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Jonathan last won the day on April 15

Jonathan had the most liked content!


About Jonathan

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  • Birthday September 24

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  1. QB Tiers (got bored, made the list) Tier 1 (Best Of The Best) Mahomes Brees Brady Wilson Rodgers Tier 2 (Elite) Luck Ryan Newton Rivers Tier 3 (Upper Echelon Youngsters) Mayfield Watson Wentz Goff Tier 4 (Above Average: toughest tier imo) Big Ben Stafford Dak Jimmy G Cousins Mariota Tier 5 (Replacement Level) Winston Alex Smith Darnold Trubisky Jackson Carr Mullens Dalton Fitzpatrick Brisett Bridgewater Taylor Tier 6 (Need Development) Allen Murray Haskins Rosen Lock Jones Tier 7 (Below Average) Foles Flacco Keemun Tannehill Tier 8 (Utter Gutter Trash) Manning Beathard Petermeme Driskel
  2. happy 5 years legend

    1. Jonathan


      I really made it to 5 years, what the fuck is wrong with me. Thanks to y’all for being a fun community to be apart of for the past years, here’s to 5 more, semi active, part timing years

  3. Name: Johnny Kills Theme: “Rockstar” Lil Migo Gimmick: Undisputed Signature 1: Package Piledriver Signature 2: Claymore Finisher 1: TALITE (Ripcord Bicycle Knee) Finisher 2: Death Wish (Black Mass/German Combo) Graphic Representative: Aleister Black Extra: Several year pro, fairly acclaimed career across Japan, Britain, and Europe
  4. Imma fuck y’all up
  5. Jonathan


    “Cold Shoulder” blares through the arena, stopping the decree from Flynn and effectively pissing him off as Jonathan slowly saunters out to the stage, putting the fans on edge with his return from hiatus. He emerges at the top of the stage, mouth hanging slightly open, staring down Flynn with no discernible amount of focus. He’s seemingly in a daze, without the calculated menace he’s infamous for. He continues down the ramp, pausing frequently at an incredibly slow pace. He ends his march at the apron, gazing up at the Universal Champion as he puts his microphone to his mouth, still hanging ajar. “A fall from grace isn’t it Flynn. You aren’t far removed captivating encounters with your former best friend, headlining show after show. The audience fed out of your hands, enveloped in every story you created, hanging on every word you said. Now you work with talent that you believe is so far below you, undeserving of mention in the same breath as your name. You come out here, telling this people to believe what you say, just like they used to. You vie for their acceptance, and decide to besmirch my dear Sheridan to gain it, a bit desperate don’t you think.” Jonathan mounts the apron, running his hand through his tangled hair as he looks around the arena, before bringing his eyes to back to Flynn. “Perhaps you are still trying to prove that you’re the most dominant man in this company, with more and more people coming to breathe down your neck and wrestle the crown away from you, you want to know that you’re good enough still to reign as king.” Jonathan enters the ring, pausing as his right leg rests on the apron before pulling it through and stopping mere inches from the the current Universal Champion. He breaks the eye contact, only serving to irritate Flynn further as he brings the microphone back to his lips. “Am I worthy to face you? A competitor to make you feel like the superstar you are? One to be cautious against, one who can actually take everything from you? How about I try to snatch that crown from your scalp, your highness?” Jonathan does a faux bow, with a smirk dancing onto his lips as he steps back, shrugging his shoulders after the proposition, as he rests on the ropes, awaiting a response.
  6. Book One | Chapter One: The Transfer Portal My jaw dropped when I saw the news. Perhaps it was the morning fatigue inducing even more shock. I think it was the fact that what happened was legitimately insane. Fifteen high profile players had just transferred into The National Circuit. The National Circuit was an assembly of the thirty best basketball high schools thrown together in a league, not bound by regions but sprawled out throughout the year. Schools came from the powerhouse states, the usual California, Texas, Georgia, as well as the DMV. If there were 150 starters in the league, all of them were in the top 400 at the very least. The competition was extremely stiff. Brendendale managed to become recognized as one of these thirty when Moses Brown carried us through regionals and got us the title of best school in New York. Now it was on us to not completely embarrass ourselves as the only New York team in the Circuit. I could understand why some of the nations best wanted to get into the Circuit, their scholarships weren’t going anywhere and the Circuit was a better showcase then AAU. Multiple TV deals had already been inked, recruiters would be all over this. They wanted the same attention that I needed, it added further fuel to the media frenzy. We came out with two of those transfers, adding Jafari Asha and Aidan Igiehon to our front court besides Derrick Iverson. They were good players, Derrick could do anything on a basketball court, a High School Draymond, and wouldn’t clash with with the 7’7 behemoth, Jafari. I didn’t know much about Jafari, he was supposedly seventeen but his birth certificate was lost somewhere overseas. There was also no tape whatsoever on him, but hopefully he knew how to be tall. Aidan on the other head was a complete behemoth, “The Irish Hulk” was a rim wrecker and completely deserving of his five star ranking. Having any combination of the three big men would be more than sufficient. Our team was rounding out nicely, a backcourt of George Kaneko, a lights out shooter and capable playmaker, and Davey McDaniels, a Swiss Army knife that provides a retro point guard feel though not tremendous at anything. Besides them were another sniper in Angelo and a lockdown, bouncy Jay “White Men Can Jump” Sellers, molded in the fashion of Jaylen Brown. Next to the three bigs, was me, “The Promised King” and “Cowboy” Jesse Paul. The pressure to perform for me was coming externally through the sheer amounts of talent I was set to face, oh and of course, who could forget the coach’s kid, Brenden Playz Jr, trying to pry away every millisecond of playing time I had and make it his. He was talented, Uber athletic with competent technical skill. The team would all but be handed to him, it was just a matter of whether it’d be at my expense. There were a lot of other big transfers of four star plus talent going to new high schools, all listed below. Chandler Lawson - Norcross Jalen Johnson - Link Year Matthew Hurt - Minnehaha Trendon Watford - McEachern Joshua Christopher - Huntington Prep Julian Strawther - Findley Prep Johnny Juzang - Sunrise Christian Isaiah Todd - Paul VI Catholic Tyler Gill - Paul VI Catholic Bronny James - Sierra Canyon Zaire Wade - Sierra Canyon Epic Dalton - Norcross Bart “Buckets” Van Horn - Duncanville This was the last thing I expected, a dramatic change like this only meant that this season would be even more difficult, having to compete with a new superteam in Sierra Canyon, with four sons of NBA All-Stars and Cassius Stanley leading them; Montverde and Kobe Bryant’s son, Sameer; the reigning National Champs, IMG Academy; Lamelo Ball, Rocket Watts, and now, “The Inch Worm” H.R. Putney at SPIRE; and even more five stars across the country. The banging on my bedroom door jolted me out of my thoughts. I placed my phone back on my nightstand and rolled out of bed. I quickly walked to my door and swung it open, seeing my dad in no mood to be late. “Hurry up and get ready, we have more work to do,” he said. He turned and walked away as I pulled the door back closed. I rummaged through my dresser, pulling out a two pairs of basketball shorts and two shirts. I dropped a pair of shorts and a shirt in my basketball bag, throwing on the others. I went to my closet next, taking a pair of school pants and a dress shirt, accompanied by a tie. I neatly folded the uniform and put it in the bag. I went back to the closet, pulling a pair of pink Kobe Xs and loafers, I dropped the loafers in the bag, then closed it and grabbed it, along with my school backpack as I left my room. I strolled down the hall dropping the bags as I stepped into the bathroom. I ran through the regular routine and exited, clambering down the stairs of the two story house to the living space. I threw my bags to the door and entered the kitchen, making myself a couple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and wolfing them down before my father came down the stairs, indicating it was go time. We left the house and packed into our cherry red Toyota Avalon and were on our way. I plugged in my earphones, bumping to A$AP Rocky while we cruised through the deserted streets. We arrived at the Brendendale campus after forty minutes and headed to the gymnasium, my dad unlocked the gym doors and we headed to the basketball court. There were two hours until school began. For the first hour, we worked strictly on the court, me repeating the same shots over and over until I could hit it fifteen times in a row before continuing. It was constant pull-up middys, threes, and dribbles into layups, having to drill down a couple of combos. Then we got into the static shooting, hitting threes from everywhere, and ending at the edge of the logo. We ended in the post, working on the best post fadeaway from any High School in the world. The first portion of the workout was over, some other teammates filtered in. I saw Derrick, Davey, Angelo and of course, Brenden with dear old dad by his side. We brushed shoulders as I exited, prompting an exchange of dirty looks. I headed out, going to the weight room. I took a fifteen minute break to recover, trying not to further aggravate my beat up limbs. It was followed a short cardio session for thirty minutes before I had to hit the showers. I was on my way when I heard a sharp yell, I turned towards the basketball court, where BPZ Jr was laying in a heap, grabbing at his ankle.
  7. 8.2 to 3.9, God I’m good
  8. Prologue I stared past the hoop as I always did, ending my gaze just below the back iron and setting a target for my shot. I took a breath, my fist rested on my hip and the ball was nestled into the crevice left by my bent arm. Everything came to a stop for a moment as I grabbed the ball and straightened my arm, bringing my left hand to the ball as well. I flicked the ball in front of me, spinning so that it’d come back to me. In the moments before it did, I wiped my hands on the front of my jersey, leaving the sweat smeared across Brendendale. I caught the call as it bounced back to me. I took another breath. I bent my knees slightly, then pounded the ball into the court, once, then twice, and bent my knees even more. I lifted my eyes, then shot like I was did, left elbow tucked, right arm straight, raise the ball over my right eye, shoot up into the sky, and flick the wrist. The ball fell threw, seamlessly. I would’ve been disappointed at any other result. I walked from the free throw line to the baseline where the rest of the team swarmed me, overjoyed that they wouldn’t have to run another suicide, doing their usual ‘hail the King’ shtick. I cracked a small smile and allowed myself to remain in the moment for a while. Coach Playz joined the group and broke us down, ending the practice. I said my goodbyes to the rest of the guys and took a moment to catch my breath and let the rest of the team funnel out to the showers. We had South Garland in two weeks, and I promised myself I’d make a showing fit for a king. So I grabbed the ball, tucked it under my elbow, and marched back to the free throw line. Then I stared past the hoop as I always did.
  9. Coming Soon To A Forum Near You Name: Year (Sophomore - Senior) :  Height: Weight: Looks: Archetype (or Player Model) :  Position:
  10. Jonathan


    We’re jerked away from the Carnage action as the titantron abruptly cuts to black. We navigate through wings of a home, assuredly the lavish palace of Royal Flush. As the cameraman maneuvers through a seemingly mile long wing of the house, the destination is seemingly met. It isn’t one of the bedroom doors of Sheridan or Jonathan, instead, the cameraman twists the doorknob and swings the door open, revealing a spacious field unraveled in front of us. The cameraman steps out the corridor and through the doorway, panning the camera to show the brightly lit garden of the Royal Flush Manor. He continues through, finding two vignetted figures amongst the meadow, as he approaches, he finds Jonathan and Sheridan... bickering. Jonathan is dressed in a slim navy suit, looking all business and drastically opposing Sheridan, who is cosplaying Jesse of Team Rocket. As the camera approaches, the words begin to be transmitted. Sheridan: “You said that you would dress as James and we would be Team Rocket!” Jonathan: “I told you that it was a horrific idea and I refuse to dress up as Pokémon’s perpetual losers.” Sheridan: “I recall you explicitly saying, ‘sure Sher, whatever you want’!” Jonathan: “Because you wouldn’t shut up about how cute it would be if we did it, think about the message we’re sending by dressing as losers before our chance of redemption!” The bickering stops for a moment, and Jonathan turns his head to see the camera. With a sigh, he puts his head in his hands and turns to face the cameraman, also alerting Sheridan to the cameras presence. Jonathan lifts his head, jutting his chin out and puffing his chest as he adjusts the suit, pulling down the sleeves and toying with the buttons. Sheridan narrows her Cerulean eyes, pursing her lips as she stands besides Jonathan, who starts to speak. “A show of unity. That’s what caused this comedic miscommunication. It was an attempt to show that Royal Flush remains on the same page regardless of the result of the encounter two weeks ago, that our momentum will not be undercut by one failure. I suppose that the message failed to come across as fully intended due to this situation, how could a group bickering over small details amongst themselves defeat the powerhouse of this company’s owner who’s on the warpath and Mr. Money in the Bank?” “I’d invite you to read into this situation as much you want, say that the pair of us are off kilter, no longer matching strides and doing anything to show our willingness to defeat the both of you. Brenden, Sameer, there’s no wardrobe malfunction, no illness, nothing in this world that could tear the focus to Royal Flush away from the titles fastened around your waist. Our singular focus is more binding than any thoughts on Team Rocket, were formed to take away those titles you hold so close. Our mission statement hasn’t been altered whatsoever.” Sheridan and Jonathan interlock hands, a smile creeps onto the face of Jonathan and spreads to Sheridan, Jonathan runs his free hand through his hair and speaks once more. “Underestimate our drive, underestimate our insatiable desire to become our tag team champions. And it’ll be the Big Ballers blasting off again.”
  11. Jonathan


    We’re brought once more to Royal Manor, hours after Sheridan delivered her promo in bed. The cameraman stands, lens pointed at the door of Sheridan’s bedroom. There’s a murmur emanating from the room, though the voices are to hushed to understand. The whispers cease and the door is swung open, Jonathan enrages through the doorway. He pauses at the sight of the camera, narrowing his eyes as he turns his head back towards Sheridan, muttering something before slamming the door close. Jonathan looks towards the camera again. “I guess this is happening now.” Jonathan leads the camera to his own bedroom, the darkroom is arranged neatly, nothing out of place except the bedspread. Jonathan rushes out of sight of the camera, approaching a white board that he wipes clean. He comes back towards the camera, pointing to the front of his bed. Jonathan takes a seat, folding his hands and dropping his head. We see Jonathan for the first time since his tragic night at Mayhem, where he failed to claim the tag titles and defeat Julius in the Power Trip Cup. As he lifts his head, disillusion is paramount in his eyes, you can see the aura of disappointment surrounding him; a lack of that killer focus he’s adopted in past weeks. He massages his ring finger, twisting his Hall of Fame ring back and forth before his lips curl into a smirk. “You almost believed it. That I was the same weak Jonathan from before, that one bad night would drive me completely off the trail. Is this what you wanted, a depressed Ace, one who doesn’t think that he has it anymore. You think that I have one foot in the door and one loss will make me pull it across. No, that won’t suffice.” “Big Ballers escaped. That’s the fact at hand, there’s no more explanation needed. They were pushed to their absolute upper limit and almost shattered, but there was salvation. Sloppiness, emotion, inattentiveness, not enough focus. Sheridan and I allowed ourselves to become to immersed in the narrative they crafted, we failed to see that this was just the first of many conquests pertaining to the title we would hold after the match. They were so wounded, and we failed to capitalize.” Jonathan rises, striding to the curtained window, he pulls the curtains aside, looking out to the expanse in front of him, a bay in the distance, past the rolling meadows kissed with every bright shade and hue imaginable. He placed his hands behind his back as he looks to the cameraman, the animalistic stare once more captured by his pupils, the focus he was seemingly lacking restored in a matter of instants. He lowers his voice, to a cutting whisper as he speaks again. “There’s no escape the next time we meet. There will be nothing but relentlessness, no survivors from this battle. The thirst of the Royal Flush will not be quenched until the leather of those belts are fastened around our waists. There’ll be nothing left for Big Ballers... but a scorched earth.”
  12. The camera focuses on Josh Trenton, shooting over the shoulder of the subject of this interview, “The Ace” Jonathan Kerse. Josh welcomes us to another exclusive BPZ Interview with the man slotted to face off against the Intercontinental Champion, Julius, in the Power Trip Cup Semifinals as well as take on the Tag Team Champions, The Big Ballers, alongside Royal Flush partner, Sheridan. The camera cuts to a relaxed Jonathan, who thanks Josh with a gracious smile, extending courtesy before the interview officially gets underway. Trenton poses the first question. Josh Trenton: You’ve noted a fair amount of history between you and Julius set to culminate in this match, and this match is as personal as any match you’ve ever participated in. How has preparation for your match against Julius been different than any other match? “I’ve never gone into a match expecting to fail, I train every time to win plain and simple and allow myself to get into the cliched “Kill Mode”. I’ve pushed past that, the unique motivation I’ve been presented with has forced me to work more, wanting to not just be satisfied with victory, but continue to be a dominant force, I’m here to exact vengeance, just winning won’t be enough. I’m as focused as possible, I know what I have to do tonight.” Josh Trenton: With other matches in mind, how do you plan to participate in two matches this evening, with your impending tag title match? “Luckily for me, I’ve been gifted the most capable partner I could ever desire, I know that I can lean on her when it comes to this tag match, but I won’t hesitate to put everything on the line to realize the dreams that the two of us share. Brenden and Sameer are capable, but I know that the pairing of Sheridan and myself are more than willing and able to take the titles they have around their waist.” Jonathan finishes with a smile, reassured in his words. He leans back in his chair, getting comfortable as the interview continues, Josh looking through his journal before finding another question to ask. Josh Trenton: This confidence you exude, it’s a far cry from the heroic Jonathan that you were formerly. How has this new attitude affected your resurgence? “It’s allowed me to recognize exactly how good I am. I desired recognition from everybody I shared air with. I allowed other people to influence what I believed I could accomplish. It was an idiotic mindset, I rectified it. I’m the one of the best person to step into this company and don’t give a damn whether people feel like agreeing to that statement.” A pause ensues after the answer, Jonathan still remaining the almost arrogant superstar he’s began to portray himself as, him and Trenton lock eyes, one can almost see the wheels turning for the renowned interviewer, the pause breaks as Trenton asks his next question. Josh Trenton: What does this match mean to you? “It’d be an exaggeration to say everything, this match is more desired than almost any other matchup, it’s something I have to do to continue. I can’t keep my self destructing on repeat, I have to beat him.” Josh Trenton: So what happens if you don’t? Jonathan neglects to speak, keep his gaze on Trenton after the question. He finally drops his eyes, allowing more time to pass before he defiantly lifts his head. “Next question.” He says nothing further, leaving Trenton perplexed. He continues forth, breaking eye contact with a belligerent Jonathan to flip through his journal of prepared questions, he looks up, ready to speak when Jonathan stops him, looking down as he starts speaking again. “You want yo know what happens if I lose? I didn’t plan for that. Can’t be anything good, what positive spin could there be for failing to redeem myself? There’s no option but victory for me, it has to be impossible for me. Julius is one of the most dangerous men in this industry and if I even had an inkling of a fall back plan it’d be all she wrote. I won’t be content to claim some sort of moral victory, to resign myself to a lesser competitor, I’ve said it every week, I’m here to win.” “I need to know that this is everything here, that the approach I’ve taken got me here and failing to make good on this opportunity would be tragic. I need to know that I have to do as promised, I have to rip his heart out. I have to avenge myself, and if I can’t do that...” Jonathan trails off, his uplifted head eventuated by the fire blazing in his pupils. The frenzy “The Ace” is in is rather apparent, fail now and the road ahead becomes bleak. He doesn’t seem to be shying away from his fate, his chin protruding, prepared for a battle ahead, it’s all or nothing now.
  13. We’re placed in the screen room of the Royal Flush manor, all lights dimmed, but enough remain to cast light on the brooding Jonathan, piercing eyes placed on the camera as he begins to speak. “Your omission was an interesting one Julius. Well-intentioned as though you wanted to keep the proceedings respectful. I think it was something else.” Without warning, the projector springs to life, shining past the lens of the camera to the screen. The camera sweeps around to capture the image being displayed in the room. Jonathan and Julius come into the picture, nose to nose as they look to find the new BPZ Champion. The result of the clash of the Titans has been well documented, the camera pans back to Jonathan, whose fists continue to clench tighter and tighter until the red of the knuckles turns to white. His eyes are glued on the motion picture, watching the back and forth that ensued in the early moments of the match. He finally pries his eyes from the contest, looking back at the camera as he begins to speak once again. “You feel it too don’t you? Each goosebumps ticking upwards on your arm, leaving you shivering in awe when you watch this match. The unadulterated emotion it leaves you with. You get that same, unparalleled feeling of pure adrenaline as you revisit the match. You become more and more aware of your beating heart until all you can hear is the rhythmic clanging against your rib cage. But then it settles, you get the feeling of comfort, knowing what you did and what you’re capable of doing, it reassures you, lulling your adrenal gland and restoring your “Death Machine” disposition.” “I can feel it too, each uptick on my forearm as I revisit the match. I could recount it without the video aid, but I force myself to witness the self-destruction, knowing what it can accomplish. Julius, I live in this moment each and every waking second. Seeing the insufficiency of everything I did to get myself to that moment, understanding that I wasn’t the same man I used to be, it presents me with a choice. To accept this reality and whimper to a halt, leaving without a fight but retaining the memory relatively unblemished by losses to the leaders of this industry, or I can press on, trying to redeem something deep inside of me.” “That thing, I can’t name it. It pushes me forward in every moment, regardless of whether or not I desire that. It creates restlessness within, every thought goes back to the men who were responsible for my downfall. I’m unable to resist this Julius, and right now, it’s telling me that the next step in my path to Redemption is repaying the deed down here Julius.” Jonathan pauses, refocusing on the matchup set to be revisited in days time. Anguish is spilled on his face, his jaw clenching tighter as every vein present in his forehead is unveiled. The camera turns to see Julius gaining control of the match, slowing the match to use his noticeable size advantage more efficiently. As the camera reverts, Jonathan rises from his seat, approaching the camera as he begins to take more noticeable breaths, pausing to collect himself before a smirk spreads across his lips. “I orchestrated as much as I could, I defeated Echo and dispatched of FD, I began a conquest of another division with Sheridan by myself to put the unsettling demons to rest but they remain. There’s no escape now, all roads lead through June 2nd, where our paths cross once again. It won’t be like before, it won’t be solely in the desire of a gilded belt to wear around my waist, this means far than any championship can satisfy alone.” “One reality remains, one man continues on through this tournament, losses avenged with path leading to everything that’s being fought for. One man crowned victor and the other trying to rationalize the events that have occurred, and this is the truth Julius, that when I beat you it won’t be due to some “Ace in the Hole”. It’ll simply be due to the Ace standing over you.”
  14. “You wanted me campaigning isnt that right Brenden, in the middle of this square addressing you and Sameer, and only the two of you. I’m granting your request, my solely on you two, no mentions of any other pursuit shall arise tonight, I have enough to say about the Big Ballers.” “Bemusing is a word that comes to mind instantly when I consider exactly what it is that these men try to preach. It’s so incredibly egotistical, yet they’re adored, so uncompromisingly self-centered, each and every narrative supposedly crafted around them. The world, in their view, is out to get them. Brenden, Sameer, it’s with all so respect that I admit that your names mean nothing to me. It’s not about you, we just want what’s fastened around your waist.” “This isn’t the BPZ of old, where everything revolved around what The Authority did, where the changing of the guard only came when somebody could dethrone Brenden and company, this isn’t the world you created. But I didn’t have to tell you that did I? Perhaps it’s simple coincidence that you take months off after being pushed to the brink by this new generation who concern themselves less and less with the weight your name carries, but view you as just more competitors trying to stop them. You can feel it in every strike, every slam, the Ruthless Aggression coursing through every person that takes the ring with you. They just want what you have, and you’re the only people preventing that. No longer the unstoppable forces capable of being BPZ to their knees, you’re just another tag team, holding onto the world you knew for dear life.” Jonathan smiles up at Sheridan, the two intensely locking eyes as Jonathan tugs the microphone out of her grasp, moving towards the entrance ramp, directing his next words to the back, wherever the Big Ballers could be coupes up. “The two of you come out here, perform the charade that nothing has changed, that you’re the same two men from this company’s infancy. Your half hearted battle cries won’t save you, your promises to endure and endure like it’s a Rocky movie will be unable to rescue you from the situation you’re in. Perhaps it is a Rocky, perhaps it’s Rocky 4 and Drago is comprised to two of us in the ring. How confident are you that you’re Mr. Balboa, because it’s be quite the shame if there was nobody there to throw the towel in for you.” Jonathan allows the microphone to fall to the mat, retreating back to the corner with Sheridan, clearly satisfied with the message the Royal Flush delivered.

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