Post by alyadmirer on Jan 10, 2016 20:36:02 GMT
SHEA LONDON:
SOLEDAD SANCHEZ:
For Soledad Sanchez, it had been a lost year. Put in her place one too many times by Cherry Bomb/Lily Burlingame to be considered a top-of-the-line lightweight, the high flyer had worked mostly dark matches, like this one. But not like this one since it was Shea London on the other side of the ring, warming up for some Christmas cheer at Season's Beatings. How much cheer that might entail would be mightily dependent on her performance tonight and so far it had not been lacking. London's 2015 had both highs and lows but the way she'd run Soledad nearly out of the arena tonight, Shea was in the process of proving she has one more BIG high left in her. Sanchez, the baby-faced flyer from south of the border, melts into a corner, most definitely grounded.
Her arms drape over the ropes on either side, exhaustion and pain written all over her sweat-soaked face. Youth might be served at some other point in tonight’s card, but as Shea, in the opposite corner, raising an arm high to get the full force of the FAWNatics behind her, sprints toward the blasted brunette beauty at full speed, it seems obvious tonight’s remarkable London Run would show the legend is still near the top, if not at it.
A blinding dash soon transforms into a dazzling tumbling run, the Sensational One flipping from hands to feet, her soles touching down with explosive force that propels her into a leap the last foot or so of the journey, Shea's back elbow SLAMMING into Soledad's bosom. La Hurrican's legs buckle and falter, sending the petite luchadora to a seat in the corner--just as intended. London practically skips her way to the opposite corner, her fans already buzzing in anticipation, well before the blonde Brit turns and charges back toward her opponent. This time, Shea keeps running until the very end of her jaunt, at which point she leaps into the air, hoping to land in the saddle astride Sanchez's shoulders and bust a burro.
herdmanager1: London leaps from a few feet out, legs extended, and finds the heart of her target, literally. The Brit's pert bum THUMPS into Soledad's chest, rocking the luchadora. But that's only numero uno and Shea grabs the middle ropes on either side to thump-thump-thump her backside into Sanchez time and time again. The FAWNatics count to a full "TEN" before a beaming Shea bounces away from her last blast. Soledad having sunk until only her head head is off the canvas, leaning against the bottom buckle, her big eyes glazed. Soledad ties to push her palms against the canvas to rise, but the effort is fruitless, the Run of the last few minutes and the 'busting' having drained her.
Sanchez might not have been able to rise on her own, but with a helping or two from the Sensational One--plunged into her tresses, specifically--Shea yanks the lovely latina to her feet, only to deposit her flat on her rump just a few feet away from the corner with a hairmare. Soledad utters a small yelp, followed by a louder cry when London 'THWAP's a short, swift kick to her back. Sanchez buttscoots into a tiny left hand turn before slumping to her back, and the British blonde promptly turns HER back on Soledad and grabs the top rope with both hands, one on either side of the turnbuckle. Dropping into a crouch, London VAULTS to the top turnbuckle in a bound that would have made Sanchez and her younger stems quite envious. A little less than a second after landing, the Sensational One takes flight again, launching into a graceful moonsault that should deflate Soledad's sails quite nicely.
A loud pensive 'WHOA' erupts from the crowd as London shows very little if any drop in her ability to perform the sensational acrobatics that made her a star from the very beginning. Their temporary concern London might not be able to manage or that Soledad might be able to counter are unfounded. London soars through the graceful backflip, all eyes and hopes upon her, and CRASHES down across the tummy of the splayed Soledad. The smack of flesh sends a bug-eyed Sanchez jackknifing up and around the destructive Englishwoman. London's moonsault works flawlessly to drive the air from the demolished Mexican like a bellows and the crowd roars its approval when Shea hooks a leg and pulls Sanchez into a tight cradle for ONE...TWO...THRENOOO! There's still some fight left in La Hurrican, likely stemming from what a win against a legend might do to her prospects going forward. But those prospects remain dire despite managing to flop to her side, gasping for breath.
drufan9: "C'mon, ref," Shea sighs in the official's direction, but he holds firm. "TWO!" "At least tell me it was two an' a 'alf..." London challenges. with the tiniest hint of a cheeky grin. The ref shakes his head. "Just TWO!" Not pressing her case further, London climbs to her feet, scooping Soledad off the mat before spinning her foe that Sanchez's back was to her. The blonde Brit steps in, slipping her arms around Soledad's waist as she nuzzles in, preparing to pop her hips and DRIVE Sanchez's head and shoulders into the canvas with a bridging German suplex.
herdmanager1: The dazed luchadora is hauled to vertical and surrounded from behind by London's limbs, Shea tugging her close. Soledad tries to shake off her stupor and manages to pry at Shea's grip with one hand while trying to throw an elbow back with the opposite arm. But the toss of the joint is timed by the Sensational One to give her even more momentum to RIP Soledad off her already unsteady feet. Up and over the tawny, slender Sanchez is sent, backflipping very unlike Shea earlier, landing on her head and shoulders, a bridging Shea keeping her there, stacked on those shoulders, ass pointed to the rafters for ONE...TWO...THREENOO. Again a last second spasm from the stubborn Sanchez lands the lucha on her side, but unmoving; survival instinct keeping her alive for at least another three seconds.
"Alright," London mutters, pushing to her feet and stooping to claim a handful of Soledad's hair. "It was cute tha first time..." Tugging La Hurrican back to verticality, the Sensational One takes hold of Sanchez's wrist and sets her feet, preparing to send the luchadora on her way with an Irish whip... only instead of releasing her foe, Shea gives her arm a sharp tug back toward her, reeling her in as the Brit spins away. Reaching over her shoulder, the blonde's hands again search for Soledad's locks, hoping to claim hold and pull her opponent's jaw over her shoulder as Shea kicks out her legs, London Calling loud and clear.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1OSWSf5Ny4&feature=youtu.be&t=26m17s ).
The initial wicked reversal of direction forced by the FAWN legend seems to nearly separate Sanchez from her remaining senses, Soledad's head buggywhipping from London's tug. But when Shea corrals the noggin of La Hurrican with an over-the-shoulder grip, cementing Soledad's chin to that left trapezius and drops to her derriere, there is NO doubt. Lodon's Call goes through without a hint of static. Soledad's head snaps up from the jarring impact, putting what's left of the Mexican on her knees for a moment. But it's only for a split second and Sanchez fades backwards, her thighs collapsing atop her calves, Soledad's eyes rolling white, shoulders on the canvas with her legs folded beneath her, the crowd going nuts for the Sensational One.
London rolls over on her hip, throwing herself across the chest as the former La Hurrican--and now tropical depression, at best. As Shea reaches an arm for Soledad's left leg, the blonde Brit threads a gam around Sanchez's right stem, the Sensational One apparently not about to allow the lucha an easy opportunity to kick her way free as the referee slides into position... for ONE...TWO...THREE!
The crowd chants along with the slaps and keeps going to FOUR and FIVE before a sheepish Shea realizes she better rise off the demolished Soledad before the FAWNatics count their way to 'TEN'. She'd just made Sanchez look like she deserved to be opening cards in The Jungle and didn't need a post-match display to heap on her. Though, as she stands, the need to put a cherry on top does enter her mind.
Climbing to her feet, Shea settles into a standing straddle of the vanquished Sanchez, bending forward just enough to allow her to meet Soledad eye to (hald-lidded) eye. "La 'Urrican, 'uh? I've dealt with bigger an' badder storm clouds than ya tryin' ta put a damper on a 'oliday in Blackpool. But if ya ever wanna take another shot at showin' just 'ow big an' bad ya think ya are, I won't be 'ard to find." Looking up, the Sensational One plants a boot atop Soledad's heaving bosom, then motions her hands across her waist, illustrating an imaginary title belt. And, lest anyone not be sure of WHICH title belt she had in mind, London follows up by raising her right hand... with four fingers extended. A challenge laid without a single word, the FAWNatics ERUPT at the prospect. The only thing left to be seen would be whether or not Portia would have the courage to accept it.
SOLEDAD SANCHEZ:
For Soledad Sanchez, it had been a lost year. Put in her place one too many times by Cherry Bomb/Lily Burlingame to be considered a top-of-the-line lightweight, the high flyer had worked mostly dark matches, like this one. But not like this one since it was Shea London on the other side of the ring, warming up for some Christmas cheer at Season's Beatings. How much cheer that might entail would be mightily dependent on her performance tonight and so far it had not been lacking. London's 2015 had both highs and lows but the way she'd run Soledad nearly out of the arena tonight, Shea was in the process of proving she has one more BIG high left in her. Sanchez, the baby-faced flyer from south of the border, melts into a corner, most definitely grounded.
Her arms drape over the ropes on either side, exhaustion and pain written all over her sweat-soaked face. Youth might be served at some other point in tonight’s card, but as Shea, in the opposite corner, raising an arm high to get the full force of the FAWNatics behind her, sprints toward the blasted brunette beauty at full speed, it seems obvious tonight’s remarkable London Run would show the legend is still near the top, if not at it.
A blinding dash soon transforms into a dazzling tumbling run, the Sensational One flipping from hands to feet, her soles touching down with explosive force that propels her into a leap the last foot or so of the journey, Shea's back elbow SLAMMING into Soledad's bosom. La Hurrican's legs buckle and falter, sending the petite luchadora to a seat in the corner--just as intended. London practically skips her way to the opposite corner, her fans already buzzing in anticipation, well before the blonde Brit turns and charges back toward her opponent. This time, Shea keeps running until the very end of her jaunt, at which point she leaps into the air, hoping to land in the saddle astride Sanchez's shoulders and bust a burro.
herdmanager1: London leaps from a few feet out, legs extended, and finds the heart of her target, literally. The Brit's pert bum THUMPS into Soledad's chest, rocking the luchadora. But that's only numero uno and Shea grabs the middle ropes on either side to thump-thump-thump her backside into Sanchez time and time again. The FAWNatics count to a full "TEN" before a beaming Shea bounces away from her last blast. Soledad having sunk until only her head head is off the canvas, leaning against the bottom buckle, her big eyes glazed. Soledad ties to push her palms against the canvas to rise, but the effort is fruitless, the Run of the last few minutes and the 'busting' having drained her.
Sanchez might not have been able to rise on her own, but with a helping or two from the Sensational One--plunged into her tresses, specifically--Shea yanks the lovely latina to her feet, only to deposit her flat on her rump just a few feet away from the corner with a hairmare. Soledad utters a small yelp, followed by a louder cry when London 'THWAP's a short, swift kick to her back. Sanchez buttscoots into a tiny left hand turn before slumping to her back, and the British blonde promptly turns HER back on Soledad and grabs the top rope with both hands, one on either side of the turnbuckle. Dropping into a crouch, London VAULTS to the top turnbuckle in a bound that would have made Sanchez and her younger stems quite envious. A little less than a second after landing, the Sensational One takes flight again, launching into a graceful moonsault that should deflate Soledad's sails quite nicely.
A loud pensive 'WHOA' erupts from the crowd as London shows very little if any drop in her ability to perform the sensational acrobatics that made her a star from the very beginning. Their temporary concern London might not be able to manage or that Soledad might be able to counter are unfounded. London soars through the graceful backflip, all eyes and hopes upon her, and CRASHES down across the tummy of the splayed Soledad. The smack of flesh sends a bug-eyed Sanchez jackknifing up and around the destructive Englishwoman. London's moonsault works flawlessly to drive the air from the demolished Mexican like a bellows and the crowd roars its approval when Shea hooks a leg and pulls Sanchez into a tight cradle for ONE...TWO...THRENOOO! There's still some fight left in La Hurrican, likely stemming from what a win against a legend might do to her prospects going forward. But those prospects remain dire despite managing to flop to her side, gasping for breath.
drufan9: "C'mon, ref," Shea sighs in the official's direction, but he holds firm. "TWO!" "At least tell me it was two an' a 'alf..." London challenges. with the tiniest hint of a cheeky grin. The ref shakes his head. "Just TWO!" Not pressing her case further, London climbs to her feet, scooping Soledad off the mat before spinning her foe that Sanchez's back was to her. The blonde Brit steps in, slipping her arms around Soledad's waist as she nuzzles in, preparing to pop her hips and DRIVE Sanchez's head and shoulders into the canvas with a bridging German suplex.
herdmanager1: The dazed luchadora is hauled to vertical and surrounded from behind by London's limbs, Shea tugging her close. Soledad tries to shake off her stupor and manages to pry at Shea's grip with one hand while trying to throw an elbow back with the opposite arm. But the toss of the joint is timed by the Sensational One to give her even more momentum to RIP Soledad off her already unsteady feet. Up and over the tawny, slender Sanchez is sent, backflipping very unlike Shea earlier, landing on her head and shoulders, a bridging Shea keeping her there, stacked on those shoulders, ass pointed to the rafters for ONE...TWO...THREENOO. Again a last second spasm from the stubborn Sanchez lands the lucha on her side, but unmoving; survival instinct keeping her alive for at least another three seconds.
"Alright," London mutters, pushing to her feet and stooping to claim a handful of Soledad's hair. "It was cute tha first time..." Tugging La Hurrican back to verticality, the Sensational One takes hold of Sanchez's wrist and sets her feet, preparing to send the luchadora on her way with an Irish whip... only instead of releasing her foe, Shea gives her arm a sharp tug back toward her, reeling her in as the Brit spins away. Reaching over her shoulder, the blonde's hands again search for Soledad's locks, hoping to claim hold and pull her opponent's jaw over her shoulder as Shea kicks out her legs, London Calling loud and clear.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1OSWSf5Ny4&feature=youtu.be&t=26m17s ).
The initial wicked reversal of direction forced by the FAWN legend seems to nearly separate Sanchez from her remaining senses, Soledad's head buggywhipping from London's tug. But when Shea corrals the noggin of La Hurrican with an over-the-shoulder grip, cementing Soledad's chin to that left trapezius and drops to her derriere, there is NO doubt. Lodon's Call goes through without a hint of static. Soledad's head snaps up from the jarring impact, putting what's left of the Mexican on her knees for a moment. But it's only for a split second and Sanchez fades backwards, her thighs collapsing atop her calves, Soledad's eyes rolling white, shoulders on the canvas with her legs folded beneath her, the crowd going nuts for the Sensational One.
London rolls over on her hip, throwing herself across the chest as the former La Hurrican--and now tropical depression, at best. As Shea reaches an arm for Soledad's left leg, the blonde Brit threads a gam around Sanchez's right stem, the Sensational One apparently not about to allow the lucha an easy opportunity to kick her way free as the referee slides into position... for ONE...TWO...THREE!
The crowd chants along with the slaps and keeps going to FOUR and FIVE before a sheepish Shea realizes she better rise off the demolished Soledad before the FAWNatics count their way to 'TEN'. She'd just made Sanchez look like she deserved to be opening cards in The Jungle and didn't need a post-match display to heap on her. Though, as she stands, the need to put a cherry on top does enter her mind.
Climbing to her feet, Shea settles into a standing straddle of the vanquished Sanchez, bending forward just enough to allow her to meet Soledad eye to (hald-lidded) eye. "La 'Urrican, 'uh? I've dealt with bigger an' badder storm clouds than ya tryin' ta put a damper on a 'oliday in Blackpool. But if ya ever wanna take another shot at showin' just 'ow big an' bad ya think ya are, I won't be 'ard to find." Looking up, the Sensational One plants a boot atop Soledad's heaving bosom, then motions her hands across her waist, illustrating an imaginary title belt. And, lest anyone not be sure of WHICH title belt she had in mind, London follows up by raising her right hand... with four fingers extended. A challenge laid without a single word, the FAWNatics ERUPT at the prospect. The only thing left to be seen would be whether or not Portia would have the courage to accept it.
