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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Anarchy Boards » Anarchy RP Board
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Inspiration
Author Message
Lacklan Offline
World's best at making murderhobos cry



XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

(booed by casual fans; opportunistic; often plays dirty while setting the trends)


#1
05-08-2019, 05:10 PM

The beast’s red eyes burn in the night as it stares down at the dark shape of a body on the bed next to it. Visible through shredded bits of clothing, the body’s caramels skin glows with sweat, the sweet scent a mixture of exhilaration, fear, and joy, and the beast purrs loudly in its throat. It places its hand, brightly pale in the dark, atop the rump of the body and pats it, lithe fingers caressing the curves. The red eyes soak in the contrast of caramel flesh and pale white fingers, and the guttural purr grows.

“...love my baby…”

The head of the body, covered in a wild array of dark braids that cover the bed and fall off the edge to the floor, raises up and gives voice in the dark, tired and winded, before plopping back down with a bounce of the mattress. Again the beast purrs, the sound as much a growl of conquest as that of affection, and the pale hand squeezes tight for a moment, enjoying the feel of the flesh. The beast then turns from its lover, spinning on the bed to bring itself to the edge and plant pale feet upon the cold hardwood floor. Hands reach to the end table to find glasses, the frames red and the lenses thick, before placing them upon its face. Now able to see further than its own hand, the beast pushes itself off the bed and stumbles towards a desk and chair, its legs wobbly, its muscles sore. The beast purrs again, its mind drawing back over the evening, replaying the activity that caused such soreness in its legs.

The beast plops down into the chair and turns on a small lamp, a soft lavender light bathing it and making its pale skin look luminescent. The beast wears little, nothing more than a shift for the coming evening of rest, and the soft purple light shows small but strong muscles on its arms and in its shoulders. Its face is tired, weary from its work, shining with as much glow as the body on its bed. Pink lips perse in thought for a moment, then the beast reaches over and pulls a pad of strong paper, an inkwell, and a pen tipped in a long black feather. Placing the paper before it, the beast dips the pen’s edge into the ink, places the edge to the paper, and begins to fill the page with a flowing script written with a fine hand in ink that matches its eyes.

[Image: 2XUH9eX.gif]


It’s been an interesting couple of weeks. I have gone back and forth about how to approach this match with you, about how to engage in that special brand of promotional revelry that only I can produce. Initially, I was inspired by my best friend Angelica. She was doing a reading of her upcoming children’s novel, a still-untitled story about princesses and usurper queens, to the children of the Path of the Light Church, and it reminded me of when I wrote a story for an opponent. I could do much the same for you, I reckoned, and weave a tale of Princess Twilight Sparkle ridding the world of the Evil Trash Panda.

I was inspired by my OTHER best friend Roxy, while watching her do one of her cam shows. She has a special coming up, a documentary produced by my Beloved and myself, all about the growth and success of her cam show and the club she and Vinnie own. And as she moved about, her luscious curves hinting to fanboys at home what they might dream of for the low, low price of some CLINK! CLINK! CLINK!, it made me think that one of my vlogs would be appropriate. Perhaps dissect you and your house, much in the way I did for the likes of the Blackwater Clan. Show the world the folly of you having a “partner” in Ackles who mocks people for their weight, demands that she be their hero instead of aspire to be, and more.

I was inspired by my Beloved most, though, as she continues to be the hardest-working person I know. A plethora of styles and scenarios, destroying opponents through interviews, media appearances, blogs, in-ring promos, backstage attacks, and more. She has been hard lately, and has seen many fruits for her labors, so perhaps I could do the same. Mock you for two weeks. Get under your skin the way I have with the Kudas and Noahs of the world. Defeat you before we even step in the ring. So I suppose that, given how well my wife has done lately with embracing the name I gave her, I should do the same.

No stories for you. No jests. No humor. No 27-panel comics mocking your day job of pulling kittens from trees. No joyful recounting of that little lockeroom hazing with Roxy. Just truth, as hard and painful as it can be.

I once knew a girl who fashioned herself a superhero. “Superman’s Favorite Citizen,” she would call herself. My House...my family...we warned her. Delusional children playing make believe as they fly through the air would undoubtedly fall and hurt themselves. And when Stacy Sterling fell, it was with a crash so powerful that it forever broke her wings.

The same awaits you.

I care not for your dreams of a fair world. I care not for your hopes of justice or subjectable fairness. I only care about being the dominant force in this company, one who will march into War Games with a 7-0 record, the Federweight Champion and Queen of Anarchy. You wish to be a hero? You wish to fight for the unfortunate and downtrodden?

So be it.

I’ll be your villain.

I’ll be your Thanos.

Ya know, it occurs to me that you and I have never formally been introduced. Allow me this moment to fix that:

My name is Grey-Lacklan.

And I’m going to fuck you up.

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"Loverboy" Vinnie Lane (05-08-2019)




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