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Post by Eʟʏsɪᴜᴍ Pʀᴏ on Sept 10, 2017 15:17:20 GMT -8
No. 1 Contendership - World Title
[Triple Threat Match]
Jake Archer vs. K-Remix vs. Sarah Lacklan
Deadline: Friday September 22nd, 2017 at 11:59pm EST
Limits: 2 Promos of 1000 Words Each [Maximum]
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Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2017 20:25:19 GMT -8
~~The PrincessTwilightSexyFang podcast, as viewed on hotgoths.fuckyeah~~ Okay, so Wideawake didn't go EXACTLY as I had hoped. I did not, for all of my troubles and trials, walk away with the title. Now, there are SOME PEOPLE, like that totes stuck in the midcard Starling, who would be all ZOMG YOU STILL CANTS TAKES HOMES THE GOLDS. But...well...to that, let me answer that with my newest promotional pic:
What's that? Is that a motherfuckin' CHAMPIONSHIP AROUNDS MY SEXY ASS WAIST?!
Damn straight. See, in the midst of all the buildup to this killer Elysium tournament, my Beloved wifey and I ('Sup, Ken 💋) waltzed our way into Canda (which is TOTES how you spell that fake country's name now) and became tag team champions. I will admit that I was pretty fucking emotional, what with the whole winning a major title in my first year wrestling (like my Father did!) at the side of the light of my life, my wife Kenzi, and I cried buckets. But that? Its over. We are what we are.
And now?
Now?
I want that singles gold just as much as I wanted that tag gold with my wife.
I want what Holland has in his crazy-ass hands.
I was THIS FUCKING CLOSE to taking that championship. SO FUCKING CLOSE. But, and I promise to the One Lord God above me, I will NEVER come up short again like that within the halls of this company. NEVER. The reality of the situation for everyone is that my rematch for the title, the legitimate Holland vs. Lacklan II, has already been booked, but people just do not realize it yet. But holy fuck, will they. That match? That date?
November 12th.
About 30 minutes away from my home on the West Coast.
Hallowed goddamn Ground.
Now, people don't realize that this match is already booked because I TECHNICALLY have to beat the everloving piss out of a couple of people first, but, shit, those two are so far down the list of importance that I probably already HAVE beaten them and we all just don't know it yet! I mean, seriously, just look at who all I am facing in a couple of weeks, yeah?
First we have Sir Remix-A-Lot. Like, I GUESS that he is kinda cute. For a guy. I guess. And I GUESS that he did a LITTLE BIT better than I expected him to. Now mind you, I DID predict that he would make it to the second round (wait...what? You don't know about my predictions? Well shit, son, you can check them out RIGHT HERE), and I ALSO predicted that he wouldn't make it out of THAT round, and I was TOTES right about that. BUT! Oh holy hell but! I didn't expect him to fair so damn well against the (eventual) winner in Holland. Like, serious props, dude. You impressed not just the crowd, but me. That's pretty coolio.
Know what is more coolio?
I did better against Holland than you did. Now, I SUPPOSE you can be all "THAT'S THE SPLITTING OF HAIRS WE BOTH LOST" but that argument would only make sense to an addled child. Or that addled child's idiot friend Jake. See, the TRUTH of the matter is that the dude who BEAT YOU had to go to, like, freakin' broadway AND BEYOND to do the same to me. And that was after I had had TWO matches to your one. What does that mean in the end?
That I am better than you.
Period.
Mind you, I mean no shade. I mean no disrespect. I am simply holding up the mirror. And that reflection that you see? The face staring back at you?
Is a loser.
Do not like that reflection? Do not like that face starring back at you?
Too bad.
But at least you are better than that addled child's idiot friend Jake.
'Sup, Goaty McGoatface! How are you? How is the nose? Like, can you breathe? I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't. Because, ya know, I smashed it so flat with my knees that it might as well be sticking out the back of your head. And, much like your looks, the damage I caused could only IMPROVE your intelligence!
Here is the dealio with you, Mister Tumnus: I am not sure how you ended up in this match. Like, legit. I am seriously wondering if bossman snuck into my bag and found the rations of...lets go with "stuff"...that my buddy Sativa slipped me for the day. Was he so spaced out of his mind that he thought you, of all people, were a worthy contender? Was he hanging out in Dreamland and missed that I beat you up so bad that you should have just quit the company because you knew that you would never come anywhere near my greatness?
I am guessing he was. Because, like, it is totes obvs that, of the three people in this match, you are that proverbial odd man out. Like, you know that old Sesame Street song? Lets sing!
"One of these things is not like the others One of these things just doesn't belong Can you tell which thing is not like the others By the time I finish my song?"
BOP BOP BOP DA DA DA DAHHHHHHHH!!!!!
You are the odd man out in this endeavor, Tumnus. See, I GET that you think that you are the greatest of all time, which is a trope SO OVERUSED TODAY that it might as well be a gif of Our Great President saying "WRONG!" or "You're fake news." I GET that you think those hairy eels on the sides of your face are sexy. I GET that you think that you'll win this one...do it for the Gipper!
But you won't.
Neither will Sir Remix-A-Lot.
Because this match? This shot at Holland?
It belongs to me.
It belongs to the revolution.
Now sing me a song.
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Post by K-Remix on Sept 18, 2017 0:20:31 GMT -8
The scene opens with K-Remix sitting in a dark room with his black hoodie pulled up over his head. The light from the television in front of him flickers across his face. On the screen is his match against Ashe Corvin from the Wideawake tournament. Suddenly the lights in the room come on and a familiar voice is heard.
K-Money: Don't you think it's time to burn that tape?
K-Remix: Nobody has used a tape since back in 1957 when you were still wrestling, I'm streaming this.
K-Money: You know what I mean you little smart ass.
K-Remix: I'm just going over my matches and trying to learn from my mistakes.
K-Money: If you would have listened to me then you wouldn't be sitting in here worried about the mistakes you made. As a matter of fact, you probably wouldn't be sitting in here at all because you'd be the Elysium Pro World Champion.
K-Remix: How many times do we have to go through this, I'M NOT YOU!
K-Money: You're damn right you're not me. I'd have fucked Ashe Corvin up! I'd have fucked Johnathan Cage up! If I wanted that trinket that Erik Holland is parading around with, I'd have it! So you're right, you're not me. However, aren't you supposed to be the better version of me? I mean that's your whole deal right? You're going to be better than I ever was?
K-Remix: I played the hand I was dealt the best I could and it wasn't good enough. On that night Holland was better than me.
K-Money: Oh, don't you give me that shit. Don't you lie to me. You and I both know that Erik Holland isn't better than you on any night. You may have all those people in crowd fooled into thinking that heart kept you in the match but it's bullshit, it's all bullshit. What they saw as heart is the same thing that I always had and it's the same thing that made your grandfather an excellent boxer. A chin made of granite runs in your family but heart doesn't. I despise your grandfather but even I can't hide the fact that he had heart. Every time he stepped into that ring, he did whatever it took in order to win. Head-butts, elbows, foot stomps, rabbit punches, and kidney punches. You name it and it was in that man's bag of tricks. It was the same way with me when it came to wrestling. I did whatever I had to do in order to get the job done. That's how badly your grandfather wanted it and that's how badly that I wanted it. However, you don't want it like we wanted it. You have to pay the cost to be the boss and you're afraid to do that.
K-Remix: OH MY GOD, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU PUSHING THIS?!?! I’m in contention for the Defiant Championship, I have a shot at Defiant's Titan Championship, and I'm in contention for the Elysium Pro World Championship. After four matches in my career that's where I am and you just keep shitting all over it. So what if being able to take a punch runs in the family? Just because you can take a punch doesn't mean you have to. There were plenty of times I could have stayed down and called it quits out there but I didn't. That's why those people were cheering me. Being capable of doing something and having the will to do it are two totally different things!
K-Money: Is that what you've been reduced to? So called moral victories? Talking up the fact that you didn't just lay down? There's plenty of people in this business who have made careers out of getting their asses kicked and not going down easy. That doesn't mean they were good. As a matter of fact, if that's the first thing people bring up about them then it's almost guaranteed that they weren't. Let's call a spade a spade here kid, I see right through you. Your problem is that you don't want to get your hands dirty. In spite of what you say, you do give a damn what people think of you.
K-Remix: I never said that I didn't care what people thought about me. I said that I didn't care what people thought of me OUTSIDE the ring. Inside of it I know exactly how I want people to think of me. With you people always say "yeah he was great but....". I want them to think of me as the best, PERIOD! No asterisks, no buts, just the best.
K-Money: I told you not to go into this business. I told you that I wanted you to be a better person than me. Your response? You told me over and over and over again that all you wanted was to be a better wrestler than I was. THAT’S WHAT I’M TRYING TO DO FOR YOU! Your pure talent is through the roof! If you would just listen to me then I guarantee you that you will be the best. All you have to do is stop handcuffing yourself to what people think. I have never and will never care what people thought of me. It doesn't matter if they say that I was great and then throw out some bullshit in order to try and discredit me. Anything they say after the part about me being great is meaningless. After all, the fact that I did whatever it took to win doesn't change the fact that I won.
K-Remix: You're right, it doesn't. But you know, I know, and the world knows. They're always going to wonder what you would have been if you did things the right way. So bruh, thanks but no thanks. I'm going to do this my way, the right way.
K-Remix stands up and walks past his father without even looking at him. The screen now fades to black.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 22, 2017 11:28:26 GMT -8
A letter arrives at the desk of Kelly Godless. The paper is a hard stationary, a high quality product from a special tree grown in Lacklanland Forest for this very reason, a soft eggshell in color, with the trifold so precise that one must wonder whether or not it has been pressed by a machine. The ink is a deep red, an eason dye colored with tallic and diluted with water out of the frigid springs within Lacklanland Forest, waters so pure that both Fiji and Voss once tried to stop Lacklan International from selling it. The Lacklans never would, of course. No, this water was for those with superior genetics, not lowborn commoners. The letters themselves are written by a fine hand, with wide loops and small hearts used in place of dots over the letter “i.” A hand to perfect in its smoothness that the local calligraphy guild all stood up and applauded, several even standing on their chairs with, fist raised high, the cry of “O Captain, my Captain!” filling the air. Hints of lavender waft from the stationary and, towards the bottom of the page, two small symbols are etched into either side; a cross in the center of a sunburst on the left, a firebird in flight on the right.
Dearest Mister Godless,
It is with sadness that I write this letter, Sir. Indeed, my hand shakes as I write, though you would not be able to tell, as my penmanship is totes as amazeballz perfect as my diction. Obvs. But, indeed I am filled with sadness. And that sadness? It is for the children who would watch Elysium in hopes of seeing the greatest wrestlers fight in the most competitive matches. My tears? They fall for the invalids who sit in their hospital rooms, some unable to do more than simply exist, who look upon our business as something to aspire to, as real life superheroes. My grief? Oh...oh...it is is good...it is deep...it is eternal…
I weep for the people who thought that my match with Sir Remix-a-lot and Mister Tumnis was going to be anything but this squat booty albino kicking the everliving shit out of two overmatched nitwits.
Lo! Good Sir! I weep for myself! I weep for the high hopes that I had when this match was booked! I weep for the little albino girl who, her red eyes brimming with tears, looked upon her massive and totes powerful father as he traded blows with other world champions, and dreamed of having her own such battles. I weep for that little girl, for the Blood Princess, who so wished to find opponents who actually knew how to cut a promo and back it up in the ring. I weep for her, Sir! The Red Queen weeps for what turned out to be the false dreams of the Blood Princess!
Because this, dear Sir? This match? It is not competitive. It is not a shining example of what Elysium main events should be. It is not a worthy followup to the instant classic that Holland and I had at our first event. No, Sir. No. Instead, this match features a man in Sir Remix-A-Lot who can only garner victories in a promotion who can only put on two matches in a bingo hall and call it an event. And Tumnis? He of the hairy-eeled face? Even worse! His banter...oh, where is his banter?! A man so obsessed with getting himself over on Twitter, so obsessed with being Mr. Jokey-Talky, yet he has been nearly silent in the intervening days since I crushed his stupid face with my knees and pinned him in the middle of the ring.
Where is the competition, Sir?! Where is the back-and-forth of enemies for battles worthy of entertaining masses? Where is the life of my two opponents? Where is there ANY SIGN AT ALL that these two are worthy of the opportunity to face Holland at Hallowed Ground? Where is the proof that these two dipshits are ANYTHING more than two little boys in their underwear who are about to piss themselves in fright when their genetic superior stands before them and crushes them with her totes elite second-generation skills? Where is ANY REASON AT ALL that they should be in a main event with me?!
Nowhere, Sir.
Nowhere.
Thus, my sadness. Thus, my tears.
But I promise you, Sir, that this sadness shall be taken away by elation. It shall be removed. Because in just a few days time, I shall climb into that ring with the members of the "I totes legit have no idea how to cut an appropriate promo" stable and will show them what it means to fight the Firestarter, the Bloodletter. I will remind Tumnis of how deadly my legs are, I will show Sir Remix-A-Lot that, had the arrangement of the tournament been different and he would have fought me instead of Holland, he would have lost even FASTER than when he got whooped by the champion.
I will show them what happens when a crowd turns on them in favor of a true hero, of a figure truly worthy of praise. Yes! The crowd cheered mightily for Sir Remix-a-lot after his failed attempt to defeat Holland. Yes! They stood for him! But the man before me now is not the same. No...no...he has been shaken into silence, rocked to his very core at taking one of those dreaded 'Ls.' I wonder what shall happen when I hand him his second? And Tumnis? Oh, sweet Tumnis! How the crowd laughed at his quips! How the crowd guffawed at his antics! But there was no laughing when he laid in a pool of his own blood two weeks ago. No laughing at the fool facing the executioner.
The sadness leaves soon, Sir. And then?
And then?
The predator takes what belongs to her at Hallowed Ground.
Your obedient,
Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan
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Post by K-Remix on Sept 22, 2017 17:53:49 GMT -8
My bad guys, did my last promo stray too far from the already repetitive formula that 90% of the federation is using? You know, like how we're on our second show and Sarah Lacklan has already managed to become a broken record. Her promos are basically a recycled sandwich at this point. She throws in a couple new things which serves as the bread then tosses the same old shit in the middle. Next she shoves it down everybody's throat and hopes nobody notices. We noticed but honestly it's your own fault. If you were good enough to construct new arguments on a foundation stronger than quicksand then your bullshit might actually fly. So you tell me, how does it feel to look into the mirror at a reflection of somebody who can't even talk the talk much less walk the walk? Actually cancel that because we both know your skin is as transparent as your promos.
You had two matches before you fought Holland and I had one, oh sweet addled child o' mine. You have no idea how hard it is not to sing Guns N' Roses right now but I'ma stay on topic. Really though, that's what you went with? Plus it's hilarious that you thought I was going to bring up how we both lost. Why would I do that? You went so far out of your way to avoid talking about what really happened that all I need to do is tell the truth. The simple truth is the circumstances we faced that night were nowhere near the same. The only person who would act like our circumstances were the same is a weak minded loser. One that needs to keep their undeserved confidence intact. One that hasn't accomplished shit on their own and needs to brag about tag team accomplishments to feel better about themselves.
Let's make this easy Lacklan, just answer a few questions for me. Did you get caught up in a lover's quarrel after your first match? Did you get jumped from behind and get the shit kicked out of you? Did you get layed out because Corvin and Cage can't decide which one is going to be the top in their relationship? Hmm, that's pretty odd then. You know, since you acted as though our circumstances from that night were exactly the same. The truth isn't really your strong suit though since I can only win in the bingo hall federation I'm in. I guess my win in Elysium doesn't count all of a sudden? God damn it Lacklan! I told you on Twitter to get your shit together and YOU CAN'T EVEN DO THAT!
So from where I'm sitting you should be thanking me for the way I did my first promo. Using that as an opportunity to actually show what was going on in my life instead of doing an all trash talk extravaganza actually helps you. See the back and forth you want so much, you can't handle that sweetie. The proof speaks for itself. I haven't won a match outside of Defiant? Did that. I was silent? No, I'm pretty sure I dropped a promo. Plus I snuffed you out on twitter when you wanted to talk shit so there's that. You’re out here in your promos body bagging yourself because you can't keep your fucking story straight. Or tell the truth to save your life. Yet you want to trade words with me? You gotta get T-Ball down before you're ready for the big leagues honey, but it's cute seeing you try.
Then there is Jake Archer. If there is anybody who doesn't deserve to be in this match then it's him. As a matter of fact, you can probably make the case that he doesn't even deserve to be on the roster. He beat Redd Thunder due to the fact that Thunder cares roughly 0% about succeeding in Elysium. Meanwhile Archer seems to be dead set on half assing it. There's nothing wrong with talking about how good you look. There's nothing wrong with roasting people on twitter. There isn't even anything wrong with thinking that you're great. As a matter of fact I'm guilty of all of those things. However at the end of the day none of that matters. What really matters is what you do once you step inside of that ring. The last time that the Elysium fans saw me they were cheering me because I'm a warrior. The last time the Elysium fans saw you Archer, they were also cheering. However, they were cheering for a different reason. They were cheering because you got exactly what you deserved. You want to run your mouth like you're the best? Then you best be prepared to get chin checked. Come on Archer, we both know that you ain't about that life. You're softer than Chinchilla fur which actually fits you. You're a lot closer to a rodent than you are a goat.
I'm not biting my tongue about anything. I was robbed of my fair shot at the championship. Oh make no mistake I went out there against Holland and made it look like I was as fresh as my clothes. That just goes to show you how lit my skills are. I had already taken more than two matches worth of damage before I had even stepped foot in the ring with him. Yet the mighty Erik Holland still struggled to put me away, that says a lot. Now who really deserves this rematch? A guy just half assing his was through his career, talking a big game but doing nothing to back it up? A women who can't even keep her thoughts together well enough to bullshit people into believeing that she knows what she's talking about? Or the guy who got screwed over because two geriatric ball bags just can't quit each other? The answer is simple but there was never really another option.
I got this.
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