The Hands-On Approach [Dresden RP #1 vs. Sexton Love]
Nov 17, 2021 22:57:18 GMT -5
Dave D-Flipz, Drag, and 2 more like this
Post by Kris on Nov 17, 2021 22:57:18 GMT -5
"Wonder how many fanboys are gonna send you death threats..."
"How about we focus on your opponent so we can get this over with?"
"And here I thought you liked having your hands on me--"
"Not like this!"
And the visual cuts in on the blushing, less-than-amused expression of Manager Extraordinaire Eddie Walker.The camera zooms out to reveal that he is standing behind Eli Dresden, the woman who fought like Hell for a night with him at End Of Days. It seems she liked what happened enough to get his help for this video. Namely? Eli's only being kept decent by what many would consider to be the luckiest hands on the planet acting as her top, the rest of her upper body nude.
"You didn't complain last night!"
"Last night was not a professional venture. I have standards to maintain here! Now can you please get on with it?!"
"Okay, okay! Yeesh."
Blue eyes finally focus on the camera in front of her, Eli's lips pulling into that trademark smirk that is never a good thing for her opponent.
"I know there's allegedly no such thing as a stupid question, Sexton Love, but stupid people certainly exist--and boy fuckin' howdy, are you dumber than a box of rocks. Not that I don't get the whole me bein' attractive thing because, well..."
Both of Eli's hands move in a 'Tada!' fashion to gesture at her own physique.
"But everything else? It's painfully obvious to me that you learned my name, saw what I looked at, and then decided that nothin' else mattered. Not what I've accomplished since coming to NLW, not what I've proven myself capable of--not what I want to do with my life or even the obvious fact of me being sentient. No, see, the moment you figured out that I was attractive? You went full misogynist fuckstick, your makin' you think that I was just a sex object that would fall right in line with your delusions. And that's what you are at your core, ol' Popcorn Shrimp--delusional."
Dresden's eyes narrow into a glare, her smirk growing Vorpal-sharp.
"Delusional to think that you had a chance in Hell with me, because even if I wasn't gettin' my world rocked on a nightly basis by Eddie here--"
"Eli!"
"What?! It's true!"
Eli chuckles to herself, turning her head to lightly kiss Eddie's jawline before she continues.
"Anyway--even if I was single, I wouldn't lower my standards to humor your existence any more than I am required to on a professional level. And if you think that the only woman to hold the NLW World Championship, not to mention the winner of Hyperion's Trident and the scourge of New Money just to name a couple other accomplishments would throw her career away for anyone, much less a bottom-of-the-barrel stereotype that wouldn't be fit to lace up my boots? That's a special kind of willfully obtuse, especially when you consider the fact that you don't even do sexy better than I do."
Her smirk grows outright salacious, though it's obviously not targeted at her opponent. No, she's now playing to all the men (and women) who have flirted with her or tried to get her number--not to mention the fans at home.
"It's so painfully obvious that you're fakin' it. Y'know, like the women who had to fake it so you didn't start cryin' like a bitch when you were done uselessly floppin' on top of them like a dyin' fish. Bein' sexy is like bein' a monster--you don't try at it, hire some dickhead with a saxophone and spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on old cars and outdated eighties Miami Vice costume department scraps to try to convince people that you are. Sexy simply is, and you know what? Just like how I'm better in the ring and on the mic, I'm also sexier than you could ever hope to be, and unlike you, I don't need to dehumanize anyone to do it. So at Homecoming II, after I've outstripped you in every way imaginable, you're gonna be left with the cold, hard truth that you're not good enough to even share a ring with me, much less be graced with my presence otherwise."
A pause; Eli chuckles.
"But hey, at least you'll always have a future as a cocktail sauce spokesman. Hey Eddie, d'you think you have the number for the P.R. guys at SeaPak? Gorton's, maybe?"
"Eli--"
"What?! It's a legitimate question!"
Fade.
"How about we focus on your opponent so we can get this over with?"
"And here I thought you liked having your hands on me--"
"Not like this!"
And the visual cuts in on the blushing, less-than-amused expression of Manager Extraordinaire Eddie Walker.The camera zooms out to reveal that he is standing behind Eli Dresden, the woman who fought like Hell for a night with him at End Of Days. It seems she liked what happened enough to get his help for this video. Namely? Eli's only being kept decent by what many would consider to be the luckiest hands on the planet acting as her top, the rest of her upper body nude.
"You didn't complain last night!"
"Last night was not a professional venture. I have standards to maintain here! Now can you please get on with it?!"
"Okay, okay! Yeesh."
Blue eyes finally focus on the camera in front of her, Eli's lips pulling into that trademark smirk that is never a good thing for her opponent.
"I know there's allegedly no such thing as a stupid question, Sexton Love, but stupid people certainly exist--and boy fuckin' howdy, are you dumber than a box of rocks. Not that I don't get the whole me bein' attractive thing because, well..."
Both of Eli's hands move in a 'Tada!' fashion to gesture at her own physique.
"But everything else? It's painfully obvious to me that you learned my name, saw what I looked at, and then decided that nothin' else mattered. Not what I've accomplished since coming to NLW, not what I've proven myself capable of--not what I want to do with my life or even the obvious fact of me being sentient. No, see, the moment you figured out that I was attractive? You went full misogynist fuckstick, your makin' you think that I was just a sex object that would fall right in line with your delusions. And that's what you are at your core, ol' Popcorn Shrimp--delusional."
Dresden's eyes narrow into a glare, her smirk growing Vorpal-sharp.
"Delusional to think that you had a chance in Hell with me, because even if I wasn't gettin' my world rocked on a nightly basis by Eddie here--"
"Eli!"
"What?! It's true!"
Eli chuckles to herself, turning her head to lightly kiss Eddie's jawline before she continues.
"Anyway--even if I was single, I wouldn't lower my standards to humor your existence any more than I am required to on a professional level. And if you think that the only woman to hold the NLW World Championship, not to mention the winner of Hyperion's Trident and the scourge of New Money just to name a couple other accomplishments would throw her career away for anyone, much less a bottom-of-the-barrel stereotype that wouldn't be fit to lace up my boots? That's a special kind of willfully obtuse, especially when you consider the fact that you don't even do sexy better than I do."
Her smirk grows outright salacious, though it's obviously not targeted at her opponent. No, she's now playing to all the men (and women) who have flirted with her or tried to get her number--not to mention the fans at home.
"It's so painfully obvious that you're fakin' it. Y'know, like the women who had to fake it so you didn't start cryin' like a bitch when you were done uselessly floppin' on top of them like a dyin' fish. Bein' sexy is like bein' a monster--you don't try at it, hire some dickhead with a saxophone and spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on old cars and outdated eighties Miami Vice costume department scraps to try to convince people that you are. Sexy simply is, and you know what? Just like how I'm better in the ring and on the mic, I'm also sexier than you could ever hope to be, and unlike you, I don't need to dehumanize anyone to do it. So at Homecoming II, after I've outstripped you in every way imaginable, you're gonna be left with the cold, hard truth that you're not good enough to even share a ring with me, much less be graced with my presence otherwise."
A pause; Eli chuckles.
"But hey, at least you'll always have a future as a cocktail sauce spokesman. Hey Eddie, d'you think you have the number for the P.R. guys at SeaPak? Gorton's, maybe?"
"Eli--"
"What?! It's a legitimate question!"
Fade.
