#excellentexecution

[queenofgone]

@excellentexecution 💕🖤

[wdwctrl]

given the circumstances, things could have been so much worse. || From excellentexecution 🩷

❛ i mean ━ like, at least it wasn't glitter you know? that would've been messy!❜

[chyna9]

Joanie could feel his movement, his breath, his contemplation and then every sound the battle worn leather that had been so much, so many memories associated with it and above all so much honor make before Bret removed it, revealing his broad shoulders and slid it over hers.

It was slightly oversized on her but fit nicely on her muscular form nonetheless, accentuating her strong figure even more. As it slid over her shoulders, her back, her arms; Joanie could almost feel a sense of history sweep over her. But along with that, it was a declaration. Of incredible trust and above all, love.

She had asked and he had given her just what she wanted.

This was no different than a man giving a woman the world.

The jacket bore warmth that was very Bret. Having been worn by him over the years. The man had just given a piece of his soul to her. As he spoke about how it was hers and all that it had been through, Joanie beamed at Bret, looking up at him and blushing, practically turning pink.

"You know...." She murmured, wrapping herself in the jacket and then gathering his arms and wrapping them over her. "....this means the world to me. It doesn't need any fancy logos or fashion label names or whatever. All that I care about is the fact that the jacket is yours. It's you. When I have this with me, when I'm wearing this....I'll always know that I'll have you with me even if we're away from each other and that's more than enough to help me to get by....especially in the world we're both thrust in by forces of fate."

A sigh, wistful one it was came out of her lips.

"Stahp! You're making me blush now. But maybe we should click a picture of us together once we're done with shopping and now that you're without a jacket, I'm going to get you one!" She exclaimed, lightening the mood but the truth was, she was choking from inside from the emotion.

For the first time, she could truly feel a sense of belonging with a man.

"You know, that's what everyone will say about me. They wouldn't believe that the hardass that I am, the 9th Wonder of the World, the biggest ball buster in the world of wrestling is a complete mush in hands of Bret Hart....all their barbs over the years about being a man, being too muscular, you make them forget me. You make me feel like I belong. That I'm normal. That I can love and be loved. You complete me Bret..."

She whispered those words, sweet her tone was, laden with emotion and unconditional love.

"Now are we just going to stand here or you're going to take a girl for shopping or not?" She nudged Bret playfully.

chyna9

The blush on Bret’s face, oh dear…it was so awfully cute. Bret was a big man. Not just in size but more so in his stature. With his leadership abilities, capacity to take on so many things and always being there for people that mattered in his life, he was simply put larger than life.

Thus, to see him melt at mere three words uttered by her was still both amusing and adorable for Joanie. A thin smile tugged at her lips.

“Do you have any idea how cute you look right now?” She whispered, leaning further into Bret, a dreamy look in her eyes.

The drinks were clinked against each other and downed. A content sigh escaped Joanie’s lips at that. One that wasn’t borne out of the drink but more due to Bret’s company and what their future together meant. Oh she had enjoyed the drink, felt its sweetness followed by a spicy punch and then percolation of its sweet taste once again. In many ways like the way their relationship had come up to be.

She knew there will be talk. Hell, there was talk already. That she was going to be Yoko Ono of DX and all sorts of things. But Joanie hadn’t let that affect her. All her life people had talked about her and she had decided at one point that she would no longer think about them, their opinions, their views. That’s when Joanie had transformed into Chyna.

Yet, with Bret she knew she could be Joanie again. The cute, soft, playful, kind, friendly, humorous woman that she was and not just be Chyna 24x7. Television only gave a one dimensional perspective to people on who they were and more than that, who they could be.

But such was the curse of the WWF and of being on the opposite sides of Foundation and the D-Generation X. However, with Bret….she just knew that they would be able to find a way round it all. She just felt certain of it. More certain than about anything else she had ever been in her entire life.

His remark about boots and the jacket made her eyebrow loft up. “I’ll never say no to shopping if you’re taking me out!” Joanie murmured with a giggle.

“But yes, something warm would be nice, as much as I’d like you to hold me in your arms all the time!” Joanie gave Bret a coy wink.

“Well, take me to buy the boots then…but for jacket….” Her hand trailed over the leather jacket that Bret wore. She leaned in to take its smell in, taking in fragrance of its perfume, cheek came to rest against it.

“I want something that you would wear. I want the world to know that I’m your woman.”

Pebbled black leather against silken skin, the sun-kissed glow that surrounded Joanie, actions alone proved that her promises weren’t farces. Ridiculousness reserved for Bret, never, as her touch lingered, across the jacket and then felt by added weight, she was just as determined as he to see them through, their love story to be written within a bold, new chapter. A simple slice of Heven made just for them and none else. Never to be separated nor parted, the Hitman couldn’t let her go, arms unable to release from around Chyna’s waist. Firmer did they become in their hold upon her - sinfully possessive yet gentle all the same - either hand of his placed onto her hips. Squeezing and massaging the flesh there, forever was Bret ready to hold Joanie in his embrace. Could practically feel her warmth pressed so close, like two puzzle pieces meant to be placed. Perfect in every shape and form and mold to one another. Halves of a shared heart and soul - Calgary didn’t seem so far and distant. As if it were circa to both that blessed moment and the shabby bar, Bret could feel that destined peace with Joanie as if it were already within his grasp, within his fingers that caressed his lover so. He could just taste the sweetness of their planned serenity. 

Only, they needed to get through the rest of the tour. A constant struggle situated within the WWF and its vast jungle, the top of the food chain and the maggots that crawled in the dirt, a war that would never truly cease its fire. McMahon would never allow it. Feed from the spilled blood would he and his beloved boys do, Patterson and Brisco and all who wore their badges of allegiance, the Hitman and Chyna alike, both the Hart Foundation and DX. Great was the instigator that burrowed inside of Vince’s cold heart. A true wild child, someone who would more than gladly stir the simmering pot, a man who had hurt Bret and his family many, many times before. Caused them ache and pain beyond what was thought possible. Brotherhood torn apart - friends and brethren no longer - stolen memories despite the pleas, the cries that echoed from Stu and Helen and Diana who watched from afar. McMahon didn’t care. Could have a painted smile upon his face and tears in his lifeless eyes, a mask, but still would he not flinch to the agony of others, the misfortune of the Hitman. Never for Chyna, either. That was a personal baptism of fire for them each to endure. Their Hell.

Her kittenish charms skillful in capturing whatever attention she didn’t have already, between her flirtations and her spoken desires, Bret could not stand to be still, merely holding Joanie like a gelid statue, stiff and inflexible. To be called cute was a compliment not lightly received. Never to be disregarded or unwelcomed, usually it was Owen or Wayne or Ross who were praised as such. Dean, before the cruel hands of time and reckless choices killed him, too, Bret never so often hailed. Perhaps too shy to have even been told - the quietest of the Hart sons - awkward and afraid and distracted still despite his age. Maybe never able to get used to the idea, hearing his sweetheart think so of him brightened the smile already upon his face. Eased the nerves with a little help from the drink that still warmed the belly, made the Hitman feel good about himself. From the mouth of a goddess. Bouquets that proclaimed with pride, not a single brickbat to be found between the lines, though he wished to have kissed her senseless in that moment, steal the breath from her lungs away, a jacket seemed just as befitting a display of gratitude, love.

Bret would have given Joanie the stars. Plucked each of the grand constellations straight out of the sky just for her, if she so asked of him to, the moon and the sun and all the planets. An entire universe to be hers and hers alone, from broad shoulders did a special leather jacket fall. An old remembrance of yesteryear - there was damage done and some small white scratches along either arm sleeve - when the only thing that mattered was making the British Bulldogs whimper like frightened puppies. A relic that had served Bret well but had seen its service through, from his body to hers did he pass the leather, over Joanie’s shoulders with the collar adjusted just right, fixed until it was perfect for her. His hands gone from her hips but not exactly lonely, with the palm of his right hand did he flatten out the edges, the creases and stitches. Nodding in approval at how gorgeous she looked in it, it was, in the very least, a pleasant start to her own collection. 

“It’s yours now.” 

Bret bloomed, admiring his masterpiece. “It’s not fancy, it doesn’t have any sort of logo or special symbol ironed onto it, but that jacket has seen many places and people alongside me. It’s been a part of me for a long time, y’know. I want you to have it, Joanie. You said you wanted one. And I want to give this one to you now. It would mean so much to me to see you wearing it. It would be an honor.”

“Y’know, you look so beautiful in it. Better than I ever did, like it was made for you. You really are my woman now. All the same, though, that would make me your man. I like the way that it sounds. I’m yours, dearest. God, I’m yours, and I don’t care who knows it! God, Joanie. Look at what you’ve done to me. If Owen saw me now, I’d never hear the end of it.”

[jeffreyhardy]

Hello, my friends!

Thank you for taking the time to write with me! For those who don't know me, my name is Kennzie and I have been writing on this wonderful site for about 6 years (wow!). If you have found yourself on this blog, then don't be scared. This is just my main blog for my RP accounts - all of which are secondary blogs - and serves primarily as a hub and holding place for them, along with OOC interactions. I have provided links in the drop-down menu for all of my RP. My muses include Bret Hart (of WWF, WCW, and WWE television), Brian Pillman (of WCW and WWF television), and Shane Walsh (of The Walking Dead series). Specific rules and such things are included on each individual blog, and I highly encourage you to check them out, if you're interested.

Thank you again! I look forward to writing with you!

@excellentexecution (RP for Bret)

@hollywoodcannon (RP for Brian)

@deputygonebye (RP for Shane)

**Mature/NSFW theme may be present. Discretion is advised. Minors do not interact.

[niccolahiromithomas]

@excellentexecution​:  ⭐️ + Bret

Send me ⭐️ + a name, and I’ll write a drabble between that person and my muse! 

Bret had wanted cake but she had wanted cookies. Logan had wanted cookies and little Brianna had wanted cake. And so Niccola was tasked to come up with a compromise that would satisfy everyone’s craving while not giving the matriarch, herself, too much work during the busiest baking season of the year. 

Truly, had it had been any other time of year, she would have pulled out all the baking dishes and supplies needed to bake a cake and a few batches of cookies but she was already making several pies, batches of cookies, and cakes that weren’t for her family to consume. And as much as she loved appeasing her own family, she also knew she was limited in energy to spend in that moment even with help.

So while she worked through her baking chore list, preparing treats that would be given out as gifts to other homes, the Irishwoman thought over the recipe in her head. A tweak here, an addition there, an adjustment in size here, and then some added time there...it might work? It should work!

What was to come out of the experiment would become one of the Hitman’s absolute favorite holiday treats. It ate like a cookie though had a texture similar to a cake with fluffy frosting to match. He craved it so much that several times during the year he would beg and plead for her to make him a batch to enjoy though she swore she would only make them during the holidays. 

“I have to give the kids something to look forward to. You as well! If you know it will only come during the holidays, it makes it that much more special when you have it,” she would explain, though that wouldn’t stop the sweets lover from continuing on his mission to seduce her into making him some.

...and she would never admit that he had worked her out so well in bed once, playfully begging for her to make him some of the treats, that she did finally cave in the respect that she just wouldn’t make the snickerdoodle flavor except on the holidays. And so the mocha expresso and chai flavored varieties were created several weeks later. After all, a lady does have to keep some integrity.  

[risesabove]

@excellentexecution // continued !

in the end, they had all got what they wanted, hadn’t they? the nexus had been a thorn in the side of the roster for months now, making their presence felt through carnage and mayhem. the message had been simple enough: fall in line or get crushed beneath their boot, and not many among them had been so lucky to come out of those attacks unscathed. for one night only, they were the vanguard set to rewrite the script and alter the landscape that had become fraught with danger. they had won, those aligned with john, and though adam knows he should feel some sense of pride in righting the wrongs of those who had stepped out of line, the only feeling that he could seem to conjure up was… emptiness. they weren’t friends — they were common allies and nothing else, and there was no sense in pretending otherwise.

after the final bell rings and cena’s hand is raised in victory, the mood in the locker room is far too jovial for adam to bear. not bothering with packing up his gear for now, he’d come back for it once most of the boys had cleared out. he needed some space to clear his head and allow the adrenaline rush to crash and bring him back down to earth. he’d fought well tonight, he knows that, but there was a part of him lately that kept being drawn back to the same question: how much was he leaving on the table every night, and why?

it was surprisingly cool in LA that night… or maybe it was just that the venue was stuffy, or his blood was running a little too hot — whatever it was, the fresh air was an instant relief to the inner turmoil he suddenly found was trying to force its way out. was it selfish of him? this business, this life — it was everything he had worked and sacrificed for, had given him so much in return for his blood, sweat, tears, and soul, but he couldn’t help wondering how much he had left. chris would tell him that everyone has these thoughts, but they’re stupid and there was no use in dwelling on them, and perhaps he was right.

from behind him, a door opens at the same time the statement leaves his mouth. of course someone would’ve come looking for him; it had only a matter of time, and if he had to, he would simply brush off the existential feeling as emotion getting the best of him, even if that wasn’t quite the truth. dropping his chin to his chest, adam’s shoulders slouch forward slightly, as if in preparation for whatever was coming next. chris unleashing his pent up frustration over being taken out so early, probably, or maybe if he was really lucky, it would be the nexus to put his face through the windshield of stephanie’s rental car.

it was neither, and adam wasn’t sure if that was better or worse; the violence was easy, and he had learned how to tune chris out. bret… well, that was far more difficult. when bret spoke, he listened, even if it wasn’t always what he wanted to hear. realizing that bret had actually heard him, adam looks over his shoulder with a curious gaze before allowing his attention to drift back to the night sky. “friends, family, lovers… they all come and go, but this is always waiting for us like a cruel mistress, knowing we’ll come crawling back for more because we can’t help ourselves.” there’s a sad smile ghosting along his mouth, and he wants to ask bret if maybe it would’ve been easier to leave if he hadn’t gone out with a chip on his shoulder…

but he hesitates, and instead, concern fills the space between them. just listening to bret, adam works his teeth against the inside of his cheek for a moment, brow furrowed as his stare settles on twinkling lights off in the distance. he knew what chris was and he wasn’t blind to it. that partner of his had shown his true colors time and time again, and only a fool would allow themselves to get wrapped up in him and fall for false promises like loyalty. he knew the type of monster chris was, because he was so much worse.

turning his head to look at bret once again, adam works his fingers through sweat-dampened hair, subtle amusement lighting up his features. “how do you know i’m not manipulating him?” the question comes out gentle; bret wasn’t a target of his hostility and he’d done nothing to draw his ire. besides that, bret might be the only person who could speak to him this way and actually knock some sense into his thick skull. respect was a funny thing like that. “eleven years, he and i—“ he starts, then stops, shaking his head to himself. “i know what chris is capable of, hitman. first opportunity he gets, he’ll be there to put a knife in my back.”

straightening his shoulders, adam’s next words come out as confident as he’d felt all night, lethal and to the point: “it’ll be just a little difficult to accomplish with mine pressed to his throat.”

[chyna9]

“ i really want to kiss you right now. “ // From Bret. <3

Joanie was sitting in the bar of the hotel room. To a quick glance her appearance would've been a shock. Gone was the perpetual black attire, the monochrome. Instead she was sporting a light pink top with matching yoga pants of a brighter shade.

That in itself was a vivid indicator that this was Joanie and not Chyna as the world had solely come to see her as.

After the eventful night, she just felt she needed to get away from prying eyes, to be herself.

She had hurt the family of the man she loved.

For the umpteenth time.

Lost in her thoughts with a simple fruit punch, the world had become a blur for her. They had scheduled a meeting, using their Pagers.

But still the words surprised her when they hit her eardrums as she felt the jacket ensconce her. The warm hands that came around taking her in a protective embrace.

Joanie was a woman that didn't need anyone's protection and she took pride in that. Hell, she was the one protecting others. But there were exceptions.

This was an exception.

A soft, content sigh escaped he lips. The guilt, the woes forgotten. Suddenly she felt at peace.

Slowly she turned to the side, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

"Will you? Please?" She asked in a soft tone, her hand had come to rest over his in a gentle touch.

@excellentexecution

[texasrcttlesnake]

@excellentexecution​ / continued.

steve is incredulous. it wasn't as if the hart foundation hadn't had it coming. he'd done the world a favor. bret could call it senseless american violence until he turned blue in the face, but he figured himself a hero. most weren't brave enough to stand in the way of such an unstoppable force. steve austin was not most people.

you put one guy in a wheelchair and break another guy's ankle and suddenly you're the bad guy... how unfortunate. 

fingers flex around the microphone in his grasp and a menacing smile cracks through his features. he wouldn’t hesitate to lay hands on bret again if it seemed that the odds weren't in his favor. hell, he'd lay hands on bret if he just got bored enough with this little dog and pony show. he didn't need much of a reason to bust his knuckles across the canadian's face. he'd bust bret's head open in a box, he'd bust bret's head open with a fox. it didn't matter.

"well, if that don't just break my heart. goddamn, son, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"

[queenofgone]

💬 || From excellentexecution 🩷

@excellentexecution

"Greatest. Uncle. EVER!"

[niccolahiromithomas]

@excellentexecution @hollywoodcannon

Singin’ in the Rain (1952) dir. Gene Kelly & Stanley Donen

[twcbelts]

   "  ___   they   say   it's     lonely   at   the   top    .  .  .   but  it  feels    even   lonelier    on    the    way    there   . "   ;  @excellentexecution​   gets    a   one   liner .

[niccolahiromithomas]

@excellentexecution​:   "Happy Birthday, darling. You've always said that I spoil you on days like this, every day, really, so this year, I tried to keep presents simple. They're edible flowers from Ireland. You can use them for cooking, bathing, anything, least that's what the nice sales lady told me. You always liked the natural stuff, y'know. The kids made you strawberry cupcakes. I also picked up a little jewelry for you, too. It's upstairs in a ring box. Next to the new lavender lotion bottle."

Happy Birthday to the Twins’ - 2022

She was transported home as soon as she opened the container. Memories of running through the flower meadows surrounding her childhood home passing through her mind as the floral notes filled her senses. It was a thoughtful gift, one that brought her homeland to her. He knew her so well. She never had to tell him what she needed or when. Sometimes she wondered if he truly could read her mind, telepathy a supernatural skillset that he hadn’t disclosed to her that he had. Either way, Bret knew how to make her feel absolutely adored and spoiled, especially on her birthday. Even when he said he was keeping it ‘simple’! If jewelry from the Excellence in Execution could ever be simple.

“I am sure I am going to give myself a bit of a tummy ache if those cupcakes are as delicious as last year’s batch! I hope they remembered to make two dozen this year because, my GODS, the vanilla dream ones were truly so good. I wonder where they got those baking skills from, hmm?” the Irishwoman muses outloud with a mischievous grin as she places the lid back on the petal container. 

She can’t help but press her body against her husband’s, her arms draping around his shoulders to tug his taller form down so she can claim his lips in a tender, love filled kiss. “Thank you, my love. You are being absolutely wonderful to me and making my day just that much more special. I can’t wait to try out these petals in a bath that I can share with you later tonight...and maybe you can use that new lotion to rub me down afterwards. After all, I know how much you love your hands all over me.”

The wicked smirk that curled her lips told him everything he needed to know about what she expected after her rubdown...

[twcbelts]

another title defense match, another monday evening full of excitement, adrenaline, and what was that creeping in? anxiety threatened to wrap it's tendrils around the mind of the double champ, but bret's kindly spoken words are enough to at least temporarily silence the voices. the closer it seemed her and natalya got, the better friends her and the hitman seemed to become as well. time ticked away, only an hour and a half until raw would be in full swing. smackdown belt is secured around her waist, she smiles at him through the mirror.

" thanks, that . . . that means the world t' me. " if she's choked up, she tries her best not to show it. " i feel good, " simple statement, but severely undercuts what's truly going on inside. she nods, assured as she recalls their many pep talks. " yeah, yeah, i got this. "

||

@twcbelts asked: ❛ thanks for being here with me. ❜ ahh hi i missed you so

Soft and Sweet Sentence Starters.

Becky was many things. A thorn in the side of those who sought her titles, the enemies, a companion for the few who gained her trust. A rival that had seen war against the Hart family, Natalya the warrior woman who flew the familial flag, battles of the past ceased once the Hitman had gotten to know her better. Spoke to Becky as an equal rather than an outsider - their chats seemed to last for hours whenever they began - cared for her just as he would've one of his own. A friend found in a very strange place, stranger still despite having formed the foundations to the WWE, Bret was ever grateful. Was always there for Becky, at her greatest moments, he was not far from her. Supporter and mentor all in one; a cheerleader who led the crowds of many whenever victory found its way to Becky. Even if he didn't always agree with her methods, the persons she kept close to herself or where she decided to travel in morality, never was the Hitman distant.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world, Becky."

Bret replied, a sideways smile decorating his features, "y'know, it's not everyday that the WWE ends up here. This, this is a historic moment, even if it doesn't feel like it now. You're gonna be a part of something bigger than the company, bigger than yourself. How do you feel? You remember what we've been talking about? Don't worry. Just keep your chin up, Beck. You'll do just fine."

___

[chyna9]

[ TOUCH ] // From the Hitman to the 9th Wonder of the World. <3

The presser was exciting as always. But then again, when they were not? The big build up to the Survivor Series was happening. Heated words being exchanged. It was the clash of titans but also it was a clash of ideologies as Hart Foundation were to go against the Degenerates.

As ever, Joanie had found herself in middle of it all.

How could she not? She was the silent enforcer after all. A human tornado that moved in and left a trail of destruction whenever it was required. The ultimate insurance policy.

Shawn and Hunter had already mocked Owen and Bret and when Owen, always the short tempered one had tried to push Jim Ross out of the way and have some action right there itself, Joanie...no, Chyna had stepped in.

Silent.

Dangerous.

The Great Wall of Chyna.

A cold look hung in her eyes. One that spoke of focus, of grit. This was a woman who wasn't afraid of being one of the boys. Of getting her hands dirty if situation demanded so. Silently she shook her head.

Bret was next to Owen and obscured by barricade as audience hooted and cheered, suddenly her fingers brushed his...and in an instant, they held each others hands.

It was as if a jolt of electricity had hit Joanie. She gazed at Bret.

Meaningful it was. To be understood only by him. Lasting merely couple of seconds. But that had conveyed more than a million words would have been able to do.

Squeezing his hand a little she let go of it and raised her hand up, doing a cut throat gesture at Owen, rather at the Hart Foundation.

But in reality, her own heart had already been won over by Bret.

And his by hers.

A truth that would need its time to become public. However, the touch had sparked something.

A desire for a conclusion. Desire to stop doing everything in secret. Desire to live for themselves instead of for these rivalries.

And she wasn't going to rest until she had that.

@excellentexecution

[mainevcnt]

@excellentexecution​ // continued!

only in quiet moments was the full scope of the brutality felt. once the adrenaline from the fight had worn off and the adoring fans had all gone home, pride could only placate aches and pains for so long before they were eventually surrendered to. it had been a rough go this time around; a week-long stretch of tough opponents and stiff battles, and even the most hardened among them were beginning to show signs of wear. perhaps not admitted to and just maybe never would, but all the tells were present.

it was a one-off suggestion that he wasn't expecting bret to agree to. "i just wanna go home and get in the bath," mumbled in the locker room as they stood across from each other packing up for the night. it was hardly the hitman's style, his preference for being alone to analyze and plan taking priority after every show. shawn was content to allow bret his space, so there was no opportunity to hide his surprise when the hitman agreed to join him.

perpetually the caretaker in their arrangement (whatever anyone had to say about their shared room they could keep to themselves. it wasn't their business and shawn couldn't give a shit what anyone had to say.) clothes were stripped and gathered into a pile while bret ran the water, merely offering a suggestion to make it scalding while listening to the sound of the running faucet.

stripped bare and with his hair left to cascade down his shoulders, he's the first to climb into the tub with bret's assistance. the force of vader and every other man who'd come before him that week was settling in now, weighing heavy on his body as shoulders slid beneath the surface of the water. it's a distant thought that if he hadn't been so exhausted, he could've put more effort into it. bubbles and soothing oils and candles just to make bret roll his eyes at how over the top he could be. such as it was, it was a miracle they'd both managed to make it there in one piece.

a soft hum of acknowledgment is offered as he pushes back up, allowing room for bret to sink into the water with him. gazing at the hitman beneath the fluorescent lights, it was hard not to see the marks stone cold had left behind. the son of a bitch packed a mean punch and had apparently decided that bret was going to pay for every bad thing that had ever happened to him.

hands cradle his hips and shawn offers no resistance as he's pulled closer, sinking into the warmth of bret's chest and letting his eyes drift shut as he's fussed over. a soft cloth is drawn along his jaw and it's chased with an even softer kiss, the familiarity between them so strong that it nearly takes his breath away. it wasn't the first time bret had been left to clean him up after a fight; with the way things were going, it would hardly be the last. no matter the circumstances that led them to that point, the care in the hitman's touch was treasured and never taken for granted.

"i'm starting to think i pissed someone off. can you believe that? little old me?"

soothed by the water and bret's gentle caress, his eyes flutter open after a moment and he gives a mirthless snort. "i can hold my own." there's no weight behind it save for maintaining his own ego. delicate as he felt now in bret's embrace, vader was nothing he couldn't handle... but maybe, after their third fight this week, he was man enough to admit it had worn him down.

"a little," he says, voice soft. "careful with my ribs. fucker got a good shot in." twisting in bret's arms after a moment, shawn reaches for an identical cloth left on the side of the tub. dampened beneath the warm water, he draws it up to begin working on bret's neck.

"what about you? seems like austin’s trying to make you regret ever being born." the cloth runs gentle down bret's chest and a frown pushes to his face over bruises beginning to take form across tanned skin. "you piss in his beer or something?”

[queenofgone]

"Happy Birthday, Nattie! I know I must sound like a broken record, but you truly are the greatest niece a man like me could ask for. You make me proud every day, and I just know you'll do great as part of the RAW roster. Keep your chin up, give them hell. I love you very much." || From excellentexecution 🩷🖤

@excellentexecution

"How could the best Canadian who ever lived in the history of Canada sound like a broken record? Impossible! No, but I really really do try to make you and our family proud of me. Thanks, Uncle. I'll always love you more!"