#ensuring it looks exactly like the wrestler

[meowjf]

A very quick doodle page of Hangman Page >:)

[freenewsreport]

Zack Gottsagen’s Inspirational Journey: Navigating Life’s Expressions with Heart and Determination

When we think of individuals who have defied the odds, broken barriers, and inspired countless people, one name that stands out is Zack Gottsagen. With his unwavering determination and vibrant personality, Zack’s story is a testament to resilience. But it’s not just his acting that has touched lives—his journey is a reflection of how idiomatic expressions, transitional phrases, and even dangling modifiers play a part in our day-to-day communication. Curious about how these language elements tie into Zack's story?

 Zack Gottsagen, an actor who gained widespread recognition through the film The Peanut Butter Falcon, has captivated audiences with not only his talent but also his passion for breaking down stereotypes. Born with Down syndrome, Zack’s journey to Hollywood has been anything but conventional, but that’s exactly what makes it so extraordinary. Through his work, Zack demonstrates how communication—whether through words or actions—can transcend limitations and inspire millions. 

The Rise of Zack Gottsagen: An Inspirational Story

Zack Gottsagen’s journey to Hollywood is a tale that defies odds. In an industry where diversity is still a work in progress, Zack stood tall (both literally and metaphorically) in his breakout role in The Peanut Butter Falcon. Playing the role of a man with dreams of becoming a professional wrestler, Zack’s performance struck a chord with audiences. But here’s the kicker—Zack’s on-screen success wasn’t just about his acting chops. It was about who he is as a person, someone who effortlessly bridges gaps in understanding and communication.

How does this relate to language? Zack Gottsagen’s life is a perfect metaphor for idiomatic expressions. You know, those quirky little phrases we use every day? Just like Zack, they might seem unconventional at first, but they make perfect sense when you look at the bigger picture.

Idiomatic Expressions and the Zack Gottsagen Effect

Let’s talk idioms. We all use them, right? But have you ever thought about how much meaning they carry beyond their literal words? Phrases like "the ball is in your court" or "break the mold" carry deeper meanings that go beyond the surface. Zack Gottsagen, in many ways, embodies these idiomatic expressions in his life and career.

Take the phrase “break the mold,” for instance. Zack has done just that—he’s shattered stereotypes about what individuals with disabilities can achieve in Hollywood. His performance was a breath of fresh air, showing that talent knows no boundaries. Just like idioms spice up our everyday speech, Zack Gottsagen spices up the Hollywood landscape with his unique perspective.

Here are a few idiomatic expressions that reflect Zack Gottsagen’s journey:

"Against all odds" – Zack’s journey to success, despite the challenges, is nothing short of this.

"Wear your heart on your sleeve" – His authenticity and openness make this idiom a perfect fit.

"Bite the bullet" – Zack didn’t hesitate to take on a challenging industry, showing immense bravery.

Transitional Phrases: Keeping the Conversation Flowing

We’ve all been there—writing or speaking and suddenly realizing our thoughts feel disjointed. That’s where transitional phrases come in! They’re the bridges that connect ideas, ensuring our communication feels smooth and polished. Zack Gottsagen’s interviews and speeches are full of these graceful transitions, which help him move between ideas while keeping his message clear.

Whether Zack is speaking about his experiences in Hollywood or advocating for disability rights, he often uses phrases like “as a result,” “on the other hand,” and “in contrast” to structure his thoughts. These are the very tools we use to keep our writing from feeling like a bumpy ride.

Transitional Phrases to Keep Handy:

"On the flip side" – Just like Zack balances humor and seriousness in his performances, this phrase can balance two contrasting ideas.

"In addition to that" – Perfect for adding on a new point without making it feel abrupt.

"To sum up" – When Zack wraps up a powerful speech or interview, transitional phrases like this help him leave a lasting impression.

Dangling Modifiers: Avoiding Confusion in Communication

Now let’s talk about dangling modifiers. These are the pesky little mistakes that make a sentence feel awkward and unclear. You know what I mean: “Running down the street, my hat flew off.” Wait, was the hat running? Dangling modifiers can make things confusing, just like assumptions about someone’s abilities can cloud their true potential.

Zack Gottsagen’s career is a shining example of clear communication. He has always been straightforward in his goals, and his performances have a clarity that resonates with audiences. When we write or speak, avoiding dangling modifiers helps us communicate our thoughts just as clearly as Zack shares his story.

Here’s how you can fix a dangling modifier:

Incorrect: “After reading the book, the movie was a disappointment.”

Correct: “After reading the book, I found the movie disappointing.”

Informal Language: The Key to Authenticity

One of the things that makes Zack Gottsagen so relatable is his use of informal, everyday language. He doesn’t try to impress with big words or complicated sentences. Instead, he speaks from the heart, using contractions, idiomatic expressions, and exclamations to convey his thoughts in a way that feels real and authentic.

Informal language can be incredibly powerful. It breaks down barriers and helps us connect on a human level, just like Zack’s performances do. Whether he’s joking around with his co-stars or sharing a heartfelt message, Zack’s informal tone draws people in, making his words feel genuine.

Avoiding Repetition: Keep Things Fresh

If there’s one thing Zack Gottsagen’s career has taught us, it’s that repeating the same old ideas gets boring fast. Whether he’s playing a new role or giving an interview, Zack keeps things fresh by bringing his unique perspective to the table. Similarly, when writing, it’s essential to avoid using the same words and phrases over and over again.

For example, instead of saying “amazing” five times in a paragraph, why not mix it up? Use synonyms like “incredible,” “fantastic,” or “remarkable” to keep your writing engaging.

The Power of Positivity: Zack’s Winning Attitude

Zack Gottsagen’s positivity is infectious. He radiates joy in everything he does, whether on screen or off. And that positivity? It’s a reminder that the way we communicate can have a profound impact on others. Just like Zack, we should strive to be clear, positive, and true to ourselves in every conversation.

Wrapping It Up: What We Can Learn from Zack Gottsagen

Zack Gottsagen’s journey is more than just a Hollywood success story—it’s a lesson in resilience, authenticity, and the power of clear communication. From his use of idiomatic expressions to the seamless transitions in his speeches, Zack’s life is a reflection of how language can shape our world.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (623): Thu 30th Nov 2023

Tuned into last night's Dynamite where the Continental Classic kicked off. I'm a bit pessimistic about this whole thing because AEW aren't exactly low on tournaments or title belts and yet they've set up another tournament and the winner gets another title belt. I think this thing could work out if Tony Khan just decided to treat it like the G1 and the winner gets a world title shot. I also think it would be interesting if he decided who was winning the matches via a coin toss and gave full control of the booking of the matches to the wrestlers. If he did that it could lead to some breakout performances from some mid-card talent looking to break through. Also in the G1 there's an unwritten rule where if you beat the person who goes on to win the tournament he has to defend his title shot against you which is an ingenious way to explain why a wrestler would want to continue giving it their all even if mathematically they know they can't win it. This Continental Classic thing has no such stipulation so the wrestlers who are eliminated mathematically are in a sense completely eliminated and are just playing for laughs at this stage (kind of like someone who's partner on Pointless has scored 100 and all the other teams have scored less than 100 by the time it's their turn). Even though I have major issues with this whole tournament I I really hope Swerve Strickland wins the thing because this could be the thing that pushes him up to the next level. If they keep the title on him for a year and have him dominate all of his opponents then he could eventually get to the stage where he and MJF meet up in a title for title match and Swerve could be the one to dethrone him. I had another chiro appointment today. I've enjoyed these sessions because in addition to helping get rid of this cunting neck pain it's also a nice day out for me. I like the train ride through Newcastle listening to music or a podcast and I like having a little potter around the shops killing time before me session starts. I really should make more of an effort to get out of the house at least once a day because staying in the house after being inside a giant warehouse for five days probably isn't the best coping mechanism. After these sessions to fix my neck are over I might keep coming here and have her work on my knees next because they're in such bad shape I thing Hiroshi Tanahashi would wince at the sight of them. My chiropractor said at the end of my session today that it might be worth booking an appointment with a masseuse the day before my chiro appointments too since it seems to be mainly the right shoulder that’s affecting me now and getting a massage the day before will ensure my muscles are more relaxed and it will be easier for her to work on me.

[aewhore]

Drunk in love ~ Orange Cassidy x reader (NSFW)

REQUEST BY : @bestfriendshypewoman​  (I hope you like it!!!)

Summary: You go out to the bar with Adam after Revolution 2020, You and Orange get tipsy and you both get very handsy and flirty. You both end up back in your hotel room and it gets juicy. ;)    

Word count: 3500

Revolution had come and gone and it had been the best ppv for AEW so far. You had defended your AEW women's championship against one of your closest friends Kris Statlander. The saying in pro wrestling that “you hit harder when you're fighting your friends” never rang truer than when you and Kris stepped in the ring against one another. It was a hard hitting, fast paced match and it helped a lot that the crowd was electric the entire time. Signing with AEW was the best decision you had ever made in the last 15 years of your career, you were doing your best work and it was only getting better as your title reign continued.   

Hopping between different indie promotions means you made friends all over the world but sadly you didn't get to see them as often as you would like until now. That being said you also saw the people you didn't like a lot more often. Such people included the cooler than cool Orange Cassidy. It's not that you hated Cassidy, it's just he rubbed you the wrong way. It wasn't a one way street though, Cassidy wasn’t your biggest fan either. He would leave the room if you entered, he would ignore you if you both ever got stuck in a conversation together but now you were both in the same promotion so you did what any rational adults would do, and completely ignored each other like the plague.

So after your blockbuster match with Kris, you were bruised and beaten up as you prepared to leave the arena and return to your warm, soft bed back at the hotel. However just as you went to leave Hangman Adam Page came into your dressing room. “Hey Y/N, heck of a match tonight, congrats on successfully defending that title” He says as he gives you a congratulatory hug. You and Adam had been friends for many years, ever since ROH when Adam debuted and you were in a singles match on the main card. You had approached Adam after the show and you both immediately became great friends. “Speak for yourself! You just had an easy 5 star match and you're taking home the belt as well, I owe you many congratulations.” You laugh as you pat Adam on the back. “I don't know how you're still standing either, I'm absolutely exhausted and I can't wait to collapse back at the hotel” you confess to Adam as you go back to packing up your gear bag. “So you would be up for a champion’s celebratory beer at the bar?” You turn back to Adam to see him hiding a smirk like he already knew you answer. “Adam, I wanna go to bed.” you whine as Adam starts to give those puppy dog eyes of his. “Come on Y/N, were drinking buddies! You wouldn't want a cowboy to drink all by his lonesome after we’ve both had such a successful night” Adam did give some good points. The second you hesitated to think about it, Adam broke out into a smile.  “Great! I'll meet you in the hotel bar in 30 minutes” before you could argue Adam was already walking out giving you no option but to go drinking with your favourite southern boy.

You arrived back at the hotel to dump your luggage off back at your room first, while you were there you changed from your sweatshirt into a nice top so even if you didn't feel the best you might as well look the best. You left your room and headed towards the elevator. As you wait for the elevator, you reply to Adam’s text asking if you were on your way and if he should order you something to have it waiting for you when you get there. You got onto the first elevator that came, still on your phone you glanced up to push the button as you hit send on your demands for a free drink for Adam in exchange for your missing sleep.  You put your phone back into your pocket when you see you're not alone in the elevator, you were joined by all 3 of the best friends. You glance away to the mirror to fix your makeup. You hear Trent and Chuck talking amongst themselves about the pay per view that had just passed. It was no surprise not to hear a word from Cassidy other than the occasional grunt and mumbled “yeah”. You feel eyes on you as you glance in the mirror to see Cassidy staring at you in the mirror through his sunglasses. You raise your eyebrow slightly as you can feel your cheeks start to warm up under the heat of his stare.

The elevator dings when you all arrive at the lobby, you immediately turn to walk out of the elevator and towards the bar where you saw nearly every AEW wrestler celebrating another amazing ppv. You spot Adam sitting at the bar with two neat whiskeys in front of him and you immediately beeline for the much needed drink. Once you sit beside Adam the drinking begins, From beers to whiskeys as long as it was alcoholic you guys were drinking it. Since you were so small people assumed you couldn’t handle it, which couldn't be more wrong considering you put away a bottle of whiskey like it was nothing. As the hours ticked the crowd started to thin out in the bar but a lot of the remaining crowd all gathered around a few tables you had pushed together so you could all laugh and chat together. You were sandwiched between Adam and Chuckie T who were deep in conversation about the ups and downs of being southern men. You were drunkenly talking across the table at Kris who was telling you about her learning to wrestle on her home planet and how it compares to earthling wrestling. You were leaning your head against Adams shoulder as you normally did when the liquor was getting to your head. You glance around at your gang of coworker who were laughing and hollering as they told stories of their travels around the world before you eyes landed on Orange Cassidy, now without his signature sunglasses it was irrefutable that he was staring argyle at you, but as you focused on him you realized he wasn’t glaring at you rather he was giving a dead stare to Adam. This was thoroughly confusing as you weren’t aware if Adam and Cassidy had any beef. You make a mental note to ask Adam about it later when you were both sober.

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom and when you return you see that Chuckie has taken your seat and Trent has taken his seat, leaving the only empty seat beside Orange. You hesitate before sucking it up and sitting beside Cassidy, hoping he won't cause a fuss since he's busy chatting to Brandon Cutler and a few others. You pick back up your conversation with Kris which was easier since you were closer to her so it was far easier to hear her. Your conversations ends and you listen to Adam’s as he drunkenly rambles on about proper horse care to Trent and Chuckie who you are not sure if they’re listening intently or too drunk to even know Adams talking. You feel something on your back and turn to see Orange resting his arm around the back of your chair. You turn to face him and he’s already staring right at you with those strikingly blue eyes. “Can I help you?” You say, attitude dripping off every word. Cassidy sighs, he glances around at everyone at the table almost to ensure no one's watching before he leans in to you. “Listen i know we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye-” You interrupt him with a laugh at his massive understatement. “I mean it's hard to see eye to eye when we avoid each other Cassidy” he rolls his eyes. “Are you going to let me finish?” his voice had an air of dominance that you had never heard before causing you to stop talking immediately. Orange pulls your chair closer to him as the group around you gets loud again. He started to speak again this time in a low voice that demanded your attention. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I feel I have to explain myself. I feel there has been a misunderstanding between us..” due to how close you two had suddenly become you could smell jack and coke he was sipping on. “You see sweetheart I haven't been avoiding you because I don't like you, no no no quite the opposite, I’ve been avoiding you because I'm fascinated by you, the way you carry yourself. I find you incredibly attractive.” This was the most you had heard Cassidy speak in all your years of knowing him and to say you were gobsmacked would be an understatement. All this time you thought Cassidy disliked you and this is what was happening the whole time.  

As Cassidy spoke he rested his hand on the lower part of your thigh. You moved your hand to Cassidy’s side as you leaned in to whisper your response into his ear. “And here i was thinking you hated me but looking at where your hand is right now i can bet that you like me a lot more than you're letting on” the smirk on your face grows as you see a light blush grow on Cassidy’s face. You gently kiss Cassidy on the neck before you go to lean back in your chair but Cassidy doesn’t let you move too far away from him by wrapping the arm that was resting on your chair around your waist to pull you back into him. “Jesus, I always knew you’d be a tease” Cassidy growls into your ear “I just want to see how hot and bothered I get you” You run your hand up his thigh. Before Cassidy can reply in your back and forth he's interrupted by Adam. “Hey Y/N, I wanna head back to my room, help me up” You turn in your chair to see Adam doing grabby hands towards you. You burst out laughing at Adam showing how much of a baby he is. “Yeah ok Hangy lets get you back to your stables” you turn back to Cassidy to see him not looking at you but instead doing his usual too cool for school face, you grab a napkin off the table and a pen from your purse to scribble down your hotel room number. “When you finish up here come see me” You hand Cassidy the napkin and wink before you turn to help Adam out of the bar.

Adam was relying his entire weight on you as you approached his hotel room door, he was chatting your ear off about how fun the night was and how glad he was to have a friend like you.  You led him into the room before unceremoniously dumping him on his bed. He Immediately kicks off his boots before he starts to undress himself. “Jesus, Ok Adam at least  give me some sort of warning before you decide to get naked” You say over your shoulder as you turn to walk out of the room and to return to your own. “Ok night night Y/N” You couldn't help but laugh as you hear Adam wish you a good night, completely ignoring his half assed strip tease he just gave you. The second you shut Adams door behind you the anxiety in your stomach builds, what if Cassidy doesn't show but what happens if he does show up. The elevator ride from Adam’s floor to your own feels like an eternity. You get off the elevator and head towards your room. Once inside you put your bag down and take off your jacket. The pacing begins some time after that. You were a nervous wreck as you touched up your makeup and fixed your outfit waiting for Cassidy to show up.  

When you finally hear a knock at your door, you wait a few seconds to catch your breath before you look through the peephole to see Cassidy looking as nonchalant as ever. You open the door and before you can even greet him. Cassidy pushes past you into the room, slamming the door and pushing you up against it. You can feel his lips ghosting your own as you get lost in his gorgeous ocean coloured eyes. You lean up and Cassidy smashes your lips together in a wild and passionate kiss. Your hands went to wrap around Cassidy’s neck as his hand began roaming up and down your side, slipping under your shirt and massaging at the skin. His hands slide into your bra as he squeezes your tits causing you to gasp and that allows him to slip his tongue into your mouth. “Jump” he growls against your mouth as his hands lower to grab the backs  of your thighs as you follow his command and wrap your legs snuggly around his hips.

He walks you both towards your bed before he drops you onto the bed. You bounce as your ass collides with the soft surface. Your body lights up as Cassidy scans your body as he towers over you. You reach up and grab him by the collar to drag him down to smash your mouths back together. His hands return to roaming your body before he begins to tug your shirt up. You take the hint and strip off your shirt. Cassidy immediately attacks your chest with nips and open mouth kisses. You arch your back to get more from pressure and attention from Cassidy’s mouth while his mouth travels down your stomach. You giggled when he reached your happy trail, he eyed you as he began to unbutton your jeans. You raised your hips to make it easier to pull your jeans and your panties off completely and Cassidy throws them haphazardly behind himself.  Cassidy drapes your thighs over his shoulder as he begins to lay soft kisses and gentle bites along the insides of your thighs. He finally starts to lay kisses and kitten licks along your slit as your whines become full on moans at the pleasure you're receiving. His hands have a deadly grip on your hips keeping you bolted to the edge of the mattress meaning you can't do anything but lay there and take it as you start to be devoured. Cassidy’s kitten licks turn to long swipes of his tongue and his gentle kisses turn to toe curling pleasure as Cassidy sucks at your clit. Cassidy ate you out like a madman as you writhed and moaned below him. He eased a finger into you as you cried out his name, begging him for more. The coil in your abdomen tightened and tightened as Cassidy slid a second finger into you using his spit and your wetness as lubricant. He then begin scissoring and fucking you with his long, thin fingers. Knuckles nudging your G spot at the perfect pace as he thrust his fingers at an inhuman speed. “A-a-ahh C-Cassidy I’m g-onna c-cum” You cry out. Cassidy sucks on your clit to push you over the edge and you throw your head back.

You gripped his hair as you came down from your orgasm, you pull him up to kiss him and you groan as the taste of yourself fills your mouth. Your hands trail down his body as you tug at the hem of his shirt because him wearing any clothes is getting aggravating. He smirks at your need to see him naked as soon as possible. He grants your requests and you immediately attack his collarbone and chest with kisses and bites, he lets out a low moan when you suck on a sweet spot where his neck meets his shoulder causing him to suddenly grind into you. The feeling of his denim against your bare crotch caused a weird but euphoric rush to run through your body as he began fumbling with his jeans button. You place your hands over his in an effort to calm his nerves, you successfully get his jeans undone and he strips them off and throws them in the same direction that he threw yours. You had seen Cassidy without his shirt on before and you had seen him in wrestling trunks as well but seeing him towering above you in nothing but his boxers made you speechless at just how ungodly attractive he was. His slander build hid how much power and strength he had. You pulled Cassidy down to kiss him and you used this momentum to flip you both over so you were straddling Cassidy. Cassidy raises his hips to throw his boxers off, his hard dick stands up against his stomach and you grind against it for friction against your clit. He stills your hips by grabbing you and teasing your hole with his erection. You whined as Cassidy’s grip on your hips prevented you from sinking down on him.  

Cassidy smirked up at you as he lined himself up and slowly lowered you onto himself. The girth of it begins to override your senses as all you can think about is the stretching feeling as Cassidy pushed himself to the hilt. You sit flush against his hips when Cassidy starts to shallowly thrust up into you and your moans turn to cries when his tip perfectly nudges against your G spot. You place your hands against his chest for leverage and you can feel his rapid breathing beneath your palms. His thrusts become violent as his cock starts to throb inside of you. His hands trail up your body to squeeze and tease with your tits as you rode his cock like there was no tomorrow. You could tell Cassidy was close to cumming by the bright red flush of his face and chest and the groans that were just now becoming audible as he increased in volume the closer to finishing he got. Your hips started to stutter as your body tensed with how close you were. Cassidy lets his hand fall back down your body as he starts to rub tight circles on your clit causing you to be pushed over the edge as the coil in your stomach snaps and a rush of electricity zaps through your body. You clench on Cassidy and it feels as if you milk him of every drop of cum as his cum shoots, hot and thick into you. The aftershocks ripple through both your bodies as you fall forward onto Cassidy.  

After you both have caught your breath, you roll off of Cassidy to allow him to go to the bathroom. You can't help but stare at his bare ass as he walks away. You start to giggle before Cassidy turns back to you with a raised eyebrow. “I hate to see you leave, but i love to watch you go” He barks with laughter at what a horrible line that was. “You already got in my pants, you don't have to use bad pick up lines on me now.” You laugh at the savage rejection your brilliant line got. You stand on wobbly legs as you reach for a random shirt to wear to go to sleep in. Cassidy comes back from the bathroom with a washcloth and hands it to you and you wipe yourself off before throwing the cloth back towards the bathroom and curling up into bed. You notice Cassidy is still standing beside the bed not looking directly at you but darting his eyes around the room as if he's never been in a hotel before. You realize he’s debating whether to stay or go, so you make that decision for him by lifting up the blankets and patting the empty space. “Come on, cool guy, it's cuddle time.” He tries to hide it as he climbs in beside you but you see that small smile on his face as you pull him into your nest of comfort. “Hey Y/N?” you hear Cassidy ask after you turn the light off. “Yeah Orange?” your brows furrow slightly at what Cassidy could be gearing up to ask. “Are you wearing my shirt?” you breathe a sigh of relief at the simple question. “Um yeah” you say, gauging his reaction, silently hoping he's not mad. “Hm.. Cool” He pulls you closer as you start to fall asleep to the even beat of his heart.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Stripped

My heart is aching for my darling rat bastard since his breakdown after Wrestle Kingdom. I want him back in NJPW so much. Or failing that, I want him in AEW causing havoc. 

Pairing: Jay White x OFC

Word count: 3,914

Content advisory: Sexual situations (takes place in a strip club), language

The stage is littered with those stupid fucking plastic stars because the owner likes the effect of the girls moving through it. “Stardust” he calls it, like it’s supposed to make everything magical. A fucking hazard is what it is. The floor gets slippery during the night and those stupid things kill any kind of friction you might be able to get in the skyscraper platforms and stiletto heels you work in. So you and all the other girls who work here have to focus on not slipping on stardust while you’re also focusing on shaking your ass and gyrating just right for the drunk businessmen or frat boys or bachelor parties or vaguely creepy loners you rely on to pay your rent. A shift turns into this ninja-style obstacle course of trying not to get your legs broken by the owner’s preferred decorations and trying not to get your face broken by guys who think you owe them more than dancing. 

But it’s a fuck of a lot more lucrative than waitressing or telemarketing, which are the two jobs you’d be likely to get other than dancing, and you’d still get treated like garbage at those places. So you spend time between dances picking these stupid goddamned stars off of your boots, because you don’t want to make it more dangerous to work here than it has to be, and reminding yourself that you could do, and have done, worse. 

Tonight is what you’d call a good night: decent crowd, decent tips, enough turnover to ensure that no one gets too possessive, the clientele drunk enough to be generous but not so drunk as to be violent. So aside from the threat posed by the imitation stardust, you head out to your third dance of the night with a sense of confidence. That is, until you see him. 

You can immediately tell that he’s drunk, obstreperously drunk. He’s slumped into his chair, spread out in an ungainly fashion. The bouncers hover close by, knowing that he’s far enough along to cause trouble but he doesn’t. The waitresses continue serving him, which is a little surprising. The guy must be tipping a fortune. If the mark is generous enough, they’ll bring him drinks until he’s unconscious. They’re supposed to cut him off at a reasonable point and the bouncers are supposed to get him into a taxi, even if they have to take the money out of the register, but if the guy’s throwing enough money around, the servers will toss security a share to look the other way for a bit. 

You’re noticing all this while waiting your turn on stage because you can barely take your eyes off him. His long hair is pulled back into a messy half-ponytail and his beard looks scruffy but there’s something magnetic, something intense about him. Contrary to his body language, his eyes look clear and manic, darting around like he’s expecting someone to jump him at any moment. His shirt is already loose and has a few buttons open and the more he slides around on his chair, the more you’re able to see. And dear god what a treat it is to see. Every time he breathes, there’s a ripple of muscles in his chest that looks like something out of a superhero comic or romance novel. You move around so that you can get a better look at him from different angles and so that you aren’t just sitting by the bar, dumbstruck and practically drooling. 

By the time it’s your turn on stage, you’re so keyed up you’re worried that you’re going to forget what to do or end up wiping out on the star-shaped death traps on stage. Every girl is paying special attention to him because he’s pushing so much money at them. And a lot of them are probably thinking the same thing you are: that he’s young and gorgeous and the chances of getting that combined with that much money and being too sloppy drunk to pose a real threat is like finding the pot of gold at the end of the damn rainbow. You’re all essentially auditioning for the role of “girl he’s going to want to take to a room upstairs for a private dance” and you are determined to absolutely kill this audition. 

You know you look good and you know you can move with the best of them but in order to make your turn really special, you need to channel what he’s making you feel, you need to make him understand what he’s doing to you and you need him to know that you’re inviting him to do more. You usually like to stick to your planned routines because you’ll be more confident on your feet but this is all about getting closer to him, about eye contact and the scent of pheromones and trying to bait a perfect trap. 

He seems to recognize the extra effort you’re putting into your work and gives a crooked smile as he tosses money towards you. He’s not even looking at the denominations, just casually tossing bills on the stage. This is going to be a very profitable evening for you if he does nothing other than stay around for a while. But you want more than that. Up close, there’s an aura about him, equal parts spoiled brat and caged animal, something contemptuous about the way he sips his drink, surveys the surroundings, even the way he looks at you when proffering bills. But when the two of you lock eyes, there’s something else, this desire, a need in him that he wants you to fill. 

You slide gracefully down on all fours in front of him, still undulating to the music, moving close enough that you can speak to him without having to raise your voice. 

“Baby, if you want to have some real fun, you know you can ask for a private room,” you coo. 

“So people keep telling me,” he smirks. 

He obviously wants to see if you’ll be offended, if he’s managed to hurt your feelings by letting you know that you’re just one of many vying for his attention and his money. But his tone isn’t dismissive, it’s challenging. 

“Aw, are you trying to make me jealous, handsome?”

You raise yourself up on your knees, running your hands over your breasts, then down between your legs, never breaking eye contact. He keeps his arrogant expression fixed in place as he produces a few more bills, holding them out between his fingers. So you lean forward, stretching slowly, like a cat in the sun, making sure he can see how flexible you are. You take the bills between your teeth and as you feel his hold on them loosen, you make sure that the swell of your bottom lip brushes the tip of his finger. 

Spinning yourself around, you rise to your feet again in one smooth motion and start to back away as the last few bars of the song signal that your little audition is ending. You make sure to give him a last look and the hint of a smile as you step backstage. When you do, you immediately move so that you can see what he does. 

He downs his drink and spends a long few moments contemplating the glass as the next girl takes to the stage. His eyes drift up to her and he drops a few bills but then you see him beckon one of the staff over. You can’t help but smile. He’s asking for you, you can feel it. 

*

“Guy’s pretty loaded,” the security guard cautions you. 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “in more ways than one.”

The meat slab in a suit laughs at your joke and reassures you he’s there if you need him before he steps into the darkened booth at the end of the hall. It’s not something they advertise but the clubs keep cameras in the private rooms, so that security can keep an eye on things and take action if clients get out of line. Not every club does this, of course, and you’ve worked at some places where being in a private room meant you were on your own. This place is Fort Knox by comparison. 

You open the door where your Prince Charming is waiting for you. He’s sitting on one of the leather chairs, spread out like he owns the place, a bottle of scotch, the expensive stuff, sitting on the table next to him. Even in the low light you see his sparkling eyes lock on you. 

“Well it’s nice to see you again, handsome.”

You walk closer to him, loosening the robe that you’d thrown on before coming up. As it falls open, it catches on your breasts, the diaphanous fabric just barely covering your nipples, which grow hard at the sensation. 

“You’re the lucky girl who gets me to herself tonight,” he slurs. 

You spread your legs so that they’re on either side of his as you bend over to him. The fabric of your robe brushes against his skin as you bow your head close to whisper, “I feel pretty lucky right now.”

You step back and press a button to start the music, allowing the robe to fall from you as you start to sway for him. You don’t get too close, not right away. Building anticipation is always the best, watching that hunger build in a man’s eyes, all the more so because this one is so arrogant and full of himself as well as being gorgeous. You want to see just how worked up you can get him. So you hang back just a little, letting him watch the way the soft light plays on your skin and the movement of your hands over your body. 

After a couple of minutes of this, he gives a slow clap and pulls out more money for you. 

“You don’t have to do that here,” you remind him. “You’re all paid up.”

“Yeah, well I want to make sure I get the best service.”

“That’s what I’m here for, honey.”

“Jay,” he snaps. 

You give him a little frown, not exactly sure what he means. 

“My name,” he clarifies, as if you’re stupid for not understanding. “Not baby, not honey, not handsome. My name is Jay White.”

A circuit connects in your head as you hear him. 

“Jay White. You’re a wrestler. I’ve heard of you.”

“I’m not just “a” wrestler. I’m the best on the fucking planet.”

“Well then I really am lucky.”

You can hear the tension in his voice and the sooner you can stop this line of conversation and get him back to thinking about your body, the better. You move closer and gyrate slowly downward and back up just in front of him, your hands resting on the arms of the chair just a couple of inches from his. 

He still has the money in his hand and his expression remains sour. 

“Take it,” he nods towards the bills. “I’m a rich man. I can buy whatever the hell I want.”

You smile and shake your head. “You don’t have to do anything. Just relax and enjoy. Not that I don’t love that sexy accent.”

“Oh really? What kind of accent is it?”

It’s starting to feel like he’s brought you in here just to pick a fight, which is throwing you off your rhythm in every sense and also frustrating because it’s not making him any less attractive to you. You keep your slight smile as you lean close to him. 

“It’s a New Zealand accent.”

“You sure it’s not Australian?”

You nod. “I spent a couple of summers working in Australia and New Zealand. I can always tell the difference.”

He pushes his face close to yours, the scent of alcohol so strong that you feel like you’re going to get drunk from the fumes. “Were you working as a whore there too?”

Instead of responding, you pout a little and give him a sad look. At first, he scoffs but after a few seconds, his body relaxes a bit and he looks, if not apologetic, at least happy to move on. 

“Well, show me what you can do, then,” he drawls, taking another drink of scotch. 

You’re happy to oblige, winding your body around him in a serpentine fashion, making sure he’s close enough to feel the heat radiating from you, even pushing your hips close enough that he might be able to smell how turned on you are by him. And that’s only augmented by the feeling of his breath against your thighs, or the low moans that escape him when you hold yourself precariously close, barely respecting the rules of not touching that exist here. 

The music is slower than what plays in the club, sinuous and sensual and you move in perfect time with it, your body flowing like water around him. His thirst is palpable. You catch him adjusting himself or rubbing his palm against his groin with increasing frequency and the more turned on he seems to get, the more lustful you make your movements. 

You’re bent over him, drinking in the sound of his panting and grunting, when he speaks again. 

“I quit my job today,” he grumbles. 

You’re a little offended that he can detach himself so easily from the moment but when you look at him, his expression hasn’t changed, like what he’s going through here is linked somehow to what he’s done. 

“Why did you do that, hon- Jay?”

He smiles when you correct yourself and leans close, his breath condensing between your breasts for a few seconds before he responds. 

“Because I’m too fucking good for them.”

You don’t know who “them” means but you know better than to tell him that. 

“So they don’t deserve you,” you purr. 

“Goddamned right they don’t. Look at all this money I’ve got. Doesn’t mean a fucking thing if I don’t have respect.”

“Why wouldn’t they respect you?”

 He snaps his leg to one side, hitting your knee and almost making you collapse on top of him. 

“Come closer,” he whispers. 

You’re not really sure how much closer you can get without breaking the rules, but you incline your head close to his, so that his lips are next to your ear. 

“They don’t know what they have in me,” he hisses. “They don’t know how fucking lucky they are, how much I’ve given up for them. They just want to make me the leader of the fools in their company because they think that’s the best I can do. But you don’t think that, do you?”

His eyes glitter like a tiger in the jungle shade but you meet his gaze and don’t look away. 

“No,” you tell him, “you look like a damn rock star. You look like a king.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

He smiles and runs his hand up the back of your thigh, grabbing your ass and holding you in place while he grips your arm with his other hand. He presses his lips against the skin of your inner arm, lightly trailing kisses over the sensitive flesh before giving a sharp bite to your wrist. 

You give a little cry just as the door slams open and the security guard who’d accompanied you up here bursts into the room. 

“We got a problem here?” he roars. 

Jay slumps back in his chair with a defeated expression, like he’s preparing himself to be thrown out of the club by his hair. You rise as gracefully as you can and go to the guard, who’s obviously waiting for you to signal what needs to be done. 

“It’s ok,” you tell him calmly. You walk up to him so that your conversation won’t be overheard. “I kind of goaded him on.”

It’s not really true that you goaded him but it is true that you’ve been wanting him to touch you all night and it’s possible that he picked up on that. 

“Looks like he got a bit grabby.”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem for me.”

You keep your eyes trained on Jay, who’s watching your interaction with the beefy man and obviously trying to figure out what’s going on. In return, the security guard scowls at him and cuts a serious look at you. 

“You want me to turn off the camera?”

There it is, the magic question. The women who work here are dancers, strippers, and their job is only to move in an erotic way, to excite their clients. They’re kept secure by the presence of cameras that alert security if a client is getting out of line, if he’s breaking the rules by actually laying hands on one of the dancers. But there’s what’s allowed and what’s really allowed and that question is at the heart of it. 

The cameras protect the women but they also protect the club: they prove that all that’s going on in the private rooms is dancing and titillation, not prostitution. But if a woman wants to, she can tell security to turn off the camera for a while, meaning there’s no record of what happens. None of the girls are obliged to do it, and the official position of the club is that it’s not allowed, so if you get caught, they’ll fire you immediately. But if you’re ok with offering more than just a dance and willing to give the security guard a cut of the earnings, he’ll shut off the camera in the room and you can do whatever you want with your client. 

You’re not actually planning on charging Jay White anything more unless he wants something really kinky but you’ve already made so much money off him that you can cut the guard in and still have a great night. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, never taking your eyes off Jay, “that’s what I want.”

“It’s done,” the guard grunts. As he turns to leave, he gives your bicep a little squeeze. “You know I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

The financial details will get worked out later. Not all of the guards are so mellow but this guy, nicknamed “Bob” by the girls, is old school. He knows you have to bend the rules to make ends meet and knows that no one is making a fortune from what happens here. He never tries to shake the girls down, never assumes that being off-camera means he can just pretend the room is empty. He’s the perfect person to have working at this moment for you. It’s like fate. 

He leaves without another word and you stand in place until you see the tiny red light in the corner go out. Then you walk back over to Jay, bracing your arms on the chair so that you’re hovering just above him. 

“So what does that mean?” He nods towards the camera, apparently having noticed you looking at it. 

“You mean the little red light?”

“The little red light that’s gone out.”

“Well that means that you and I have some privacy, Jay White. That means that the rules are relaxed a little.”

He smiles a little and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto his lap and giving you a nice preview of coming attractions. Yes, you think, the trailer definitely makes you want to see the movie. You continue to grind in rhythm with the background music but you’re no longer pretending that it’s the focus of your attention. Instead you lean in and press your lips to his, softly letting your tongue slide into his mouth and weaving your fingers into his hair. The kiss is every bit as electric, as passionate, and as needy as you’d hoped. The two of you remain lost in it, moaning and sighing, your bodies writhing against each other, seeking greater contact. 

It’s him who finally pulls back, his eyes hardly focusing as he runs his hands up and down your back. Finally, he pulls you close to him and buries his head in your chest, kissing every bit of flesh he can reach from your collarbone to your breast. When his mouth reaches your nipple, he locks his lips around it, licking, sucking, even nipping at the taut bud as his hands squeeze greedily at your back. 

He bites down sharply and you cry out at the pain, trying to twist away from him, but he’s more than strong enough to hold you in place. He swirls and flicks his tongue over the offended flesh, sighing and mewling as he does. The gentleness of his touches is enough to resolve any hesitation on your part, and you let your head fall back, moaning at the sensations he’s giving you. 

It’s a couple of minutes before you realize that your skin is wetter than it should be and you pull back, your first thought being that you’re bleeding from his bite. His head falls against your chest when you move and it’s then that you realize that he’s crying. Under normal circumstances, you’d ask him what was wrong, but this seems anything but normal, so you thread your fingers deeper in his dark hair and scratch gently at his scalp. 

“I just gave up on the only thing I’ve ever wanted,” he sobs, the tears coming harder. 

“Because they didn’t see the value in you.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen to me.”

His arms close tight around you and you can’t help pressing kisses all along the side of his head, down his neck as far as you can reach. 

“What if they’re right? What if I’m not as good as I think I am?”

You force yourself back so that you can look him straight in the eyes. 

“Stop it. You know that’s not true. You know you’re one of the greats because you came in here and fucking told me so yourself.” He looks at you with a forlorn expression. “Don’t let assholes make you think you’re worth less than you are.”

In one smooth movement, he stands up and sets you on your feet, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist so that the two of you are dancing like teenagers in high school. You pull him close and bury your head in the hollow of his shoulder, the way you always imagined yourself doing with your crushes back in the day. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he rasps. 

“You’re gonna be fine, baby,” you reassure him, completely unsure why you feel that way. “You’re gonna be great at whatever you do.”

“You mean it?” He pulls you tighter against him and buries his face in your shoulder. 

“Absolutely.”

“So are you gonna stay with me until I get on my feet again?”

You’re aware that it’s the alcohol talking, that he’s reached the stage where he’s willing to grab onto anything that looks like a stable point in a flood, and it hurts a little that you really mean what you’re about to say. 

“You’re damn right I will. I want to see just how far you can go.”

He smiles against your skin and pulls you even closer. The two of you sway back and forth to the music, languishing in the temporary security of each other’s bodies. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXLI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: That’s right PoA gifs are making a comeback -Danny

Words: 3,121

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Three: A Brief Talk.

Mel was packing up the stuff she'd taken to the mission when someone knocked on the front door. 

She heard Erick said he'd get it a second later. Mel put everything in her bag and hung it over her shoulder, rushing out of her room. Dumbledore stared at them with a smile.

"I must say you worked faster than expected."

"We did our best — Oh!" Erick went to the living room and grabbed his bag, drawing out the men's wands. "These are from the death eaters — maybe you'll be able to track them down?"

"I could, if Ollivander hadn't gone missing," Dumbledore said sadly. Mel didn't ask about it, she wasn't ready for any more bad news. "Anything I should know?"

"Yeah," Mel approached. "I'm upset."

Dumbledore gazed at her quietly.

"I said I'd tell you everything and I will, but you must wait a bit longer. We'll visit Harry's house tonight, and pay a visit to Slughorn."

"You said we couldn't talk to him."

"This time will be different. This time I'll go with you."

"How wonderful," Mel said sarcastically.

"I'll get my stuff," Erick gave her a look that was meant to stop her rudeness.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, "do close the door on your way out, Mr Flint."

She followed him out in silence, her uncle approached the entrance of the Dursley's house and knocked on it.

"Were you in danger?"

"No."  

"Then you know I didn't lie."

"You didn't tell us everything," She replied. "You keep withholding information and I'm not some disposable thing you can use as you please —"

"That was never my intention," Dumbledore interrupted. "By the end of the year you'll know all, and you'll understand why I've acted this way."

Mel seriously doubted that but she'd been proven wrong before, she was willing to hear his side of the story.

Mr Dursley complained all the way to the door, he opened it abruptly, freezing at the sight.

"Good evening. You must be Mr Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for him?"

Harry rushed down the stairs and stopped at a considerable distance from his uncle. He looked torn between amusement and panic, holding a pair of trainers in one hand and a telescope in the other.

The young witch eyed Mr Dursley up and down and held back a smirk. He was wearing a reddish dressing-gown. The last time she'd been standing this close to the man he'd looked gigantic, now he was barely able to reach her nose.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that we were coming," Dumbledore said happily. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times. It is a long time since my last visit, I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing. What do you think, Mel?"

"Oh, it's been years," Her voice trembled with contained laughter. "The house looks exactly as I remember, though. Is your chimney still the same after the Weasleys burst through it?"

Harry snorted at this, and this caught the old man's attention.

"Ah, good evening Harry... Excellent, excellent."

"I don't mean to be rude —" Mr Dursley spoke.

"— yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often. Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia— Albus Dumbledore, we have corresponded, of course. And this must be your son, Dudley?"

Mel looked at the boy, it had been almost two years since she'd last seen him: He was muscly big, with the body of a trained wrestler. She didn't like that he'd be able to kill a child with his bare hands and call it a sport.

"Shall we assume that you have invited us into your sitting room?

Dumbledore crossed the hall and she followed, Harry jumped the last steps and approached them.

"Aren't — aren't we leaving?" He inquired.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first. And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer."

"You will, will you?" The Dursleys were all glaring at them.

"Yes, I shall."

He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

"We may as well be comfortable."

"Sir," Harry started anxiously. "What happened to your — ?"

"Later, Harry. Please sit down."

The boy looked at her searching for an answer, but she had none. It was her first time seeing Dumbledore's injury as well. She walked up to the armchair and stood next to where her uncle had seated. Harry sat in front of them.

"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment, but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness."

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-coloured liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room.

"Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore.

Mel took her glass and inhaled the sweet scent before drinking it, hiding her grin. She was starting to feel less annoyed now that Dumbledore was torturing the Dursleys with his displays of magic.

"Well, a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all, I must tell you, kids, that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago."

"Oh. Right..." Harry muttered.

"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward. You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit a few of Sirius's personal possessions. Emily knows this of course, but Sirius left the other half of his gold to you and your brother, Mel. As well as the rest of his belongings, which you'll be able to use once you're of age."

It was obvious Leon was going to inherit stuff from Sirius, the man was eager to provide for his new family, he wanted to be there, make sure his son would never be left to his luck.

"The slightly problematic part of the legacy —"

"His godfather's dead?" Mr Dursley interrupted. "He's dead? His godfather?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore without further explanation. "Our problem is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place. To the three of you."

"He's been left a house?" Mr Dursley questioned.

"He's not done talking," Mel snapped, Mr Dursley turned purple at her statement.

"You can keep using it as headquarters," said Harry. "I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it."

"Me neither," Mel accepted. "I don't need it, nor I think my brother will want to use it once he's old enough."

"Brother?" Mrs Dursley asked in bewilderment.

"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated the building temporarily."

"Why?"

"Well, Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.' Your brother should be the one to take it, but we can't be sure if the rules apply since Emily and Sirius decided to use her last name. While Sirius' will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

"I bet there has," Harry lamented.

"Quite. And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry stood up in distress.

"No..."

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either. The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally, we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position."

"But how are you going to find out if we're allowed to own it?"

"Fortunately, there is a simple test."

"Will you get these ruddy things off us?" Mr Dursley yelled.

Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere.

"Oh, I'm so sorry... But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know."

Mel left her glass on the coffee table and waited.

"You see," Dumbledore continued, "if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited..."

There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and covered in grimy rags.  Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory.

"Kreacher," said Dumbledore.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't! Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the brats and the Black bastard! Kreacher won't, won't, won't —"

"As you can see," said Dumbledore over the yelling, "Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership."

"I don't care," said Harry with repulsion. "I don't want him."

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"No," Mel replied, "we need him far from them."

"Give him an order," said Dumbledore. "If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress."

"Won't, won't, won't, WON'T !"

"Kreacher, shut up!" Harry demanded.

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum.

"Well, that simplifies matters," said Dumbledore brightly. "It seems that Sirius knew what he was doing. You three are the rightful owners of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher."

"Wonderful, I own a haunted mansion," Mel sat heavily on the armrest of Dumbledore's chair.

"Do we have to keep him with us?" Harry asked.

"Not if you don't want to. If I might make a suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him."

"Yeah," said Harry, "yeah, let's do that. Er — Kreacher — I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves."

"You're not allowed to leave your duties unless we ask you otherwise," Mel added.

Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

"Good. There is also the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different arrangements —"

"No," said both of them, then Harry added, "He can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak would prefer that."

"Hagrid will be delighted. He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him 'Witherwings' for the time being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the hippogriff they once sentenced to death. Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?"

"Erm..." Harry blushed.

"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore smiled.

"I'll just go and — er — finish off," said Harry, picking up his telescope and trainers.

"I'll help," Mel said.

It was the first time she'd ever been in his room. The only time she'd managed to look around was when they rescued him on the Ford Anglia. It was evident this was the only place in the house Harry was allowed to exist freely: A bit messy from running around and packing everything in a hurry, but she didn't mind it at all.

"Cozy," She teased.

"Shut it," He replied, hastily picking up his stuff. "I should've known... of course he wouldn't leave me..."

"You had your reasons to doubt," She shrugged, then added. "We both do..."

Harry stopped and looked at her, but she wasn't in the mood to talk. Mel helped him pack and soon enough everything was in place, she grabbed Hedwig's cage and smiled at the creature.

"Hi there..." She looked back at him. "I'll never forget the look on your uncle's face when we arrived, he looked so frightened!"

"I'm glad I don't have to stay," He picked up his stuff and guided her out. "Because he would murder me if I did..."

Mel snorted, following him to the hall. However, Dumbledore hadn't moved.

"Professor?" Harry spoke. "I'm ready now."

"Good. Just one last thing, then... As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year's time —"

"No," said Mrs Dursley.

"I'm sorry?" said Dumbledore.

"No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next."

"Ah," He smiled, "but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen."

"Preposterous," mumbled Vernon.

"Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."

Dumbledore's air changed, and although it wasn't obvious, he was once again emanating power, now more than ever he looked like a man no one should try to upset.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. I'm thankful Emily agreed to move in next door all those years ago and relieved a bit of Harry's misery. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

"Us — mistreat Dudders? What d'you — ?"

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

Mel would've loved to add a few insults of her own, but she knew there was no use, they would never learn, would never feel guilty for treating Harry the way they did and to be honest, Dumbledore was right, Mel and her mother were his real family.

"Well... time for us to be off," said Dumbledore, standing up. "Until we meet again."

Mel looked at them one last time without saying anything, something in her felt different, there was a bittersweet emotion that kept her from enjoying herself, and at the same time stopped her from snapping.

"Bye," said Harry shortly.

"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand and pointing it towards the boy's trunk and owl. "I shall send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak... just in case. And now, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."

Erick was waiting patiently against the front of her mother's car. His backpack was hanging from one shoulder, and when he saw them he quickly approached.

"All good?"

"Yes, we just wanted to chat a moment before leaving."

"Chat?" Erick raised a brow, he knew the Dursleys weren't friendly people.

"We'll explain later. C'mon, time to go."

"We're not taking the car?"

"No," said Dumbledore. "It'll be faster if we use magic. Keep your wand at the ready."

"But I thought we're not allowed to use magic outside school, sir?" Harry asked.

"If there is an attack," said Dumbledore, "I give you and Mel permission to use any counter jinx or curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry about being attacked tonight."

"Why not, sir?"

"You are with me... This will do."

He stopped at the end of the street.

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," he said.

"No," said Harry. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do," said Dumbledore. "So you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly. My left, if you don't mind — as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment."

Erick looked down briefly at his hand and paled.

"Professor, I passed my apparition test last month, I can take Mel so you don't tire yourself out."

The idea of Dumbledore 'tiring himself out' was laughable, but Mel didn't want Erick to feel stupid, and it appeared that Dumbledore was of the same mind.

"Very well, Mr Flint, if it's not much trouble..."

"It's not."

"You know where to go."

Erick offered his arm to her.

"Ready?"

"Like we have a choice," She groaned, firmly holding onto him.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha​​ @vampiregirl1797​​ @siriuslysirius1107​​ @stardusthigh​​ @mikariell95​​ @vernon-dursley​​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​​ @tomshollandz​​ @wlwmaximoff​​ @reverse-hxlland​​ @hamiltonwc​​ @omiwashere​​ @t-rexs-world​​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs​​ @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee​​ @thelastpyle​ @cedricisnotdead​

[jaydcstories]

Read this and other stories on my blog: JOHN DEE COOPER'S ALL-MALE SLAVERY STORIES

PAULO by John Dee Cooper © 2020

Chapter 10 ‘LEON’S STORY’

Leon was born somewhere in the depths of Africa. Where exactly he wasn’t sure because when he was seven years old his village was burnt to the ground by slave hunters.

They took everyone, the whole tribe, men, women and children. They were bound and fettered and led across country, naked, some of them dying from exposure, some beaten to death. The ones that were too weak to go on were abandoned, left to starve or to be eaten by wild animals. Those that had the strength and good fortune to survive were put up for sale at various slave markets along the way. Leon’s parents were the first to be sold, then his sister and his two older brothers. After that he was on his own.

He was sold and resold so many times over the next few years that very soon he could hardly remember what his family looked like, let alone his birthplace. He’d become an insignificant object, a nameless child, handed around from one cruel Master to another — until he was about the age of ten. He’d grown considerably by then and acquired some tough young muscles that were beginning to attract attention.

It was around this time, at an Algerian slave market, that he was spotted by an agent of the American Government who was struck by the boy’s physical development, especially in one so young. He had him shipped over to the United States and installed him as a house slave at the White House.

Life wasn’t too bad for a while. He was fed well and given a smart uniform to wear. His chores were mostly carrying messages and running errands. He was hard working and disciplined and responded well to punishment when it was called for, which was not often. It’s not surprising that eventually his obedience and good looks caught the eye of the President who immediately took a liking to him. He became the President’s personal slave, accompanying him everywhere. This was a highly honoured position for any slave and Leon served proudly and diligently earning his Master’s care and affection. This was perhaps the happiest time of young Leon’s life.

But Presidents come and go, while Leon was government property and had to serve them all whatever their personal or political needs. Mostly they kept him to themselves, but eventually he found he had a Master with radically new ideas.

This president’s primary concern was the promotion of the American slave trade and he was keen to exploit the young Negro’s rare physical beauty. He had the boy, who was by now a full blooded, muscular and very well-endowed fifteen-year-old, to be stripped naked and paraded in front of visitors and dignitaries from across the world so that they could admire the finest of American slave stock. He was fitted with a solid gold collar and a matching gold cock ring and his stunning physique and smooth ebony skin won many admirers. In fact, it wasn’t long before he was being offered as a plaything to visiting VIPs for their private amusement.

I couldn’t help wondering how this sudden change in his treatment might have affected Leon. He just shrugged it off when we asked him. But it must have been a huge shock  to suddenly find himself on public display —  totally naked, for strangers to gape at and admire — even to touch and fondle.  And he had to learn very quickly how to satisfy all kinds of sexual appetites. Matters of state sometimes depended on it. If a visiting emissary or a difficult senator was causing a problem, Leon would be dispatched to his hotel room to help soothe the waters. It must have been a strange and awesome sight, this handsome black boy striding naked down the busy corridors of power, or being passed around amongst the honoured guests at a state reception. Other slaves were found to join him in these arduous duties, but Leon was the first and remained the most popular.

However hard it was to adjust to this new role — and at first it must have been as terrifying as it was humiliating — he took advantage of the special status it gave him by spending as much time as he could working out and building up his body until by the time he was nineteen he had a physique that was the envy of his fellow slaves and the delight of all those that managed to get their hands on it.

But there was growing criticism in some quarters that the White House was becoming too extravagant and stringent measures were introduced by a new administration to cut back on all but the most essential slaves. Leon had just turned twenty when it was decided that he was surplus to requirements.

He was saved the indignation of being exposed to public auction by the intervention of a senior official who was taking early retirement and was planning to spend his financial settlement on setting up a slave rodeo. It had been a lifetime dream of his, and he was able to purchase Leon at a very favourable rate as his star turn.

Like Pepe’s pony thing, we’d never heard of a slave rodeo, so, to save Leon the trouble, Pepe gave us a quick but breathtaking run down of what they were about.

A slave rodeo is a kind of travelling circus, but with slaves instead of animals and acrobats and clowns. There are sideshows were you can watch slaves at work or being tortured and customers can pay to operate the machinery or practice their own skills with a whip. They can even hire slaves by the hour and submit them to ordeals of their own devising.

The main attraction, though, is the central arena where the public can pit their own slaves against the rodeo’s livestock in races and contests of endurance. There are chariot races (with the slaves pulling the chariots of course), and races where the slaves have to sprint across assault courses with loads of varying weights tied on their backs. There’s even one where the slaves have to race carrying riders like jockeys. There are endurance contests where the slaves have to hold enormous weights above their heads while being teased with cattle prods and beaten with canes. There are torture games where they find the slave who can endure pain the longest before making a sound. There are crucifixions and stake outs and burials up to the head — just about everything you can imagine — even gladiatorial combat like in the old Roman days. It all sounded incredible to us, but Leon was the living proof that it was true and nodded proudly as we listened enthralled — and not a little terrified (after all, we were slaves now and who knows if we might not one day end up at a rodeo!). Leon was with the rodeo for five long years, travelling the States and South America facing brutalising punishment every day of his life but never losing his natural instinct for survival.

Too begin with his owner confined him to the booths were he could be kept on show to draw the crowds. Then, after some intense training and preparation he put him the arena where he excelled at almost all the events and became a great attraction, triumphing against all challengers. With determination and discipline he grew stronger and ever more resilient until he became the rodeo's undisputed showpiece. He would march proudly into the arena at the head of the other slaves, his head held high, his beautifully sculpted muscles glistening in the sun, and his hefty cock swaying stiffly against his neatly hanging balls. What a sight he must have been!

But all good things must come to an end. The owner of the rodeo developed a taste for gambling and in a rash moment while he was in South America he lost Leon in a wager over a game of pontoon. It’s horrid to think that your fate can be determined by a gambler’s idle whim, but I suppose that’s what happens to slaves. It happened to Leon. I suppose it could happen to me.

Leon’s new owner was a Spanish businessman who specialised in the financial exploitation of slaves. He brought Leon back to Spain with him and trained him up as a wrestler. But after a few months he decided he could make more money by renting him out as a stud.  

The more I learned about this dark new world I was trapped in, the more incredible and terrifying it seemed to get. Pepe filled us in on a lot of the details of what followed, otherwise Leon would probably have just shrugged it off as of little consequence. But it made me shudder to think that slaves like Leon — and  I suppose like all of us — are really little more than livestock and can only expect to be treated like farm animals.

And so for the next three years Leon was rented out as a stud, to breed with female slaves all over Spain. His class-one physique, his strength and proven endurance made him excellent pedigree and highly desirable and he was always in demand, fetching a high price for his semen and siring a whole new generation of healthy young slaves and making his owner very rich.

Usually he was rented out for just twenty-four hours, but hardly a week went by without at least three or four breeding sessions. He was fed supplements and chemicals to ensure that his supply of semen kept flowing. He had to practice hard to maintain a peak level of performance, and on the rare occasion that he failed to meet the demands put on him, he would be whipped mercilessly. I’m surprised he lasted three years!

And yet the amazing thing is, in all that time he never once made physical contact with a female slave. Sometimes he was just locked away in a barn with a machine strapped to his cock pumping out his semen, which was immediately frozen and stored. Other times he would be “milked” by hand, the hirer taking pleasure in manipulating that magnificent body himself.

In smaller homesteads, where there were probably only one or two female slaves to impregnate, Leon’s arrival would be treated as something of a local event. He would be paraded before the family and their guests, some of whom might entertain themselves by taking it in turns to “milk” him - always being careful to catch and preserve every last precious drop of semen. Sometimes the female slaves (or “dams”) would be brought in so that the family could admire them alongside Leon and imagine how handsome and strong the offspring were going to be.

However, it’s a fundamental rule that the stud’s cock should never actually enter the dam. This isn’t just a health issue, it’s supposed to be a compassionate one. It’s supposed to prevent the slaves from forging an attachment — at least that’s the theory. But necessity is the mother of invention and a whole culture of merriment has built up around these events. So the female might be stretched out naked on the floor and Leon made to stand over her and masturbate, dropping his semen on her stomach so that it could be immediately scooped up and inserted artificially; or he might be suspended above her, his cock dangling inches from her body while guests jacked him off; or family members might have fun arousing the female with their fingers while Leon’s cock was being stroked so that their bodies heaved in unison. Wagers would be made about the length of time it would take for Leon to cum, or how much noise he would make, or how far he could shoot — there were hundreds of variations, apparently! And they all sounded horrific! I hope I never end up a stud.

While we were being told all this, we couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at Leon and imagine his great muscular body humping away and that mighty engorged cock (which always seemed to be in a state of semi or full erection whenever I looked at him) thumping and spurting cum everywhere while onlookers cheered and slapped his backside to urge him on. It was an image that haunted my dreams for days after.

Anyway, Leon’s story ends like Pepe’s. The Spanish businessman added Pepe to his stable and after a short time went bankrupt. All his slaves had to be sold and for some reason Pepe and Leon were being shipped as a single lot to an auction house in England.    

[calorieworkouts]

How to do sumo squats—AKA the best butt-sculpting move you`re probably not using

No lower-body exercise is total without at least one collection of squats. Like your other toning essentials (read: planks, push-ups, and lunges), these butt-sculpting moves can be found in a wide variety of tough variations. One of the most-fun (as well as reliable) iterations of this useful workout is the sumo squat-- so called for its resemblance to the pre-match posturing of Japanese specialist wrestlers.

This wide-legged take on a traditional squat will give you all the feels in your inner upper legs, glutes, and also hamstrings, no weights required. If you're looking for even more of a difficulty, you can tip it up by adding on the extra pounds. And also if you're questioning just how exactly to implement one yourself, Felicia Oreb as well as Diana Johnson, the Aussie personal trainers (and also sis) behind Base Body Babes, have actually obtained the, ahem, reduced down. The duo shared their professional suggestions on Instagram earlier this week.

Scroll down to see just how to perform 3 different variations of a sumo squat like the Base Body Babes.

1. Traditional sumo squat

Bring your feet a step farther than hips-width apart and also turn your toes somewhat out to ensure that your knees track over your second as well as third toes. Cross your arms, bringing them identical to the ground at shoulder height. Crouch down, bringing your butt listed below your knees, while maintaining a neutral spine (sitz bones flared and tiny arch in lower back), core engaged, and power prolonging out of your crown. Align your legs and pertain to stand. Total 5 collections of 20 reps. If you have trouble keeping your spine and arms stable while squatting deeply, attempt the following variation.

2. Sumo squats with plates

To start off, area two plates next to each other on the flooring-- this maintains you steady and able to maintain far better form. Tip your heels onto home plates and presume the exact same setting as a traditional sumo squat. Full 5 sets of 20 reps.

3. Weighted sumo squat

Grab a 10 to 12-pound dumbbell, holding one end in either hand at shoulder height instead of crossing your arms. Complete 5 sets of 20 reps of typical sumo crouches. Just be prepared to really feel the additional burn.

For a lot more butt-sculpting benefits, take a look at these moves from buzzy instructor Charlee Atkins and the women of Tone It Up.

[sepublic]

Tawahi

Tawahi is a village built upon a series of flattened, hill-like plains near the base of a stable, active volcano, named Mount Mangai. Mangai is constantly, steadily, streaming a flow of lava, with two streams of lava having been diverted to flow past and around Tawahi in the form of a moat- Skull Spiders are vulnerable to the extreme heat of lava, with only Armored Spiders surviving initially, before melting under the blazing temperatures like their brethren.

           Caught between these two lethal rivers, the Tawahans manage to exit and enter Tawahi by using cranes built atop the walls surrounded by the lava moat. These cranes hoist massive platforms to carry passengers over the lava moat to either side of the steaming river. Like the bridges of Kokoro, the Tawahan cranes are carefully monitored, and improvements are always being made to make the cranes faster, more accurate, and more stable.

           Past the massive walls, made from a mixture of recently-forged metal and stone, is the main village of Tawahi. Tawahi is divided into three, flattened slopes, each one leading to another with a sloping dirt path. Atop these hills, the people of Tawahi have built a village of various huts and buildings, all of them designed to withstand the heat, be more or less fireproof, and likewise allow maximum ventilation and cooling with conditioners created by Marn engineers and fueled by Kokoran Bitterbite.

           Tawahans specialize in blacksmithing, as the nearby plethora of accessible, extreme heat allows them to heat up their forges. Countless blacksmith shops are scattered throughout Tawahi, where metals and ores mined from Marn are brought in by the Gukko Airforce to be melted down and reforged into the proper tools and materials, before being delivered back to the rest of Okoto for use. Swords, hammers, and other metallic tools of the finest, highest quality are born and/or re-forged here, leading some to dub Tawahi as the new City of the Mask Makers.

           This steady stream of metal, some used for more luxury purposes, has outfitted the Tawahan Guard with a constant supply of the latest armors and weapons, making the Tawahi Military amongst the most well-armed in all of Okoto. Aside from melting down ores, though, the latent heat bubbling within the Region of Fire is also used for another purpose- The famous, beloved Tawahi Hot Springs!

           The Tawahi Hot Springs are exactly what their names imply them to be- A series of pools of water that are heated up by the underground heat to soothing temperatures. In the Tawahi Hot Springs, many elders and other experts tend to visitors, often supplying them with back massages and other special treatments, taking care to utilize the pumice found in the Region of Fire, as well as other materials. Many who visit the Tawahi Hot Springs leave feeling reportedly fresher and more energetic, as if their whole being has been rekindled and cleansed. Members of the Tawahan Guard are given discounts to the Hot Springs, and Gukko Airforce pilots are always treated to a relaxing massage and therapy as thanks for their hard work, before being sent off to fly the skies of Okoto once more.

           Despite its harsh heat, the Region of Fire continues to kindle the flame of life and survival for Okotans yet again- The nearby soil produced by the volcanoes is incredibly fertile, constantly being requested for by various farmers across Okoto. Lava Farmers use the fertile soil produced by volcanoes to breed healthy crops that contribute either to Tawahan cuisine, or the nutrition of the other Mega Villages.

           Aside from Levato, Tawahi is the second-most popular home for Kolhii. Other forms of entertainment include Ignalu Surfing, as well as the famous Tawahan Fireworks; Powdered rockets that when lit soar into the air and detonated in the most dazzling, colorful arrays of light. Needless to say, Tawahi’s exports usually consist of its newly-forged ores, fertile soils, the occasional vegetable or fruit, and fireworks. Materials for an at-home Spa therapy and treatment is also sold by the Tawahan Hot Springs, with the majority of funds going into supporting the Tawahan Military. Tawahi is also known for its delicious, fire-roasted cuisine. Barbecue, hot pot, roasts, etc.,- Tawahi has it all, and cooking competitions are a frequent event. Every now and then, Tawahi will hold a massive potluck where villagers can go about, trying out the roasted foods that others have to offer. All of these attractions have made Tawahi a popular tourist site for vacations and relaxation, one of its specialties.

           Tawahi is overlooked by Narmoto, the current Protector of Fire, village leader, and an Okotan with a mysterious past and a strange, seemingly sentient turret grafted to his spine. Narmoto claims he randomly found it in an abandoned temple, where it attached itself to him- Attempts to reverse-engineer his turret have ended poorly, with most agreeing to leave it alone lest Narmoto suffer for it. Like Marn, Tawahi is mostly military-run, although to a lesser extent, by the Tawahan Military.

           Many Okotans are stoked by blazes of the Region of Fire in Tawahi. Among them is Aft, a veteran of the Tawahan Military, who now dedicates his remaining life as a therapist, usually for soldiers suffering from PTSD. Having achieved peace through rediscovered books on meditation and mental and emotional health delivered from Kokoro, Aft sits down with his patients, listening to them about their nightmares and problems, and helping them calm down and confront their emotions. Aft is always quick to note that courage is not fearlessness, but rather being scared, and going on ahead regardless. His words always inspire many to continue their duties in defending Tawahi.

           Brander is a stout blacksmith, and one of Tawahi’s best, with Jaller of the Military preferring his tools most. Constantly supervising his forge, he crafts all manner of weapons, and more mundane tools, from the constant supplies of ore shipped in from Marn. Using the transferred heat from the lava moat, Brander softens his materials and reshapes them to his heart’s content, and has had made many luxury items and jewelry in conjunction with crafters from Marn and smelted art with Levan carvers. Brander is also a bit of an experimental barbecue chef, using his stove to try barbecuing all manner of ingredients from across Okoto.

           Aodhan is an elderly lady who works at the Tawahi Hot Springs, supervising guests to ensure that they achieve maximum comfort and relief in the bubbling soak. Aodhan also specializes in massages of many kind, as well as skin treatments, and she frequently thanks visitors with a specially-wrapped treat of her famous lava cookies, freshly baked!

           Binyo is the head chef at his famous grill, where he cooks right in front of the customer over an open stove, often amusing many with his famous ‘Onion Volcano’ trick. Binyo treats the business of his art very seriously, prioritizing speed, freshness, quality, and entertainment. Binyo is currently looking to train an apprentice, as his son has invested in a career as a Sumo wrestler.

           Tiribomba is, as his name might imply, a pyrotechnics expert. While he does dabble in explosives in collaboration with others across Okoto, from Pekka of Leva to Nuparu of Marn, his main passion and dream career is creating fireworks with his family. Hailing from a long family line, Tiribomba’s family holds a secret on how to make the brightest, most varied, and most complex patterns in a firework. Their ‘Family Recipe’ is coveted by many, but Tiribomba insists that they marry a relative –or even himself, ha!- before they can learn his family’s hidden art. The sky is frequently littered with some of his family’s experiments and prototypes, and while they don’t match the quality Tiribomba aspires to, as far as anyone else is concerned, they’re perfect.

           Kalama is another member of the Tawahan forging process, although his assignment is particularly grim. Kalama oversees the process of recycling Skull Spider bodies, shipped in from all across Okoto, usually from Levato. Kalama helps his fellow workers break down the bodies of the fallen creatures, melting down their metal limbs to be reforged into new blades, and breaking the rest down to its base components to be recycled and reused. This morbid occupation brings him in frequent contact with the faces of the despised swarms, and some fear for Kalama’s mental health- Some have sighted Kalama actually talking to the empty faces of the dead Skull Spiders, and the recent incident of a Skull Spider that feigned death, just to infiltrate Tawahi, has put him on further edge. Aft sometimes swings by to offer therapy, but Kalama just sticks to his job.

           Maglya is a Lava Farmer in her spare time- As the name suggests, others of her occupation use the lava flows of the nearby moat and fresh volcanic soil to farm healthy gardens. Always having something to offer on her stall, Maglya is in frequent collaboration with Vohon to sell her soil to other farmers, in particular her pen pal Orkahm of the Vuata Maca. Despite her apparently idle job, Maglya also has a thrill for the dangerous sport of Ignalu Surfing, and is a professional at it.

           Vohon is Tawahi’s main trader. An enthusiastic marketer with a magnetic personality, Vohon has a unique ‘loyalty’ program for her frequent customers. Said system involves a series of tickets given to customers that, when amassed, can grant them free prizes. Other parts of this Loyalty program include exclusive scratch cards, the occasional discount, and an inevitable gift for Naming Day. Despite the encouragement of these programs, Vohon is also courteous enough to advise shoppers to be careful about their spending, a lesson that is always heeded well. Vohon is a big fan of the poppers that Tiribomba’s family makes.

           Lhii is the young, impressionable son of Narmoto. Despite his mother’s death, Lhii retains his excitable demeanor, frequently running about Tawahi and playing with the other children, even making friends with older villagers. His status as the Protector’s son has made him beloved, if reverent, to the Tawahan Military, but Lhii does not throw his status around, instead preferring to hang out with the guards and be friends with them as well. Despite the death toll against the Skull Spiders, Lhii aspires to follow in his father’s footsteps and defend Tawahi when he’s old enough, perhaps even replacing him as Protector of Fire.

           The Tawahan Military is a local militia of volunteers, all armed with the freshest, sturdiest weaponry, tools, and armor, fresh and hot from the forge. While mostly voluntary, there is an unspoken agreement that the militia must have a certain minimum number of members that, if not met, would be gathered from a draw of the capable. Thankfully, such a scenario has never happened, as the courage of Tawahi blazes in its inhabitants’ hearts. The Tawahan Military frequently patrols the walls of the village, overseeing the smelting of ores, defending against Skull Spider threats, and occasionally going beyond the lava moat for expeditions or hunts.

           Members of the Tawahan Military are frequently imbued with a powerful sense of honor, chivalry, and code. They are led by Jaller, captain of the guard, and heir to Narmoto’s status as Protector of Fire. A natural leader who takes heed of his followers’ opinions, Jaller possesses a powerful sense of loyalty and a simmering caution, always on the lookout for Skull Spiders and assessing their tactics. Despite his loyalty, Jaller is not blind to authority, not even his own, and he is willing to call out those above him in case he feels there is injustice- Such solid morals and other values are what has led him to be the disciplined Captain of the Tawahan Military. His spare time is usually combat training.

           Kapura is one of the older members of the Tawahan Military, and among its more mysterious and eccentric ones. Functioning differently in the mental sense, Kapura is naturally physically slower than everyone else, a trait that has led him to be careful, diligent, and analytical. In the heat of battle, Kapura’s more slowed and calmed approach to the situation allows him to sometimes notice things that aren’t quite right, or observe what others have missed. This analytical and purposeful methodology of his has made him one of Narmoto’s advisors.

Paradoxically enough, Kapura seems to have the ability to move quickly, perhaps even teleport- He claims he can travel fast by moving slowly, by concentrating on where he is not, and thus inevitably being there. Kapura tends to practice this habit of his in the Charred Forest at his own risk, and it seems to work- How is anyone’s guess. Attempts to imitate have failed. Kapura also has a strange intuition regarding the Skull Spiders, and a knowledge of some parts of the Okotan pantheon of Deities. When not guarding or practicing, Kapura works at Tawahi’s theaters, occasionally partaking in its shadow theather or puppet shows, telling the old stories of Okoto.

Keahi’s role in the Tawahan Military is the regular patrol of the walls. In her spare time, Keahi also serves as a geisha performer and guest entertainer for visitors, often working at nearby restauraunts or in the Tawahi Hot Springs, and is a frequent member of the theater. Despite her graceful and reserved nature, Keahi also has a bit of a sharp tone if she chooses and is not to be underestimated- Jaller has cited her to be the bravest Tawahan there is. According to him, Keahi is actually very afraid, but she continues on diligently and stows away her fear, conquering it.

Agni is a dedicated Tawahan soldier who is obsessed with a moral code of honor. Rumor has it that his father once ran away in battle against the Skull Spiders, a disgrace and cowardice that Agni intends to make up for in his service by being the first to volunteer for missions. A master at the martial arts, Agni helps instruct his fellow guards on weaponless combat and is quick to remind people of the weak points that the Skull Spiders like to exploit. His mother has encouraged him to find a girlfriend, or boyfriend, whichever, but Agni is disinterested.

[tf-imagines]

May I please have tfp cons headcannons with a female human s/o who wrestles and always has her wrists wrapped (secretly for aesthetic purposes, but she won't admit that)?

Megatron

- Megatron finds your sport of choice to be interesting.

- He admires your physical strength and determination, vaguely reminded of his days as a gladiator.

- However he is concerned for your wellbeing since that is surely a dangerous sport for humans, who seem to get hurt so easily. He doesn’t think you’re weak, he knows you’re plenty strong and capable, he just would rather not see you hurt.

- When he sees your wrists are wrapped so much, he worried that it is due to injury and will ask if you’ve been hurt, much more gentle with you for a while.

- If you ever do admit it is just aesthetic, he’ll relax and leave you be with it. So long as you’ll tell him if you are genuinely hurt.

Starscream

- Starscream honestly thinks wrestling is...kind of barbaric, even if he is not totally above a similar scuffle if the situation calls for it in a battle

- He dotes over you when you’re hurt, worried that you might have further injury than you’re letting on to avoid him trying to make you stop

- He of course admires your strength, but sometimes wishes you could find a better way to show it off than willingly fighting people

- Having your wrists constantly bandaged does worry him to a degree, but just reassure him that you aren’t hurt, you might need to prove it by picking something up without showing any signs of pain, and he’ll leave it be

Soundwave

- Once Soundwave finds out what you do, he will scour the internet for videos and further information on it to have a better understanding

- He is fascinated by humans durability and stubbornness, how much damage they can take while continuing to fight

- He discovers that most televised wrestling has some amount of pre-planning so you aren’t likely to get too seriously injured, which helps to calm some of his worry

- But he still dotes over you and makes sure that you aren’t hurt after each match

- He realizes the wrapping is mostly aesthetic pretty quickly, since it seems to be a trend amongst wrestlers, but might still very carefully check your wrists from time to time to ensure they aren’t actually hurt

Knockout

- Knockout has mixed feelings regarding your wrestling

- On one hand, it’s an impressive display of human capabilities and shows how strong and durable you are

- On the other hand, this puts you in danger of being hurt in ways he may not be able to help with, which he doesn’t like

- However he still lets you continue, not trying to dissuade you. At the same time though, if you ask his opinion of your sport of choice, he’ll be honest and tell you what he does and doesn’t like about it

- He gets really worried when he first notices that your wrists are wrapped, worried that you did it because of an injury instead of purely aesthetic

- Once you calm him from his panic and reassure him that no, your wrists aren’t broken, he’ll try to just accept it as something you do and go on with his life

- Every now and then though, he’ll do a surprise check up to make sure you aren’t hiding injuries from him. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust you to tell him, it’s that he’s worried and wants to reassure himself, and make sure that you don’t think he doesn’t care for your wellbeing.

Breakdown

- Breakdown absolutely loves wrestling, without a doubt

- Due to how ‘in your face’ his fighting style is, he might even try to learn some of the wrestling movies on TV to try and incorporate in his fighting, though it’s hard to do because of his large metallic frame.

- He is a little worried about your safety when you wrestle, but he’s ok so long as you don’t break anything. Scrapes and bruises, ok no big deal, it happens, it’s like scratches and dents for him. A nuisance, no real damage.

- If you break anything though, he panics and takes you to knockout to make sure you’re ok, treating you like glass for fear of making things worse

- He thinks your wrist wrappings look really cool, and might honestly wish he could do it himself to add to the intimidation factor, but again...doesn’t exactly translate from organic to Cybertronian

- He trusts that you’d tell him if your wrists were hurt, so he doesn’t ask more than once, and all he’d ask was why you do it. He’d accept even a measly shrug as a response, and leave it at that

[beingallelite]

Nearly twenty years after the end of the “Monday Night Wars,” the landscape of professional wrestling is on the precipice of a massive shift.

The catalyst for the seismic change is All Elite Wrestling, the upstart company founded by Tony Khan, son of Jacksonville Jaguars owner Shad Khan, and professional wrestlers Cody Rhodes, Kenny Omega and Matt and Nick Jackson — better known as the Young Bucks.

After holding four shows — two pay-per-views and two free events — all eyes will be on the upstart wrestling company this week as it debuts its live television program, titled “Dynamite,” on TNT.

“I guess you could say there are a lot of nerves because going live you face that fact that anything could happen,” Nick Jackson told Yahoo Sports. “You just never know if something wrong is going to go down, like someone getting hurt. Knock on wood, hopefully everyone just kills it and we have a great time. We’re just hoping everything goes right.”

The birth of All Elite Wrestling

Wednesday night represents a culmination of a months-long effort by the Bucks, Omega, Rhodes and Khan, among others. On the heels of their successful independent show, “All In,” in August 2018, the group announced the creation of All Elite Wrestling in January and the buzz immediately started.

What started as a conversation on his back patio between Matt Jackson, his wife and Khan had finally become a reality.

“With the feedback right away we knew it was something that could be big,” Nick Jackson said. “As soon as we announced Chris Jericho, then people knew this was real and it could be as big as anything we’ve seen over the past 20 years. Right off the bat we knew. When we hit a home run with [May’s event] ‘Double or Nothing,’ that was further proof that this was going to be the next alternative.”

While the concept of All Elite Wrestling kicked into high gear over the past nine months, the Jacksons recognize that their YouTube series, “Being the Elite,” served almost as a training ground for the production aspect of AEW.

“I don’t think we would have ever guessed that it would get this big,” Matt Jackson said. “When we first started it, it was just a fun little project that was Nick’s idea to document our day-to-day activities for the fans to help us connect on a more personal level. The fact that it became what it became is really crazy to us. We’re hoping to keep it around.”

Since its inception in 2016, “Being the Elite” has grown to include several other members of All Elite Wrestling’s roster and has served as a conduit to further storylines in between events. As AEW grew, inching closer to the October debut, the Jacksons’ responsibilities expanded and ultimately, the brothers admit that the hit series may change.

“We’re hoping to keep it around,” Matt Jackson said. “I don’t know what that means though exactly, it will depend on what our schedule looks like. We have a huge following, it’s too big to just go away. I think we’ll be going through a transitional phase here soon while we figure out what ‘BTE’ will look like.”

‘My sleep schedule hasn’t been great’

The biggest adjustment for the Jacksons has been juggling dual roles. In addition to being two of the marquee talents on AEW’s roster, the brothers serve as executive vice presidents for the company.

It’s one thing to have to prepare for your own match ahead of a show, it’s an entirely different beast to ensure every aspect of the production is firing on all cylinders.

“I’m learning that it was a lot easier just being a wrestler, especially with this whole project,” Matt Jackson said. “The biggest adjustment for me has been being on the phone every second of the day, trying to be a dad also. Trying to stay fit, trying to do all of my other daily things.”

“A few months into this my phone never stopped ringing and I never stop getting text messages. It’s been a non-stop work pace since June. I love it, but at the same time I will admit that of course I’m struggling with balance. We’re an upstart but I have my own family too. Juggling a billion things at once, my sleep schedule hasn’t been great.”

Juggling their time is just one part of the equation for the Jacksons.

As All Elite Wrestling continues to grow, there’s inevitably going to be the perception that if they are continuously booked at the top of the card that the Jacksons — along with Rhodes and Omega — are putting themselves “over.”

The Jacksons are attempting to squash the issue before it starts.

“That’ll always be a concern,” Nick Jackson said. “Matt, myself and Kenny, we’ve made this a rule where you cannot talk about our position in the office on camera. You’ll never hear about anything that we do outside of being in the wrestling ring when you watch an episode on TNT. The only way you’ll know that is if you’re really a true insider, a huge wrestling fan and we want to keep it that way.

“If we’re the most popular act on a show, then that popular act should win,” Nick Jackson continued. “If we aren’t getting the biggest reaction, we should lose. We just have to know better and what’s right and wrong. I feel like Matt and I are pretty thoughtful in a selfish business.”

Making a place for tag-team wrestling

The Jacksons are one of the best — if not the best — tag teams in the world, so it’s no surprise that All Elite Wrestling is placing a huge emphasis on the format.

The early success of “Dynamite” will hinge on a number of factors, but one of the most important will be the tag-team tournament that will inevitably crown the promotions first champions.

“We’ve always fantasized — we never thought we’d get to do it — but if we had the book, we would make tag-team wrestling a priority,” Matt Jackson said. “Every team that you see with us, they were hand-picked by Nick and I. We’ve either worked with them elsewhere or have been watching them. We asked ourselves, ‘Who are the teams we want to work with?’ We figured, if we could have a good match with these wrestlers, the other teams could as well. A lot of it was almost selfish, us saying, ‘Who can we tear the house down with? OK, sign them.’”

There’s obviously an old-school feel as AEW goes up against WWE — by far the biggest competitor in the wrestling industry — but putting tag-team wrestling front and center is a sign that the company hopes to take the business even further back than the “Monday Night Wars” of the 1990s.

“Tag-team wrestling historically has been big box office,” Matt Jackson said. “In the old territory days, the Rock ‘N’ Roll Express was the main event in every town. It was clearly something that worked. Even as recently as the TLC era, Matt and Jeff Hardy were the biggest box office draw in tag-team history. They’re brothers, there’s a lot of parallels. I don’t know why it hasn’t shined as brightly in the past 20 years, but it’s time for it to take its spot back.”

With teams like the Young Bucks, Lucha Bros. and SCU, among others, it won’t be difficult for AEW to sell tag-team wrestling. Anyone who has watched a match involving these teams knows that there is no shortage of death-defying and jaw-dropping spots.

While some teams may alter their style with the move to weekly television — there’s a belief that wrestlers want to save certain moments for bigger shows — don’t expect that in the early going from the Jacksons.

“Matt and I have built a career off doing everything every day and every show,” Nick Jackson said. “I don’t think we’re going to change that philosophy. You might see that change with other wrestlers, but Matt and I are going to go into it thinking, ‘Let’s do what we do and keep doing what got us to the dance.’ Maybe during commercial breaks we’ll take it a little more easy.”

“Now is not the time to hold back,” Matt Jackson said. “Now is the time to show the world what we’re capable of. This may be the moment where everyone wants to sample our product and we may just have 15 seconds to gain some viewers when they are flipping through the channels. Now it’s the time to show the world what AEW looks like.”

And if fans are hooked, they’ll get to see tag-team wrestling in the biggest time slots.

“I don’t want anybody to be surprised when tag-team matches headline and main event a bunch of our shows,” Matt Jackson said. “There’s nothing more beautiful than a good tag-team wrestling match.”

The billion-dollar question

AEW is far from the first wrestling promotion to try and compete with Vince McMahon and WWE.

After Ted Turner’s World Championship Wrestling and Paul Heyman’s Extreme Championship Wrestling were purchased by McMahon, the wrestling landscape has been dominated by WWE.

Smaller promotions such as Ring of Honor, Pro Wrestling Guerilla, New Japan Pro Wrestling and Total Nonstop Action have all operated over the past 20 years, but none has gained a large enough share to truly pose a threat to McMahon’s behemoth.

With AEW debuting on TNT — the same channel that aired “Monday Night Nitro” in the 1990s — things feel different. WWE has also moved its NXT brand, which more closely resembles the independent-adjacent style that AEW will have, to air on Wednesday nights in the same exact time slot as “Dynamite.”

“Of course [competition] is a conversation [we have],” Matt Jackson said. “I feel like the entire group of guys, we’re all so tunnel-visioned on what our idea is and what we want our show to look like, we have a vision of what we want AEW to be and we can’t stray too far away from that.

“Obviously, it’s smart to survey, see what the competitor is doing and what’s clicking or not clicking. A lot of this is going to be organic. If one week they are putting on something similar to what we have planned, maybe we change that. If they have a huge match planned and we didn’t, maybe that changes things. I think all it does is breed competitive nature in all of us, makes us all step up our game and put on the best show possible. It’s corny, but the fans win in all of this.”

At the end of the day, AEW’s ability to compete will boil down to the in-ring product and its production value.

Although the members of the AEW roster have vast experience in the professional wrestling world, there’s a significant difference between working on the independent circuit and putting on a live television program every week.

“We need to learn how to tighten up the show and tell our stories in 90 minutes,” Matt Jackson said. “The other thing is it’s going to be on live television, so we’re working with commercial breaks. I think we will gain our footing. This is all new to us and we’re a brand new company. We’re expecting hiccups but the best thing will be for us to pivot from those things and learn from our mistakes. We’re learning on the job but we also think we’re the most qualified team.”

Much like wrestlers calling a match in the ring, everyone involved in AEW will also need to be able to change things on the fly.

“We have an idea of where we want to go, but we also have to be ready to switch gears,” Matt Jackson said. “In wrestling, things just kind of organically happen. I always use this example, but we didn’t have a clue that after doing four shows that having a guy who dresses up as a dinosaur be one of our most over acts. Happy surprises happen. One thing we need to be ready to do is shift things and go with the flow.”

Saying goodbye to the old Young Bucks

In August, the Jacksons said goodbye to the independent circuit with a main event match against Private Party in Queens, New York. The show, put on by House of Glory, was in a venue that held maybe 1,000 people.

For comparison, “Dynamite” will take place at the Capital One Arena in Washington, D.C. — a 20,000-plus seat venue that sold out in minutes.

“The one thing Matt and I will certainly miss is how close we were to that fan base,” Nick Jackson said. “We’re not leaving them, but it felt so intimate, being in a smaller venue.”

It’s not just moving to a bigger venue for the Jacksons, it’s leaving behind the part of the business that helped make them who they are today.

“It’s an environment for being able to really thrive, be creative and try new things, take risks,” Matt Jackson said. “That’s one thing I miss. Every match we have there’s a lot of pressure, it’s high stakes, we have to hit a home run every time. It felt good to do independent shows because that’s where we really crafted our act and created these characters that everyone has come to love now.

“[Now we’re] realizing that that part of our career is over and I’m not sure if it has really sunk in for us.”

On arguably the biggest night of their careers on Wednesday, it will.

[chriswdelgado]

Hell in a Cell 2019 Review

This is an exciting time to be a wrestling fan. With the premiere of AEW Dynamite on TNT, NXT on USA, and Smackdown on Fox, there are a lot of changes and, more importantly, there’s a noticeable effort from everyone involved to put on good shows and impress people.

I’ve been a fan of wrestling for years now, but recently I stopped watching because I was getting tired of the same stale product (I can’t remember exactly when I stopped watching; I think it was sometime around 2015). I’ve tried to get back into since then. I watched Wrestlemania this year and a handful of Raws and Smackdowns, but I was never consistent.

Last week’s plethora of premieres, though, seemed like the perfect time to start again, and honestly, I was impressed by most of what I saw from all the shows. As such, I will continue to watch them, and, since I’m doing that, I figured why not journal my thoughts? These aren’t meant to be any sort of definitive judgements, nor do I know very much about the intricacies of the business. I’m just one fan, giving my opinions. If nothing else, maybe these will serve as a record of the shows’ quality and motivation for me to continue watching if they ever start to dip.

Now, with that preamble out of the way, let’s get into Hell in a Cell.

First of all, I want to say that overall I enjoyed the show. I know that a lot of people would say the opposite, and trust me, I understand. We’ll get there. But I personally found a lot to like here. The tornado tag team match was enjoyable; I liked the ending to the women’s tag team match with the green mist, and I liked Charlotte Flair vs. Bayley. The Viking Raiders and Braun Strowman vs. The O.C. was fine, but mostly forgettable, as was Randy Orton vs. Ali, and I ended up fast forwarding through Baron Corbin vs. Chad Gable. But those were only three matches, and they were mostly short.

My favorite match of the night was Becky Lynch vs. Sasha Banks for the Raw Women’s Championship. I’ve always been a fan of the Hell in a Cell gimmick, even in its much tamer modern incarnation. To that point, the fact that the cell was red actually made it less ominous to me, like it was some sort of toy you might expect to use with your action figures. When the cell is the color of steel, it looks real, and it looks dangerous. For some reason, I’m pretty sure no one was saying, “You know what would make Hell in a Cell better? If the cell was red.” Personally, I think they should do away with the Hell in a Cell pay per view entirely. Seeing the cell every year diminishes its grandeur and menace. Keep it in storage, and only bring it out occasionally for the big, blow-off matches to end long, bitter feuds.

With that being said, Lynch and Banks had an incredible match. As I said before, I haven’t been watching recently, so I didn’t know the specifics of their feud, but that didn’t matter. Their match told a clear story of a struggle between two wrestlers for the championship, and that’s all you really need. I know the WWE will never get as violent as they used to, but even still, they made good use of the weapons that they were allowed to use. My only issue would be that I don’t quite believe that these two hated each other so much that they would inflict that much damage on each other, but again, that would be solved by only using the cell when it’s necessary. Even so, it’s clear Lynch and Banks poured their hearts into that match, and that made it extremely enjoyable to watch.

Now, it wouldn’t be wrasslin’ without a bit of controversy, so let’s dig into Seth Rollins vs. “The Fiend” Bray Wyatt. First of all, I want to say that I was looking forward to this match. This was the kind of match that should have taken place in Hell in a Cell: you’ve had Bray Wyatt attacking Rollins every chance he gets. He’s dangerous, and Rollins is pissed off. You need the cell to contain the explosive energy of their clash.

First, the good. I like Bray Wyatt. His mask is cool, and when he plays The Fiend, he goes all in, which actually ensures that he doesn’t look stupid when he does it (and it’s a fine line he has to walk to avoid looking stupid). I liked the first part of the match, where Rollins and Wyatt were actually fighting each other, and to be honest, I liked the second part too, where Rollins kept trying more elaborate and violent things to put away Bray Wyatt, but Wyatt kept getting up.

However, let’s talk about the finish. Rollins stacks a ladder, a chair, and a tool box(?) on top of Wyatt and tries to hit it with a sledge hammer. The referee warns him not to do this, but he does it anyway, causing the referee to stop the match. While the crowd erupts in boos, medical staff rush out to haul Wyatt away, but Wyatt leaps off the gurney and applies the mandible claw on Rollins so hard that blood pours from his mouth (which is impossible). Wyatt leaves Rollins in a pool of his own mouth-blood, laughs, and then the screen cuts off. Rollins remains the champion.

First of all, the idea that a referee can stop a Hell in a Cell match is frankly ludicrous. The whole gimmick of the match is that it’s violent, disturbing, the devil’s playground. Yet the moment we see “real” violence, we’re told that this isn’t the case. The referee stopping the match reminds us that this is all just pretend. If Bray Wyatt was a real fiend/demon creature, why would the referee be worried about Rollins hurting/killing him? He should want Rollins to put this thing away so he doesn’t have to look at it anymore. But he doesn’t. Instead, out comes the stretcher, and kayfabe’s corpse is dragged through the mud.

However, I would argue that the problem with this match wasn’t necessarily the ending. The problem was that this particular match was done too early. Wyatt shouldn’t have gone against the champion without more matches under his belt. We should have seen him attacking other wrestlers, putting them away in violent fashion to build up his menace. I don’t think anyone really believed that Bray Wyatt would win the championship, and that’s the issue at hand. I think that if we’d gotten the same match, with the same finish, but without the added caveat of it being for a championship, people wouldn’t have had a problem with it. To me, Wyatt making Rollins bleed from the mouth seems like something that would normally be done in an injury angle, where Rollins would go away for a few months or a year. But since he’s the champion, we know that won’t happen.

Although kayfabe is dead, and that makes me sad, the WWE still wants to keep some resemblance of realism in their product. As good as he is, Bray Wyatt is likely to never win the championship. It’s not the 80s/90s anymore. We, the audience, know that, so don’t put him in a championship match where you have to fuck the finish. Put him in a grudge match where he can be as crazy and violent as he wants. What the WWE needs to learn, and I think this is actually a Triple H created problem, is that not everyone has to be the champion, and that not every match needs to be the main event.

So yes, the main event’s finish was bad, but I liked the match leading up to the finish, and I liked a lot of the other matches on the card, especially Lynch vs. Banks. While it’s true, the show might have been better if they trimmed some of the excess matches and produced a shorter, more refined product, it’s also true that the WWE is going in the opposite direction, preferring longer shows to shorter ones, and I don’t foresee that changing any time soon. Overall, I had a good time watching this show. Maybe that’s because this is my first pay per view in a while, and I’m not yet livid at stupid WWE booking (TM). But before I go, I’ll leave you with a question to ponder. Is whether a show is good or not dependent only on the outcome of its main event?

[johnsonofbrian]

IndyWrestlingLife Interview: Jumping John Myers

How long have you been a referee? I’ve been a referee since 2003 (I wrestled in 2000).

Where did you learn how to become a referee? I attended the Prof. Tütree’s Umpire School for Gifted Children at a young age, where you spend 7 years studying all aspects of officiating. Lessons would include proper hand signals, general fitness and learning the proper technique for a sweet knee slide.

Why did you become a referee? Like most referee’s it wasn’t so much a passion for wrestling, but a calling. This calling can manifest itself in a searing vision, an out of body experience where you are visited by one of the great referees of old…or (like myself) a striking birthmark of thick black lines on the torso (similar to the referee shirt that you are present with at the end of your training).

What is the referee’s role in the match? It’s been said that wrestling is an “Art Form” – and if that is the case then it is the referee’s duty to ensure that the combatants stay inside the lines.

What are the various ways of communicating with the talent during the match? I find yelling to be the best way. Occasionally I have had to resort to being more physical – a stiff finger-poke to the chest or a vicious ear twist tends to drive the message home.

Tell us about the first time that you refereed a match. Well I didn’t get to step foot into a ring to referee a match until I had left Professor Tütree’s School, so I was very excited for my first match/show. I have no big memories from it however, I’m sure if I could find the match on VHS tape though I would have a good cringe.

What was the most memorable match ever refereed? Genuinely I would say it wasn’t a match with any “big stars” in it, or even in a big venue (probably lucky if there was 100 people there)…but it was a match (fairly early on in my career) I was refereeing with a guy I had trained with who was wrestling in the main event for the big title in that promotion. I’d known the guy for a lot of years, we’d been to (real) school together, and he managed to win that night – and I’ll probably never forget handing him the belt, his first belt, and raising his hand.

Have you ever been injured during a match? If so what happened? I’ve legit dislocated my shoulder during a match (my counting arm no less!), and it was a show with no back-up ref so I did the only thing I could do which was force the shoulder back into the socket and finish the match/show. The couple of days I was pretty sore.

How many matches have you refereed in your career? I know a lot of referees who have kept records of this, and it’ll probably be one of my big regrets in wrestling that I haven’t kept a track of the exact number – but I think it’s somewhere around the 1100/1200 mark.

How do wrestlers communicate to you when they’ve been seriously injured? Screaming does the trick…or they’ll grab hold of you to make sure you understand. Really it’s one of the main duties to make sure everyone involved with the match is okay at all times.

How do you handle that a wrestler is injured so badly that the wrestler can no longer continue? Professor Tütree always said that the well-being of the competitor’s is paramount. If these guys are hurt, they may well have families, this may be how they make a living and pay their bills…stopping a contest due to one of the wrestlers being unable to continue is a totally legitimate finish to a match (and does happen on occasion) and it would be that way in any other sport.

What do you wish the public would know about your role as a referee? On occasion…a referee may…miss something. One of the wrestlers may…get an unfair advantage, due to the referee…missing a call. The public need to understand that yes, when people talk about “the record books” in wrestling, they’re a real thing – the record books. The second the bell rings at the end of a contest, that match is logged and the winners name added. To reverse a decision after something has come to light at the end of a match…the amount of paperwork associated with reversing said decision is quite frankly ridiculous. You can spend hours filling in forms, giving evidence on video tape, showing a lawyer what exactly happened (through the use of very official cuddly toys). It’s a nightmare – and something I, myself, have had to do when necessity obligated it.

What advice would you give someone who would be interested in becoming a referee? Finding a good school really is the best way (I’m not saying that you could get into Prof. Tütree’s Umpire School for Gifted Children like I did…the exams are proper hard). Really you need to get online and have a look around what is in your area. When I started out it was adverts in the paper, or in the back of wrestling magazines. Finding a school with a good track record of turning out good wrestlers, and that have good trainers will be the most beneficial way for someone with a desire to learn the proper way.

What are your family and friends think of you being a pro wrestling referee? I don’t know if “proud” is the right word…but I can tell by the misty eyed, almost vacant (glassy?) look on my wife’s face whenever I arrive home from a show and proceed to explain (in detail) the blow-by-blow account of each match that she must be holding back the tears of adoration that she feels towards me.

What would you like the wrestlers to know about your role as a referee? Things would go a lot smoother if everyone involved in the match would abide by the rules and listen to my instructions. There are serious ramification to be had if I am ignored (please see above reference to the ear-twisting).

Have you ever been in a confrontation with an overzealous fan who doesn’t realize that the whole thing is scripted? I real I will say this I’ve had my fair share of grandma’s hit me with their handbags at shows. They were soon laughing the other side of their false teeth when I had security throw them out believe me.

Is there anything else you’d like to share about what you do? I think wrestlers are amazing, the amount of time they spend on the road and away from their families, and the punishment they endure on a regular basis is a remarkable thing…that being said, referees need love to – and I have merchandise for sale: Check out: https://www.tshirtstudio.com/marketplace/-refclub

Where are you located? The North East of England.

What promotions have you worked for? What Culture Pro Wrestling, NGW, Absolute Wrestling, NORTH Wrestling, Tidal Championship Wrestling , First Class Wrestling , RISE Wrestling, Three Count Wrestling , Hybrid Pro, Allstar Wrestling , LDN Wrestling, North East Wrestling Society, Wrestle-Zone Wrestling, All-Action Wrestling, Independent Wrestling Federation, Main Event Wrestling…so far.

Have there been any instances during the match with the wrestlers turned it into a shoot, and what did you do? Not too long ago I was refereeing a match between Primate (an amazing UK Wrestler) and Chris “Dirty Daddy” Dickinson (a wrestler over from the states). It didn’t get to the point where I needed to step in…but literally I was about 1 second away from having to get between these two giant men. I’m not sure what I would have done if I had got between them with the punches and kicks that were flying about…maybe break out the patented ear twist again.

[bookenders]

11/11/11 Tag Game: Round... uh... 5, 6, & 7?

I got tagged by a bunch of people ( @quilloftheclouds is this how your 77 question one felt??) so here are a bunch of answers! I think this is the most I’ve ever talked about myself in my life. 

Good gracious, you’re all so nice and have such good questions.

Tagged by: @surroundedbypearls, @waterfallwritings, @bigmoodword, @sundaynightnovels

Rules: answer 11 questions, tag 11 people, give them 11 new questions!

[I’ve done this enough to be able to break the tag rules. Fight me.]

44 questions and answers below the cut!

But I’ll be nice and put my questions right here:

What would you do for a Klondike bar?

When do you title your WIPs? It is the first thing you do? The last? Does it come to you during drafting?

How many inside jokes do you put in your WIP(s)?

Your WIP’s antagonist is now The Riddler. How do your OCs handle that?

Do you use sticky notes?

Laptop or desktop?

Your OC is a wrestler. What’s their hype music?

Do you own any craft books/books on writing?

What’s your favorite book cover?

How many unread books do you have sitting around right now? Which are you most excited to maybe get to eventually some time?

How committed are you to your outline(s)?

Bilbo Taggins: Literally anyone, but also @francestroublr, @sahados-shadow, @a-story-im-writing, @bethkerring, @citruschickadee, @bos-ingit

If I’ve tagged you before, you can totally ignore this. In fact, I encourage you to.

From @surroundedbypearls:

What’s your favourite genre to write in and why? Literary fiction! It’s what I learned in university and the one that fits my themes best. Sci-fi is hard, I’m just getting into writing fantasy stuff, I can’t do thrillers, romance is hard for me, and historical is too much work.

Do you think you have a style/voice that you use more often in your writing? When did you develop that style? If you’ve read one of my stories, you know exactly how my writing voice sounds. It doesn’t change too much. I write like I talk, but if I had a lot more gravitas and charisma. Honestly, I’ve always had that kind of style, but it really developed in high school. It’s been getting stronger since then. It’s one of the things I always got comments about from my teachers and fellow workshop writers. “Your voice is so strong!” Yep. It’s mah thang.

Do you play video games? What’s your favourite? YES I DO. It’s hard to pick faves, but I’ve played Dragon Age: Origins too many times. 

If you were going to do a WIP crossover, which OCs would be most interesting together? (If you’ve only got one WIP crossover with something else) A crossover between H2H and AOPC? Interesting. I think Mel and Keema would get along the best, Oz would have some fightin’ words for Elder Sanga, and Gemma and Teva would be a force to be reckoned with, my god. Two stubborn nerds who believe totally different things but are also very determined to be very good at what they want to do and love their communities to a fault? Fear them.

Do you prefer to plan WIPs in a document or through handwritten notes? I used to do it by hand but I couldn’t read it because my handwriting is terrible and I kept losing papers. I do it in docs now. Much easier to organize and incredibly legible.

Do you multiple languages exist in your WIP? If so how do you address that in the story? H2H is set in the “real world,” so yep. It hasn’t been addressed too much yet, but I have a way for tackling languages. I’ve written multilingual-ish stories before. I never write phonetically and use hella context clues so the reader knows the gist of what was said if another character doesn’t translate.

What’s your favourite animated film that’s not Disney or Pixar? AN AMERICAN TAIL. All of them. It’s on Netflix go watch it and marvel at the way a kids movie talks about Jewish immigration, poverty, and cultural oppression via mice. As a young Jewish child, this movie was my jam. It’s very dark, though.

Do your real-life surroundings influence your WIP’s settings? Nope! One time I tried to write a story set in the same area where I lived and I couldn’t do it. Too weird. Sometimes I’ll write in an item I see near me, or like, a painting or poster on the wall if I need some set decoration, but that’s about it.

Which OCs would be most likely to break the fourth wall? Oz. Lookin’ at the camera like he’s in The Office.

How do you work out your OCs’ personalities? Hm. I look at the story I’m trying to write and make a protagonist that would have the most interesting experience in that narrative. For H2H, I wanted someone who would be loyal as heck to the people they loved while still being experimental enough to try new things and get into shenanigans. The story called for someone like that, and there she was. Mel came about my thinking of someone who would compliment other characters in the story while still being their own person. If that makes sense. I think of dynamics and interactions with the story world in relation to the theme(s). Most of the time they just happen, though.

Do you prefer worldbuilding or character building? Character building! As much as I like making stories about places, making characters is more fun for me, and more interesting. You should see all the DnD character sheets I have. 

From @waterfallwritings:

1. How do you come up with ideas for your WIPs?

At random. Seriously. It’s like my brain has to be running something in the background to function normally, and usually that something is whatever story I happen to be working on. Or I’ll look at a thing and go “huh.” My brain also likes to twist normal things to be a little bit different.

2. How do you get past gaps in the plot?

No idea, man. It’s like throwing spaghetti at a wall. I like to work backwards. If this is what I want to happen, what needs to happen before that to ensure that it occurs? I look at all the elements currently in the story and see if one can be manipulated to fill in the hole.

3. What motivates you to keep writing?

If I don’t, my brain gets all constipated and angry until I write something down. Like, seriously, I get grumpy and frustrated like I’m hangry or something. Aside from physical need, I love writing. I love word puzzles and feelings puzzles and figuring them out. Sometimes I think of how my stories could help someone, or make them feel something that they enjoy. 

4. Do you do any other kind of creative writing?

Oh, man, I’ve done it all. Screenwriting, playwriting, poetry, video game-ish writing, interactive storytelling, short stories, flash fiction, proposals, essays, DnD campaigns, monologues... You name it, I’ve probably tried it. I tend to stick to prose and poetry these days.

5. Do you have any other creative hobbies besides writing?

I’ve gotten into graphic design a little bit. I kind of wanna learn how to knit again. I’m not really very crafty. 

6. What do you do when you’re stuck on a scene and don’t know how to get it out / write it?

Write a different scene, stare at the screen in frustration until I give up and go to sleep, meditate for a few minutes, go do something else to get my mind off of it, clean, work on a different project.

7. How do you decide how to end your WIP?

I mean, see the next question for part of my answer. How did I decide to end H2H? My friend, that’s a big ‘ole spoiler. But I decided to end it at a place where everything, and everyone, comes together.

8. When in the process of writing do you decide how its going to end? Or do you kind of just wait til you get there?

Right at the beginning. If I don’t know where it’ll end, I have a hard time writing the arc. I work backwards: start with the idea, then think of where I want it to end up, then work back to the beginning until I know where its going, then start writing.

9. Why did you decide to join writeblr?

My reasons are pretty personal, but the least personal is that I needed some accountability and motivation. And I missed being in a good writing community.

10. What’s your favourite food?

Pasta! I’m eating spaghetti right now.

11. If you had to kill off a character in your WIP, who would it be and why?

Oz would be the most tragic. Treena would be the most logical. 

From @bigmoodword:

1. using one sentence summaries, can you tell me about your wips?

Nerdy potion woman meets cute odd stranger who helps her solve magic mysteries in their quirky small town.

2. what inspired them?

I saw a zine accepting submissions for magic stories, then an open call for queer shifter stories, and thought “what if wholesome magical lesbians?”

3. which of your ocs do you most identify with?

Gemma!

4. if you’ve ever cried while reading, which book cued the waterworks?

THE SONG OF ACHILLES.  My God, my soul was weeping. Honestly, it still is. Doesn’t matter that I knew the story from the Iliad. Madeline Miller is a feelings wizard.

5. how do you conduct research for your wips and what’s the most interesting thing you’ve discovered in said research?

On an as-needed basis. I used to do way too much research to avoid actually writing the damn thing, so now I only do it when I actually run into a problem that can be solved by Google.

6. thus far, which scene has been the most difficult to write?

The ones that aren’t hugely emotional. Which is... unfortunate.

7. which of your ocs do you like the least?

Rude. On a personal level, Jill. I love her, but I would not be friends with her. We wouldn’t mesh at all.

8. which pov and tense do you prefer to write in?

Third person limited present tense! To the bane of everyone who’s ever edited my work.

9. do you write poetry?

I do! Not often, though.

10. who is your writing role model?

My freakin’ writing professor from college. He is crazy disciplined.

11. if you could give your younger writer self some advice, what would it be?

Hey, you know those people who say your writing is too dark? Yeah, they suck and they’re wrong. They just want kids to live up to their expectations and write happy sunshiny stories about unicorns and dinosaurs having ice cream. And you’re not depressed because you wrote that one sad poem one time and someone asked if you were depressed. What you have is called feelings and they’re very useful for a writer, nay, a human, to have.

From @sundaynightnovels:

Who is your biggest role model? Okay, so I got crap all the time in grade school for never having a role model, and I still don’t have one. The teachers were concerned about me. But my reasoning was, “why should I want to live someone else’s life?” Yeah. They didn’t really know what to do with that...

What are your OCs favorite foods? Sort of answered here!

Which OC is most afraid of the dark? Oz and Mary!

What made you want to start a writing blog/participate in the writeblr community? Answered above!

Did you sleep with a stuffed animal as a kid? Do you still? I did, indeed. I don’t anymore, but I have two that I shuffle around my room when they get in the way. One is a highland cow I got in Scotland (he has a plaid hat), the other is a blue whale I got at the Museum of Natural History in NY.

Do you like donuts? I love donuts. Especially jelly filled ones. Mmm.

Do/would your OCs like donuts? All of my OCs like donuts. I don’t think Mel has ever had a modern one, though.

What is your least favorite food? Cauliflower? I’m the household taste-tester, so there’s been a lot of stuff I don’t like.  ( @sundaynightnovels I hate sparkling water, too, you’re not alone!)

What is your ideal writing environment? Comfy seating, a chair with no arms (stupid elbows), alone, plenty of chosen beverage within reach, headphones.

Favorite line from your WIP? So far, it’s this one!

Favorite quote from a book? Oh, man. There are so many. From recent memory, here are a few: “’Give it time,’ she replies. ‘It won’t be a story forever.’“  and “Everyone has heard stories of women like us, and now we will make more of them.” (both from The Ladies Guide to Petticoats and Piracy) “When he smiled, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled like a leaf held to flame.” and “I lean forward and our lips land clumsily on each other. They are like the fat bodies of bees, soft and round and giddy with pollen.” (I could write a goddamn essay about the imagery in this scene.) (It is quite possibly my favorite description of a kiss ever. And the metaphor extends through the rest of the scene so artfully ugh.) (both from The Song of Achilles) “The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you, and in this way memory and imagination and language combine to make spirits in the head.” (from The Things They Carried)

[deepdisireslonging]

Family Found Part 31: Sending a Message

It’s the last Monday before Clash of Champions, and everyone wants to make sure that their opponent knows what pain and humiliation are in store for them on Sunday. 

Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence

Word Count: 2390

Note: Heads up, I am super mean to Jose this week. Sorry. Since Rhyno has retired, he’s not going to be in this series anymore. I wish him well wherever he goes. And, quick question, am I writing Bray/Dr. M creepy enough/too much? Any and all feedback is super appreciated. You can do it on this post, or my asks and private messages are always open.

Part 1: Welcome to the Team  

Part 30: Challenge Accepted

Monday Night Raw – December 10, 2018

“I don’t understand why Ember is fighting tonight. She’s got a title opportunity on Sunday!” Corey scoffed when Renee tried to calm him down. “It’s just… she’s been running full speed towards this goal, but – superkick from Ember! But fighting Mickie James tonight could cost her.”

They all flinched as the women fell back from the corner in a suplex. Renee pressed forward. “Ember knows exactly what she’s doing. Tonight is just practice. Keeping her muscles warm and keeping her head clear. She’s got this.”

A few moves later, Ember did not seem to ‘got this.’ Mickie was keeping her off her feet, and any time she did stand up, there was a kick or a punch that made her spin into the ropes. The war goddess hissed as she bounced off the apron, sprawling across the floor. She tried to get back between the ropes, but Mickie was there to pull her onto their springiness, sending her back. Then Mickie jumped, landing on her.

With a scream, Ember was through with the mockery Mickie was putting her through. She tossed Mickie into the ring post, then scaled up to the top. She Eclipsed. Rolling back into the ring, she waited for the count.

“Wait… do you think that’s the best choice going into Clash of Champions?” Cole asked. “Natalya’s going to have champion’s advantage, and she can’t lose the title by count-out.”

As the ref approached the count of seven, Ember growled as the realization hit her. She rolled out and collected her opponent. Mickie stumbled to her feet, turning just in time to catch another Total Eclipse. Ember pinned her without even a twitch from Mickie. She wobbled to her feet, flinching as the ref raised her hand. The stage lit up in purple, and Natalya walked out. She watched as the champion came down the ramp and entered the ring.

She didn’t say anything, just walked up to stand toe-to-toe with Ember. And then, with a bright smile on her face, she raised the title above them both. Point made, she turned on her heel and left the way she came.

***

All the audience could see was the darkness. A few offered up their flashlights, but when the silence took over, those snuffed out. Dr. M appeared on the screen, standing in a long dark hallway that looked like it belonged to an abandoned hospital.

“The first dose has been given,” he said. “The first antidote issued. My associate and I have what we want, and we’re not going to let a few parasites get their hands on our titles.” He flipped his tag title belt over his shoulder and smiled at it. Then he slowly turned his gaze forward. “Or will we? Because, you have to see, having the cure to what ails the WWE universe is no good unless it’s administered to everyone.” He squinted in thought. “Perhaps there are other goals we need to achieve to ensure the erasure of the widespread disease.”

He grabbed hold of the camera, making the image shake. “But that has not yet come to pass. Plans are still incubating. Tonight… no. Tonight is about sending the message. It’s making sure that the universe knows that its rescue is at hand. The rescue from the viruses and the human pestilence that is the Raw tag team division as it stands.” He stepped back. “Don’t worry. Doctor M is here to help.”

***

Backstage, Elias was tuning his guitar. Once he had it adjusted the way he liked it, he began to strum and hum along. Just as he was about to sing, a thumping beat came down the hallway. A man in a brightly colored shirt danced by with a speaker box playing No Way Jose’s music, followed by a long line of people who filled the space. Jose danced into the center of them, twirling one woman around, and then grabbing Elias’s hand to twirl him.

“Can you not-“ Elias growled and snatched his hand away. “Can you not do this right here?” He shouted over the music. Jose motioned that he couldn’t hear him. “Are you… are you headed to the ring? The ring!” It took several hand motions, but Elias finally got his question across. “Good. I’m going to meet you there!”

Jose smiled and motioned for his dance party to follow him, leaving the hall much quieter.

Elias sneered and shouldered his guitar. “Yeah, I’ll meet you in the ring.”

***

A few minutes later, Elias was illuminated in the center of the ring. “I had to rush to get here before the dancing hooligans, but I should have enough time to make sure that you know that WWE stands for?” He waited for the response. “Good. You’ve got it. Now let’s see if I can…” He strummed and was able to get into the same tune as before. But like earlier, as he was inhaling to sing along, Jose’s music interrupted. He stood and angrily shed his scarves, microphone, and guitar.

Before the bell had barely rung, Elias was attacking. But Jose knew what he had been doing, and saw it coming. With a relaxed dodge, Elias’s shoulder collided with the ring post. Jose pulled him back into the ring and tried for a pin, almost succeeding. From there, Jose took great pleasure in pushing Elias’s buttons. Even if the retaliation was painful and exhausting. He was talented in distracting hip curls, and in interrupting any attempted moves from his opponent. At his cue, the dancers that had stayed, danced a lap around the ring chanting “walk with Elias” very much off-key. It set Elias’s hackles on edge, making Jose laugh.

Turning his back on an irate Drifter was a mistake. A high knee laid Jose out flat. Elias took to the skies and finished him off with an elbow drop. When that wasn’t enough, Elias growled, “dance away from this,” and spun Jose up for powerbomb after powerbomb. Finally, Elias went for a pin, satisfied when the ref made it to three. He rolled out to retrieve his guitar.

No Way Jose stumbled to his feet. He was too busy rubbing the headache out of his temples to notice the frantic motions from his fellow dancers. Jose was oblivious to Elias raising his guitar behind him. It shattered on his back. Elias slung the remnants over his shoulder and nodded before leaving the ring.

***

In the next round for the women’s tag teams, Rhonda shadowboxed in the ring, waiting for her partner. Dana Brooke made her entrance. The women shook hands in the ring. “Thanks for… being willing to be my partner in this,” Rhonda said.

“Thanks for even thinking of me. Even if I was the last one available. You could have stayed out of the tournament, but you didn’t. And now we’re both here.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder as the Riott Squad took the stage. “No, no, no, no, NO!” Ruby twisted the mic on her hand. “Rhonda, Rhonda, Rhonda. You just can’t seem to play by the rules, can you? You swaggered into the WWE with your big name and doors just flung open for you.” She cackled. “You may have been great in your fighting world, but in this one, you have to earn your spot. And not by cutting corners. And Dana,” she cocked her head as she descended down the ramp, Liv Morgan and Sarah Logan on her heels, “you should know better. And I think, that of every woman on the roster, you would know fake, self-serving, inevitable back-stabbing power when you see it.”

Rhonda cut Dana off from rushing forward. She noted how the other two women had circled the ring, flanking them. Sarah and Liv stepped up onto the apron, harsh grins on their faces.

“And now,” Ruby finished, “we are going to make sure you pay. Both of you.” She strolled over to the bell booth and rang in the match herself.

It didn’t last long. The Riott Squad women were good what they did. If Rhonda was in the ring, they quick tagged and evaded her hits, keeping her frustrated. If Dana was in, well, they knew her buttons too. Whispering ghosts from her time working with Charlotte Flair. It wore on her more than the punches. And when it became too much, Rhonda was too busy chasing Liv for the tag. Sarah pinned Dana, then escaped up the ramp with her team.

“Lesson learned, Rhonda,” Ruby shouted back.

***

The number one contender’s match for the Raw tag titles was between the Revival and the team of Bobby Roode and Chad Gable. It was a heck of a match, keeping everyone on the edge of their seats. When Dash finally pinned Chad, even Dasha Fuentes had to applaud. The losers, and runner-ups by agreement, left the ring so the ref could raise the hands of the victors. The continued to celebrate even after he left.

Then the lights went out.

When they came back on, and only halfway, both Dash and Scott were knocked out in the ring. In either corner, the shadows turned out to be Dr. M and Braun Strowman. Again, the lights went out. When they came back on, fully this time, the Revival was still asleep on the mat, but Dr. M and Braun were gone.

***

The main event was what you had set up last week. Seth Rollins came out to the ring and grabbed a mic. “Over the past several weeks, there have been a great many… insinuations that I am not worthy to be Intercontinental Champion.” He shrugged. “I would have to disagree, but you guys deserve more than just words or a flashy appearance. So, tonight, right here and right now, I am issuing an open challenge. But not just any open challenge,” he grinned, “it’s going to be a gauntlet open challenge.”

Proud of himself, he beamed at the crowd, basking in the response they gave him. “Back there are five of some of the best wrestlers WWE has to offer. And not one of them is going home tonight with this title.” He returned the mic and handed the title to the referee while Jojo announced the match.

The first to come out was Baron Corbin. Most of their match ended up outside the ring. Between Baron’s quick recoveries around the posts, and Seth’s over-the ropes high flying, their part of the match could have gone either way. But Seth’s curb-stomp could knock out a dragon. He hurried to his feet after the pin, ready for the next opponent.

Dolph Ziggler came out next, proud and swaggering and taking his time to circle the ring before ascending the stairs. Both men glared at the other. Immediately, Dolph tried to catch Seth in a headlock, succeeding enough to toss the champion to the canvas. The goal was to keep him off his feet, and he did so with repeated kicks to his stomach and by targeting the areas already hurt by Baron. Still, Seth came back and gave worse to Dolph than what he had received. There may have been a slight hold on Dolph’s tights for the roll-up.

Having lost, Dolph begrudgingly left the ring. He paused at the bottom of the ramp as Drew McIntyre entered next. They sneered at each other, merely inches apart on the wide ramp, before going their separate ways. Again, the match was more likely to be outside the ring than in. Drew used the ring posts, the stairs, and his height advantage against Seth. And the injuries were beginning to add up. So Seth switched the game from defense to dodgeball. Every time that Drew tried to run Seth into something, it was reversed, and he ended up hitting the target. One such crash into the ring post was enough to keep Drew from kicking out, giving Seth a much-needed break.

Seth was still kneeling, facing where Drew had rolled out of the ring, when Dean’s music hit. He sighed with a smile, turning to watch his brother in arms come down the ramp. They shared a quick handshake. Then Dean used every trick he knew would either exhaust Seth or tick him off. And there was a lot to work with, considering their history.

Finn Balor’s entrance took over the stage. As suddenly as it came, the music stopped. Seth froze, keeping an eye out for a trick, giving Dean the break he needed to try for a roll-up. He was unsuccessful, but only just.

“Mind games!” Corey shouted.

Several long minutes later, Dean was pinned, though he kicked out at three and a quarter. Panting, they laughed. Dean rolled out of the ring, shaking his head. He motioned to Seth “so close.” His brother mouthed back, “you wish.”

Dean was long gone by the time Finn’s entrance started again. When he didn’t immediately enter from the front, Seth spun around just in time to receive a sling blade. He had already fought four of the best, and the fifth one was proving to be more than he could handle. It was taking longer and longer for him to get to his feet. And his slow reaction time didn’t save him from a number of hits. Finn went for a pin. At the last half-second, he pulled Seth up from the mat. With a soft pat to the side of Seth’s face, he slid out of the ring. The ref counted to ten while Seth rolled to his stomach, waiting for him to finish the job.

“Why would I beat you tonight, Seth? When I beat you, I want it at Clash of Champions, not on Monday Night Rollins.”

***

Backstage, Drew was nursing his wounds, physical and to his pride. Dolph’s arrival did nothing to better his mood. “What do you want? You’ve got nothing to brag about. Seth beat you.”

“You didn’t do much better.” Dolph took a deep breath and calmed his speech. “That’s why we need to combine forces again. We were so much stronger-“

“No, you were stronger.” Drew towered over him as he stood. “I was held back. Go after your own goals, Dolph, and stay out of the way of mine.”

Part 32: Holiday Havoc (Clash of Champions)

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @hallemichelles @laochbaineann @lavitabella87@ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @southsidebucky @tinyelfperson@zuni21798

WWE/Series Tags: @a-home-for-stray-stories @amballins-priestess @top-1-percent @mother-forker @neversatisfiedgirl @racheo91 @roman-reigns-princess @secretagentfangirl @thetherianthropydaily @wwe-smutfics@scuzmunkie @likeisaidwhatever @cait-kae @ramsaypants @sony-undead18@brianaraydean @st4yingstrong @dopeybubbles @crystallizeme@jessica91073 @denise8691 @stalelight @kenyadakblalock @1dluver13xx @lauren-novak @lunatic-desert-child @littledeadrottinghood @livelifewondering

[bubbleroot-blog]

HOW TO LOOK BIGGER: THE Muscle tissue THAT WILL GIVE THE MOST GAINS

Is your fitness goal a bit unique of the classic "lose weight and look fit" narrative? Do you wish to appearance buff, big, and heavy like professional bodybuilders? If that appears like you, then you've come to the right article. Working on your gains takes more than just gym dedication and the right diet. There are certain muscle groups you should be concentrating on to be able to gain mass and look as large as possible. https://trackandfieldnews.com/discussion/member.php?173609-AndreLez We're going to review how to look bigger by training key muscles and areas of the body. We'll also toss in additional tricks for looking big as well, so keep reading.

Traps Your "traps" refer to your trapezius muscles, aka the triangle shaped muscle that seems to connect your neck to your shoulders/back. Picture a football player or a wrestler in your thoughts: most all of these huge, strong athletes have developed traps that produce them look wide highly, thick, and strong. Building up your traps shall provide your neck and back a broader and thicker appearance. Not merely will building your traps make you appear larger and stronger, but it will also increase your upper-body strength tremendously, which can only help you add gains and size to other areas of your chest muscles as well. One of the best actions to build your traps are "shrug" movements. Both dumbbell barbell and shrugs shrugs are a great trap exercise. You can even work your traps with barbell rows, dumbbell lateral raises, and "heavy carry" exercises like the farmer's carry. Pecs Your "pecs" are your pectorals, aka your upper body muscles. Gaining muscle tissue in this area will make you look wider, and will give your chest a far more "puffed out" appearance, which can make you look and feel bigger. Professional bodybuilders know the need for these muscles and dedicate sufficient time with their bench press in order to gain strength, size, and definition. Learn more bodybuilder secrets by reading through to the top, award-winning bodybuilders to understand what they do to gain size really. That can be done dumbbell presses also, variations on the "fly" movement, and use a upper body press machine to build both your small and major pectorals. If you don't have access to gym tools, classic pushups are a great way to work your chest muscles. Biceps and Triceps You almost certainly aren't surprised to see the two major muscle tissue of the upper hands on this list. Most people equate arm muscle groups with strength, specifically since some find they are the easiest to train and the quickest to get mass. You want to be cautious about training these two muscles equally. If you only train your biceps, you're sure to see a rise in mass. But, you'll appear imbalanced and nonsymmetrical, which won't give you the built appear you're trying to attain. For your biceps, focus on curl variations. This could be classic dumbbell curls, concentration curls, seated wire curls, standing cable curls, incline dumbbell curls, etc. For your triceps, your motions may differ. Dumbell kickbacks, wire extensions, wire kickbacks, and overhead tricep extensions are great options. That you can do traditional "press" exercises to function triceps as well. If you don't have equipment, pushups and dip variants are also great for building tricep power and mass. If one arm is weaker compared to the other, don't worry. That is normal. Focus on balancing the real way you work out each arm to have the right symmetry. Delts "Delts" make reference to your deltoid muscles, aka your shoulders. Beefing up your shoulder muscles will help you look larger by making your current body broader. If you only teach your delts as well as your traps even, you will look bigger significantly. However, training these muscles along with all the current other ones we've mentioned can make your chest muscles look larger, stronger, and bulkier. This combined with a smaller sized waistline will generate the "Dorito" or "V-shape" look that is so sought after. The great news about delts is that you will already be training them with other exercises we've gone over, specifically: Lateral raises Rows Dumbbell press However, you can target them further with an overhead press movement and cable side laterals also. Quads All of the muscles we've gone over up to now have been centered on the upper body. That's not unintentionally: building your chest muscles muscles may be the easiest and quickest way to look physically bigger and stronger. However, in the event that you pair all those large muscle tissue with chicken legs, you are going to look foolish. Quads will be the biggest muscle tissues in your legs, so building them up will make an big muscle appear even bigger already. Teach quads with squat variations: front squats, overhead squats, dumbbell squats, split squats, etc. How to Look Bigger: Other Tips Besides concentrating on certain muscle groupings, consider these tips about how to look bigger. Clothes It can't hurt to size straight down in shirts occasionally to have the materials cling to your gains. Be careful with jeans, though: you don't need to split them if you are squatting heavy before your gym crush. Eat Enough (NOT ONLY Protein!) Building muscle mass means that you should be eating in a caloric surplus. This implies you have to be consuming more calories than you have to maintain your weight since your objective is to put up weight. Be careful with what you're consuming though. It's simple to cram in calorie consumption with extra fat and sugars, but this will add on weight in fat and not muscle. Up your calories from proteins and clean carbs to add on the pounds you desire (aka muscle). Final Thoughts Feelings looking and strong big are big motivators for training. If you are asking "how exactly to look bigger", Ensure that you're targeting the muscle tissues we proceeded to go over in this information. All set with working out tips and questioning your nutrition now? Check out this article on muscle tissue and bulking gaining supplements.