Speaking through actions (For DSX and Thurma)

[Deus001]

The LAW gyms were always popular around the clock, 24/7 from the looks of it and some of its users would likely do just that if they could. Some chose to do it more during the night like the Paragon known as Ryan Knight and frankly he needed it for his soul he thought to himself. Mostly to forget what was going on recently. Him and Melony had decided to part ways, he wasn't going to dwell on the details. Didn't want to, the socials he had barely checked before and now were never checked because no doubt it was full of the usual ragebaiters. Granted though they had slowed greatly in recent weeks at least.

So The Paragon would either do one of two things in his nights now. Either read a book by his fireplace or workout and the latter was more stimulating. But he currently took a break and was sitting on the apron of one of the spare wrestling rings where he simply just stared off into the distance with his one eye, Ryan was dressed in a black rashguard and black leggings with 'Paragon' written in white letters down the right side with union jack patterned wrestling boots. His body lightly dripped with sweat as he simply waited for his body to rest so he could continue, so he wouldn't have to stop and think.........

[DSX93]

After the Slamathon In The Amazon,

had some extra motivation fueling him in the gym. He had another mountain to climb. New goals to toil for. It was the third time he'd stepped up to the big stage and came up short, a fact that his detractors online would never let him forget, not that he'd tried.

"Choke artist", was what one particularly prominent detractor had called him. And she wasn't wrong. Yeah, aside from those three occasions, he'd been emerging on his feet when the smoke cleared. Maybe he would've been wiped out and aching, but he'd be standing tall. But when it's time to bring home a belt? One that isn't even being officially recognized as a top prize, at that? To put an exclamation point to the activism he'd taken to in the promotion, lifting up the men's division? Telling the world that they're worthy, that they deserve the same respect and consideration that the women receive?

When shit gets real? He chokes.

It bothered him. Bothered the hell out of him. But at the same time, it motivated him. He's been doing this shit all his life: Getting beaten down and told he was nothing. Being underestimated. LAW has been one big tour of proving them all wrong.

He'd been dismissed as a just some scrawny ass wimp who was useful only for the purpose of getting better grades. The loser who's fated to die alone in his mother's basement. Look at him now.

World-class athlete. Millionaire. The man who'd won the heart of the most beautiful woman on the planet, inside and out, who was riding with him in his newest acquisition: A 1968

It had been a dream car of his ever since he saw Blade as a kid. One of many things that he'd once believed would only ever be dreams.

"Choke artist" was just another piece of wood in the fire that got him everything he's got today. A loyal fanbase. The money. The suits. The car. The comfort. The love. He earned all of it, and there was further he could go, still. Yeah, he still has his downer days. Those times where he feels lesser. Like he doesn't measure up. But that's something he knows now.

Just as the haters wouldn't let him forget his failures, his Lady would make sure he remembered his successes.

He parked the car, circled around to the passenger's side, and with his gentle smile, extended a hand after the door was open.

"My Lady."