#he is just straight up a meanie who bullies his love interest

[forcebookish]

it's funny to me how many bl/gl fans will watch a series where one of them is a tsundere bully and get righteously angry about it like it's a bug not a feature

[chibicalzones]

what the characters of haikyuu smell like pt. 3

featuring: 𝐧𝐞𝐤𝐨𝐦𝐚, 𝐟𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢, and 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐤𝐢  

read part one and two! 

DISCLAIMER: (just in case) this is my sister’s first impression on some of the boys so don’t take it too seriously! 

warnings: touches on gender and sexuality at some parts.

post made by: alex 🍒 - ALSO I FIXED OUR ASK BOX AND SUBMISSIONS! i didn’t even realize they were disabled i apologize :c but yes, feel free interact with us!! maybe we shall open requests? or at least on my end hehe 

— kuroo: nail polish

a strong aura

has a superiority complex but he knows bc he genuinely believes he’s better than everyone else

a cheater... in every way

wanted to be cool but then he created his own level of c00L B)

was popular - like the freshman that was friends with the seniors for nO reason

wears platform shoes

prefers vans over converse

drinks straight up expresso shots instead of coffee

uninterested in finding a relationship

(little does she know that this actually geeky science loving nerd is the loml so)

— kenma: wet fall leaves

tired of everyone’s bs

wanted peoples’ approval when he was younger but he’s grown out of that. already figured out it doesn’t matter 

“i dont care if my roots grow in”

trans

hangs with the boys

shy

has a mysterious vibes

his old friend group kicked him out and is now a lone ranger

started playing volleyball to find friends and get his emotions out

has his own superiority complex because he wants to feel that he’s better than everyone else but he knows it’s unhealthy 

acknowledges his own problems

likes edgar allan poe

— yaku: apple cocktail with vodka

mix of things: nice but also gets ticked off real easily

if he went to parties, he’d just be playing beer pong

has a girlfriend - one of the few things keeping him nice

doesn’t look he cares for people’s approval of him but he really does

B student

likes science but thinks astrology is stupid

jealous of vinnie hacker on tik tok

straight now but will become gay

— yamatoro: leather

grew up in a uhm... unfortunate place? 

originally dyed his hair to look cool but went with the mohawk 

people think he’s cool but just wants approval

single

dresses different than everyone else 

but now since it’s becoming a trend, he’s really annoyed that he used to get bullied for it

had a michael jackson phase

likes edm

really bad at showing his emotions

pansexual

— lev: pool / chlorine

the kid that pushes you into the pool when you didn’t wanna be there in the first place

makes fun of you for watching anime but recently started watching it

grew up watching pokemon as a kid but he only liked team rocket

ALSO has a superiority complex

capricorn energy, moon in aries

actually dresses up scary for halloween

parents are sweet but he can be a bit of a meanie 

had a toxic relationship with a woman... because he’s actually gay

— bokuto: gasoline

A CAR DUDE SKDJFSKDFJ 

infatuated with cars

specifically owns a tesla in which his dad probably bought for him

spoiled as a kid

the popular kid

every popular person has at least dated him twice

everyone thinks he’s attractive 

the class clown but may unintentionally make fun of people in the process

“iTs mEnTAL iLLnesS isN’T IT?”

has rich parents but at least he has morals!!!

but also might take your lunch money

taken, straight

changes girlfriends every two weeks

my sister basically thinks he’s your every day local fuckboi

— akaashi: burnt pasta

really trying his best 

has good intentions but his execution’s either subpar or just awkward

likes science, specifically physics

really likes making paper airplanes and that’s how he flirts: he writes love notes and sends them your way 

bad at showing emotions so he writes them

doodles and writes in class a lot

a transfer student

hasn’t had his first relationship yet

doesn’t like swimming but he likes pool floaties

knows how to play piano

straight... for now

— konoha: miso soup

a warn person

people who don’t know him are afraid to approach him but to people who are friends with him thinks he’s very comforting

hard on others because he’s hard on himself

has an arch nemesis that fights for his position

passive aggressive but means well

was bullied for the smallest reason... like he owned a spiderman lunch box in third grade

one guy stole his girl and his is SALTY

he’d be very startled if someone came up and hugged him

with that being said, his love language is acts of service

straight

— kita: ink

artistic

he does calligraphy

dabbles in spray paint

a bit conservative 

enjoys watching skateboard falls, parkour gone wrong, etc.

cheated in elementary school

a- a bully

doesn’t let people get close to him

people don’t know what to think of him

rather good at things that people may not realize, but he really doesn’t care if they realize or not

prefers iced tea over lemonade

takes health very seriously and doesn’t drink soda

uses they/them and states he doesn’t need a relationship

but he’s had one in the past and that’s how he figured out

— osamu: cotton

a reliable person

doesn’t necessarily have a lot of friends but cherishes to make sure they feel appreciated 

has a creative side

specifically sketches using pencil

likes movies and goes on movie dates

people like him for how forgiving he is

a hopeful person

has a realistic outlook on life 

very practical 

has several friends that are girls that think of him as an older brother

a lot of people like him but he he already has his eyes on set on someone 

a closeted bi

— atsumu: butter beer

GEEK

a popular kid with a quirk

a marvel geek, his favorite superhero is the th3 classic iron man

likes girls who don’t wear a lot of makeup, also goes for bruh girls

genuinely a nice person

tries his best to be a approachable person but his geeky-ness gets in the way

has strange intentions?

puts a lot of thought into what he does but does it in a not-so-logic way 

needs guidance

questioning life

is NOT like his brother

wants people to like him but he portrays himself weirdly

also questioning his sexuality

takes a gap year before college because he doesn’t know what he wants to do yet

— suna: battery acid

“there’s a potency to his presence”

takes all AP classes

does things for himself but he’s not that full of himself

wants to make it far in life

he doesn’t know what he wants to do but he knows he wants to make a difference in the world 

always chooses to pick up trash for volunteer work

likes math because it’s straightforward

his dream significant other is someone just like him: he needs someone to care for him and soften him up

people say he’s intimidating but his friends say otherwise

into alternative rock

he would dress the way he wanted if he didn’t get bullied :(

pan and single

𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬!

— sakusa: the inside of a missionary

overwhelmed by his own thoughts but whatever he thinks, stays there 

not much of a talker 

he tutors people in math and science

reads a lot of fanfic

has a famous tumblr account - swashbuckler26 and posts abstract and contemporary art

desperately wants to graduate

wanted to become a doctor until he actually started researching

now wants to be an artist

owns peacocks

he has one best friend because they share the same interests but that leads them to argue a lot 

goes by they/them and doesn’t care for a relationship 

asexual 

this is the last part but i’m sure i missed some :/ if you guys have any other characters that you would like her to react to, lmk! hopefully i’ll be able to write for them soon!!! - alex 🍒

[mrthomasdoherty]

What do you think of Kurt’s relationship with:

Rachel

Mercedes

Santana

any other friendship with girl? Brittany or Tina?

Oh boy. Okay.

Rachel: hate it. Hate the way it transitioned to sudden besties out of no where. Hate how it turned Kurt into her cheerleader 90% of the time while she took the 10% to reciprocate (Swan Song for example, that was a good pep talk from her to him). Hate how when he's not with New Directions, she's happy to help him try for a solo because he's her "only competition". Yet, when he tries for leading man material at McKinley, she too laughs in his face. When he gets the NYADA letter and she doesn't, she turns his excitement into her pity party. When he wins Midnight Madness, she turns it into "I guess I'm not talented enough and won't audition for anything". I hate how when she ditches him for fake friends who bad mouth him, she doesn't see that as a red flag to ditch them, until they vote for him and not her. I hate how she manipulates Elliott into claiming Kurt kicked her out when it was her own damn choice, and disowns Kurt when he didn't automatically take her side by playing referee for her outlandish claims against Santana. I hate "my best gay", it isn't cute, it isn't quirky, it's stupid and Kurt Hummel does deserve a better best friend who doesn't just use him to hoist themselves up. I'm glad Colfer called it the fuck out in his episode, even if it was magically fine at the end again just because she showed up to his Peter Pan show - shocker. I hate how she destroyed him being the actual student president by cheating, but that's fine because she owns up to it I guess? Like they still had to claim the cheerleader the winner who did nothing all year, when they could've had Kurt who would actually have done something good, but aT LeAsT sHe WaS HoNeSt right?????? I mean she is the one who also decided to run against him for a hot minute too, but SHE DROPPED OUT GUISE. BFF'S. It would've been so much better if they both went to New York, and then agreed to be roommates because it would be cheaper and we see them expand into actual friendship from there. Kurt doesn't need to stay relevant as a character just by being Rachel's best friend on the fact they both are into Broadway. THAT is the stereotype. Because remember, he's gay and she has two gay dads, so meant to be in each other's lives. Also ew having Rachel as a surrogate, what the fuck. No. Keep that controlling person away from any child of Kurt and Blaine's, that'll just cause more problems.

Mercedes: Maybe it's Colfer and Riley's friendship chemistry showing on screen, but I love and will forever love this friendship. I love that Kurt can admit he's wrong with her! ON HIS OWN! No sob story, no passive aggressiveness, no call out. Him realizing encouraging her to lose the weight was wrong? Growth. No, it isn't a perfect friendship, but it didn't start out of no where either. Kurt being dumb with trying to set her up with dates so he didn't feel bad in befriending Blaine. Mercedes letting her religious blinders encourage Kurt to go to church with her - but at least she approaches this conversation honestly, she doesn't sugar coat it from her point of view, which is good. They're both honest with one another. They're in each other's corners. Kurt Hummel heart eyeing every time she performs is the best. And it's dumb that it got pushed to the back for season 3 and onward. It should've grown from high schooler kids to young adults like a fine wine, instead of getting overlooked. There was potential of Mercedes being the surrogate, or even just another egg donor! But you know, some people needed to be zeroed in on and characters had to be tied to that characters hip, and Mercedes wasn't it.

Santana: Can you imagine how great (or terrible) this could've been if Kurt remained on the Cheerios? We can dream! But what we got in S4&S5 was great. Nice bantering, a mutual respect and understanding becoming a thing over time. They made pacts! They swore to each other about things off screen! She and him would've made a dangerous duo in New York if Rachel never moved back into the loft. She could've encouraged him to loosen up more, he would've helped her unlock a more vulnerable side of emotions when it came to catching feelings! Would've loved to see them bonding more like they did with the boyfriend arms watching TV! We were robbed, and s6 destroyed it all together, so. I wish we could've seen them on double dates, with Dani and Blaine. I wish we could've seen her trying to hook him up with guys in season 4! But no, two Slytherin's teaming up is too dangerous I guess. Fuck you glee.

Brittany: In the first season, it's nice to see that Brittany was the popular girl but still showing up to Kurt's house and dancing with him. It's because of her he joins the football team, briefly, and we get to see him kick ass at it and make a win for the Titans for the first time in however long! That's a big deal. I'm glad that she also approaches him in his "straight" phase and offers to help. And I'm glad she encourages Santana to go support Kurt during Prom Queen. BUT ANYTHING AFTER THAT, is null and void. Because she suddenly becomes this overly stupid child who only wants things done her way. When she offers to help him with his running for class president, she only focuses on him being gay and that's it - because it makes him a unicorn? It's a homophobic school, you really think shoving it in the bullies faces won't get him laughed out of a win? And he ditches the idea last minute anyway, so why bother going with that twist anyway? And when he gives her the rundown on what he wants to do, she ignores him and does it her way. When he gets mad, all of a sudden it's poor Brittany, she was just trying to help, Kurt's a meanie face. And when he (stupidly) accepts her idea for the campaign posters, she's like "oh by the way, I'm running against you now sorry I didn't tell you lol". And the bullshit of season 6 of her telling him that he needs to get over Blaine, then magically wants them to be in her and Santana's wedding? No. Keep her as far away from Kurt as possible after season 2.

Tina: Remember when Kurt fake dates her first? Wouldn't that have been an interesting play throughout that episode? Seeing Burt ask about Tina, Kurt bringing Tina over for dinner, Kurt and Tina discussing this new beard-ship for his dad, and then when he comes out, she would've been so happy for him? WE WERE ROBBED, YET AGAIN. We see them being friends throughout the seasons, but there isn't any growth with it. We don't really see her and Kurt doing things outside of school again. We see her help him for his NYADA audition as Christine (which he replaces her for Rachel, big shock, fuck you). We see him defending her against the jock bullies in the hallway. We see them walking to glee club together. But there's still nothing expanded on so it just falls flat. Clearly she and Kurt talk still after he graduates, as they both enjoy gossip. But what else?! We don't know! It had potential for friendship outside of school and outside of just gossiping! But alas.

[ryan-spinel]

The ABC’s of Spinel Valentine

(also I'm skipping letter I because spinel is straight. I'm also skipping Y)

(Also please comment on this, it took me a long time. Thanks)

A: Aptitude

Spinel in her prepubescent years did a lot of ballet, still going it to this day. She also did a lot of cooking with her momma. She was an innocent, mildly disturbed child. She wasn't really sadistic until teenhood.

Probably when it came to activities, Spinel was very shy and insecure. So she didn't do a lot when she was younger. Although she does go to the karaoke club with Perri and Lexi sometimes, the three also did a lot of roller skating and went to the Sentō’s on Sundays. (also a sentō is a type of communal bathhouse)

I would have to say the two main abilities that spinel has mastered over the years. The first one is killing and disposing of a corpse, she gained that experience by kidnapping and killing domestic cats. She was very sloppy, to begin with, now she knows how to cover her tracts. The second ability is social skills, spinel studied a lot about social interactions and how to win people over. Now she's a master manipulator.

There's only one thing that she's bad at. Which is anger management, due to her having BPD it's hard to keep her cool sometimes? But her BPD will be explained more clearer in upcoming chapters.

I would have to say spinels most impressive talent, is ballet. When she's not gutting and slashing, she's an amazing ballerina. Which will be explained soon.

B: Basics

Her hair color was originally black, but dyed it pink when she met Steven.

Her eye color is Blue but can turn red when she's angry. ( because she has the soul of a succubus)

She’s 5’5, spinel is a petite babey

She is now 16 years old, just turned that in the first chapter.

Now I had to do an BMI to work out her weight, so she's 115 LBS.

C: Comfort

There are four ways spinel sits. The first one is Hands Clasped In Lap in front of family. The second one is Clutching Armrests when at school. The third one is Arms Crossed when with friends. Lastly, she sits with her Hands Resting In Lap when Stevens around.

Spinels sleeping position is The Pillow Hugger

Spinels' ultimate comfort day. Would be snuggling with Steven when it's raining outside, drinking hot chocolate and spinel resting her head on Steven’s chest. Listening to his calm heartbeat.

Spinels major comfort food is pocky. Because she always eats it with her friends at sleepovers, it's the only thing positive in her childhood. She also wants to play the pocky game with Steven.

Steven, only her senpai. Also Grandmother Whitney sometimes,

D: Decoration

She would decorate her house like from classic fairy tale, sort of like Tinkerbells house.

Spinel would decorate her child's room like a calm, soothing style. Like your floating on a cloud.

Spinels room is very girlish, cute and fluffy. She also has a shrine for her senpai Steven. With a photo of him, an old sock, the cookie that he gave spinel a year ago, and his old toothbrush.

Spinels wardrobe has lots of cute outfits and accessories. Most of her cloths are pink.

She does where lipgloss, blush and eyeshadow. Very light make up. She hates girls wherein heavy makeup.

E: External Personality

Not unless you get on her bad side, she has a psychotic messed up personality that she covers up with sweetness.

No, Spinel doesn't to anything typical. Although she hides her true nature with some sanity

Spinel doesn't follow a crowd, she just does and where things that will appeal to Steven.

No see isn't, the only thing she does on social media is stalk Stevens Instagram account.

She hides her true nature, but sometimes it can slip up.

F: Fun

Hang out with her friends, stalks Steven and make chocolate milkshakes

She doesn't like parties, she's a shy baby

Perry, Lexi and most of all. Steven

Yes, spinel keeps her antics low-key

Yes. Mostly to kill someone or something

G: Gorgeous

I would have to say her most attractive feature is her petite figure. She doesn't have a lot of cleavage. But her petite athletic build can be very appealing. Especially to Steven.

Her bubbly cute personality when she is with her friends. But also stands up for herself and the one's she cares about.

She can be very loyal and will do anything for you. As long as you don't like her senpai and respect her.

The part they would like about her is that she's very caring and sweet. The part they would dislike is that she's a murderous psychopath.

People would envy her on everything they see on the outside.

H: Heat

Cold room

Winter

Yes

Paddle-boarding

Skiing

J: Joy

Being with Steven

Steven

Every time we touch by Casecade

She's happy every day, on the outside.

The thought of Steven confessing his love for her

K: Kill

Yes

Already did that

She would kill any potential love interest for Steven

Her family and two closest friends

Connie Maheswaran

L: Lemons

Cherry's

Bananas

Bananas and anything bitter

She has a potassium deficiency

Pocky

M: Maternal

Both

Two

No

Son: Steven, daughter: Whitney

Yes, put they won't allow her to.

N: Never Have I Ever

Forgive their abuser

Have her first time with Steven

Gossip and bully. She hates those things

Slapped a piece a cake out of Connie's hand

Murder a human being

O: Optimism

Optimistic

Yes

Yes, but she doesn't follow her own advice

No

No, she fakes most of it to this day

P: Personality

Her cuteness

Her anger

Her supportive attitude

Her charming personality

She hate people who are meanie's, and hates that she can't feel empathy or sympathy

Q: Questions

No

Yes

Yes

Very

Very

R: Rules

No, but she does if she needs to

A bit of both, mostly strict

Yes

Yes

Yes

S: Streets

Yes

No

Soon

Yes

Very

T: Truth

No

Only her family

No

No

Yes

U: Underdog

Yes

A little bit

Yes

Yes

Yes

V: Vomit

Spinel vomited a lot in the beginning when she was killing cats. Now she's gotten used to the dead body smell

No

No

Killing someone with her bare hands

Yes

W: Water

Yes

Yes

No

Yes

Yes

X: Xylophone

Pop and a mix of all genes

Yes Every time we touch by Casecade

Christina Perri, Imagine dragons and lady Gaga

Yes

No

Z: Zebra

Bunnies

Yes

Cats, because she finds comfort in killing them

A giant pink bun-bun and two pugs

She has a brown French lop bunny named Cotton-tail. She serves as an emotional support rabbit for Spinel

Finally that's over, it took me around an hour and 30 minute. I hope you guys enjoy

[smittenvixen13]

Liar vs Liar

This was inspired by a dream that was INSPIRED by @lenoreofraven ‘s Evil Kwami AU. Except I got Evil Adrien. Let’s hope I did alright! ~ Masterlist AO3 Patreon ~ A man is never more truthful than when he acknowledges himself a liar.” - Mark Twain ~ It started off when he was but a small child, woefully innocent and moldable by the adults about him; Emilie took it upon herself to guide her son in the art of deception, of hiding secrets from others. Secrets were always fun to keep for children, Adrien never minded that they were deceiving his father or Nathalie or any of the others. His mother praised him on his abilities, for them to sneak around.

“No father, we were just practicing our Chinese.” They hadn’t, they had snuck for ice cream. “Yes, I love playing with Chloe.” She was a meanie who bullied even him. It was simple deceptions, little ones no one took notice of or called them out on. If Adrien so happened to be too overbooked to play with Chloe, oh well. It wasn’t like his mother cancelled those scheduled assignments and showed him more interesting things. It was evading his father’s inquires of whereabouts. Oh the museum, the park for the modeling assignment, the fencing academy, always good places to fib about, his mother always there to back up the lie. Lies got daring as he got older, smarter. He could sneak out of the impending mansion by ten, could access his parent’s bank account for spare money easily. Emilie only grew prouder of her son, Gabriel feared the freedom he granted Adrien would cause him harm. It became harder to do some acts, but he would play his part of the caged bird. And then his mother vanished.

It had been hard, suddenly missing the one person who shared his ability in lying, shared his distaste of restraint in his life, shared the growing dislike of his father. Of course he noticed his father closing off from him, noticed him not giving two shits about his only family, only giving Nathalie the time he so wanted. Why was HE never enough?! Why wasn’t his mother?! School had always been one of his biggest wants in life, to actually be free of the pristine prison and join kids his age, see if he could use his skill to charm and keep them as friends…the only friend he had was the blond harpy and her shrill voice. Plagg was a welcomed change in his life. Hawkdouche? Not so much. But if it meant he was a hero, he’d gladly take it. He always loved watching those cartoons, sure he villains were always much cooler but this Hawkass was just plain creepy and USED people’s hurt against them. Not cool. Thus began his new life as Adrien Agreste, naïve and innocent teen model, and Chat Noir, teen cat themed hero of Paris. Marinette…was a special case for him. She was smart and called him out on the gum-though it was all on Chloe-and he had to hand it to her, not many people would stand up against someone rich and powerful enough to squash any kind of chance she had in the world. So, he tried not to use his skill on her-other than covering for his escapes as Chat Noir-and genuinely tried to be friendly. She was apparently nervous around him, always stuttering or being an adorable klutz, but she was never once mean towards him, never once made him feel bad. So, his sweet princess was special. Of course, Ladybug would forever and always hold his heart. She was nervous at first, a true display of a typical hero on their first go, before she allowed herself to bloom and become Lady Luck. She called out Hawkmoth, stood up for Paris, and saved the day-and his butt- nearly every week! She was AMAZING and he loved her, would always love her. His two special ladies. Lila was a definite surprise to their algorithm. She was a liar, a really BAD liar, but he sat through her stories and feigned interest about the idea of a heroine blood line. She couldn’t even keep her damn story straight, saying she was Ladybugs’ best friend-definitely not, that title went to HIM- and then talking shit about her saying she was jealous. It was stupid and her skills were lacking, but her charisma likely saved her, as well as quick thinking. He thought that after that day, it would mean less time to deal with the pathetic liar. Fate enjoyed letting him feel all of his badluck. She was an annoying thorn in his side, his charade hard pressed to slip each time she made a lie, each time she caused nearly the entire class to melt in the palm of her hand. Not his princess, his princess-like his lady, called her out on her bullshit. And like all bullshit, she drew quick excuses explanations out of her ass. He hated it, hated how it tore at him and Marinette alike. But she was a smart, tough cookie, they’d get through it. Lila enjoyed pissing him off, though she didn’t know that. But she likely knew she was pissing off Marinette, loved to play victim and turn the class on his poor princess, forced her into the back ALONE, and her predatory smile towards him only made him want to slip the mask off. She likely didn’t know who she was messing with. So he tried to play his act, tried to calm her down, let her know he knew she was lying, and he was willing to be her friend! The others would be too if she admitted the truth, it wasn’t too late! She stormed off. Chameleon was a hell of a villain to fight, nothing compared to Volpina or Trouble Maker but the record stands; he coaxed Marinette out of calling her out, reassured her they should take the high road and he’d back her up. Like hell he would let his princess suffer. But if only he knew. He visited not three days later, happening to be passing by when he saw her upset on the balcony. That no good, horrible lying bitch had threatened Marinette, told her she’d separate her from all her friends, how she was already starting the plan by alienating Mari from a girls’ hang out because she apparently bullied Lila. He held her close, reassured her things would get better. Maybe not tonight, maybe not the next day, but it would. He got a macaron for his words. The little liar found him leaning against her locker that Monday after classes, most everyone gone and the locker room deserted. “I guess we need to talk.” “Oh Adrien, have you finally realized we’re meant to be?” She practically purrs, though she acted more on the shy act. God, she was pathetic. “No, no, nothing like that, sorry.” He reassures with an ‘apologetic’ smile. “I wanted to talk to you about Marinette.” A flicker of a scowl settled over her expression, letting him see her true feelings towards the noirette, before it shifted to one of feigned hurt. “She’s such a bully! She’s called me such awful names, Adrien!” Her ‘tears’ never fell as she cried into her hands. “Please tell me you don’t believe her!” Moving away from the lockers, he gently tuts at her, shaking his head. “Now, we both know that’s all a lie.” He frowns at her before releasing a sigh, running his fingers through his golden hair. “Honestly, you think I’D believe you over her? Our everyday ladybug?” His scoff was followed by sinister laugh, sounding wrong coming from him. It always did. He should’ve been a villain, he had the laugh down. “Your lying is subpar, pathetic even, I’m surprised none of our class figured you out.” He smiles ruefully, shaking his head before feigning a whisper to her, “But they’re not the brightest lot, are they?” Her shocked expression filled him with sick pleasure. “A-Adrien?” “Honestly, I was going to leave you alone for your lies. It’s only a matter of google, a slip of the tongue, your mother visiting, and POOF! All of this kingdom you’ve obtained GONE.” He shook his head, beginning to walk around her, a cat toying with it’s prey. “You’ve got charm and quick thinking, I’ll give you that but you’re bad at keeping stories straight. At least work on that if you want to be believable. First thing mother taught me. Put enough truth in a lie so it can live.” He hums, peering down at her. “You could’ve kept your little kingdom, could’ve kept lying to our gullible classmates but then you went after Mari…and no one goes after my princess.” He didn’t realize he growled until she released a shocked gasp. Clearing his throat, he continued on, “Now, I can’t exactly expose you. Then I’d been berated for not backing up Mari and not telling my friends the truth, but I can leave some bread crumbs.” He hums, smirking as she began to look nervous. Seems the fox was nothing but a rat. “You may think you’re a liar, but you’re NOTHING compared to me. You make Chloe seem believable. But, go ahead. Tell someone we had this conversation. Go on and spread those lovely little lies you adore, attempting to ruin my and Marinette’s reputation. But then you’ll see what a TRUE liar can achieve.” “Y-You wouldn’t dare. I could ruin you, make all your friends leave you. Make your precious PRINCESS leave you.” She tries to bluff, her hands shaking, her eyes flicking back towards the exit for escape. Adrien felt the wild thrill of the hunt run through him, the kind of exhilaration he got from catching an Akuma, his eyes narrowing as he smirked. “Try me. Leave her the fuck alone.” Standing back straight, he slipped his mask back on, giving her the cheeriest of smiles, the one he knew people melted at due his ‘innocence’. “Glad we had this conversation! I’ll see you tomorrow, Lila, don’t forget to study for the quiz, I wrote down those notes for you for a reason.” Off he went, leaving the broken girl behind.

[trashcanwriting]

Commonwealth Survival Guide

Chapter 2: All I Have To Do Is Dream

Summary: 

Released from her own personal torture, Evangeline is now forced to try and escape the Vault on her own- now trapped in complete isolation. 

Song to Inspire Title: All I Have To Do Is Dream by the Everly Brothers

Previous Chapter: America Of Tomorrow, Yesterday! 

She was imprisoned back into her cryogenic pod the moment she had tasted freedom from being locked away, the moment the child felt they were being released, her mind was brought into the unconscious state she could only vaguely remember. It was a blurring experience, feeling like a dream she couldn't remember the morning after.

Inside her mind for so long, she did not dream, create fantasies or a life for herself in her mind. Memories, things she remembers, is all that floated through her head on a constant repeat. So, she was frozen, where her memories continuously played, with no escape in sight.

The memories felt real; she thought she was still in Aunt Nora and Uncle Nate's house. She felt the hugs and kisses and playing with Louis. One memory she always seemed to gravitate to was the first time she had ever seen her birth mother. The memory was bitter-sweet, almost surreal moment in on itself. It was odd to her that was the point in time that seemed so important to her; it felt so minor to everything else.

Aunt Nora had sat her on the couch, showing her the family albums. Uncle Nate was still in the war, and she had found out some months back her father was dead. She didn't understand why the war was happening, but she hated it. She hated she had not seen Uncle Nate for almost six months, she lost her father to it, and now her Grandmother had refused rights of her.

Aunt Nora must have seen how upset she was, as Eva now sat with a Nuka cola in her hand as Aunt Nora lazily flipped through the pages.

She knew the usual pictures, the ones of her Aunt and Uncle's wedding, her first days of school, Aunt Nora in college, and even some of Uncle Nate and her father in their youth. She was used to these photos and seeing her father made her heart sink more.

Just as Eva was going to close the book, Nora had begun to turn past the pages she was so used to, adventuring to photographs she had never seen. Her Father and Uncle in college, of her Grandmother and Grandfather before they divorced- things Eva had yet to see. If she didn't feel so glump, she would have felt excitement.

"Do you know who this is?" Nora turned her head towards her, smiling warmly. Eva’s eyes followed towards her long fingernail tapping on a photograph.

The photograph was a baby and a woman, and what looked to be her father. The baby had a wisp of jet black hair just as hers, with her icy blue eyes. Her father gripped the shoulders of the woman, so tightly the fabric had been wrinkled by the force.

The baby was hanging off the hip of a young woman; scrawny with straight-leg cigarette pants and a tight, black turtleneck. She had one arm holding the baby, with the other hand making a peace sign. She had her tongue out in a toothy smile.

The woman had a happy grin, an expression so bright it looked like a child's face. "No.. it's not you."

The woman's blonde hair was so long it went all the way to her back- she had never seen a woman have hair that long.

"It's your mother, Betty." Nora was rubbing up against the child’s arm, as Eva tensed. She was never allowed to know who her mother was, the adults in her life avoided the question with either gentleness or simply changing the subject. Her father shut down on her once for asking, locking her in her room for thirty minutes but never said why she was in so much trouble.

She wasn't ever allowed to see her, her hesitant fingertips reached, and gently touched the flat picture. Her mother was holding a baby version of her- and Eva had a fistful of that long, shimmering blonde hair in one grime covered hand. The baby was only half interested in the photograph, sufficiently engrossed in the long mane of the woman.

"She looks different." She glanced back up at her Aunt, who chuckles, going to another page to show Betty sitting on a counter at some restaurant, hands up in an excessive shrug as she grinned, her hands flat at her shoulders on each side. Her legs were crossed, looking off to the corner with that same innocence from the first photo. Her father was in this one also, looking young and without the scars he had gotten from war.

He sat on a bar stool, facing the camera with a stiff posture. He didn't radiate the life or fun the woman did. Evangeline felt a ting of grief as she never got to know this woman.

"Oh, she was, a poetic activist... The only woman who told your father when he was a tight up meanie." She coos, making the child look back at the photo for the second peek- her father looked as he did in the photo albums from years ago. He had the same stern, stoic countenance he had when she knew him. A gloved hand was on the thigh of Betty. He wore his military attire- he always did in formal situations.

Vincint was always dignified; his short black hair had been combed in a precise, clean cut. His attire was always pressed; without wrinkles, without a stain. That uniform was his pride. It was hard thinking of his memory, now that he was gone.

"This was their pregnancy photo, it’s based off the first ever picture of them together."

Nora taps the photo on the next page, showing a much younger pair of the two, Betty was sitting on the same counter, holding a full glass of wine as Vincint had his hand on her knee instead of her thigh. Betty was wearing dungarees pants, a black and white striped shirt far too big for her, and a plain pair of white flatties. He wore a dark button-up cardigan and beige khakis. His posture was perfect- everything of him was neat and organized.

"Your mother loved poems. She named you after her favorite one." Aunt Nora pets her hair quietly as Evangeline continued through the pages of the album.

Eva began to have a big love for poems. It made her feel close to the woman in the pictures and stories. The laughing, happy woman who applied lipstick in the reflection of power armor and fought against the mistreatment of people in America. Aunt Nora fully embraced this new found love and gifted her a poem book on her seventh birthday.

Eva cherished the book full of poems, with an attached ribbon bookmark, the cover was thick, made of leather. She felt so adult when she read the lyrics or carried it around the school. It was her show-and-tell five times in a roll. Those memories, of her mother, seemed happy. Her mother left behind an idea of a perfect woman.

Memories of her father were more bitter. She has memories of being yelled at for not making her bed correctly or getting grounded for getting B's in schools. He wanted perfection from a five-year-old, and she could never provide that. He was so stoic until she did something he didn't enjoy, and then he would become so angry.

It sent a wave of sorrow across her family when he was officially dead- his stream of holotypes had dried, the usual reports, that felt like an official document, where he stated how many he had killed, what weapons used, and what he ate.

Only in passing did he ever mention he missed his daughter or his mother, but that was usually as a side note.  He was an abrasive man, when not shipped off on the front of the war, Eva would dread his homecomings and stay with him. He had a strict schedule, which had to be followed precisely.

Even out of the battlefield, he wanted it, he had been raised as a military brat, and he wanted that childhood for her also. He expected high performance for everything she did, and she would feel drained by his visits. When shipped off somewhere, Grandmother Ethelyn or Aunt Nora would care for her. She rathered them much more.

Aunt Nora lived in Boston, and her Grandmother lived on the coast of Maryland. So the only times she would see Aunt Nora was if Grandmother Ethelyn was going for surgery, requiring someone else watching the child, or holidays when the family would all gather together. She hardly knew Aunt Honora at the time.

Grandmother Ethelyn was an acerbic woman, and she was not gentle or kind like other grandmothers in television or books she had read. She couldn't call her Granny or Grandma like other children; she was to be referred to as Grandmother Ethelyn, even before she could pronounce it correctly, she would have to attempt to say it- even if it was more gibberish at that point.

She was similar to her father but much more watered down on the strict expectations and the life she had to suffer through him. She expected Eva to be independent: Eva was taught to cook, clean, and care for herself once she could walk and form a sentence. She was no-nonsense and expected Eva to be a little lady always.

The rules, the chores, the studying that she had to do, she never felt unloved or not enough. Grandmother Ethelyn told her she was a brilliant child, that she would do amazing things as an adult. If anyone bullied Eva, Grandmother Ethelyn would wait outside the child's house more fired up than a guard dog on a trespasser. Unlike her father, she never felt she could lose her Grandmother's love.

Grandmother Ethelyn was the strongest woman she knew. She could intimate women and men alike. Eva would always feel so protected by her Grandmother. She was a strong woman, who did heavy lifting and labor even in her older years despite her relatives pleading for the old woman to slow down.

She was tough and said everyone needed to be tough in times of wars. She expected Evangeline to be so strong, even if Evangeline couldn't be like her Grandmother, who could lose so much and still be so strong, who could watch her sons go to war and always love her country.

She had never seen Grandmother Ethelyn cry before her Father’s funeral, and if she didn't see it, she might not have believed it. She had seen the woman with a broken leg drive herself to the hospital, cursing and angrily shouting the entire way.

Aunt Nora told her emotional pain was worse; saying she lost her family, and that hurt worse than any physical pain. Evangeline knew that was true, as when they lowered her father into the muddy ground, the senior woman sobbed and screamed, falling to her knees. Grandmother reached for the coffin, and one of her distant male relatives had to grab the poor, grieve stricken woman from jumping in after the coffin.

Her Grandmother screamed and wailed. She kept saying the coffin was empty; her son couldn't have been buried in the soil of the country he loved so much. Evangeline was never allowed to know how her father died, but reliving that memory, the memory of Aunt Nora squeezing her hand so tight it felt it would break, she realized how this is what broke the family, the close-knit community the Clawsons made across the states.

When the worst day of Eva's life was over, Grandmother Ethelyn refused to care for Evangeline. She declined to share a hotel room with the child, and she had to bunk with her Aunt. She left for Maryland soon after and told Nora to get the child's possessions, including her dog. Aunt Nora was happy to gain rights of the six-year-old. Grandmother Ethelyn hadn’t looked at Evangeline the same anymore. She felt she did something wrong, but she never knew what.

Nora stopped going to the Holiday events and begun to refuse contact with Ethelyn after abandoning the child. Evangeline didn't know how to feel about it, but she was happy she got her dog back when Aunt Nora collected her things.

Those memories, the memories of her father's death, her dog running away and Grandmother Ethelyn's abandonment, it was the hard ones, she always seemed to cry harder each time. She wanted to remember only the happy, because still faintly, at the back of her mind, she recognized what was happening outside.

Her favorite memories were Uncle Nate's homecoming, her dog and the days they brought home Shaun, then Codsworth. She always wanted to relive those, the tight hugs she got from Uncle Nate when he scooped her up in his arms, the dinner was still Drumlin Diner. He would order a big burger and fries; because he says, that is what he misses the most.

The memory of when Shaun first came home, and she was allowed to hold him was always so peaceful. He was so little, soft. He wouldn't cry as much, and he would sleep all the time. He was like a baby doll, and Eva never stopped treating him like one.

The year where Shaun was born, when Uncle Nate returned from the war and Aunt Nora found work was the best memories of her life. She could vividly remember the taste of smoky burgers that Uncle cooked on his grill in the backyard, she could almost feel Louis' tight grip on her wrist when he dragged her off to play, the way Codsworth would lift her by the underarms with his grabbers when she kept running.

She remembered sitting in her Uncle's lap, listening so excitedly to the Silver Shroud stopping bad guys. She could remember her Aunt's tender hands holding her cheeks in her hands to plant a kiss on her forehead, she even remembered long drives through Boston with Shaun in his car seat hung over the seat, with her dog's head on her lap. She had never felt so calm and loved before that year.

In these memories, she was safe; she didn't have to remember her Uncle and cousin were stolen, how she was left behind. Maybe she was dead, and this was heaven. By the constant stream of dreams, she was never able to think upon this situation thoroughly. Her body was not her own. Her voice was not her own, it only acted out what she remembered. Like a corrupted recorder, she couldn't break from the cycle.

She couldn't change the past, and no matter how much she tried on that test, when she came home, she was still smacked and yelled at by her father.

She was reliving another numbing day of school when everything went black, it was sudden, without warning and she was drowned in darkness. She couldn't feel herself breathing, nor could she move, the panic set into her mind before her eyes shot open, snapping the daze of unconsciousness as all the memories fade, her mind drew blank of all the time she had spent reliving those memories.

Her lungs took heavy inhales, causing the poor girl to cough as the icy air poorly settled in her lungs. Her body felt weak and beaten, her fingers numb from the ice that surrounded her, that laced her jumpsuit and flesh. The pod releases the door, causing her body to slam against the hard flooring below.

What happened when she was refrozen was bleary, but she had stood and tried to bang on the door of the pod. Which caused her to fall over once the seal had been broken, lifting the metal flap of the clamber. She curled on the hard surface; She was so overwhelmed, her body ached and shivered, her heartbeat felt so slow. She couldn’t think straight past how freezing everything felt, how soaked her jumpsuit was.

She curled, her knees pressed to her chest as she tried to regain her warmth, huffing her lukewarm breath on her redden knuckles. It was such a contrast her mind was blank, attempting to recover.

The ice slowly melted off her, only causing her to become more cold, she held onto her soaked sweater, sniffling quietly. She shut her eyes tight, pretending her Uncle had scooped her up in his warm arms like that winter night when she had fallen in the snow.

She was only semi-conscious, drifting in and out of sleep, her body felt weak with exhaustion, but she didn't want to sleep, she had slept so long- why was she so tired? Her fisted hands were to her mouth, trying to soak in the warmth of her quiet whimpers and breath. Before her, she saw the doll she had been trapped with- laying right beside her. Her hands extend, slowly pulling the comfort item to her chest.

She recovered slowly, her head lifting to see the pod of her Uncle's- emptied. She stampers up, on her feeble knees and hurried across the room to the pod. She had tried to slam her fists against the window, but her eyes caught the lever.

She pulled it down, panicked and moving erratically. The door unsealed, slowly opening. She shoved her head inside once the door had opened wide. The icy water still dripped from the chair, where no one sat. The room was cold, so cold she couldn't stop her trembling. She stood, on sore feet towards the pod that was next to her. Aunt Nora was still inside, feeling a flicker of hope, she trudged towards the glass window of the shell.

Her arms were tightly wrapped around her, her thighs pressed together, panting as she looked to the lever, reaching a meek hand out and pulling it downward. It rang a noise of error, making the young girl released a choked cry of panic.

'Malfunction in Cryo Pod manual release override.' The child had no concept of what the voice meant, panic beginning to fill her senses as the door would not open. She kept slamming the lever handle upward, then down, trying to force it to work. The same error noise came, making her grip tighter against the switch.

She tried the other clambers, gaining the same response. "-Hello? Anyone!?" She yelled, hearing her voice bounce off the walls, her only answer was the humming of machines and the leaking icicles.

Eva couldn't stay calm, she was a child, alone, in a place she didn't know. She started to bunch her fists in her black bob, beginning to pull downward. It was a nervous habit, her doctor said, she missed the rough hands of her Uncle's who pulled her wrists so gently away from her hair, and how her Aunt would run her thin fingers through her hair, humming a calming tone to get her to untense.

But Evangeline didn't have this comfort now, she had to begin her breathing methods to calm herself down-  she needed her Uncle, or a scientist, to get her Aunt out of the pod. That wouldn't be hard, she found adults all the time where she thought there were none. She removed her hands from her hair, gingerly, as she saw all the black strands on her palm. She narrowed her eyes as she realized what she had done.

She had pulled her hair again, that wasn't good- she hasn't done that since her father died. She waves the strands the best she could, but her clammy hands kept the strands glued to her skin. Frustrated, she just rubbed her hands against the skin-tight suit. She felt so constricted in the blue suit, wet and cold. It was like a constant hose of cold water sprayed over her.

Walking past the sleeves of chambers, the echoes of her footsteps reminded her of how alone she indeed was. When she breathed, soft wisps of clouds left her lips, the constant sound of dripping water followed her in these metal, blue walls. She hated it. She missed her warm house, where her stuffed toys and blanket were, where Codsworth was.

The bay door slides apart as she began towards it, letting out a soft noise of relief as she saw the emptied corridor. The hallway was once filled with people and scientists, but now all that laid was a scattered toolbox, and a few other miscellaneous possessions laid alone. She longed for the steady hand that guided her this far before, and the voices that echoed off the metal shell of the Vault.

Now all she heard was her heavy breathing and the spattering of the dripping water. Everything was cold and foggy, making everything even more uncomfortable. She felt as if a monster, maybe the rubber-skinned one that took her Uncle away- would be here any minute to snatch her up.

Clinging to her damp stuffed companion, she stood before the tall door, tilting her head when it wouldn't open. She placed a hand upon the chilled metal, feeling a shiver journey from her palm to her spine. Eva gulped, realizing the entrance would not open for her. She looked about the short hall, two doors stood opposite the wall of the other.

She held onto the doll tighter, brushing her cheek against the head of the thing as she attempted the next door beside her, watching it open before her. She exhaled a breath she had not realized when she saw the next room. Her chest heaved with sudden excitement, as she knew adults must be close. Someone who help children like her find her Uncle or get her Aunt out of those cold pods- any adult, who could fix what was happening to her.

That was what adults did. Uncle Nate had taught her to go to adults for problems, from scraped knees to feeling lost on a math problem. The sight before her came alive as the door slid upward into the wall, a long, blue staircase stood before her.

The stairsteps had minor aging, some of the yellow paint had chipped, as the metal beneath her had rusted from the constant moisture in the air. She felt she would slip and fall from the slick texture of the flooring beneath her feet. Her black boots squeak as she held onto the saturated railing, using it as support as her other hand pressed tightly against the doll on her chest.

Her steps echoed, intertwining with the other noises- she couldn't help but feel the isolation. As she entered the new area of the Vault, she noticed the fog was less dense here, in this small room, yet outside the window, she could still see the thick fog that lingered where the pods had been. Eva's eyes were unfocused, simply roaming as she strolled her way through before she saw a large, darkened spot on the window.

Tilting her head, she attempted to get a closer look- only for the spot to crawl down from the window, towards the metal floor. Her heart sank, beating against her ribcage to a painful degree. It was some giant bug! The biggest she had ever seen! Her free hand went to the collar of her sweater, taking a cautious step back as the bug seemed to take more interest in something else, flying off the window- she realized it had been on the other side of the window pane.

She stood there, struggling to recover- she swallowed thickly as she squeezed the comfort item, evening her breath. Her hands were holding tightly on her sweater so she would not pull her hair again- Uncle said it was a bad habit and she needed to learn to stop. She bit her lip, chewing at the inner flesh of her lower lip until she felt a calm wave over her once more. She inhaled, releasing all the tension in her body.

Moving forward, she took a moment to scan the layout of the lower section she had indentured to- the small place only had one sliding door, so, she began towards it. Her eyes glance back to the higher zone she had just departed from, she had no idea of how large this vault was so she may might get lost.

Eva made a mental note as she walked through, she wished she had some chalk, she had some in her room, but she was rushed out so fast, she couldn't have brought anything but Booboo. The next door was just as the others, unadorned with the yellow label of '111' upon it. The door opened for her when she stepped forward, allowing her to travel further inside the maze she had been stuck in.

The long, curling corridor had beige paint to it, perhaps she was near the end! The lights dimmed, this room had no fog, but the dust was flowing inside the room inside the rays of shining illuminations. Her pace quickened, finding yet, another door in front of her. She was becoming sick of the sight of doors and new rooms and then another door. She looked down to Booboo.

She tried to soothe her nerves humming a song, humming a quiet tone her Aunt would play while she read over a case. It was a song her mother used to love when she was younger, as she was told. She swayed her head to the tune in her mind, as the next sliding door released her from the room, revealing the next one.

Blue returned to this room, it was much larger with a table only a few feet from her, when she scanned over her surroundings, she saw an opened kitchen area and another door. Her hand grazes across her torso, feeling the sudden realization of how hungry she was. She had been dreaming of food she almost forgot she hasn't eaten for a while, maybe a week.

Her mind perked at the idea of food, she first went to the table, hoping for a clue to find an adult with. The surface had been barred of possessions other than a simple Beaton, the one with those guard used in those news footages she wasn't allowed to watch. She held it, it felt a bit wet, almost hard to use with such a lanky handle in her tiny hand.

She had only a moment to think, as she heard the slithering of something on the hard ground, rolling her heels to see another huge bug, and it was coming towards her! She tried to step back, newfound fear and panic slowing her speed to sluggish pace, as the roach lurched forward, it bit her ankle, and despite the thick layer of her boots, she felt the painful pinch of the bug bite.

The attack pierced the flesh, she screamed, swinging the new found weapon as she banged it over and over the now crushed corpse of the insect. She flopped backward on her backside, looking to her bloodied ankle- the fabric was torn as around the newly opened wound was becoming painted with red.

She wept there for some time, in frustration, in pain, in fear. She slammed her fist against the floor, having a fit as she couldn't take it anymore. It felt like a nightmare, big, scary bugs, all alone, and the creepy noises that followed her in this vault. She slammed her feet against the metal floor, crying heavily, yelling until her throat was sore. This continued until her cheeks were streaked with salty tears, her voice was rasped and her eyes were dried from crying them all out.

After a moment of rocking as she held her doll, she sat back up, going towards the kitchen area. Though, despite searching thoroughly, there was no food to be found. She felt so hungry, so thirsty, how could there be nothing? She went through the bedroom with the bunk beds, but it was bare. Everything was so bare.

The rooms were stripped, and without a sign of life but in the littering trash. She felt slighted, she just wanted to eat! She just wanted her Uncle and Cousin safe, or for her Aunt's pod to open! Why wouldn't anything work? She rubs her face in exasperation, letting out grumbles and murmurs. Leaving the room, she came to the next one. This one had some lighting shooting out from the large, box-like structures in the center of the room. This room was large but looked to the only house whatever these large, lightning boxes were.

Being soaking wet, she knew she didn't want to get a shock. She presses to the wall, sliding past before she heard the same crawling from before. She barely had time to smack the head of the thing with her Beaton before it flew up again. She hated that those terrible things could fling itself at her.

When she got to the next door, she found what looked to be an office of some sort, everything was muddled and messy, like the rest of the vault. The decay was still here, and she found something in the chair of the long desk. Her eyes fluttered at it; mind drew blank before she came to the sense it was a Halloween skeleton. It was October! She kneels before what she had presumed was a prop.

She stood back up, turning as she took a full look at the room.

"Hello? Anyone!" She shouts, she had wandered inside the Overseer's bedroom, finding yet, another emptied room. She looked through the locker, only to find a box of bullets and a single messager bag, thick blue leather with Vault-Tec's logo embedded on. She slid it over her shoulder, she promised to return it to the owner when she found them.

Eva grunts, trying to keep herself from boiling over again. Was she really all alone here? Vault-Tec was supposed to help her, keep her safe. She returned to the main office for the overseer, guns scattered alongside the surface with some needles-like weapons. Her eyebrows furrow, knowing what this was, a stimpack. She hated stimpacks! She had to take one when she broke her arm riding a bike, Uncle shoved it into her arm and pressed the button. Something foreign, wrong, entered her, going through her bloodstream.

But her broken arm healed on the way to the hospital, they were so fast and when she grew used to the feeling, painless. They came commonly in first aid kits and even Aunt Nora had some stored in the bathroom's mirror cabinet. She grabbed one, stabbing the needle into her shoulder as she pushed the chemicals into her bloodstream. She felt them course, making her fingers curl in reaction.

The wound on her ankle, the minor bruises of being tossed out of the pod and frostbite faded from her skin. She grabbed the next two, placing them inside the emptied bag as she continued around the room, anything that looked interesting she would take. For a child, anything shiny or unique to her world view.

She saw the gun on the counter; Uncle Nate would be so angry if he saw her with a gun without adult observation. He had taught her faintly how to hold one and aim, but she wasn't truly shown how to use one. She held the gun. It was so much more massive than one would think, the trigger didn't seem to have hesitation as she did; a quivering finger could kill a man without a thought.

The pistol laid a new weight in her palm, holding the handle tightly. The idea of shooting a roach up gave her more peace of mind than that Beaton that she had stashed away in her newly found bag- she would return it to whoever it belongs to when she found an adult. She tried to make her way out to the next door, seeing it not opening like the other one. Her hand presses to the door, but still, the metallic door would not budge.

"Dang it!" She shouts, stamping her feet as she was met with another locked door. She crosses her arms, taking the sight of the small room once more. The room but bare of everything but the terminal that still laid on the surface- she had taken everything else.

Moving the Halloween prop, She sat the comfy seat up. She seated herself as it creaked in old age. She attempted to start up the poor thing. The computer outer layer was full of decay of time and tears. Her caregivers had a family terminal so she could understand the general layout.

Her eyes perk at the option to open the tunnel door. She clicked it within seconds of reading it, before happily crawling off the chair and hurrying off towards the door. She lifted her shoulders, grinning with glee as she opened the door all on her own!

She ran towards the door, only to find the population of roaches that were on the wall. She moved slowly, lifting the pistol in her hand and aiming the barrel at the first.

She pulled the trigger, she felt the wind knocked out of her, the bones in her hand trembled. Evangeline cried out, stepping back and recoiling in sudden pain. Her ears rang as she used the hand holding her doll to grip against her earlobe.

She had only used a BB gun before; a real gun was so much worse. She barely had time to recover when the same creeping of insect feet filled the air. How in the world was there so many? With little time for thought, she had begun to bang the barrel of the gun as a weapon.

Each slam of the metal against bug made a disgusting crushing of guts and innards. She shivers at the sound, stepping back at the dead bugs she had just slaughtered.

The gun was now coated in bug remains, she gagged, tossing the dirty thing in her bag as she went for her Beaton again. Luckily enough, the gun did the job as a Beaton and got rid of the rest of the disgusting things. She stepped past the crushed spatters, going towards the next door.

Another beige room was what she was met with, she felt the tingle of hope drain from her form as she trudged forward, feeling near tears. She follows the curve of the room, holding the handle of her Beaton tight. She was going to get out, she would escape. She would find Vault-Tec workers and get her Aunt out, she would find Policeman who would get back her stolen loved ones. She felt so exhausted, so mentally and physically tired from running about the small Vault, she didn’t know if she believed that anymore.

She couldn't go much longer, she wanted to go home. To see Codsworth, and if Ducky had been found yet. She came to the next door, releasing a breath she had not known she was keeping in her lungs and walked forward to the metallic pane to see if she was finally out.  

The door slid apart, to display the room that seemed she was in only a moment prior with her Uncle.  The room was cold, with a moist fog that lingered. The room smelled of stale water and something rotten, Evangeline couldn't put her finger on the odor. She moved forward, feeling the fatigue placing weight on her shoulders.

The roach came forward, barreling towards her before she swung the Beaton a single time, hearing the scream-like squash as it laid motionless, crushed to death in one smack. It was getting easier to kill those things, and she was happy for that, she couldn't handle another thing hurting her.

She sidestepped the props that littered in the floor and the sideways table.

She walked to the platform, and tried to remove the plastic cover of the button, grunting in another wave of frustration washed over her, she had begun to bang her fist on the plastic lid of the electric board. She stomped her foot once before she felt an object bounce off the blue, rusted floor. Evangeline glanced down, to find a Pip-Boy in the wrist of a decor skeleton.

Her Uncle wanted one so badly, but they could never afford one. Aunt Nora said he should have been gifted one for being a War Hero, she kneels, lifting the dusty thing to her face. She drew a smiley face in the dust covering the screen, she knew this would be a great present for her Uncle! She snapped it to her wrist, flicking a couple of the buttons until it came online.

She smiled at it functioning, wiping off the rest of the dust with her sweaty palm. The smeared screen still allowed her to see the Vault Boy holding a thumbs up at her, making her instinctively copy his gesture back at the screen. She copied the Vault Boy's thumb pose when she saw it- her Uncle would laugh when she did it. Her face fell as she tore her eyes from the screen, finding herself isolated with only the hums of the machine to be her friend.

Evangeline was happy for a new toy, but she still needed to get out of the metal cage.  She felt the hanging cord from the Pip-Boy dangling and bumping against her stomach, she grabbed it and glanced over the metal piece meant to connect to something. So, she inserted it inside the hole of the board, joyous as it entered, and the plastic lid flew upward.

She nearly jumped in pure joy for how fast that was- she was almost out! Almost to adults! She slammed her palm against the button. Her reaction was cut short only seconds in her celebration by the sudden flashing of lights.

'Vault door cycling sequence initiated. Please stand back.’

The Vault suddenly became dim, with only flashing white lights being the source of electricity. An orange circling spotlight began to activate- so much happened at once that Evangeline covered her ears, whining at the surroundings becoming slurred and different.

The Vault door was unsealed by the box machine that hooked from the ceiling moving forward, connecting to the door and pulling it side, so she was quick to hurry and climb atop the gate platform. The machine shook to action, beginning to connect to the Vault door slowly. It squeaked and whined in protest as it was rusted and time withered, barely able to make the journey to get her to the other side.

There, she was met with the same steps she was forced up with her Uncle, the same water dripping and robotic hums she had grown used to. The paint was rusted and peeled, giving the place an abandoned, aged appearance. The metal husk of the bunker was silent other than what she did, how her footsteps echoed, how her voice traveled through the halls. The total isolation was bringing her closer to panic. The lack of adults and live made her so nervous, she couldn't wait to get out of the Vault, to see adults and Louis.

The adrenaline was fading, she could feel the weakness in her legs and the wear of her mind. She could imagine nights of falling asleep on her Uncle's lap while listening to the Silver Shroud, where she would be half awake as she was carried to her bedroom, then tucked in. She would be given a kiss on the forehead by him, his warm palm running over her cheek. She ran her petite hand over her cheek in the same fashion, hoping for the same effect- but her chilled flesh didn't give the same comfort.

Nights of being sung British nursery rhymes from Codsworth and Aunt Nora's silky voice filled her tired mind as she made her way down the steps. The echoes of her own feet almost mocked her by how loud it was, how the dripping water rang in her ears, it was silent, lifeless.

Where were the adults? They were everywhere before, filling the rooms to the brim but now, now it was so quiet. Quieter than waking up at night in her suburban home, quieter than locking herself in her room after school to read books and poems, the silence was numbing her brain.

She stepped onto the elevator, and without her having to so much as lift a finger, it began to close the metal barring, trapping her inside. The child chose then that she was freed and safe, it was time to allow herself to give in to all the overwhelming emotions she felt. She allowed her legs to give out on her, flopping down on the floor below her.

Eva rested her legs, rubbing her calf as she glanced around her new surrounding. The shaky machine was slowly lifting her upwards. She hugged her knees to her chest, taking a moment to breathe- no adults were in the vault, they were all frozen, but she couldn't get them out. Maybe the rubber-skinned monster and her Uncle were in the surface, up above. But, that big explosion… what would that mean for everyone?

She covered her face in her knees, beginning to sob lost in her thoughts, of the realization that maybe she was all alone.The welling of tears finally beginning to pour. She whined meekly, allowing her shoulders to quiver and slack against her frame. She just wanted her Uncle, she wipes her nose, maybe Codsworth was still there, he always knew what to do, when she scraped her knees, when her caregivers weren't home and she needed a permission slip signed and it was the day of the field trip.

The darkness swallowed her, this time, she wasn't encased in strong arms and a soothing hand on her head. She was alone, shivering quietly, as she saw the entrance of the vault slowly open, sliding apart as rays of light shined through. It burned her irises, making her cover them at first as she was brought face to face with the outside world once more.

The warm washes over her frozen skin, her hand lowers from her eyes so she could see the beauty- all she saw a barren wasteland of death. The grass was dead or gone, the trees were stripped of life, and the prop skeletons from inside scattered the world surrounding her. It was so much more warm but louder, less welcoming than the vault. As her eyes roam the new realm she found herself in.

Evangeline could only wonder what new monsters laid awake for her here. The cold wind hit her flesh, as she slowly steps off the hard floor. "Hello!?" She called out, to anyone to hear her. She walked towards the gate, "Louis?" She cried, walking past the gate’s entrance towards the dirt path she knew so well.

The dirt path seemed more ominous than the last time she had been down this road, and the times she and Louis had been playing in the borderline of the forest. The way they could run from the curves of the trees, using leaves and sticks as ammo, and chasing each other from one side of the forest to another were some of her best memories.

Now, the leaves were gone from the bark; the wildlife she had loved was withered and gone. Leaving a pit of a feeling she could not describe, a lonely, isolated emotion. A feeling of being the only thing alive in such a place surrounded by death. On the new lonely road, she headed to the place where she thought Codsworth would be.

Her home, Sanctuary Hills.

[astralgloss]

im a curious meanie so 1-134 muhahaha you get to relive the hell i just went through

etab i haTE U

1: Name

my name is marit lol but please just keep it mar

2: Age

i am 17 but i’ll b 18 in 2 months!!!!

3: 3 Fears

the dark, complete and utter loneliness, and clowns

4: 3 things I love

books, forest fruit tea, the sound of rain

5: 4 turns on

a nice smile that reaches the eyes, a nice smell, having a dog ngl, a soft touch

6: 4 turns off

extreme arrogance, insisting to pay for my meal if i want to pay bc its “what a man should do”, forcing lifestyles on me, not caring about my interests

7: My best friend

she does have tumblr but idk it but hey demi if u ever see this ur the bomb.com

8: Sexual orientation

im bi fam

9: My best first date

my bf and i went to amsterdam to go shopping and he followed me everywhere (even the bookshop even though he hates books) and idk i just love him it was a nice day

10: How tall am I

im 1,65m or 5′4″ but i can and will kick ur ass

11: What do I miss

nothing really??

12: What time was I born

ok so i asked my mom and she said i was born on a tuesday at exactly 12pm but i bet she’s lying

13: Favorite color

yellow!! im basic!!

14: Do I have a crush

well i sure hope so @ boyfriend

15: Favorite quote

to the stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered

16: Favorite place

my bf’s house tbh, specifically his bed

17: Favorite food

pizza, specifically the hot chicken one from ny pizza

18: Do I use sarcasm

nah fam (ofc i do im a little shit)

19: What am I listening to right now

god is a woman by ariana grande

20: First thing I notice in new person

how they look at other people when those people don’t notice it

21: Shoe size

38/39 idk the other size lol sorry 

22: Eye color

its blue but it changes with my mood (oh my god im so sorry im kidding please don’t hate me)

23: Hair color

im a blondie

24: Favorite style of clothing

sth casual but also a bit towards the punkish style, but i also rlly love looking tiny and soft and cute lol

25: Ever done a prank call?

ok so there’s this hotline for kids who have troubles with their parents and families but it was a shit hotline tbh so once i called it up with my friends pretending i was crying and the man on the phone asked me what was wrong so i told him that all my friends had fire type pokemon and i only had grass type pokemon and they kept beating me and i didnt know what to do and then man was so confused it was funny af

27: Meaning behind my URL

idk man i wanted a name that could b easy to remember and i was inspired by ridgeport tbh

28: Favorite movie

the perks of being a wallflower

29: Favorite song

Fav song atm is anything from p!atd's newest album and my fav song of all time is probably train of consequences by megadeth

30: Favorite band

megadeth lol

31: How I feel right now

pretty good but also annoyed bc i have to go to work in half an hour :(

32: Someone I love

my bf

33: My current relationship status

if u guys havent noticed by now im taken

34: My relationship with my parents

p ok

35: Favorite holiday

halloween/christmas

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

I have my ears pierced and thats it lol

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

i rlly want a few bookish related tattoos, like a tiny raven, a little lightning bolt, and the city of velaris and then i also rlly want a sleeve tbh but imma be a teacher and idk if i can :/ about piercings: i rlly want a helix or tragus and maybe get second holes in my hearlobes

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

ok so ive been on tumblr for about 5 years and initially it was bc i was Depressed™ and then about a year ago i found out about simblr and i was hooked

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

tbh i dont even talk to him anymore i dont rlly care about him in any way

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

yes bih

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

hes my bf so yea lol

42: When did I last hold hands?

wednesday

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

about 45 minutes bc im lazy and i keep getting distracted

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

nope

45: Where am I right now?

in bed lol

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

either my bf or my best friend

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

depends on where i am

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

mom

49: Am I excited for anything?

tbh moving out but thats gonna take a few more years

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

*insert bf here*

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

every time im at work lol

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

wednesday

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

lol bye

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

nope

55: What is something I disliked about today?

the fact that i have to work a day shift instead of an evening shift

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

my internet friends tbh it’d be cool to meet all the people from my bookish discord or from @booptherat​‘s discord

57: What do I think about most?

what book i should read next

58: What’s my strangest talent?

i can finish a book in about 4 hours

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

not rlly? i hate the whole asmr thing tho ew

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

behind lol

61: What was the last lie I told?

i dont remember tbh

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

neither lol

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

look im not saying that believing that we’re the only living species in the entire universe is narcissistic, but it is. also dont fuck with ghosts

64: Do I believe in magic?

hell yes

65: Do I believe in luck?

hell yes

66: What’s the weather like right now?

idk probably cloudy and windy

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

fahrenheit 451 by ray bradbury 

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

nah not rlly

69: Do I have any nicknames?

i guess mar?

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

when i was 2 i fell from sth and slammed the corner of my eye onto the corner of a table and i couldve been blind but thank god im not

71: Do I spend money or save it?

both 

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?

yup

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

post it notes

74: Favorite animal?

doggg

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

reading lol

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

idk man

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

i gotta feeling by the black eyed peas lol

78: How can you win my heart?

give me a samoyed and a 1000 books

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

“a boss ass bitch”

80: What is my favorite word?

fuck?

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

@cubersims​ @imvikai​ @ridgeport​ @cowplant-pizza​ @bloomlet​ @tiptoptab​

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

spend fiddies, pet kitties, hold tiddies

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

not that i know of lol

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

the power to choose whatever power i want at any moment

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

“do you like working here?”

86: What is my current desktop picture?

its an august background from @emmastudies​

87: Had sex?

yes

88: Bought condoms?

no

89: Gotten pregnant?

no

90: Failed a class?

yes

91: Kissed a boy?

yup, i’ve been kissing my bf for about 2,5 years now lol

92: Kissed a girl?

yup, i’m living the bisexual dream lol

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

yes

94: Had job?

yes, im working at a movie theater right now!!

95: Left the house without my wallet?

tbh all the time now that i can pay with my phone

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

yea i used to but that was when i was 12 and i’d like to say that i’ve grown a lot in the past 5 years

97: Had sex in public?

nope

98: Played on a sports team?

yes

99: Smoked weed?

nope, even though i live like 20 minutes away from amsterdam lol

100: Did drugs?

nope

101: Smoked cigarettes?

nope

102: Drank alcohol?

yupppp, i love me some raspberry cider

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

nope

104: Been overweight?

nope

105: Been underweight?

nope

106: Been to a wedding?

yup

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

lol all the time tbh

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

yup

109: Been outside my home country?

yup, however never outside of europe tho

110: Gotten my heart broken?

a few times

111: Been to a professional sports game?

yess, i saw the dutch female volleyball team once!

112: Broken a bone?

nope

113: Cut myself?

yes

114: Been to prom?

we dont do prom in the netherlands lol

115: Been in airplane?

yes

116: Fly by helicopter?

nope

117: What concerts have I been to?

k3 (only dutchies and belgians remember this), one direction, megadeth, and ed sheeran

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

yupp

119: Learned another language?

i mean im from the netherlands and im fluent in english thanks to myself

120: Wore make up?

yuppp

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

yes

122: Had oral sex?

lol yes

123: Dyed my hair?

nope

124: Voted in a presidential election?

not old enough to vote :(

125: Rode in an ambulance?

nope

126: Had a surgery?

nope

127: Met someone famous?

nope

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

nope

129: Peed outside?

a few times lol

130: Been fishing?

nope

131: Helped with charity?

yep

132: Been rejected by a crush?

a few times

133: Broken a mirror?

lol yes

134: What do I want for birthday?

some books, money, cake, more books, makeup

[samanthasroberts]

How Knowing A Few Key Phrases Completely Changes Wrestling

The following collection of words will sound like total goddamn gibberish to most of you, but hardcore wrestling fans will know exactly what I’m saying: “Can you believe the canned heat they just piped in for that jobber? It was supposed to be a basic promo, but he worked himself into a shoot, and now smarks are going to be crying about how he needs a mouthpiece.”

This is one of the greatest parts of wrestling to me: the behind-the-scenes terminology. It says so much about the industry, once you know what it all means. Most of it was started in a time when wrestling was presented as a legitimate competitive fighting sport. They were code words that were only known to the people who were in the business. For instance, “jobber” is code for a sort of no-name wrestler whose sole purpose is to lose to bigger stars. But if it’s 1970, and you’re telling the world that the sport is “real,” you can’t exactly give away the fact that this guy’s job is “professional loser.”

But it gets better …

5

Mark/Smark

“Mark” is a straight-up conman term. It was used by carnival workers back in the ancient times when people went to carnivals on purpose. A “mark” was the victim of rigged games or the target of a con. So let’s say you were a worker who was running a game booth where the object was to knock down a stack of milk cans with a baseball, but one of them was filled with concrete … when someone walked by, showing interest, you’d think, “Here’s the mark who’s about to make me some sweet milk-can money.”

Outside of the “con” aspect, it was a carnival term that was used literally. If you were paying for your ticket, and the person in the booth spotted that you had a lot of money, someone would grab a bit of dirt or chalk and discretely mark your clothes, so the game-booth workers would know who had money to spend and who didn’t. That way, they didn’t waste their time on broke-ass punks who were just there to look at the shiny prizes.

A mark in wrestling is someone who gets really into certain performers or heavily buys into the story lines. You’re falling for their performance in the same way that you’re falling for the milk-can trick. In the most basic sense. In the world of wrestling fans, “mark” is often used as an insult. So if someone’s a fan of John Cena, and I often picture John Cena on fire, I’d insult that fan by saying, “Oh, so you’re another Cena mark, huh? What are you, twelve?”

At the same time, it’s a term of endearment. “Holy shit, I totally marked out when the Dudley Boyz returned!” Wrestlers typically love marks because it means they’re enjoying the show for what it is. Well, that and marks are pretty easy people to sell t-shirts to.

“Smarks” are a different story. It means “smart marks,” and they are typically people who keep up on the behind-the-scenes aspects of wrestling. They know when a performer has been legitimately injured, versus a story-based fake injury. They know which performers are dating. They know that the reason Chad Wrestleman has not been on TV for a month is because he got busted for snorting oven cleaner. Wrestlers. Fucking. Hate. Smarks.

You see, smarks are the ones who can get an entire crowd chanting about real-life controversies, right on the air. Recently, John “Bradshaw” Layfield has been in wrestling news for allegedly bullying one of the announcers right out of the industry. He’s been known as a piece of shit for years, but the newest story is what got smarks to lead the audience in a chant of, “FIRE BRADSHAW!” Smarks are the ones who got Nikki Bella to respond to them with this:

Via Twitter

That looks like a spilled Scrabble board to regular readers. A regular fan knows that when John Cena comes out, there is a long standing tradition of half the crowd chanting, “Let’s go, Cena!” The other half chants, “Cena sucks!” Smarks knew that Nikki Bella and John Cena had started dating in real life … so they modified that chant to, “You suck Cena!” Smarks aren’t exactly known for their wit and charm, but that shit made it on the air.

4

Work Yourself Into A Shoot

This is probably my favorite wrestling phrase, because it says so much about the psychology of performing. In general, when a wrestler picks up a microphone and goes into his or her spiel, that’s called “cutting a promo.” Everything they’re saying is adding to the promotion of a match, a story, a pay per view, a movie … whatever project needs pushed. All of the stuff they’re saying — in character and adhering to the story — is called a “work.” It’s scripted. It’s planned out in advance. I mean, obviously, they’re not going to let them grab a mic and start going off about how Hitler did nothing wrong. Unless the story demands it, in which case, it’s fair game. The point is, their words and actions are controlled. They’re worked.

A “shoot” can mean either 1) really fighting in the ring, like when Perry Saturn legitimately beat the fuck out of Mike Bell for botching a move, or 2) when a wrestler drops the character and starts talking about real shit. You mostly see this happening in interviews, outside of the WWE. Here’s Jim Cornette shooting about “accidental” nudity that happened in WWE matches in the past:

And here he is, shooting on the idea of shoot interviews:

“Working yourself into a shoot” can happen verbally or physically. It happens when you start off talking or wrestling as planned (a work), but as you go on, something legitimately pisses you off, and you start “throwing live rounds,” as Blue Meanie so eloquently put it (a shoot). The part that fascinates me is that the trigger that pisses you off doesn’t have to come from an outside source. Simply acting and getting too into the role can do it.

The best example of it happening, verbally, is on an episode of Talking Smack. That’s a scripted show (or at least partially scripted) by the WWE. On one episode, Smackdown general manager Daniel Bryan called “The Miz’s” wrestling style cowardly. He wasn’t talking about his in-story fights. He was talking about him as a performer, playing things too safely. Though Miz tried to bring things back around to a character-driven response in the end, everything else is him legitimately losing his shit. Note: That is just my opinion, based on knowing how he sounds when he acts mad. If this is all acting, he deserves an Oscar:

The thing about a shoot is that it’s a double-edged sword. Say too much and badmouth the wrong person, and they’ll fire your ass. But do it in just the right way — which means getting lucky, because you’re in no position for self control when you’re that pissed off — and the critics will praise you forever. That video above is considered to be The Miz’s best work of his entire career.

3

Canned Heat Vs. Legit Heat

You’d think that “canned heat” and “legit heat” would be opposite terms, but they’re fairly unrelated. Both are important, though, in understanding the psychology of the business.

Sometimes, an audience simply isn’t into a character. Maybe he’s just a boring turd. Maybe the crowd is exhausted after a couple hours, and they’ve lost the energy to cheer and boo at every little thing that happens in the ring. When an on-air wrestling promotion wants the people at home to buy into the illusion of excitement, they’ll “pipe in” boos or cheers. I don’t know if wrestlers call it “canned heat,” but fans do.

This is especially useful if the promotion wants a certain character viewed in a specific way. If the crowd suddenly starts liking and cheering a heel (bad guy), they might replace those cheers with pretaped boos and even new commentary. Personally, I couldn’t give less of a shit whether they do it or not. I just find it interesting that crowds are unpredictable, and sometimes for the benefit of the overall product, you have to steer the at-home viewers in a specific direction. If I had the time to rig it up, I’d pipe in canned heat every time I entered or exited my house.

“Legit heat” is what gives smarks their gossip boners. It can sometimes be used to describe a crowd that legitimately hates a character, but it’s more frequently used among fans to talk about performers who are in real-life, behind-the-scenes tiffs. Here are a bunch of wrestlers talking about legitimate backstage heat in the form of beating the urine out of each other:

But “legit heat” can also mean getting in trouble with the big dogs. Vince McMahon is fairly notorious for losing his shit on wrestlers who screw up or say the wrong thing on the mic … or, hell, just don’t look the way he wants them to look. Put “Vince McMahon heat” into YouTube, and you’ll get 127,000 results.

YouTube

But that says a lot about the business to me. In a testosterone-fueled industry where your main job is doing physically demanding stunts and pretending to punch each other, sometimes arguments are settled backstage by actually punching each other. It doesn’t seem to happen as often in the modern era of wrestling, but “legit heat” absolutely still exists because humans are humans. It just means, now, that someone is mad at you because you’re a big ol’ stupidhead.

2

Working Stiff

Hehehehe. “Working stiff.”

OK, that’s enough of that. Working stiff is a real thing, and it has nothing to do with their big ol’ hogs. When you’re timing a punch, it’s not all about stopping your fist just short of hitting the guy straight in the suckhole. Some wrestlers do that. Some use punches that actually land — they’re just done in a way that isn’t as painful or face-destroying as a full-on, “real” hit. They keep their fist loose, and the impact lands in a very specific spot. There are many ways to make a punch look real if you have the talent (and your opponent has the talent) to pull it off.

Others will actually clock you and demand that you clock them back. Not full-on, mind you … but enough contact that you’re definitely going to fucking feel it. Sometimes, that’s done to make the match look more realistic. Sometimes, it’s done to test new members of your roster. When The Dudley Boyz entered the WWE, they were put into a match with The APA, and … well, the Dudleys can tell you about it:

It basically boils down to, “We hit them about as hard as we could hit them. And they hit us about as hard as they could hit us. Then we went backstage and hugged, and it was awesome.” You know, like one does.

One of the stiffest wrestlers on the current roster is “Sheamus.” He’s known for laying into forearms, punches, and kicks to the point that at last week’s pay per view he kicked Jeff Hardy’s tooth right out of his goddamn skull.

These days, it’s not so much about punishing a new wrestler. It’s mostly about making the matches look real, because if you’re making actual contact, that’s about as real as it gets. The only way you can mess that one up is … well, if you knock a dude’s tooth out of his facehole. But it’s still pretty amazing that the recipients of those shots take it and keep on performing, because they know that the more they sell it, the more they’re worth as performers. Personally, I’d just start crying until I puked if they did that to me.

1

Mouthpiece

One thing casual fans take for granted is a wrestler’s ability to work a microphone. It’s not enough that he’s huge, athletic, and able to pull off the match without hurting anyone. If he can’t speak in front of a crowd, he’s just a meat prop. And if he’s boring, people will simply make a concerted effort to not give a fuck. That’s where a mouthpiece comes in.

A “mouthpiece” is someone who speaks for the wrestler, while he just stands in the background, looking like he’s about to rip your entire fucking head off. It sounds stupid, but when you put two people like Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman together, it’s pure magic:

When Jack Swagger picked up a microphone, he caused tens of thousands of people to fall into a mass coma. He couldn’t even get them to boo, and that’s what we as fans like to do the most. So what do you do? Do you turn him into a jobber and then fire him? Well, they actually did that, eventually … but at the time, the obvious solution was to create a militant, racist character named Zeb Colter and let him do his thing:

The only words spoken by Jack Swagger in that entire promo is, “We the people.” That’s it. His entire job was to stand there like an indoctrinated soldier, while Zeb preached his racist message. The crowd hated them, which was exactly what the WWE wanted. Sure, eventually people turned the other way and started cheering them because the world is an ever-growing ball of crazy, but the point is that the mouthpiece was the savior of that character.

All of these terms boil down to psychology. Manipulating people’s emotions and perspectives to get them to react the way you want. It’s why I love wrestling so much. It’s not just “two oiled-up dudes, violently hugging each other.” It’s an emotional magic show. “We’re going to get you excited. Now, we’re going to piss you off. Now, we’re going to make you laugh. Now, we’re going to make you think you run the show.” It’s brilliant, but the thing you see on TV is only the curtain. The real tricks are being done behind it.

At the very least, you should know what that ridiculous quote from the beginning of this article means, now.

John Cheese is the head of columns for Cracked. You can also find him on Twitter.

The proliferation of beer pong and craft beer may have you think that we’re living in one of the peak times to get drunk, but humans have been getting famously hammered for millennia. Like a frat house’s lawn after a kegger, history is littered with world-changing events that were secretly powered by booze. The inaugural games of the Roman Coliseum, the drafting of the U.S. Constitution, and the Russian Revolution were all capped off by major parties that most attendees probably regretted in the morning.

Join Jack O’Brien and Cracked staffers Carmen Angelica, Alex Schmidt, Michael Swaim, plus comedian Blake Wexler for a retelling of history’s biggest moments you didn’t realize everyone was drunk for.

Get your tickets here:

Source: http://allofbeer.com/how-knowing-a-few-key-phrases-completely-changes-wrestling/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/01/09/how-knowing-a-few-key-phrases-completely-changes-wrestling/

[allofbeercom]

How Knowing A Few Key Phrases Completely Changes Wrestling

The following collection of words will sound like total goddamn gibberish to most of you, but hardcore wrestling fans will know exactly what I’m saying: “Can you believe the canned heat they just piped in for that jobber? It was supposed to be a basic promo, but he worked himself into a shoot, and now smarks are going to be crying about how he needs a mouthpiece.”

This is one of the greatest parts of wrestling to me: the behind-the-scenes terminology. It says so much about the industry, once you know what it all means. Most of it was started in a time when wrestling was presented as a legitimate competitive fighting sport. They were code words that were only known to the people who were in the business. For instance, “jobber” is code for a sort of no-name wrestler whose sole purpose is to lose to bigger stars. But if it’s 1970, and you’re telling the world that the sport is “real,” you can’t exactly give away the fact that this guy’s job is “professional loser.”

But it gets better …

5

Mark/Smark

“Mark” is a straight-up conman term. It was used by carnival workers back in the ancient times when people went to carnivals on purpose. A “mark” was the victim of rigged games or the target of a con. So let’s say you were a worker who was running a game booth where the object was to knock down a stack of milk cans with a baseball, but one of them was filled with concrete … when someone walked by, showing interest, you’d think, “Here’s the mark who’s about to make me some sweet milk-can money.”

Outside of the “con” aspect, it was a carnival term that was used literally. If you were paying for your ticket, and the person in the booth spotted that you had a lot of money, someone would grab a bit of dirt or chalk and discretely mark your clothes, so the game-booth workers would know who had money to spend and who didn’t. That way, they didn’t waste their time on broke-ass punks who were just there to look at the shiny prizes.

A mark in wrestling is someone who gets really into certain performers or heavily buys into the story lines. You’re falling for their performance in the same way that you’re falling for the milk-can trick. In the most basic sense. In the world of wrestling fans, “mark” is often used as an insult. So if someone’s a fan of John Cena, and I often picture John Cena on fire, I’d insult that fan by saying, “Oh, so you’re another Cena mark, huh? What are you, twelve?”

At the same time, it’s a term of endearment. “Holy shit, I totally marked out when the Dudley Boyz returned!” Wrestlers typically love marks because it means they’re enjoying the show for what it is. Well, that and marks are pretty easy people to sell t-shirts to.

“Smarks” are a different story. It means “smart marks,” and they are typically people who keep up on the behind-the-scenes aspects of wrestling. They know when a performer has been legitimately injured, versus a story-based fake injury. They know which performers are dating. They know that the reason Chad Wrestleman has not been on TV for a month is because he got busted for snorting oven cleaner. Wrestlers. Fucking. Hate. Smarks.

You see, smarks are the ones who can get an entire crowd chanting about real-life controversies, right on the air. Recently, John “Bradshaw” Layfield has been in wrestling news for allegedly bullying one of the announcers right out of the industry. He’s been known as a piece of shit for years, but the newest story is what got smarks to lead the audience in a chant of, “FIRE BRADSHAW!” Smarks are the ones who got Nikki Bella to respond to them with this:

Via Twitter

That looks like a spilled Scrabble board to regular readers. A regular fan knows that when John Cena comes out, there is a long standing tradition of half the crowd chanting, “Let’s go, Cena!” The other half chants, “Cena sucks!” Smarks knew that Nikki Bella and John Cena had started dating in real life … so they modified that chant to, “You suck Cena!” Smarks aren’t exactly known for their wit and charm, but that shit made it on the air.

4

Work Yourself Into A Shoot

This is probably my favorite wrestling phrase, because it says so much about the psychology of performing. In general, when a wrestler picks up a microphone and goes into his or her spiel, that’s called “cutting a promo.” Everything they’re saying is adding to the promotion of a match, a story, a pay per view, a movie … whatever project needs pushed. All of the stuff they’re saying — in character and adhering to the story — is called a “work.” It’s scripted. It’s planned out in advance. I mean, obviously, they’re not going to let them grab a mic and start going off about how Hitler did nothing wrong. Unless the story demands it, in which case, it’s fair game. The point is, their words and actions are controlled. They’re worked.

A “shoot” can mean either 1) really fighting in the ring, like when Perry Saturn legitimately beat the fuck out of Mike Bell for botching a move, or 2) when a wrestler drops the character and starts talking about real shit. You mostly see this happening in interviews, outside of the WWE. Here’s Jim Cornette shooting about “accidental” nudity that happened in WWE matches in the past:

And here he is, shooting on the idea of shoot interviews:

“Working yourself into a shoot” can happen verbally or physically. It happens when you start off talking or wrestling as planned (a work), but as you go on, something legitimately pisses you off, and you start “throwing live rounds,” as Blue Meanie so eloquently put it (a shoot). The part that fascinates me is that the trigger that pisses you off doesn’t have to come from an outside source. Simply acting and getting too into the role can do it.

The best example of it happening, verbally, is on an episode of Talking Smack. That’s a scripted show (or at least partially scripted) by the WWE. On one episode, Smackdown general manager Daniel Bryan called “The Miz’s” wrestling style cowardly. He wasn’t talking about his in-story fights. He was talking about him as a performer, playing things too safely. Though Miz tried to bring things back around to a character-driven response in the end, everything else is him legitimately losing his shit. Note: That is just my opinion, based on knowing how he sounds when he acts mad. If this is all acting, he deserves an Oscar:

The thing about a shoot is that it’s a double-edged sword. Say too much and badmouth the wrong person, and they’ll fire your ass. But do it in just the right way — which means getting lucky, because you’re in no position for self control when you’re that pissed off — and the critics will praise you forever. That video above is considered to be The Miz’s best work of his entire career.

3

Canned Heat Vs. Legit Heat

You’d think that “canned heat” and “legit heat” would be opposite terms, but they’re fairly unrelated. Both are important, though, in understanding the psychology of the business.

Sometimes, an audience simply isn’t into a character. Maybe he’s just a boring turd. Maybe the crowd is exhausted after a couple hours, and they’ve lost the energy to cheer and boo at every little thing that happens in the ring. When an on-air wrestling promotion wants the people at home to buy into the illusion of excitement, they’ll “pipe in” boos or cheers. I don’t know if wrestlers call it “canned heat,” but fans do.

This is especially useful if the promotion wants a certain character viewed in a specific way. If the crowd suddenly starts liking and cheering a heel (bad guy), they might replace those cheers with pretaped boos and even new commentary. Personally, I couldn’t give less of a shit whether they do it or not. I just find it interesting that crowds are unpredictable, and sometimes for the benefit of the overall product, you have to steer the at-home viewers in a specific direction. If I had the time to rig it up, I’d pipe in canned heat every time I entered or exited my house.

“Legit heat” is what gives smarks their gossip boners. It can sometimes be used to describe a crowd that legitimately hates a character, but it’s more frequently used among fans to talk about performers who are in real-life, behind-the-scenes tiffs. Here are a bunch of wrestlers talking about legitimate backstage heat in the form of beating the urine out of each other:

But “legit heat” can also mean getting in trouble with the big dogs. Vince McMahon is fairly notorious for losing his shit on wrestlers who screw up or say the wrong thing on the mic … or, hell, just don’t look the way he wants them to look. Put “Vince McMahon heat” into YouTube, and you’ll get 127,000 results.

YouTube

But that says a lot about the business to me. In a testosterone-fueled industry where your main job is doing physically demanding stunts and pretending to punch each other, sometimes arguments are settled backstage by actually punching each other. It doesn’t seem to happen as often in the modern era of wrestling, but “legit heat” absolutely still exists because humans are humans. It just means, now, that someone is mad at you because you’re a big ol’ stupidhead.

2

Working Stiff

Hehehehe. “Working stiff.”

OK, that’s enough of that. Working stiff is a real thing, and it has nothing to do with their big ol’ hogs. When you’re timing a punch, it’s not all about stopping your fist just short of hitting the guy straight in the suckhole. Some wrestlers do that. Some use punches that actually land — they’re just done in a way that isn’t as painful or face-destroying as a full-on, “real” hit. They keep their fist loose, and the impact lands in a very specific spot. There are many ways to make a punch look real if you have the talent (and your opponent has the talent) to pull it off.

Others will actually clock you and demand that you clock them back. Not full-on, mind you … but enough contact that you’re definitely going to fucking feel it. Sometimes, that’s done to make the match look more realistic. Sometimes, it’s done to test new members of your roster. When The Dudley Boyz entered the WWE, they were put into a match with The APA, and … well, the Dudleys can tell you about it:

It basically boils down to, “We hit them about as hard as we could hit them. And they hit us about as hard as they could hit us. Then we went backstage and hugged, and it was awesome.” You know, like one does.

One of the stiffest wrestlers on the current roster is “Sheamus.” He’s known for laying into forearms, punches, and kicks to the point that at last week’s pay per view he kicked Jeff Hardy’s tooth right out of his goddamn skull.

These days, it’s not so much about punishing a new wrestler. It’s mostly about making the matches look real, because if you’re making actual contact, that’s about as real as it gets. The only way you can mess that one up is … well, if you knock a dude’s tooth out of his facehole. But it’s still pretty amazing that the recipients of those shots take it and keep on performing, because they know that the more they sell it, the more they’re worth as performers. Personally, I’d just start crying until I puked if they did that to me.

1

Mouthpiece

One thing casual fans take for granted is a wrestler’s ability to work a microphone. It’s not enough that he’s huge, athletic, and able to pull off the match without hurting anyone. If he can’t speak in front of a crowd, he’s just a meat prop. And if he’s boring, people will simply make a concerted effort to not give a fuck. That’s where a mouthpiece comes in.

A “mouthpiece” is someone who speaks for the wrestler, while he just stands in the background, looking like he’s about to rip your entire fucking head off. It sounds stupid, but when you put two people like Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman together, it’s pure magic:

When Jack Swagger picked up a microphone, he caused tens of thousands of people to fall into a mass coma. He couldn’t even get them to boo, and that’s what we as fans like to do the most. So what do you do? Do you turn him into a jobber and then fire him? Well, they actually did that, eventually … but at the time, the obvious solution was to create a militant, racist character named Zeb Colter and let him do his thing:

The only words spoken by Jack Swagger in that entire promo is, “We the people.” That’s it. His entire job was to stand there like an indoctrinated soldier, while Zeb preached his racist message. The crowd hated them, which was exactly what the WWE wanted. Sure, eventually people turned the other way and started cheering them because the world is an ever-growing ball of crazy, but the point is that the mouthpiece was the savior of that character.

All of these terms boil down to psychology. Manipulating people’s emotions and perspectives to get them to react the way you want. It’s why I love wrestling so much. It’s not just “two oiled-up dudes, violently hugging each other.” It’s an emotional magic show. “We’re going to get you excited. Now, we’re going to piss you off. Now, we’re going to make you laugh. Now, we’re going to make you think you run the show.” It’s brilliant, but the thing you see on TV is only the curtain. The real tricks are being done behind it.

At the very least, you should know what that ridiculous quote from the beginning of this article means, now.

John Cheese is the head of columns for Cracked. You can also find him on Twitter.

The proliferation of beer pong and craft beer may have you think that we’re living in one of the peak times to get drunk, but humans have been getting famously hammered for millennia. Like a frat house’s lawn after a kegger, history is littered with world-changing events that were secretly powered by booze. The inaugural games of the Roman Coliseum, the drafting of the U.S. Constitution, and the Russian Revolution were all capped off by major parties that most attendees probably regretted in the morning.

Join Jack O’Brien and Cracked staffers Carmen Angelica, Alex Schmidt, Michael Swaim, plus comedian Blake Wexler for a retelling of history’s biggest moments you didn’t realize everyone was drunk for.

Get your tickets here:

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/how-knowing-a-few-key-phrases-completely-changes-wrestling/

[caredogstips]

How Knowing A Few Key Phrases Completely Changes Wrestling

The following collecting of words will sound like total goddamn gibberish to most of you, but hardcore wrestling devotees will know exactly what I’m supposing: “Can you believe the canned heat they just piped in for that jobber? It was supposed to be a basic promo, but he worked himself into a hit, and now smarks are going to be exclaiming about how he needs a mouthpiece.”

This is one of the greatest specific areas of wrestling to me: the behind-the-scenes lingo. It says so much about service industries, formerly you know what it all means. Most of it was started in a experience when fighting was presented as a lawful competitive resist boast. They were code words that were only known to the people who were in the business. For instance, “jobber” is system for a kind of no-name wrestler whose sole aim is to lose to bigger hotshots. But if it’s 1970, and you’re telling the world that the sport is “real, ” you can’t precisely tell on the fact that this guy’s chore is “professional loser.”

But it gets better …

5

Mark/ Smark

“Mark” is a straight-up conman expression. It was used by carnival works back in the ancient times when people went to carnivals on purpose. A “mark” was the victim of rigged recreations or the target of a con. So let’s say you were a worker who was operating a game booth where the objective was to knock down a load of milk cans with a baseball, but one of them was fitted with cement … when a person moved by, showing interest, you’d speculate, “Here’s the mark who’s about to become me some sugared milk-can money.”

Outside of the “con” aspect, it was a carnival word that was used literally. If you two are paying for your ticket, and the person or persons in the booth recognized that you had a lot of money, person would grab a bit of clay or chalk and discretely observe your robes, so the game-booth works would know who had money to invest and who didn’t. That style, they didn’t squander their time on broke-ass punks who were just there to look at the glossy prizes.

A mark in battling is someone who gets really into particular performers or heavily buys into the story lines. You’re falling for their execution in the same way that you’re falling for the milk-can gimmick. In the most basic gumption. In the world of fighting devotees , “mark” is often used as an offense. So if someone’s a fan of John Cena, and I often envision John Cena on fire, I’d insult that love with people saying, “Oh, so you’re another Cena mark, huh? What are you, twelve? “

At the same time, it’s a period of endearment. “Holy shit, I totally celebrated out when the Dudley Boyz reverted! ” Wrestlers frequently enjoy recognizes because it means they’re enjoying the evidence for what it is. Well, that and tags are pretty easy people to sell t-shirts to.

“Smarks” are a different story. It signifies “smart differentiates, ” and they are typically people who keep up on the behind-the-scenes various aspects of battling. They know when a performer has been legitimately injured, versus a story-based bogus harm. They know which musicians are dating. They know that the same reasons Chad Wrestleman has not been on TV for a month is because he got busted for snorting oven clean. Wrestlers. Fucking. Hate . Smarks.

You construe, smarks are the ones who can get an entire mob chanting about real-life contentions, right on the breeze. Lately, John “Bradshaw” Layfield has been in wrestling report for supposedly bullying one of the announcers right out of the industry. He’s been known as a piece of shit for years, but the newest story is what get smarks to contribute the audience in a sing of, “FIRE BRADSHAW! ” Smarks are the ones who got Nikki Bella to respond to them with this TAGEND

Via Twitter

That looks like a spilled Scrabble board to regular readers. A regular devotee known to be when John Cena comes out, there is a long standing institution of half the crowd chanting, “Let’s go, Cena! ” The other half sings, “Cena sucks! ” Smarks knew that Nikki Bella and John Cena had started dating in real life … so they modified that sing to, “You suck Cena! ” Smarks aren’t precisely known for their ingenuity and attractivenes, but that shit formed it on the air.

4

Work Yourself Into A Shoot

This is probably my favorite wrestling term, because it says so much about the psychology of performing. In general, when a wrestler picks up a microphone and goes into his or her spiel, that’s called “cutting a promo.” Everything they’re saying is adding to the promotion of a competition, a narration, a repay per judgment, a movie … whatever project necessitates pushed. All of the stuff they’re remarking — in character and adhering to the tale — is called a “work.” It’s wrote. It’s scheduled out in advance. I symbolize, obviously, they’re not going to let them grab a mic and start moving off about how Hitler did nothing wrong. Unless the floor requires it, in which case, it’s fair game. The phase is, their words and actions are controlled. They’re worked.

A “shoot” can intend either 1) truly pushing in the ring, like when Perry Saturn legitimately trounced the fuck out of Mike Bell for botching a move, or 2) when a wrestler sag the character and starts talking about real shit. You chiefly see this happening in interrogations, outside of the WWE. Here’s Jim Cornette killing about “accidental” nudity that happened in WWE accords in the past " class="wp-smiley" style="height: 1em; max-height: 1em;" /> TAGEND And here he is, shooting on the notion of kill interviews " class="wp-smiley" style="height: 1em; max-height: 1em;" /> TAGEND

“Working yourself into a shoot” can happen verbally or physically. It happens when you start off talking or wrestling as proposed( a act ), but as you go on, something legitimately pisses you off, and you start “throwing live rounds, ” as Blue Meanie so eloquently made it( a shoot ). The side that mesmerizes me is that the initiation that pisses you off doesn’t have to come from an outside source. Simply playing and getting too into the capacity can do it.

The better sample of it happening, verbally, is on an escapade of Talking Smack . That’s a scripted establish( or at least partially scripted) by the WWE. On one occurrence, Smackdown general manager Daniel Bryan announced “The Miz’s” grappling mode cowardly. He wasn’t talking about his in-story campaigns. He was talking about him as a musician, playing things too safely. Though Miz tried to making acts back around to a character-driven response in the end, everything else is him legitimately losing his shit. Memo: That is just my opinion, based on knowing how he chimes when he ordinances mad. If this is all behave, he deserves an Oscar TAGEND

The thing about a shoot is that it’s a double-edged sword. Say too much and badmouth the incorrect party, and they’ll ardour your ass. But do it in simply the right way — which symbolizes going lucky, because you’re in no berth for soul authority when you’re that pissed off — and the pundits will praise you forever. That video above is considered to be The Miz’s best design of his entire career.

3

Canned Heat Vs. Legit Heat

You’d think that “canned heat” and “legit heat” would be opposite periods, but they’re moderately unrelated. Both are important, though, in understanding the psychology of the business.

Sometimes, an gathering simply isn’t into a reputation. Maybe he’s simply a boring turd. Perhaps the crowd is depleted after a duet hours, and they’ve lost the intensity to applaud and boo at every little thing that happens in the ring. When an on-air wrestling promotion wants the peoples of the territories at home to buy into the apparition of excite, they’ll “pipe in” boos or claps. I don’t know if wrestlers call it “canned heat, ” but fans do.

This is especially useful if the advertisement craves a certain attribute viewed in a specific route. If the crowd suddenly starts penchant and encouraging a heel( bad guy ), they might replace those members ovations with pretaped boos and even new commentary. Personally, I couldn’t give lower levels of a shit whether they do it or not. I simply find it interested that gang are unpredictable, and sometimes for potential benefits of the overall commodity, you have to steer the at-home sees in a particular attitude. If I had the time to rig it up, I’d pipe in canned heat every time I participated or exited my house.

“Legit heat” is what opens smarks their chatter boners. It can sometimes be used to describe a crowd that legitimately hates a persona, but it’s more frequently used among fans to talk about musicians who are in real-life, behind-the-scenes tiffs. Here are a bunch of wrestlers talking about legitimate backstage heat in the form of thumping the urine out of each other TAGEND

But “legit heat” can also mean going in any problems with the large-hearted puppies. Vince McMahon is moderately notorious for losing his shit on wrestlers who screw up or say the incorrect event on the mic … or, hell, precisely don’t search the practice he wants them to examine. Place “Vince McMahon heat” into YouTube, and you’ll get 127,000 results.

YouTube

But that suggests a lot about the business to me. In a testosterone-fueled industry where your main occupation is doing physically demanding stunts and pretending to punch each other, sometimes statements are settled backstage by actually perforating each other. It doesn’t seem to happen as often in the modern age of grappling, but “legit heat” utterly still exists because humen are humen. It exactly intends , now, that someone is mad at you because you’re a big ol’ stupidhead.

2

Working Stiff

Hehehehe. “Working stiff.”

OK, that’s enough of that. Toiling potent is a real thing, and it has nothing to do with their large-hearted ol’ pigs. When you’re era a pierce, it’s not all about stopping your fist only short of stumbling the guy directly in the suckhole. Some wrestlers do that. Some usage pierces that is really property — they’re just done in a way that isn’t as agonizing or face-destroying as a full-on, “real” touched. They keep their fist loose, and potential impacts properties in a very specific recognise. There are many ways to make a punch looking real if you have the endowment( and your rival has the knack) to pull it off.

Others will actually clock you and ask that you clock them back. Not full-on, intellect you … but enough contact that you’re emphatically going to fucking feel it. Sometimes, that’s done to build the coincide sound more realistic. Sometimes, it’s done to research new members of your roster. When The Dudley Boyz had participated in the WWE, they were put into a match with The APA, and … well, the Dudleys can tell you about it TAGEND

It mostly boils down to, “We reached them about as hard as we could punched them. And they stumble us about as hard as they could smacked us. Then we went backstage and hugged, and it was awesome.” You know, like one does.

One of the stiffest wrestlers on the current roster is “Sheamus.” He’s knows we laying into forearms, pierces, and kickings to the point that at last week’s remuneration per judgment he kicked Jeff Hardy’s tooth right out of his goddamn skull.

These epoches, it’s not so much about penalise a brand-new wrestler. It’s mainly about constructing the competitions gaze real, because if you’re making actual contact, that’s about as real as it gets. The only method you can mess that one up is … well, if you knock a dude’s tooth out of his facehole. But it’s still pretty amazing that the recipients of those films take it and keep on play-act, because they know that the more they sell it, the more they’re worth as performers. Personally, I’d simply start exclaiming until I retch if they did that to me.

1

Mouthpiece

One thing casual fans take for granted is a wrestler’s ability to work a microphone. It’s not enough that he’s huge, sporting, and be permitted to pull off the match without hurting anyone. If he can’t speak in front of a gathering, he’s only a flesh prop. And if he’s boring, beings will simply make a concerted effort to not give a fuck. That’s where a spokesperson comes in.

A “mouthpiece” is someone who pronounces for the wrestler, while he just stands in the background, looking like he’s was just about to rip your entire fucking head off. It resonates stupid, but when you employ two parties like Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman together, it’s pure magical TAGEND

When Jack Swagger picked up a microphone, he stimulated tens of thousands to fall into a mass lethargy. He couldn’t even get them to boo, and that’s what we as love like to do “the worlds largest”. So what do you do? Do you turn him into a jobber and then attack him? Well, we are really did that, eventually … but at the time, the obvious solution was to create a activist, racist persona appointed Zeb Colter and give him do his thought TAGEND

The only texts spoken by Jack Swagger in that entire promo is, “We the people.” That’s it. His entire place was to stand there like an indoctrinated soldier, while Zeb urged his prejudiced theme. The army hated them, which was exactly what the WWE craved. Sure, eventually parties grew the other way and started heartening them because the world is an ever-growing dance of crazy, but the point is that the mouthpiece was the savior of that character.

All of these words boil down to psychology. Controlling people’s spirits and perspectives to get them to act the method you crave. It’s why I affection battling so much better. It’s not just “two oiled-up dudes, violently hugging each other.” It’s an psychological magical reveal. “We’re going to get you roused. Now, we’re going to piss you off. Now, we’re going to make you laugh. Now, we’re going to see you think you run the show.” It’s brilliant, but the thing you view on TV is simply the drapery. The real gimmicks are being done behind it.

At the very least, you should know what that laughable quote at the very beginning of this article symbolizes , now.

John Cheese is the head of column for Cracked. You can also find him on Twitter . The proliferation of beer pong and craft beer may have you think that we’re living in one of the peak ages to get drunk, but humans have been going famously hammered for millennia. Like a frat house’s lawn after a kegger, record is littered with world-changing happenings that were secretly powered by liquor. The inaugural recreations of the Roman Coliseum, the drafting of the U.S. Constitution, and the Russian Revolution were all capped off by major parties that most attendees likely regretted in the morning . Join Jack O’Brien and Cracked staffers Carmen Angelica, Alex Schmidt, Michael Swaim, plus comedian Blake Wexler for a retelling of history’s biggest instants you didn’t recognise everybody is drink for . Get your tickets here :

Read more:

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