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Planet Stasiak (WWE)

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[wintfleur]

𓈒 ୭ৎ ˖˙ ᰋ ── JULIETTE LECLERC PROFILE !

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

ᡣ𐭩 BASICS .��

name: Juliette Celeste Leclerc 

nicknames:

Julie (everyone) 

Lettie (family and close friends) 

jules (everyone) 

ette (brothers( 

lilo (her best friends) 

juliebug (mat and quinn) 

birthday and zodiac: November 15th 1999, Scorpio

location: Monte Carlo, Monaco (birthplace, current) 

ᡣ𐭩 ABOUT  .ᐟ

personality: julie has a complex personality, some say it resembled an onion; you have to pull back the layers before truly understanding her. The media and new people assume that she's cold, and honestly a bitch just because they truly don't know her. But in reality, she's honestly a very sweet person, she is on the quiet side, she's very confident in herself and her beliefs. She is very charming, charismatic, and flirty! When she's around the people she's comfortable with, she can be a little bubbly and giggily (mostly with mat and quinn). She has a very dry humor but it honestly just makes people love her more! Can be very sarcastic at times, is witty 

good traits: determined, loyal, hard-working, honest and loyal, protective of her family and friends, trustful, doesn't take shit from anyone 

bad traits: very self critical, can be too bold, brutal at times, distances herself when she's overwhelmed or emotionally hurt, 

quirks: having a resting bitch face, intense eye contact, spaces out when bored, rolls eyes, smiles sarcastically, 

likes: rain, musicals, going to ballets, trying out new restaurants, ranch life, swimming, buying swimsuits, her yacht, spending time with family, hot tubs, sightseeing, 

dislikes: rude and invasive fans, the paparazzi, stalkers, people who disrespect her family or friends, most f1 media, drive to survive, traffic 

hobbies: singing, running, baking, dancing, riding horses, music, hockey, playing tennis and golf, reading, journaling 

fears: being a failure, dying alone 

strengths: how hard-working she is, she never gives up, confident, tactical and her strategy, how smart and witty she is, her quick thinking 

weaknesses: perfectionism, talking about her feelings, self critical, can have a short fuse at times, 

languages spoken: 100% French, 100% English, 100% Korean, 36% Spanish. 

occupation/profession: f1 driver for redbull, singer, model, actress 

ᡣ𐭩 CAREER !

Profession  f1 driver

Team   Red Bull Racing

Debut Australia 2019

Trainer  Gabriel Guerrero

Race engineer   Théo Beaufoy

Manager  Anya DuPont

Assistant  Beatrice Roux

World championships   1 (2022)

Sponsors  Gucci

ᡣ𐭩 RELATIONSHIPS  .ᐟ

parents:

Hervé Leclerc 

Pascale Leclerc 

sibling(s):

Lorenzo Leclerc 

Charles Leclerc 

Arthur Leclerc 

best friends: max verstappen. lando norris, george russell, alex albon, hailee steinfeld, shawn mendes, victoria de angelis, lily rose depp

friends: most of the f1 grid, most of quinn and mat’s teammates, jack and luke hughes, ross lynch, zendaya, tom holland, lewis pillman, and many more 

love interest: Mathew Barzal and Quinn hughes 

pet(s): none yet 

ᡣ𐭩 MORE .ᐟ

scent: she has a large collection of different fragrances, from brand deals, pr, etc. she prefers aromatic fragrances, so she uses mostly Chanel and Gucci perfumes, her most used one is Chanel number 2, it's one of her signature scents!

outfits: it really depends on what she's doing, if it’s a casual day she likes wearing low waisted jeans, corset vest tops, mini skirts, sweaters, sundresses, it really depends! She loves wearing black, reds, and earth tones! She likes adding fishnets, lace and tights to her outfits, long scarfs, jean or leather jackets, she likes wearing blazers, definitely has an office siren aesthetic! She has a lot of clothes and she's always wanting to try something new, and is definitely known for her fantastic outfits! here's a link to her closet! 

accessories:  she loves accessorizing, she loves anything involving fashion really!! She has a large collection of different types of bags and sunglasses(she loves collecting them), they are definitely her favorite thing + jewelry, to accessorize with. She also has quite a lot of hats, mostly ball caps, beanies and berets. She also really loves utilizing long and thin scarves when she's wearing a short skirt or shorts. She also occasionally will wear a headband, heavily inspired by Blair waldorf. In the colder weather she's almost always rocking ear muffs. She absolutely loves wearing bayonetta glasses, she has so many pairs. Honorable mentions are leg and arm warmers. 

jewelry: she's a silver girl!  She loves rings, she usually has about four on at a time, small ones, chunky ones, one with crystals or gems, any type of rings really.  She loves layering necklaces. She also occasionally wears anklets and waist chains, it really depends on her outfit. With bracelets she wears all different types, charm bracelets, friendship bracelets, cuff bracelets, again it really depends on her outfit. 

makeup: isn't really the biggest fan of makeup, she prefers her bare face! She has her own personal makeup artist who does her makeup for her when she goes to events etc. but when she does do her own makeup, she really only does her eyes and lips! She prefers darker eye makeup, red or nude tones for her lips, sharp eyeliner and highlighter! 

scars: none 

sexuality: bisexual 

Height: 5’7

piercing(s): 1 in each ear, bellybutton

tattoo(s): she has this one on her lower back, and this one on her left arm. She wants to get more! 

face claim: Dua Lipa 

ᡣ𐭩 FAVORITES .ᐟ

food(s): pasta, sweets, almonds, pomegranates, cherries, steak, macaroons

drink(s): cherry coke, water, redbull, hot chocolate, shirley temples 

color(s): black, reds, earth tones 

animal(s): horses, cats, sloths 

bands and artist: måneskin, rihanna, ciara, lady gaga, gwen stefani, the weekend 

show(s): gossip girl, supernatural, game of thrones, criminal minds 

movie(s): the devil wears prada, scooby doo, mamma mia, lotr, twilight, 

person: her mom and younger brother arthur 

ᡣ𐭩 BACKGROUND  .ᐟ

julie was born on a rainy day in monaco, on november 15th, 1999

julie was a very quiet child, her parents worried that she would have trouble making friends so they put her in ballet when she was 5. 

julie was naturally very talented at ballet and she enjoyed it very much

she started karting when she was 6, still also doing ballet

she started equestrian sports when she was 12 and stopped when she was 15. 

julie quit ballet when she was 17, giving karting/driving all her attention. 

she had her debut in in f1, in 2019 for the team mercedes 

It was a fantastic year, she got four wins and 326 points. 

but she left Mercedes after one year, signing with redbull. 

in 2020 she dropped her first single 

she created her youtube channel in 2020, she now has surpassed 10 million followers 

her modeling career started in 2022, and it instantly kicked off, becoming a very successful and sought after model 

ᡣ𐭩 FUN FACTS  .ᐟ

Juliette drove for Mercedes in her rookie year, she got four wins and 326 points . . . fans of course were not happy that a female was dominating her rookie year, so of course a nasty rumor was created. The rumor that spread like hot fire was that Juliette was having an inappropriate relationship with Toto Wolff.

Which was false, Toto was like a father figure to Juliette but the fans didn’t care, booing her and trending hate for her on Twitter.

Juliette drove for Redbull for the next season, and is still driving for Redbull.

Juliette is known for being one of the most influential drivers on the grid, for the wide range of her career.

Juliette has dropped a few albums, some singles and ep’s, she’s a model, an ambassador for Gucci, and she has a YouTube channel with over 10 million subscribers, where she posts all different kinds of content, she’s walked on runways.

The interviewers love her (besides a few) a lot of fans say she’s like seb with how she has the habit of flirting with the female interviewers.

She is quite the flirt, confident with herself

She’s a party girl, in a club or on a yacht, she loves her parties !!

A lot of people assume she’s a bitch because of her resting face, her confidence and the way she doesn’t take any shit, but she’s genuinely a sweetheart.

Besides Lewis she is the driver that has the most celebrity friends

No one is surviving eye contact with her, in the words of lando “she has a really strong gaze, very alluring — like a siren yeah”

The amount of dating rumors Lando and Juliette have is insane, but they are simply just best friends !!!

She loves swimming, she loves visiting tropical places

Everyone swears she’s a mermaid/siren for her love of the water

She has stated many times that her favorite sport besides f1 is hockey.

She has been seen coming to many hockey games, even having many friends that are hockey players.  (Trevor Zegras, Cole caufield and more)

She loves baking

She owns several houses all over the world

She is a major passenger princess

SHE IS THE IT GIRL

She hates coffee

She definitely loves going out and partying, but she also loves staying in.

She was such a daddy’s girl

She talks to her mom every single day

She loves and I mean loves running

No matter how hungover she is, she’s always having her morning run.

She loves and I mean loves horses !!

Her dream is to retire, buy her own ranch and just get a ton of horses to take care of and love, maybe her own vineyard.

Her most prized possession is her yacht . . .  That’s crazy to say omg.

She has kept all of her relationships a secret!

She loves doing collaborations

A character she’s most like is Blair waldorf

She’s a very strong woman, but sometimes things really get to her and she just needs space.

She has a bad habit of distancing herself from others when she’s hurt or upset

She’s been to 3 met galas

She will kick anyone’s ass in golf

‘The princess of Monaco’

She is very open about her crush on leighton meester

She’s a switch

She has a great relationship with everyone on the grid !

Her and Pierre have a love hate relationship

She has such a flirty personality, she loves making people flustered.

She’s a fantastic driver, and won’t let anyone tell her different just because she’s a girl.

She has said her grid son is ollie bearman

Yuki loves her sm! They are such a underrated duo

She loves hockey, but she’s a terrible skater

She hates drive to survive, they like to make her and max look like the villain.

She secretly can’t stand one driver on the grid.

She loves sleep sm

She’s genuinely such a family girl

She was the troublemaker of her family

She hates cold feet

Her brother’s friends have always had a crush on her and she loved teasing them about it.

She keeps her music taste a secret from the public

Lewis will always have her back no matter what, she’s his grid kid.

The public goes crazy for post race Juliette

She loves her team, she’s extremely close to all of them !!

She alternates from black to red hair a lot, but her hair is very healthy !!!

Doesn’t go anywhere without a pair of sunglasses

Macaroons are the way to her heart

A lot of people get surprised by how friendly she is

She loves game of thrones

She is not a lightweight

Is a really good dancer !! Did ballet for a long time

Low waisted pants are her best friend.

The only one who can rock Jorts

Always has red or black nails

She’s a silver girly

Has a private Instagram ‘@/lettiesworld’

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lovings4turn )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( so this is the introduction to juliette !! I really hope you guys like her, omg I’m so excited for this AU !!! I didn’t mention Mat and Quinn because they will have their own profile !!! Oh I’m so excited, please let me know what you guys think !!! )

©️WINTFLEUR

[philtstone]

Shawn/Juliet, "holding hands under the table"

i cant actually find which number it is from this list of prompts but that could just be my brain being fried from the week. also, everyone can feel free to send me more prompts lol. strike while the iron is hot, etc. this might be the most sedate tone i've ever hit with a psych fic. set immediately after the s5 finale -- like, hours after -- and hopefully the characters are all at the right place, emotionally. theres definitely a bit of a grey zone there in s5-6 where a lot is left unsaid but kind of known but also kind of not known. oh, jules.

She asks Lassiter to give her a ride because she probably shouldn’t be driving with a recent head injury. EMTs said no concussion, which is a good thing, but Juliet feels shaken enough that she’s going to do the intelligent, grown up woman thing and ask a friend for a favor.

She can’t help but wonder if maybe she does have a concussion after all, because Carlton behaves extremely fucking weirdly for pretty much the entirety of the drive.

Considering it’s Carlton, that’s really saying something.

“Vick gave me Shawn and Gus’s check,” she says as smoothly as she can, as they get in the car. It’s not entirely a lie, but it does feel oddly duplicitous in a way that holding hands with Shawn under the briefing table earlier didn’t. “Can you drop me off at the house?”

“House?” says her usually gruff partner, high-pitched. She’d caught him at the last second and kind of serendipitously, right as he was making his way out of the station, looking spooked, his jacket only half-on. At the time Juliet felt relieved, but now she’s wondering if maybe he’d needed some time to decompress before being made responsible for another person’s safety again. “What house? Spencer’s house? Doesn’t he live in a laundromat?”

“Henry’s house,” Juliet says, giving him a weird look while he turns the car on. His right eye is twitching. It’s possible that the evening’s events shook him more than he’s willing to admit; wouldn’t be the first time. “Gus told me they headed over there for the night. Carlton, are you alright?”

“I’m just spiffy,” he says through oddly gritted teeth, and sounds the opposite of. “One drop off, coming right up.”

Juliet decides she’ll figure it out in the morning. Her head kind of hurts, as does her elbow, and the catharsis she’d hoped to achieve through finally putting her signature down on that paper has left her a little bit shaky.

It feels good, though. She’ll probably have a good cry in the shower later on.

We did it, says Shawn’s voice in her head, so firm and final and confident. Her stomach and chest and general person are suddenly overcome with a slamming wave of affection she definitely was not prepared for. Swallowing, Juliet tucks her phone between her legs and shoots him a quick text. Wrapped up at the station.

Incoming text from SHAWN SPENCER:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BABE WITH THE POWER!!!!!!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

u gonna go home & rest?

Shawn’s texts were exuberant before they started dating, too, but the million heart emojis are a recent development. Something about their introduction makes Juliet want to clench her hands together, melt into the ground, and laugh hysterically at the same time. Shawn turns being a walking contradiction into an art form sometimes. So terrified of facing all the love he’s got to give head-on, but so reckless and sloppy about leaving a trail of it around.

Maybe that’s why she’s fallen so hard for him, Juliet thinks; it matches her inexplicable combination of extreme trust and extreme caution.

Okay. Woah. Too much. Chill out, Juliet; now’s not really the time.

Not with Carlton showing all the signs of working through a hernia in the driver’s seat beside her, mere hours after Serial Killer Takedown.

Yeah, Juliet replies to her boyfriend, then lays her head against the cool car window, closing her eyes before she can notice Carlton’s alarmed glances at her phone.

When they pull up, half the house lights are on. Clearly no one is sleeping, despite the horribly late hour. Juliet glances down at her phone again and realizes it’s pushing three in the morning. She winces. 

“Are you going to be okay driving home?” she asks, one hand on the door handle. Carlton’s staring directly out of the windshield at the house, looking aggrieved in that way that gives him the general look and demeanor of a wet cat. She really hopes he’s okay.

“Fine,” he says. Juliet holds her phone against her lap and sighs. 

“Alright.”

“O’Hara –” he begins, pained, as she opens the door.

“Yeah?”

“I …” A beat. “Nothing. I’m – you get some rest tonight. And – and stay safe.”

“I will,” Juliet replies, surprised by how sincerely the words come out.

Given everything that’s happened, she didn’t expect her own confidence on the subject to be so strong.

Juliet steps out onto the front lawn and watches her partner drive away. Behind her the house silhouettes itself in its own lit glow and the quiet sounds and salty smell of the ocean close by begin to properly filter into her consciousness. She stands still for a few long moments in the dark, which is less threatening now than it was a few hours ago. The humidity thickens her hair and her breath fogs in front of her. When she got Shawn’s text that he and Gus were crashing at his dad’s house instead of the Psych office, call if u need anything jules, she’d been yearning for a shower a bit too much to really think about it. Once her paperwork was out of the way, though, a shower became less important than – whatever feeling brought her here.

Shawn would say it was the idea of pancakes. She likes to think she’s capable of marginally more emotional vulnerability than he is.

She bites her lip, then presses send on the text.

Home.

The response is an immediate string of emojis, mainly the heart bubbles but with the addition of a few inexplicable inanimate objects too. She’s not sure what the megaphone or candelabra or pineapple are supposed to represent, but she’s smiling when she knocks on the kitchen door, which is meaning enough for her.

Henry opens it. He looks — exhausted, about the same as Juliet feels, despite the lack of head injury or general bodily trauma. The lines in his face immediately soften at the sight of her. Juliet refuses point blank to allow her eyes to well up.

“In you come,” Henry sighs, making way. Dr. Spencer — Maddie, Juliet supposes — is at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea. Muffled sounds of a television come from the next room. Juliet vaguely recognizes them as Phineas and Ferb.

At her entrance, Madeline raises an interested eyebrow and glances at Henry, but beyond that moment of silent communication says nothing.

“Do you want some tea?” she asks simply.

“Please.”

Henry squeezes her shoulder, gently enough that she realizes he somehow noticed and filed away all her injuries earlier. Henry Spencer the detective still surprises her sometimes. “Boys are in the living room,” he says, and goes back to the table while his ex-wife putters around the kitchen more comfortably than is probably wise.

Juliet chews on her lip again. An amused smile fights its way to the surface, coupled with an odd twang of yearning that doesn’t really make much sense. Poor Shawn, she thinks, and it's almost a laugh in the same way she’s almost about to cry. But that’s been true all evening. Henry pulls out another old photograph from the box they seemed to be sorting through before her arrival and peers over the top of his reading glasses.

“Oh God, can you believe I used to wear this stuff in public? You hated this thing.”

“If by this thing you mean that horrible yellow suit …”

“See, it wasn’t the yellow that was the problem. The cut did nothing to flatter my physique.”

Madeline is laughing when Juliet slips out, chamomile tea in hand, to the living room.

At the entrance she stops and takes her heels off. Phineas and Ferb is playing, and loudly at that. As promised, Shawn and Gus are huddled on the couch nursing their empty pancake containers, smelling like sugar and more or less dressed in PJs; she spots what’s surely one of Henry’s old fishing t-shirts, cartoonish in the logo and slightly too baggy on Shawn. She knows any old clothes he keeps in the closet here probably don’t fit him anymore. Juliet wonders if Gus went home to change or if he, too, borrowed clothes. Shawn’s hair has flattened a bit where he must have yanked his shirt down over his head, floofy the way it can be in the mornings sometimes. He’s holding a pillow against his chest. Gus’s sock has a hole in the big toe. Every so often one or both of them will giggle at the TV. 

Her eyes do well up, then. 

Of course Shawn picks that exact second to notice her.

He notices a lot of things, Juliet has come to observe, few of which fit congruously with the many things he forgets or overlooks or can’t be bothered over. She wonders if that’s just an extension of how the spirits work, and if he’d explain it to her if she asked him. There’s a resigned part of her that doesn’t think he will, and a practical part of her that guesses at an attention deficit diagnosis that probably gave him some grief growing up and doesn’t really pair well with psychic visions or an enduring fear of being too vulnerable.

Three in the morning is too late to be mulling any of this stuff over, Juliet thinks. Besides which, most of it becomes suddenly irrelevant as she’s hit with the expression that takes over his face at the sight of her.  

Three in the morning, she reminds herself. Near death experience. Don’t read into it.

Shawn doesn’t say anything, only looks at her with all that throat-closing tenderness Juliet has ignored so many times before. I think you’re swell, he’d said. In some ways, she’s always been able to see right through him without even trying. 

Gus is wedged right beside him, hogging the blankets. There’s enough room on the couch for Juliet to fit on the other side of them. 

She walks over, hands Shawn her tea, and climbs into his lap. Her knees bend over his right leg, her shoulder sinks into his chest and her head settles against his neck. Shawn still doesn’t say anything. He just sets the mug down carefully on the floor, takes a deep, relieving breath, and wraps his arms around her. She hadn’t really worried that Gus might complain, but when he reaches over unprompted and squeezes Juliet’s unhurt elbow, the last little knot in her chest dissolves fully. She gropes her hand over the upholstery and squeezes his arm back.

“... latest in my brilliant line of ‘Inators, I call it the Unlikely-Inator! She pairs beautifully with the Likeli-Inator 2000. Together, Perry the Platypus, I shall use them to somehow take over the Tri-State area, and then the world!”

“You wanna change?” Shawn murmurs into her hair after a moment. 

“Later,” Juliet says.

“Mmmkay.”

The old t-shirt is soft against the skin of her cheek and smells like laundry detergent. The rest of the house smells like a family lives in it, even though Juliet knows that’s not really true, and it also smells like Shawn, a little bit. Shawn smells like Shawn, too. His chest rumbles beneath her with every soft laugh the cartoon pulls out of him. 

“Oh – oh, remember this, this next bit is really funny,” Gus says. His voice is just as soft as Shawn’s.

“Man, you know I have this whole show memorized.”

“I’ve never really seen it,” Juliet says quietly. They watch as the little platypus karate kicks Dr. Doofenshmirtz in the head.

“I know,” says Shawn. “But that’s being rectified. Ha! Gus, we should turn the Psych office into a funhouse next week. Just to see if we can.”

He pats her thigh and Juliet feels a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth against Shawn’s neck.

“Shawn, I am not stepping foot in another amusement park since that crazy-ass chick and her boyfriend tried murdering everyone last month. We can try turning it into a bunny sanctuary instead.”

“I like the way you think, hermano. Wait wait, here comes the explosion. Classic!”

She falls asleep slowly, lulled by the comfortable heat of Shawn’s body and the muted, silly sounds from the television. 

When Juliet wakes up, her cheek is pressed against an actual pillow, she’s horizontal, and she has no idea what day it is. She blinks against the grit in her eyes and the fact that her whole body is sore before realizing she slept on a couch. Someone put a pillow under her head and a blanket over her body and took the time to change her out of her gross work clothes. She looks down, only mildly discombobulated. She’s wearing the old fishing t-shirt Shawn had on last night and what must be a pair of Madeline’s pajama pants. They’re a pretty purple color and silky against her legs. She definitely still has her underwear on. A soft snore comes from the ground below her and Juliet realizes she’s still in the living room at Shawn’s dad’s house; Shawn himself is burritoed in an ancient sleeping bag on the ground directly beneath her and Gus is sprawled on a camp bed that’s a bit too small for him on the other side of the coffee table. They’re both still fast asleep. The light coming from the window is light enough that it’s properly morning, but the rest of the house is still dead quiet. A soft blue light appears suddenly on the coffee table; her phone is vibrating, which she realizes must have been the thing that woke her up in the first place.

She reaches carefully over Shawn to grab it. The home screen shows a text from Carlton, received minutes ago.

Got home alright?

She could say that Gus gave her a ride; it would be another easy lie, and he’d happily corroborate it. She hates the idea, though. She looks down at Shawn’s sleeping form, the unruly tuft of hair poking out from beneath the blankets and the drool on his pillow. Telling Carlton would be a bad idea, she knows.

Juliet types, for a second time trying not to think too hard about it, Yes, home. Safe and sound.

She sinks back into the surprisingly comfortable couch cushions, instinctively curling into herself, full of feeling she can’t quite articulate. After a moment of staring silently at the wall, Juliet turns onto her back and reaches one quiet arm down. The tips of her fingers meet the soft warm skin of Shawn’s ear, and when he doesn’t wake up, she keeps her knuckles there, barely moving, only rubbing her thumb up and down every so often. 

Everything else can be a problem for tomorrow. Slowly, she falls asleep again. 

[double-vandammage]

Title: Rude Awakening

Word count: 2,573

Rating: 18+

Ship: Bret Hart x Shawn Michaels

Tags/Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Bret POV, Handjob, Blowjob, Alcohol

Also posted to my a03: aa_beatrix

Here is my first fanfic in probably 6 years. I'm so nervous about it, but I hope you Hartbreak shippers like it. I'm fairly new to this ship so please be gentle. 🥹 Thank you to the encouragement of my sis @taydaq, @imabillyami, @crxssjae, and @superkickme 😘

Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged in future fics, I do plan on writing more. 🫣

Bret sat silently by his motel window, watching the rain gently glide down the glass. What a shit day he had, it was only fitting the weather was also terrible. The promo he had just cut with Shawn weighed heavily on his mind. He was so tired of the little prick. Night after night he had to observe Shawn flamboyantly parade around the stage. Not only did he have to watch the annoying spectacle, but also endure the man occasionally shake his bare ass at the crowd. The fans ate it up and he couldn’t fathom why. They were close once, it seemed a lifetime away. Thunder cracked, startling him from his thoughts. The universe was telling him to relinquish any thoughts of Shawn for the rest of the evening. He didn’t want Shawn in his head more than was required, especially while he was alone in his motel room. Bret made his way to the bed, climbing under the covers and slowly he drifted to sleep.  

Abruptly there was an aggressive and continuous rap at his door. Bret was barely able to open his eyes as he dazedly glanced at the bedside clock. The time read 2:00AM. “Who the fuck-?” he grunted as the knocking became louder. He whipped the blanket from his body while quickly swinging his legs over the mattress. “I’m coming dammit.” he spat, stumbling to the door in his sleepy stupor. He put his eye to the peephole. “Jesus Christ…” none other than a Heartbreak Kid disruption. “Hey! Big daddy cool! Open up big sexy!” Shawn half yelled, half giggled. Bret opened the door, “wrong room shithead. Some of us are trying to sleep.” Shawn was drenched. He had clearly spent some time in the rain. “Whoa.” Shawn raised both hands up in defense. “This isn’t Kevin’s room?” Bret made a show of moving his hands up and down his own frame, “clearly it isn’t you asshole, what are you drunk?” Shawn put his index finger and thumb together, “Mmmm…maybe just a pinch.” 

Rolling his eyes, Bret took in Shawn’s appearance. He was soaked, so much so he had created a pool of moisture on the motel floor. He was a mess. “Do you know which room Kevin is in?” he asked, not wanting Shawn to be his problem this early in the morning. “Hmmm…well I thought this was his room…so I guess…no.” he said with his signature smile, chuckling to himself. “You wouldn’t mind if I bunked here tonight, eh Hitman?” Shawn asked while running a hand through his wet hair. Bret thought this must be some cruel joke the universe was playing on him. The last thing he wanted in his room was a drunk wet dog named Shawn Michaels, but he couldn’t let him wander aimlessly up and down the halls, slamming on random doors, and calling for big sexy. 

Bret crossed his arms, “shit. Fine. Do not drip on anything.” Shawn grinned, “Thanks Hitman, you’re the best there is and ever will be.” he said, pushing Bret to the side and slapping him on the arm. Bret closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “The bathroom is to the left, I can get you something to change into.” He closed the door and turned to find Shawn already on the bed. “Are you fucking kidding me Michaels? You’re super fucking soaked. Get off the bed, now.” Shawn rose, propping himself on his elbows. “Oh man…I am?” he asked, real concern in his voice. “Uh, yeah. Get up.” Bret demanded. Shawn moved almost intentionally slow, the blankets getting more and more saturated. 

“Dammit Shawn. Get your ass to the bathroom.” he said, grabbing Shawn’s arm, shoving him towards the open doorway. “Alright, alright. Ya don’t gotta be so touchy.” Shawn almost immediately began stripping off his flashy costume. He shook off his vest and began removing those hideous chaps he insisted on wearing. He kicked off his boots next and in doing so Shawn had noticed Bret leaning against the door frame observing. Bret in an instant knew exactly what he was about to do. Shawn turned, his back facing him and commenced shimmying his tights down to wiggle his ass at him. “Like what ya see Hitman?” he taunted. Bret kept his face stoic, but could feel his cheeks beginning to flush. “Stop that shit and just get cleaned up would you?” he urged moving away. Shawn smirked, pulling his tights completely off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  

Bret began pulling the blankets and sheets off the bed, discarding them onto the floor. He could hear the water start to run and eventually steam wafted outside the door. He pulled out a plain white t-shirt and gray sweats from his suitcase for Shawn to wear. Bret climbed back into the bed to try and get some more sleep before they had to be on the road again. The shower stopped and after a few minutes, he felt the empty side of the mattress shift. “Absolutely not boytoy.” he murmured. “Oh come on Bret, there’s not even a couch in here.” Shawn whined. “Not my problem. This is already obnoxious without having dry blankets, you are not sleeping up here.” Shawn in a child-like tantrum, huffed off the bed and onto the floor with one of the pillows. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

Outside rain still poured and thunder intermittently boomed, a particularly loud burst was enough to rattle Bret awake again. The clock registered at 5:00AM. He could hear Shawn’s slow and steady breathing, surprised Shawn didn’t also wake. Rolling to the opposite side of the bed, Bret peered over. Shawn was lying on his side facing him. Long blonde hair fell down around his shoulder and pillow. His bangs draped over his eyes. Shawn was beautiful, anyone could see that. Bret found his eyes had lingered, observing the white t-shirt he let the man borrow had slightly uplifted, revealing a small glimpse of Shawn’s tanned stomach. Quickly he averted his gaze and rolled back over. Squeezing his eyes shut, focusing on the sounds outside in an attempt to stifle an unresolved hunger he had no business feeling towards the Heartbreak Kid.

Unable to rest, he again got out of bed to reside by the window in the lone chair. He needed air. He opened the window just enough to feel the cool misting of rain against his face. Minutes later he heard Shawn stirring, a small groan escaping from him as he stretched. Shawn sat upright, dreamily looking at Bret. “Can’t sleep Hitman?” he mumbled. Bret ignored him, keeping his view to the window. “I gotta take a leak.” Shawn yawned as he shuffled towards the bathroom. Bret listened as Shawn fumbled around in the dark, hearing the toilet flush and sink run. He came out in the middle of another yawn, “Fuck me, I’m gonna be sore. You think people will believe me when I say I’m sore after spending the night in the Hitman’s room?” he laughed. “Don’t even joke about that shit Shawn.” Bret spat. “I’ll kick you out right now, don’t test me.”

Shawn cautiously made his way to stand in front of him. “Come on, would it be so terrible? Maybe this is exactly what you and I need.” Shawn said, reaching out a hand to brush the inky strands of hair from Bret’s face. Bret caught his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t.” Shawn only invaded his space more, moving his leg to part Bret’s thighs. His free hand tilted Bret’s chin upward so he could meet his stare. “I know you look at me. Just like I knew you were looking at me over there.” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the bed. Bret jerked his head away irritated, but Shawn hadn’t released his grip. Shawn lowered himself, his mouth inches from his ear, “I like it when you look at me…”.

Bret felt many things for Shawn Michaels. Desire he could always snuff out, now he wasn’t so sure. Shawn closed the space between them, placing his lips to Bret’s temple. Bret involuntarily let go of Shawn’s wrist, finding he was nuzzling into Shawn as he continued to trail light kisses around the side of his face. “Touch me Bret…” Shawn sighed into him. Bret moved his hands to Shawn’s waist, tugging him forward so the younger man was situated between his thighs. Shawn moved his hands to cradle his face, lifting him slightly from the chair into an eager kiss. Bret let his own hands find their way under his t-shirt, running his fingers up Shawn’s back. “Come here.” Bret breathed against Shawn’s lips, guiding him to straddle his lap. 

Shawn smiled into their kiss, feeling Bret’s growing excitement beneath him. Shawn slid his hand down, teasing at Bret’s erection. “I knew you always had a hart on for me.” he joked. “Do you ever just shut the fuck up Michaels?” Bret gasped in between Shawn’s stroking. Their mouths fought for the upperhand, Bret captured Shawn’s bottom lip and bit down roughly. Shawn withdrew, taken aback, “Damn hitman.” he snickered, testing his lip for blood. He hated Shawn and this was probably a huge mistake, but all he wanted to do was make Shawn shut up. Swiftly he grabbed Shawn by the thighs, hoisting him up, and threw him to the bed. Shawn bounced onto the mattress, promptly grabbing at Bret’s shirt to yank him forward. Bret landed a quick peck to Shawn’s mouth before moving to devour his neck. Strategically he removed the pesky white t-shirt from Shawn, creating a makeshift tie to bind Shawn’s wrists.   

He ran his tongue down to Shawn’s shoulder; tasting sweat, motel body wash, and a hint of rain water. Not an ideal flavor, but damn did it taste good on Shawn. Bret flipped Shawn effortlessly onto his stomach, keeping hold of his bound wrists. He swept Shawn’s hair to the side, kissing the nape of his neck. Shawn arched into him, craning his neck to meet Bret’s lips. His fingers felt for the waistband of Shawn’s sweatpants, sliding his hand under the fabric, not surprised to find he wasn’t wearing underwear and grasping his cock. Letting go of his wrists, he tapped the side of Shawn’s hips, signaling Shawn to prop himself on his knees. Shawn read him easily as if inside the ring and elevated his backside, pushing against Bret’s groin, breaking their kiss and keeping his face down to the mattress.

“Holy shit, Hitman…I want you.” Shawn sputtered as Bret began to steadily pump Shawn’s dick. “Fuck, I’ve always wanted you, Bret.” he mumbled into the bed. How long had Shawn wanted him? Was it nearly as long as he wanted Shawn? Over the years he had indulged himself in the occasional sexy boy fantasy and every time he loathed himself for it. He was a complete hypocrite with each jab at Shawn for shooting that girly mag. Now he had Shawn under him, unapologetically jerking him off. He brought his free hand to clasp Shawn’s throat, easing him upward so he could relax against his chest. Bret continued his deliberate rhythm, relishing the low moans and the way Shawn began to thrust into Bret’s hand. “Jesus. Don’t stop.” Shawn whimpered, burying his face into Bret’s neck. He could tell Shawn was getting close, his panting becoming more rapid.

The feeling of Shawn nestled into his body was intoxicating. Sure, they had their physical history in the ring which was intimate in itself but maybe Shawn was right after all. Maybe this was exactly what they needed. What they couldn’t settle on the mat, they could settle behind closed doors. Bret pressed his lips to Shawn’s forehead, “You know I still hate you?” he said, his words muffled against Shawn’s skin and damp hair. “This doesn’t change anything between us.” The hold he had on Shawn’s neck became a little tighter. “Even with my…dick in your hand, you still…manage to be all business.” Shawn choked out as Bret’s pace began to quicken. Bret covered Shawn’s mouth, muting the wail expelling from him as he erupted into Bret’s hand. Shawn clawed at his hold with his own constrained wrists, his hips rutting wildly into Bret’s palm as he rode out his orgasm.       

Bret released Shawn, letting him drop to the mattress. He lay there exhausted, chest heaving and glistening with sweat. Shawn twisted his wrists from the tied up shirt, easily exiting his confines. “Bret baby…” Shawn with eyes still glazed over, rolled to face him. “Please, let me make you feel good too.” he begged, crawling between Bret’s legs to play with the drawstrings of his sweats. He lifted Bret’s shirt, kissing gently at his stomach. The touch of Shawn’s lips pressing at his skin made him shiver and the thought alone of the blonde going down on him was damn near enough to make him come. Against his better judgment, he leaned back and let Shawn take control. 

Shawn slid his sweats and underwear down, revealing his throbbing erection. Without much pause, Shawn took him into his mouth. He let his eyes flutter shut, Shawn clearly had done this a time or two. His mouth felt so warm, so good, his tongue hitting all the right places. He clutched at Shawn’s hair, allowing his fingers to entangle themselves. “God damn Michaels…” he managed to groan as Shawn licked up the length of his cock. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Shawn was unrelenting as he held tightly to Bret’s thighs, keeping him in place as his hips bucked desperately into the heat of Shawn’s mouth. He couldn’t help the mangled cry Shawn managed to pry out of him as he came. “Holy shit.” he breathed, unable to form anything else articulate. 

The rain seemed to intensify outside the window, brisk air filtering in and caressing their moist bodies. Shawn had positioned himself on top of Bret’s stomach, his chin resting on crossed arms. “I bet you didn’t hate me just now.” he purred. “Fuck you.” Bret smirked, propping a hand behind his neck. His dark eyes met Shawn’s baby blues. “What now?” Shawn asked. Bret’s other hand traveled down to brush the hair from Shawn’s face, tucking a rogue lock behind his ear. “I don’t know. We have to get up soon.” Shawn emitted a breathy sigh, “Let’s stay like this a bit longer.” he insisted. The Heartbreak Kid’s eyes closed as he leaned into the way Bret lazily threaded his fingers through his golden hair. 

Internally Bret felt the need to run, this dangerously bordered on affection. He should shove the younger man away, tell him to get lost, and figure out what to do before their next show. However, his needs and wants were very different. He had said nothing would change, but deep down he knew neither of them believed that. Would they fall back into their rivalry or back into bed? What was to follow after, they couldn’t know now and they didn’t have to address it just yet. This sweet silence was preferred to all the bullshit they put each other through. Even if they had got it wrong, they could figure out the details later. Before the other knew it, the sound of the rain mixed with their slow breathing lulled them to sleep. 

This quiet moment was theirs to keep.

[thatgenericwriter]

Hi! I don’t know if your doing requests or not but if you are could you right one about Shawn Spencer from psych who has a girlfriend that is a master as marshal arts and can take down anyone and some how she and Shawn playfully spar and she goes full out on accident and he just lays on the floor in shock of what just happened

I am definitely doing requests!!! Also this is such a great first request for me! Thank you so much!

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Oops || Shawn Spencer

Paring: Shawn Spencer x fem! reader

Warnings: violence? Maybe? Idk it's play fighting

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“I could take you in a fight.” 

You look up from the case file in front of you and turn towards your boyfriend who was sprawled out on the couch looking at you.

"No you could not." You scoff at him as you roll your eyes before looking back to the file in front of you.

"No seriously, I could take you in a fight." Shawn says as he stands up off the couch. You sign and sit back in your chair crossing your arms and looking at him.

"Yeah I'd like to see you try."

Shawn is now leaning over the desk you're sat at and looks you directly in your eyes. "Is that a challenge?" He quips, raising his eyebrows at you with his signature smirk on his face.

Smirking back at him, you stand up from where you're seated and walk around the desk to face him. You lean in close to his face as you ask him what he would do if it was a challenge.

He leans in even closer to your face, leaving barely a gap between your noses. "I would do.....this!"

Before you knew what was happening, Shawn was practically jumping at you. Sadly for Shawn, your many years of martial arts kicked in and had you grabbing Shawn by his arm and twisting your body in a way that sent him flying over your shoulder.

Gasping as you hear the thud of his body hitting the ground, you quickly run towards him. Apologizing the entire time while you crouch down next to him and start checking him over for any damage done. Shawn stares up at you wide eyed in disbelief not moving.

"Wow!"

This gets you to stop your apologies and checking of his body to stare at him wide eyed.

"Wow? What do you mean wow!? I just threw you over my shoulder on to the floor! You could have seriously gotten hurt!"

He looks up at you with utter astonishment. "I know that was so cool! You have to teach me how to do that!" He says while getting off of the floor and helping you stand as well.

"So you're not mad at me?" You say still scared that you may have hurt him.

"No way! I could never be mad at you. Especially for something that I started." He pushes some of your hair out of your face and smiles at you lovingly.

You sigh in relief before looking up at him with a smirk.

"See I was right. You can't take me in a fight."

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Author's Note: I don't actually know like anything about martial arts soo... My bad... But I hope you enjoyed this anyway!!!

[typicalopposite]

Shassie prompt- one of them is feeling sorry for themselves (make it as angsty of you'd like) but the other one comes in and tells them how great they find the other because it's the only way they know to help (bonus points if it's pre-slash and they're trying desperately not to add "and I love you" to the end of the reasons they like them because they think it's one sided while the other is like 'I didn't think I could fall for this guy any more but I just did')

Ok so… heh… this got a little longer than intended and became a full fic 👀 I’ll probably throw it on ao3 later!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Lassie has been quiet…er than usual.

He’s never been a big conversationalist; unless, of course, you were talking about the law, or weapons, or that little revolutionary role play thing he’s into— that’s beside the point… He is overtly quiet today. He’s not clapping back at Shawn’s antics with his snark, and teasing… or threats. He honestly seems a little sad. 

It’s weird enough Shawn has asked if he was okay several times. He got an “I’m fine,” once; an “I said I’m ok, Spencer” the second time; then it was “if you ask me one more time I’m going to rip your foot off and shove it down your throat!” So Shawn stopped asking after that. But he still senses that Lassie is lying to him. 

He’s clearly bothered by something. It’s driving him crazy that isn’t able to deduce it down to anything. “You need to leave this alone,” Gus tries as he speed walks to keep up with Shawn. “Lassiter is going to kill you if he finds out you’re asking people about his business.”

“Gus… don’t be the little engine that couldn’t,” Shawn says before taking a sharp left into Chief Vick’s office and closing the door before Gus can get in.

He pulls the blinds closed, too, and spins on his heels; Vick is looking up at him from her mountain of paperwork. “Can I help you Mr. Spencer?”

“Uh— yeah, Chief,” Shawn says, giving her his brightest smile. “I’m hoping you can, anyway.” Shawn licks his lips trying to think of the best way to go about pleading with her to spill the Lassie-tea. “You see, you are so amazing at what you do. You run this department with such care and compassion… you have a good relationship with all the people who work under you. Heck I bet you even know all their juicy personal details.”

“You want me to tell you why Carlton seems off today.” 

“Oh my god, Chief! I didn’t know you were a little psychic too,” Shawn says with a grin. “But yes. I mean… you see it, don’t you? It’s driving me crazy!” 

She laughs, shaking her head and signs her signature on the form in front of her. “Mr. Spencer, I do—as you said—have a pretty good relationship with all the people who work under me. What makes you think I am just going to tell you about my head detective’s very personal and private business?” 

“Well—” Shawn says, pauses, and tries to think of a good reason she should tell him. “I just— I want to—”

“You want to help him,” she finishes. Shawn nods. “Yeah, well,” she says, with a laugh. “Couldn’t you just… find out from the spirits?” She cocks a brow and smirks. 

Shawn laughs. Shit. “Actually, well… unfortunately it doesn’t work like that. They tell me what they want to tell me. And they are far less appreciative of me coming to them for personal matters than you are…” 

“Ahh, I see…” Vick sets her pen down, and sighs. “Listen, when you go back out there… Can you ask Carlton to check his calendar and make sure he has his next scheduled evaluation with your mom written down, so he doesn’t forget it.” She lifts her brows, waiting for Shawn’s response. 

“Uh… yeah sure Chief,” he says. She smiles and nods towards the door, so he turns and walks back out into the bullpen. 

Gus is leaning against the wall, arms crossed and pouting. “Well, did she tell you anything?” 

“Actually… I think she did,” Shawn says, trying to wade through the confusion to the meaning for his given task. They make their way towards Jules desk, but Shawn stops first at Lassie’s; he notices Lassie's hands. How they are loosely clasped together as he watches a security clip from a robbery case he’s working on. One finger gently strokes the space in his left ring finger where a wedding band once sat. “Hey man, Chief said make sure you have your next appointment with my mom written down.” 

Lassie looks back at him like he’s just said the most outlandish thing ever. He shuffles through the mess on his desk, pulling his calendar from under the paperwork. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course I wrote it down… Faster I get it over with, the faster your mom can leave me the hell alone.” 

Shawn zeroes in on his calendar. There it is! Chief Vick, you sly dog. Today’s date is circled; Anniversary penned in Lassie’s nice and neat handwriting. 

~~~

Shawn and Gus hang around the station until everyone is leaving for the day. Not because Gus wants to… but because Shawn now has a plan and if it falls through—which is the more likely outcome—he needs Gus there to give him a lift back to the office. “What are we waiting for, Shawn?”

“Shhhhh,” Shawn hisses, watching the stairs for Lassie to finally come down. 

When at last the detective turns the corner he hears Gus suck his teeth next to him. “I told you to leave it alone, Shawn… he clearly isn’t going to—” Shawn is already crossing the room towards the stairs, he is vaguely aware of Gus saying he’s leaving without him. Oh well, he’ll just have to walk off the rejection then. He takes a deep breath and stops in front of Lassie. 

“What the— what do you want Spencer?” 

“Uh— erm— I just wanted to see if… you felt like going out for some drinks,” Shawn says, sticking his hands as far down his pockets as they will go.

Lassie narrows his eyes. “Who told you?” 

“Wha— hah— told me what? No one told me anything!” Lassie’s eyes burrow into him, and he can feel his face heating up. He goes to lift his hand to his temple, fully prepared to put on his whole bit to drag him out of this hole. Instead he drops his arm and sighs. “Look man, it doesn’t matter how I figured it out… What matters is me helping you get over this hump—which ironically is on hump day,” (it’s Wednesday) he laughs; Lassie does not. 

“I just want to go home, Spencer,” Lassie sighs. He seems too deflated to argue, otherwise Shawn is sure he wouldn’t let the whole ‘who told you’ thing go. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired… and I have to go home to an empty house and spend what was supposed to be a celebratory day alone; just another reminder that maybe she was right about me.” He exhales, long and slow, running a hand over his face. “Now I’m sitting here telling you all this like you even really care.” 

“I do,” Shawn says, maybe just a little too quickly; a little too enthusiastically. “Come on, Lassie! You got so much going for you, don’t let one person’s image of you get in the way. You are tall and dark—minus the few grays but we’re gonna ignore those—and hawt.” He says it in a playful voice to cover up the fact he very much means it. “You have the ability to crack jokes unintentionally and in the middle of an anger fueled insult.”

“These don’t seem very—”

“Aht, tut tut…” Shawn says, throwing up a finger in his face. “I’m not done!” Lassie groans and crosses his arms. “You are an amazing detective, and you genuinely care about justice… you just care with a very angry and uncaring stature. You’re smart, and talented—especially with a gun…

.

.

.

…you’re a good driver—although most cops are probably too scared of you to give you a ticket, that's beside the point.” 

“If I just agree to get that drink with you… will you please shut up?” Lassie asks. His arms are no longer crossed, and he actually has a soft smile on his face. “Good god you sound obsessed with me.”

Maybe I am… just a little. Shawn admits to himself. He can’t help it, he's practically head over heels in love with him after all. Not that Lassie would ever know that… or reciprocate it. “I— uhm— yeah, I’ll shut up now.” 

“Okay,” Lassie laughs—like, legitimately laughs—and Shawn’s insides do a cartwheel. He goes in his pocket, and groans. “Shit I left my keys on my desk. I’ll be right back.” 

“Okay— yeah— I’ll be— I’ll be here.”

Lassie turns and disappears up the stairs passing Vick on the way. She smiles, chuckling to herself as she descends. “Wow,” she says down to Shawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look before.” 

“What look? Did he seem upset?” Shawn asks.  “No… he definitely did not seem upset,” Vick replies. “You two… have a good time.” She pats Shawn on the back and walks past him, not saying another word.

[trinemendes]

Shawn gave his vocal coach, Eric Vetro, his signature Fender guitar signed

[louisupdates]

The much-anticipated lineup for Lollapalooza India 2025 has been officially unveiled, and it promises an unforgettable music experience in Mumbai. Taking place on March 8th and 9th, the festival brings together a stellar range of global stars and rising talents across various genres.

Headlining this year’s event are Green Day and Shawn Mendes, both of whom are sure to draw massive crowds with their electrifying performances. Furthermore, former One Direction member Louis Tomlinson will take the stage and indie rock favorite Glass Animals are also on the roster.

For electronic music lovers, Zedd and John Summit will deliver their signature high-energy sets, while the alternative scene is well-represented with Nothing But Thieves and Aurora.

In addition to international stars, the festival also showcases some of India’s finest musical talent. Rap sensations Raftaar and Kr$na will be performing a special collaborative set, while artists like Hanumankind, Talwiinder, and Lisa Mishra are also slated to take the stage.

Tickets are available now at lollaindia.com, so make sure you secure your spot for a weekend filled with incredible music, culture, and community.

See below the complete lineup of the Lollapalooza India 2025.

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[black-arcana]

SPIRITBOX Reunites With MEGAN THEE STALLION For 'Tyg' Song

In an electrifying and unexpected new collaboration, Grammy-nominated heavy music trailblazers SPIRITBOX have joined forces once again with global hip-hop powerhouse Megan Thee Stallion for her latest project, "Megan: Act II". Produced by Bankroll Got It, Dan Braunstein, Mike Stringer (SPIRITBOX) and Shawn "Source" Jarrett, "TYG" showcases Megan's hard-hitting verses fused with SPIRITBOX's signature dynamic production and explosive riffs.

This marks the band's second team-up with the Houston icon, following the successful rock remix of Megan's hit single "Cobra", which made waves earlier this year. The collaboration was hailed as adding a "booming, reverb-drenched cascade of arena rock attitude" by Billboard, and "an extra layer of edge to the vulnerable track" by BET.

Joining Megan's highly anticipated project are other exciting features, including Flo Milli, RM of BTS and TWICE, further solidifying "Megan: Act II" as a groundbreaking moment in music. Fans of both SPIRITBOX and Megan can look forward to an unforgettable mix of heavy and hip-hop sounds on "TYG", which pushes boundaries and proves that the most unexpected partnerships can yield the most exhilarating results.

Most recently, SPIRITBOX released their newest single "Soft Spine", a standout track showcasing their evolving sound. The band is currently thrilling fans nationwide as part of KORN's 30th-anniversary tour, further cementing their reputation as one of metal's most dynamic and innovative forces.

For many artists, a meteoric rise can often mean a sudden plateau. However, for Grammy-nominated progressive heavy metal mainstays SPIRITBOX, there appears to be no end in sight on their near-constant ascent to the top. Formed in 2017 in the picturesque yet isolated region of Victoria, British Columbia, Canada by vocalist Courtney Laplante and guitarist Mike Stringer, SPIRITBOX would fully cement themselves as a household name in the summer of 2020 with the release of their blistering breakout single "Holy Roller", along with a host of other captivating singles shortly after, resulting in a media firestorm of hype.

With new and existing fans eagerly watching their next move, SPIRITBOX exceeded every expectation imaginable in 2021 with the release of their genre-defining debut studio album "Eternal Blue" via Pale Chord/Rise Records. "Eternal Blue", which debuted at #13 on the Billboard 200, kicked open the doors of the heavy metal scene and rewrote the genre's playbook with 12 stunning tracks that incorporated everything from djent and post-metal to infectious synth-laden pop sensibilities and cinematic arrangements, brought fully to life by the inimitable Laplante's ethereal and commanding vocal performances.

The album cycle for "Eternal Blue" saw SPIRITBOX not only grace the covers of esteemed music publications such as Revolver, Alternative Press, Rock Sound and Kerrang!, among many others but would also solidify the band as one of the most in-demand groups in live music today with their one-hundred percent sold out, first-ever headlining tour in support of the album which saw ticket sales over 40,000. The band would also share the stage with seasoned metal veterans such as LIMP BIZKIT and GHOST and win "Best International Breakthrough Band" at the 2021 Heavy Music Awards.

In 2022, SPIRITBOX secured highly-coveted spots at numerous major U.S. rock and metal festivals and were nominated for two JUNO Awards, respectively. SPIRITBOX would also round out their current lineup with the inclusion of drummer Zev Rose and bassist Josh Gilbert in addition to releasing their sonically experimental EP "Rotoscope" in June of that year as well as a cross-genre collaboration with dubstep artist Illenium for the track "Shivering".

During another whirlwind year for the band, including a U.S. tour with SHINEDOWN and PAPA ROACH, SPIRITBOX wrote and recorded their critically acclaimed EP, "The Fear Of Fear", released in November 2023. The EP features the single "Jaded", which was nominated for "Best Metal Performance" at the 66th annual Grammy Awards. In the same month, the band would make another genre-bending splash with a high-profile collaboration with rapper Megan Thee Stallion for a remix of her song "Cobra".

Photo credit: Jonathan Weiner

[grayblurcards]

Planet Stasiak (WWF Attitude)

2023 Wrestling Authentic Signature

[wrestlinghistorywithkay]

The Montreal Screwjob: What Happened and How It Lead To Bret Hart in WCW

I know what you’re probably thinking when you see the title of this article and it’s probably right . I am going to be discussing one of the most controversial topics in professional wrestling. The topic of the article will about the infamous Montreal Screwjob at the WWF Survivor Series Pay-Per-View in 1997. I will not be bashing anyone , however , I will be giving my honest opinion. I ask you to do the same without starting an argument. I understand that this divides fans , however, this is an important part of wrestling .

The Montreal Screwjob, also known as The Montreal Incident was a highly controversial incident that took place at Survivor Series on November 9, 1997 in Montreal , Quebec , Canada. This incident was not part of the Shawn Michaels and Bret Hart storyline , however , it was a shoot. A shoot is something that happens in professional wrestling that is not a part of a storyline. The incident was planned by WWF Owner and Chairman , Vince McMahon , Shawn Michaels , and a few other employees of the WWF. Bret Hart did not know about their plan. Thus , the shoot was planned to stop Bret Hart , who was the WWF Champion ever since the late summer of 1997 from leaving the WWF with the championship and signing with Ted Turner’s and Eric Bischoff’s World Championship Wrestling, the rival of the WWF . Hart was set to join WCW in 1997, being with the WWF for most of his career , signing with the company in 1984.

Bret Hart didn’t want to lose his championship to Shawn Michaels as the two had a feud outside of Kayfabe. The actual ending of their championship match for Survivor Series was supposed to end with Michaels losing the match via disqualification , while Hart was declared the winner and retained the championship. Therefore , he would’ve had to lose the championship at a later date or he would’ve to forefeit. Hart and Michaels would have a heated rivalry outside of the ring and in the locker room , with both parties being known to argument. Nevertheless, one of their arguments led to a backstage fight before an episode of RAW in Hartford Connecticut. The two fought after Michaels accused Hart of cheating on his wife with Sunny , a popular Valet. This caused Michaels to be suspended for sixty days . Hart said he tried to work things out with Michaels by talking about how to be professional and earn each other’s trust. He also claimed that he would’ve not had an issue losing to him if Vince asked him to do so. Michaels disagreed with everything and this led to Hart’s refusal of losing the championship to him at Survivor Series.

The day before Survivor Series , Shawn Michaels was set to meet with Vince McMahon and his aides , Pat Patterson , and Gerald Brisco , in a hotel room to plan out how to manipulate Bret Hart so he would lose the WWF Championship. It is unknown about how many WWF employees knew about McMahon’s plan. Jim Ross has stated that he never knew about what was going happen, therefore , he was accused by members of the Hart family of being involved . He also claimed that Jerry Lawler didn’t know about what was going on either . Nevertheless, Hart and Michaels met with Pat Patterson to plan out what was going to happen during their match . The plan for the match was to have Michaels use Hart’s signature move , the Sharpshooter , on him as the referee, Earl Hebner , was going to be knocked out . Also part of the original match plan , a second referee was going to be coming to the ring alongside Bret’s brother , Owen Hart and their Brother - In - Laws , ‘ The British Bulldog ’, Davey Boy Smith , and Jim ‘ The Anvil ’ Neidhart . The original referee would start to recover from being knocked down and Michaels would make a pin , with Hart kicking out . The end of the match would be a disqualification.

The match didn’t end as it was planned to do so. During the match , fans kept telling Hart he sold out as he made his way to the ring and booed Michaels. The fans that told Bret he sold out didn’t know that he signed with WCW. Michaels disrespected the Canadian flag by rubbing it against his lower body , dry humping it , and picking his nose with it during his entrance to the ring for the match . Both competitors would take the match in the crowd with McMahon and other WWF officials following behind them. More officials kept coming to ring as they were called upon. Hart first started noticing that something was wrong when he saw Ross and Lawler not calling the match and saw Sgt Slaughter standing with McMahon at ringside . Earl Hebner would be knocked down after Michaels hit him with Sweet Chin Music.

Mike Chioda , the substitute referee who was to be accompanied by Owen , Smith , and Neidhart began letting officials know that Hebner wasn’t supposed to be back in the match yet . Pat Patterson did the same thing , leaving the new Hart Foundation in confusion, as they were supposed to run to the ring to help Bret. Michaels had Hart in the Sharpshooter during this. He had a tight hold on Hart as refused to give his leg to Hart in order to let him break free. Michaels glanced over at Hebner , suspecting fans to know that he was in on the Screwjob as well. Earl Hebner called for Mark Yeaton, the timekeeper to ring the bell as he arose to his feet. McMahon elbowed Yeaton to get his attention, and said “ Ring the fucking bell! ” to him . Shawn Michaels was declared the winner and new WWF Champion. Hart heard everything as tried to trip Michaels . He knew that he was screwed out of retaining the championship.

After Michaels was declared the winner , Jim Ross questioned what happened . Out of anger knowing what happened , Bret Hart spat in Vince McMahon’s face with Shawn Michaels being confused by what’s going on. McMahon soon told Michaels to get the belt and get to the back. He left the arena in a hurry with Gerald Brisco and his tag team partner , Triple H, by his side. McMahon and most of the officials that participated in the match hurried to get to the back as they knew Hart was angry . Hart went on an angry rampage by breaking equipment as the fans began to become angry and jeer McMahon . The rest of the Hart Foundation ran down the ring to calm Bret down. Bret thanked the fans by telling them he loved them and traced ‘ WCW ’ with his fingers to the cheering and appreciation of the fans before following his family backstage .

While backstage , Hart began to question Michaels. Michaels claimed he didn’t know about what happened and why it did . Vince and his aides locked themselves in his office . The Undertaker watched the match from McMahon’s office and went to Hart to express how bad he felt for him . Undertaker also made Vince come out of the office and told him he needed to apologize to Bret. McMahon went to speak to Hart with both Patterson and Brisco , along with Bruce Pritchard. His son , Shane , followed . Hart had his family with him. The Undertaker had to move Michaels far away in the locker from everyone because he knew how Shawn was and he would interrupt. The Undertaker also made sure the other talent stayed out of the locker as they were discussing the outcome of the Screwjob. The discussion got heated with Hart punching McMahon. Triple H and other officials were confronted by Bret’s ex-wife , Julie . Owen had to escort her away from them before it got out of hand . McMahon left with a black eye and sprained ankle .

Shawn Michaels stated in his autobiography that McMahon told him not to carry his newly won WWF Championship out to the ring on RAW the next night and not bring up what happened. Michaels agreed to do so and wouldn’t bash Hart. Meanwhile in Bret Hart’s autobiography, he claimed that he had the support of The Undertaker and other talent . After learning about how Hart was disrespected, many WWF threatened to leave the WWF to follow him to WCW and not show up to RAW. One of these wrestlers was Mick Foley. Foley would return to RAW after talking to Jim Cornette. Rick Rude was one of the wrestlers who followed Bret and made his return to WCW two days after what happened . Hart and Rude were friends outside of the ring. Jim Neidhart and Davey Boy Smith left the WWF as Owen was still under contract with the company. Owen took a break and came back with the Blackhart gimmick. This gimmick was a Vigilante one which meant Owen wanted justice for his brother and his family. Vince would claim Bret Hart screed himself in an interview with Jim Ross on RAW. WCW commentators, Tony Schiavone and Mike Tenay , would jeer both Shawn Michaels and Vince McMahon. Eric Bischoff would keep teasing Hart’s arrival and the nWo claimed he would join them as soon as he made his debut . Due to the controversy, Vince McMahon’s character , ‘ Mr. McMahon ’, would be created . This gimmick made McMahon a power hungry and toxic boss who would bully talent who went against him. He would also pick his favorite talent to hand a championship to.

My Final Thoughts:

If you all , my readers, want me to be honest abut this article , I will. I was getting angry writing it . I am a fan of Bret Hart and went back to watch this on Peacock. I was only a newborn when it happened , I was born in 1997. I’m also a fan of Shawn Michaels. To me , the Montreal Screwjob is one of the most horrible things that happened to someone in wrestling. It showed how evil someone can be. And I actually felt bad for Bret. What do you think about this ? Sound off in the comments or my ask box . If both of them were in their prime today and it happened , where do you think Bret would’ve signed ? To me , he would’ve signed with AEW if this happened today.

Love You All,

- Kay

[vicsy]

maxiel wrestling au ✨ 2.7k words that boinked me in the head cause i miss the good old days.

The new guy is way too green to be fit into a match right before the main event and Daniel voices his genuine concern with zero hesitation. It's his reputation at risk. Christian claps him on the shoulder assuredly, paints the guy — his name is Max and he goes by Super Max until creative will have something to do with that, fuck's sake — in the brightest colors. Tries to make a sell, a corporate rat in and out of the ring.  

And the thing is, the new guy is sort of gloomy, doesn't smile much even when Daniel offers his signature greeting. He's not a fucking asshole, he won't tell a rookie to go to hell for that. They've all been there, first day jitters and all. But, man, this new guy. Something is off about him. 

His ring gear, for starters, and Daniel shouldn't be the judge since his mom made him his first ill-fitting set back in Australia when Daniel was seventeen and scrawny, fresh-faced with crooked teeth and the energy of three hundred power plants. So, yeah, it's bad wrestling etiquette or whatever but the outline of a lion in the middle of the rookies' — sorry, Max's — ass is… something. The blue and gold shorty shorts fit alright, though, Daniel does give them an appreciative look. He prefers pants and shin guards, that's all.  

And, shit, looks like this Super Max, for crying out loud, designs his gear himself, judging by this very self-indulgent print. People are gonna tear him to shreds, like vultures; crush his spirit, knowing how this biz works when you're twenty-five and still wide-eyed, full of dreams of making it big, becoming the next Shawn Michaels or The Great Senna. 

Max is surely no wrestling royalty, no Rosberg or Flair or Schumaher. His dad was some midcarder in the late eighties back when FWF was at the cusp of breaking viewership records. And, surely, Max is a texbook continuation of his father's unfulfilled hopes. Daniel can read it in the way Max held himself, in the way his arms fidget when he talks and beside him Christian nods, proud, like it was his son making his big screen debut.

Daniel wonders, why him. Putting Max against younger guys would have been more plausible. Putting a company rookie against an established champion definitely seemed like a choice. 

"Don't forget that I make the calls, Daniel," Christian says, the finality in his voice clear as day when Max steps away to put his signature on a contract for the night. Then the suit-and-tie fucker gives him a cunning little smile and Daniel swallows a witty response stuck on the tip of his tongue. "Besides, he asked very, uh, insistently to pair you two up. How could I have been in the right mind to say no to the future of wrestling wanting to take on one of the crowd favorites?"

Well. Fuck. Daniel would know how, being an absolute gem on the mic but nobody's asking, so he's shit out of luck in that department. And currently booked in match with a guy who apparently admires him. Same height and, what? Eight years younger? Daniel tries not to read it as a sign for retirement. 

They settle on a cage match and, surely, it means essentially throwing Max into the deep end from day one but his eyes shine eagerly and he goes on a tangent, dissects the match step by step as if he's been running with the FWF for as long as Daniel did. Ten fucking years, thank you very much, and he knows damn well how to put on a show without some jobber — alright, sure, Daniel isn't supposed to squash him but still — running his mouth with a wrestling for dummies kind of talk. But Max didn't look like the same person who glowered at Daniel minutes before. He seems like someone who loved wrestling with all his being, lived and breathed the craft, came alive with the sound of the bell, the boos and cheers; the bruises and tore muscles, broken bones and bittersweet victories. 

"We doing the spot?" Daniel interrupts but in good nature, stretching his shoulders one by one, wearing a lazy smile to hide his annoyance. He half expects Max to refuse, back out of it. Wouldn't blame him, really. "Top of the cage, before the bell."

"Of course," Max answers too quickly, voice croaky, his chin lifted high as if Daniel offended him. Doubted him on the spot; doubted his hunger to make a name in the biggest wrestling federation known in the world. "It's a cage match after all. We have to make a good show."

We, huh? Perhaps the kid knows a thing or two. 

"Yeah, cool," Daniel tugs his Beats on, cues a special playlist in a pre-match ritual. "See ya in the ring, Super Maxy-Max."

He walks off to warm up as the show begins but not before noticing a sudden blush on Max's pale cheeks, his chest puffing with a response that he breathes out in a language Daniel can't place. He bounces around backstage, high-fives miserable-looking Charles on his way from the ring. His chest is streaked with red lines. Poor guy took the brunt of Fernando's chops. Daniel could still hear his music playing as he celebrated a win accompanied by heartfelt boos of the crowd. Eh, fucking marks. 

Daniel makes a point of not acknowledging Max at gorilla position, adjusting his shockingly colourful ring gear instead, slinging the FWF championship belt over his shoulder. It's childish to use it as a shield and Daniel is the nicest guy to his core, cross his heart, but the wrestling biz is cutthroat. And even Max's music is not on par with the standarts when it plays after Daniel finished making his way to the ring, greeted the crowd and sent the shirt he wore flying towards the grabby hands of his faithful fans. They are, truly so, booing loudly along with the generic entrance song, letting Max feel their disdain from the start, not letting him mistake it as a warm welcome. Not against their favorite Badger. 

And yet, Max's face remains blank. The way he slowly removes his own t-shirt and neatly leaves it on the side of the ring pulls a chuckle out of Daniel. God, he's so spectacularly green. 

Simply on the grounds of Daniel being a fucking face, he reaches his hand out after the bell dings and the metal cage above them descends agonizingly slow, inviting Max to lock up; a class act. Max knocks his hand away, expression scrunched in a mask of disgust. Daniel takes every assumption he made back; they're about to have a grand ol' time. 

Max's style is a bit choppy but he doesn't strike Daniel as a high-flying type. Mostly old school moves, orchestrated to a precision not every rookie has. They exchange a couple of blows and Daniel takes initiative for the time being. He ducks away from a spear and Max hits the turnbuckle shoulder first, turning with a grimace of pain. He doesn't oversell, a great fucking sign for them both, and Daniel bounces off the ropes to deliver a flying knee to the side of Max's jaw. He takes it magnificently, falling to his knees completely unbalanced. 

Maybe, just maybe, he owes Christian the benefit of the doubt. At very least, their styles are a match, perfect opposites to elevate each other's strengths. Max's brawler against Daniel's technician; a study of contrasts between the brawn and the showmanship. 

He ends up putting Max in a figure-four smack dab in the middle of the ring so he can’t reach for the ropes to save himself and, shit, he sells so wonderfully that Daniel's mind wanders. There is something in the bend of Max's neck, in the strength of his entire figure — built but limber, writhing under Daniel's scrutiny, completely at his mercy. The give Max's body begs to be molded in his hands and, suddenly, a startlingly clear image surfaces at the back of Daniel's mind. Tag matches turning into tag titles, titles turning into a betrayal to feed the storyline; and then the redemption arc.

Then, a reunion. Full circle. Squared circle.

It's breathtaking, in truth. The easy push and pull, the synergy buzzing in the air between them, Max struggling out of the submission hold to pin Daniel's shoulders against the mat. A brash fucking attempt for a pin; he kicks out at one and rolls some distance away, eyeing Max to add to the dramatic of their unlikely clash. 

The crowd goes wild. Daniel stretches his lips in a smile, sharp like the jagged edges of the glass they pour out for hardcore matches. He catches himself thinking that he'd go for one with Max. Maybe just to see those lips bloodied, returning his smile tenfold. 

Time's almost out, the referee lets them know discreetly. Daniel lets Max turn the tide, drive him head first into the wall of the cage, hitting through the ropes with a clang. Daniel's head gets beaten against the turnbuckle, his back slammed against the mat with a perfectly executed chokeslam and the crowd gasps with sympathy. Max busies himself with prying the gate of the cage open, acting the heel part eerily well as Daniel catches his breath, sells Max's beating appropriately, without an overkill. 

He pulls Daniel outside of the cage, outside the ring, dragging his face against the barricade towards the commentator table. Max makes sure to interact with the crows, give them an opportunity to hate him, call him names. Something akin to adoration swells in Daniel's chest; he doesn't understand where it's coming from and then Max clotheslines him hard and he crumbles onto the floor lined with thin mats.

Good move, that. Suits the set up right.

Max almost throws a middle finger to the crowd and starts climbing the side of the cage with a single intent, much to the horror of the arena. Yeah, real fucking marks but Daniel wouldn't have it any other way. He counts to thirty in his head, sprawled flat on his back near the commentator table, having one of their tiny screens jammed in his midsection before by Max's enthusiastic efforts. He counts and follows the lines of Max's body, the broadness of his shoulders and the paleness of his skin. It makes Daniel's mind wander anew, in a direction it shouldn't, not in the middle of a high-risk match. 

The crowd gets antsy, urging Daniel to get the hell up, and so he does, Max halfway up on the cage, unknowing, with a sinister plan of his own. His muscles protest but it's hardly anything new. Daniel manages to catch up to Max in a flurry of adrenaline-addled motion, reaching up to hook his hand in Max's ridiculous shorts. Max looks down at him, expression purely shocked to satisfy the crowd and Daniel counts again as he tugs. Once, twice.

It's never pleasant, plummeting down and straight onto the commentator table. It breaks with a horrible sound under Max's back and he lies there, unmoving, the commentators standing not far away, still doing their job. Daniel hangs onto the slippery metal of the cage, listening to the crowd yelling and frothing at the mouth for him to do the thing they all came here for. He raises one hand and pumps his fists in the air twice, eliciting a reaction that makes his mind go into an overdrive. 

He takes a breath, bending his elbow for his signature move and jumps.

The Ricciardo Special lands beautifully on Max's midsection, making him yelp and seize from the pain. Daniel is so used to hitting the ground this way but the calmness that comes hand in hand with the fall is forever unsettling. Max breathes raggedly underneath him, limbs akimbo and his eyes half-shut, eyelashes fanning his splotched cheeks. From Daniel's point of view he looks like someone gave him a fuck of a lifetime. The sight makes Daniel's heart skip.

In the wreckage at the ringside, the perpetual hunger Daniel left unsated stirs impatiently, awakening from a famished slumber.  

Max's body under his own feels like it belongs; feels like a missing piece finally fitting. It hits Daniel like a freight train, the all-encompassing normalcy in the midst of controlled chaos.

He squeezes Max's wrist twice in a silent question, their limbs tangled together on the broken bits of the table. Max's fingers twitch against his hold — yes, I'm okay. 

And the show goes on towards the long-awaited climax. 

It takes Daniel thirty seconds to peel Max off the floor by the back of his neck, squeezing tight and roughly hauling him back inside the cage, rolling them both into the ring. It's a whole ordeal, his body exhausted and Max matches him there, too, playing the beaten to the pulp heel as if he's been doing it since he learned how to walk. Daniel drags him to the middle of the mat again, admiring the pliancy with which Max follows. There's a persistent ringing in his ears and an electric shock wracks through him when he gets his hand's on parts of Max's body he managed not yet to touch, no resistance as he bends him in half, Daniel's palm sliding against the sweaty skin under Max's knees. The referee appears next to them, slamming his palm against the mat.

One. Two. 

And when Max eats the pin like he's supposed to, like they've settled in the pre-match booking with Christian, Max's prominent mouth pressed into a thin line making Daniel think who the fuck does this jobber think he is, all the sounds of the packed arena rush into his ears as the bell rings and the cage finally lifts, freeing them. The crowd erupts and Daniel rolls over onto his back, gulping air, Max's arm pinned under him, sweaty skin sticking together. His music hits like a fucking tornado; another win sequred under his belt but all Daniel can muster at that moment is to turn his head against the stiffness in his neck, catching Max's gaze already trained on him. Mouth open, chest rising up and falling so rapidly Daniel seems to lose his breath again. 

Or perhaps it's the shine in Max's eyes, their color clear-blue like the spotlights above. Daniel finds it hard to look away and he desperately needs to drag himself to his feet, clutch the championship belt to his chest, an assurance of his stature; something solid to hang on to.

Max asked to wrestle him first. Daniel grasps at the foreign feeling blooming behind his ribcage.

His win doesn't feel like one. Not with Max suddenly so close to claiming a space for himself, claiming what's his and he's so damned good it scares Daniel momentarily. But the fear dissipates as quickly as the pain does when someone lands a chair shot just the right way. A satisfying kind of pain. With a slight twitch of his mouth, Max is the first to move away, further to the ropes. The skin of his back is angry red, the mess of moles speckled with blood where the impact from the commentator table scratched and tore into his flesh. 

Max rolls off the ring and limps up the ramp, holding his ribs gingerly. He turns when the referee raises Daniel's hand and he manages to straighten the other one with belt in it, showing it off as you still got it echoes in a thousand voices. For the first time he doesn't revel in the outpour of love and adoration, the crowd clapping and chanting his name. He doesn't look them over with a smile and his chest still feels caged, much like he and Max were moments ago, locked in what wasn't just a match. 

Something snaps; something ends. Daniel feels the shift clear, like the Earth tilting on its axis taking him with it and leaving Max standing still, his scuffed, golden boots rooted firmly to the ground. The weight of the championship belt turns laden, drags Daniel deep into the uncharted waters as he stares Max down, challenging and unabashed, blood thrumming with adrenaline. The bundled tightness in his chest lingers and lingers and lingers.

A corner of Max's mouth quirks up, eyes crinkling; no real malice behind them, just an answer to a soundless call, a promise for more. 

Daniel feels like he's the one plummeting down from the cage, from the top of a tower he built in his own name, not with stone but with blood, sweat and tears. Max follows suit, crashing into him without reservation, raw talent and blunt force, the soft edges of him breaking through skin and bone going straight for the heart; straight for the pin. 

The count follows, inescapably.

In his mind, Daniel doesn't kick out. 

[wildcardaces]

@agent-a-cpfancomic "fallout penguin" edition!

It's a small one this time because my pen ran out of ink XD

Anna: ...why is G billys signature in fallout...?

Anna is shook, Shawn is about to bring the house down with pure, unbridled laughter AKFHALFHAKFH

Anna: you have to stop saying "is dumb" at the end of all your sentences.

Shawn: I am the god of eloquence and everything I say is as strong as a rabid rhino.

Annas pep talk is about to become a talk about reigning In complexes *wheeze*

And the finale!

Quil: yaoi attack yaoi attack-

Shawn: CAN YOU STOP--

Quil: --YAOI ATTACK.

Shawn and quill vibing part 8000

[insane-control-room]

tied

Joey has no choice.

Henry wants him to wear a bow. Joey does not want to.

Maybe it's not serious, but an incident with Sammy makes Joey reconsider.

ink demonth - bow

Swap AU Rated: T Warnings: violence, emotional abuse, overwork, suicidal ideation, depression AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58578145 Length: 2000

Joey’s hands shook ever so slightly as he drew. Whether it was from the slight pain in his bones, to the touch of fear in his heart, or the seething sigh of anger in his lungs. 

He had to draw. 

Funny, how things shift. One day, he is the face (or at least, his mask is) of a relatively successful animation studio, the next, he is nearly murdered by his own workers- until rescued by his co-founder and then reduced to a mere animator in his ‘saving’. 

‘It would be a good thing, Joey’, Henry told him, ‘you’ll get to keep working on the toons, and the employees won’t hate you. I’ve got the helm’. 

Joey had no choice but to give the studio over to his partner. Not if he wanted to stay. So there he was, animating away with a pinching pain in his wrist and his eyes hurting (he could not tell if it was from wanting to cry, or from being awake for too long). 

Then later learning that it was Henry’s coup to begin with admittances from Bertrum, grim confirmation from Shawn. His grip tightened on the pen, dipping it into the ink with deliberate motions so as to reduce the forcefulness behind his actions. He breathed, trying to ignore the memories of the past swarming at his thoughts. 

His tie felt too tight on his neck. A noose. 

He shuddered as he remembered a few weeks prior, when Henry was more overbearing than usual, when his already frail mental health had snapped for some time. Joey was too tall for it to be effective, but the act of sitting on a bar stool with a tight rope around his throat….

It was so tranquil that it frightened him. The languid peace that wafted over him made him slowly remove the coil from under his jaw, his hands eerily steady as he drew it away. The fact that he was so accepting of such a dour end saddened him. Even on the worst days as the studio head, Joey would have abhorred such an action; and the fact that he had contemplated it with such calmness now unnerved him. 

What made him keep going was Linda, Henry’s daughter. The girl needed someone in her life, as her father had become quite preoccupied with the studio. Henry would say that he had been occupied with the work prior to taking over, but Joey was well aware that was not the case. As well as should not be the case now, as along with his tripled animation duties, Joey retained most of his old work as well. Henry only put his name and signature on it. Henry had also left Linda to Joey’s care most nights.

Johan adjusted his tie, feeling himself growing hot with discomfort. A sad anger- he could care less about the studio, it was Henry’s treatment that upset him so badly. Of his daughter, of the employees (what with the layoffs to give others “raises”), of the toons- hell, ignore how Henry treated Joey himself! 

Joey stiffened as he felt a hand on his shoulder, landing firmly, and yet, causing a shiver to run down his spine. 

“Hello, doll,” Henry said, his tone amiable and low. Joey mustered a smile in greeting- hoping that this was one of his (former) business partner’s ‘nice’ days. “How goes the animating?” 

“I think I am m-making progress,” Joey replied, eyes dropping to the papers. His hands fiddled with the pen in his grip. “I’m on frame, um, s-six thousand s-seven hundred thirty two.”

“Good,” Henry purred. “Only around five hundred to go. That should be a week.”

Joey clenched his jaw, turning back to the papers. A hundred frames a day. Plus all the paperwork, too. As well as whatever else Joey’s brain was too overloaded to think about. 

“Right,” he replied, quietly. Then, he inhaled softly to garner some courage. “Henry, c-can we- I mean, can you, please hire back one of the junior animators? F-for….”

He swallowed harshly as he took in the smile on his friend’s face. Chiding in composition; steely cold in his gaze.

Joey finished his words in the slightest mumble, “For midframes or the such….”

To Joey’s surprise, Henry gave a contemplative hum. 

“I’ll think about it.” Henry said, baffling Joey even more. “I’ll give you something to think about in the meantime, though.” 

Ah. Here comes the catch. Joey forced a smile- it was almost certainly crooked on his face. 

“What is it, Henry?” he asked, trying to keep from sounding too nervous. “I really can’t take w-work home any more than I already do.”

“No, no, it’s nothing to do with work,” Henry laughed lowly, shaking his head. His curls followed the motion in a way that Joey may have described as charming in the past, but now made his stomach tighten with apprehension. Henry’s finger stroked down Joey’s tie. “Why don’t you wear a bow tie, Jo? Match your little devil darling a bit more.” 

Johan shifted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable. 

“I like my tie,” he replied quietly, now fiddling with it. Henry did not seem impressed with that answer, but to Joey’s relief, did not push on the topic. He touched over Johan’s tie for another moment, a single, gentle stroke, and then shrugged. Joey was about to turn back to his work when Henry remarked; “Don’t forget, dinner is at six.”

“I won’t forget,” Joey murmured. Henry leaned closer, a slight, steely smirk on his lips. Joey shifted backwards, trying to get some breathing room. “I w-won’t.”

“Cigarettes are not adequate dinner, Johan.”

Johan felt his throat constrict, resisting the urge to swallow. So Henry had found the pack he had bought and kept in secret. 

Henry leaned back away, fingers stroking down Johan’s chest as he did. Joey did his best not to shiver. With the swagger of a wholly confident and fulfilled man, Henry sauntered out of the nearly empty art department, then paused at the doorway out. 

“We could use some helping hands in here again,” he mused, making Joey’s heart lighten a touch. “Nicholson and Lambert- they were good. I’ll get in contact with them.”

“Thank you,” Joey said, but he spoke a moment too soon, as Henry raised a finger with a wolfish grin. Joey felt his heart start to sink again. “A condition?”

“Start wearing a bow tie,” Henry replied, winking. Joey could not tell if he was serious or not. “See you at dinner, honeybee.” 

Johan felt the discomfort on his neck again. He lifted his small cup of tea, hands trembling as he sipped from it, hoping that it would reduce the pain residing terribly in his throat. Keep animating, Joey. Just keep animating. 

The phone to the animation “department” rang. Joey sighed, pushing himself up and making his way to the ringing device. He picked it up, and did not announce himself- as everyone knew that it was just Joey there. It was a musician, sounding vaguely apologetic. They let him know that Sammy was calling him down to the music department. Joey nodded, and then realized that a nod cannot be seen through the phone, and said that he would be there in a moment. 

Picking up his cane, he began the shambling decent to the music hall. Most of the workers generally avoided him, either from dislike, embarrassment, or uncertainty. He got a few smiles and waves, though, and it made him feel just that bit better. 

Eventually, he made it to Sammy’s office. He knocked timidly, and Sammy grumbled for Joey to enter. Joey did as requested, quietly coming into the office. Sammy turned to face him, glaring for no apparent reason. 

“You c-called for me, Sammy?” Joey asked, shifting on his feet. Sammy squinted at him, lip curling into a snarl. “I- I mean, Mr. Lawrence.” 

“Not good enough,” Sammy growled at him, eyes narrow and angered. Joey blinked at him, confused and uncomfortable. “I need a token, Drew. I need a proof of your devotion, of your servitude.”

“That’s an incredibly weird and d-disquieting thing to say,” Joey commented. Sammy’s lip curled, an angry glint in his eye.Joey quickly attempted to recover the situation, biting his lip. “I think y-you need a break. A coffee?” 

“Bow.” Sammy demanded. Joey stared, blinking at him. Sammy stood up, glaring at the tall man with a crazed look in his eye. “I said, bow.”

“No!” Joey stepped back, shaking his head. “That’s- that’s ridiculous, Sammy. I can call you Mr. Lawrence and treat you as respectfully as I can, but I’m not indulging this- this madness!”

Joey did not have an instant to get away from Sammy’s grasping hand. It wrapped tightly around his tie, yanking Joey forward. 

“When I say to bow,” Sammy hissed, pulling him even more. Joey choked on the tug, trying to pull away from the mad musician. “I mean bow!”

He pulled even harder, knocking Joey off balance. The only reason Joey did not fall to the floor was his cane, tightly gripped in his hand. Joey scrambled to escape from him, but Sammy only grabbed his tie again. The black end in his pale hand flashed in Joey’s eye as he choked again. Sammy kicked at the cane in Joey’s hand, knocking it to the side. Sammy threw him to the floor again, Joey barely having time to catch himself on his hands to break his fall. Sammy kicked him in the stomach, making him curl up with the sudden, sharp pain. 

“There,” Sammy huffed, out of breath. He stared down at the artist on the floor. “That’s better. Good. Anyways…” he returned to the desk. “I wanted to tell you that the next episode’s music is nearly ready. Go tell Norman. Also, your last sync work was shoddy. Make sure you do better, next time.”

Joey was already pulling himself from the floor, hand tremblingly wrapping around his cane, backing away from Sammy slowly, holding the cane in front of himself. Sammy turned to face him, and anger spiked once again. 

“Did I say you can get up!?” he roared, and even Joey’s swinging cane did not deter him. He grabbed Joey’s tie again, and jerked him towards himself. Joey shoved him, but felt his tie tightening in Sammy’s grip- noticing that the man was doing it on purpose. Joey tried, desperately, to get away, though his skipped meals and reduced sleep and anxieties made it nearly impossible to even squirm. He felt his throat closing up tighter, and he scrambled at Sammy’s hands on his tie, trying to pull him off of the silk fabric. “You are nothing, Drew! You do as you’re told, you have no choice!” 

Just as Joey felt his vision going dark, he was dropped. Unable to really move, he crumpled to the ground, pulling off his tie and gasping. When his vision returned, he saw Norman chewing out Sammy, and then his hearing- which he had not even noticed fading- returned, heard it. 

“You need to apologize!” Norman was scolding him. “Joey’s going through enough, you don’t need to put more on his plate!” 

“I’m… fine,” Joey replied, his voice hoarse. Norman swiveled to look at him. Joey backed out of the room. “I’m going back to work.”

“Johan,” Norman reached for the man. Johan flinched back. “Joey….”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Joey slipped away, his tie woven between his trembling fingers. 

Henry did not mention Joey’s missing tie at dinner, but he did look at his throat. No comments were made, only the request to help Linda with her homework. Joey happily obliged, loving spending time with his- not his- daughter. 

Joey took his tie into the bathroom. 

He carefully undid the seams. 

Remade it. 

Henry complimented his new bow tie the next morning, calling him a handsome devil. 

Even as Joey forced a smile, he felt his throat grow tight. 

[mediamixs]

Scary Movie 6: the great saga is back

Scary Movie 6 is set to make a comeback, marking the first installment in over a decade and the first to be directed by the Wayans brothers since Scary Movie 2. The franchise, which began in 2000, has been a staple in the horror-comedy genre, known for its sharp parodies of popular slasher films.

Key Details About Scary Movie 6

Production and Release

Filming Schedule: Production for Scary Movie 6 is slated to begin in 2025. While an exact release date has not been confirmed, it is expected to hit theaters sometime in 2025.

Creative Team: The Wayans brothers—Marlon, Shawn, and Keenen—are returning not only as writers but also as potential stars of the film. This reunion is particularly significant as it marks their first collaboration on the franchise in nearly two decades. **Plot

Although specific plot details are currently under wraps, it is anticipated that the film will parody recent horror hits, similar to its predecessors. This could include references to contemporary films like Scream, Get Out, and The Conjuring series. Marlon Wayans hinted at the excitement of returning to their roots with a modern twist on the franchise.

Cast

As of now, no cast members have been officially announced. However, there is considerable fan interest in having original stars like Anna Faris and Regina Hall reprise their roles. Additionally, actress Melissa Barrera has expressed interest in joining the cast after her recent departure from Scream 7. Franchise Background

The original Scary Movie was released in 2000 and became a cultural phenomenon, known for its comedic take on horror tropes. The series has since released five films, with the last one coming out in 2013. The return of the Wayans brothers is seen as a pivotal move to revitalize the series and bring back its signature humor. Expectations

Fans are eager for a return to the franchise's R-rated roots, which suggests that Scary Movie 6 will embrace the edgy humor that characterized earlier films. The involvement of Rick Alvarez as a writer indicates that audiences can expect a fresh yet familiar comedic style.

In summary, Scary Movie 6 promises to be an exciting revival of a beloved franchise, with the Wayans brothers at the helm once again. As production progresses, more details about casting and plot developments are likely to emerge.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

I was wondering if you have followed the story of Chappell Roan addressing fan behaviour?

https://people.com/chappell-roan-addresses-fans-predatory-behavior-in-lengthy-note-8700923

I have been following - and I love so much that she's both drawing boundaries and talking about it.

As I've said before, I think the fact that the pop stars breaking through this year are 26 rather than 16 is pretty significant - and the ability and willingness to draw this sort of boundaries is part of it. I remember reading a profile of Shawn Mendes when he was younger where he had three rules - and the one I can remember was that he would never refuse a fan a signature or a picture. I found that rule terrifying then. The idea that you can or should keep every single fan happy in a personal interaction is such a burden - one that people can't really bear. I think it's fantastic that artists are prepared to very publicly not do that.

It has been terrifying to see some people not getting it some of the responses have shown exactly why what she's saying is important. I feel like as she's held firm, more people have acknowledged her points (although the exact dynamic is hard to tell, because it is so hard to )

There is actually one thing that she said in both her Tik Tok videos and instagram statements that I disagreed with. And I've been thinking about a little bit - to figure out if I'm comfortable with where I'm sitting (that's why I haven't reblogged any of the material).

In her instagram she said 'please stop assuming things about me.'In her video when asking people about a random lady: 'would you assume she's a good person, would you assume she's a bad person, would you assume everything you read online was true.'

And in my head I answered 'oh yeah I make assumptions about random ladies all the time.'

Recently in the space of about ten minutes, two different friends told me personal gossip about two different people who had been involved in making my friend redundant at her work. I immediately passed on both of those pieces of gossip on to her, with my own embelishments, assumptions and implications.

While I think that an important part of acknowledging people's humanity and being able to navigate relationships is moving away from black and white thinking. I also think making judgements and assumptions is a key part of humanity and we cannot and should not give it up.I do think both those people are bad people, because they made my friend redundant (and any inclinations towards generosity I find it pretty easy to smother with the fact that they chose to take roles where they had the power to get rid of other people's jobs).

I find it terrifying that I don't know and can't control what people think about me and the stories people are telling - and I really am just a random lady. I'm sure it's exponentially more terrifying being Chappell Roan. But I also think it's true that what people think of us isn't actually our business - whereas the way people treat us is.

It's not surprising that that line is blurred for Chappell Roan at the moment. She has a lot of people violating her boundaries in all sorts of ways and people making their assumptions about her and then making those assumptions her problem. And I think her publicly communicating her boundaries and standing by them is an important cultural intervention.