Standard Match
Victory to be awarded via pinfall, submission, knockout, count-out, or disqualification. All standard match rules apply.
Last edited by winner3 on Tue Feb 06, 2024 11:03 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Links to stuff I wish more people would read General Wrestling Knowledge Primer<-- What's makes a face, a face? What does it mean to sell? And more
PPV Explanation / Explanation on Supercards<-- What does PPV stand for and why do we do them? What's the difference between a PPV Event and a Supercard
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In the Ice Castle near Innsbruck, Austria, the stage was set for a showdown between two male wrestlers at the winter's PPV event. Backstage, Blake, dressed in his vibrant red trunks and sporting his usual wrestling gear, anxiously awaited his moment to shine. However, tonight was not just about showcasing talent for Blake; he had a burning desire to express something that had been weighing on his mind. Blake's Enterance Music
As the lights dimmed and the atmosphere crackled with anticipation, the electrifying beats of "The Champ Is Here" by Jadakiss filled the air, announcing the arrival of the self-proclaimed "Pretty Boy" Blake. With an air of arrogance, Blake strutted onto the stage, radiating confidence and oozing flamboyance. His oversized gold chain, proudly displaying the word "Champion," dangled around his neck, while his golden-framed sunglasses added an extra touch of extravagance to his already flashy attire. Blake's Stage Attire
The crowd's reaction was a mix of disdain and indifference, as Blake's polarizing persona failed to win over any hearts in the audience. Unfazed by the lack of support, Blake strolled down the ramp, his trademark smug grin never leaving his face, relishing in the chorus of boos and jeers that echoed throughout the arena. Flaunting his ostentatious accessories, he hopped onto the apron, expertly playing to the cameras and basking in his own perceived greatness. With a dismissive flick, he discarded his sunglasses and casually draped his gaudy chain over the ring post, exuding an air of contemptuous confidence as he eagerly awaited the arrival of his opponent.
Last edited by Maledomfan on Sun Mar 17, 2024 2:44 pm, edited 2 times in total.
The Ice Castle near Innsbruck, Austria, was brimming with energy. Apart from being LAW’s first trip there, the fans were anticipating the one men’s wrestling match on the card. Two big, powerful men were going to go at it. And Drake was pissed off for several reasons. First, his nemesis Oscar Orelash, who he had beaten, had left Japan to wrestle main event matches in a Florida promotion. Second, Drake was just coming off of a spectacular defeat at the hands of The Rascal Rylie Marshall. And last but not least, he was fighting a redhead who had a similar name to him. Drake was out for blood and eager to vent his frustrations. The arena went dark, and then a solitary moon-like light began glowing above the ring. Spoiler
Drake’s music hit and he stormed to the ring. He got up on the apron and did the water spraying routine. Drake got in the ring and faced his opponent as the announcer began, ”And to my left, from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, weighing in at 275 lbs, he is the Steel Colossus, DRAAAAAAAKE BENTONNN!!!”
Last edited by ScylliasExoter on Tue Feb 13, 2024 2:15 am, edited 1 time in total.
Amidst the excitement of the crowd, the arena lights dimmed, signaling the imminent arrival of the highly-anticipated showdown between Drake and The Pretty Boy, Blake. The atmosphere was buzzing as Drake's music played through the venue, igniting a frenzy of cheers and applause.
With a commanding voice, the announcer introduced the enigmatic Drake to the roaring audience, his words echoing throughout the arena. Meanwhile, in the shadows, Blake stood tall and unwavering, his gaze fixed upon the ring with an intensity that hinted at the impending chaos.
With Introductions out of the way and the Two heavyweights were separated to their respected corner, the ref would make sure both men were ready before calling for the bell to sound.
DING DING DING!!!
As the bell chimed, signaling the start of the match. Blake wasted no time, swiftly circling around Drake, preparing to engage in a fierce lock-up. The crowd held their breath, eager to witness the clash between these two heavyweights. But, in a surprising twist, Blake caught everyone off guard. Rather than entering into combat, he abruptly turned his back, slipped out of the ring, and positioned himself at a distance, wearing a defiant expression on his face, adamantly refusing to step into the wrestling ring.
As the referee's hand sliced through the air, initiating the countdown, Blake's impassive demeanor remained unaltered. Positioned at a distance from the ring, his eyes remained fixated on the canvas, seemingly unaffected by the mounting anticipation and the perplexed stares of the crowd.
"One! Two! Three!" The referee's voice reverberated throughout the arena, each count met with a surge of murmurs and disapproving shouts from the spectators. Sensing the escalating unrest, the official's brow furrowed in consternation as he continued the count.
"Four! Five!" The crowd's jeers grew louder, blending with the referee's fervent enumeration as the atmosphere crackled with tangible tension. Recognizing the need to intervene, the official approached the edge of the ring, his outstretched hand beckoning to Blake in a plea for compliance.
"Come on, Blake! Get back in the ring!" the referee urged, his voice tinged with a mixture of urgency and exasperation. Yet, Blake remained unyielding.
The count persisted, each number echoing with defiance, resonating throughout the arena. "Six! Seven!" The crowd's fervor reached its peak, a crescendo of protests and bewildered outcries that filled the air in the arena.
Meanwhile, atop the entrance stage, Blake's grip tightened around a steel chair on one hand and a mic on the other that he grabbed from a commentator desk, his gaze fixed on the ring. As the referee's count reached its climax, the official's expression shifted from concern to frustration, his attempts to reason with Blake proved to be a failure.
"Eight! Nine!" With a final, resolute sweep of his arm, the referee concluded the count, declaring Blake the loser by count-out. The audience's cheers transformed into jeers, a cacophony of disapproval that vibrated through the arena, intensifying the discord that hung heavily in the air.
Undeterred by the outcome, Blake's gaze remained locked on the ring, his expression an, fusion of defiance and purpose. The tension between him and the referee persisted, an unresolved conflict that lingered in the atmosphere.
DING DING DING!!! And the Winner by Count-out! DRAKE BENTON!
Last edited by Maledomfan on Wed Feb 14, 2024 4:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Drake was getting pumped up, and not just because he had bench pressed 15 minutes ago. He wanted to fight and was looking forward to laying a beatdown. But all that went away when Blake slipped out of the ring after they had circled each other. Drake stood there at the ready thinking this was mind games or an attempt to ambush him, but it was not. To everyone’s shock, the ref counted Blake out. A chorus of booing followed as the bell rang and the announcer declared Drake the winner via count out. Drake, hot with anger, grabbed the mic from the announcer.
”Listen here, bitch! What is it with redhead men in this organization?! You’re almost as big a coward as Oscar Orelash! You, sir, are making me look bad at a Pay Per View. You got one chance to explain yourself before I come over these ropes and introduce you to the Spanish announcers’ table!” Drake underhand-tossed the mic at Blake.
Last edited by ScylliasExoter on Thu Feb 15, 2024 4:19 am, edited 2 times in total.
Drake's anger was completely justified. The crowd seethed with fury, and as the echoes of boos subsided, Blake took center stage, placing the steel chair at the entrance. It was time for him to elucidate his actions as he sat on the steel chair and cleared his throat.
"You know, everyone backstage told me to go out there and have a killer match with Drake. Put on a show for all of you, give you your money's worth. But you know what I realized as that bell rang and I walked out on this match? It's all a facade. It's all a big, shiny distraction from the fact that we, the men of L.A.W., we're just filler. I mean, what's the point? You go out there, you bust your ass, you put your body on the line night after night, and for what? There's no championship for us, no main event spotlights. We're just here to make up the numbers, warm up the crowd for the 'real stars' of the show.
Hell, it's even in the name. You know what L.A.W. stands for? Ladies Action Wrestling. And we men can't even compete for any of the titles listed in the damn Board Index! I mean what the fuck are we even doing here!?"
Blake had to stop for a sec to get himself composed as he was showing clear signs of frustration to the company he is working in.
"And yeah, you can call this sour grapes. You can say I'm just another guy complaining because he didn't get what he wanted. But when CM Punk sat on the stage, legs crossed, spitting facts like fire, the world listened. He was hailed as a hero for having the courage to say what needed to be said. Well, guess what? I've got something to say too.
I'm not just another guy. I am THE guy who's going to break the silence in this company. The women of L.A.W., they deserve every ounce of respect and every championship they fight for. But what about us? Are we not athletes? Are we not performers? Are we not worthy?
Now, don't get me wrong. I've got nothing but love for the women who step into this ring. They've earned their spot. But equality is a two-way street, and it's about damn time we had the same opportunities to shine.
It's time for the men of L.A.W. to have our own revolution. It's time for us to have championships that mean something, storylines that captivate, and matches that headline. It's time for us to be more than just an afterthought.
And to the GMs, to the owners, to anyone who's got a shred of power in L.A.W.—you've been put on notice. I'm not here to toe the line. I'm here to redraw it. We, the men of this company, we're not asking for your permission. We're demanding your recognition.
And to my fellow wrestlers in the back, it's time to stop accepting the breadcrumbs. We are more than capable of having matches that steal the show, that sell tickets, that create moments that last a lifetime. But it starts with standing up.
It starts with standing up and refusing to be the background noise to someone else's melody. It starts with saying, 'I am here, I am talented, and I deserve to be recognized for the athlete that I am.'
The women of L.A.W. have set a standard. They've shown the world what they can do when given the chance. Now, it's our turn. It's our turn to create a division that's just as competitive, just as entertaining, and just as respected.
So to the powers that be, consider this your wake-up call. We're not going to sit back and let our potential be wasted. We're not going to be silent partners in this dance. Equality isn't just a buzzword to throw around; it's the very foundation that this company should be built on.
And Drake...you and I, we could've torn the house down tonight. We could've given these people a match to remember. But what's the point when the system we operate in doesn't value us? When the system is so skewed that it forgets half of its talent?
I apologize to you, Drake. Not for walking out, but because I want more for us—more than just being an opening act. And I know you want that too. I know you feel that same fire inside, that same desire to prove that we are more than what we're being given.
So here's what I propose: you and me, we don't just sit back and hope for change; we become the change. We don't wait for opportunities; we create them. Together, we can lead this division into a new era—an era where the men of L.A.W. are just as vital to this company's heartbeat as anyone else. I'm going to ignite a fire under everyone in the back and everyone in the boardroom. I'm calling on every man in that locker room to stand with me. It's time to show the world that we're not content with playing second fiddle. It's time to make our voices heard.
Together, we can redefine what it means to be a man in L.A.W. We can show that our matches, our stories, our careers matter just as much. That we're not just placeholders until the next women's title bout, but athletes who can captivate an audience and command respect.
And to the audience, to all of you who buy the tickets, who tune in week after week, you have more power than you realize. You have the power to demand better, to cheer for us, to show the company that you want to see us compete for something real. That you want to see us in matches that have weight, that have consequence.
And to the men who share that locker room with me, it's time to stop waiting for the tap on the shoulder, telling you it's your turn. It's time to stop being content with whatever scraps are thrown our way. We need to grab hold of our destinies and make them ours!
We stand on the shoulders of giants, men who have paved the way for us to be in this ring. But their legacy isn't just about the past; it's about what we do with it now, how we carry it forward. We owe it to them, to ourselves, and to the future of this sport to demand change.
So, Drake, the question isn't whether you're with me or against me. The question is, are you ready to be a part of something bigger than any one match, any one night, any one title? Are you ready to stand with me and fight for our place in this company?"
Drake stood there in the ring and listened to Blake go on about LAW’s management and culture towards men. And as pissed as he was that he wasn’t wrestling at the moment, Drake couldn’t help but feel like his opponent had a point. It seemed the crowd had a similar reaction. Blake’s promo began with a universal chorus of boos. However slowly but surely there were more cheers mixed in until the crowd was solidly mixed by the end. Drake called for another mic from ringside, pondered, and then replied. “Wow that’s a lot of people cheering you on. It’s a shame that those of you cheering are the worst of all!” Drake yelled to the crowd to an immediate chorus of boos. “You shut the hell up!” WHAT?! ”Now where was I?” WHAT?! ”You know the funny thing-“ WHAT?! ”If you’re gay, say ’WHAT!’” WHA-
The crowd caught itself and lost its momentum. With the evil What chant shut down, Drake wasted no time continuing. Pointing to the crowd,
”All you people are responsible for this. There is a reason the men in this company get no respect. And that reason is people like you don’t fight for anything worthwhile! This is the professional wrestling BUSINESS. I should be a main eventer. A top guy because I am a draw. Not for sex, but for BUSINESS. Meanwhile my rival, whose ass I kicked, runs off and gets better bookings in Florida. And those of you who cheered Blake just now are the worst of all because you’re fickle hypocrites-yeah I know that word-who are good at one thing: Kissing LAW’s ass! So, Blake, if you’re asking me if I’m ready to make a change around here… YOU’RE <beep> <beep> RIGHT I AM”
Blake, wearing a mischievous grin, speaks back into microphone and nods along with Drake's roasting of the fans in attendance that boo Blake. The crowd's energy shifts as they come together in unity in the ring.
"You see that People!? Looks like Drake here is a real Alpha male," Blake continues, the grin still playing on his face as he points out into the sea of fans. As Blake's voice continues to echo through the arena, he takes the opportunity to address the booing fans.
"And You, every single one of you that is booing are the biggest bunch of degenerates I've ever laid my eyes upon!" Blake's tone is scornful, almost mocking, as he leans further into his role.
"Y'all out here sitting on your seats, not even paying attention to the matches and are probably looking at your phones and jacking off to some anime chick that don't even exist! Ya know what y'all are? A bunch of "We Want Women Weeaboos!""
The crowd's reaction grows louder, some jeering at being called out, while others might cheer, enjoying the theatrics and the engagement.
"Y'all think you're fans? Y'all think you're supporting the women? Nah, you're just jumping on the latest bandwagon, trying to sound cool and woke, but I see right through you! But guess what? Your boos, your chants, they don't faze me. They fuel me. Because every time you shout, every time you boo, you remind me why I'm here—to fight, to entertain, and to prove that I'm the best at what I do. So keep it coming, 'cause I'm not going anywhere, and neither is the real revolution in wrestling!"
Drake left the ring and started walking up the entrance ramp to Blake, mic in tow. A chorus of boos followed him. ”That’s right! You all can boo all you want! But the fact is Blake and I are physical specimens. You don’t deserve to see us fight. So we’re gonna go pump some iron and continue to develop ourselves into the type of physical specimen you folk could only dream of being. And when we come back, The Revolution will be televised!!”
After Blake and Drake confidently leave the ring, the crowd is filled with a mix of boos and cheers. The wrestlers exchange a knowing glance, acknowledging the impact of their words. The audience eagerly watches as Blake and Drake disappear behind the curtain, leaving a tense atmosphere in the air.
The camera focuses on the fans, capturing their diverse reactions. Some are visibly upset, while others are intrigued by the wrestlers' bold statements. The arena becomes charged with anticipation for the upcoming "Revolution" promised by Blake and Drake.
As the scene fades to black, the crowd's energy reflects the uncertainty and excitement, leaving wrestling enthusiasts eagerly awaiting the next chapter in this unfolding drama. The impact of the pipebomb promo lingers, sparking debates and discussions among fans as they eagerly anticipate the televised return of Blake and Drake and the unfolding of their proclaimed revolution in the wrestling world.
Links to stuff I wish more people would read
Peace, Love, and Sexy Wrestling Roleplay Stories 
