Irianna AKA Ira Tiger (she/her) - my women's wrestler character - Willow Nightingale was a big inspiration point for her wrestling style + character design!
The air inside Michigan Stadium was a roaring tempest of 80,000 screaming fans. WrestleMania: Michigan. For Luke Hughes, the noise was unlike anything he’d ever experienced on the ice. He sat with his family—his dad, Jim; his mom, Ellen; his brothers, Jack and Quinn—and a few close Devils teammates and friends in a luxury box near the entrance ramp.
The atmosphere was electric, but Luke felt a knot of dread, not excitement, tightening in his stomach. His gaze was fixed on the massive Titantron, waiting for the main event.
“This is wild, man,” Jack whispered, leaning over. “I’ve never seen Dad this hyped for anything that wasn’t a gold medal game.”
Jim Hughes was indeed animated, cheering for the team of Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin, The Motor City Machine Guns, who had just captured the WWE Tag Team Championships earlier in the night. They were Sabrina’s trainers and close friends, a good omen.
Now, the music of Stephanie Vaquer, the reigning Women’s World Champion, hit the speakers, a symphony of arrogance and power. Luke watched as the dark haired powerhouse strutted down the long ramp, radiating an aura of dominance.
Then, the stadium went dark. A deep, soulful blues riff, mixed with the growl of a Detroit engine, blasted through the speakers.
“THE HEART OF DETROIT!”
Luke leaned forward, his hands gripping the barricade that separates him from the ring.
Sabrina Serafina’s theme music hit, and the crowd—her hometown crowd—erupted into a deafening, unified cheer. She emerged from the back, dressed in black and white gear, looking like a battle-hardened angel. Her face, usually so warm and full of life, was set in a mask of intense focus. She stopped at the top of the ramp, looked out over the sea of lights, and then pointed a finger to the sky before running full-tilt to the ring.
The bell rang. The main event, a WWE First-Ever Women’s Unsanctioned Match for the Women’s World Championship, was officially underway.
—
The match started like a hurricane. Stephanie tried to overpower Sabrina, but the smaller woman was a ball of fire, dodging and weaving, striking with rapid-fire palm strikes and a running knee. The initial flurry ended when Stephanie caught Sabrina and delivered a devastating spinebuster.
Luke winced. He knew wrestling was a performance, but the sound of that impact was sickeningly real.
“Luke, breathe,” Ellen said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She knows what she’s doing. She’s strong.”
“Yeah, but… unsanctioned means anything goes, Mom,” Luke mumbled, his eyes never leaving the action.
The match spilled to the outside. Stephanie tossed Sabrina into the steel steps. Luke felt Jack put a supportive hand on his shoulder.
“She’s got this, little brother. She’s a warrior,” The oldest Hughes brother said, though his own jaw was clenched.
Stephanie slid a steel ladder from under the ring, laying it flat across the apron and the barricade. She dragged a dazed Sabrina over and placed her back on the ladder. Stephanie climbed to the top turnbuckle, preparing a high-risk maneuver.
Sabrina stirred just in time. She slipped off the ladder and quickly grabbed a chair. As Stephanie launched herself off the ropes, going for a senton splash, Sabrina threw the chair at her. It caught Stephanie square in the ribs mid-air, causing her to crash hard onto the now-bent steel ladder. Stephanie screamed in pain, and the crowd went nuts.
Sabrina, capitalizing, pulled Stephanie back into the ring and delivered a Serafina Drop (a modified snap DDT), but Stephanie kicked out at two.
—
The fight continued, brutal and unforgiving. Stephanie, desperate, pulled out a kendo stick. They traded fierce blows, the cracking sounds echoing through the stadium. Stephanie caught Sabrina with a vicious kendo stick shot across the head.
The crowd gasped.
Luke’s breath hitched. “Oh, God.”
Sabrina crumpled to the mat, and when she rolled over, a crimson line was visible across her forehead, the first sign of blood.
Ellen gasped, pulling her hand from Luke’s shoulder to cover her mouth. “Jim, is she… is she alright?”
“She’s tough, Ellen. She’s tough,” Jim replied, though he too looked pale.
Luke felt a desperate, cold fear flood him. He watched, helpless, as Sabrina instinctively covered the cut, the pain forcing her to momentarily pause.
Stephanie immediately grabbed her, delivering a brutal Vaquer Bomb (a lifting powerbomb). The referee, despite the lack of rules, counted: One! Two! Sabrina, driven by pure instinct, kicked out.
Luke squeezed his eyes shut for a second, fighting back tears. Get up, please get up.
—
The match had reached a fever pitch. Stephanie was dazed after a brutal superkick from Sabrina, but Detroit women, fueled by the sight of her own blood and the energy of her hometown, used the moment to retreat to the outside. She pulled out a table—the ultimate sign of a final, desperate move.
The crowd roared, chanting, “HOLY SHT! HOLY SHT!”
Sabrina dragged the table out from underneath the ring to empty floor , setting it up perfectly. She then rummaged under the apron, retrieving a clear water bottle. She looked at Stephanie dazed body, a wild, manic gleam in her eyes.
She quickly uncapped the bottle and began dousing the table. It wasn't water; it was gasoline. The acrid smell, even from the luxury box, was noticeable.
Stephanie, now using the ropes to stand up, was oblivious to the table’s transformation.
Sabrina reached into her bra and pulled out a simple match. She struck it on the turnbuckle post. The stadium lights seemed to dim as all eyes focused on the tiny, fragile flame.
Sabrina tossed the match onto the gasoline-soaked table.
WHOOSH!
The table ignited in a terrifying, beautiful column of fire.
Luke’s control snapped. “NO! SABRINA!” he yelled, pushing past Jack, nearly falling over the railing.
Jim and Jack grabbed him, pulling him back. “Luke! Hey! She knows what she’s doing! Trust her!” Jim commanded.
Sabrina didn't hesitate. She looked at the champion from the outside. Stephanie was now standing her eyes still dazed, and Sabrina took this opportunity to run into the ring, running to the opposite ropes, rebounded, catching Stephanie by the waist over the middle rope, and delivered the single craziest, most dangerous move imaginable: A Sunset Flip Powerbomb INTO THE TABLE THAT’S ON FIRE!
The impact was bone-shaking. The table disintegrated in a flash and a crash. Both women collapsed amid the smoke and embers, the fire quickly dying out.
Sabrina, fueled by rage, scrambled to stand first, she grabbed Stephanie and threw her in the ring as she’s follows behind.
She grabbed the dazed Stephanie's arm, hooking it over her own head, and executed a swift, devastating maneuver—a tribute to her teacher, Alex Shelley. She delivered the Shellshock (a modified swinging cradle suplex), driving Stephanie's head violently into the mat.
The crowd erupted, recognizing the signature move of one of Detroit's own.
Luke’s voice was hoarse from screaming. “Finish her, Sabby, finish her!”
Sabrina didn't panic. She pulled herself up, her forehead still trickling blood, and looked into the camera with fierce determination. This was her home; this was her moment.
Stephanie was starting to crawl to the ropes, trying to escape. Sabrina ran to the middle ropes, rebounded off them, and came charging back toward the kneeling champion. With a final burst of adrenaline, she lifted her leg and drove her knee into Stephanie's skull with sickening force.
The Wolverine! A spiking shining wizard that laid the champion out flat, unconscious.
The referee, knowing this was it, dropped down immediately.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!!
The bell rang—a deafening, victorious clang.
“HERE IS YOUR NEW WOMEN’S WORLD CHAMPION… SABRINA SERAFINA, THE HEART OF DETROIT!”
Luke had crumpled back into his seat. He wasn't crying over the title, or the spectacle; he was crying from sheer, overwhelming relief that she was alive, safe, and victorious.
He wiped his eyes furiously, pretending he was just sweating. His best friend, Ethan put an arm around him. “See? We told you. She’s fine. A total lunatic, but fine.”
“Yeah,” Luke whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
—
The ref helped sabrina sit up, handing her the title while he exited to check on Stephanie. The title was immediately brought to her chest as Sabrina leaned over crying into it. The ring was surrounded by the entire locker room who had rushed out to celebrate. The stadium was a chaotic, joyful mess.
Her trainers, Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin, climbed into the ring. Shelley immediately went to Sabrina, checking her wounds, hugging her gently, and talking softly into her ear to distract her from the pain and the immediate surroundings.
As Alex kept Sabrina focused on the moment, Chris, with his Tag Team Championship draped over his shoulder, slipped out of the ring and made his way through the celebrating chaos at ringside.
He walked past the steel steps, eyes scanning the crowd until he spotted the familiar faces in the front row, the same ones who looked about two minutes away from having heart attacks during the match.
Sabin grinned, giving a quick head nod to Jim, and pointed toward the ring. Jim, beaming, immediately understood the cue.
Sabin grabbed Luke first, pulling him into a quick, respectful side-hug. “Come on, kid. Time to earn that title of ‘Boyfriend of the Champ.’ Get in there.”
Luke, wiping the final traces of tears from his face, was filled with a sudden, powerful surge of adrenaline. He climbed over the barricade, followed closely by his parents, Jim and Ellen, his brothers, Jack and Quinn, and their group of friends.
Sabin ushered them all into the ring through the bottom rope.
Shelley had just turned Sabrina to face the crowd, holding her arms out wide to soak in the adoration. As she turned back around, exhausted, ready to celebrate with her trainers, she stopped dead.
Her eyes landed on Luke. He was standing in the middle of the ring, looking at her with a mix of awe, relief, and unconcealed love.
Sabrina dropped the championship belt, letting it slide down her arm, and screamed his name. She launched herself forward.
Luke caught her easily, wrapping her in his arms, her legs around his waist, spinning her slightly before setting her down gently. He buried his face in her hair—sweaty, smoky, but utterly perfect.
“You won,” he rasped against her ear, his voice still thick with emotion. “You won. I love you so much, you idiot.”
Sabrina gripped the back of his shirt so hard her knuckles were white. “I love you too. Don’t ever watch a match like that again, okay?” she laughed, the sound fragile but joyful.
She pulled back just enough to see her family—her chosen family—standing behind Luke. Ellen rushed forward to embrace her, checking the cut on her forehead with motherly concern. Jim, Jack, and Quinn followed, offering proud hugs.
Sabrin gave luke a quick kiss before grabbing the title, and her two boys, Sabin and Shelley, hands, and held it up to the roaring sky, presenting that the wwe has now been taken over by Detroit, to the tens of thousands of people in Michigan Stadium. The crowd understood—this was more than just a title; it was the ultimate homecoming.
Luke Hughes, the rising star of the New Jersey Devils, stood in the middle of a WWE ring, eyes on the toughest, bravest woman he had ever known, and realized he wouldn't trade this terrifying, beautiful chaos for anything.
Just an update cause I don't wanna let this account die. I like my blog very much, and honestly, for a good while It was the thing I was most proud of. Being able to express myself and put stuff out consistently, I mean.
Here's an OC sketch from the last... how many months? I don't even know. Jeez.
