality of her methods, or how she's as kind as a rabid wolverine once the bell rings--and that's ignoring the fondness she has for injuring people that irritate her or try to overlook her on account of her size. Behind that cocksure smile, bright and welcoming, lurks the sort of things that most people would flinch away from her over if only they knew--or maybe they'd try to throw her behind bars in a custom-made straightjacket. Who knows? Hers is not to question why. Not when her presence is requested by a dear, nameless (well, in the traditional sense of the word) personal friend. "I know what I'm going into," she offers her husband with a smile that's reassuring and comforting and all the things it's supposed to be. That light even reaches her eyes, a special feat that few have been able to accomplish. A quick glance to ensure that they're alone before she leans over, her voice dropping to a low murmur. Keeping up the masquerade is as important as it'd be in a game of Vampire, and such. "It ain't like I'm not used to things not bein' so... solid around the edges. I can navigate this shit better'n damn near anyone else, and you know that. So does Lincoln."While her words are intended to comfort, her husband can't help but feel anything but that single, solitary thing. It's not an issue of trust, as he certainly knows that she's capable. It's more a matter of what the environment inherently encourages. There's a certain violence that comes with wrestling, which she is all too ready to give herself into, but the park all but turns it into a game, something so casual that it was all too easy to get lost in. Any other company or setting, he probably wouldn't have thought much of it. This, though? This is something that he knows is worth questioning, even if he can have faith in her word. As close as she is, she can hear him take a deep breath of consideration, his mind briefly teetering between calling her on her claims and letting it go before he's reaching up and loosely ruffling the dye-stained locks that fall from the crown of her head. "...alright, alright," he begins, a faint roll of his eyes following. His arm loops itself around her shoulders and hauls her in close, his nose burying itself in the mussed-up nest he's created a mere handful of seconds before. "If you wanna play? Go ahead and play. You start turning into a Bret Easton Ellis book? I'm pulling your card.""Either that or you're gonna wind up joinin' me." Leaning up, she presses her lips to his cheek--the rough stubble bringing the world into sweet and colorful focus, same as always. "We both know you're as fond of fuckin' other people up as I am, so can that self-control shit. This'll be a good fit for me. Just... call it a hunch."Her head turns away from him to regard those gates again. Before her, the shadows she and her husband cast stretch out into the sunlight, seeming darker than they really are thanks to the light that surrounds them. It isn't the heat that makes them waver and distort, almost rippling like the surface of a pond to the Atomic Redhead's green-gold eyes as she watches them bend and move. It's her mind reaching out to embrace the wibbly-wobbly reality that she's walking into with her eyes wide open. So what if this particular abyss clad in bright colors and amusement rides gazes back? It's not like it's going to see anything that other horrors haven't.
Trust me, darlin'... your starry eyes will N͇̣̟̣̯̳͒̏̅E̥V̻͚̙̯̭̟̥E̝̳̞͓R͊̆̈́̽ͯ make us even.
August 5th, 2015
Excerpt from learn2lovethebomb.blogspot.com Well well well... ain't this a bitch.
Not my opponent for my debut-- I mean, from what I can see, Annabel Lee's a nice girl. A real nice girl. The genuine article, not one of those phonies that's Pollyanna (Or Pauly-anna, depending on the gender I guess? Though now I wanna watch Son in Law. How I miss the days when Pauly Shore was amusin' instead of irritatin'!) when everybody's watchin', but is really a self-servin' egomaniac of a hypocrite that'd, say... oh, I dunno. Take advantage of other people, make rape jokes, lie about said rape jokes and other things they've said the moment that it becomes an inconvenience, and run like a little bitch from anyone that doesn't kiss their ass just right. And my, that was awfully specific, wasn't it? It's like I had someone specific in mind when I talked about that certain cowardly deadbeat dad that's got the wool over more eyes than there ought to be or somethin'. Oopsie daisy, I better watch myself lest I get subtweeted at from a Twitter account that I'm blocked from readin' because waaaaah, I dared to be critical of them instead of kissin' their self-righteous, fake as a Chinese knock-off ass!
Pffffffff.
Jesus Christ, how the fuck is 'Fearful' Lex Collins so passive-aggressive for so many hours of his day, every day? That was tirin' as shit, and I was only at it for a few minutes!
(And stop snortlaughin', Lincoln. Shit's not cute when you do it. It's kinda creepy, actually, and I don't mean in that way that's vaguely sexy. =IIIII)
Anyway, before I wandered off on that tangent there...what I was talkin' about bein' a bitch is bein' back on this thing again. It took me around five minutes or so to remember what the password hint was referrin' to, and probably another five after that tryin' to learn the new control panel. Or maybe it wasn't new, and I just didn't remember what to do? I don't know, this internet bloggin' shit's not like ridin' a bike. Not like wrestlin' is, and God damn have I missed it. Trainin' with Richie's been great and all, but there's nothin' like the real deal--and that's not just because there's only so far that I'm willin' to bend my personal dick dealer, either. It's just... there's no way to replicate that high of going out in front of a crowd and competin', y'know? Nothin' quite like makin' someone tap out in the middle of the ring after the challenge of gettin' someone twisted up just right. The last time I was active was back in J-Reb's APW, with my last match in active competition bein'... almost a year ago, now? Yeah. Ahh, rememberin' the way I made that feminine, Otaku version of Raabtard tap out in the middle of the ring when she swore she'd never tap out to anyone--that's a smile-maker of a memory right there. I still remember the popping sound her fingers made as I wrenched them out of socket one by one by one.
...by one, if we're bein' technical.
(And then I kinda' did her thumb, too.)
Oh, don't give me that look, Internet. It would've been cruel of me not to. I mean, she was so concerned with aesthetics and shit. I had to make sure everything matched! Though there was the whole thing about her other hand not havin' any joints dislocated, so the swelling wouldn't have matched up. Maybe I should've... okay, Rachel Anne. Stahp it. You need to stop lettin' your mind wander all over the Gorram place. Your opponent deserves better. I mean, she's... oh knock off the third person shit, woman. Are you sufferin' from promo rust, too?! Christ on a cracker.
Trying this again.
*A-HEM*
You remind me a lot of someone I know, Annabel Lee... and that's a compliment, a very high one considering how when I usually say that? It's followed by insults, by comparisons to someone like Chrissy-Boy Chaos whose ignorance was once legendarily rivaled by the amount of grease in his hair. This is different, though. You're different, and it's kind of put me into a sticky wicket because of how strong your resemblance is to someone that I care for a great deal. One of the few people I'd do anything for without any questions at all beyond askin' for specifics, as a matter of fact... and the one that's made this something of a problem for me? One of the few people that I'd go out of my way to avoid hurting.
Surely you can see the conflict of interest here.
Know why you make me feel that way, kid? Because what I see in your nigh-endless enthusiasm and the gigantic stars in your eyes, when I hear what you're saying about wanting to make your parents proud and how you're so in love with wrestling and getting to live your dream... I close my eyes and I imagine big, blond curls instead of dark hair in a ponytail. My mind manufactures that faint Southern accent that you don't have, gives you absolutely arcane baking abilities that it's entirely possible you've got--I can't know for sure from this side of the computer, theoretically speaking--and the kind of kick that's taken down men twice her size on more than one occasion. I look at you and see a bright future that you haven't had the chance to realize yet, but that's right there for the taking... Jesus Christ, you're the spiritual splittin' image of my cousin, and I know that anyone that knows Nat is gonna agree with me. And God damn it all, I don't want to be the one that yanks the stars out of your eyes and leaves your optimism blind. I really, really don't--but let's be real with ourselves here. I don't really have a choice in the matter.
Not that wouldn't do you more harm than it would good.
Say I show you that mercy, let you get the bump of winning over me. Say I spare you and hold back and you get the win. What're you gonna do when you get in the ring with someone that won't? It'll be all the harder for you to take because the most dangerous thing in this business--well, beyond your garden variety morons--isn't viciousness, or taking excessive amounts of risk or any of that shit. The most dangerous thing in professional wrestling is complacency, and me givin' you the excuse to even begin to develop it would be about the same thing as signin' your death warrant. You're not gonna improve if you're not pushed, if you're not tested--if you don't have a choice in the matter but to find where your limits are, then figure out how to dig deeper to exceed them. Hopes and dreams don't strengthen the soul anywhere near as much as going through Hell and coming out whole on the other side.
Somethin' somethin' Chuck Palahniuk quote about sufferin' being what polishes the rough rocks of our souls to make them bright.
(Nero probably knows what I'm talkin' about. She seems like the well-read type.)
But I guess that's where I come in when it comes to you, huh? That gravel meant to rough you up with my sharp edges, of which there are plenty. There's enough that I sometimes slice myself open on'em, and I'm not sayin' that to be an edgelord or anything. I'd usually relish the idea of bein' someone's personal reckoning, but... tryin' to tell myself that this is for your own good rings kinda' hollow, y'know? Because it's not so much for your own good that I'm gonna go out there and put you through Hell so much as it is for my own, and I'm not gonna do you the disservice of sayin' otherwise. This is a selfish business no matter how saintly you are, and I'm no saint. I mean, there's a reason I've been compared to kitsune in the past--but more tellingly, how many people out there that call me the Devil without being entirely facetious about it. And as much as I'm gonna feel like Cruella DeVille?
I'm gonna treat you no differently than I would anyone else.
Mm, I get the feeling your parents were Edgar Allen Poe fans--or maybe they weren't. Maybe they never read the poem you're named after, but just saw the name and fell in love with it. I can't blame'em, really. It does have a beautiful flow to it, a musical quality almost... and you've got a song in your heart of hearts, don't you? Because right now, you're living the dream. But there's a problem with dreams, one that you're gonna find yourself rammin' square into the moment that the bell rings and you find yourself across from the Atomic Redhead herself.
Dreams end.
Remember to learn to love the bomb, kids~! ♥
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