#and john took him to see wrestling matches

[shallowseeker]

Added to this post.

Felt like it was important. Marvelous Marvin was a champion boxer during Dean's childhood (mid- to late 80s)!!!

Marvelous Marvin is also a nod to a Marvelous Marvin Hagler, a middleweight boxing champion and a callback to Dean's psychosexual crush and wrestling interests in Beyond the Mat. As far as angels go, Cas is something of a middleweight champion--not a "heavyweight" archangel, but not a lower-ranking angel either. Ergo, Marvin is also a stand-in for Silvia's unseen love rival.

FYI, this also strengthens my feeling that Dean and Cas may have bought Marvin together for Jack. Cas, because it's his style to buy soft, fluffy things for his loved ones (Claire & Grumpy Cat) and Dean, because he would've kinda wanted it too for the reference to a beloved boxing figure. (Dean was at least along for the ride, and he found it hilarious.)

Cas & Dean also bought Grumpy Cat together, after all. They went to the mall together. Cas is Grumpy Cat, and Claire is also Grumpy Cat. Cas's also Marvin, and Jack is also Marvin (and Dean can be Marvin too, if you like).

I also feel like Marvelous Marvin is a relatively new item in the household, or else we'd have seen it next to the photo of Kelly, combined with Kelly's laptop message, or on Jack's bed. There's a good chance it's also a birthday gift, like Grumpy Cat was.

BONUS: There are red boxing gloves in the Dean-Cave! AU Bobby boxes with Jack in 14x01. Jack dresses like Rocky Bilboa when he's training as a human! (It's the gray sweatsuit of the infamous Gonna Fly Now running scene!)

Dean's the wrestler. Jack's the boxer. I love it.

(Cas gets a cinematic boxing scene too in Purgatory, complete with slow-mo uppercuts. It's right before they get to the rift. Actually, a lot of snippets in season 8 are boxing-like for Cas, such as when he's hard to knock down in the warehouse when they try to save Samandriel. Or even as early as his season 4 fight with Uriel. In several scripts, like Good Intentions, Cas is referred to as "bobbing and weaving," which is a fighting phrase that derives from boxing.)

Anyway, I was delighted to notice these motifs.

ADDENDUM: Realistically, I think Jack may have been present when they bought the bear, and it may have been Dean who originally told the cashier that the bear was, "for his stepson, Ronald," which is an ominous reference to James "Jimmy" Stewart's stepson, Ronald McLean who was famously killed in Vietnam as a Marine.

[bunny-jpeg]

wrestling au 🤼 - starring task force 141!

simon 'ghost' riley -

oh, big scary ghost. the masked heel of the little association he was apart of. he took in the sounds of people's booing, and he fought without much remorse. he tried not to make it look too real, by that he meant not messing up his opponent too much. the last thing he wanted was to get his ear talked off by upper management. there was a routine to follow, even if it ended in bruising, simon still had to follow it. or else everything could be thrown off. his hulking size made him a wall of an opponent, and the story lines where he won were always a crowd favourite. he loved being the big baddie of the ring, he loved to be the monster they booed at. because no matter how loud they got, simon would always walk away with the title belt.

he fucked like an animal though. you were the daughter of his trainer and boy did he love to take you for a spin after he got nice and sweaty. when your father was in his office cashing the cheque for the monthly payment for his services, simon was servicing something else. your back on the wooden bench of the men's locker room. simon's cock splitting you. he used his size to his advantage, while he couldn't do too much damage in the ring. you sure as hell could take a sexual beating. the numerous amount of times, simon had you twisted up as he fucked you. in the locker room, in the back of his car, even that time over your father's desk when he had left early. you were good stress relief and even when the crowd booed him, you were in the back happily cheering for your big, beefy lover.

john price -

face turned heel, a seasoned veteran with the aches and pains to prove it. his knees cracked if he tried to go to low and it usually takes him an extra few days to recover from it all. when he was clean shaven and younger, he was the pretty boy from liverpool. now in the twilight years of his career, he loved to be big, bad, price. he was the kind to play 'dirty', the sort of wrestler to throw last ditch effort tricks to win the match. he got his fists bloodied. he laughed when the crowd booed him, he basked in the feeling of being the worst of the worst. alongside his right-hand man ghost, they were destined to take the title from the pretty faced good guys. he looked good in the books and the 'shorts'. anyone close enough to the ring could see price's bulge. it was the type of be circulated on social media. he was hairy, a little different than the normally smooth wrestler. he smoked on stage and antagonized the audience. he was a hefty man who loved to get his opponents down on the mat.

but even at his age, he likes to sink his teeth into the competition. and what's better than the fresh face they got in the women's division. oh, you look amazing under him. price got into the ring with you a few times, the he had you bent in certain was that made you blush. you almost moaned when he had you basically in a ball with his barely covered crotch up against your ass. he even barked the words, "guess it's time for me to find a missus! what do you think? could our new starlet be the wife of the big, bad price?" which only earned hollering from the crowd. he liked it rough outside the ring, when he had you pushed into storage closets. when he got to tear your underwear off of you and sink into his prize. that was his cunt, don't you forget. if he sees you talking to another male wrestler, then there would be hell to pay. you better pray that the pill works, or you'll be in the stands a lot sooner than you expected with price's hefty baby in your arms.

john 'soap' mactavish -

face, face, face! but the face you hate to love! his story lines are always so good. he was cocky, loud, his laughter was like a bark when he got the microphone. he was the good boy from glasgow, even had saint andrew's cross across the ass of his shorts. he was the most flexible, often having the heels of the organization bend him in ways that most others couldn't. while he wasn't the broadest (he was still fairly big), he made up for it in endurance. one time he was asked how he could keep up for so long even if he was bloodied and bruised, he simply laughed and said, "well, ya bed enough bonnies. you can keep goin' all day and all night with the likes of these guys. sadly, the girls tap out before i'm finished." he felt like he teetered between being a heel and a face, he only became more cocky when he won the title from price. when he got the older man on the mats. it was only right for a face to have the title, for a heel to have it was wrong. but yet, there was a cockiness to him. even was he stripped price of the belt and gave the shiny metal a heated kiss. the man from the highlands was on top!

but of course the man on top loves to have his woman on top. and who exactly was the lovely woman to be with mister mactavish? well, it was the ceo's daughter of course! and the stamina he had in the ring bled into your experiences with him in the bedroom. johnny was a cervix bruiser, the kind where you'd feel it for days afterwards. when you sat at lunch with your father, you'd wince and pray that no pained expression crossed your face. like price, johnny was a breeder. with a stamina like a rabbit, of course he was shooting loads into you on almost a daily basis. you'd lie to your father about you whereabouts, you said you were at the library studying for your upcoming final. meanwhile johnny was pouring shots of liquor down your throat then messing up your pretty face with his cum as you sucked him off behind the building. insatiable, with the title around his waist only making it worse. he had the title in his hands and the ceo's daughter's lips around his throbbing cock. but don't worry, johnny isn't the type to tap and leave. no, no, finishing in you is a promise. a promise that you'll be mrs. mactavish very soon. after all, his kids weren't going to have your father's last name.

kyle 'gaz' garrick -

a very clearly a face. his gimmick is the sweetheart next door who can handle himself in the ring. a real knight in shining armor, it was hard when the story called for his defeat. but, in the end he always came back to secure his title. there was a bravado to him, and a real charmer. while some had a face that others wanted to hit, no one wanted to mess up that perfection that was kyle garrick. he did play it up a little bit, sauntering as he entered the ring, letting the crowd get excited for what was to come. he had more than a few fans, but he was always respectful. a real gentleman. he even had a trick where he'd give roses to female fans as he walked towards the ring. his smile gleaming under the bright lights.

of course, the sweetheart of the ring has the perfect love story. the woman who had been with him since his early days. while his fellow wrestlers got into all sorts of trouble, he enjoyed the company of his dear wife. but, don't get it wrong, your sex life was not boring. while price was screwing newbies, kyle was on his knees in the bathroom of the pub you all went to after the match. your back up against the sink of the single stall washroom. your pants around your knees and his large hands on your thighs. his tongue lapping at your pussy. your sweet, muffled moans kept kyle wanting more. his cock throbbed in his jeans, the rush of the match was still abuzz in his system. he loved the taste of his wife, how could he not? even after all these years together, tasting you was like biting into a ripe apple at the peak of its season. the kind of fruit that had a price tag that would make the average person shudder. you were the apple of his eye and the love of his life. of course he'd worship you. there was still an electricity between you two, a fire that couldn't be tamed. if he gave a rose to a fan as part of his gimmick, then you got a dozen. if roses made you allergies flare up, then he'd give you fake ones. so they'd never wilt, like his love for you.

[adriswrld]

His Dangerous Wife » LA Knight

plot: la knight's wife comes to even the odds against the judgement day

pairings: wrestler! reader x la knight

warnings: none tbh just fluff

a/n: there isn't enough la knight stuff on here and that makes me sad :(( wrestling last name is kingley bc i love it

It was quite chaotic backstage, making it almost impossible for Y/N to locate her husband. But she found him after a few minutes of searching. He stood with John Cena who was also his tag partner for Fastlane. Y/N didn't have a match, seeing as she was literally returning from an ankle injury that happened at SummerSlam when she lost her championship to Iyo Sky. Y/N Kingley was a crowd favorite, as was her husband LA Knight, but not many people knew they were married, or even together. They lived a very private life so it made sense.

Tonight, she was set to return to help her husband even the odds against the Judgement Day which sparked a future fued between herself and Rhea Ripley. Though LA Knight didn't know of this. "Darling, do you know where Izzy is? I can't find her." Y/N asks, grabbing his attention. Izzy was her best friend, the woman also known as Azalea Evans, the younger sister of Chris Evans and one of the best women's wrestlers. She was also engaged to Rhea Ripley. He furrowed his brows, shaking his head, "Nah, but she should be somewhere around here. Probably with Rhea."

"I think I seen her talking to Cody in catering earlier," John adds. Y/N smiled gratefully, "Thank you. I will see you two later, alright? Good luck with the match darling." She pressed a quick peck on his cheek before quickly making her way towards catering, finding Azalea indeed with Cody. Y/N took a seat at their table, "one thing I do not miss about being back is getting lost backstage all the time." Azalea chuckles at her complaint, "honestly, I'm pretty much used to it."

"You would think because I've been wrestling for 20 years that I would be used to this, but I am definitely not." Y/N mumbled, picking up a brownie from Izzy's plate. Izzy chuckled before glancing at the television where LA Knight's match with Jimmy Uso was coming up. Cody cleared his throat, "so, how do we feel about Jade signing with WWE?" Izzy and Y/N were former AEW wrestlers so they knew Jade quite well. Though they had actually never faced Jade yet. They knew how she felt with all the top tier treatment because that's how they were treated when signing with AEW having been originally WWE stars.

"I'm really excited about it actually. I'm super happy for her. I can't wait to face her." Y/N said, she was always happy for any of the wrestlers who got signed to other companies. Izzy nods in agreement, "Me too. She actually called me after she signed so I'm really excited for her. We're supposed to train together soon." Cody nods with a smile, "I feel the same way. I'm excited to see what she can do here."

"His match is starting so we should head to the gorilla." Izzy stood up, the three of them left towards the gorilla where the Judgement Day and Jey Uso were at. Izzy was quick to greet Rhea whilst Y/N was watching the monitors. LA Knight obviously wins, but then Judgement Day comes out, standing on the ring apron, leaving Knight and Cena outnumbered. Jey Uso was the first to come out, sliding in the ring though they were still very outnumbered. Cody's music hit, he was quick to come out.

Rhea jumps on the apron next to her boys, signaling that they weren't gonna back down. That's when Y/N's music hit. The crowd went crazy, obviously not expecting her to show up at all, let alone for a situation such as this. "It's Y/N Kingley! She's back! What a surprise!" Michael Cole' expressed. Y/N strutted out, Rhea's face dropped at the sight of her. Meanwhile, her husband was in disbelief, a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Rhea is in disbelief! Y/N has expressed her frustration with the Judgement Days attempts to recruit her best friend Azalea Evans!" Corey Graves explains.

"That and the fact that the Judgement Day is targeting her husband LA Knight," Cole points out. "Her husband?! She's married?!" Cody Rhodes and John Cena sat on the middle rope for Y/N to step through, the Judgement Day seemingly conflicted now. She walks past her shocked husband to come face to face with Rhea, a grin on her lips. "Still wanna fight?"

The boys behind her grin as Rhea makes the guys stand down, claiming it wasn't worth it. Paul Heyman takes Solo's hand, signaling him to fall back. Unfortunately for them, Y/N wasn't a patient person. She threw the first hand, knocking Rhea off the apron, the boys are quick to join in the brawl. She grinned, leaning against the rope as Cody and Jey Uso both do separate dives out the ring, knocking down the Judgement Day and Jimmy.

Rhea drags Y/N out of the ring, going back in forth with her as Solo stepped in the ring with John. Y/N was quick to fight off Rhea, throwing her into Dom as LA Knight took care of Solo. LA hits JD with a BFT, then Jey hits him with a super kick before Cena performs a five knuckle shuffle. Y/N slides in the ring as Cena continues to perform an AA on JD. Cody whips off his belt throwing it into the crowd before hitting JD with a crossrhodes.

The boys turn to her, basically offering up JD if she wanted a go at him. She laughs, shaking her head but they insisted. "Come on! It can't hurt! Well not for you at least." Cody says. Y/N chuckled, giving in the crowd cheers. LA Knight offers his hand, she takes it, using it to jump off the rope and perform a clean moonsault onto JD. "And a perfectly done moonsault from Kingley!"

"Yeahh!" LA Knight cheered, taking her hand and pulling his wife up. "That was fun!" She cheered wistfully, high fiving Jey, Cody, and Cena as LA Knight kept a hand on her waist. The crowd cheered as Cody raised Y/N's hand proudly, "Our wonderful savior!"

LA pulled her closer so she could hear better, "You didn't tell me you were coming out." Y/N chuckled, "cause it was a surprise darling. Did it surprise you love?" He laughs lightly, nodding like it was obvious, and it was. "Surprised me so much I could kiss you right about now." He jokes, also being partially serious because he really wished he could kiss her.

She shrugged lightly, "you can kiss me, I don't mi-" she was cut off by his lips pressed against hers and very loud cheering from the fans. He didn't waste a second kissing her, not caring about the thousands of fans watching. She chuckles softly pulling away, quick to remind him that they were still in public. "Come on, let's close up." Y/N climbs the top rope, doing her normal taunt as LA Knight, Jey Uso, Cody, and Cena all followed behind her.

Shaun was quick to drag her into the locker room the second the show was over. Not even giving her a chance to talk as he showered her with kisses. "Shouldn't we go to the hotel first?" She chuckles, pulling away. "What? Scared of a little locker room sex, doll?" He teased, rubbing her sides as he held back to urge to tear her clothes off.

Y/N sucked in a breath, "fuck, you know what that name does to me." He smirked, pressing a kiss to her neck as she pushed him towards the showers. "I should save your ass more often if this is the reward I get in return."

"Yeah."

[draco-after-dark]

Is there any creature/critter that feral got injured to?

And

Did feral get his wings from when he turned into rock feral? Cause he has rip parts in his wings just like your rock troll wings design.

in your drawing of feral or should I say redesign of rock feral (the one where he has black skin w/ red eyes and his red & white glow pattern) 🤔ᴴᴹᴹ that gives me a hint that feral got his wings due to the fact that the guitar was still missing 1 or 2 strings when he got transformed into rock feral

Is there any creature/critter that feral got injured to?

I mean all of his scars are from run ins with all different types of critters. Except for two major ones. He got better at dealing with critters of all sizes over the years so most of the scars are pretty old by the time he reunites with his brothers.

Although it your asking if I specifically have him get injured by a critter in my fic you will just have to wait and see.

Did feral get his wings from when he turned into rock feral? Cause he has rip parts in his wings just like your rock troll wings design.

I mean the rips themself were just a stylistic choice and the fact he didn't know how to fly when he first got his wings. So he had to figure that out for himself. Resulted in a few accidents.

Rock Feral does get the wings before regular Feral. A byproduct of the corrupted Rock transformation. Mainly based on the idea that Rock trolls were originally supposed to have wings but then that idea got scrapped. Plus it made the most sense story wise for that to be when he receives his wings with what I already have planned event wise.

That and I find the idea of the entire Rock troll society being terrified of Branch's older brother hilarious. Especially when the brothers reconcile and they just see JD as their goofy older brother. He's just a weirdo but they get used to it pretty quickly so their all just like.

"Johnny boy? Naw, he's chill. Just don't challenge him to an arm wrestling match. You won't win. Not even Viva could beat him and she's stronger then me!"

"Yeah, I used to be terrified of John but then one thing lead to another and it turns out he was just as scared of me. Now we're unstoppable when he work together."

"I always knew it was John Dory from the beginning. Took the others awhile to figure it all out but now were closer then I ever dreamed we could have been." "JD's actually taught me a lot of new things. It's nice getting to spend time with him after all these years. I never thought we would be so similar. Don't tell him I said that or he'll never leave me alone."

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The supernatural episode where John returns broke me when John tells Sam that he is proud of him, like Sam always had that unresolved conflict with his father, Dean's unresolved conflict was having dinner with the whole family together. What would be the Winchester sister's conflict with John? How would that interaction occur in that chapter?

I think the main reason the little sister would have unresolved conflict would be because she doesn’t remember John very much. Like she has memories of him and she remembers how much she loved him, but whenever Sam or Dean mention him he just always seems bad (Dean talking about how he got left at a boys home, or Sam making that crack about cheap beer being the reason John took them to wrestling matches). I think she would be conflicted between her feeling for him and what she knows about him. When he comes back and apologizes and she can see just how much he loves them (even though he wasn’t always able to do right by them), she’d finally be able to understand him, and that would be what she always wanted.

There are so many things that she wishes she could’ve done with him though—things a girl is supposed to do with her dad—but they just don’t have time for them all. However, they do share a moment. Sam says that he doesn’t want the little sister to have to see John go, so John decides to put her to bed one last time. He goes to her room and for a while he just looks at it. She asks him why, and he just smiles and says—

“I always wanted you to have your own room. You didn’t deserve those motels—none of you kids did.”

He wanders around for a minute before he sees a record player by her bed. He puts in the first record he finds and starts it up. She just watches him, not sure what he’s doing, until he reaches out his hand and says,

“May I have this dance?”

And she laughs and grabs his hand, and they dance around for a minute before she asks—

“What’s this for?”

“Every daddy-daughter dance I’ve missed,” John says.

He twirls her around for a few minutes until the song ends, and then he turns the record player off and tucks her into bed.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she says, and now she’s almost crying.

“Hey,” John soothes. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart.” And she smiles, because he said it just like Dean does. “Let’s just be glad we got today, ok?”

[should-know-better]

The Best Is Yet To Come Lyric Theory

As Miles has had dinner this week with both Big Lew and Romeo (Jay Forrester for anyone who doesn't know) I took another look at the The Best is Yet To Come lyrics. Here's my theory about what the song means. Warning - it’s long!

On first listen, this comes across as a song about Miles looking forward to having a night out with friends, having drinks and dancing, 'all these nights having fun, you and I chasing round the sun.' In fact, Miles alludes to this in the John Kennedy interview.

But who is 'you?' Is he talking to himself? A close friend? Lover? Mother? God?

'Only YOU know what I get up to on my own, I'm like a freak show double denim, walking slow'

By describing himself as a 'freak show' he’s suggesting that he’s someone others look at for entertainment (which in his career he is) though the meaning can be deeper than this.

Freak Shows in the 19th century were events that were put on to show off people who had abnormal developments, they showcased the bizarre, the ludicrous and the unbelievable, dehumanising the people who appeared in them. [It might be worth noting that this also ties back to the circus - a theme that Alex often refers to].

The freak shows made a great deal of money for the Showmen that ran them - so, this could be a dig at the record industry.

Interestingly, I discovered there is a 2017 film called 'Freak Show'. I have no idea if Miles has seen this, but look at the synopsis - remind you of anyone?

It also seems too much of a coincidence that there is 'Freakshow Wrestling,' which Miles is likely to have seen. The website says you can, 'witness the most outrageous, high flying, gut punching, body slamming matches.'

These days, Wikipedia tells us, 'freak' can playfully refer to an enthusiast or obsessive person, who has eccentric behaviour different from the societal norms. So, multiple meanings from two little words in Miles' description himself but safe to say, he sees himself as 'different'.

'Double denim' is an outfit that Miles is often seen wearing, but 'walking slow' doesn't sound like him - usually so energetic. It could mean that he's not getting to where he wants to be as quickly as he wants (in life or otherwise).

'Where the secret weekday ghosts' - to me, this suggests that he has a secret throughout the week (or in his public persona) and during this night out, he can forget about / ignore that as he’s with someone he trusts. He can be himself.

'Only the streetlights guide US home' - this refers to the night time, and this is when the 'real' person or truth is revealed, as has been shown in many other song lyrics. Note, how he's referring to 'us.' They are in the 'real' situation too.

'Oh, it's the big show, With me, Big Lew and Romeo.'

Again, a double meaning. The big show can refer to everyone showing up for the night out (backed up by the use of his friends' names) but can also it might be a reference to a big gig or a big night out, or putting on a show (hiding the real him).

'All these nights having fun, You and I chasing round the sun.'

From what has been deduced so far, 'You and I' doesn't seem to fit with him referring to himself throughout this. As it's about a night out, it also doesn't seem that he's referring to his Mother or God. So we are left with it referring to a close friend or a lover (or both).

'Chasing round the sun,' might be a subtle dig at the paps - i.e. they have to be careful not to be seen by The Sun newspaper.

According to the Word Mastery channel on You Tube, 'chasing the sun' means several things: - that you are in a constant pursuit, one that is endless and challenging - it describes a person looking who is looking for new experiences, opportunities or a better life - it symbolises a journey towards something positive and life affirming (like the sun) and the pursuit of happiness

So Miles and this other person who is very close to him (remember; 'only you know what I get up to on my own) are trying to follow their dreams to a better life.

Miles is optimistic about this, 'the best is yet to come,' but also I thought the symbolism of 'coke and rum' was fun. (A coke and rum cocktail is a Cuba Libre - literally meaning 'Free Cuba,' which originated when the country won independence - so Miles wants freedom and independence).

'I'm in the corner, feeling the music like a wave' - literally could refer to Miles being in a club, in the corner with the music reverberating around him.

At a push, ‘wave’ might also refer to a sound wave, as in amplitude modulation or AM - and another little nod to Alex Turner!

However, 'in the corner' also means, 'I am trapped,' so perhaps, his career has him trapped and he can't be himself, even though he loves what he does. A 'wave' is a sudden occurrence or increase in a feeling or emotion. We know that Miles has said that he gets a real buzz from performing.

'I come with a warning, and a best before date.' - He's cautious as he's aware that music careers only last for so long. It could also mean that he'll only wait so long for a certain someone.

'I'll be the good, the bad, the queen, and all of the people in between' - nice reference to Damon Albarn's other band, who Miles is a fan of (he follows them on Insta) - by referring to himself as a queen, he's saying he is gay - also, it says that he will play the different roles and parts that he is required to, during his career.

'So it's the Late Show, and I'll be the host with no routine.' - to a casual listener, Miles could be saying that he's having a late night out on town, but as it is capitalised, it means more. The Late Show is an American news and political satire TV show. It also happens to be the show where Alex debuted his buzzcut, singing 'The Ultracheese.'

'And I'll be the host with no routine' - yet another double meaning. The host of the Late Show, Stephen Colbert, is, according to the New Yorker, not as popular on this show as he was on his previous show. Is Miles wondering if he won't be as successful if he comes out? Alternatively, it could mean, that Miles will be the person who entertains everyone (the host) by being himself and having no ulterior motives.

So, to sum up; this is not a simple song about a night out with friends. It is referring to Miles having only one person who really knows what he is like. He has a secret (a gay relationship) that only a few close friends know about officially and he'd like to be able to tell everyone about this. At present, he feels trapped in the situation as he loves his career but he can't be himself. He’ll play the different roles for so long, but not forever, then he'll shock everyone by taking charge and coming out - which will be a positive thing. The references to Alex in the song, point to him being the 'you' who knows him best.

Phew! Thanks for getting this far. If you have anything more to add I’d love to hear your comments. xx

[hoffstrap-yuri]

Passing Through

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary: “Sir… I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to turn around, and drop your pants.” Hoffman didn't think this situation could get any worse. (Saw AU for the Mule 2014)

*Rating: M for Mature Audiences

*Content/Tags: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, AU, Alternate Universe, Drugs, Drug Trafficking, Crime

*Status: Chapter 1 of 3/COMPLETE. Chapter 2 can be found here. Chapter 3 can be found here.

Author's Note: So uhhh this won't be as graphic as The Mule 2014 but it's still an AU based on the movie. This is still a fucking nasty idea that my friend @cubestrahm wanted to see come to fruition so badly and I'd do anything for her <3

“Sir… I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to turn around, and drop your pants.” A security agent cleared his throat. The man sighed as he was stripped of any sense of shame and stripped for the two agents. The agents behind him silently pantomimed ‘rock, paper, scissors’ over who was going to examine the man’s ass and see if in fact he was being used as a mule. The man clearly lost and moved closer to their detainee. He grabbed a glove and started to probe the other man. “Nothing.”

“Right. So can I go?” The man finally said, pulling his pants back up.

“Well… no.” The agent replied, “Wait here with Officer Martinez.”

“Fine.” He sighed in response. The female officer stood across from him in the holding room as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. John was going to kill him if this took any longer. The brand new clock hanging just over the door frame told him it was 3:23. He and Amanda were supposed to meet John’s driver at the airport at 3:09. He ran his hand through his hair as he waited in silence with this worker. The door opened and rather than letting him go free, there were two more serious looking agents. Another woman and man duo. The woman approached him and said sternly,

“Mark Hoffman, you’re under arrest for the transportation of illegal substances into the United States.” She slapped his wrist with handcuffs and pulled him out to a separate interrogation room. This was definitely going to take longer than a few minutes.

---

Mark Hoffman hadn’t wanted to do this. He didn’t just wake up one day and had an urge to fill his stomach up with a crap ton of cocaine filled condoms just for shits and giggles. The real reason he was doing it was simple. He’d gotten involved with one of John Kramer’s little sidekicks, Amanda. The girl had a mouth on her and an attitude to match. When Mark was about to pick her up she spat in his face and tried leaving a size seven boot mark on the beat cop’s face. He was able to restrain her, but the girl screamed, kicked and bit at Mark’s direction like a feral animal afraid to be put down. He kept a foot firm on the back of her neck as he managed to wrestle away a wallet from her pocket that had her real id on her. She wasn’t even thirty. Just a couple of months younger than his own sister, Angelina. He knew that he should book her. Hell some people in his department might add on a resisting arrest and assault of a police officer just to really stick it to the woman. He pulled her back up onto her feet, only for her to charge him blindly. The wind got knocked out of him as his back made contact with a brick wall. He took his hands and placed them firmly on her shoulders.

“Stop. I’m not going to arrest you. If you just fucking calm down…” He told her as she tried to fight free from his hands. She stopped long enough to hear the morally dubious cop out.

“What the hell do you want from me then, huh? You want me to jerk you off?” She snarled at him

“No. Just promise me you’ll go to rehab.”

“It can’t be that easy.” She rolled her eyes and laughed at him

“It’s that easy. I’ll take you right now to a clinic.”

“Fine.” She huffed as Hoffman pulled her into his squad car. He pulled up to a clinic he was familiar with and opened the door for her. She crawled out from the back and waited outside for a second while he got back into his car. With a heavy sigh, she trudged towards the door and that was the last that Hoffman thought he’d ever see of her. Clearly the lesson didn’t stick.

---

“Mark Hoffman. Police…”

“Detective.” Mark piped up

“… Detective.” The man corrected himself. He couldn’t hide the rolling of his eyes as the ‘detective’ insisted upon the distinction between his role and that of a beat cop. “Anyway, I’m Agent Peter Strahm, and this is my partner Lindsey Perez. We’ve got your file here. Graduated from police academy at 20… been at your precinct your whole career. Why the hell would you risk all that just to smuggle some fucking drugs into the country?”

“You’re operating on the assumption that I’m carrying drugs on me.”

“Well we’ve already searched your luggage, and there wasn’t anything there…” The female agent started. While her partner stayed seated across from Hoffman, she paced the room behind him like a shark circling its kill. Hoffman was all too familiar with the tactic as an officer of the law.

“Again. You’re operating under the assumption that I am acting as a drug mule. The only problem with your assumption is… that you’re entirely wrong.” Hoffman shrugged. He saw the blood veins starting to pop out of the male agent’s forehead before he took a deep breath.

“Listen.” He said, with one last appeal at Hoffman’s sense of justice. “Just tell us now, you might get slapped on the wrist. Five to ten years if you rat out the person you’re carrying for.”

“I would, if I had an inkling what you were talking about.” Hoffman replied. Strahm threw his hands up in the air and stepped out into the hallway, probably to call his and Perez’s supervisor. Perez leaned in against the table as her partner stood on the other side of the wall. Not a word was exchanged between the two of them until Strahm stepped back into the room.

“Legal precedence says we’re allowed to detain you for up to 4 days or until you’ve emptied your bowels twice. Or you could just submit to an x-ray scan.”

“And my answer will be the same as it was in security, I don’t want a scan.”

“Fine. Then you’ll be joining us in a nice little hotel room.” Strahm slapped the cuffs back onto Hoffman’s wrists and walked around the table to pull the suspect up onto his feet.

“Kinky.” Mark muttered under his breath. The two detectives looked at him, but neither managed to pick up what he had said. They paraded him out of the airport proper and shoved him into a shitty Chevy caprice, Agent Strahm’s if Mark had to take a wild stab in the dark. He watched out the window as five different lanes of traffic merged down into three then two to get them out of the airport. They drove approximately five miles from the airport and pulled into a second-rate hotel’s parking lot. Lindsey tucked Hoffman’s head under the door frame as she pulled him out and the agents dragged him up to a room somewhere in the middle of the hotel. From a glance, Hoffman saw no one but federal agents in the hallways, they probably bought out this floor to keep him from escaping in the dead of night. Strahm opened the door for Hoffman before shoving the bulkier man into the room. It was bare-bones. A bed, a bathroom, and a TV. Everything a businessman could need between flights out of town. Lindsey manhandled him in a similar fashion when a third agent showed up behind the two of them and sat down in the chair across from Mark’s bed.

“Here’s the rules. Either you stay here for four days straight under constant surveillance by either Perez, Agent Erickson, or myself or you submit to an x-ray exam. Whichever one comes first.” Strahm explained. “Get comfortable. You’re going to lose your mind if you don’t find someway to occupy your time here.”

“Thanks for the tip, counselor.” Hoffman rolled his eyes at the special agent’s fake pleasantries.

“If you need to use the bathroom, you tell Agent Erickson. If you need food, Erickson.” Peter continued. Hoffman opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but kept it shut when he realized it probably wouldn’t look good in a court case if he had mouthed off to the agent more than he had already had. He honestly thought, ‘and if I need a hand job, Erickson’ was pretty funny in his head. If only Strahm had any sense of humor. He slid back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling of his room. So this would be his cell for the next half a week. He only hope he could hold in the drugs long enough to get through these next four days.

---

“I’m home.” Hoffman kicked his shoes off by the door, yelling into the house. His calls go unanswered for a moment, but then his sister shouted something. “I can’t hear you, Ang.”

“I said I’m in here!” She yelled back. He followed her voice and found her in the process of cleaning her room. “Hi Mark.”

“Hi Ang.” He leaned against the door frame before asking her, “What are you up to?”

“Just reorganizing my closet.” A sweater flew past his face for emphasis on his sister’s point.

“I see. What do you want for dinner?”

“Anything’s fine.” She hummed to a tune rotating through her mental library. “Oh by the way…”

“Yeah?”

“Some guy stopped by earlier. Said you knew someone named Amanda and that she had work for you?”

“I don’t know an ‘Amanda’.” He played coy, even though he vividly remembered the addict he’d put into rehab. Or so he thought. What kind of ‘work’ did she have for him? “Thanks for taking that.”

“You’re welcome. He left a tape player, it should be on the kitchen table.”

“I’ll check it out.” He turned on his heels back to the kitchen and grabbed the player off the table to listen.

“Hello Detective.” A low voice started. Even in her deepest imitation of a man’s voice, Amanda couldn’t have recorded this. “You don’t know me, but I am the man who Amanda works for. I’m sure you and your co-workers have been eager to put a stop to my empire. You took pity on Amanda and for that I thank you, however ‘thanks’ doesn’t run a business. Meet with her tomorrow at 2 at the bar around the corner from your precinct to discuss the work you’ll be doing for me. You might ask yourself ‘Why would I work for a criminal when I’m a man of the law?’ and I will tell you right now. It’s your love for you sister. The only tether you have to this world. I will break said tether if you decide that you think you’re better than me and try to avoid my job I’ve given to you.” Like that the tape stopped. Mark flipped it over just to make sure there wasn’t anything else recorded on the opposite side of the tape. Something that could pinpoint where this asshole was and take him in before the meeting was supposed to take place but he listened in vain. He slide the player away from him and paced the kitchen. He tried to think of something he could do that would prevent Angie from being a causality in his lapse in judgment, now coming back to bite him in the ass. He ran his fingers through his hair before Angie interrupted his thoughts in person this time,

“It can’t be that hard to figure out what pizza shop you want to order from tonight.” She smiled at him

“Pick whichever one you want.” He sighed

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Rough day at work.” He lied to her. The less she knew about this whole deal the better.

“Okay. I’ll call in the order, but you’re driving to get it.” She laughed

“That’s fine.” He shrugged, trying to bask in the warmth of her presence and calm himself down. The rest of the night was uneventful, but Mark didn’t get a bit of sleep. As he was told, he showed up to the bar. There was no one in the bar except Amanda. She looked oddly calm.

“Detective.” Her expression was blank… he didn’t know if that was an improvement over the feral animal he ‘saved’ that day or if this was just some lobotomized version of the woman.

“Just get to the point. What does your guy need from me?”

“John. His name is John.” She spit at him. The pieces started falling into place in Hoffman’s mind. Her boss was John Fucking Kramer. His body went frigid. His whole department had been searching for the man for at least five years, and now this man had Hoffman in his sights. Worst than that, Angie was in the crossfire because of him and his compassion for someone that reminded him a bit too much of his sister.

“Fucking hell” were the only words that he was able to sputter out.

“Yeah.” Her expression turned into a crooked smile as she saw the wheels spinning in the detective’s head.

“What does John want from me?”

“Simple. You’re coming with me to Thailand and we’re bringing back drugs for John.” She told him like it was a trip to the corner store.

“Are you two fucking insane? I don’t even have a passport…”

“Already taken care of.” She slipped a royal blue document from her pants pocket and shoved it into Mark’s hand

“How did you get my info to forge this?”

“It’s amazing what you can find out with just a badge number, Detective.” She started to walk away from him

“Wait.” He turned towards her. She stopped and faced him once more, crossing her arms in front of her. “When are we going?”

“Next week. Meet me here.”

“Fine.” He grumbled and went back to work like that whole exchange hadn’t happened

---

The trip was uneventful. Many people in his life had told Mark that he should visit Thailand one day. He’d love the beaches, the food, the culture… and he got none of that. Amanda dragged his ass at butt o’clock in the morning to the supplier, making him wait for what felt like hours in five minutes as she grabbed a duffel bag’s worth of cocaine. She took him back to the hotel and explained how he was going to smuggle the cocaine back into the States. She spent nearly 3 hours tying up condoms full of the drugs and placed it before Mark. He only half-listened to the woman before her hand was on his thick throat and the other was forcing down the first balloon through his mouth. He nearly choked on the foreign intrusion before mouthing off to her.

“You could have warned me first.”

“Call it a right of passage. Open back up.” Her grip stayed firm on his neck. He begrudgingly opened his lips up for her and she took a handful this time and pushed it into his mouth. His throat had never hurt so badly. Tears escaped from the corners of his eyes until it was finally over. He ran a hand over his stomach, it didn’t feel like there was anything inside of him. Would they all just burst out of him at once like a chest buster with one wrong breath? “And this….” Amanda shook a nondescript bottle at him before taking out four pills. Rather than fight it again he swallowed them. “That should block you up for long enough… but just in case your fat ass goes through it faster…” Another four pills went down the hatch. He barely had time to recover before the woman shoved his passport into his hand and threw his bags at him. They got onto the plane without a word spoken between them, and Amanda all but abandoned him during security. They had a set timeline that they needed to get to John’s car by. When his bag didn’t show up and he looked at his watch. He didn’t have time to wait, so he booked it through security. Just as he thought he was in the clear was when the illusion all came crashing down. And that was why he was here now.

[hebuiltfive]

Hellooo!

How about our boy Scotty and #22?

Hellooo! Thank you for the ask! My words were not wording, so I hope this is okay and makes sense (I did read it back, but I don't think my brain is firing properly). Also I wasn't sure how to end it so apologies for the sudden finish! We're travelling back in time for some Wee!Tracys for this one!

(#22: You've Got Something On Your Face from 30 Gentle Prompts)

Pie

Time-keeping was a skill that little Scott was very proud of having. The watch Jeff had bought him for his recently passed ninth birthday had been a cherished present and Scott had worn it with every outfit, even when the bright blue of the watch didn’t exactly match the attire chosen. He didn’t care. It helped him keep track of time which, as he often pointed out to his younger siblings, was a very important thing to do.

Hence why Scott became irate this morning.

Before bed, he had asked his father all the necessary questions regarding how long it would take to drive out to the track and what time would be best for him to set his alarm. Jeff had helped him navigate the itinerary before tucking him in for the night and wrestling with Lucille over Scott not needing to be so organised at the tender age of nine. Scott had heard part of their conversation, but their words had soon drowned out as sleep claimed him.

When he had woken in the morning, he was on time and raring to go. His bag had been packed the night before so all he had to worry about was getting ready to leave, but that was when it all went wrong.

He strolled downstairs, his bag grasped excitedly in his hand, prepared to see his father waiting to drive him over to the club… Only Jeff wasn’t in the living room. He wasn’t on the front porch and, when Scott traipsed through to the kitchen, he noticed he wasn’t there either.

Virgil was sat at the table. In one hand, he held a spoon that was dripping with milk and cereal. In the other, he held an orange coloured crayon, which currently held more of his attention. When Scott entered, Virgil’s head lifted.

“Dad had to go over to Grandpa’s. Something had happened.”

Scott’s heart sunk. “What? What happened?”

“Nothing bad!” Virgil quickly amended at the look of dread on his older brother’s face. “Grandpa said it was urgent though, and Dad said he would have been back by now.”

Scott slammed his bag onto the table before lifting himself into one of the dining chairs with a huff.

Virgil steadied his bowl of breakfast with a tut. “Careful! You’ll ruin my homework!”

“What are you working on?” Scott asked, peering over the box of cereal to try and make out what Virgil had been colouring. Being on the opposite side of the table, it took Scott a minute to decipher the picture. “Is that a pigeon?”

“No! We’re studying regional birds. This is the titmouse.” He held up the orange colour proudly. “He has some orange around his sides!”

“Orange is boring. You should colour it blue.”

“It wouldn’t be accurate.”

“So? It would look cooler.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, throwing over another sheet of paper towards Scott. It landed upside down but, when Scott flipped it over, he noticed an already completed picture.

“That’s a bluejay.” Virgil explained as Scott’s eyes widened.

“I’ve seen these! There were some in one of the parks when me and Dad visited Wichita last month.”

“You can keep it.”

Scott’s eyes tore away from the perfectly coloured in picture — honestly, Virgil had a real talent for his art projects — to glance back at his brother. “What about your homework?”

“I only needed to do one, but I got inspired so I did them all. You can keep that one.”

Before he could utter his thanks aloud, Lucille walked into the kitchen with John trailing behind her. When she caught sight of Scott, he expression saddened. “Scott, honey, I’m so sorry but you might have to join the afternoon class today. Your dad did say he’d be back by now but…”

“It’s alright. Virgil coloured me in a bird.” Scott held up the picture for his mother to see.

“That’s lovely, sweetie.” She smiled fondly and then ruffled his hair. “Now, breakfast?”

Scott frowned. “But what if dad gets home when I’m eating?”

“You shouldn’t really start the day without breakfast, Scot. What about some cereal, like Virgil? Or I could make you some pancakes if you’d prefer.”

A dull thud and then the cries of a toddler came from the next room. Lucille ran out to check on Gordon before she noticed Scott’s grimace at her suggestions.

“Mommy is right, Scotty.” Virgil said, as John clambered up onto one of the chairs to join his older brothers. “Food is good.”

Scott rolled his eyes. He wasn’t particularly hungry and he hadn’t planned on having anything before his first day of training. Though he wouldn’t admit it to any of them, he had been feeling anxious all night. His sports teacher had signed him up for the track club after claiming he saw potential in Scott, and Scott had been excited to start ever since he’d agreed to give the club a go, but now the day had approached, he was nothing but nervous. Eating was the last thing on his mind.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Just have something small.” Virgil offered his bowl. “You can have the rest of mine, if you’d like?”

Scott shook his head. Cereal, especially the kind that was now soggy from being left in the milk too long, was the least appealing option. He jumped off the chair and scoured the kitchen. Both Virgil and John watched him curiously as he opened cupboards and debated between boxes and tins. Eventually, during his perusal of the refrigerator, he caught sight of the remainder of Mom’s freshly made apple pie and his eye brightened.

He took the pie from the shelf and placed it on the counter. Once he retrieved a clean plate from one of the cupboards, Scott carefully sliced himself a piece. He was acutely aware of his two brothers staring at him. Smugly, he returned the rest of the pie to the fridge and then took his seat at the table again.

“That isn’t breakfast!” Virgil claimed as Scott began to tuck into the pie.

“Mom said I had to eat. This is what I want to eat.”

“But it isn’t healthy!”

Scott’s eyes flitted from Virgil’s horrified expression to John’s curious gaze. He shrugged. “It tastes good though.”

“Mommy said pie is for the puds.” John frowned, finally understanding what his older brother had chosen to do and deciding to show he was unhappy about it. “Not morning time!”

Another couple of bites of pie were taken and Scott rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Johnny. Mom won’t know. I’ll eat it really fast, look!”

But John had already jumped down from the table and had left the kitchen. 

Unfazed, Scott continued to eat at a hurried pace. Whilst he technically didn’t do anything wrong by helping himself to the apple pie, he didn’t fancy having to explain his choices to Lucille and so wanted to be rid of any evidence before she returned.

“Ew, Scott, slow down! You’re getting crumbs everywhere!”

“Stop bein’ such a baby, ‘Gil.” He involuntary spat more crumbs everywhere, causing Virgil to cover his colouring to avoid the sheet getting tainted.

It took Scott no less than a few minutes to finish the plate. He grinned widely. “See? Nothing to worry about!”

Virgil clamped a hand over his mouth as the front door to the ranch clicked open and Jeff’s voice boomed through to them.

“Scotty? Ready to go?”

With furrowed brows of confusion at his younger brother’s obvious amusement, Scott hopped off the dining chair. The pie sat heavy in his stomach as he jumped, the nervousness beginning to set back in again, but he pushed it aside.

Just as Scott was about to run through to greet Jeff, Lucille appeared from the next room. She stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Slow down. You’ll cause an accident— Oh, Scotty.”

There was a glint of amusement in her eyes that matched Virgil’s quiet giggles.

Scott frowned. “What?”

“What have I told you about leaving those pies for pudding, not for breakfast?”

His cheeks warmed. “I didn’t…”

“No? So why is your little face covered in the red sauce and crumbs?”

His mother’s fingers carefully wiped at the corners of his mouth as she asked him her question. There was no accusatory tone, only soft delight.

Scott batted her fingers away. How embarrassing! “Mom! Stop! It’s fine! I’m already late!”

Behind him, Virgil was finding it hard to contain his chuckles. 

Scott offered him a glare, finally realising what his younger brother had found so funny. “You didn’t even tell me!”

“You would have found out eventually! That’s what happens when you eat something you’re not supposed to, Scotty.”

“Boys.” Jeff stood behind his wife in the doorway. “No fighting.”

“We wasn’t fighting.” Virgil clarified, his smile still large and beaming despite his inaccurate phrasing.

“We were about to.” Scott mumbled before being ushered out of the kitchen by Lucille.

Jeff took Scott’s shoulders to direct him through to the porch. “Come on, let’s get you going. We can make it for the afternoon class and… Scott, why are your clothes covered in pie crumbs?”

[sebeth]

Royal Rumble Marathon: 1992

The Royal Rumble marathon continues into 1992.

Spoilers for past Rumbles…

The undercard:

The Orient Express vs the New Foundation.

We see footage of the Mountie defeating Bret Hart. The commentators noted Bret wrestled with a high fever and is now out with the flu. I’m assuming Bret was sick as it would be an odd choice to change the title on a house show three days before Bret’s advertised match against the Mountie at the Royal Rumble. Roddy comes to Bret’s defense and will take his place against the now-champion Mountie.

The Mountie vs Roddy Piper. Roddy gets a huge reaction. Roddy wins his only WWF/E title when he defeats the Mountie.

The Bushwhackers (with Jamison) vs the Beverly Brothers (with the Genius). This re-watch marathon is bringing back memories of performers I haven’t thought of in decades. Jamison? That’s a blast from the past. If you’re too young to remember Jamison, think of a nerdy Rick Moreno type combined with a dash of the “Eugene” gimmick.

The Legion of Doom vs the Natural Disasters. Last year at the Rumble, Tugboat was helping Hogan fight Earthquake, now he calls himself Typhoon and has formed a tag team with Earthquake. I recommend the “Dark Side of the Ring” episode on Earthquake, it wasn’t “dark” per se but it was an interesting look at the man behind the gimmick. I never liked the Legion of Doom’s presentation in the WWF. The Road Warriors in the AWA/NWA were scary and intimidating. The team went to the WWF and their mystique/aura decreased by 75%.

Sean Mooney interviews a newly-turned Shawn Michaels with footage from the infamous Barbershop attack on Marty Janetty. The Rockers break-up has to be one of the all-time heel turns.

Hype vignettes before the Rumble: Flair, Savage, Sid Justice, Repo Man, Davey Boy, Jake Roberts, Undertaker, Hogan,

Marty Janetty and Nasty Boy Knobbs have lost their spots in the Royal Rumble due to injuries (though I think Janetty’s was in-storyline only as this took place a week after Shawn sent Marty through the barbershop window). Nikolai Volkoff and Haku will take their spots.

For the first time the Rumble has a point as this year the winner will become the WWF World heavyweight champion. If I remember correctly, the title was vacated/held up due to a Hogan/Undertaker storyline.

The entrants in order of appearance:

Davey Boy Smith

Ted DiBase (accompanied by Sherri Martel)

Ric Flair (accompanied by Mister Perfect)

Nasty Boy Sags

Haku

Shawn Michaels

“El Matador” Tito Santana (Such a lame gimmick for Tito)

The Barbarian

Kerry Von Erich

Repo Man (formerly known as Smash of Demolition) It’s a silly gimmick but I love it

Greg “The Hammer” Valentine

Nikolai Volkoff

Big Boss Man

Hercules

“Rowdy” Roddy Piper

Jake “the Snake” Roberts

“Hacksaw” Jim Duggan

IRS (Mike Rotunda)

“Superfly” Jimmy Snuka

The Undertaker

“Macho Man” Randy Savage

The Berzerker (John Nord)

Virgil

Iron Sheik (referred to as Mustafa, accompanied by Adnan)

Rick “the Model” Martel

Hulk Hogan

Skinner (Steve Keirn)

Sgt Slaughter

Sid Justice

The Warlord (accompanied by Slick)

Flair wins the Rumble to become the new world champion. Hogan is the worst babyface ever – he has a hissy when Sid eliminates him from the Rumble, helps Flair eliminate Sid from the Rumble after his own elimination, and then chases Flair from the ring so he can’t celebrate his victory. Hogan continues to have a hissy at Sid. I never liked Hogan as a child and rewatching his storylines as an adult I can understand why all his “frends” eventually turn on him. He sucks!

Only the first two entrants received entrance music. Managers were allowed to accompany their charges to ringside but could not remain in the area (the WWF flip flops on whether managers could remain at ringside during the early years ).

First time Rumblers: Ric Flair, Nasty Boy Sags, IRS, Berzerker, Virgil, Skinner, Sid Justice

Highlights: Heenan having a panic attack the length of the Rumble over the possibility of Flair’s elimination, Flair’s performance, Savage accidentally eliminates himself but Taker throws him back in to continue in the Rumble. Flair sets a new endurance record for the Rumble

March to Wrestlemania: Hogan and Sid have their confrontation to set up their Wrestlemania match.

Wrestlers and others who have passed on: Gorilla Monsoon, Bobby Heenan, Howard Finkel, Mr. Fuji, Owen Hart, Jim Neidhart (we have six deceased individual within 5 minutes of the event starting), Lord Alfred Hayes, Roddy Piper, “The Genius” Lanny Poffo, Bushwhacker Butch, the Legion of Doom, Earthquake, Mean Gene Okerlund, “Mister Perfect” Curt Henning, Paul Bearer, Jack Tunney, Davey Boy Smith, Sherri Martel, Kerry Von Erich, Nikolai Volkoff, Big Boss Man, Hercules, Jimmy Snuka, Joey Marella, Virgil, Iron Sheik, Adnan.

Total number of deceased performers: 28, passing the previous Rumble by seven.

Rating: 8 out of 10

[skylarmoon71]

Castiel (Supernatural/Grimm) - Short Story -Extra 2

Castiel has so many cute sides.

But what is most endearing is probably the way he looks at you sometimes when you’d kiss him suddenly. His eyes would gleam in a way that almost glowed. His lips would form a small smile and his cheeks would become a delicate flush, brows furrowed in curiosity and anticipation.

“Can I have another?”

You often found yourself gushing when he made the request. He was just too sweet. So of course you were obligated to fulfill his request and give him another little kiss to satisfy him.

Days on the job were funny. 

You get to see Castiel somewhat in an element that he’s familiar with. He’d told you he worked a number of cases with Dean back home. It’s a bit funny because Castiel’s serious persona worked great for some of the more tricky cases. His blunt way of questioning suspects made it easy to spot lies. 

Like today.

“Where were you last night Mr. Adona?”

The man shifted in his spot at the glare Castiel had directed right at him.

“I-I was just at home having a beer.”

“You’re lying.”

Adona stiffened in his seat and Castiel’s eyes were still narrowed, as if trying to intimidate the truth right out of him.

“F-Fine! I killed him okay! The bastard basically stole my wife and kid! What was I supposed to do?”

“You’ve been separated from your wife for three years and she wasn’t romantically involved with John Kleff. He was her therapist. She was trying to work through losing her home after you gambled away most of your money. You killed an innocent man because you were a jealous gambling drunk.”

You could tell that your words had struck him. The pain on his face was something he deserved. You never liked cases like these. Wrong place at the wrong time.

You slid the pad across the desk.

“Write it all down.”

He nodded, lowering his head in shame as he grabbed the pen.

It was tough, those situations where there were no real winners. Stepping out of the interrogation, you took the confession as some other officers grabbed him to be processed. Castiel was at your side, matching stride. It took maybe twenty minutes to get it all done. The second you were done with the paperwork, you dropped the stack on your desk. Castiel walked in and when you saw the small pack of marshmallows in his hand you smiled. He handed it to you, and you took it graciously. He sat down.

“I know it can be difficult, but I am always here if you need me.”

You appreciate that more than he realizes. For a while you’ve been without a partner and for longer you’ve been somewhat alone. Relationships were tough. It was hard to know who to trust, more so because of what you could see. Dragging someone into this without fully knowing what you were capable of, it always felt like a sort of deceit.

That’s why love was a bit out of your reach. It was also why Diana had been so adamant on helping you. Diana has always been perceptive, and you knew that under all the jokes and tricks, she must have realized just how lonely you were, how much it hurt to see other people have what you couldn’t. You’re forever grateful, she never lets you forget it either.

“You seem happier.”

You nod, leaning back in your seat.

“I’m very happy, you’re here after all.” You smiled at him and he returned it, shyly looking away.

“Thank you.”

You nod, giggling.

Another thing you absolutely loved is his bashful nature.

You’re very lucky.

The day seems to drag on, by the time your shift ends, you’re ready to just dive into Castiel’s arms. You thought you were the only one eager, but the second you both had made it outside he’d pretty much teleported you to his home. You staggered and he caught you.

You looked at him with a laugh.

“Castiel, we left my car at the precinct.”

He seemed to register that.

“My apologies.”

You just shook your head, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s shower and pop in a movie.”

He was ready for that.

A nice soak in the bath together and some wrestling later and you were tucked on your couch under his arm enjoying the film.

“Oh, I almost forgot I have to stop by the spice shop tomorrow.”

Castiel hummed in response, fingers stroking your arm.

“You smell like lavender.” 

He tucked his head into your neck, inhaling softly and this time you were the one blushing. You had indeed changed your body wash but you didn’t think it was enough for him to tell the difference.

“Yeah, I changed it recently. Is it good? If the scent is too strong I can get another one.”

He started planting kisses along your skin and it became very obvious that the scent was indeed something he appreciated. His hand cupped your right breast and you nibbled on your lower lip. You could clearly see where the night was heading.

Some very strenuous activity a few hours later and you were off to the spice shop the following morning. Diana had texted you about grabbing a cup of coffee on the way for her. No doubt she was messing around there asking Rosalee about medicinal cures and such. She loved that stuff. It’s obvious why.

The second you entered she practically grabbed the drink.

“Wow, you’re welcome (Y/N), I really appreciate you going out of your way to get me that drink.���

Castiel’s brows furrow.

“Why are you speaking in the third person?”

His confused expression just made you and Diana laugh. She placed the cup down with a sarcastic bow and you rolled your eyes, glancing at the book she opened.

“What are you reading?”

She flipped the page.

“It’s a potion that protects you from the pheromones of Ziegevolk. Last week one of the triplets apparently got hit with some. Figured it could come in handy since you and Kelly are the only ones that are practically immune.” You smile.

“Someone sounds jealous.”

“You wish.”

She was smiling as she took another sip of your drink as you waited for Rosalee to get in from the back. You usually came by on your days off to help with the stock. When you turned, Castiel was already lifting a few boxes. He already knows the drill. You smile.

“Castiel, have I told you how good your butt looks when you’re lifting heavy items.”

The familiar flush returned to his cheeks.

“I don’t believe you have.”

His responses were also very entertaining. He placed the boxes down in their designated space, shuffling back to grab the next stack, still wearing a slight blush.

“You guys are so lovey dovey it’s almost sickening.” Diana complained.

“Just remember it’s all because of you.”

“Oh trust me, I’ll never forget.”

You were ready for the list of items she would request for setting you up with Castiel, but she straightened in her seat, looking over at the door, then to the side. When she stood it became apparent something was going on. You recognize that look.

“Diana, what’s wrong?”

The subtle amethyst glow ignited around her irises, her eyes looking around as if searching.

“Something is coming..”

You did not like the sound of that. 

Castiel paused, dropping his boxes.

“She is right.”

Castiel's eyes were now shining as well, the blue light very familiar. His angel blade slid right out of his sleeve, gripping the handle as he prepared.

Rosalee walked in that very moment and you drew your gun, just in case.

“Is something wrong?” Rosalee asked, concerned.

“I’m not sure…”

Diana sounds distracted, and you’re waiting for it, whatever it is. What you don’t expect is the sound of wings. Similar to what Castiel’s sounds like when he just vanishes. You all seem to turn at the male now standing in the room and Castiel relaxes.

“Michael.”

He places his blade away, so you take it as a sign that this person isn’t a threat. The light has left Diana's eyes as well.

“I apologize for my sudden appearance. Jack informed me that you had left our world. I was concerned so I came to..”

The way his words lagged at the end was confusing. He looked like he was staring at something. You followed his gaze, and it landed right on Diana who’s wearing a similarly dazed expression. Michael stepped towards her and she had yet to move, her lips were parted as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“You have wings..”

Her words didn’t make sense.

“Wings, what wings?” You asked. She looked back at you.

“Y-You can’t see them, they’re right there.” She pointed, but you still couldn’t make them out. Michael stopped when he was directly in front of her.

“You are very beautiful..” Michael spoke wistfully.

She giggled in a very un-Diana way, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. She was smiling and you could have been wrong, but you could have sworn she was blushing.

“What the..”

You were still trying to figure out what was going on.

Castiel slid over to your side.

“I believe my brother might be interested in courting your sister.” He whispered next to you. Even if he’d shouted it, it was clear that neither of them would hear. Rosalee looked excited at the little love connection.

“Brother, you came to speak with me.”

Michael blinked, as if remembering. He turned to Castiel.

“Yes I..I just wanted to ensure that you were…you were..”

He was having a hard time finding his train of thought, his gaze moving back to Diana who was smiling way too widely.

“Is this how we were when we first met?”

You couldn’t imagine acting so foolishly lovestruck.

“Definitely.” Diana responded without breaking eye contact from Michael.

“Since you’re here, maybe I can show you around our universe. That is if you have time to spare.” She batted her eyes and he nodded eagerly.

“Yes, I would like that very much. “

She smiled, holding out her hand.

“I’m Diana, it’s nice to meet you Michael.”

“You as well.”

He still seemed very much in a daze and Diana sent a wink in your direction.

You were starting to notice a pattern.

It’s clear that your bloodline was attracted to all things angel.

~Nick and Adalind’s House~

“Dad!!! I got a boyfriend!!”

Diana’s call was like a siren and Nick broke the corner with his gun drawn. Michael looked a bit confused.

“What do you mean boyfriend!! Were you hiding him all this time like your sister!?!”

You casually strolled into the room with Castiel and Adalind walked out of the kitchen with an apron around her waist.

“Why is your first response to us having partners so aggressive and why do you have your gun drawn!”

He shrugged.

“Just making sure she was safe.”

“She said boyfriend, not a serial killer Dad!!”

“I don’t see the difference.” He muttered.

Castiel rolled over to Michael’s side.

“You have nothing to worry about, this is a normal greeting in traditional human customs.”

You facepalm.

“Castiel, it really isn’t. My dad is just a psycho and very overprotective.”

Michael tilts his head, taking a step forward.

“I assure you no harm will come to your daughter while she’s in my care. If anyone were to hurt her I would rip their souls right out of their body and scatter the pieces to the edges of the earth.”

Your expression just went blank. Diana was grinning and Adalind looked a bit concerned.

“Another angel huh, guess I can make an exception.”

Nick holds out his hand.

“Welcome to the family.”

“DAD!!”

Your family needs serious help. 

[brightoakgame]

helloooo! so. we know jasper is a thrift store suit gym rat. but how stronk are the other ROs? I'm guessing John is at least a little buff? (is marybeth the strongest of em all???)

Hahaha! 💪 Let's see...

John: He has the body of a healthy hedonist, haha! As much as he enjoys food and drink, he also considers it the better part of his job description to take on handyman work as needed throughout the town: patching up a roof here, repairing a fence there, hauling bricks, fetching down kittens stuck in trees-- he's even up to performing light electrical / carpentry / plumbing work. John's love of people and making himself useful means his body is in pretty constant motion, so there's certainly plenty of muscle under there, even if it doesn't necessarily show at first glance.

Marybeth: (Sparrow interjects from well out of arm's reach: "Though she be but little, she is fierce!") Probably the least physically strong of the group-- but if she's really mad, that won't stop her from picking up Sparrow and throwing him across the room anyway (Sparrow beats a hasty retreat)

Patti: She grew up on a ranch, and took very active part in all the chores that entailed, from managing livestock to chopping wood to keeping the homestead farm running. While her current lifestyle is somewhat less physically demanding, prior to the events of the story she still spent at least a few afternoons each week helping her brother run the ranch. She could quite possibly take John in an arm-wrestling match-- assuming John did not have the foresight to run away or play dead in advance.

Sparrow: Not actually as fragile as he might look-- but that's all I'll say on that subject. 😶

Jasper: For those unaware, this Ask references a previous Ask where I revealed that Kit/the MC at one point describes Jasper-- to his face-- as "a grumpy gym rat in a thrift-store suit" (he's terribly offended by the attack on his suit, by the way-- it is period-appropriate). Because he considers it vital to prepare for any and all possible eventualities he might meet with, he holds himself to a rigid standard of physical conditioning, and engages in a number of physical disciplines to that end (distance running, circuit training, and Judo among them).

[readingandwritingandreading]

The Day Before You ~ Part 2

My Blurb: Thank you all for the comments on the first part, feedback really is what keeps writers going. Likes are good but comments and reblogs are GOLD! As always if you didn’t write it don’t post it anywhere. And if anone is interested in being added to my lil tag list feel free to message me!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Summary: Forced into an awkward dance with a stranger at Sheamus’s wedding, Ridge doesn’t think he’ll ever see her again until she turns up at a show a few months later with Sheamus’s wife and he gets a second chance.

Pairing: Ridge Holland x OFC Lyssa Hutchinson

Warnings: the term “balls deep”, reference to cheating

Tagging: @pioched​​ @snarkandsarcasmftw​ @pikapuff316​​  @moxskitten​

Read First: The Day Before You Masterlist

Also Check Out: Main Masterlist

“Now I've got two of ya lookin at your phone, instead of getting ready.” Butch sounded annoyed but he had a grin on his face when he burst into the locker room. Sheamus responded by chucking a roll of tape at him while I laughed. 

“Says the man who sends me baby pictures at 3 in the morning.” I finished my text to Lyssa before tossing the phone in my bag and standing up to stretch. I hadn’t made it more than two hours after getting her number to send her a text. It was simple, just “Hey, this is Ridge” but we’d been texting back and forth non stop for the past week. Tonight was Smackdown and she said she was watching, it gave me a new motivation to perform well. It also made me eager to get home, if we got out of the arena fairly quickly, we would be back in Orlando about 2 in the morning which would give me time to get some sleep and take care of the parts of our date I couldn’t do over the phone. I was pulled out of my thoughts by one of the interns letting us know we were up next. I grinned when I saw my phone light up, leaning over to see a text from Lyssa:

Lyssa: “Good luck!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A thrill shot through me when their music hit, the thumping drums matching my heartbeat. It was ridiculous how excited I was, we had been texting all week and more than once I had caught myself smiling at the phone. I sat up straighter from where I had been sprawled across my couch, studying Ridge as him, Sheamus and Butch headed to the ring. They were continuing their feud with Imperium tonight, the three men already standing stonily in the ring. I had been watching WWE since the wedding but I was invested now, I knew tonight's match would be brutal. These six were always trying to straight up murder each other. 

Despite his attitude, massive size and obvious strength, that was currently emphasized by the cut off t-shirt he wore to the ring, Ridge had been a fun, engaging and interesting conversationalist the past week. He was smarter and sweeter than his in ring demeanor alluded to. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ridge: “Finally out of the arena and on the highway. With Butch driving we’ll be home in record time.”

Lyssa: “As long as he gets you guys back in one piece. Haha. Is your nose ok?”

Ridge: “Ya, it’s going to take more than a forearm from those three to break it. You worried about me?”

Lyssa: “Well, I don’t want my favorite wrestler on the bench. Then I would have no reason to watch.”

Ridge: “I’m your favorite wrestler?”

Lyssa: “John Cena’s not in the ring much these days so…”

Ridge: “Noted. Adding take down Cena and become Lyssa’s favorite to my wrestling goals.”

Lyssa: “*laugh emoji* You guys have a safe trip, I have a big date tomorrow so I need to get some sleep.” 

Ridge: “Lucky guy. Goodnight Lyssa.”

Lyssa: “*blushing emoji* Goodnight Ridge.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lyssa lived in a light blue and brick, 3 bedroom apartment building with a neatly manicured walkway. Sliding my SUV into one of the guest parking spots I shut off the engine and double checked her apartment number. Unit 3314, a corner apartment on the right side of the building. Following the signs, I took the stairs two at a time until I made it to her floor, pausing before her door to take a breath and make sure I hadn’t crushed the small bouquet in my hands.

My quick knock was followed by some shuffling sounds before Lyssa opened the door, immediately smiling when she saw me. Her smile lit up her whole face and caused a strange skip in my heartbeat that years of wrestling and rugby had never caused. I thought I was screwed when she’d been dragged over to dance with me at the wedding, but right now looking at her beaming at me I knew it for sure. 

“Hi! Come on in, I just have to put my shoes on.” She moved out of the doorway allowing me to step into a small hallway. 

“These are for you.” I handed her the bouquet, trying not to groan when her smile grew and her hand brushed mine.

She smelled the flowers before turning and heading further into the apartment where I could see an island with bar stools pulled up to it. “Thank you! I love flowers! I’m terrible at keeping them alive but I love their smell and the way they brighten up a room.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I kneeled down to grab a vase from under my sink. I didn’t need to turn to know that Ridge had followed me and was surveying my apartment. I could almost sense his presence as I set the vase in the sink to add water. He looked massive in the space but didn’t seem uncomfortable, his hands tucked into the pockets of the olive jacket he wore over a black shirt that I was sure wasn’t supposed to look that good on anyone. 

Turning I placed the flowers in the vase and moved it to the middle of my island. “I’m glad you like them. I didn’t know what your favorite was.” Ridge shrugged. 

“I don’t really have one, I like all the colors and scents. I don’t like mums. They smell weird and remind me of a hospital.” I shuddered while sliding my flats on and grabbing my jacket from the closet. Somehow Ridge was immediately beside me, holding it up so I could slide my arms in. For a big man, he sure could move quietly. “Thank you.” I smiled at him before grabbing my purse. 

Ridge hadn’t told me where we were going, only mentioning that I should wear pants. Despite my attempts he refused to budge on the surprise date location. I tried to guess as we headed away from all the fancy restaurants, giving him a raised eyebrow when we pulled into a riverside park. “Are you bringing me here to kill me?”

Ridge snorted, pulling the car into a spot. “If I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t have brought my own car.” He quickly shut off the car and exited, opening the door on my side before I had a chance to open it myself. He offered me his arm and I laughed, tucking my arm into his.

He led us on a path and I gasped, stopping in my tracks when we came around the bend. A cove from the nearby lake stretched out before us and there was a wooden dock that ended in a gazebo several yards into the water. There were twinkling lights on the railings and surrounding the gazebo creating a soft glow as the sun faded. 

“Is this ok? I know it’s not a fancy restaurant or anything but I…” he was cut off by me grabbing his arm and dragging him down the dock.. 

“This is perfect. I love it. It’s so beautiful and quiet. How did you do all this?” As we reached it, I surveyed the table in the middle of the gazebo already set with plates of covered food and drinks. 

“I’m helping a few of the rookies down in the training center. They agreed to get it all set up and cleaned up if I didn’t make them do minute planks with me sitting on their backs.” Ridge laughed and pulled out my chair before finding his seat. 

“Where are they?” I looked back towards the shoreline.

Ridge raised his voice when he answered, “Minding their own business until we are done.” 

I laughed hearing the faint sound of a door slamming and a car starting in the opposite direction we had come. “This smells good, where is it from?” I could barely contain my excitement when he pulled the covers off of our plates. 

“A little place downtown, Butch told me about it not long after I moved out here. I was pretty homesick for a while. They make food just like my mum does and the lady that runs it reminds me of her. She was way too excited when I asked for her help tonight.” He shrugged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lyssa looked like she was going to cry, which was not in my plans for tonight. Before I could say anything she cleared her throat and grabbed my hand across the table. “This is the nicest date I have ever been on. Astaire used to take me on these fancy elaborate dates, where I had to dress up in expensive dresses and spend way too long on my hair just to be treated like arm candy all night.” 

“Don’t all girls want to dress up in pretty dresses and get their hair done?” I replied, rubbing my thumb across our entwined fingers. I was a big man and most people were intimidated around me. It worked well in the ring but it was sometimes a hindrance with women. Lyssa was different though, she’d had no qualms about dancing with me and holding my hand or arm. 

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged, “It was fun at first, but I could never just be casually dressed and comfortable. His family had money so everything was about image and maintaining it. I love my job but he wanted a trophy wife. Then I found him balls deep in another girl, and that ended that.” 

I choked on my drink at her casual attitude. There was a flash of hurt in her eyes I would have missed if I wasn’t looking at her but it was gone before she was smiling again. “What kinda name is Astaire anyway? Obviously an idiot.” She laughed at that, the full body one that had haunted my dreams since the wedding. “Tell me about your job. What do you do exactly?” 

“Basically I read through and edit books before they are printed and published. Find typos, check continuity, make sure the book flows. Sometimes I lead focus groups. But basically I get paid to read. It’s the ultimate dream job.” Lyssa groaned as she took a bite of her food. “Oh my gosh, this is soo good.” 

I narrowly avoided choking again, her groan sending a bolt straight through my body. Clearing my throat I focused back on her job. “I noticed you had several book shelves. You like to read?”

Her eyes lit up, “I have always loved reading. We never traveled much when I was younger, so I traveled in books.” 

“Do you travel now?” I asked, refilling her glass. 

“I’ve done a little, I want to see more though. I’d love to see so many places. I’m sure England isn’t a big deal to you but I would love to see it and Scotland.” she blushed a little, “I don’t mean to presume..”

“I’d gladly take you with me.” I cut her off quickly.

She nodded before resuming eating, letting the comfortable silence settle over us. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ridge held my hand on the drive back to my apartment. It was a silly, almost high school level, gesture but I couldn’t help being thrilled about it. Ever the gentleman, he opened the car door and walked me to my apartment, his hand lingering at the small of my back on the stairs. His touch was warm and gentle but firm, making me feel safe and cared for. I didn’t want the night to end but I knew he hadn’t had a lot of rest and I was still too fresh out of my relationship with Astaire to move things any further. I unlocked my door and then turned to Ridge, “Thank you for tonight, it was wonderful.”

“My pleasure” he replied before taking my hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Goodnight Lyssa.” 

“Goodnight Ridge,” using his hold on my hand to balance myself, I stretched up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping into my apartment. 

[christoplack]

Percy Pringle (Paul Bearer) shares a story of how just days before Christmas in 1990, his car was repossessed, and he was on the verge of bankruptcy until a call to Rick Rude changed his fate: "It was four days before Christmas, in Dallas, Texas. World Class Championship Wrestling had closed down a couple of years before, and The USWA was ready to move back to Tennessee to make room for the new Global Wrestling Federation at The Sportatorium. I found myself without a job, and on the verge of bankruptcy. My car had been repossessed, and we didn’t have the money for a Christmas tree, much less presents to put under one. It became painfully hard to look into the eyes of my ten-year old and three-year old sons. I knew in my heart that my wrestling career was over, and it was time to make a drastic change. I called my friend “Ravishing” Rick Rude, who was working for The WWF at the time. I told Rick exactly what was going on in my life, and that I planned on moving back home to Alabama and go back to work in the funeral industry. He was very sympathetic, and asked me not to make any quick decisions. In fact, Rick told me that he would call me back before the end of the day. When we talked again a couple of hours later, he said “Vince wants you to call him at home.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Now, let me know what he has to say.” Rick concluded. I immediately fell back onto the sofa, dropping Vince McMahon’s telephone number to the floor. After about twenty minutes, I finally realized that it wasn’t a dream, and gathered the strength to dial Mr. McMahon’s private home number.“Where have you been all these years?” I remember Vince asking me, and after some small talk he told me that he would certainly like to meet with me after the holidays. The conversation still didn’t solve my Christmas problems, but I did have a sleepless night thinking that I may finally make it to “The Fed”. Early the next morning, my phone rang, and it was Mr. McMahon’s right hand man, Pat Patterson. Pat wanted to know if I could catch an early afternoon flight to New York, because Vince wanted to see me sooner than expected. Of course, my answer was positive, and he provided the flight information I needed. Things were happening so quickly, I could hardly digest them. Darkness was falling over the New York skyline as my American Airlines jet made it’s way into John F. Kennedy Airport. As I walked down the jet way, I spotted a well-dressed gentleman holding a card with my name written across it. I identified myself; he took my bag and told me to follow him to my limousine. “Limousine! Hell, I don’t even own a car.” I thought to myself. I actually felt like I was one of the Beverly Hillbillies as the limo driver took me through New York City and into Connecticut. Finally, we arrived at a majestic five-star hotel in Stamford, where I was whisked away to my penthouse suite. I wasn’t in the room five-minutes before my phone rang, and it was Pat Patterson. “Percy, Vince want to see you at 10 o’clock in the morning.” Pat told me, “I’ll pick you up at 9:45. In the meantime, you can eat, drink, and do anything you want to do. Just sign your name, it’s all courtesy of Titan Sports." To say that I was nervous is an understatement. I was scared to death, as I entered Vince McMahon’s office the next morning. Which, by the way, was my wedding anniversary, December 22, 1990. We talked about everything under the sun. It didn’t take long for Vince to make me feel right at home. As he looked over my resume, he began to laugh. I didn’t have a clue what was going on. “You have a degree in Mortuary Science?” Mr. McMahon questioned me, “This is just too much.” Little did I know that they were looking for a manger for The Undertaker, and Vince wasn’t aware that I had a background in Funeral Service, as well as being a wrestling manager. It was a match made in heaven, and when I left Titan Towers, I had a WWF contract in hand. We made it through the holidays; the WWF contract was a suitable anniversary gift for Dianna and myself. I went on the road in January 1991, as The WWF character known as Paul Bearer, managing The Undertaker."

[pcwpolwrestling]

12/14-PCW Extreme Political TV

Last Week on PCW Extreme Political TV: -The View’s Sunny Hostin has to read another legal note on the air -MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow explains why she took a 5 million dollar pay cut to stay and is attacked by Keith Olbermann. -MATCH #1: Keith Olbermann vs. Rachel Maddow go to a no-contest with Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski run down as well as Chris Hayes and everyone brawls into the crowd. -CBS TV Comedy Preview including: Ghosts, Georgie and Mandy’s First Marriage, and The CBS Evening News with Norah O’Donnell -MATCH #2-‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels w/the Skanky Rich Bimbos (Paris and Nicole) defeated Magnum P.O’d w/Robyn Masters -Daniels cuts a scathing promo on the people after the match. -Sunny Hostin reads yet another legal note on the air. -Woodward Bernstein is in Africa with Supreme Dark Overlord of PCW Joe Biden and things happen. -MAIN EVENT: Neal Conn-making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order (Conservative Inc.) defeated Ken Worth-American Trucker (Main Street USA) -Conn then also cuts a scathing promo on the people after the matching- setting the main event next week for the PCW title: Conn, Kevin Daniels, and PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell in a three-way dance.

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Surf Ballroom Clear Lake, Iowa. Saturday December 14th, 2024

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave AGE: 50 / HT: 5’ 11” WT: 195 HOME: Philadelphia, PA HAIR: Brown / STYLE: Like Ronnie Dunn / FACE: Goatee DRESS: Brown suit without tie

Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ AGE: 38 / HT: 5’ 5” WT: 142 HOME: New York City, NY HAIR: Black / STYLE: Curly / FACE: Narrow face with rounded jaw, turned-up nose, faint freckles, and thin lips. Bulging blue eyes, thin eyebrows. DRESS: Black pants suit

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots) Contenders: The Deplorables: Ray McAvay/’Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan (American Heartland Coalition) The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

Opening: The fluorescent lights flicker to life, casting a harsh glow over the squared circle. Johnny Suave adjusts his silk tie, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. He scans the packed arena, drinking in the electric atmosphere. The roar of the crowd washes over him, igniting that familiar spark in his veins.

Johnny Suave: Hello Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV!”

The crowd erupts, and Suave feels a surge of adrenaline.

Johnny Suave: I’m the ‘Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave.  She’s the ‘Low-Level New York Times reporter trying to make a name for herself’… Colleen Crowder.

Colleen’s sharp tone cuts through his reverie.

Colleen Crowder: Let’s hope tonight’s show is more substantial than your hairspray, Johnny.

Suave chuckles. He faces Colleen, plastering on his trademark grin.

Johnny Suave: Oh, Colleen, always with the quips. But tell me, did you leave your sense of excitement back at the New York Times office?

Colleen Crowder: No.  But I did bring the narrative because the mainstream media decides what’s important, what people should care about.

Johnny Suave: Well, tonight… what people should care about is the PCW Title match.  PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell of the American Heartland Coalition defends the title against the Progressive Alliance’s ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels and Neal Conn- making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order. 

Suave pauses an turns to Colleen.

Johnny Suave: I’m contractually obligated to say that.

Colleen rolls her eyes.

Colleen Crowder: We know.

Johnny Suave: Hold that thought.  There’s something going on backstage.

Cut to…

Backstage The hallway echoes with the collision of two political titans, their ideologies clashing like thunderbolts in a storm. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (Progressive Alliance) stands her ground, her dark eyes flashing with determination as she faces off against Marjorie Taylor-Greene (American Patriots).

The air crackles with tension, thick enough to choke on.

Marjorie Taylor-Greene: Well, if it isn’t the socialist squad’s poster child.

AOC’s fists clench at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez: Marjorie, still peddling conspiracy theories, I see. What’s next, lizard people in Congress?

Greene’s nostrils flare as she steps closer, invading AOC’s personal space. The scent of cheap hairspray and entitlement assaults AOC’s senses.

MTG: At least I’m not trying to destroy America with your Green New Deal nonsense!

AOC feels her patience wearing thin, like the ozone layer Greene refuses to acknowledge.

AOC: Nonsense? Climate change is real, unlike your space lasers!

The tension crackles between them, each word a match threatening to ignite an inferno. AOC’s heart races, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Greene’s face contorts with fury as she jabs a finger at AOC’s chest.

MTG: You listen here, you commie-

But before she can finish, AOC’s patience snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. With lightning speed honed from years of bartending and political maneuvering, she grabs Greene’s outstretched arm. Using the momentum, AOC spins Greene into the wall with a satisfying thud.

AOC: Enough! You want to settle this? Let’s settle it in the ring!

Greene pushes back, her eyes wild with challenge, like a cornered animal.

MTG: Bring it on, princess.  I’ll show you what real American toughness looks like!

AOC’s mind races. This is insane, but maybe it’s the only language Greene understands.

The two women grapple, their political rivalry exploding into a physical brawl. AOC feels Greene’s nails dig into her arm as they stumble towards the curtain. With a final shove, they burst through the fabric barrier, tumbling onto the entrance ramp of the PCW arena.

The crowd erupts in a cacophony of gasps and cheers.

Johnny Suave: HERE WE GO!  IT’S AN IMPROMPTU MATCH!

Colleen Crowder: Why?

AOC barely registers the noise as she rolls across the cold metal, trading blows with Greene. This is it, she thinks, democracy in action… or maybe just madness.

Suddenly, AOC finds herself free of Greene’s grip. She springs to her feet, chest heaving, and scans the area. Her gaze locks onto a “Green New Deal” sign in the front row. Perfect.

AOC: Hey, Marjorie!

AOC snatches the sign and brandishes it like a weapon.

AOC: Let’s see if you can deny climate change after I leave you in a world of hurt!

Greene, not to be outdone, grabs a red MAGA hat from a nearby fan.

MTG: You want to play dirty, socialist Barbie? I’ll show you dirty!

She whips the hat at AOC’s face with surprising accuracy.

AOC: Is that all you’ve got?

AOC twirls the “Green New Deal” sign like a baton, her eyes never leaving Greene’s face.

Greene’s face contorts with fury. She charges forward like a bull, her blonde hair streaming behind her.

AOC braces for impact, but Greene’s momentum is too much. They crash into the steel barricade with a sickening thud.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, it’s clear that Marjorie Taylor-Green instigated and provoked this… this…

The air rushes from AOC’s lungs as they tumble over, sending chairs and equipment flying in the timekeeper’s area.

Johnny Suave: Impromptu match between two women TAKING IT TO THE EXTREME?

AOC barely registers the words as she struggles to break Greene’s grip, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her back.

Colleen Crowder: Really, Johnny? Can we focus on the fact that two sitting congresswomen are brawling like street fighters?

Johnny Suave: WATCH OUT!

Greene seizes the momentary distraction and grabs AOC by the back of the head.

*BLAM*

Johnny Suave: OH!  MTG just slammed AOC’s head into the announce table.

Colleen Crowder: COME ON AOC!

Stars explode behind AOC’s eyes as she struggles to regain her bearings.

AOC’s vision clears, adrenaline surging through her veins. She spots a steel folding chair just within reach and lunges for it, her fingers closing around the cool metal.

Johnny Suave: AOC has a chair!

With a burst of strength, she swings it wildly.

AOC: FOR THE PEOPLE!

The chair connects with Greene’s midsection with a satisfying thud.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Greene stumbles back, gasping for air, her face contorted in pain and rage.

*WHAP*

Johnny Suave: STEEL CHAIRSHOT TO THE BACK BY AOC!

Greene staggers back to the barricade.

Johnny Suave: AOC moves in for the kill shot but… WAIT!

The crowd buzzes as someone races out from the back and sprints down the ramp.

Johnny Suave: THAT’S LAUREN BOEBERT!

The feisty, gun-toting American Patriot congresswoman from Colorado grabs the chair before AOC can slam it into MTG a second time.

Johnny Suave: Boebert and AOC are fighting over the chair

Colleen jumps out of her seat.

Colleen Crowder: YES!

Johnny Suave: HUH?

Jasmine Crockett sprints down and she tackles Boebert.

Colleen Crockett: GO JASMINE!

Johnny Suave: NOW JASMINE CROCKETT HAS RUN DOWN AND IT’S CHAOS AT RINGSIDE.

MTG has recovered enough to spear AOC to the floor.  Crockett and Boebert roll on the floor trying to get the upper hand.

Johnny Suave: And here comes PCW’s security team.

Colleen Crowder: Oh sure.  Just as the Progressive Alliance gets the upper hand, the security force shows up.

Johnny Suave: What a start to tonight’s edition of PCW Extreme Political TV!  We’ll be back after these messages.

***

Commercial Announcer Guy: Ladies and gentlemen, are you tired of being limited by traditional sources of energy? Do you constantly find yourself wishing you had nuclear power at your fingertips? Well, say goodbye to those pesky government regulations and hello to the Atom Splitter 3000! Brought to you by a college genius behind the infamous “Exploding Microwave” invention!

As we pan across a chaotic kitchen with radioactive waste strewn about, a frazzled housewife nervously shows off her purchase.

Frazzled Housewife: With just a push of this button, I can split atoms and create enough energy to run my entire home for a year! No more worrying about utility bills or wasting precious resources on primitive electricity – just pure atomic power!

Cut to a series of shots where people use the device for bizarre tasks like powering a Ferris wheel and cooking a Thanksgiving feast in seconds.

Announcer Guy: But wait, there’s more! Order now and we’ll throw in our exclusive “Uranium Pie Maker” attachment for free! You’ll never have to wait for your pie to bake again – just split some uranium and voila!

Suddenly, the door flies open and men in hazmat suits swarm in, shutting down the demonstration.

FBI Guy: This is the FBI! You’re under arrest for illegal possession and use of nuclear materials!

But before they can take anyone away, the college genius himself bursts onto the scene.

College Genius: Hold it right there, government goons! This is all just a misunderstanding. The Atom Splitter 3000 is perfectly safe when used correctly.

As he frantically tries to explain himself, another explosion rocks the room.

College Genius: Oops… sorry folks, looks like we may have miscalculated the power output on that one.’

The screen cuts to black and we hear sirens wailing in the background as a disclaimer reminds viewers to always use caution when dealing with nuclear technology.

***

A DOGE Commercial The screen fades to black, then a rugged American landscape appears.

Booming Announcer Guy: In a world of bloated bureaucracy…

Elon Musk’s face fills the frame, wind tousling his hair as he stands atop a rocky outcrop.

Elon Musk: America needs a leaner, meaner government machine.

Cut to Vivek Ramaswamy, striding purposefully across the Washington Mall.

Vivek Ramaswamy: That’s why we’ve created DOGE – the Department of Government Efficiency.

A montage flashes by: stacks of papers being shredded, computers shutting down, “CLOSED” signs appearing on agency doors.

Musk, now behind the wheel of a cybertruck, grins.

Elon Musk: We’re trimming the fat and cutting the red tape.

Ramaswamy, seated beside him, adds…

Vivek Ramaswamy: And we’re doing it faster than you can say ‘balanced budget.’

The truck careens through D.C., leaving bewildered bureaucrats in its wake. Musk thinks, This is even more fun than Twitter.

Vivek Ramaswamy: With DOGE, we’re not just making government smaller. We’re making it work for you.

The cybertruck screeches to a halt before the Capitol. Both men leap out, striding towards the building with purpose.

Musk turns to the camera.

Elon Musk: Because in Trump’s America, efficiency isn’t just a buzzword.

Vivek Ramaswamy: It’s a way of life.

As they reach the steps, Musk can’t help but smirk. Who knew government work could be this entertaining?

The screen fades to black, revealing the DOGE logo – a Shiba Inu wearing a red “Make America Great Again” hat.

***

Back from commercial break…

Charlie Blackwell Promo The spotlight pierces the darkness, illuminating Charlie Blackwell’s (American Patriots) weathered face as he emerges from the shadows. Sweat glistens on his broad shoulders, the PCW Championship belt a heavy reminder of the responsibility he carries.

Charlie Blackwell: City slickers and political hacks.

Blackwell’s, his voice cutting through the hushed arena. His eyes scan the crowd, making for a connection with the everyday Americans he represents.

He paces the ring, each boot fall echoing like a heartbeat.

Charlie Blackwell: This here belt ain’t just some fancy accessory. It’s the heartbeat of the American dream.

Blackwell’s calloused hand grips the microphone tighter, his knuckles whitening. The faces in the crowd blur together, but he sees in them the struggles of every hardworking citizen he’s sworn to champion.

Charlie Blackwell: While you suits in Washington play your games, I’m out here representin’ the folks who break their backs every day to keep this country runnin’.

His finger jabs the air, pointing accusingly at an invisible enemy.

Charlie Blackwell: Neal Conn thinks he can waltz in here with his fancy words and backroom deals. Well, I got news for you, partner. In this ring, actions speak louder than empty promises.

Blackwell pauses, letting the words hang in the air. The weight of the championship feels heavier than ever on his shoulders.

Charlie Blackwell: These people are counting on me and I can’t let them down. Tonight, I’m gonna show y’all what real American grit looks like. And when the dust settles, this belt’s stayin’ right where it belongs – with the workin’ man.

The crowd erupts, their cheers washing over Blackwell like a wave. He stands tall, a beacon of rugged defiance against the political machinations threatening to engulf the sport he loves.

The roar of the crowd fades as Blackwell’s music cuts abruptly.

Why?

***

The SEC Segment Suddenly, a commotion near the entrance ramp catches Suave’s attention. His eyes widen as he spots Paul Finebaum, the SEC’s biggest cheerleader, storming down the aisle. Finebaum’s face is a mask of unbridled fury, his usually composed demeanor shattered.

Johnny Suave: Wait a second. Looks like we have an unexpected guest.  What could have riled up ol’ Paul this time?

Finebaum snatches a microphone from a startled stagehand and grips the mic, his body trembling with rage.

Paul Finebaum: This is an outrage!

Johnny Suave: What’s an outrage?

The crowd falls silent, hanging on his every word.

Paul Finebaum: SMU in the playoffs? Over Alabama? Have we lost our minds?

The arena erupts in a cacophony of boos and cheers, the audience split down the middle.

Finebaum waves off the crowd’s reaction, his eyes wild with indignation.

Paul Finebaum: The committee has made a mockery of college football.  Alabama’s tradition, their dominance, their… their… SEC-ness! It’s being ignored!  The SEC is being disrespected here!

Johnny Suave: Here we go again with the SEC bias.

Suave rolls his eyes, barely suppressing a groan.

The arena erupts as “International Harvester” by Craig Morgan blares through the speakers.

Johnny Suave: WAIT!  IT’S MAIN STREET USA!

Finebaum’s surprised to see Farmer John Deer and Ken Worth-American Trucker stride down the ramp, their imposing figures casting long shadows across the ring.

John adjusts his denim overalls, his calloused hands gripping the microphone.

Farmer John: Hold on there, Finebaum. I’m a big fan of the big state schools but you cryin’ about Alabama like a calf separated from its mama tells me you’re missin’ the bigger picture. The team that lost twice to teams that lost six times on the season and at Tennessee deserved to get into the playoffs over SMU who made it to their conference championship?

Ken Worth: Here’s a news flash, Paul… Tennessee didn’t deserve to get in over Miami either.

Finebaum’s face turns bright red.

Paul Finebaum: WHAT?

Finebaum points his finger at Worth.

Paul Finebaum: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Paul Finebaum: In the SEC, it just means more! Alabama is a brand name. SMU isn’t. Alabama is in the SEC… SMU isn’t. The SEC is better than every college football conference in America and it’s about time they were given the respect they deserve!

Johnny Suave: Tell you what… when SEC teams don’t play eight home games when most non-power conference teams play a split schedule of six home, six away… because having more home games isn’t an advantage… oh right… Alabama lost three away games this season… Tennessee lost away games at six-loss Arkansas and at Georgia… you come talk to me.

Finebaum turns to Suave and glares at him.

Ken nods, his steel-blue eyes narrowing.

Ken Worth: That’s right, Paul. This ain’t just about football. It’s about the little guy gettin’ steamrolled by the big boys.”

Finebaum’s face reddens.

Paul Finebaum: Now wait just a minute-

Farmer John: No, you wait.  While you’re fussin’ over the SEC, folks in the heartland are struggling to make ends meet. We’re the Mid-American Conference of life, Paul. The underdogs.

Ken steps forward, his worn boots creaking.

Ken Worth: The elites don’t give a damn about us as long as their pockets are lined. Sound familiar, Finebaum? Just like your precious SEC.

Farmer John: This is our chance to make a stand for the folks back home. For every hardworking American who feels left behind.

Finebaum sputters.

Paul Finebaum: You can’t possibly compare-

Ken Worth: Oh, but we can. And we will. How about you put your money where your mouth is, Paul? Next week, you and your SEC cronies against Main Street USA.

The crowd roars its approval as John and Ken stand tall, ready to fight for the everyman.

Finebaum, visibly shaken, tries to regain composure.

Paul Finebaum: You’re out of your league, gentlemen. In the SEC, it just means-

Farmer John: Save it.  Next week, we’ll show you what really means more.

Cut back to Suave and Colleen…

Johnny Suave: There you have it!  Main Street USA will take on The SEC next time on PCW Extreme Political TV.

***

Neal Conn Promo A chill sweeps through the arena as the American Patriots’s Neal Conn… making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order… emerges, his tailored suit a stark contrast to the gritty authenticity of the wrestling ring. His perfectly coiffed hair gleams under the spotlight, not a strand out of place.

Joining him, Hallie Burton… protector of the military-industrial complex… who slinks next to Conn as his lips form a smirk as he raises the microphone.

Neal Conn: Mr. Blackwell seems to think this championship is about pandering to the masses. How… quaint.

His voice drips with condescension, each word precisely chosen for maximum impact.

Neal Conn: Blackwell’s strength is formidable, but every man has a weakness. Find it, exploit it, and victory is assured.

He adjusts his tie, a gesture of calculated nonchalance.

Neal Conn: This title, represents power on a global scale. And in the hands of the American Patriots, it will cement our nation’s dominance on the world stage.

The crowd’s boos wash over him, but Conn remains unfazed. Let them jeer, he thinks. They’re too short-sighted to see the bigger picture.

His voice grows colder, more threatening.

Neal Conn: I will do whatever it takes to secure that power. The ends justify the means, after all. Tonight, I’ll prove that true leadership requires more than empty populist rhetoric. It demands vision, strategy, and the willingness to do what others won’t.

He takes a step forward, his presence filling the ring.

Neal Conn: Prepare yourself, cowboy. Your rodeo is about to end.

***

Commercial Break A fast-paced commercial jingle plays…

Announcer Guy: “Are you tired of being broke? Sick of the government printing money while you struggle? Well, say hello to the revolutionary MoneyMaker 3000!”

Camera pans across a dorm room where a scrawny college student with wild hair and thick glasses stands proudly next to a bizarre contraption

Genius College Student: Hi, I’m Devin, and I’ve solved the financial crisis with science!

Announcer Guy: That’s right, folks! This genius has created a do-it-yourself money printer that’ll make you richer than your wildest dreams!

Montage of people using the MoneyMaker 3000.

Announcer Guy: Watch as Susan pays off her student loans with freshly printed cash! See Tom buy a yacht with crisp bills straight from the machine! Marvel at little Timmy becoming the richest kid on the playground!

Genius College Student: If the Fed can do it, why can’t we?

Announcer Guy: But wait, there’s more! Order now and we’ll throw in our patented ‘Audit Avoider’ software! Keep those pesky IRS agents off your back!”

Scene of a man swimming in a pool filled with money.

Announce Guy: Imagine never worrying about bills again! Buy anything you want! Heck, buy the whole store!

Suddenly, loud banging is heard.

FBI Agent: FBI! Open up!

Genius College Student [panicking]: Oh no, they’ve found me!

Doors burst open, agents rush in.

Announcer Guy [speaking rapidly]: The MoneyMaker 3000 is not approved by any government agency. Use at your own risk. Side effects may include hyperinflation, economic collapse, and federal prison time. Batteries not included.

Agents handcuff the student.

Genius College Student [being dragged away]: You can’t stop the financial revolution!

Announcer Guy: MoneyMaker 3000 – because why should the government have all the fun?

Commercial abruptly ends with static…

***

Commercial The screen flickers to life with a somber image of a funeral home exterior, but suddenly, upbeat party music blasts through the speakers.

Announcer Guy: Are you tired of boring, depressing funerals? Well, say goodbye to those dreary affairs and hello to ‘Last Call Funeral Parlor’!

The camera pans to reveal a lively scene inside the funeral home. People are laughing, drinking, and dancing around an open casket.

Spokesperson (a cheerful woman in a sparkly black dress): Hi, I’m Morticia, and my role here is to be a party planner for the dead. We’re changing how people view celebrations of life!

She gestures to a fully stocked bar next to a flower-covered coffin.

Morticia: At Last Call, we believe in putting the ‘fun’ back in funeral. Why mourn when you can party?

A montage plays of various funeral scenarios: a conga line weaving around tombstones, a limbo contest using the casket as the bar, and a drinking game called “I Never” with the deceased as an honorary participant.

Morticia (whispering to the camera): Don’t worry, we’re totally respectful. We only serve alcohol on the premises, and everyone stays until the services are over. It’s like a lock-in, but with more embalming fluid!

The scene cuts to a group of people raising their glasses in a toast to a portrait of the deceased.

Announcer Guy: Last Call Funeral Parlor – because your loved ones wouldn’t want you to cry in your beer, they’d want you to spill it dancing on their grave!

The commercial ends with Morticia winking at the camera and saying,

Morticia: Remember folks, at Last Call, we’re always dying to party with you!

Announcer Guy (voice fading): Last Call Funeral Parlor – putting the FUN back in funeral!

***

Back from commercial…

Kevin Daniels Promo The arena plunges into darkness, only to explode in a cacophony of flashing lights and pulsing neon. ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels of the Progressive Alliance emerges from a cloud of glitter, his sequined jacket catching every beam of light. He struts down the ramp, a smirk plastered across his chiseled face.

Kevin Daniels: Well, well, well…

Daniels drawls into the microphone, his voice dripping with condescension.

Kevin Daniels: Looks like we’ve got ourselves a hoedown and a board meeting. How… quaint.

He runs a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, savoring the mix of cheers and boos from the crowd.

Paris and Nicole, the Skanky Rich Bimbos, flank him, their vapid giggles echoing through the arena. Taylor Switt trails behind, strumming an aimless chord on her guitar.

Daniels’ eyes narrow.

Kevin Daniels: These two think they’ve got it all figured out.  But they don’t know what real star power looks like. Allow me to class up this little soirée.

Daniels gestures grandly to his entourage.

Kevin Daniels: You see, while you two are busy pandering to farmers and flag-wavers, I’m living the American dream. Hollywood, baby!

He pauses, drinking in the reaction. The crowd’s negative energy fuels him, their attention addictive. This is what it means to be a true star.

Kevin Daniels: Where I come from, the streets are paved with gold. And the people? Well, they’re paved with silicone.” Paris and Nicole titter on cue, while Taylor strums another chord.

Daniels locks eyes with Blackwell, then Conn, his gaze a clear challenge.

Kevin Daniels: This title belongs on the waist of someone who truly represents America’s elite. Someone with style, charisma, and a net worth that would make your heads spin.

He makes a championship belt gesture around his waist.

Kevin Daniels: Tonight, I’m not just winning a championship. I’m elevating it.

A predatory grin spreads across his face.

Kevin Daniels: So sit back, relax, and watch a real star shine.

MAIN EVENT-PCW TITLE: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) © vs. Neal Conn (American Patriots) vs. ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance)

The bell rings, and chaos erupts. Conn and Daniels lock eyes, a silent agreement forming in an instant. They converge on Blackwell like sharks scenting blood in the water.

Johnny Suave’s voice cuts through the mayhem.

Johnny Suave: And we’re off! Conn and Daniels double-teaming the champ right out of the gate!

Blackwell’s mind races as he fends off the assault. These city slickers might have fancy moves, but they ain’t never wrestled a steer. He ducks a wild swing from Daniels, only to catch a knee from Conn.

Colleen Crowder’s sharp tone slices through the commentary.

Colleen Crowder: Typical conservative strategy, Johnny. Gang up on the working man.

Johnny Suave: Oh, come on, Colleen!  It’s the establishment of both sides ganging up on Blackwell.

Blackwell finds himself cornered, his back against the turnbuckle. Conn’s methodical strikes contrast sharply with Daniels’ flashy maneuvers. It’s like being caught between a sledgehammer and a disco ball, he thinks grimly.

Johnny Suave: Look at that teamwork.  Conn with a textbook suplex, followed by Daniels’ patented ‘Hollywood Star Press’!

The impact knocks the wind from Blackwell’s lungs.

Colleen Crowder: Teamwork? More like a temporary cease-fire between the coastal elite and the war hawks. Mark my words, this alliance won’t last.

Blackwell’s jaw sets in determination. These boys might have the numbers, but they don’t have the grit. He’s weathered worse storms back on the ranch. Time to show ’em what Texas tough really means. The ring shudders as Blackwell launches into action. Daniels, caught up in his own ego, attempts a showy “Red Carpet Roll-Up” on the champion. His sequined jacket glitters under the arena lights as he flips and twists.

Johnny Suave: Look at that Hollywood razzle-dazzle!

But Daniels’ showboating proves costly. Conn, seeing an opportunity, blindsides his temporary ally with a vicious clothesline. The impact echoes through the arena.

Johnny Suave: And Conn just turned on Daniels! The alliance is shattered!

Crowder’s smug tone cuts through the chaos.

Colleen Crowder: I told you, Johnny. Honor among thieves is as rare as bipartisanship in Washington.

Blackwell, his instincts honed by years of wrangling ornery cattle, seizes the moment. He grabs Conn, muscles rippling under his sweat-soaked singlet, and Irish whips him into the turnbuckle. The impact stuns Conn, leaving him vulnerable.

Johnny Suave: Blackwell’s mounting a comeback!

As Conn slumps in the corner, Blackwell’s mind races. These city slickers thought they had me, he thinks. But they forgot one thing – you can’t keep a good Texan down.

Suddenly, Daniels recovers, his face contorted with rage.

Kevin Daniels: This is my spotlight!”

Daniels charges at Conn with theatrical fury.

Blackwell watches, bemused, as Daniels executes his “Paparazzi Powerbomb” on Conn, sending him flying over the top rope and crashing to the floor.

Ring announcer Kimber Marshall’s voice booms through the arena.

Kimber Marshall: Neal Conn has been eliminated!

The crowd erupts as Blackwell and Daniels lock eyes. It’s down to the two of them now. The PCW Championship hangs in the balance.

Colleen Crowder: Well, well, looks like it’s Texas grit versus Hollywood glitz. Care to place a bet, Johnny?

Suave chuckles.

Johnny Suave: I wouldn’t dare, Colleen. But I can tell you one thing – this is about to get real interesting!

As Daniels struts around the ring, blowing kisses to his entourage, Blackwell sets his jaw.

Johnny Suave: Let’s see if Charlie Blackwell can show this Hollywood pretty boy what real wrestling’s all about, he thinks. This ain’t no movie set, son. This is where the rubber meets the road.

Colleen Crowder: Kevin Daniels is a star and people want to elevate their stars.

The air crackles with tension as Blackwell and Daniels circle each other, the PCW Championship belt gleaming like a beacon of glory. Blackwell’s steely gaze locks onto Daniels, his mind racing.

Johnny Suave: This ain’t no red carpet, pretty boy. It’s a Texas showdown. Look at that focus. Blackwell’s locked in like a bull eyeing a red cape!

Crowder’s retort drips with sarcasm.

Colleen Crowder: More like a stubborn mule refusing to budge. Daniels has the agility and star power to run circles around him.

Blackwell grits his teeth. Mule, huh? I’ll show you stubborn, darlin’.

Suddenly, Daniels lunges forward, his sequined jacket catching the light as he attempts a flashy hurricanrana. Time slows for Blackwell as he sees the move coming. Not today, Hollywood.

With a surge of raw power, Blackwell catches Daniels mid-air, the crowd gasping in collective shock.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! Blackwell’s got him!

Daniels’ eyes widen in panic as Blackwell smoothly transitions, his muscles straining. This is for Texas, for the workin’ man, for everyone these coastal elites look down on.

Johnny Suave: KATAHAJIME!

Colleen Crowder: Balls!

Suave practically leaps out of his seat.

Johnny Suave: Blackwell’s got Daniels in the Katahajime!

Colleen Crowder: Come on Kevin!  Get out of there.

The arena erupts as Daniels writhes in the hold, his perfectly coiffed hair coming undone. Paris and Nicole’s shrieks pierce the air, their manicured nails clawing uselessly.

Colleen Crowder: C’mon, Daniels.

Crowder has a note of desperation in her voice.

Colleen Crowder: Use that Hollywood magic to escape!

Hollywood star’s perfectly manicured hand flails wildly, desperately searching for the ropes just out of reach.

Johnny Suave: He’s fading fast! Will Daniels tap out?

Sweat drips down Blackwell’s face as he maintains the hold. Come on, pretty boy. Time to face reality.

The tension in the arena increases as the crowd holding its collective breath. Suddenly, Daniels’ hand slaps the mat.

Johnny Suave: He tapped! Daniels tapped out! Blackwell retains!

Colleen Crowder: Well… that wasn’t in our narrative.

The bell rings, its sound nearly drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. Blackwell releases the hold, chest heaving as he rises to his feet.

Kimber Marshall’s voice booms through the arena.

Kimber Marshall: Here is your winner, and still PCW Champion, Charlie ‘Wrestling’ Blackwell!

As the referee raises his arm in victory, Blackwell catches Crowder’s deflated mutter over the arena speakers.

Colleen Crowder: Well, I suppose even Hollywood endings can’t always be scripted.

The championship belt gleams under the arena lights as Blackwell hoists it high above his head. The roar of the crowd washes over him, a tidal wave of adulation that sends a chill down his spine. This is what it’s all about, he thinks. Not the glitz, not the glamour, but the raw connection between a champion and his people.

Johnny Suave: What a match! What a night! Blackwell proves once again why he’s the heart and soul of PCW!

Blackwell allows himself a small smile. Heart and soul? Maybe. But more importantly, I’m the backbone of this joint.

Crowder’s sharp retort follows quickly.

Colleen Crowder: Heart and soul? More like the stubborn appendix. But I’ll give credit where it’s due – Blackwell showed some impressive resilience tonight.

Johnny Suave: Typical coastal elites underestimating the working folks.

As Suave and Crowder continue their verbal sparring, Blackwell makes his way around the ring, slapping hands with fans and basking in their cheers. The camera pans across the arena, capturing the electric atmosphere. Signs wave, fans cheer, and in the center of it all stands Charlie Blackwell, PCW Champion, a testament to the enduring power of the American spirit – for better or worse.

[the-firebird69]

There's a couple other things the money situation Trump's people are being attacked in the money centers they see him screwing around with our son all the time and they recognize the scams and they see it's him and he took tons of money and he's got tons of it and they're going after him and his characters they're firing them and he's here and those characters trying to threaten and it's making him much worse he's losing cons and tons of money and he's cheap and he's stupid boy the sky went way way off the deep end and it's just an idiot he's going to lose everything and think he's one because of AI and he doesn't have it and it's horrible we know he doesn't have it and we have people that are a lot tough for customers and say just let it go. We have some pretty decent methods like we rewire all of them with linear programs and he says I'm making it do it and can't really.

-+-there's other things to do but we do have more to announce. The day is going well things are happening like they should and he'll probably get it straightened out if not it's another hell night and hopefully back in I can't take much longer than a couple days so we're looking at that but then we have yet another conflict and it's over all of the circles all over us even huge ones and Continental caverns big army start getting together they're half the size of the ones that were defending the stashes and caches at first which is not very big but it's a sign and they detected uranium and almost all of them and it's a big huge rush and we're going to have a lot of forced business momentarily.

Thor Freya

There's a whole bunch of gas here and now there's more and you can't believe it it's the one helping the control John Cena there's going to be wrestling matches. I do recognize that and he knows I have to do it and he knows why and Frank Castle had Castle does it and blames me. It's really obnoxious and he's made a chunk of it and she did too and her stuff is massively rude it's dangerous we have to control it and that's what I'm mentioning he's finally having the correct smell and it's taken years okay it's been living on minor amounts of it a lot of the spleen and it's taking a rest and he's getting better and it's getting cleared and it will take a little time but it's not damaged it's just tired and it's we can see that he's looking better and he starts at 10:00 that's a sign that the screen is doing better people should note that

Duke Nukem Blockbuster

Olympus

[blowflyfag]

Inside Wrestling: Volume 26, 2009

hotseat 

BATISTA

“It’s an honor to represent the business, and I take that seriously”

FOUR-TIME WWE World champion Batista is one of the federation’s most bankable superstars. Whether he’s squaring off with heels such as Chris Jericho or taking on a fellow fan favorite such as John Cena, he never loses his trademark intensity in the squared circle. 

Out of the ring, Batista remains one of the WWE’s most quietly effective promo men. His calm, confident demeanor conveys an image of someone who doesn’t need to shout to get a point across. While he’s generally soft-spoken in his delivery, Batista almost never holds back or sugarcoats his view about other wrestlers or the business in general. 

“The Animal” has recently taken a detour in his pursuit of a fifth title reign to renew hostilities with longtime rival Randy Orton. The two have been on opposite sides of the fence every since the breakup of Evolution, and whenever they’ve been on the same WWE brand or interpromotional pay-per-view event, a Batista-Orton clash never seems far away, even when they’re feuding with other wrestlers.

Batista recently took part in a bout that had special meaning to him, defeating Manu in the latter’s Raw debut. Batista, who was trained by Manu’s father, Wild Samoan Afa, has always paid homage to the role Afa played in his development. 

[“I suppose Orton thinks going after me makes a statement that he’s ready to push for another title shot. I’m ready for anything Orton does. We’ll see how ready he is for me.”]

Veteran wrestling reporter Matt Brock recently sat down with Batista to discuss his World championship aspirations, the feud with Orton, and the experience of opposing Manu. As usual, Batista gave straightforward answers to even the most probing of questions.

Q: Dave, it seems like your path and Randy Orton’s will keep crossing whenever you’re in the same place at the same time. Four years ago, there was a red hot debate as to whether you or he would be the bigger long=term star in WWE. In the time since then, I’d say you’ve had the upper hand. 

A: Without trying to sound arrogant about it, I’d agree. I’ve been more consistent, although it took me a while to recover from that torn triceps a few years ago. Orton has been a lot more up and down, while I’ve usually been either the guy on top or right in the title mix.

Q: Clearly he sees you as one of the main obstacles to another title reign. Do you feel the same?

A: I can only speak for myself. My own goal, of course, is to eventually regain the belt, and a healthy Randy Orton is always a threat to win the title. I suppose Orton thinks going after me makes a statement that he's ready to push for another title shot. I'm ready for anything Orton does. We’ll see how ready he is for me. 

Q:  Are you concerned at all that Orton has more to gain from a feud with you right now than you do with him? After all, you were fighting title matches with Chris Jericho when Orton provoked you. He needed to go through you, not the other way around. 

A: I hear you, but that’s not how I look at it. I’d run into Orton sooner or later, and I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. So it might as well be now. 

[“To have staying power, you’ve got to prepare a little different for every opponent. There are adjustments to make. Flair told Orton that, and told me that.”]

In his most recent feud with Chris Jericho, Batista saw both the highs and lows of the business. One minute he was winning the World championship, and the very next he was losing it right back to Jericho. ]

Q: Even when you feuded with Triple-H and Ric Flair, the mutual respect level was obvious. That’s not necessarily the case with Orton, is it?

A: Let me put it this way. I’m a confident guy, and so is he. But here’s the difference. I was taught very early on, by Afa, Flair, and other guys, that it’s a privilege to wrestle and the best way to learn is by paying respect to the guys who’ve succeeded for years. I admire the true pros. I think anyone who has watched Randy Orton over the years knows that he thinks the world revolves around him, as if he was perfect in his first match, and steadily improved from there. 

Q: I’d like to try something here. I’ll give you my scouting report of Batista vs. Orton, and you can tell me where you agree or disagree with my assessment. 

A: No problem. Go ahead. 

Q: Let’s start with the no-brainers. He’s 28 and just entering his prime, and you’re 39, so he gets the edge in youth. You’ve got the edge in power in terms of technical ability and pure athleticism, I’d give him the edge. 

A: I’d agree with that. Yeah, for sure. He’s one of those guys who looks like he was born to wrestle professionally, even apart from his family background. I wasn't a natural at this, so I learned to compensate by using my size and strength to my advantage. I think I'm ok technically, and that took a whole, but my bread and butter is always going to be my power, and also my heart. No question. 

[Batista is willing to face opponents of any size, and his determination to win never changes. No matter if they are as massive as The Big Show (above) or as quick as Rey Mysterio Jr. (below), Batista has a custom strategy for every wrestler he faces.]

Q: In terms of intangibles in the ring, though, I’d give you the advantage. The biggest reason is that you seem to have more built-in respect for your opponent’s capabilities, whereas Orton is still so wrapped up in himself that he refuses to adjust.

A: Yeah, well, that’s something that goes back to Evolution. Everyone thought Triple-H, Flair, and me were just jealous when Randy became the youngest World champion in WWE history, but we all thought he won the belt a little too soon for his own good. To have staying power, you’ve got to prepare a little different for every opponent. THere are adjustments to make. Flair told Orton that, and told me that. Triple-H told both of us that, too. I took it seriously, Randy thought he knew better than the veterans. It’s only been very recently that I think Orton has reached that next level. To be honest with you, I think he’s better prepared for big matches now than he was then. If he stays healthy, I think he’ll be a more consistent wrestler than he used to be. Give credit where it’s due. He had a hell of a year before the collarbone injury. 

Q: Will you go right after the collarbone? 

A: Hell, yes. I’d be foolish not to do that, Matt. Everyone knows it, including Orton, so I’m not giving anything away to say that my game plan is to make him prove he’s going to hold up physically after the injury. I won’t do anything fancy, just stick with what works. I’ll bodyslam or armbar him every chance I get, lean on his neck and shoulders and force him to use his upper body whenever possible. He’s a big guy, but I’ve got the height and weight advantage on him. 

[If Batista wants to become a five-time world champion, he’s going to have to get through former Evolution partner Randy Orton. RKO has had his eyes on Batista, but he better be careful: This Animal doesn’t take kindly to being in anyone’s crosshairs.]

Q: We talked a little bit about making adjustments. You are more of a straight-up power wrestler than anything else, but what are some of the specific adjustments you have to make to go up against guys like Orton, Chris Jericho, or The Big Show? 

A: With the super-heavyweights like Big Show, you want to get them down on the mat and work their back or their legs. For a guy like me, it’s tempting to try to test my power, but going in, I know I might not be able to use my Batista bomb finisher or a bodyslam. Even if i do execute it, it saps a lot  of energy, so I’d better be sure the guy is totally set up for it. With guys who are smaller than me, it’s the opposite. I don’t want to get worn down, and I need to use my own size advantage. 

Q: Do you see a fifth world championship reign in your future?

A: That’s my plan, yeah. In this business, 39 isn’t old, so long as you stay healthy. I have a lot of good years left if I play my cards right. Right now, I feel really good. 

Q: Did it have any special meaning to you to be tabbed to go up against Afa’s son, Manu, in his first Raw match?

A: Definitely. He’s got a lot of potential, and it’s no secret that I admire the hell out of Afa  and owe him a debt of gratitude for giving me my own start. Afa knows that I wasn’t about to let up on Manu because of who his dad is. He would have been disappointed in me if i wrestled Manu any differently.

[“In this business, 39 isn’t old, so long as you stay healthy. I have a lot of good years left if i play my cards right.”]

Q: Who knows, maybe someday you’ll have a kid in wrestling and Manu can pay his respects to you by beating the hell out of your kid.

A: [Laughs] Yeah, that’s how it goes in this business. Trust me, Manu is going to be a real handful as he continues maturing in the ring.

Q: One final question. You’ve never really  had any pretensions of being a crossover star, yet you’ve appeared on Family Feud, MTV Cribs, and even appeared at the presidential convention to encourage people to vote. Does that sort of recognition ever surprise you?

A: Here’s how I look at it. I make a great living in this business, and I’m proud of what I do. I owe everything I have to wrestling, and that’s the truth. It’s an honor to represent the business, and I take that seriously.