Laments in a Mental Lav (vs. Hope)
Jan 9, 2022 0:35:22 GMT -5
Lissie Hope ♥, Downfall, and 1 more like this
Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jan 9, 2022 0:35:22 GMT -5
Max Daemon is seen sitting on his bed. Behind him, his Doctor is seen sleeping. Max is shirtless and wearing pants (thank the unknown), but the sweat pouring down his chest is enough of an indication of his current predicament.
He stands up, wiping his hands through his hair. He walks past his bed, past Doc, and heads to the nearby bathroom.
He closes the door without shutting it completely and turns on the faucet. He gets his hands wet long enough to try and wash his face.
It’s not enough.
His trip to the toilet face first is just fast enough to have his dinner expel into the water.
He spends a good minute there heaving in an attempt to control his stomach all while the cold of the bathroom tile combines with the sweat on his hands.
He feels the headaches start to form as another portion of his dinner leaves his body forcefully into the bowl.
He closes the lid and pulls the handle, allowing the water combined with the vile expulsion from his body to swirl away from his mind.
Once his back hits the floor, Max opens his eyes to stare into the ceiling. The darkness starts to make his vision blend in, and he can easily see the crackle on the ceiling and the circular light in the middle of the room that also serves as a vent.
With an exhale from his lungs, he begins.
“It’s time for that match, eh?
Max Daemon vs. Lissie Hope! The match I’ve always wanted, right? The match that I called for when I first got here, right?
When I called dibs on Lissie and the Swallowing? Remember that?
Or when I called Lissie a cunt and said that I hated her? Remember how I continuously ridiculed her and made her feel horrible for tryin ta' commit suicide, failin, and then joinin up with the single most heartless group of people wrestlin has ever seen?
Remember how I said she has a modicum of heart in her for turnin her back on the shit-fuck of a human bein that Cassidy Adler claims he is? And how she often lowered herself so she could lower herself onta' that fuckwad?
Well it’s time ladies and gentlemen!
The moment ya’ve all been waiting for!
…
…
…
…
…
Nyeh.”
Max shrugs, which earns him a wince.
He looks over at the door, pushing it open a crack to see the lump on the bed that is Doc.
His internal satisfaction satisfied, he looks back up at the ceiling, his face fairly neutral given the topic at hand and his previous noncommitted response.
“Look, I spent so much of my time shittin on Lissie as a person and a performer that at this point it’s become a pastime for anybody who is facin her.
I spent a buncha time callin her and Ash Blake a cunt and bitch that I exhausted myself at that point when the entire focus was on how Lissie was a blackhearted person with no redeemin qualities and little desire to redeem herself (at the time).
I then decided to reprise the idea when I fought Johnny-boy and I spent even more focus and time on rippin inta' him and his relationship with Mae and Lissie that by the end of it, the two of us were willin ta' kill the other just ta' say ‘I’m better.’
Now I can’t say I like Ash (hate is still a viable word for her) and I can honestly say I respect Johnny-boy even if the two of us would rather shoot our own feet before agreein with each other…
…but then there’s Lissie, and honestly, I mighta' shown a bit of kudos for her decidin that Philidor were a mistake and that maybe Johnny-boy was fightin the good fight and that she was bein a self-righteous bitch who turned her back on her fans, her biggest supporter, her ex-boyfriend who knew her the best, and everyone who was tellin her that she was makin a mistake…
…
…
I’m sure we could spend all day talkin about Lissie’s mistakes and how her divin back inta' addiction at the worst moment of her life due ta' bein enabled by that shitty dick-hole that is Cass and the shithole group of people that were Philidor are what caused her ta' realize that maybe, just maybe, she had made a mistake.
Or we could just spend some of the day talkin about Lissie bein no worse for wear in Philidor than she was out of it.
Oh cool she won the US Title off the back of Graham Baker’s demise. Ooh, she beat Graham Baker when I couldn’t, am I supposed ta' be impressed?
This is the same fucker who lost ta' Betsy Granger in a showcase match she had put a lot of her pride in, all in an attempt ta' redeem herself ta' the same fans she betrayed and make them think that maybe Lissie was right, actually. (She wasn't.)
This is the same fucker who couldn’t beat Corey Black, and actually, lookin back at it, was moments away from losin due ta' eatin shit from a Burnin Hammer but was only saved by the timekeeper. Congratulations Lissie, ya' didn’t fuckin win and ya' nearly almost lost. Be proud of what, eatin shit as the last move of the actual match and not losin?
No wait this is the same fucker who confronted her demons in Ash Blake and promised herself that Ash was gonna lose and what the fuck happened ta' ya’ Lissie?
Ya' blew it.
What was I doin at the season premie—oh yeah, I fought against a clown wantin ta' exorcise me and I won.
The first half of last year was the Lissie show. All everyone could talk about was Lissie Hope joinin Philidor Holdings and turnin evil, wearin black and gettin eyeshadow like any true turn ta' the darkness.
The last half of last year was mine. I made that shit mine, and I’m doin so in 2022 by headin inta' a fight with the greatest fighter to ever fight in an Octagon.
What is Lissie doin?
Who the fuck cares what Lissie is doin? She had time in the spotlight last year and we all saw how little she actually did with it. Or was she so protective of Philidor she didn’t wanna take away any time from Ash or Carter?
Or maybe she realized that she isn’t any good ta' herself or this company when she’s the main star?
Lissie, you’ll always have your fans like Miss Mae or Vivian Rae who are (or were) ride or die for ya’ even as ya’ sat in the hospital bed bemoanin your choices that led ya' there, and you’ll always have your supporters like Johnny-boy and maybe even Howard Black if ya’ stop bein an asshole ta' him, but what good are all of they if you’re never sniffin a modicum of the success that Carter Shaw or Ash Blake had?
Maybe ya' realized that it’s okay not ta' be the main eventer. It’s okay ta' not be the person in the spotlight, holdin the World Title up high over an unworthy opponent.
It’s okay ta' only ever be second best.
Bridesmaid, never bride, ya' know?
Not that I’d know what that feels like.
I’ve been a success since I started wrestlin and sure, I’ve had my downs with the ups, but what career hasn’t? Carter literally lost his World Title ta' Dandy Devito, how the fuck do ya’ think he feels?
So lookin inta’ this match, you’re probably thinkin ‘it’s Max Daemon, he’s easy, he’s predictable, he’s nothin, he fucked his sister’ or whatever inane and repetitive bullshit ya’ hold onta’ because ya’ lack a proper narrative ta’ use against me that isn’t the same shit everyone else has tried ta’ use against me.
Hell, I’m pretty sure half that shit is the reason the Clown Fuck went after me in the first place.
But honestly? Even if I just spent the last whatever talkin about how little ya' matter as a performer and how much ya’ know ya’ don’t want ta’ be the top dog, the head honcho, the number one in Action Wresting…none of that really changes how I feel about this match.
I mighta' wanted it when I first joined AW and called dibs on your ass because it was fuckin hot in a trio of women who were fuckin hot, and yeah, your ass is still fuckin hot.
But I’m not the same guy I was a year or so ago. I’ve changed a lot in that time.
It took ya’ goin through an evil group, flippin off all the people who ever supported ya’, and comin out the other side, but lookin at who are ya' are now…can ya’ honestly say you’re any different than who ya’ were before?
You’re still the insecure woman afraid ta' disappoint the people who believe in ya’.
You’re still the same loser who fails when it matters most ta' ya’ as a person.
You’re still the girl who hides behind tough words and a harsh façade to make yourself look tougher when all it ever takes ta' crack ya’ is a drop of liquor and a few words too far.
At least if ya’ give me somethin ta’ go off of, I might give a fuck about this match ta’ give ya’ more, but right now? Lookin at who ya’ are and what we’ve both gone through this past year?
Shit…
I’m Max fuckin Daemon and I’m lookin ta' make 2022 my year.
You’re Lissie fuckin Hope and you’re lookin ta' make 2022 a year ya' stay relevant.
And ya' might become the US Champ again or walk inta' an Elimination Chamber in the main event or walk inta' All-In or be Top 10 in Havoc, but shit…does any of that really fuckin matter if the guy ya’ have a hate boner for is right there with ya’ ta' ruin your fuckin time?
Do I even have ta' say it?
Do ya’ wanna have a bad time?
Because if ya’ think you’re gonna be walkin inta' Clash havin my number and walkin out provin ta’ the world that whatever bullshit ya’ spewed about Max Daemon is right…?
…then shit…I have no problem puttin ya’ back in that hospital bed.
Maybe it’ll give ya’ flashbacks to happier times.
Not better ones, ya’ still sucked then.
Just times when everybody still loved ya’.”
With that, the door to the bathroom opens.
Max looks up to see the Doctor standing there. They look down at him in concern, and sure, Max in sweatpants with no shirt sweating bullets on the bathroom floor while it smells like vomit might be cause of concern, but is it really worth—?
They’re already picking him up. They drag Max to the shower, slowly setting him down so that he is lying in the tub. They turn on the water, making sure the showerhead hits Max as he just breathes to keep the headache and pains at bay.
While Max sits there and just goes over his own whirlpool of thoughts, the Doctor smooths their hand through his hair, providing whatever comfort they can.
When his eyes close, a soft smile he doesn’t notice graces his lips.
He stands up, wiping his hands through his hair. He walks past his bed, past Doc, and heads to the nearby bathroom.
He closes the door without shutting it completely and turns on the faucet. He gets his hands wet long enough to try and wash his face.
It’s not enough.
His trip to the toilet face first is just fast enough to have his dinner expel into the water.
He spends a good minute there heaving in an attempt to control his stomach all while the cold of the bathroom tile combines with the sweat on his hands.
He feels the headaches start to form as another portion of his dinner leaves his body forcefully into the bowl.
He closes the lid and pulls the handle, allowing the water combined with the vile expulsion from his body to swirl away from his mind.
Once his back hits the floor, Max opens his eyes to stare into the ceiling. The darkness starts to make his vision blend in, and he can easily see the crackle on the ceiling and the circular light in the middle of the room that also serves as a vent.
With an exhale from his lungs, he begins.
“It’s time for that match, eh?
Max Daemon vs. Lissie Hope! The match I’ve always wanted, right? The match that I called for when I first got here, right?
When I called dibs on Lissie and the Swallowing? Remember that?
Or when I called Lissie a cunt and said that I hated her? Remember how I continuously ridiculed her and made her feel horrible for tryin ta' commit suicide, failin, and then joinin up with the single most heartless group of people wrestlin has ever seen?
Remember how I said she has a modicum of heart in her for turnin her back on the shit-fuck of a human bein that Cassidy Adler claims he is? And how she often lowered herself so she could lower herself onta' that fuckwad?
Well it’s time ladies and gentlemen!
The moment ya’ve all been waiting for!
…
…
…
…
…
Nyeh.”
Max shrugs, which earns him a wince.
He looks over at the door, pushing it open a crack to see the lump on the bed that is Doc.
His internal satisfaction satisfied, he looks back up at the ceiling, his face fairly neutral given the topic at hand and his previous noncommitted response.
“Look, I spent so much of my time shittin on Lissie as a person and a performer that at this point it’s become a pastime for anybody who is facin her.
I spent a buncha time callin her and Ash Blake a cunt and bitch that I exhausted myself at that point when the entire focus was on how Lissie was a blackhearted person with no redeemin qualities and little desire to redeem herself (at the time).
I then decided to reprise the idea when I fought Johnny-boy and I spent even more focus and time on rippin inta' him and his relationship with Mae and Lissie that by the end of it, the two of us were willin ta' kill the other just ta' say ‘I’m better.’
Now I can’t say I like Ash (hate is still a viable word for her) and I can honestly say I respect Johnny-boy even if the two of us would rather shoot our own feet before agreein with each other…
…but then there’s Lissie, and honestly, I mighta' shown a bit of kudos for her decidin that Philidor were a mistake and that maybe Johnny-boy was fightin the good fight and that she was bein a self-righteous bitch who turned her back on her fans, her biggest supporter, her ex-boyfriend who knew her the best, and everyone who was tellin her that she was makin a mistake…
…
…
I’m sure we could spend all day talkin about Lissie’s mistakes and how her divin back inta' addiction at the worst moment of her life due ta' bein enabled by that shitty dick-hole that is Cass and the shithole group of people that were Philidor are what caused her ta' realize that maybe, just maybe, she had made a mistake.
Or we could just spend some of the day talkin about Lissie bein no worse for wear in Philidor than she was out of it.
Oh cool she won the US Title off the back of Graham Baker’s demise. Ooh, she beat Graham Baker when I couldn’t, am I supposed ta' be impressed?
This is the same fucker who lost ta' Betsy Granger in a showcase match she had put a lot of her pride in, all in an attempt ta' redeem herself ta' the same fans she betrayed and make them think that maybe Lissie was right, actually. (She wasn't.)
This is the same fucker who couldn’t beat Corey Black, and actually, lookin back at it, was moments away from losin due ta' eatin shit from a Burnin Hammer but was only saved by the timekeeper. Congratulations Lissie, ya' didn’t fuckin win and ya' nearly almost lost. Be proud of what, eatin shit as the last move of the actual match and not losin?
No wait this is the same fucker who confronted her demons in Ash Blake and promised herself that Ash was gonna lose and what the fuck happened ta' ya’ Lissie?
Ya' blew it.
What was I doin at the season premie—oh yeah, I fought against a clown wantin ta' exorcise me and I won.
The first half of last year was the Lissie show. All everyone could talk about was Lissie Hope joinin Philidor Holdings and turnin evil, wearin black and gettin eyeshadow like any true turn ta' the darkness.
The last half of last year was mine. I made that shit mine, and I’m doin so in 2022 by headin inta' a fight with the greatest fighter to ever fight in an Octagon.
What is Lissie doin?
Who the fuck cares what Lissie is doin? She had time in the spotlight last year and we all saw how little she actually did with it. Or was she so protective of Philidor she didn’t wanna take away any time from Ash or Carter?
Or maybe she realized that she isn’t any good ta' herself or this company when she’s the main star?
Lissie, you’ll always have your fans like Miss Mae or Vivian Rae who are (or were) ride or die for ya’ even as ya’ sat in the hospital bed bemoanin your choices that led ya' there, and you’ll always have your supporters like Johnny-boy and maybe even Howard Black if ya’ stop bein an asshole ta' him, but what good are all of they if you’re never sniffin a modicum of the success that Carter Shaw or Ash Blake had?
Maybe ya' realized that it’s okay not ta' be the main eventer. It’s okay ta' not be the person in the spotlight, holdin the World Title up high over an unworthy opponent.
It’s okay ta' only ever be second best.
Bridesmaid, never bride, ya' know?
Not that I’d know what that feels like.
I’ve been a success since I started wrestlin and sure, I’ve had my downs with the ups, but what career hasn’t? Carter literally lost his World Title ta' Dandy Devito, how the fuck do ya’ think he feels?
So lookin inta’ this match, you’re probably thinkin ‘it’s Max Daemon, he’s easy, he’s predictable, he’s nothin, he fucked his sister’ or whatever inane and repetitive bullshit ya’ hold onta’ because ya’ lack a proper narrative ta’ use against me that isn’t the same shit everyone else has tried ta’ use against me.
Hell, I’m pretty sure half that shit is the reason the Clown Fuck went after me in the first place.
But honestly? Even if I just spent the last whatever talkin about how little ya' matter as a performer and how much ya’ know ya’ don’t want ta’ be the top dog, the head honcho, the number one in Action Wresting…none of that really changes how I feel about this match.
I mighta' wanted it when I first joined AW and called dibs on your ass because it was fuckin hot in a trio of women who were fuckin hot, and yeah, your ass is still fuckin hot.
But I’m not the same guy I was a year or so ago. I’ve changed a lot in that time.
It took ya’ goin through an evil group, flippin off all the people who ever supported ya’, and comin out the other side, but lookin at who are ya' are now…can ya’ honestly say you’re any different than who ya’ were before?
You’re still the insecure woman afraid ta' disappoint the people who believe in ya’.
You’re still the same loser who fails when it matters most ta' ya’ as a person.
You’re still the girl who hides behind tough words and a harsh façade to make yourself look tougher when all it ever takes ta' crack ya’ is a drop of liquor and a few words too far.
At least if ya’ give me somethin ta’ go off of, I might give a fuck about this match ta’ give ya’ more, but right now? Lookin at who ya’ are and what we’ve both gone through this past year?
Shit…
I’m Max fuckin Daemon and I’m lookin ta' make 2022 my year.
You’re Lissie fuckin Hope and you’re lookin ta' make 2022 a year ya' stay relevant.
And ya' might become the US Champ again or walk inta' an Elimination Chamber in the main event or walk inta' All-In or be Top 10 in Havoc, but shit…does any of that really fuckin matter if the guy ya’ have a hate boner for is right there with ya’ ta' ruin your fuckin time?
Do I even have ta' say it?
Do ya’ wanna have a bad time?
Because if ya’ think you’re gonna be walkin inta' Clash havin my number and walkin out provin ta’ the world that whatever bullshit ya’ spewed about Max Daemon is right…?
…then shit…I have no problem puttin ya’ back in that hospital bed.
Maybe it’ll give ya’ flashbacks to happier times.
Not better ones, ya’ still sucked then.
Just times when everybody still loved ya’.”
With that, the door to the bathroom opens.
Max looks up to see the Doctor standing there. They look down at him in concern, and sure, Max in sweatpants with no shirt sweating bullets on the bathroom floor while it smells like vomit might be cause of concern, but is it really worth—?
They’re already picking him up. They drag Max to the shower, slowly setting him down so that he is lying in the tub. They turn on the water, making sure the showerhead hits Max as he just breathes to keep the headache and pains at bay.
While Max sits there and just goes over his own whirlpool of thoughts, the Doctor smooths their hand through his hair, providing whatever comfort they can.
When his eyes close, a soft smile he doesn’t notice graces his lips.
