#jobber squash

[underground-wrestling-fan-club]

This plaything is finished. He definitely needs a nice and long milking after that punishment & humiliation. This heel is having lots of fun punishing the twink.

#wrestling #gay wrestling #jobber #twink #squash match

[darkarfs]

I generally don't like using the word "overrated" because, at the end of the argument, it isn't a valid criticism of jack shit. It is you, saying that lots of other people - some "of note" - like it "too much" and that's bothering you.

I will apply that word, however, specifically to Dave Meltzer's 5-star rating of Dustin Runnels vs. Cody , a) because it's an actual rating, and b) the match really isn't that good or as dramatic as we're led to believe.

The relationship between the two (half)-brothers is well-established and that carries the requisite narrative weight it's meant to. And it flows really nicely and ramps up like, honestly, a WWE match. But it didn't need all the fucking blood. (I was not convinced, by the end of the match, that these two had a complicated history because of it, for example. Also, the blood and the fact that these two were born in Texas is the only reason Adam Blampied uses the phrase "Southern gothic" to describe this match on two separate lists and that's annoying as hell.)

But at the end of it? Honestly, I think Cody is a fine wrestler, but I don't care about him. He wrestles incredibly competently but I've never cared about his feuds or his matches or his gimmicks (except the ones that he hated, go figure, self-important blockhead). Alberto del Rio before we learned what kind of person he is. Justin Gabriel. Just a decent hand in the ring. Not enough to make me think him cutting open his brother and then slapping him in the face and then hugging him was what the match needed, not enough to make me believe they've had a tremulous relationship. In fact, it felt forced, like Cody said in the booking meeting "this is what this match needs" and everyone just deferred to him because he was the masthead of this flagship.

Caveat: I LOVE Dustin. I loved Goldust in his many incarnations. HIS selling was phenomenal. I DID feel for HIM when he had blood in his eyes and, frustrated, started swinging wildly and missing with every blow. But he was fighting dead air, and he gave the match more than it deserved.

#and I know he's an older man now but it says something that #A) that was his only PPV match in AEW; he's been strictly jobber squashes #on Dark (go figure) #and B) that he didn't win #wouldn't it have been more narratively satisfying for his one and only PPV match to be a win? #feh #I still don't like it

[tache-noire]

i need somebody to join me in my lance archer/fuego del sol rarepair hole

#i've never recovered from learning that lance was one of the first people to check in on fuego when he broke his foot #fuego is his favorite jobber/chew toy #he does not know how to express love except through bullying #and not even in a tsundere way #in a very genuine WE ARE HAVING FUN I AM THROWING YOU LIKE A RAGDOLL AND WE ARE BONDING kind of way #what do you mean a squash match doesnt count as a date #lance thinks theyve been dating for months #fuego thinks he hates him

[satelliteddt]

well I for one enjoyed last night’s squash

#had to keep the deathslot tradition of an under 10 minute match! #it was cute of Mox tbh #i don’t think Mox or Punk need the belt rn though tbh so I hope the next reign of someone will have more story to it! #they did hangman’s reign kind of dirty tbh #but yeah I thought the match was fine and unexpected and sets stuff up for later down the line #I don’t think they needed a 30 minute classic for the story they wanted to tell #squashes shouldn’t only be jobbers vs a known star tbh!! #squashes can be used effectively to tell a story

[pepsi-maxwell]

i miss mjf having his contractually obligated 4 matches a year schedule where at least one of them involved squashing a jobber in about 2 minutes and riling the crowd up

[smartycvnt]

Love-Hate

Title: Love-Hate Pairing: Matt Jackson x Reader Summary: Matt and Y/n are arguing, Y/n confesses her feelings for Matt, and Matt kisses her. R WC:978

Y/n knew better than to have thought that working with The Elite would go smoothly for her. The guys were nice enough, but Y/n had never really gotten along with them. Truthfully, it was Matt who had always been the instigator. He had something against her, which was unfortunate because that meant Y/n had to keep her feelings about him to herself. She liked Matt, and a part of her always would, no matter how many times he pissed her off. She had just sort of started to avoid him in order to keep the peace, but that didn't seem to be the most foolproof plan. They still managed to butt heads a lot more than normal people would have. That was why their little segment together had quickly dissolved into chaos.

"God, I should have known better than to think you could be professional enough for this to work. I don't see why Adam insists on working with you so often," Matt scoffed. Y/n clenched her jaw as she turned away from him. The words hurt, but she was stronger than the urge to let it show.

"Guys, come on," Nick said in a futile attempt to stop the argument. Kenny pulled him back, well aware that the two of them needed to get this out of their system. The storyline had just begun, and it was one that Tony Khan wanted as Y/n's introduction to the company. She was an acquisition that Tony felt he absolutely had to do something special with. Y/n had originally been one of the wrestler Tony wanted in the very beginning, but the bad blood between her and Matt had stopped that idea in its tracks.

"No, obviously Matt obviously has some things that he wants to say, and I'm curious as to what they are," Y/n said as she pulled up a chair and sat down in it. Matt rolled his eyes as he looked down at her. It was the little things that Y/n did that always got on Matt's nerves.

"Everything is a joke to you, isn't it? You've just coasted by because your boyfriend can wrestle and you're attractive enough, right? I mean, what were you really doing before your little stint at the Performance Center? Fuck, I think that Sammy made it further than you when he tried out. I wonder what it feels like to know that people who were never going to be more than jobbers made it further than you at your dream company," Matt said. Y/n had planned on staying calm and collected, but that had pushed her over the edge.

"For your information, I walked out of there on my own. I didn't want to be a jobber at some big company because that's fucking bullshit. You are so goddamn judgmental for someone who bitched out of Impact. Yeah, I dated a few top guys at other places who trained me, but you can go back and ask anyone who was there at the same time as me, I fucking worked my ass off. I took the losses, squash matches, small wins, big wins, and championship runs with the same level of seriousness. I'd hate to break it to you, but I'm going to be here for the next year, so if you can manage to get your pretty little head out of your ass for it, that'd be great. Especially this next month or so while we work together." Y/n had shot up out of her seat and taken a step towards Matt with each of her statements. Her index finger was poking him in the chest as he stood backed up against a table.

"You think I'm pretty?" Matt pouted. Y/n took a step back as she balled up her fists.

"God, you are so infuriating! I can't believe I ever thought I could fucking love you!" Y/n shouted as she stormed off. Matt's face fell as he watched her go.

"I told you so," Kenny muttered as he leaned towards Nick and Adam.

"Go after her man!" Adam yelled at him. Matt didn't need to be told again. He started running towards Y/n, who had gotten surprisingly far for how crowded the backstage area seemed to be.

"Y/n, wait!" Matt called out. Y/n stopped, but kept her back turned towards Matt. "Can I start with I'm sorry, because I really am. I was out of line for what I said, and for a lot of what I've been saying."

"Matt, we don't have anything to say to each other. Thank you for apologizing, but I think it's best if we keep our separate ways," Y/n said.

"I understand that, but I also think that we've been mean to each other for the wrong reasons. I don't hate you, I just wasn't really ever sure where to put my feelings. You said that you loved me earlier, and I want that to mean something," Matt said. Y/n opened herself up to him a little more as they stood alone together backstage. Matt extended his hand towards her, and instead of just taking it, Y/n moved in for a hug. Matt couldn't explain it, but something about that hug felt perfectly for him. "I'd really like to kiss you."

"Then do it," Y/n said. Once again, Matt moved without hesitation. He let his lips press against Y/n's firmly. Matt had always been a man of honest emotion, and this kiss had all of his feelings about Y/n wrapped up nice and neatly. Whether she chose to dig in that deeply was completely up to her. He laid himself out for her to pick apart at her own will with the hopes that she wouldn't just leave him so exposed.

#my writing #one shot #aew x reader #aew #matt jackson x reader #matt jackson

[guywrestlingaddiction]

That Wresting Moment: Turning the Tables on the Big Man - Rex Brody v Nick Milani (muscleboywrestling.com)

Sometimes things don't go according to the script and maybe, just maybe a plucky young twink can turn the tables a big hulking heel.  

Rex Brody v Nick Milani (muscleboywrestling.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

The Backstory

We open with a lithe Nick Milani stretching out in the center of the ring while a much larger Rex eyes him up from the sidelines.  "I love beating up the pretty boys," Rex barks out while entering the ring before grabbing said pretty boy.  

Those of us familiar with the classic Heel-Jobber setup can almost picture what comes next - a dominant brute will almost certainly conquer our hero... or will he? 

The Action

It follows the usual script with our Heel using his huge arms to over power and mercilessly beat our hero. 

There are points where Nick strikes back hard.  He throws that entire small frame of his against Rex to some effect, the problem is he's simply not enough to make a dent in all 210 pounds of muscle.  

Eventually it becomes clear that Rex is a bit too distracted to really take the advantage here and instead of quickly pummeling his opponent he savors and takes his time.  We'll find out that this is where Nick shines and leads us to our wrestling moment.  

The Moment 

Evolving from a classic Heel squash this match turns into an underdog match.  You'll cheer for Nick and boo Rex for his shear cruelty. All of Rex's 210 pounds of muscle is reduced to a quivering, shaking mess.   I'd like to think that Rex was ready to dominate this match but held back because little by little, Nick broke down his self control.  

So what have we learned today? If you can't out muscle a giant brute you can always control him through lust. In the end, while Rex might be the better wrestler, Nick is just too irresistible to handle and he flipped the jobber script around to play the heel.

#gay wrestling #muscleboywrestling #Nick Milani #Rex Brody

[vicsy]

maxiel wrestling au ✨ 2.7k words that boinked me in the head cause i miss the good old days.

The new guy is way too green to be fit into a match right before the main event and Daniel voices his genuine concern with zero hesitation. It's his reputation at risk. Christian claps him on the shoulder assuredly, paints the guy — his name is Max and he goes by Super Max until creative will have something to do with that, fuck's sake — in the brightest colors. Tries to make a sell, a corporate rat in and out of the ring.  

And the thing is, the new guy is sort of gloomy, doesn't smile much even when Daniel offers his signature greeting. He's not a fucking asshole, he won't tell a rookie to go to hell for that. They've all been there, first day jitters and all. But, man, this new guy. Something is off about him. 

His ring gear, for starters, and Daniel shouldn't be the judge since his mom made him his first ill-fitting set back in Australia when Daniel was seventeen and scrawny, fresh-faced with crooked teeth and the energy of three hundred power plants. So, yeah, it's bad wrestling etiquette or whatever but the outline of a lion in the middle of the rookies' — sorry, Max's — ass is… something. The blue and gold shorty shorts fit alright, though, Daniel does give them an appreciative look. He prefers pants and shin guards, that's all.  

And, shit, looks like this Super Max, for crying out loud, designs his gear himself, judging by this very self-indulgent print. People are gonna tear him to shreds, like vultures; crush his spirit, knowing how this biz works when you're twenty-five and still wide-eyed, full of dreams of making it big, becoming the next Shawn Michaels or The Great Senna. 

Max is surely no wrestling royalty, no Rosberg or Flair or Schumaher. His dad was some midcarder in the late eighties back when FWF was at the cusp of breaking viewership records. And, surely, Max is a texbook continuation of his father's unfulfilled hopes. Daniel can read it in the way Max held himself, in the way his arms fidget when he talks and beside him Christian nods, proud, like it was his son making his big screen debut.

Daniel wonders, why him. Putting Max against younger guys would have been more plausible. Putting a company rookie against an established champion definitely seemed like a choice. 

"Don't forget that I make the calls, Daniel," Christian says, the finality in his voice clear as day when Max steps away to put his signature on a contract for the night. Then the suit-and-tie fucker gives him a cunning little smile and Daniel swallows a witty response stuck on the tip of his tongue. "Besides, he asked very, uh, insistently to pair you two up. How could I have been in the right mind to say no to the future of wrestling wanting to take on one of the crowd favorites?"

Well. Fuck. Daniel would know how, being an absolute gem on the mic but nobody's asking, so he's shit out of luck in that department. And currently booked in match with a guy who apparently admires him. Same height and, what? Eight years younger? Daniel tries not to read it as a sign for retirement. 

They settle on a cage match and, surely, it means essentially throwing Max into the deep end from day one but his eyes shine eagerly and he goes on a tangent, dissects the match step by step as if he's been running with the FWF for as long as Daniel did. Ten fucking years, thank you very much, and he knows damn well how to put on a show without some jobber — alright, sure, Daniel isn't supposed to squash him but still — running his mouth with a wrestling for dummies kind of talk. But Max didn't look like the same person who glowered at Daniel minutes before. He seems like someone who loved wrestling with all his being, lived and breathed the craft, came alive with the sound of the bell, the boos and cheers; the bruises and tore muscles, broken bones and bittersweet victories. 

"We doing the spot?" Daniel interrupts but in good nature, stretching his shoulders one by one, wearing a lazy smile to hide his annoyance. He half expects Max to refuse, back out of it. Wouldn't blame him, really. "Top of the cage, before the bell."

"Of course," Max answers too quickly, voice croaky, his chin lifted high as if Daniel offended him. Doubted him on the spot; doubted his hunger to make a name in the biggest wrestling federation known in the world. "It's a cage match after all. We have to make a good show."

We, huh? Perhaps the kid knows a thing or two. 

"Yeah, cool," Daniel tugs his Beats on, cues a special playlist in a pre-match ritual. "See ya in the ring, Super Maxy-Max."

He walks off to warm up as the show begins but not before noticing a sudden blush on Max's pale cheeks, his chest puffing with a response that he breathes out in a language Daniel can't place. He bounces around backstage, high-fives miserable-looking Charles on his way from the ring. His chest is streaked with red lines. Poor guy took the brunt of Fernando's chops. Daniel could still hear his music playing as he celebrated a win accompanied by heartfelt boos of the crowd. Eh, fucking marks. 

Daniel makes a point of not acknowledging Max at gorilla position, adjusting his shockingly colourful ring gear instead, slinging the FWF championship belt over his shoulder. It's childish to use it as a shield and Daniel is the nicest guy to his core, cross his heart, but the wrestling biz is cutthroat. And even Max's music is not on par with the standarts when it plays after Daniel finished making his way to the ring, greeted the crowd and sent the shirt he wore flying towards the grabby hands of his faithful fans. They are, truly so, booing loudly along with the generic entrance song, letting Max feel their disdain from the start, not letting him mistake it as a warm welcome. Not against their favorite Badger. 

And yet, Max's face remains blank. The way he slowly removes his own t-shirt and neatly leaves it on the side of the ring pulls a chuckle out of Daniel. God, he's so spectacularly green. 

Simply on the grounds of Daniel being a fucking face, he reaches his hand out after the bell dings and the metal cage above them descends agonizingly slow, inviting Max to lock up; a class act. Max knocks his hand away, expression scrunched in a mask of disgust. Daniel takes every assumption he made back; they're about to have a grand ol' time. 

Max's style is a bit choppy but he doesn't strike Daniel as a high-flying type. Mostly old school moves, orchestrated to a precision not every rookie has. They exchange a couple of blows and Daniel takes initiative for the time being. He ducks away from a spear and Max hits the turnbuckle shoulder first, turning with a grimace of pain. He doesn't oversell, a great fucking sign for them both, and Daniel bounces off the ropes to deliver a flying knee to the side of Max's jaw. He takes it magnificently, falling to his knees completely unbalanced. 

Maybe, just maybe, he owes Christian the benefit of the doubt. At very least, their styles are a match, perfect opposites to elevate each other's strengths. Max's brawler against Daniel's technician; a study of contrasts between the brawn and the showmanship. 

He ends up putting Max in a figure-four smack dab in the middle of the ring so he can’t reach for the ropes to save himself and, shit, he sells so wonderfully that Daniel's mind wanders. There is something in the bend of Max's neck, in the strength of his entire figure — built but limber, writhing under Daniel's scrutiny, completely at his mercy. The give Max's body begs to be molded in his hands and, suddenly, a startlingly clear image surfaces at the back of Daniel's mind. Tag matches turning into tag titles, titles turning into a betrayal to feed the storyline; and then the redemption arc.

Then, a reunion. Full circle. Squared circle.

It's breathtaking, in truth. The easy push and pull, the synergy buzzing in the air between them, Max struggling out of the submission hold to pin Daniel's shoulders against the mat. A brash fucking attempt for a pin; he kicks out at one and rolls some distance away, eyeing Max to add to the dramatic of their unlikely clash. 

The crowd goes wild. Daniel stretches his lips in a smile, sharp like the jagged edges of the glass they pour out for hardcore matches. He catches himself thinking that he'd go for one with Max. Maybe just to see those lips bloodied, returning his smile tenfold. 

Time's almost out, the referee lets them know discreetly. Daniel lets Max turn the tide, drive him head first into the wall of the cage, hitting through the ropes with a clang. Daniel's head gets beaten against the turnbuckle, his back slammed against the mat with a perfectly executed chokeslam and the crowd gasps with sympathy. Max busies himself with prying the gate of the cage open, acting the heel part eerily well as Daniel catches his breath, sells Max's beating appropriately, without an overkill. 

He pulls Daniel outside of the cage, outside the ring, dragging his face against the barricade towards the commentator table. Max makes sure to interact with the crows, give them an opportunity to hate him, call him names. Something akin to adoration swells in Daniel's chest; he doesn't understand where it's coming from and then Max clotheslines him hard and he crumbles onto the floor lined with thin mats.

Good move, that. Suits the set up right.

Max almost throws a middle finger to the crowd and starts climbing the side of the cage with a single intent, much to the horror of the arena. Yeah, real fucking marks but Daniel wouldn't have it any other way. He counts to thirty in his head, sprawled flat on his back near the commentator table, having one of their tiny screens jammed in his midsection before by Max's enthusiastic efforts. He counts and follows the lines of Max's body, the broadness of his shoulders and the paleness of his skin. It makes Daniel's mind wander anew, in a direction it shouldn't, not in the middle of a high-risk match. 

The crowd gets antsy, urging Daniel to get the hell up, and so he does, Max halfway up on the cage, unknowing, with a sinister plan of his own. His muscles protest but it's hardly anything new. Daniel manages to catch up to Max in a flurry of adrenaline-addled motion, reaching up to hook his hand in Max's ridiculous shorts. Max looks down at him, expression purely shocked to satisfy the crowd and Daniel counts again as he tugs. Once, twice.

It's never pleasant, plummeting down and straight onto the commentator table. It breaks with a horrible sound under Max's back and he lies there, unmoving, the commentators standing not far away, still doing their job. Daniel hangs onto the slippery metal of the cage, listening to the crowd yelling and frothing at the mouth for him to do the thing they all came here for. He raises one hand and pumps his fists in the air twice, eliciting a reaction that makes his mind go into an overdrive. 

He takes a breath, bending his elbow for his signature move and jumps.

The Ricciardo Special lands beautifully on Max's midsection, making him yelp and seize from the pain. Daniel is so used to hitting the ground this way but the calmness that comes hand in hand with the fall is forever unsettling. Max breathes raggedly underneath him, limbs akimbo and his eyes half-shut, eyelashes fanning his splotched cheeks. From Daniel's point of view he looks like someone gave him a fuck of a lifetime. The sight makes Daniel's heart skip.

In the wreckage at the ringside, the perpetual hunger Daniel left unsated stirs impatiently, awakening from a famished slumber.  

Max's body under his own feels like it belongs; feels like a missing piece finally fitting. It hits Daniel like a freight train, the all-encompassing normalcy in the midst of controlled chaos.

He squeezes Max's wrist twice in a silent question, their limbs tangled together on the broken bits of the table. Max's fingers twitch against his hold — yes, I'm okay. 

And the show goes on towards the long-awaited climax. 

It takes Daniel thirty seconds to peel Max off the floor by the back of his neck, squeezing tight and roughly hauling him back inside the cage, rolling them both into the ring. It's a whole ordeal, his body exhausted and Max matches him there, too, playing the beaten to the pulp heel as if he's been doing it since he learned how to walk. Daniel drags him to the middle of the mat again, admiring the pliancy with which Max follows. There's a persistent ringing in his ears and an electric shock wracks through him when he gets his hand's on parts of Max's body he managed not yet to touch, no resistance as he bends him in half, Daniel's palm sliding against the sweaty skin under Max's knees. The referee appears next to them, slamming his palm against the mat.

One. Two. 

And when Max eats the pin like he's supposed to, like they've settled in the pre-match booking with Christian, Max's prominent mouth pressed into a thin line making Daniel think who the fuck does this jobber think he is, all the sounds of the packed arena rush into his ears as the bell rings and the cage finally lifts, freeing them. The crowd erupts and Daniel rolls over onto his back, gulping air, Max's arm pinned under him, sweaty skin sticking together. His music hits like a fucking tornado; another win sequred under his belt but all Daniel can muster at that moment is to turn his head against the stiffness in his neck, catching Max's gaze already trained on him. Mouth open, chest rising up and falling so rapidly Daniel seems to lose his breath again. 

Or perhaps it's the shine in Max's eyes, their color clear-blue like the spotlights above. Daniel finds it hard to look away and he desperately needs to drag himself to his feet, clutch the championship belt to his chest, an assurance of his stature; something solid to hang on to.

Max asked to wrestle him first. Daniel grasps at the foreign feeling blooming behind his ribcage.

His win doesn't feel like one. Not with Max suddenly so close to claiming a space for himself, claiming what's his and he's so damned good it scares Daniel momentarily. But the fear dissipates as quickly as the pain does when someone lands a chair shot just the right way. A satisfying kind of pain. With a slight twitch of his mouth, Max is the first to move away, further to the ropes. The skin of his back is angry red, the mess of moles speckled with blood where the impact from the commentator table scratched and tore into his flesh. 

Max rolls off the ring and limps up the ramp, holding his ribs gingerly. He turns when the referee raises Daniel's hand and he manages to straighten the other one with belt in it, showing it off as you still got it echoes in a thousand voices. For the first time he doesn't revel in the outpour of love and adoration, the crowd clapping and chanting his name. He doesn't look them over with a smile and his chest still feels caged, much like he and Max were moments ago, locked in what wasn't just a match. 

Something snaps; something ends. Daniel feels the shift clear, like the Earth tilting on its axis taking him with it and leaving Max standing still, his scuffed, golden boots rooted firmly to the ground. The weight of the championship belt turns laden, drags Daniel deep into the uncharted waters as he stares Max down, challenging and unabashed, blood thrumming with adrenaline. The bundled tightness in his chest lingers and lingers and lingers.

A corner of Max's mouth quirks up, eyes crinkling; no real malice behind them, just an answer to a soundless call, a promise for more. 

Daniel feels like he's the one plummeting down from the cage, from the top of a tower he built in his own name, not with stone but with blood, sweat and tears. Max follows suit, crashing into him without reservation, raw talent and blunt force, the soft edges of him breaking through skin and bone going straight for the heart; straight for the pin. 

The count follows, inescapably.

In his mind, Daniel doesn't kick out. 

#vicsy writes #maxiel #waves hands vaguelly #this is very poorly put together and i haven't written so deliriously in months #serves me right to remember that wrestling is my first love #daniel/max #maxiel fic #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #f1 rpf #333 #apologies for all the fucking mistakes I surely missed #i just need to get it all out #wrestling au

[xxamorxexmortexx]

Now why the hell did you bring this poor man over from NXT for a two second squash when you could have just gotten a jobber? That wasn't even entertaining

#wwe #tawny's watchin smackdown

[dilf-in-peril]

For real, Punk is booking Joe on every show because he loves watching him squash jobbers so much and he loves sitting giggling backstage, twirling his bald head, and then when Joe comes back he

#ignore this

[wrestlingisfake]

DOUKIMANIA~!

OK, I've been waiting since Wednesday to talk about Jack Perry vs. DOUKI on Rampage.

I don't think most of the fans in the building knew who Douki was. Or if they did know him, they were confused why he was brought in. In general the crowd was very into the big names from New Japan, and they knew enough about the United Empire to root for the faction rather than just mark out for Ospreay. But their main taweaway about Douki was "he looks like a Mortal Kombat guy" and "his name sounds like "dookie" (actually it rhymes with "chokey").

In the early going a few smartass "Let's go Dookie" chants started up, along the lines of "let's go jobber." I don't think many people expected the match to be anything more than a quick squash. But after Douki made a couple of comebacks people were surprised that Jungle Boy couldn't put him away. And when he did some cool flips and such, the crowd started getting behind him. When Jack made a comeback, he got booed hard, and at one point he made a face like "really?"

Around the point Douki did that big highspot into the table, the fans realized this guy was for real and were unironically behind him. They chanted "holy Dookie" instead of "holy shit." After Jack finally won there were "thank you Dookie" chants, as if he was a top star who just passed the torch in honorable defeat. When SANADA came out to do a staredown with Perry, I don't think a lot of people made the connection that he and Douki are in the same faction. So when Sanada stopped on his way out of the ring to pat Douki on the back, it got a reaction as if the IWGP world champion was acknowledging that this weird random jobber had unexpectedly impressed Chicago.

I don't know, I might be reading too much into it. But one thing's for sure, Chicago loves DOUKI, and Tony Khan needs to bring him back soon.

#aew #njpw #douki

[vashito]

so given the roster size of zero-g,these would be the main girls of focus,but i gather storywise they got a plentiful locker room esp if their cards or shows tend to be loaded with the odd free agent here and there. esp from japan,america,canada pretty much anywhere with a thriving wrestling scene. if this were animated i'd watch it,we need a wild over the top wrestling show ala lucha underground,urban wrestling fed,wrestling society x and of course tiger mask w

yeaaaa theres definitely gonna be jobbers for them to squash, im thinking doing a comic for them would be something i could do, but everytime i catch myself daydreaming im thinking about it as an anime with a cool anime intro loooooool

[aerodaltonimperial]

Do we all understand that Danhausen is benched and injured and NOT HERE right now and therefore we are simply NOT ABLE TO GET HOOKHAUSEN BACK at present like do we understand this I literally don't get it, why do we hate fun things when we very obviously, reasonably, and logically cannot have the thing we all want, do we want Hook to never do anything other than squash matches lol what a buzz kill let him do something fun while we wait??? He deserves to not have shitty jobber matches for months??? Like I just want him to have a nice time y'all please lol

#listen y'all please #my entire dash is flooded with this right now #and like i get that we all want it BUT HE IS OUT #PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD #let us enjoy something #that is fun and also fun for them

[guywrestlingaddiction]

Everything Great About a Match: Tim World v Roberto (ukwrestlinghub.com)

Everything Great About this Match: + 4

Tim World v Roberto (ukwrestlinghub.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

So let's begin: 

+1: For Tim.  The guy knows how to look incredible while also showing that he's a solid gay pro wrestler.  Not only is the man at home in the wrestling ring but he also brings a certain cockiness with him that deserves a point.  

+1: For this side bearhug squeeze variation.  Is this a real move? The fact is that I'm sure none of us care.  This hot little squeeze is designed to punish your smaller opponent.  I love that Roberto can't (or more likely won't) get out of this hold because Tim's heel energy is so intense that he can't leave.  This perfectly shows off the power behind Tim while simultaneously highlighting his opponent's helplessness. 

+1: For your typical over the knee back breaker. I can't not give a point for this move, plus Tim is looking ripped as he bends Roberto over his knee.  The guy knows how to flex + punish his opponent to proper affect.  

+1: Finally I love that while most squashes focus on the jobber, making him look good, in this case, Tim knows how to make himself shine.  He knows that by punishing his opponent in such a way, he comes off looking like the sexy heel badass that he is.  The savageness of Tim is in full effect with this match.  

------- Everything Great About this Match: +4

So there you have it.  This is a decent squash, instructional video, gay pro wrestling match.  Tim manages to hit on all the major wrestling moves and more importantly knows how to make his savageness shine during this match.  I've seen other squash matches where the lithe jobber is thrown around and punished but this turns that on its head.  All in all, we are treated to a match full of solid close ups and extra attention to the velocity of Tim.  

After all it's Tim's world and we're all just living in it.  

#gay wrestling #ukwrestlinghub #tim world #roberto

[wrestlingarsenal]

I recently watched this classic Squash Match filmed in 1966 on YouTube and really got off on the realistic brutality of it. My video is a summary of the First Fall -- I'll post a video of the Second Fall soon. You can also watch the full 16 minute match on YouTube if you prefer.

Our fit young jobber is Dave Cox. The sadistic Heel in long black tights is Buddy Austin -- I never heard of either. I learned through some half-assed Internet research that Buddy Austin was quite the famous villain of his day, often claiming he had sent 20 wrestlers to the hospital. His nickname was "The Killer" because he had also supposedly killed an opponent using his deadly Piledriver!

Austin is spectacular as the Invincible Blond Heel, dishing out an endless barrage of elbows and knees; strangling the "young boy"; weaponizing those black leggings by repeatedly scraping the thick fabric across the victim's eyes to blind him. No wonder they called him "Killer," I thought, as I watched him apply repeated Neck Breakers -- is he trying to cripple this defenseless youngster?

This is the sort of realism that first drew me to pro wrestling -- this dedication by grown men to create a realistic portrayal of agony, trauma, and sadism. For example, calling himself "Killer". Or the commentator mentioning: "Looks like the Killer just wants to torture the young boy right now." They made pro wrestling feel so brutal, frightening, and just plan masculine to young fans like me.

As a kid, I would question if I was even tuff enough, manly enough, to tune in and watch this "Killer" torture his young prey and possibly kill them before my eyes. What if his brutality scarred me or made me sick? What kind of sport is this, and why was I so hard for it? -- I would wonder to myself. So this video is a little before my time, but it brought back memories of that era of wild, sleazy, violent rasslin.

To Be Continued...

#classic wrestling #wrestling video #killer buddy austin #neck breaker #choking the jobber #jobber squash #black and white wrestling

[tache-noire]

OK HERES WHY YOU SHOULD CARE ABOUT RAVENOUS RANDY MYERS, AKA THAT BLUE-HAIRED JOBBER THAT GOT SQUASHED BY THE KINGS OF THE BLACK THRONE

(Of Course You Have Green Hair And Pronouns)

hi so i'm obsessed with this guy. 40 years old, been wrestling since he was 18, very technically skilled, pansexual, goes by he/they pronouns, HIGH camp, very fun and nice guy who wears his heart on his sleeve.

You may be familiar with those gifs of him making out with Filthy Tom Lawlor BUT THAT'S JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG BABY.

Part of his gimmick is that he kisses ALL of his opponents, and before Covid, during his entrance (to "At Last" by Etta James), he would kiss one or two people in the front row, as well. Now, it's just a hug. Safety first.

I'm only really familiar with his matches with DEFY, but he's had a pretty extensive career starting with Stampede Wrestling in 2001. from 2007 to 2020 he was a familiar face in ECCW, but I haven't been able to find many of his matches online yet. I'll have to look harder sometime.

ANYWAY. HE DEBUTED AT DEFY IN 2017 AND INSTANTLY ENDEARED HIMSELF TO THE FREAKS AND WEIRDOS OF THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST!

And he's had some great matches with some folks you might recognize from AEW!

^^^ Swerve Strickland! ^^^

^^^ MJF! ^^^

JUST before the quarantine, Randy even won the DEFY World Championship-- his first title in his entire career. It was an extremely emotional event for everyone, and the ring was broken in the ensuing celebration.

He would then be trapped in Canada for nearly two years, unable to defend it. An interim champion was named, and upon his return, on his birthday, he would enter a ladder match to merge the two belts and decide the champion once and for all.... And lose, due to outside interference.

Swerve, two-time champion, would claim the title for a third time and welcome Randy back.

But Randy returned to swear revenge on Sinner and Saint, who cost him his belt.

Since then, Randy has accepted and lost a Loser Leaves 3 on 1 gauntlet due to a ref, by all accounts, PREMATURELY calling the match due to a chokehold by surprise competitor Christopher Daniels. Randy never tapped and wasn't fading. He closed his eyes BRIEFLY and the ref called it. It was complete bullshit and everyone knows it.

HOWEVER... Something has now been set into motion. Fittingly, after Randy promised to see Sinner And Saint "in their nightmares", a spicy spectre from CD's past showed up at a show titled "Your Nightmare," to taunt him after his match, striking a VERY familiar pose in the middle of the ring before exiting.

(He also participated in a battle royale for the Unsanctioned Pacific Northwest Championship at DEFY: Heathens as Curry Man. Didn't win, though.)

The Weirdo Hero WILL return.

join me in being Mentally Unwell about Randy Myers.

#defy wrestling #randy myers #ravenous randy myers #my gifs #btw he made a short film about his battle with depression #its called The Weirdo Hero #i haven't seen it though #wrestling #indie wrestling #aew #all elite wrestling #aew collision