Post by Charity Crowne on May 1, 2017 4:59:22 GMT
First off...let me make one thing clear. I didn't LOSE the Iron Maiden. I wasn't the one pinned, I didn't LOSE anything. I was ROBBED by that neon nitwit, and...well, at least management's learned from their mistakes and offered me another chance to remind the world who and what I am. But...ugh, what a way to remind you all.
I have to deal with Shea O'Hara and Astrid Hall? God, it's like being force-fed a self-help book. You two losers are just leaning on each other so hard, aren't you? You can't get out from under Mummy's wing, so you've got to keep going back to her. Please. Once I was done with my trainers, I was done. End of story, no ifs, ands, or buts. You really want to prove you've got what it takes to hang with the big girls? Leave the ogre at home.
Astrid? I can run circles around you any day of the week. Lucky you, this week it's Monday. You saw firsthand what I could do in the Iron Maiden. You know what it's like to have to measure up to something Flawless, and you know that your giant self could never compete with someone like me. I was born just right. Right time, right place, right parents, right...everything. You need to go back to the history book or reenactor group you stumbled out of and stop wasting everyone's time.
I hear them all marveling over your size. You're a giant, yay! Once again, need I remind you that the Diamond Cutter cares not for size? One snap and it's all done, you're all over, and I'm one step closer to achieving my destiny of being a champion. You can call yourself a Shieldmaiden all you want, but we both know you'll never really be THE Shieldmaiden, no matter how many braids you put in your hair. It'd be sad if it weren't so funny.
Sit your arse down, Big Foolish Giant, and let me show you what it really takes to be a champion on the grandest stage. It's not enough to be able to plow through all the women that couldn't hack it in the real world, you have to be able to put it together when it counts. I've been a clutch performer all my life. High-stress is my Zen. What's the hardest thing you've done lately besides remember how to tie your own boots? Go ahead, step on up and try to hammer me down. Just a reminder...bigger they are, dumber they are...and harder they fall.
Shea, Shea. Shame. That's all I can hear whenever someone says your name. Shame. Shame you weren't good enough to follow through on all that promise. Shame you never really took it to that next level, where the real stars belong. Shame you came back, trained so hard, got into the Iron Maiden, and you just didn't believe in yourself enough. Shame you were so close, and now? You'll never be that close again.
I know you think you've got it made. After all, your partner is this colossus of a woman! How could you two possibly lose? But here's the thing, love...you're still on that team, and she can't wrestle forever. What happens when you get tagged in? Are you gonna be able to hang on, darling? Are you? Or is it going to be too much for you? Are you going to try to carry the load, feel that strain in your body, right in that arm, try to take the weight of your humongous partner...and fail? And...snap? Again?
's what I see in your future. Really, it's all you are. Promise and promise, with no delivery. You're like a bad boyfriend: you keep saying you can come through when it counts, and there are moments here and there, but for the most part it's just kind of disappointing and we leave at the end of the night feeling unsatisfied. Not that I ever have that problem. I'm more discerning than most, and...well, I've got no shortage of a talent pool.
I'm going to crush your dreams, darlings. It's fun, it's profitable, and really, what else was I going to do? I need to remind the world why I'm the Crowne Jewel, and without the greatest stage to shine on, I just won't be able to do it properly. I suppose that's it, then...oh. Oh, no. There is one more thing...the...THING I'm expected to partner with.
I'll use small words for you, Rowan. Words you know. Shea? Astrid? Break them. Be mean. Be mad. Make them hurt. I know you like to make them hurt. You like to make lots of people hurt. I'll deal with you next week. For now? We want the same thing. And if you even think of putting your hands on me, I have a Diamond Cutter with your name on it, express mail, care of Her Majesty's Royal Mail. For now? Just hurt them...so you can bring. Me. My. Title.
I wasn't meant to toil underneath forever. I'm a winner. I'm a champion. I'm Charity sodding Crowne...and it's about time you started paying me the respect I'm owed. I'm already the true Diamond...now you'll know what it means when a true Diamond gets rough. You're all about to get a crash course in what it means to be Simply...Flawless.
Cheers!
I have to deal with Shea O'Hara and Astrid Hall? God, it's like being force-fed a self-help book. You two losers are just leaning on each other so hard, aren't you? You can't get out from under Mummy's wing, so you've got to keep going back to her. Please. Once I was done with my trainers, I was done. End of story, no ifs, ands, or buts. You really want to prove you've got what it takes to hang with the big girls? Leave the ogre at home.
Astrid? I can run circles around you any day of the week. Lucky you, this week it's Monday. You saw firsthand what I could do in the Iron Maiden. You know what it's like to have to measure up to something Flawless, and you know that your giant self could never compete with someone like me. I was born just right. Right time, right place, right parents, right...everything. You need to go back to the history book or reenactor group you stumbled out of and stop wasting everyone's time.
I hear them all marveling over your size. You're a giant, yay! Once again, need I remind you that the Diamond Cutter cares not for size? One snap and it's all done, you're all over, and I'm one step closer to achieving my destiny of being a champion. You can call yourself a Shieldmaiden all you want, but we both know you'll never really be THE Shieldmaiden, no matter how many braids you put in your hair. It'd be sad if it weren't so funny.
Sit your arse down, Big Foolish Giant, and let me show you what it really takes to be a champion on the grandest stage. It's not enough to be able to plow through all the women that couldn't hack it in the real world, you have to be able to put it together when it counts. I've been a clutch performer all my life. High-stress is my Zen. What's the hardest thing you've done lately besides remember how to tie your own boots? Go ahead, step on up and try to hammer me down. Just a reminder...bigger they are, dumber they are...and harder they fall.
Shea, Shea. Shame. That's all I can hear whenever someone says your name. Shame. Shame you weren't good enough to follow through on all that promise. Shame you never really took it to that next level, where the real stars belong. Shame you came back, trained so hard, got into the Iron Maiden, and you just didn't believe in yourself enough. Shame you were so close, and now? You'll never be that close again.
I know you think you've got it made. After all, your partner is this colossus of a woman! How could you two possibly lose? But here's the thing, love...you're still on that team, and she can't wrestle forever. What happens when you get tagged in? Are you gonna be able to hang on, darling? Are you? Or is it going to be too much for you? Are you going to try to carry the load, feel that strain in your body, right in that arm, try to take the weight of your humongous partner...and fail? And...snap? Again?
's what I see in your future. Really, it's all you are. Promise and promise, with no delivery. You're like a bad boyfriend: you keep saying you can come through when it counts, and there are moments here and there, but for the most part it's just kind of disappointing and we leave at the end of the night feeling unsatisfied. Not that I ever have that problem. I'm more discerning than most, and...well, I've got no shortage of a talent pool.
I'm going to crush your dreams, darlings. It's fun, it's profitable, and really, what else was I going to do? I need to remind the world why I'm the Crowne Jewel, and without the greatest stage to shine on, I just won't be able to do it properly. I suppose that's it, then...oh. Oh, no. There is one more thing...the...THING I'm expected to partner with.
I'll use small words for you, Rowan. Words you know. Shea? Astrid? Break them. Be mean. Be mad. Make them hurt. I know you like to make them hurt. You like to make lots of people hurt. I'll deal with you next week. For now? We want the same thing. And if you even think of putting your hands on me, I have a Diamond Cutter with your name on it, express mail, care of Her Majesty's Royal Mail. For now? Just hurt them...so you can bring. Me. My. Title.
I wasn't meant to toil underneath forever. I'm a winner. I'm a champion. I'm Charity sodding Crowne...and it's about time you started paying me the respect I'm owed. I'm already the true Diamond...now you'll know what it means when a true Diamond gets rough. You're all about to get a crash course in what it means to be Simply...Flawless.
Cheers!
Well howdy there pardner.