Post by Amelia Hearts on Jan 2, 2021 19:32:26 GMT -5
Dear Harry,
Merry Christmas. That’s what people say at Christmas, right? Except normally they have someone to say it to. They have friends and family, and they haven't been crouched naked under a Christmas tree with a needle in their arm like an insane person in a mansion in Van Nuys. They're not out of their minds, they're not writing in a diary, and they’re definitely not-
Hah. Ok, you got me. That’s Xmas in Hell. But it still fits, don’t you think? Sure, I’m not shooting anything into my veins (not yet at least. Kells tells me it’s not all it’s cracked up to be), and I tend to stay clothed for the most part (to the dismay of some of my more thirsty fans. Also, I don’t live in a mansion nor Van Nuys, I’m in a cheap apartment in New York. I don’t even own a Christmas tree for Christ’s sake (pun intended). You get it, but the rest of it rings pretty fuckin true.
I’m alone on Christmas, my only companion has been a fuckin diary (no offense), and I’m spiraling into the dark abyss of insanity at a steady rate. It’s been a pretty fun ride so far, not going to lie.
Christmas day was spent with two or three (maybe four) bottles of whiskey and Home Alone playing on endless repeat. I didn’t even watch it most of the time, just as background noise while I drank myself into unconsciousness. That’s how the last few Christmases have gone in the Hearts household. It’s gotten a lot easier now that I have the money to buy my alcohol. Maybe next year, if wrestling keeps going my way (promo of the month AND superstar of the month, motherfucker!), I’ll have enough cash to drink the entire holiday season away in one go. A girl can dream!
But hey, it hasn’t been all bad. I did some damage in that Hardcore Heaven match. I shut that dumb bitch Cartier up by putting her ass through a table and scaring her away from the Horrorcore scene. I was in the final two, I put Rhodes into a pile of thumbtacks, and I would’ve won the whole thing if it wasn’t for Derrick Vayden sticking his fucking nose where it didn’t belong.
I was ready to slam myself onto those tacks just to take that fucker out and win my title. But instead, I eat the barricade and take a knee to the face. Gain my composure just long enough to get my head spiked and pinned.
So that sucked.
Looking back, I realized that match was made for me. That Horrorcore division is made for me. Don’t get it twisted, I’m not some masochist or sadist, but I legit live for that shit. I shamble through this life like a fucking zombie, just searching for anything that lets me know that I’m alive. And nothing does a better job at doing that than taking all kinds of damage and dishing it out twice over.
I will hold that title in 2021, Harry. And I won’t let it go once I do. Amelia’s Horror-Teria will be nothing you’ve seen before...
But before I earn that chance, I find myself placed into this Lethal Lottery tag team tournament for the tag team titles. I know, a perpetual loner opting to be apart of a tournament where you need to rely on someone else to succeed. Those two things don’t match up at all and are most likely a recipe for disaster. But if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s turning my life into a fucking disaster. So here we are!
I’ve been paired up with Portia Alexander. She seems cool enough, we seem to have a bit in common, but that doesn’t mean I trust her. That doesn’t mean I’m willing to put my fate into her hands any more than anyone else’s. She just needs to stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of hers, and we’ll get along fine.
Quite honestly it doesn’t matter who I’m partnered up with. Because all that matters is who I’m matched up against.
I must’ve been super fuckin good this year because I got a GREAT gift. I got Derrick Fuckin Vayden in the first round of this tourney. While he has to deal with that sentient airhorn for a partner, I’ll take great pleasure taking my time in bloodletting him. If he wants to take away my chance at the Horrorcore title in the name of his pathetic family feud with the boss, he’d better be ready to deal with the spirit of vengeance he put in me.
I’m ready to take these tag titles with Portia. I’m ready to take that Horrorcore title that should’ve been mine, to begin with. I’m ready to tear Vayden’s fucking head off. But all in all, I’m ready to make 2021 my bitch.
I’m done being the victim. I’m not some damsel in distress that needs saving. I’m a big girl with everything I need to be a badass in this business.
Just gotta balance that with also having a loud voice in my head telling me I’m a nobody piece of shit who doesn’t deserve shit. So… That’s gonna be fun.
And guess who’s gonna help me with that tightrope act whether they want to or not? That’s right! Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!
Love ya, Harry.
Signed,
AH.
Merry Christmas. That’s what people say at Christmas, right? Except normally they have someone to say it to. They have friends and family, and they haven't been crouched naked under a Christmas tree with a needle in their arm like an insane person in a mansion in Van Nuys. They're not out of their minds, they're not writing in a diary, and they’re definitely not-
Hah. Ok, you got me. That’s Xmas in Hell. But it still fits, don’t you think? Sure, I’m not shooting anything into my veins (not yet at least. Kells tells me it’s not all it’s cracked up to be), and I tend to stay clothed for the most part (to the dismay of some of my more thirsty fans. Also, I don’t live in a mansion nor Van Nuys, I’m in a cheap apartment in New York. I don’t even own a Christmas tree for Christ’s sake (pun intended). You get it, but the rest of it rings pretty fuckin true.
I’m alone on Christmas, my only companion has been a fuckin diary (no offense), and I’m spiraling into the dark abyss of insanity at a steady rate. It’s been a pretty fun ride so far, not going to lie.
Christmas day was spent with two or three (maybe four) bottles of whiskey and Home Alone playing on endless repeat. I didn’t even watch it most of the time, just as background noise while I drank myself into unconsciousness. That’s how the last few Christmases have gone in the Hearts household. It’s gotten a lot easier now that I have the money to buy my alcohol. Maybe next year, if wrestling keeps going my way (promo of the month AND superstar of the month, motherfucker!), I’ll have enough cash to drink the entire holiday season away in one go. A girl can dream!
But hey, it hasn’t been all bad. I did some damage in that Hardcore Heaven match. I shut that dumb bitch Cartier up by putting her ass through a table and scaring her away from the Horrorcore scene. I was in the final two, I put Rhodes into a pile of thumbtacks, and I would’ve won the whole thing if it wasn’t for Derrick Vayden sticking his fucking nose where it didn’t belong.
I was ready to slam myself onto those tacks just to take that fucker out and win my title. But instead, I eat the barricade and take a knee to the face. Gain my composure just long enough to get my head spiked and pinned.
So that sucked.
Looking back, I realized that match was made for me. That Horrorcore division is made for me. Don’t get it twisted, I’m not some masochist or sadist, but I legit live for that shit. I shamble through this life like a fucking zombie, just searching for anything that lets me know that I’m alive. And nothing does a better job at doing that than taking all kinds of damage and dishing it out twice over.
I will hold that title in 2021, Harry. And I won’t let it go once I do. Amelia’s Horror-Teria will be nothing you’ve seen before...
But before I earn that chance, I find myself placed into this Lethal Lottery tag team tournament for the tag team titles. I know, a perpetual loner opting to be apart of a tournament where you need to rely on someone else to succeed. Those two things don’t match up at all and are most likely a recipe for disaster. But if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s turning my life into a fucking disaster. So here we are!
I’ve been paired up with Portia Alexander. She seems cool enough, we seem to have a bit in common, but that doesn’t mean I trust her. That doesn’t mean I’m willing to put my fate into her hands any more than anyone else’s. She just needs to stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of hers, and we’ll get along fine.
Quite honestly it doesn’t matter who I’m partnered up with. Because all that matters is who I’m matched up against.
I must’ve been super fuckin good this year because I got a GREAT gift. I got Derrick Fuckin Vayden in the first round of this tourney. While he has to deal with that sentient airhorn for a partner, I’ll take great pleasure taking my time in bloodletting him. If he wants to take away my chance at the Horrorcore title in the name of his pathetic family feud with the boss, he’d better be ready to deal with the spirit of vengeance he put in me.
I’m ready to take these tag titles with Portia. I’m ready to take that Horrorcore title that should’ve been mine, to begin with. I’m ready to tear Vayden’s fucking head off. But all in all, I’m ready to make 2021 my bitch.
I’m done being the victim. I’m not some damsel in distress that needs saving. I’m a big girl with everything I need to be a badass in this business.
Just gotta balance that with also having a loud voice in my head telling me I’m a nobody piece of shit who doesn’t deserve shit. So… That’s gonna be fun.
And guess who’s gonna help me with that tightrope act whether they want to or not? That’s right! Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!
Love ya, Harry.
Signed,
AH.
She’s wearing thick black tights and boots, a heavy red sweatshirt depicting her heart logo with her hands in the kangaroo pouch pocket, and a green New York Jets knit cap holding her blonde hair inside it on her head. Amelia’s breaths are slow and steady as she stares into the camera for a moment. She’s incredibly still, the steam coming from her nose being the only marker of movement.
I’m sure it’s no surprise to know Christmas isn’t really my holiday. The lights, the music, the fake-as-fuck cheeriness, none of it is my style.
I hope you had a great holiday, Derrick. I hope you kissed your freaky wife and hugged your kid real fuckin close. Because I am going to break your fucking knees and make all forms of movement real tough for you for a long fuckin time.
Congratulations, bro. You finally grew a set of balls and walked away from WCF2 and went out on your own. Really, it’s a great thing to get out of a bad relationship, I know that just as well as anyone else. My problem with it is the fact that you decided to go after me when you popped up in the right place. Your first moments in Revolution1, your first impression on those of the Revo fans, were spent kicking the shit out of me.
I get it. You need to make a statement, show everyone you’re legit. But you had to have realized, whoever you aimed your shot at was going to return fire. And you better believe I’m going to be filling your ass so full of fucking lead.
I don’t give a fuck what you’ve accomplished, what you’ve done in the past. You’ve shattered title records, you’ve ruled over entire divisions until you decided you were done with them. Main evented shows, broke barriers for people like you. You used to be a big fucking deal.
But here? In Revolution 1? You’re a nobody. You’re at the bottom of the totem pole with everyone else. I’m gonna show you that you don’t have what it takes to push your way to the top. You gotta earn it just like I do.
Let’s be real with ourselves, DV. You and me are going to make each other a non-factor. We’re gonna leave it to our partners to finish the job for us because we’ll be too busy kicking the shit out of each other. They made a mistake giving you to me so quickly because I’m going to kill their shiny new toy.
Amelia chuckles and shakes her head.
Derrick, congratulations on getting out of a bad situation. But by picking a fight with me, you’ve all but guaranteed that your new venture will be just as much, if not more of a living hell…
Oh, and speaking of hell… I’m sure you’ll agree, having to listen to your lovable partner speak for more than ten seconds is pretty much hell on earth, huh?
If there’s one thing I’ve noticed in this fucking insanity one would call my life, it’s that there are a lot of insecure motherfuckers on this big blue marble. That’s one negative trait I’m proud to say I don’t possess. I know I’m a shit human being and I wear that shit on my sleeve. But you, Johnny? You sure as hell can’t say the same. It’s as clear as the nose on Rudolph’s face. Insecurity tends to disguise itself as confidence. And Johnny, you’ve got quite the false bravado.
That doesn’t mean I’m impressed by it, mind you. Nah, I’m just surprised you’ve convinced yourself that you’re such a big fuckin deal when you’ve done literally nothing to prove it. Not in Revo, not anywhere worth its weight in salt.
Though, I guess it’s not hard to convince yourself that you’re hot shit when your brain is nothing but a gerbil running on a wheel. And the gerbil is dead.
You’re fucking stupid, is what I’m getting at. I’ve seen enough of your shit to know you need things dumbed down for you.
I’m not a fuckin jobber for you, Johnny. You’re going to need to put in a little more effort to beat Portia and me than you do with your shitty attempts at promos. You only get one shot to make a first impression and you spend yours screaming like a kid that’s high on laughing gas. Now, clearly, you’re not the kind of person to care what the masses think of you but come on man. Put in a little effort. At least your partner had the balls to pick an actual fight with me in his debut. You? You decided to show yourself live via satellite or some shit and say a bunch of words that make you sound even more of an uneducated fuckstick
As far as I’m concerned, you two are a match made in goddamn heaven. Two fuckin has-beens who have failed in every company they’ve ever been in trying to make their name in Revolution 1 by taking spots they don’t deserve from people like me and Portia, people who earn their spots instead of trying to rip them from us.
This isn’t just about winning the tag team titles. This is about lighting a couple of sorry motherfuckers on fire. You made a huge fucking mistake by going after me, Vayden. And Jonny? You’re guilty by association now. So I hope you’re ready because I’m going to slit your fucking throats and watch you bleed out into the goddamn snow.
You’re both practically walking cliches, so let me give it a shot and see how I do.
Amelia dramatically clears her throat.
Merry fuckin Christmas, happy fuckin new year. Whatever empty greeting gets you through the days, it doesn’t matter to me. Because Portia and me are going to deliver a whole buncha seasons beatings for the both of you!
She mockingly wretches and mimics throwing up before glaring again.
I’m gonna go drink bleach to get that taste out of my mouth. I’ll see you pathetic motherfuckers at Sin.
Hearts holds her hand up in a lazy wave and walks away the way she came from as the scene ends.