Closing Her Mouth — Shimmerlace vs Brielle

[Malkavia]

Standard Match: Victory by Pinfall, Submission, or KO

—

Backstage, thirty minutes before the match, Shimmerlace chose a nice empty shower stall and sat with her head on the ground, legs kicking in the air, Irish "death metal" pounding in her ears.

(This so-called "death metal" really had more notes of punk-pop with notes of celtic instrumentation and accents roughly as authentic as her own—but fuck it. What did she care if Dropkick Murphy wanted to pretend at edge? A bop was a bop)

Such was an old habit with Shimmerlace, who liked to find odd ways to spend the minutes before a match with her mind simmering somewhere outside the proverbial quadrilateral prism. But today, her pose was stiff, and though she'd closed her eyes, she knit her forehead, as if there was something unpleasant behind her eyelids that wanted out.

Her mind drifted to her opponent.

Brielle.

Oh, there was buzz aplenty about ol' Brielle. Word on the street was she'd already locked arms with madame Cleo herself — another name illumined by increasingly neon lights — and that she was sure to soon rocket to the top of everything, given her immense, one might even say prodigious athletic talent. Here was a could-have-been football superstar, had she not instead been drawn to the squared circle. She had, naturally, like all great luminaries, given the Young Lioness program a hard pass, thank you very much, as a playground for babies that would ill-suit one of her immense stature.

(Not that Brielle'd put it in quite those terms, but your girl could read between the lines)

Shimmerlace grunted, sliding off the wall and plopping to the tiled floor with a frustrated thud. She sighed, popping the earbuds out. She was trying not think about the match. At least—she was trying not to think about the who of the match. Les peuples. Had it been visions of diving off the top rope, of locking her legs around a turnamajig crucifix power glitter bomb. Sure.

But the opponent? The fans? The goddam fuckin' announcer?

"Only shit what matters," growled the Feychild at the empty lockerroom ceiling, "Is the magic you can conjure. All else is..."

All else—that being the audience reception of course. From Kaguya at We Are LAW V, to the almost-empty seater with dear little Rai, to that shitshow with Audrey, they'd been victories every one of 'em, and yet the reception had been...

"Pure bullshit."

—

...At Five foot eight and onnnnne hundred and forty pounds! The Feychild herself—Shimmerlace! Snuggleblossom!

And here comes the music:

When the truth is found—to be lies! And all the joy within you dies...

The lights went dim, a strange wind stirred about the audience, and a pinprick of white spotlight glittered on the entrance ramp. Pink smoke billowed from under the ramp, soon engulfing the whole space with swirling patterns of rose as a smell like spring washed over the seats.

Don't you want somebody to love? Don't you NEED somebody to love?

And up she rose, back straight as a board, as if her heels were on a hinge with the ground. She threw up her arms and grinned as wide and naive and bright as the day of her first match (she hoped).

The Feychild in Mist

She jumped, and her eyes flit over the packed and rustling seats, left right, up down, searching. There was not a pinkette among the crowd—not a single fan from the coterie bedecked in her colors. Fuck it, though, she found someone who made eye contact. A rotund, bald gentlemen with a goatee, sporting a black T-shirt with some kind of metal band's gothic-lettered insignia. She winked and blew a kiss. He stuck his tongue into his cheek and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

Fucker, thought Shimmerlace before banishing that thought into a mental pit as she raced up to the apron. She caught the top rope, slingshot herself straight up, and got both feet on the rope. Up she popped, arms in the air as she balanced, and her theme crashed into quiet.

"Gooooooood evening! Ladies and gentlemen, mortals and immortals, and allllll the lovely shades betwixt, ye splendid people of the eassssstern hemispherrrrre!"

She was awash in every spotlight, gleaming pink and white and violet while her pale foundation and blush burned hot and greasy on her cheeks. She panted. The crowd mumbled.

OK then—Shimmerlace flicked her wrist. Those who blinked missed it, and so did those who did not, but somehow an apple POPPED into her hand. She bit down into the sweet, crisp red skin, grinned, and sat atop the ring post.

"...I understand tonight we face a competitor blessed by the gods with a prrrrrrrodigious—"

"Get on with it!"

Shimmerlace choked. Her eyes stormed over the crowd. She'd missed whoever it was, but she could see pockets of laughter, even if they were too quiet to make it from the stands to her ears. She grit her teeth, brow knitting.

"...A prodigious...Footballer talent. Welllll, says I. Tonight our wide receiver is sure to receive something, yeah? A good kick to her wide ass!"

There was a long pause. Shimmer's mouth crooked while her eyes lidded and her jaw went tight.

Fuck it.

She tossed the apple over her shoulder and slid into her corner.

[Blau<3]

Brielle stood by her locker, she was feeling a bit anxious, a rare feeling for the usual confident, radiant athlete. However, it was becoming hard to feel confident when her opening bouts of matches had gone so poorly. Especially in comparison to her previous life as the face of the new generation of USA women's football. She had it all, but gave it up to pursue this new dream of wrestling. It started as usual during her training days, her unrivaled athleticism overwhelming the others in the gym. Then in the indies, sure it was a bit tougher, but outside a couple deviant women who didn't play so nice it was a relative breeze to victory and admiration. Leading her to confidently moving to the pro scene at LAW.

However, she learned that once you make that jump to the pros, almost everyone had been at the top of their game in their respective areas. That's what makes pro sports so damn great, that even the worst pro performer was incredible in comparison the average. The gap between her ability and the competitions seemed to have shrunk from a chasm to merely a gap between two piece of tile.

Her time at LAW being loss after loss, some close and others downright humiliating. She had come across evil and cruel opponents before, but this place was another level. Brielle had been subjected to shameful levels of humiliation, and she was getting frustrated that she could not handle it. It's one thing to lose to another who is putting it all out there just like her, but it's another to have a victory cheated away. Pulling out a single win...or maybe two...and though it was nice, respectfully, noone was going to take those seriously. She had just become so angry, wanting real and fair competition. Maybe....maybe she picked the wrong path. She chose to forego the LAW's mentor program, the young lionesses, not as a sign of disrespect but more so she was eager to get out in the big stadiums and be a part of the main roster as with her journey before she assumed she was going to fit right into the mix. Was it too late to go back...

She just couldn't understand what was holding her back...it was clear regardless of the losses that she had all the physical tools. What was making it so hard to compete...she never had faced this type of adversity in her journey ever. She was getting a bit overwhelmed so she shook her head and took a deep breath. She had another opportunity tonight to try and get this on track. She opened up her duffel bag and got ready to change. This part always calmed her down a bit as one of her favorite parts of wrestling was the outfits and she loved hers, a blend of eye candy and intent to show off her physique that she had spent her life sculpting. Especially her alternate, which she was pulling out for just the second time to try and switch some things up.

She stripped naked as she slid on her white thong that fit snug on her hips and nicely between her plump, firm ass. She then slid on her black cut out skirt for some flair with a nice view of the rear ~, Putting on her white and black bra. Sliding on her sheer arms sleeves that hugged her biceps and loosened down to her wrists for bit of accent and elegance. Then slid on her white thigh leggings to cap it off. She stood up in the mirror, doing a twirl as she admired herself.

The Radiant Prodigy

Look at you girl...your body is incredible as ever. Let's turn this streak around, Brielle thought to herself as she shook herself loose just in time as the backstage director called her out. Brielle took a breath and slammed her locker shut as she made her way out. The strobe lights in the arena getting to work as her upbeat music began to fill the arena.

Brielle's favorite musician

"And her opponent coming in at 5'10 and 155 pounds! The firey footballer! Briieeellleeee Thooompsssooooon!!"

While she may not have been a success so far in the win column, she certainly had begun to win the hearts of fans. Whether it was her beauty, her incredible athleticism, or for the more deviant fans the way she looked being taken advantage of - Brielle could take some comfort in that the crowd seemed just as eager (or restless) for her to turn things around as she was. The fans cheered in joy to see the new signing once again in action!

Brielle made it the top of the ramp with a usual, radiant smile as the lights went on her incredible physique. She skipped down the ramp, giving high fives and blowing kisses. This is what eased her nerves before a match, smiling as she pranced to the ring. Sliding under the bottom rope with a slow, eye popping gesture before getting to her feet and flexing her toned arms for the crowd.

Spoiler

As Brielle looked over her opponent, immediately a moment of awe as she admired the beauty before her. Her gorgeous outfit, nice leggings, the elven aesthetic, the radiant aura exuded immediately captured the blonde. Brielle looked her in the eyes with her own gentle smile.

Brielle had heard from the back her opponent's silly remark, something about a wide receiver and her ass. Well Brielle loved banter just as much as the next and wouldn't mind partaking.

"Hello there darling, I heard your silly pun back there. One thing though, wrong football hehe. But I do like your grit...you seem real...GOAL oriented" She said with a playful wink, as the crowd react with giggles and playful groans from the cheesy pun. Brielle followed it up, "Looks like I'm really gonna have to STRIKER in her own ass!" This joke getting more laughs from the crowd as Brielle laughed along, it had been a bit since she directly had fun with the crowd and tonight was shaping up quite well, a welcome change.

Brielle stood strong in the middle of the ring, hands on her hips as she let the crowd take some more time to admire her toned, fit body before setting her eyes back on her opponent. "Good luck love ~ hopefully your wrestling is better than your puns teehee" She playfully teased as she got into a stance waiting for the bell.

[Malkavia]

Oh you laugh at THAT, do ya cunts?

Well—let's be honest, so did Shimmer, on the inside. Outwardly, she cocked her head back, jaw just a few millimeters open, arms on the top rope, and stared Brielle, as if reevaluating a dunce of a student who'd just drawn from material three units ahead.

Brielle hadn't even had the good graces to come out ranting and angry that Shimmerlace had gotten the sportsball wrong. Nah, she just stood over there, all chilly billy and confident, with that incredible ass and glowing smile—all charisma and rolling with the punches. And a muscle-mama to boot.

DING DING DING!

Shimmerlace sauntered out of her corner, smiling slyly as the two wrestlers began the traditional I-circle-you-circling-me trot. Two tigers in a cage.

"Sooooo, football prodigy is it then? Like with the black and white ball like a round ol' die? Neeeeeat, neat." Despite running her mouth, Shimmerlace kept her focus on the space between her and Blondie over there, weighing on her intuition...Is she close enough to strike? If she tried a tackle, how quick could I roll it? "I imagine all that training out there gave you a hell of a kick then. But eh—" Shimmerlace locked eyes with her opponent, wiggling her eyebrows as she rolled her shoulder, accelerating and skipping for a beat as they paced the ring. The crowd mumbled with anticipation, while the referee squatted in a far corner and watched. "How's your arm strength?"

She watched the footballer's face. Did she catch the note of challenge in those words? I mean—I don't THINK she's fucking stupid. Yet. Either way, Shimmerlace broke from the pacing and took one big step towards Brielle, glancing at her, glancing at the cunts in the seats. Then — unless Miss legs-of-oak over here decided to interfere — Shimmerlace swung her arm back, the wheeled it around, slamming a foerearm chop against her opponent's chest!

[Blau<3]

Brielle got into her stance as the bell rang. In the beginning, Brielle always came out the aggressor, almost always landing the opening blow. However, thinking of her record she decided to take the more methodical approach as she also moved slowly in a circle. Trying to see if she could spot an opening to pounce on. Her opponent sharing some banter.

Brielle wouldn't reply at first, she was inexperienced at reading an opponent's stance so she was putting some extra focus trying to see if she could notice anything. However, she also had a slight smile admiring her opponent's outfit. Taking some notes on some possible wardrobe changes in the future should she ever want to switch things up. She's pretty, likes to talk a little shit, AND has style ~...I like her! This will be fun! The blonde thought to herself.

Then she heard the challenging words as their pacing quickened. "Oh I assure you love, the arms are not far behind ~" She said in reply as she picked up what Shimmer was putting down. Just like in her footballing days, she'd come across some individuals who would seek a direct challenge, whether it was to see who could beat who in the 1v1 the most, most assists, whatever it may be it was always good fun for her and the crowd. Also it was quite early on in the match, so why not!? Brielle smirked accepting the challenge to come as she saw her opponent swing back.

"Show me what you got love!! Good luck breaking through this armor!" Brielle bantered as she puffed out and flexed her toned physique with a smile, biting down on her teeth.

WHACK!! The loud sound of the chop connecting across the footballer's bust filled the arena. The fans with an "ooooohhh..." as it echoed. A nice red mark left on her chest as Brielle grit her teeth, looked Shimmer in the eye and stood strong with a "RAAAHHH!!!" she yelled before she then flexed her muscles again to the crowd who cheered her display of toughness.

Spoiler

"Haha! Not bad there darling, didn't think you had that kind of sting in ya hehe~ Now it's my turn!" Brielle said as she looked at the crowd, cocking her arm back like she was about to throw a frisbee. Then with a smile, she came forward, hoping her opponent would give her the same respect, and sent a powerful chop aimed right back at her opponent's bust!

Spoiler

[Malkavia]

Ooooooh went the crowd—not exactly a POP, but it was enough to make something flicker happily in Shimmerlace's chest. Of course Brielle, true to form, tripled that reaction a moment later with her big ol' war-cry.

Shimmerlace crossed her arms, one eyebrow cocked, leaning back on one leg as she shook her head almost imperceptibly. A showboat, ey? Well fuck. She never could quite hate a showboat—particularly those sexy cretins with the shapely muscle to back up their shenanigans.

But then it was Shimmerlace's turn, a reality she stepped into with a light curtsy, spreading her arms to both sides, jaw turned up, eyes sparkling with a smirk.

CRRRRRRRRACK!!

The Feychild stumbled back blinking. One, two, three steps until her back hit the ropes. FUCK. It was only then she remembered to breathe, and only a second or two after that when she noticed she was clutching her chest where that WALLOP had just collapsed her chest cavity. It still hurt to breathe.

She charged again, no longer smirking.

Crack! went the fey arm.

Brielle swung in response. CRRRACK!!! This time, Shimmerlace choked, spittle flying from her lips.

OK—Shimmerlace had to face reality as she stumbled back from crack the second, eyes wide and jaw tight. This chick's got you beat here. She breathed, steadied her gait, mentally shoved down the pain exploding from her chest, and turned towards Brielle, who stood, one hand on her hip, all relaxed and chill. Shimmerlace began to feel, deep in her guts, in a smoldering kind of feeling, that there'd be nothing so hot in the world as to make this shapely monster of a woman choke on her confidence.

Shimmerlace charged again, hollering. "RRRRAAAAAGH—" except when it came for RRRAGH to become CRACK, her shout cut abruptly and she ducked down and to the right—a baseball slide!

The new game was bouncy: she kipped to her feet, twisting in the same motion and slamming her back into the ropes, so she could rebound and LEAP at Brielle. Then she'd soar and — if all went well — experience the immense pleasure of wrapping her thighs around her opponent's neck, wrenching that head into a heels-over-head throw, and slam this cunt down with a frankensteiner into the cruel, blue center of the mat.

[Blau<3]

THWACK!!!!

Like Indiana Jones cracking the whip, Brielle's chop slapped across Shimmer's chest with an even louder crack then the previous. The crowd with a louder "WHOOOO!!" as the sound filled the arena. Brielle smiled as she saw her opponent stumble back all the way to the ropes. Even more when she saw the pinkette clutch her chest.

However, despite the clear damage that had dealt Shimmer came right back at Brielle. This was AWESOME, Brielle waved her opponent on!

"COME ON!!! HIT ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!!" The blonde playfully teased when WHACK!! another strike across Brielle's bust. Right on top of the previous red mark. Brielle breathed through her teeth as she sucked down the sting. The crowd with a another mild, more obligatory, "whoo!".

The crowd then get excited when Brielle flexed and grunted around the ring. Her chest stinging, but not enough to break her. As she paced around Shimmer, the radiant blonde pumped up the crowd as she cocked back her arm. "ooooooooOOOOOOOOH!" They built up as Brielle sent another thunderous chop into her opponent.

"RAAAAHHHH!!" Brielle screamed to play into the warrioresque aura she was trying to show with the fun back and forth. She saw the look on Shimmer's face, realizing the mistake of trying to take her head on in a battle of blows. She put her hand on her hip and again with her playful tone jested

"Don't tell me you're giving up already! We're just getting started! Come on!!"

Shimmer came charging again, to Brielle's joy. She stood tall and braced for impact, closed her eyes and when just as she bit down she became confused when the yelling stopped but felt nothing. Her opponent at the last second hit an elegant slide right into jumping up into the ropes and leaping towards Brielle in a fantastical display of athleticism.

Brielle may have unrivaled speed, but that doesn't matter if you catch them by surprise. As Brielle turned to see what was happening her eyes widened, Shimmer immediately from the air wrapped her lovely thighs around the blonde's head. Shimmer's crotch an inch away from the blonde's face, and before Brielle could use her strength to try a reversal the pinkette flipped back and sent the footballer flipping forwards and crashing headfirst into the middle of the ring as it shook and rattled. An incredible display truly that received only a mild reaction as a chunk of the crowd felt let down the chop battle was cut short, feeling like Shimmer cheated the moment to land a surprise attack on Brielle who had been honorable instead of swallowing her ego and accepting she was bested.

In fact, as Brielle laid on her back spread eagle with her abs heaving and eyes rolling around from the impact, the crowd cheered louder for Brielle to get up back into the action. Brielle groaned as she blinked and shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs from the powerful slam she just took.

G-god damn...that...that was impressive...how did she do that The prodigal athlete thought to herself as she slowly started to come to.

[Malkavia]

The one question every kid wants to ask the Magician is—but how did you DO it?

Answer, as per usual: By finding and performing every wrong way to fuck it to pieces. Thrice. As she wrenched Brielle heel over head, she could feel the several hundred dozen SPLATS that could be rocketing her way—the dozen times she'd popped her own gourd against the mat, waking moments later with an ache in her skull and stars dancing between her and the ol' mentor's concerned face; the many shoulder-scraping wipeouts on grass or, twice memorably, on concrete when it was just her on her lonesome, tossing out the somersault on a whim as part of one of her solitary walks.

—But all that's just the rocket fuel that makes the move explode when it hits. And in this case, it hit. One footballer cunt, headfirst into the mat, with an impact that shook through her flesh and bone hard enough to pass through and rattle Shimmerlace's teeth. As for that Feychild, she kept going with the roll, smooth, feeling the momentum glitter and spark in her body as she bridged over Brielle, planting her feet in the mat, and — UP!
Her hands shot up in a Y, and she grinned, wavering unsteadily, panting at the audience. And of course, the Magician never really answers the kid, since the magic is that it just happens. Effortlessly, by fey glamour, for all they know.

It was maybe one baritone voice in a crowd peppering her with applause. Boo! Ye olde foghorn. One cunt a bit early on the draw. Her grin flickered. Her arms, almost imperceptibly, sagged. She felt suddenly stiff, cool under her sheen of sweat. She closed her lips.

Fuck 'em. She sniffed—and rounded on Brielle, who was — good — still down on her knees, despite growing calls from the audience. At the same time that she turned her focus onto the athlete at her feet, physically, she moved away—stepping back towards the ropes. Her instincts guided her left foot to the first rope, through which she pivoted—turning to face the ropes as her right foot took the second rope, which was her spring to the third rope. Then she jumped, hard as she might.

Just tune them out. Easy enough, once her body left the ropes behind and she was tumbling through air eight feet above the ring, savoring the half-second quiet reprieve from the stresses of the match as she floated—flipping into a moonsault meant to drive a nail into the coffin she'd just carved for the dear ol' footballer.

[Blau<3]

Brielle had been caught off guard, knocked down in a dazzling display that the blonde will look back at the tape and see if she can add it to her own arsenal. Her eyes fluttered as she came back to, the roar of the crowd invigorating her. Besides, it was a hard slam but nothing Brielle couldn't shake off in the beginning.

Brielle's years on the football pitch, though quite difficult, she would get knocked down onto the rough dirt or unforgiving turf. However, what made Brielle the football prodigy she was is due to her ability to get right back up in stride ready to enforce her physical stature on the field. Given it was easier against other footballer players as they were usually smaller, not as strong, or just not as good as her. In this place she was taking on people her own size and not only just as good as her but better! However, the ability to get right back up still was apparent in the newbies short tenure so far and it was about to be shown again.

Her vision came back as she looked to her side, watching as her elegant opponent climbed the ropes to prepare for another dazzling, at least to the blonde as the fans sure didn't find it impressive enough to counter their disdain, maneuver. Brielle quickly popped up to her feet with a smirk. She watched as the unsuspecting pinkette did her springs and flipped backwards.

The blonde planted herself and when she backflipped Brielle would have a look of amazement as their eyes met for a quick moment when Shimmer was upside down. Admiration sure, but Brielle knew she was in a match and she braced as she caught Shimmer right out of the sky. Almost as if she caught a princess falling out of the sky. The crowd gasping as Brielle stood strong, her leg and arm muscles flexing. Her glutes clenching as she didn't even stumble back once.

She looked down at the woman in her arms, "Impressive stuff ~princess~! But far from letting you get something like that off hehe" she said with a playful tone as then she bent forward slightly and with a grunt she tossed her "princess" backwards over her head and flying across the ring as they both crashed down to the mat.

Spoiler

The crowd went electric as they cheered and Brielle bounced onto her feet. Flexing her arms with a bright smile and a twirl. Brielle may not have had the success in the Wins column in her time, but she sure was winning hearts in every match she was in with her awesome displays. Her radiant confidence maybe a bit duller than her first few matches but right now she was still holding on.

Looking back at her opponent, "Now this getting fun! Let's keep it up!" She said in a competitive tone as she skipped forward, wanting to show off her own ability to dazzle, into a handstand and looking to do one of her football techniques and send a scorpion kick into her opponent's head as she got to her feet.

Spoiler