Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2023 18:22:49 GMT -5
Artemis’s hand trembles as she attempts to put brush to canvas. The Artiste braves effort in vain and tosses the paint-dipped paddle aside. The worst artist's block ever still resides.
” I still can’t.”
Artemis stands and looks around the room filled with so many of her perfections. Art on the walls. All manner of musical instruments marooned in various areas.
” I thought being on Brawl for that drab Toll Booth Q-and-A with the Real Untamed Demon would get the juices flowing and open up my creativity and break this block.”
She pays special attention to some of the pictures on her wall. They bring back memories. That time she performed with Elton John. The night she earned the top honor at the most prestigious art event in the world, ‘The Art Basel’ in Switzerland. She runs her hand over the framed picture of her and the most famous artist in the world, Gerhard Richter, who had marveled at her interpretation of his 1998 masterpiece, “Seascape.”
” What say you, dearest muse?”
Donatello finishes up surfing his phone.
” I think once you trample those three yeasty rump-faced codpieces on Brawl your creativity will return in some measure.”
” I hope so. My prowess in other ventures precedes me. It’s why they put me so high up the card in my debut. Ninth match. Surely when I vanquish those three tardy gaited dewberries it will spark something.”
Her muse bows in supplication to her. It’s needless to do so and she’s told him not to, but he still does it.
” It will. Everything you touch, you perfect. Professional wrestling will be no different, though I wish you would have picked another activity to perfect.”
She nods with a hum.
” I had to. There’s nothing more unsightly and ugly than professional wrestling. The reason it’s gotten this way is because there is no other person like me on this Earth. I am a once-in-a-lifetime gift. It would take someone like me to usher in a Renaissance. You know this.”
” I do but I love it when you remind me.”
” Of that which I speak, has there been any word from those whom I called during the bit with Real Untamed Demon on Brawl?”
” I’m afraid not. People such as Cassette Collective, Emily Simms, and Dawn Warren strike me as the type who will need to see something from you first before committing to such a noble yet difficult task as joining your Renaissance. The term Renaissance sounds close to Resistance and they might not know the difference. They are wrestlers, so, not the brightest.”
” This is unfortunate but true. Let it be done then. Come.”
She snaps her fingers and leaves the room with her muse trailing behind her.
If one must start a Renaissance, one needs to start big. WGWF has met Artemis halfway already by booking her so high on the One Year Anniversary card. The Artiste has capitalized on this by shackling herself and her dearest muse, Donatello, to the main entrance doors of the house of ill-repute known as The Velvet Rabbit, not long before Brawl is set to begin.
What are you doing, Joule? Why must you slander the masses with your falsehoods? Paragon? I think not. No woman beholden to such a high and noble status as Paragon would ever agree to compete in a cesspool of unsavory sell-selves like the Velvet Rabbit. Its owner, a woman no less, exploits the virtues of men and women for financial gain. A smart woman she is, agreed, but a slack of soul indeed. You should be protesting. A woman of real paragonic virtue would, but I know that's not you no matter how hard you try to make everyone, including yourself, believe. You wear this falsehood like a cheap perfume. It’s intoxicating. If anything you will welcome this venue like a Christian arriving at the Pearly Gates. This house of smut will be a safe space for you, a place that will welcome anyone with enough coin or the willingness to show a little skin. So, very, very paragonic of you, dear Joule. Bravo. Perhaps you should rethink your status as a paragon, for not even a woman of my echelon and prestige dares call myself that.
So, I ask again, Joule. What are you doing here? Your tenure in Action Wrestling came to an end, and I think it was because you folded to pressure. If you’re snapping at reporters taking your pictures outside of a police station upon resolving a speeding ticket, I wonder how you will measure up to something as massive as this one-year anniversary show? If you’re having panic attacks and need stress balls for trivial matters, how shall you handle three adversaries? I’ll be fine myself. I’ve worked wonders of art in galleries thrice as large as this Castle of Harlotry and played music with the likes of Elton John, Seal, and John Legend. But you? I dare a guess and it’s no.
Cops have gathered around the brave and noble Artmeis and her trusted muse Donatello. Try as they might, they cannot free the pair from the doors. Not only have the two courageous people shackled themselves to the door in many, many chains and locks, but they have also gorilla glued themselves to the frames of the doors. Vegas’s finest begin chipping away with cutters as Artemis and Donatello sing the song of their people.
Artemis and Donatello: *singing* PHARAOH PHARAOH OH OH LET OUR PEOPLE GO!
Skylar, Skylar, Skylar. So much promise. So much spirit. I commend you for at least knowing why you’re here, unlike little lost Joule. Mind if I suffer you a thought? Perhaps you should start thinking for yourself instead of letting your brother and his buddies influence every little aspect of your life. It’s only a matter of time before he screws you over. He will get jealous at some point. It’s not because he’s a bad person. It’s because he’s human. Oliver and his comrades have handicapped you already. You’ve told him to be at ringside but not interfere in your matches. How long do you think that will last? The first time you get a career-defining match he’s gonna win it for you or cost you. They’ve handicapped you into believing he will always play it straight. He won’t. He’s human in a sport full of temptations that could sway the saintliest saint.
They’ve also watered you down to where you try so very hard to not injure your opponent. This is such an endearing trait in you. I like it, but little one, please understand that none of your opponents will give you the same grace. Beating John Blade is one thing. Everyone already has beaten him. Even the ones without arms and legs. Trying to topple three who’re hungry or hungrier than you? That’s different. As the cool kids say: ‘there’s levels to this’. And dearest Skylar, you’re not on it.
A riot has not fallen upon the outskirts of the Velvet Rabbit. The cops are not moving in a manner that expresses expedience in prying Artemis and Donatello from the doors preventing the fans from entering. Obviously, this has upset the status quo of the wrestling fanbase, making them turn to violence as the first option. Many are pepper sprayed and some are even tasered. The officers have gotten all the locks and chains broken from the duo but now they have the new challenge of prying them free despite the buckets of gorilla glue they used to stick themselves to the doors.
And then there was one. Atara Raven. Little Miss Inconsistent. The Goddess of Laziness. Are you insulted about being put into a match with three greens? Does it make your blood boil that the ones who book these shows had so little faith in you that they gave you the three of us to either score an easy win or to make one of us look great if we won? It’s a win-win for them. For you? Dare I say the pressure is on? You’re the youngest, most able-bodied competitor in the wrestling spectrum who should just retire. You don’t have it anymore. A year ago you were a big deal. Now? You’re the floormat who got eaten up and spit out twice by Sonya and a few others who never progressed after it.
And now you’re facing three starving lionesses. When that bell rings you won’t be a goddess. You will be the antelope getting chased down and devoured by the pack. The cons of being well-known and popular. Do not worry though, I am sure our new general manager will be quick to whore you out like the unsavory codpiece you are immediately after the match. I would suffer a guess that it was your employment at the Velvet Rabbit that garnered any attention for such a contest between us. Perhaps a fetish bought and paid for by some deviant men wanting to see a goddess fall? That sounds apropos for the clientele in this filthy hovel. I hope you get all of the slut out of your system before your little girl grows up to know what kind of dirty whore prostitute you are. For her sake, since you don’t take her into consideration with your virtue-less antics.
One officer lets it slip that it will take an hour at least for the special chemicals to arrive that will dilute the glued duo enough to pry them off the doors. The news sends the fans into a deeper frenzy, and several begin fighting with the officers. This doesn’t end well as anyone would guess, and before long some police brutality commences. Finally, after the dust settles, brave Artemis and Donatello are arrested and then released on bond, allowing them to make it back to the ugly Velvet Rabbit in time for their match.
Their protest was by and large a success. They had prevented many fans from entering the Velvet Rabbit to attend the show, which would likely have featured the dreadful Joe Montorrie and his sidechick with the one brain cell further nose-diving the sport into the abyss, or the new GM, Candice, advocating for her whoredom business like the soulless pimp she is.
” I still can’t.”
Artemis stands and looks around the room filled with so many of her perfections. Art on the walls. All manner of musical instruments marooned in various areas.
” I thought being on Brawl for that drab Toll Booth Q-and-A with the Real Untamed Demon would get the juices flowing and open up my creativity and break this block.”
She pays special attention to some of the pictures on her wall. They bring back memories. That time she performed with Elton John. The night she earned the top honor at the most prestigious art event in the world, ‘The Art Basel’ in Switzerland. She runs her hand over the framed picture of her and the most famous artist in the world, Gerhard Richter, who had marveled at her interpretation of his 1998 masterpiece, “Seascape.”
” What say you, dearest muse?”
Donatello finishes up surfing his phone.
” I think once you trample those three yeasty rump-faced codpieces on Brawl your creativity will return in some measure.”
” I hope so. My prowess in other ventures precedes me. It’s why they put me so high up the card in my debut. Ninth match. Surely when I vanquish those three tardy gaited dewberries it will spark something.”
Her muse bows in supplication to her. It’s needless to do so and she’s told him not to, but he still does it.
” It will. Everything you touch, you perfect. Professional wrestling will be no different, though I wish you would have picked another activity to perfect.”
She nods with a hum.
” I had to. There’s nothing more unsightly and ugly than professional wrestling. The reason it’s gotten this way is because there is no other person like me on this Earth. I am a once-in-a-lifetime gift. It would take someone like me to usher in a Renaissance. You know this.”
” I do but I love it when you remind me.”
” Of that which I speak, has there been any word from those whom I called during the bit with Real Untamed Demon on Brawl?”
” I’m afraid not. People such as Cassette Collective, Emily Simms, and Dawn Warren strike me as the type who will need to see something from you first before committing to such a noble yet difficult task as joining your Renaissance. The term Renaissance sounds close to Resistance and they might not know the difference. They are wrestlers, so, not the brightest.”
” This is unfortunate but true. Let it be done then. Come.”
She snaps her fingers and leaves the room with her muse trailing behind her.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If one must start a Renaissance, one needs to start big. WGWF has met Artemis halfway already by booking her so high on the One Year Anniversary card. The Artiste has capitalized on this by shackling herself and her dearest muse, Donatello, to the main entrance doors of the house of ill-repute known as The Velvet Rabbit, not long before Brawl is set to begin.
What are you doing, Joule? Why must you slander the masses with your falsehoods? Paragon? I think not. No woman beholden to such a high and noble status as Paragon would ever agree to compete in a cesspool of unsavory sell-selves like the Velvet Rabbit. Its owner, a woman no less, exploits the virtues of men and women for financial gain. A smart woman she is, agreed, but a slack of soul indeed. You should be protesting. A woman of real paragonic virtue would, but I know that's not you no matter how hard you try to make everyone, including yourself, believe. You wear this falsehood like a cheap perfume. It’s intoxicating. If anything you will welcome this venue like a Christian arriving at the Pearly Gates. This house of smut will be a safe space for you, a place that will welcome anyone with enough coin or the willingness to show a little skin. So, very, very paragonic of you, dear Joule. Bravo. Perhaps you should rethink your status as a paragon, for not even a woman of my echelon and prestige dares call myself that.
So, I ask again, Joule. What are you doing here? Your tenure in Action Wrestling came to an end, and I think it was because you folded to pressure. If you’re snapping at reporters taking your pictures outside of a police station upon resolving a speeding ticket, I wonder how you will measure up to something as massive as this one-year anniversary show? If you’re having panic attacks and need stress balls for trivial matters, how shall you handle three adversaries? I’ll be fine myself. I’ve worked wonders of art in galleries thrice as large as this Castle of Harlotry and played music with the likes of Elton John, Seal, and John Legend. But you? I dare a guess and it’s no.
Cops have gathered around the brave and noble Artmeis and her trusted muse Donatello. Try as they might, they cannot free the pair from the doors. Not only have the two courageous people shackled themselves to the door in many, many chains and locks, but they have also gorilla glued themselves to the frames of the doors. Vegas’s finest begin chipping away with cutters as Artemis and Donatello sing the song of their people.
Artemis and Donatello: *singing* PHARAOH PHARAOH OH OH LET OUR PEOPLE GO!
Skylar, Skylar, Skylar. So much promise. So much spirit. I commend you for at least knowing why you’re here, unlike little lost Joule. Mind if I suffer you a thought? Perhaps you should start thinking for yourself instead of letting your brother and his buddies influence every little aspect of your life. It’s only a matter of time before he screws you over. He will get jealous at some point. It’s not because he’s a bad person. It’s because he’s human. Oliver and his comrades have handicapped you already. You’ve told him to be at ringside but not interfere in your matches. How long do you think that will last? The first time you get a career-defining match he’s gonna win it for you or cost you. They’ve handicapped you into believing he will always play it straight. He won’t. He’s human in a sport full of temptations that could sway the saintliest saint.
They’ve also watered you down to where you try so very hard to not injure your opponent. This is such an endearing trait in you. I like it, but little one, please understand that none of your opponents will give you the same grace. Beating John Blade is one thing. Everyone already has beaten him. Even the ones without arms and legs. Trying to topple three who’re hungry or hungrier than you? That’s different. As the cool kids say: ‘there’s levels to this’. And dearest Skylar, you’re not on it.
A riot has not fallen upon the outskirts of the Velvet Rabbit. The cops are not moving in a manner that expresses expedience in prying Artemis and Donatello from the doors preventing the fans from entering. Obviously, this has upset the status quo of the wrestling fanbase, making them turn to violence as the first option. Many are pepper sprayed and some are even tasered. The officers have gotten all the locks and chains broken from the duo but now they have the new challenge of prying them free despite the buckets of gorilla glue they used to stick themselves to the doors.
And then there was one. Atara Raven. Little Miss Inconsistent. The Goddess of Laziness. Are you insulted about being put into a match with three greens? Does it make your blood boil that the ones who book these shows had so little faith in you that they gave you the three of us to either score an easy win or to make one of us look great if we won? It’s a win-win for them. For you? Dare I say the pressure is on? You’re the youngest, most able-bodied competitor in the wrestling spectrum who should just retire. You don’t have it anymore. A year ago you were a big deal. Now? You’re the floormat who got eaten up and spit out twice by Sonya and a few others who never progressed after it.
And now you’re facing three starving lionesses. When that bell rings you won’t be a goddess. You will be the antelope getting chased down and devoured by the pack. The cons of being well-known and popular. Do not worry though, I am sure our new general manager will be quick to whore you out like the unsavory codpiece you are immediately after the match. I would suffer a guess that it was your employment at the Velvet Rabbit that garnered any attention for such a contest between us. Perhaps a fetish bought and paid for by some deviant men wanting to see a goddess fall? That sounds apropos for the clientele in this filthy hovel. I hope you get all of the slut out of your system before your little girl grows up to know what kind of dirty whore prostitute you are. For her sake, since you don’t take her into consideration with your virtue-less antics.
One officer lets it slip that it will take an hour at least for the special chemicals to arrive that will dilute the glued duo enough to pry them off the doors. The news sends the fans into a deeper frenzy, and several begin fighting with the officers. This doesn’t end well as anyone would guess, and before long some police brutality commences. Finally, after the dust settles, brave Artemis and Donatello are arrested and then released on bond, allowing them to make it back to the ugly Velvet Rabbit in time for their match.
Their protest was by and large a success. They had prevented many fans from entering the Velvet Rabbit to attend the show, which would likely have featured the dreadful Joe Montorrie and his sidechick with the one brain cell further nose-diving the sport into the abyss, or the new GM, Candice, advocating for her whoredom business like the soulless pimp she is.