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mr-wrestlemania · 1 month ago

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Living Legends(Monster Au) Chapter 4 Update

"Rehearsals are over. The Day has finally come. Shawn has to go through with leaving the rockers, but he struggles with navigating his emotions"

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58924921/chapters/170546398

Previous Chapter

Smoke seeped through the window of the Rocker's rental car and left a depressing trail behind them. Shawn could only cope with the silence while high but it still itched at him through his buzz.

“Do we have a signal yet…?” Shawn sighed.

Marty tried fiddling with the dial but only static came through the speakers. “Not yet.. We should here soon, I think the last sign said our exit is coming up.”

“Finally, fuck. I'll listen to anything at this point.”

“Aww, getting restless?” Marty grinned as he gunned across a few lanes.

“Maybe-” Shawn jolted as the radio roared to life with the loudest guitar riff possible. The unmistakable vocals of Asia nearly made him piss himself.

“Shit!! I forgot sorry.” Marty giggled as he lowered the volume.

“Dickhead.” Shawn flipped him off and leaned back in his seat.

Marty began to quietly sing along to the song, “The disco hot spots hold no charm for you.~ You can concern yourself with bigger things. You catch a pearl and ride the dragon's wings.”

His singing was just awful but Shawn couldn't carry a tune either. He smiled while Marty carried on and relished in his sudden burst of energy. “Heaaaat of the moment!!!” Marty wailed, “Shown in your eeeeeyyyyyeeesss.~ And when your looks have gone and you're alone. How many nights you sit beside the phone? What were the things you wanted for yourself? Teenage ambitions, you remember well!”

They glanced at each other and turned up the volume.

“”It was the heeeaaat of the moment!!!! Telling you what your heart meant! The heat of the moment showed in your eeeyyyes. It was the heat of the moment! The heat of the moment! The heat of the moment showed in your eyes..””

Their singing was terrible but they belted out in the car without a care in the world. The song felt too ironic but Shawn didn't really give it much thought. All he could really think about was that it would be one of the last times they'd be on the road as a team.

Marty changed the station and exhaled at their burst of singing. “That felt good. You remember what exit we're looking for?”

Shawn snorted and checked their fold up map, “Uhhh… not A, look for B. Should be right after-”

“-DAMMIT!” Marty swerved the car, nearly running into a car but made it into the exit land by the skin of his teeth. “Ahaha.. that was close.”

“Fucks sake Marty..” Shawn leaned forward onto the dashboard, “You almost made me religious for a second..”

“Sorry.” Marty hummed, “..Uh what street was the hotel on?”

Shawn rolled eyes as he checked his pocket journal. Maybe he'd miss these moments in the future, but he hoped whoever he traveled with next would be better at directions.

Their barbershop segment was that night, so the Rockers really only had a few hours to decompress. Marty was hogging the shower and Shawn was busy shaving his chest in front of the mirror.

“You're probably the hairiest vampire I know.” Marty said through the curtain.

“I'm probably the only vampire you know besides my family.” Shawn huffed and moved onto his arms.

“You think Bret is hairier than you, or is that stereotyping him too much?”

The thought made Shawn sigh through his nose. Yeah he'd seen Bret almost completely nude but Shawn had way more hair than his friend. The irony wasn't lost on him for sure.

Bret was a lot wider than him, built like a fridge if he had to make a comparison. Their hands weren't that different in size, but Shawn felt his mind start to wander.

‘What is his mid transformation self like.. Does he lose his cool? Would his animal instincts take over? He did snap at us not long ago.. does that mean a full moon is soon?’

Marty stepped out of the shower and rubbed his hair roughly with his towel. “Shawn? You lost in thought?? Hellooo??”

Shawn blinked and looked at Marty through the mirror, “I was yeah.” He splashed water on his warm face and sighed. “My turn.”

The blonde man dumped his towel behind and moved into the vacant shower. Marty sighed when Shawn started the water and sat on the toilet lid.

“Did thinking about Bret get you that bothered?” Marty hummed, almost monotone.

“No. It's nothing.” Shawn felt his face heat up, but the hot water certainly wasn't helping. “It just made me think of what he tasted like-”

“No way. You fed off him?! In which way?? Did Jim catch you?”

“...Yeah I did. Neither of them know about it though. I didn't bite Bret obviously.”

Marty snickered, “He'd beat your ass, you're right. Sooo you ate his energy?”

Shawn furrowed his brows. Marty was trying to paint a picture but he usually wasn't so nosy when Shawn went after women..

“Yeah. Just by touching him a little. I didn't feel comfortable kissing him while he was asleep. Why?”

“Just making sure you were smart about it. To say I'm worried about how you'll sustain yourself after we split is an understatement, brother.”

“I'll worry about it, you aren't my handler Marty.” Shawn sneered as he scrubbed his skin.

“Okay okay.” Marty started to fix his hair up and felt a question crawl up his spine. “Shawn? What did he taste like?”

Silence.

Shawn lifted his head to feel the hot water run through his scalp like scalding fingers. The taste of Bret’s energy flooded his mouth and it started to water. He quickly swallowed and leaned his back against the wall.

“Strong. He was so clean, but there was a light bitter taste. I couldn't tell where it came from, but I haven't had many like him.”

He jerked himself forward to shove his head back under the shower head.

‘That's why I cant stop thinking about him.. he's still fresh in me. Makes more sense than-’

“Well hurry up! We gotta get started on your hair soon.” Marty chirped.

Shawn took a deep breath and stopped the water. “Right. I'll be out in a minute.”

Marty exited the bathroom to find his clothes and paused mid stride.

‘Is this the last time I'll be helping him with his hair…?’ Marty sat down on the edge of their bed to slip on some underwear.

His chest ached with jealousy but he already let it get out of hand once. The Rocker's last days wouldn't be full of fights, not if Marty could help it. He needed to be better. It just felt all too late..

The bus ride to the Superstar set was rather tense for The Rockers. Instead of their matching flamboyant gear, Shawn had a leather jacket on and Marty had casual clothes on. Their eyes hardly met and just darted around to the chaos around them.

Between Hogan and Randy trying not to kill each other, other baby faces were chatting away. Shawn sighed through his nose.

‘Wonder if I'll recognize anyone on the heel bus,’ He thought to himself, ‘Not like I could be seen riding with these guys after we officially break up.’

Bret had came onto the bus by himself, his face was as glassy as Shawn's. He perked a little, and whistled over at Bret.

“Wait- Shit I didn't mean that as a dog call-” Shawn almost shrank.

Bret's glassy eyes cracked while smiling at Shawn. It felt like an inside joke between the two rather than Shawn trying to get under his skin.

“Well that's not fair, I have no ammo against you y'know.” Bret plopped his gear in the seat in front of the rockers and nodded at Marty. “Today's the day then?”

“..Yeah.” Marty sighed out his mouth, “I'm kinda nervous actually. You think there will be a medic nearby?”

Shawn smiled and shrugged, “There usually is. I think.”

“That's not reassuring.” Marty groaned, “I'll just have to ask before it's go time..”

Bret raised a brow, “How bad is this breakup gonna be for you to need a medic?”

“Little wilder than you and Jim's I'd wager.” Shawn stretched, “You'll have to wait and see.”

“Ohh that's right.” Marty scratched his neck, “So both of you are going into singles then?”

Bret raised his brows with a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes, “Want me to throw him around for you? As revenge for whatever he's gonna do to you?”

Shawn scoffed, “What makes you think I'll be the bad guy?”

“The leather jacket isn't very subtle.”

Marty nodded, “It's okay Bret. I'll have plenty of chances to do that. Wrestling with Shawn is one thing, but AGAINST him? That could be fun now that I'm thinking about it.”

“Really? You mean that?” Shawn turned to Marty, trying to figure out if Marty was just bullshitting him.

“Yeah. Long as I still get to work with you, y'know? Besides, a rivalry could be a good push for us both I guess.” He shrugged.

“It'll take some getting used to, but it doesn't mean your friendship is over guys. You'll just have to go about it differently in the public eye.” Bret noticed the bus began to move so he sat down.

The thought of their rehearsals made Shawn's mind race. He glanced at Marty, who was humming away idly. The adrenaline was also pumping through Shawn’s undead heart and crawling under his skin. He swallowed and restlessly gripped his pants.

“So the rumors are true? They're breaking up?” The rowdy piper was getting his ring gear on with Bret nearby.

Bret shrugged, “Seems like it. Shawn's been too nervous to talk about it very much. They're doing the final shoot for their segment at the barbershop I think.”

Roddy laughed and shut his locker. “About time. It'll be interesting to see who sinks and who floats.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bret looked over his shoulder.

“Bret, there's a certain…way tag teams work. You should know, after all. One member rises up, carves a legacy for himself. The other just can't keep up. He doesn't have what it takes and fades into the background .” Roddy shrugged his shoulders and fastened his kilt. “Makes us wonder which one you'll be, kid.”

Bret looked at the same corner in the locker room Roddy stared at and Shawn's blonde hair peeked out from the side of a locker. His body looked rigid and stiff.

“Roddy cut that shit out!” He moved over to see Shawn with his back against the locker. “Hey, don't let him in your head. I doubt it'll actually happen to you bud.”

“If not him, then you better be ready to watch your pal Marty drown.” Roddy hummed, “Is that what you want? To pay for the chance to be like us?”

Shawn tugged on the sleeves of his leather jacket and his eyes darted away. He sucked in air through his nose and glared back, “You'll see. I'm never going back to some Joe Schmoe promotion.”

Shawn's reaction made Roddy seem happier than ever. His silver tongue made it all too easy. He hummed, “We'll be watching, just like everyone out there. Give it your all!” He laughed as he left the locker room.

Bret looked at his friend and shook his head, “Don't let him get to you, I mean it. It's kind of his thing to get under people's skin.. it's not as dramatic as he's making it out to be-”

“-Yeah? Really Bret? Where's Jim?” Shawn put his hands on his hips.

Bret tried to loosen his shoulders,“...Some things are out of our control. It doesn't mean-”

Shawn had to take another breath and turned away from Bret.

As Shawn started to walk out, Bret stopped him by patting his shoulder, “Hey. Keep your head screwed on, okay? You've got this.”

“..Thanks. I’m sorry I- I know the thing with Jim is still fresh..” Shawn's jaw loosened a little.

“I know.” Bret shook his head, “He’ll be fine and so will you. I know you’re just a little wound up and you don’t mean it.”

“God you’re such a saint.” Shawn chuckled, “You better watch the promo, promise?” Bret chuckled, “Alright. Deal. Knock em dead.”

The encounter with Roddy was strange for Shawn. Not long ago, The Piper suggested Shawn could be a solo talent, and then started to question if he'd even make it??? Shawn rubbed the center of his chest to ease the tension.

Brutus Beefcake walked over and noticed how tense Shawn was. “Want a water?”

“Thanks. Are my nerves that obvious?” He chugged the bottle halfway and set it aside.

“Kind of? I know it's a huge change for you kid but trust me those jitters will be adrenaline when we're wrapping up.” Brutus chuckled, his energy was infectious, even if Shawn’s anxiety was through the roof.

“Man I hope you're right-”

“MJ in the ho-woouuse!!!” Marty hooted as he entered the backstage area. “Sorry you waited on me. Had to make sure my hair was perfect. Needs to bounce when you kick me, whaddya think?”

The dread of their fates faded from his mind as Marty bounced around. For all his faults, the brunette did know how to take the tension out of any situation.

“It looks perfect, Marty.” Shawn's smile was bittersweet.

Marty met Shawn's gaze and returned the soft grin, “We can get sappy afterwards, okay? If you start crying there's no stopping me and you're such a damn crybaby-”

“Oh fuck off man.” Shawn rolled his eyes as he laughed.

“Places everyone! We're about to start!”

His chest started to tighten again as he was ushered off camera. He looked back at Marty and Brutus and stood as still as he could. Marty soon joined him and nudged him.

They had to be quiet, but their eyes did the talking. The crowd roaring for Brutus hardly phased them.

‘I'm sorry.’ Shawn tried to say with a glance.

Marty broke away as he heard Brutus call for them.

“Let's welcome them now!! The Rockers!!!”

On cue, they strolled out to their theme music. Marty wore a red t shirt tucked into his pants and Shawn wore black pants and a leather jacket.

He could smell the audience's curiosity about the segment but had to hone back in on the others. No distractions. Stay in character.

Shawn's stance changed as he looked around with a smirk. Marty waved at the fans as Brutus grabbed his microphone.

“Recently there's been a lot of controversy, a lot of rumors going on about you guys. Its even right here in the World Wrestling Federation's pages of this magazine.” Brutus pulled out a magazine that featured the two on separate pages.

Shawn hardly remembered the article, but he looked damn good in that photoshoot. He remained aloof and had his hands on his hips and a distant look in his eyes.

“They're saying you guys might break up, you're having some problems.. I wanted to get yall out here on the barbershop so we can talk about this thing and get it all straightened out. Once and for all.”

Shawn stepped forward, “Let me tell you something Beefcake, there's no doubt that The Rockers are without a doubt, the tightest team in the World Wrestling Federation. I know the rumors have been flying but I assure you as the captain of this team; the guy that has put all of this together-”

Marty looked around, realistically looking irritated. Part of Shawn did believe he carried Marty and Marty knew. It made his skin itch hot.

“-That there are no problems with The Rockers, Whatsoever. I can assure you-”

Marty held his hand out and almost had it close to Shawn's neck but grabbed the mic instead. “Hold on, let's get one thing Shawn, we're not gonna come out here and lie to the people. Everyone knows that there is friction between The Rockers. We're gonna straighten it out, tonight.”

“First of all. Listen to yourself. A captain of the rockers?” Marty shook his head, “Nobody ever picked a captain for this team, because we did everything together! Lets take it a few weeks back actually. We lost a match because I went for the tag, and you were busy outside the ring. Flirting with the girls in the audience actually.”

Shawn grinned and shrugged as he swayed side to side, “What do you want from me? Chicks dig me.

“That's fine.” Marty's voice dropped enough to make Shawn finally look at him, “What about that other match we had where I was on top of-”

Marty got cut off by Shawn getting a little closer, his brows furrowed in the audacity of his words. “Now hold on a second, are you just putting the blame on me? Did we come out here to just shoot the blame back and forth?”

Shawn snickered, “Fine. Lets do that. Here I am, wrestling Rick Flair , something you have never done.” He wagged a finger in Martys face. He could tell it still hurt Marty underneath the persona, but in that moment it only made things taste better. “And I'm going to give him the wrestling lesson of his life. But then here you come..to save the day.”

He gestured towards a monitor that showed footage of Marty sabotaging his match by rolling him back into the ring.

“First of all Shawn, I wasn't out there to save the day. I was out there because you hit your head on the railing. I was concerned for you . Your wellbeing! I was-”

Shawn just chuckled and leaned back in, “Your concern for my well being? Did somewhere down the line, I tell you that I needed help? I don't remember.”

Marty shook his head, “Take a listen to yourself man, I don’t know what's going on in your head.. For a long time we’ve stuck together through thick and thin. We’ve watched each other’s backs but now I don’t know where you’re coming from anymore.” He pointed to Shawn’s head, “I don’t know what's going on in there anymore with Shawn Michaels. But I know one thing. I want this thing to work with the Rockers.”

He gestured towards his partner and the crowd, “Together, we can make it to the top, but it's up to you Shawn Michaels. It's up to you, do you want it? I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to turn my back to you right now. And if you want to go on your own, then walk off and leave. If you wanna stick together and make this thing work, when I turn around we’re gonna shake hands and we’re gonna rock and roll. Just like the Rockers can do.

The stare between them made the air feel as heavy as a wet bamboo pillow. Brutus took a step back as Marty turned his back to Shawn. The audience yelled in anticipation for what Shawn would do and Shawn could smell their anxiety…their tantalizing captivation. It fueled him to step toward Marty and force him to turn around. Marty blinked rapidly at Shawn, watching his every move but finally smiled when a hand was held out toward him. Marty tightly grabbed Shawn’s hand and raised it with his own as he hooted toward the crowd. A grin as wide as the Mississippi river was on Marty’s face but Shawn only had a grin. It hardly matched Marty’s energy and was meant to be an omen for eagle eyed viewers. Shawn’s gaze returned to Marty and in a matter of seconds he let go of Marty’s hand. Before Marty could react, Shawn kicked Marty in the jaw so hard he fell backwards into the barbershop wall.

This was it. He could finally let go. He could be free. But he needed to make sure the audience never forgot that.

He lifted Marty to his feet by his hair and dragged him to the barbershop window as the announcers yelled in confusion. Marty glanced up at Shawn, almost pleading to know what was going on behind his cold eyes. Shawn didn’t even glance down as he launched Marty through the glass. The glass exploded, slicing Marty up and he dangled there in the windowsill lifelessly. Stars clouded his vision but he could hear the confusion of the crowd faintly. Shawn finally had a grin wider than Marty’s and left Marty to Brutus. He stepped toward the crowd and picked up the magazine featuring the two of them on separate pages. He briefly looked at it and his eyes flicked back up at the crowd. “It'll be interesting to see who sinks and who floats.” The Piper’s words echoed in Shawn’s ears.

His skin burned hot and he ripped the pages in half. Marty's page fell behind him like the crumbled remains of his partner on the floor. The smell of blood made Shawn sigh happily and he tapped his page with confidence in front of the crowd before walking off the stage.

Blood. Rage. Confusion . Heartbreak.

All of them filled Shawn’s chest like a breath of fresh air…and man did it feel like he shot something divine into his veins. No longer The Rocker. He could FINALLY grow into his own.

That breath was halted as Marty was rushed past to see a medic. A twinge of guilt tried to crawl up Shawn like some gross insect. Sure the window part was improvised, but Marty would understand. He had to if he wanted to survive in the business solo. He sauntered backstage, surprised to see a few wrestlers watching on the tvs. One of them was Roddy Piper. He met Shawn’s eyes and pushed past the others who were still in shock. “I’ll eat my words, you made it a good show.” Piper clasped Shawn’s hand in respect and pulled it back just as quickly as he held it out. “Now you’re in dangerous waters, kid. There’s more than one monster that swims out here…so try not to get eaten.” Shawn blinked and stepped back from the veteran. “What are you-” The Piper’s eyes blinked the wrong way as he walked away with a smirk on his face. Nobody else seemed to notice, they were still at awe at what Shawn did to Marty. Some pat him on the back to congratulate him, others just kind of gave a nod as he walked past. He didn’t care how any of them felt about him. He needed to get somewhere more private. He pushed past a few people and finally made it to the locker room and threw off his leather jacket to let his skin breathe. Sweat rolled down the side of his face and dropped to the concrete floor in eerie silence. He closed his eyes and listened to the rhythmic ticking of the clock above his head. His undead heart beat slower and slower with each passing tick. When he finally opened his eyes he nearly fell over at a random jobber standing too close to his bench. “The fuck man?! What do you want?” Shawn wiped his face and glared at the stranger. “Sorry! Sorry.. I was wondering if you knew where Jenetty was?” Shawn rolled his eyes, “With the medics.” Even when he had severed all ties with Marty, he was still stuck being his keeper. “What a joke..” He mumbled. “Sorry to bother you..” The jobber stepped away, leaving a faint scent of- “Salt..?” Shawn sat up a little, glancing at the bag the jobber carried with him.

“Shawn? There you are.. Been looking for you.” Bret pushed past the jobber and sighed, “You were great out there, but the higher ups were slightly concerned about-” Shawn groaned and leaned back again, “Let me guess, was it too bloody? Too off script?” “No, far from it. It’s just that Marty’s horns were seen when he was being wheeled back here. It shouldn’t come up on tv, so we should be safe but-” Bret’s words faded into the background while Shawn’s heart began to beat faster than ever before. “What- Who else saw him??? Nobody should have..” “A few of the guys I think. Taker talked to a few of them but one of them walked off. Don’t remember seeing that guy around here before either.” Shawn shot up onto his feet and looked at Bret with panic in his eyes, “Did he have curly hair? Carry a bag..smell like salt?” “Salt..?” Bret trailed off as his eyes widened, “Shit.” “MARTY!!” Shawn ran out of the locker room with inhuman levels of speed.

“Shawn!! Wait up!!” Bret yelled back as he chased after him through the locker room and into the backstage area.

Shawn wanted their era of The Rockers to end.

But not like this.

#shawn michaels #hbk #wwe #wwf #shawn michaels wwe #bret hart #90s wrestling #hbk wwe #hartbreak #marty janetty wwe #marty jannetty #the rockers #wrestling fanfiction #living legends fic tag

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istherewifiinhell · 1 year ago

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okay. heres what were all here for. tell me why the fuck im supposed to suck the dick of these uk comics

[ID: A man holding up an aged looking paper, with a medieval style drawing of a giant metal fire breathing man. He leans forward serious asking his son "... Did it look like this?" END]

marveltf story line, MAN OF IRON, 9-12 in the UK, or.... 33-34 in the us. alright lol do whatever i guess. first published in 1985

new vibe same procedure: Script: Steve Parkouse art: John Ridgeway (9-10) Mike Collins (11-12) Colours: Joise Fermin (9-10) Gina Hart (11-12) Nel Yomtov (US)* Letters: Richard Starkings Editor: Sheila Cranna and these caps are from the UK classics idw book so: Original Series Edits by Shelia Cranna and Ian Rimmer, editorial notes and assistance by James Roberts, Collection Edits by Justin Eisinger and Alonzo Simon, Collection Design by Shawn Lee (<- hey i know his work from turtles!)

*so the uk comics were part in colour and part B&W, to save costs... including the american reissues? printing costs i guess. but when reprinted in collected books, they would get the full colour treatment. whats not clear to me is WHO did those colours, its not listed anywhere i can find. ill simply have to assume its the same artists... and hope im not discrediting anyone....

AND ALSO the last page in this reprint apparently uses the US comic page, and i have a cap of that last page, so. Yomtov's in here too..... tf franchise the way u treat ur sacred texts breaks my turtles fan heart.

and lastly! the keen eyed may notice, we are back to toy accurate art, the character model designs haven't and wont make their way over until much later, I'm told.

well with all that perfectly convoluted business out of the way, lets explore what tfs is like across the pond.

[ID: The same man, Roy, driving as he thinks to himself "What kind of bozo would want to bomb the castle? The Saxon Liberation Front? The mind boggles…" END]

[spluttering laugh] so the humours a little different!

[ID: The boy, Sammy, climbing a tree, hand outstretched reaching for the arrow he lost. Standing, with his in the canopy is Jazz. Sammy yells in fear. END]

OKAY. so the vibes are little different

[ID: Caption Box: And the apparition was fearful, being a Man of Iron of great height and girth, seeming unheedful of quarrel, spear or sword…" The robot from the illustration, clearly transformer, but blockier, more retro scifi, standing in the middle of a medieval battle, men with chain-mail and swords looking at him with trepidation. Caption Box: The Man of Iron forded the stream at Eldric's Cross, making great strides for the abbey… and some brave souls followed, though none dared come too close…" Two of the fighters shown following him, a body shot with an arrow lays at the other side of the river. END]

damn okay. so the vibes are ALOT DIFFERENT

(no 10) sammy dreams

[ID: Sammy stands on a house rooftop, in his PJ's, looking down at the cobble street, where a seeker in alt mode rests. END]

[ID: Dark and moody art, a barely seen figure towers in the shadows over the residential houses. From a higher angle, its shown to be Mirage, he stands taking up the entire street, backlit and casting shadows. END]

WHAT THE FUCK. that is terrifying

(something about beautiful black inked art + toy model makes them so CREATURE)

[ID: Roy speaks to a man in army uniform. Roy: How large? Soldier: Well… ahh…at a rough estimate? About the size of an ocean-going liner. Roy: Whaat? Roy with a hand to his head in dismay: Well, for god's sake what is it? Solider: We don't know. I've called in extra men and we're going to excavate… END]

somethings! buried under the castle... gee well one wonders what it might be

[ID: Close on Jazz's alt mode dashboard, its filled with lights and screen of alien language. Hes saying: But I'm not a stranger, Sammy. Deep down, you know… don't you? You've been wanting an adventure all your life… Besides. I have something to tell you. Sammy looking doubtful. Jazz continues: Something really important. Sammy has a hand on Jazz's open door: Why not just sit for a while in the front seat? Just pretend you're driving… END]

JAZZ THATS KIDNAPPING BUD....

really get a kick outta this note in the printed version

[ID: REMEMBER: NEVER ACCEPT LIFTS FROM STRANGERS! TO BE CONTINUED! END]

(no 11)

[ID: Jazz speaks to Sammy on the road, a blue and white F1 car pulling up. "My name is unpronounceable in your language… so just call me Jazz! And that's Mirage right behind us!" Jazz takes a exit to a low road, a black camper truck driving alongside. "This is where we rendezvous with Trailbreaker. All set Sammy?" All three driving along, Sammy responds "Sure thing Jazz!" END]

[guitar riff] THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN. im so glad all my good friends are here.

[ID: An fiery explosion engulfing Trailbreaker with a "Whaamf!". Wheels coming off, glass shattering, the truck top blowing to bits. Trailbreaker veering off road, a trail of fire and parts behind him calls out "Jazz! I'm hit... I'm hit BAD! END]

TRAILBREAKER NOOOO. who could have seen this coming...

[ID: Jazz narrowing swerving a missile. Exploding behind him, and speedlines trail him, and a wreath in flame around him. The colours are almost delicate, and a reflective glow in his paint. END]

wha. this just looks so cool.... what the hell....

[ID: Bluesteak, smiling speaking to comms "Autobot Bluestreak to patrol leader +++ Just brushed something off your tail, Jazz+++ try to be more careful in future, hmmm? Bluestreak out+" END]

being a cunt in the work slack. king

[ID: Jazz in profile, lit under the starry night sky, soft line-less colours defining the planes of his head in blue greys, and pitch black. To Sammy he says "Not really. It's a shuttlecraft… now stand back…" To comms "Autobot Jazz To Autobot leader+++ Approaching shuttle with Surveillance Subject+++ Request permission to board+++" END]

Wuh. Huh. Jazz u look so fucking cool right now?? And handsome.....

okay whats going on back at the castle (no 12)

[ID: The army soldier half sitting on a desk, holding a phone to his ear, the rotary cradle held resting on his leg. He's saying "IT's not just a question of scale, sir. We simply cannot identify it. END]

whys he kinda... apparently this style of uniform is called temperate barrack dress?? that answers none of my questions im just kinda... whyd u draw him like that tho...

[ID: A seeker, drawn in blues, walking between the ruins of the castle. Off panel someone says "It just seemed to appear from nowhere!" END]

bigfooting it up... AT A CASTLE. oh lads. im done for [blah blah he telePORTS and thats skywarps power but hes blue so WHO is it. dont worry abt it man. dont matter. they apparently change in the various times its been coloured, which is objectively funny imho. keep em guessing]

[ID: Moody and still illustrations of a robot identical to the Man of Iron in stasis, plugged into a bed of sorts. The ship around him is dark but for strips of coloured computer like lights in the walls and floor. Caption boxes narrate: Deep beneath the Autobots feet, in a sealed chamber, a special Autobot lay waiting… He was navigator, warrior and guardian of Autobot destiny… In his long, slow, machine world, a million years were as fleeting seconds. Human history had passed over him. Small inter panels. Mid on the Guardian: Locked in his dormant brain was the location of the planet Cybertron. He waited only to be re-activated, re-integrated with his mission… Restored to life. Close on the Guardian: His attendant was no more, the link between them severed. Laying in profile, just barely defined in the pitch black: Alone in the darkness he patiently beamed his signal. The same pattern of impulses… Waiting. END]

What the actual fuck (its even more somberly dramatic than just that)

[ID: Sammy, from a distance, staring at the castle. Caption Box: Autumn came, leaves fell. Sammy was a year older and a year wiser. He never saw Jazz again… Sammy asleep in bed, moonlight pouring through his paneled window. "But on clear, sharp nights, when stars glittered like needles and the night winds rattled his window… Then he slept a fitful, fearful sleep…" Sammy sleeping, with his dreams projected above him. "And the Man of Iron walked once more through his dreams." The End]

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

um well. okay! thats. fucking crazy. and this is the only tf comic this dude ever did. okay... can u tell he was from the dr who comics...... it ALSO means this doesnt actually speak at all for what the rest of tfuk will be like. which is damn funny. LIKE WOW! THAT WAS CRAZY. anyways.

#some shit #wifi reads cisformers #wifi blogs marveltf #im some gratified to find out 4 tfuk comics only equals like. 1 mirage comic. convenient for me.#also i was i putting some of these images in my text extractor just. part of my processes.#FORGETTING THAT THEY ARE. completely wordless. fucking imagine that. letting the images do the talking #my final message: comics is fun #byeeeee

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sonuvablitz · 2 months ago

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Bret "The Hitman" Hart on my dashboard in the year 2025? That wasn't on my tumblr bingo card, for sure. 10 yo. me was so obsessed with him until Shawn Michaels took his place 4 or 5 years later.

#icchi rambles #nowadays i can't watch wwe anymore with a clean conscience #not when trump supporters are co-leading the company #looking at you triple h #but it's nice to be nostalgic about it

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obsidiancreates · 1 year ago

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One Undead To Another (Chapter 6)

(Trigger warnings: drinking as self-medication is briefly mentioned/shown, more mentions of Shawn's neck wound being Very Bad, blood drinking, murder.)

“I’m starving.”

Something about Shawn’s voice makes all three other inhabitants of the car freeze.

There’s a desperation to it, but something else, too. Some underlaying quality that feels wrong, the way the air in the house was Choked with Nothing and the way seeing Shawn bloodied and motionless and devoid of life was inconcievable and the way that-

That-

The car is silent until Lassiter speaks up. “How’s his neck, Guster?”

“I cleaned it up, but-” Gus glances over, and his entire stomach leaps into his throat. It’s horrible, it’s mangled, and it’s Shawn. “Oh my god, I can’t look at it-”

“Do not throw up in this vehicle!” Gus wants to argue that Lassie and Jules are the ones getting vampire ashes and rotten blood all over the seats, but he’s too busy gagging. He tries to look at Shawn just out of the corner of his eye- Shawn is slumped in his seat. He looks like he should be breathing raggedly. He’s not breathing at all.

“Carlton, that’s not the priority right now!” Jules twists in her seat to look back at Shawn and Gus, and when Shawn laughs- quiet and raspy and in a way Gus would almost describe as rapturous, she softens.

And then the ghost, the ghost- Gus can’t handle the ghosts. Sitting in the seat between him and Shawn is Shawn’s grandma, which is freaky enough, but now Shawn’s grandpa is here too sitting inside the passenger seat and probably phasing a little into Jules as well and both ghosts are holding Shawn’s hands looking at him like he’s the dead loved one.

… He kind of is. Gus doesn’t want to think about that. The thought won’t leave him alone.

The ghost of Shawn’s grandpa, right after Shawn laughs, says in an almost scolding tone, “Didn’t your grandmother tell you to stop that kinda thinking?”

Gus wishes he’d been paying attention to the conversation Shawn had been having with his grandma before- or maybe it’s better he didn’t. He hopes he doesn’t know what Shawn was thinking, because his theory is-

Too much. Too much to handle right now.

The car is silent as Shawn talks in weak mumbles to his grandfather, as they start to play a game, as Shawn’s body language goes from limp and tired to limp and relaxed. It’s only then, when he seems completely disconnected from everything, that Lassiter once again breaks the silence.

“I’m driving to the hospital.”

“Carlton, he’s– he’s not–”

“He’s hurt.”

“Hospital can’t help him now, Detective.”

Lassiter, Jules, and Gus all scream in unison as Mary Lightly pops out of the dashboard like it’s a Whack-A-Mole game. Lassiter nearly swerves right off the road, Jules having to reach right through Mary’s head to yank the wheel back the other way at the last second!

Mary is unphased- mentally. Physically, he’s phasing through quite a lot. “You saw what was down there, Detective. You know what happened to him.”

Lassiter grips the steering wheel so tight Gus could swear he hears something crack- a knuckle or a car part, it’s intimidating either way. “He needs medical attention.”

“He needs a coffin.” Mary’s ghost angles his head to look at Shawn, but gets a stern and upset glare from Shawn’s Grandma instead. “That was insensitive. It’s true though. He’s going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow…”

“Can it, Lightly,” Lassiter growls, looking a little green. “Unless you want to tell us what the hell happened in there I don’t want to hear a word.”

“You know what happened down there.”

“No, we really don’t. Mary, please tell us what Shawn was onto, why they had him tied up, why any of this happened!” Jules is pleading, but demanding- she’ll get her answers nicely, or she’ll get them unpleasantly, but either way she will get them. “Why did they do this to him?”

Mary looks at her, and nods once. “Because–” Mary looks Gus in the eyes. “-- he’s psychic.”

Gus closes his eyes. He remembers his lamaze breathing. He prays to god it’ll keep his heart and brain from exploding.

“They needed a psychic because of us. This.” Mary raises a see-through hand out of the air conditioner control knobs and gestures at himself and the other two ghosts. “Spirits congregate around psychics and other undead do not… like our presence. Though they didn’t expect quiet as explosive an ordeal as what went down.”

“What, they knew you’d be there and just didn’t plan for it? Bull.” Lassiter grips onto the story, the ability to poke holes, the ability to be skeptical and analytical and distracted.

“Exactly, Detective. Most psychics don’t do what Shawn does. Most spirits feel neutral at best towards those they follow. But Shawn… he actually uses his gifts to get justice. He’s haunted by fondness more than anything else.”

“They were all repaying him for solving their murders.” Jules’s voice is soft.

“He’s a favorite among the lingering dead. Psychics aren’t just people who can see futures, pasts, or spirits, Detectives. Shawn is one of the living connected to the world of the dead… or he was. This… upset the balance.” Mary gestures at Shawn’s whole body. Shawn himself is still completely disconnected– staring with unblinking, wrong-colored eyes, mumbling nonsense stories to his encouraging grandparents.

“And it let you all into the world?” Jules twists to look back at Shawn again. “Is this permanent?”

“No. In fact I’d say we have…” Mary licks his thumb and sticks it out, looking around at seemingly nothing before nodding to himself. “The rest of this car ride to stick around. Then it’ll be back to the invisible overlapping planes, giving Shawn snippets, and leaving what gets through to him up to the universe’s whims. Be patient with him after this, Detectives. His abilities are going to be… like a whole new experience.”

For a while no-one has anything to say. Mary stays risen out of the dashboard, just watching them all.

“... Is he going to be… Shawn? When this is all over?” Gus knows his voice doesn’t actually sound like when he was a child, but that’s what he hears. He hears himself, young and confused and scared, asking if his best friend is going to be okay.

“Of course he will, which means it’ll be a mixed bag. You know that, Gus.”

Jules swallows. “But will he be different? Himself, but… different? I mean, in the movies it always–”

“Exatrabates the worst traits, makes a spawn a manipulative mess, drains away all self-control in the internal battle for their eternal soul?” Mary finishes for her. “There’s not many former vampires among us, Detectives, so I can’t say for sure what will happen to him. Even the dead don’t know everything.”

“Right. Right. … So we should approach this with… caution. I know, we were going to already, but–”

Shawn’s head makes a thunk sound as it falls down from the glass onto the plastic interior of the door. Gus sits up and starts to reach over, heart pounding as images of Shawn lifeless and pale on the floor of a horrible basement flash to the forefront of his mind-

Shawn’s Grandma grabs his hand before he touches Shawn. “He’s just asleep dear. Best not to touch him yet. Just in case.” She pats Gus’s hand comfortingly. “Let him rest.”

“He usually snores.” Gus’s voice clogs in his throat, coming out thick and hard to understand. Shawn isn’t snoring now. He’s silent. Nothing moves, or makes the faintest hint of noise, or shows life. Because there is no life.

Shawn’s Grandma rubs his hand again. “I know. It… it’ll be difficult to get used to.”

More silence.

“... One the bright side, he was bitten by daywalkers,” Mary says just as they turn onto the street of Shawn’s latest apartment.

“Now’s not the time for puns,” Lassiter growls.

“I agree, did I make one?”

“Actually, I think Shawn’ll find it pretty funny. I’ll tell him… when he wakes up,” Gus says.

Because Shawn, Shawn, has to wake up. It has to be him, he has to, because if he doesn’t or if-if something else does–

He just… has to.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ghosts fade away entirely moments after Lassiter parks. Shawn’s face twists in his sleep for a moment, confused, as he reaches out restlessly to find the now-missing hands on his.

He gets Gus and Lassie hefting him up by his shoulders and legs instead, somehow staying asleep through the ordeal of getting him inside his apartment and dropping him onto his bed. He lays splayed out, arms and legs staying wherever they fell as Lassie and Gus heaved and tossed him. He’s still ashen, and still, and silent.

He looks like a corpse.

“Excuse me a second.” Gus runs into the bathroom and lets loose little more than bile. He retches until he can’t, and then some more, and by the time he stumbles out Shawn has shifted and is now cradling a pillow to his chest. Lassie and Jules stand over the bed, whispering harshly to each other.

“-- give him a chance! Mary said–”

“That he doesn’t know, O’Hara.” Lassiter swallows thickly. “I don’t like it either.”

“You’ve been talking about shooting him for four years.”

“I don’t mean it! Not lethally, anyway. Usually. … Only half the time.”

“Oh, hell no.” Gus puts himself between the detectives and the bed. “You two are not debating staking Shawn while I was throwing up!”

“No, we are not.” Jules levels Lassiter with a glare.

“Yes, we are.”

“You just risked your life to save him, now you wanna kill him?! You’re messed up, Lassie.”

“I don’t want to kill him! But look at him, Guster!”

Gus looks. He sees Shawn, hurt and vulnerable and tired.

“Look at his teeth.”

Shawn’s mouth is slightly parted in sleep, even though no breaths are drawn or exhaled. Gus doesn’t want to see them. He doesn’t want to, but they’re unmissable. Peeking out from the corners of his mouth, sharp and gleaming and dangerous.

He knew they’d be there- he knew what was happening, he was even told outright, but somehow seeing the fangs makes it hit all over again like it’s a surprise and this whole night- no, these just past couple of hours are too much, too much, too much and he collapses.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He’s Shawn!”

“He could kill someone.”

“He could always kill someone, anyone can kill someone!”

“O’Hara–”

“We did not go through all of that to not even give him a chance to prove he’s capable of staying himself.”

“What if he ends up like them, O’Hara? That’ll be on us.”

“Oh my god, Carlton, that is the most selfish-”

“Not because of that, O’Hara, because we let it happen! Those other ones almost drove us to declaring three murders a cold case.”

“But Shawn caught them! He saw through it!”

“And now he’s also a bloodsucking demon spawn!”

They’ve been going in circles, over and over. Gus passing out didn’t stop them, just paused the argument long enough to make sure he didn’t hit his head and then pick it right back up.

And Juliet knows. She knows why her partner is saying all of this, even when he doesn’t want to, she knows he doesn’t want to say it. But he’s right. If Shawn wakes up, and it’s his face but not him, what can they do? He was already a whirlwind, a force of nature in plaid shirts and jeans, and unstoppable force and immovable object meshed into one. What would he be without a sense of morality? What could he do?

… But it’s Shawn. He has fangs and skin colder than ice and no heartbeat but he’s also cuddling a pillow, and mumbling Gus’s name in his sleep, and he was laughing in the car and it’s him.

“Fine.” Juliet looks around and finds a broken bit of a fence among Shawn’s seemingly entirely random collection of belongings. She shoves it into Lassiter’s hands. “Do it, then.”

He’s visibly taken aback by the sudden change. “Are you serious?”

“Are you?”

They stand in that impasse for a moment, staring each other in the eyes, Lassiter’s hesitant and unsure and Juliet’s hardened and blazing– those red-eyed bloodsuckers could only wish for a glare like hers.

“Alright.” Lassiter squares his shoulders, then shakes them, then rolls them. He clears his throat, and raises the “stake”. He steps closer to the bed, over Gus’s unconscious body, and just above Shawn.

Juliet’s heart pounds.

Lassiter stands over Shawn, The dim lights, in deperate need of replacing, glint off of the fresh fangs in the corners of his mouth. He mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep, lips drawing back to show them in full. His eyes flutter open for just a second, bright red and–

And glazed, unfocused. He reaches out for something, and doesn’t find it, and his face crumples. His eyes shut again, and for the first time since Lassiter laid eyes on him in that basement Shawn draws breath- just to heave a sigh and fall back into breathless sleep, clutching the pillow closer to his body.

Lassiter stands there, holding a stake above Shawn, trying to see the danger here– the fangs and eyes and bloodless skin. He tries to summon up some of the fury, the irritation, the desperate pleas to the universe to just remove Spencer from his life already. It’s usually available in spades, when Shawn is running around like an idiot and making stupid declarations just to undermine him and cracking jokes at the worst times and encouraging Lassiter to go down completely untrodden paths of nonsensical hunches and trying to give him credit to The Chief and helping him primp for a date and–

And–

“... Dammit.” Lassiter lowers his arm, and then chucks the broken fence into a pile of other random stuff. “Damn it to hell!”

Juliet lets out a breath she’d been holding since Shawn opened his eyes, putting her hand on her partner’s shoulder. “We’ll see what the situation is first,” she says softly. “And I have no doubt Shawn will be his usual self when he wakes up. He always is.”

“... You’re probably right.” Lassiter looks down and kicks Gus lightly in the thigh, waking him up. “Spencer’s too much of a stubborn ass to let anything change him anyway. Even death.”

Gus groans and sits up. “That was the weirdest dream…” He looks up at Lassiter and Jules, and then at Shawn on the bed, and the blood drains out of his face. “Oh my god. It wasn’t a dream.”

Jules helps Gus stand back up. “Not a dream, but, Carlton and I came to an agreement. We’re going to make sure Shawn is fine before we do anything rash.”

“Oh. Good, ‘cause, I would’ve hated having to whoop Lassie’s ass.”

“Please. You couldn’t even beat me in a thumb-wrestling contest, much less and actual fight.”

“I could too.”

“You and Spencer fight like toddlers. Even before all this he was a biter, that’s the lowest move available to a grown man.”

“No, the lowest move is a knee to the- you know.”

He and Lassiter both wince just thinking about it. Jules rolls her eyes, and looks at Shawn. “So are we just… waiting for him to wake up now?”

“Seems like it.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I’m seeing if he has any whiskey.” Lassiter walks out into Shawn’s “kitchen”- if it could be called that. This particular apartment used to be a small yoga studio, which means lots of open space and nowhere for a stove. The fridge is barely even a minifridge, and all it has is half a leftover burrito. Instead of cabinets there are plastic tubs, and they’re mostly full of non-perishable junky snacks.

“Great. As if tonight isn’t the biggest reason to get drunk I’ve had in my entire life, including my separation.”

“I think he’s going to be out for a while,” Jules sighs, coming into the “kitchen” as well. “Gus even pretended to use his hair gel and he still stayed asleep.”

Lassiter looks at the door. “... I think we need to go to a bar.”

“A bar? Carlton, we’re covered in ash and blood and Shawn could wake up any time.”

“I know, O’Hara. I just–” Lassiter brings a hand up to smooth his hair, and it’s shaking. “Could use a drink.”

“... Yeah. I could too.” Jules sighs. “But we can’t just leave Gus here. I know I said… but he was mumbling about being starving before…”

“And even if Guster gets away…”

“... But I can’t even imagine that. Can you? Shawn just… attacking someone?”

“O’Hara, before tonight I didn’t even believe Spencer was psychic.”

“Right. … Still, it seems genuinely impossible that could ever happen. Shawn just doesn’t…”

“... It does seem pretty impossible. Spencer and Dangerous don’t even feel like apart of the same language when put together.”

“Right?”

“... What if we put a cross in front of his door? To hold him inside?”

“... Actually…”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gus would have bet his entire 401K on the certainty he’d never go to a bar with Lassie and Jules without Shawn before tonight. And he almost hadn’t, until Shawn rolled over and Gus caught sight of his neck again and had another fit of gagging and crying that ended with Jules helping him nurse a cup of warm tap water while Lassiter tried and failed to find non-stale crackers.

So now he’s nibbling at peanuts, drinking more heavily than he has since he got married in a sweater vest with a goat as his best man, and trying to forget that he saw his friend dead on the ground less than four hours ago.

He’s not succeeding at it yet, and it looks like Lassie and Jules aren’t either- so another round of shots are called for, and maybe this time it’ll be enough to make his hands stop shaking.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SMASH!

The sound of breaking glass doesn’t get him up. Nor does the unsubtle hiss of pain, or the thump of clumsy boots against the ground.

The smell of blood is what makes him open his eyes. Not quite awake, though- not really. He’s in a haze, and he’s dreaming, and he’s hungry.

“Stupid window,” he hears a voice mutter. “Wh- since when is this- aw hell, how outdated is my small businesses map? There’s nothing worth more than fifty bucks in here.”

He’s not sure when he got up- isn’t that the most disorienting part of dreams? Things just Happen, and there’s no trackable reasoning for it. One second he was on the bed, the next he’s crouched low in his doorway, out of immediate eyeline, just like it was drilled into him to do…

“Does this heap at least have band-aids somewhere? Sss, ah, crap. Right through my glove, this is- ah, shit, if anyone’s home I’m toast. … Nah, nah, someone woulda woken up by now.”

It doesn’t smell quite as good as… actually, he’s not sure what he’s comparing the smell to. Is he comparing? This is a weird dream. His stomach hurts. His mouth hurts just as bad. When he takes a deep breath, he can taste iron in the air. The breath holds in his chest. Doesn’t he usually have to breath out? His chest doesn’t hurt though. It doesn’t matter anyway. How hasn’t this wannabe burglar noticed him? He’s practically getting a piggyback ride from the man.

Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Bum-bum.

It’s still missing something. He doesn’t know what. But it’s still good.

“Not a single band-aid, who lives like thi- mmmph!”

Warm. It’s warm, tangy, a little sweet. It coats his throat like a pineapple smoothie after hours of pouring over a stubborn case without a break. Dry, cracked, raw- it all goes away, smoothed over as it flows down his throat. His neck starts to hurt less- had it been hurting the whole time? His stomach was. It’s finally calming down. He bites harder. What is he biting? He doesn’t know. What a weird dream. It’s all gone so, so soon. He drops something. Something big hits the floor. He turns his cloudy vision away and stumbles back to bed. He collapses onto it, grabbing a pillow and curling loosely around it. He’d woken up feeling cold, stiff, but now he sinks into his mattress. The breath finally leaves his lungs, a deep sigh, as he drifts back into a more restful sleep than he ever had in his life.

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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sensational-stormbringer · 6 months ago

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my dashboard vs THAT shawn photo

#shawn michaels #blacklisted the tags to give prev a modicum of privacy

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mismess · 1 year ago

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Me at work in my mind: Giving Monk carbon monoxide poisoning

🤝

Random tumblr user who happened to be on my dashboard today in the window of time I actually spend scrolling on my dash: Giving Shawn carbon monoxide poisoning

#its just a funny coincidence to me #the scenarios. they are plentiful when you have carbon monoxide #talk

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xxx-ashhazard-xxx · 2 years ago

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old ass art post lol))

hot dog sauce and sick ass beats lol

I dunno what I was doing here but I drew Shawn just vibing to some sick ass emo tunes. I wonder what he's listening to??

Probably Taking Back Sunday or Dashboard Confessional lol. XDD

#emo #emo aesthetic #emo boy #emo scene #emo style #emo art #emo artist #scene #scene aesthetic #scenecore #emo culture #scene culture #rawr xd #rawring 20s #2000s emo #2010s emo #ash's art

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shokk · 5 months ago

Video

vimeo

Top 5 Tips for Operationalizing CTI: Insights From Feedly Experts from Feedly on Vimeo.

Join Feedly’s Threat Intelligence (TI) Advisors for a practical, insight-packed webinar to help CTI teams boost efficiency and outpace emerging threats in 2025. We will discuss critical topics such as threat hunt planning, vulnerability prioritization, and integration into your tools—all tailored to meet your intelligence requirements.

Learn how real-world security teams use Feedly configurations and best practices to automate their CTI processes, cut through the noise, and focus on threats that matter most to their organization.

Here are the reasources the team touched upon during the session:

General: For more information, you can always visit our site� feedly.com/threat-intelligence

If you want to connect with the squad, here are their LinkedIn profiles! �� Aaron: linkedin.com/in/aaronomaley/ Dave: linkedin.com/in/dave-johnson-993754195/ Denise: linkedin.com/in/denise-claris-6814b4151/ Andrew: linkedin.com/in/andrewbcastro/ Carlo: linkedin.com/in/carlo-edwards087/ Shawn: linkedin.com/in/shawnjaques/

PIRs resource: You can find the � PIR blueprint here� feedly.com/ti-essentials/posts/how-to-use-priority-intelligence-requirements There’s also more content on PIRs in this site so feel free to check out these blogs. They are pieces written by and for CTI experts.

Vulnerability monitoring resources: 8 Vulnerability Dashboard Examples� feedly.com/new-features/posts/8-vulnerability-dashboard-examples

Sending here the � CVE research page� feedly.com/cve

Here’s the free � Patch Tuesday report Andy talked about!� feedly.com/cve/security-advisories/microsoft/2025-01-14-january-2025-patch-tuesday-10-critical-vulnerabilities-amid-162-cves

MITRE: Mitre report templates� github.com/center-for-threat-informed-defense/cti-blueprints/wiki/CTI-Templates

API resource: Here’s more info on the Feedly API� developers.feedly.com/reference/introduction

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rawdatabyp3 · 1 year ago

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Is Power BI a Gateway to AI, or Vice Versa? w/ BARC US CEO Shawn Rogers

Dive into an intriguing exploration with Shawn Rogers, CEO of BARC US, as we delve into whether Power BI is a stepping stone to mastering Artificial Intelligence (AI) and Machine Learning (ML), or if it’s the other way around. This episode isn’t just about technology—it’s a deep dive into the symbiotic relationship between business intelligence tools and the latest advancements in AI.

With his extensive background in analytics and business intelligence, Shawn unravels how Power BI can serve as both a platform leveraging AI capabilities and a beneficiary of AI-driven enhancements. He discusses the dynamic interplay where AI not only complements but also extends the functionalities of Power BI, transforming how businesses interpret and act on data. Listeners will gain a nuanced understanding of how to strategically prepare their Power BI setups to both utilize and enhance AI technologies.

Tune in and see firsthand how Power BI and AI are reshaping the analytics landscape together. Whether you're deep into data or just starting to see its potential impact on your business, Shawn Rogers brings a wealth of expertise that bridges the technical with the practical.

Are you looking for a podcast that cuts through the noise? Raw Data by P3 Adaptive breaks down complex data topics into business value you can use. From business intelligence and dashboards to AI and digital transformation, we make it simple and relatable. Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on your favorite platform!

Check out this episode!

#Power BI #Business Intelligence #data #Excel #Microsoft #experts

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months ago

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@jollyhunter

Again, thank you so much for writing this my wonderful friend! It was such a fun surprise to see on my dashboard today 💗 And I absolutely LOVE it (especially the way you incorporate potatoes- the addiction cannot be stopped! 🥔) The potato dividers are also a wonderful touch!

First, it really does read like a crazy episode of Supernatural- and I am HERE for it one million percent!

"Ha, I bet he's not used to having something shoved down his throat like that.” Dean stays unperturbed and grins down at the horror-stricken, pale face, “Karma’s a real bitch, huh, Timmy?"

DEAD ☠️🤣- Girl, the unhinged Dean is giving me life! 🙌🏻

"Yeah but, a - a-" he shifts his phone to his hand and squints at his campus ID "- ‘Expert in South American Household Traditions’, seriously? The hell's that even supposed to mean?"

Oh I can already imagine the trainwreck of Dean doing a guest lecture of this-

Dean accidentally knocking things off pedestals, thinking that something is unbreakable and tapping it on the desk only to have it shatter into a million pieces (like Uncle Buck), Dean literally mispronouncing everything and getting that cute smile/pressing his lips together while he tries to figure out what on earth he can pull out of his butt to make people he knows what he's talking about...

You've given me a little bit of professor!Dean and I am rabid. 👀🥵 Also I feel like if Dean was in there lecturing it would be kinda how Shawn is in Psych so thank you for giving me that reminder 🥰

"Alright then. Lead the way, sweetheart," he smiles at you and your cheeks take a faint pink at the way he called you. But you quickly avert your eyes before you both hurry down the hallway with Dean following you closely.

Aww I love their little meet cute! I'm so clumsy so her literally dropping all her papers and then scrambling papers is so me coded- AND THE BLUSH AND THE HEAD DUCK! I cannot make eye contact with attractive men to save my life, it really is me being so awkward and trying my best find ways out of eye contact- lots of blushing, lots of mumbling 😅

Your mind keeps going back to your guest mentor. Despite the fact that he almost broke one of the relics of their special Inca exhibition, most certainly got every single date and object wrong and referred to a staff as a 'pokey stick', you couldn't ignore the fact that he had something charming, intriguing even.

The 'pokey stick' 🤣🤣

And him literally almost breaking the relics is so Dean coded lol. I can see him pulling one of those bits where he's almost juggling the thing to catch it before he almost drops it 😂

"That bad, huh?" he chuckles and holds his plate out for a sausage, his eyes flickering back to yours as they crinkle, amused, "In my defence, it was my first teaching. And I kept getting distracted, y'know." He winks. Your ears flush and you giggle, trying your best to ignore the fact that it almost seems like your mentor is trying to flirt with you.

I would be a welcome distraction for him any day of the week!

Also the fact that he's calling the teacher Mrs. Tinkle is KILLING me. I am in stiches every time I read her name 🤣

Behind the corner of the last step of the staircase, hidden in the shadows... is you. Pressed up against the wall. Hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your ragged breath. Heart racing along your reeling mind. Witch-killing bullets? What the hell is he talking about? Is he trying to kill someone? And why does he plan on breaking into the canteen tonight to burn their food..?

I think my favorite thing about this fic is that the reader is having a completely normal reaction to hearing everything that Dean and Sam are talking about on the phone. I love that the reader you wrote has no idea how anything in the supernatural world works- I mean I love me a hunter!reader, but there really is something about reading a reader who literally acts as if she was placed in supernatural from the real world that is just so fun!

Jolly, I absolutely loved every bit of this and I am so excited for the next part! Thank you so much for writing this for me and thinking of me on my birthday 🥰 You're such a sweet friend and ILYSM for this!💚

Edit: also, the header photo/mood board is amazing and I have no idea how you did it but it’s SO awesome ❤️🥔

The Potato Summoning *1

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETIE !!! This is for you 🧡 ENJOY!

⋆ ˚｡⋆ CHARACTERS Dean Winchester x @lamentationsofalonelypotato , Sam's also there!

WARNINGS Pure Crack (especially next part), Canon Violence / Swearing, Reader (Lee) is a student at the university, POV's all over the place (imgine it like in an episode)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY Dean must go undercover at a university to solve a weird case of a series of deaths involving potatoes.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS 2,4k

⋆ ˚｡⋆ J / NOTE Would you believe me if I was to tell you that this was meant to be a drabble or an imagine, but I suddenly imagined it like an episode and just kept going, and now I had to stop myself before your birthday's over and instead make a two part mini series out of this??? Anway, I hope you like it so far, hun! <3

Dean ducks under the police tape, walking up to the body covered by a white sheet, sprawled out in the middle of the campus, while straightening his fake FBI uniform. He's closely followed by his younger brother who almost tore down the tape as he had tripped over his long legs, earning himself an amused smirk of Dean's.

Sam mutters an annoyed, "Shut up, jerk." under his breath, before his focus shifts to the victim in front of them.

"Sure, Sasquatch," Dean quips and leans down to pull back the sheet, uncovering the face of a guy who looks like he's been in his early 20s. The bright sun reflects in eyes wide in shock, the angular face partially framed by middle long, blond hair that's stuck to his sidebuns.

"Isn't that the douchebag who sexually harassed a girl the other day?" Dean asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, Tommie Parsons," Sam huffs through his nose while he flips his notebook open, "That's the third student in two months who dropped dead at exactly 1PM. What do you think? Revengeful spirit perhaps?"

"Or a curse..." - Dean hums and straightens his back to look after a group of female students passing by the crime scene tape, while he continues to mutter, - "Whatever it is, it didn't hop the Blue Line... so it's gotta be tied to the place." His focus returns to Sam, his eyebrows wiggling.

"Looks like we're going back to university, Sammy."

"You mean, I'm going back," Sam retorts with an amused roll of his eyes.

While Dean tries and fails to bite back with some witty comeback, Sam's focus returns to the victim at his feet once more. His eyes roam the poor guy's crumpled body when he suddenly spots something. He tilts his head to the side and crouches down next to him.

"Huh, check this out... Looks like he has something stuck in his throat?" Sam observes with narrowed eyes.

Dean grins smugly while poking the small bulge with the tip of his black leather shoe. It bobs under the pressure and Sam shoots him a side-eye when the surrounding police officers start to watch them with skepticism.

"Ha, I bet he's not used to having something shoved down his throat like that.” Dean stays unperturbed and grins down at the horror-stricken, pale face, “Karma’s a real bitch, huh, Timmy?"

The next Day.

"C'mon, man, couldn't it have been something sexier? Like a sex ed or at least a sports teacher?" Dean grumbles with the phone clasped between his shoulder and ear, fingers fumbling with his tie.

"You wanted the job, don't blame me. It was the only thing available." Sam answers through the phone.

"Yeah but, a - a-" he shifts his phone to his hand and squints at his campus ID "- ‘Expert in South American Household Traditions’, seriously? The hell's that even supposed to mean?"

"You're only a guest mentor. You'll wing it, Dean." Sam sighs on the other side of the call, "Just focus on digging up some dirt on our victims and I'll have a look at our Deep Throater at the morgue."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean mutters while rounding the corner of the hallway, eyes darting around in search of his classroom, "Why can't they label this goddamn maze? This is rid- Agk-" his sentence breaks off into a grunt as he knocks into something.

Or rather, someone.

You land on your ass, papers gone flying across the floor. Wincing and rubbing your forehead which had collided with his hard shoulder.

"Damn, sorry, didn't see ya there," He apologizes and reaches out a hand towards you to pull you back to your feet, "You okay?"

"Yeah, all good," you mumble, patting down your skirt to smooth it out. You notice the scattered papers with a sigh and bend down to quickly collect your papers, "I'm late, sorry-" you mutter without looking at the guy once and about to dash past him when he suddenly interrupts you.

"Uh- Me too, actually. You wouldn't happen to know where I'm supposed to go?" He shoots you a crooked smile and points at his name tag reading "Dr. Phil. Page".

Your eyes widen, and for the first time travel up to meet his emerald ones, intense and glinting in the harsh light of the hallway.

"You're- you're our guest mentor for our special exhibition?"

"Yep. Households expert and the whole package," he chuckles a bit nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, "That'd be me."

The air gets stuck in your throat for a moment and the heat's rushing to your cheeks. He looks cute. And he's really young for a Dr. Phil.?

"Ah," you snap out of it and continue in a flustered manner, "Follow me, Mr. Page, I'm in your class. We gotta hurry tho!"

Four hours and a very 'interesting' take on 'South American Household Traditions' later, you and the rest of the students flock in the canteen of the university.

Your circling thoughts are interrupted when a voice behind you has you turn to look over your shoulder, canteen tray in your hands. Behind you standing in line, is no other than your new mentor.

"Hey," he nods at you, lips quirked into a confident smirk, "How'd I do?"

"Uhm," you hesitate, mind racing for a kind way to tell him that he'd managed to butcher traditions worth thousands of years in just four hours.

"It was, uh... quite unique?" Mhm, real smooth. You facepalm internally.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks casually and nods at the teacher table in the corner, "Ms. Tingles back there is giving me the creeps.”

Your eyes follow his and a cold shiver runs down your back when they settle on your history teacher. Hawk-like eyes of an elder woman bore into yours, face lined with sharp contours and a beak-like nose. And mostly, feared by all.

"Yeah," you breath with a shudder, voice dropped to a mere murmur, just in case the hold hag had developed super hearing, "Miss Tinkle's a real charmer." Dean chuckles amused at your sarcastic tone.

You hand your plate to the next lady who adds a portion of French fries to your meat. And Dean follows suit once you continue to pick your favourite sauce along the fries.

"Here love," the lady scoops Dean an extra portion onto the plate, "You look hungry," she smiles at him motherly. Dean's eyebrows shoot up, a surprised grin forming on his face.

“Well, ain’t you just a sweet peach,"- he leans in to read her name tag before he looks up again and shoots her a boyish grin -"Susan. You keep feeding me like this, and I might just have to stick around permanently."

You both took a seat at one of the outdoor tables, Dean sliding into the bench across of you. It's a lively place, students chattering around you while the atmosphere is warmed by a sunny spring day.

"You sure you want to sit with me, Mr. Page...?" you ask once you've settled down, afraid that he might have only followed you around because he didn't want you to sit alone. He nods, muffling a " 'course" between the French Frie he's chewing on before he swallows and his tongue darts out to lick the salt off his fingertips, eyes never leaving you.

"But you-"

"Just call me Dean," he interjects, that flirty smile spread across his face again, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"I'm Lee," you smile sheepishly and stroke one of your brown locks past your glasses and behind your ears. He repeats your name under his breath, his smile widening for a fraction.

Then he clears his throat, his face taking on a more serious note.

"Can I ask you, Lee, did you know a Tommie Parsons by any chance?"

"Parsons?" You echo the name, lips twitched into a disgusted frown, "Yeah, heard plenty of him. He was a real ass. And a pervert." As you speak your mind, you realize what you'd just said and you quickly try to allay any wrong impressions, "Not that he'd deserved to die, of course."

"Of course," Dean repeats with a slightly arched eyebrow, "Mind telling me what you know abou-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence when all of a sudden a loud noise tears through the lively chattering, followed by a girl screaming in panic.

Dean, hunter instincts kicking in, leaps off his seat and instinctively reaches for the colt hidden at the back of his waist, eyes darting around when they zero in on a guy at one of the tables.

He's pale as a sheet, wheezing and heaving like a cat that's trying to produce a furball. Dean's hand hovering over the colt falters.

"Hey- what's the matter?" He asks as he darts over to the table, eyes snapping back and forth between the guy and what was presumably his girlfriend next to him.

"I- I don't know- he just-" the girl stammers, but gets interrupted by her boyfriend's kecking sounds.

"C-c-an't- b-b-" his voice cracks and he doubles over, retching terribly. Dean's hands hover over his back, cursing under his breath, "Shit - hey, c'mon, talk to me!" Eyes roaming his writhing body, he notices how a bulge at his throat starts to form, bobbing right above his Adam's Apple.

Oh no-

The watch on his wrist reads 12:59.

He looks around the place, eyes narrowed as he scans every face in the forming crowd, like he's expecting a witch or a spirit to hide among them. Sure enough, his gaze meets Miss Tinkle. Watching the entire show from the doorway to the canteen, her eyes cold as they lock with his. Dean's jaw clenches, mind racing.

The hunter's attention is suddenly drawn to a backpack on the floor next to them. He looks up at the girl, voice sharp as he prompts, "Is this his?" She nods, trembling.

Without missing a beat, he lunges for the backpack and turns it upside down, its contents spilling across the ground.

"Come on, come on, where's that damn thing-" he grits out, hands rifling through the contents in vain, "Damn it!"

Standing on the sidelines, you can only watch in horror as your classmate scrambles for his water glass, sending fries flying everywhere as he does so, before his face begins to turn blue - and the next thing you know, he slips off his chair and hits the floor.

His body twitches once or twice.

Silence.

Then the campus gong goes off to signal it's exactly 1 o'clock.

Dean leans against the wall of the deserted staircase in one of the university's buildings.

"There was no hexbag," he mutters into the phone, fingers rubbing the spot between his eyebrows, "I don't get it, man. What the hell are we dealing with here?"

"It wasn't your fault, Dean. There was nothing you could've done to save him." Sam reassures him, voice soft even through the crackling phone.

"I should've. I was right there... Damn it."

"You tried your best, okay? You wanna hear what I found out in the morgue? The thing in the guy's throat?"

Dean sighs and runs a hand down his mouth before he regains his usual tone, "Yeah, hit me."

"A potato."

Dean blinks like he must've misheard him.

"A what now?"

"I'm serious. Like a fully grown, unpeeled, raw potato."

"Oh give me a break."

"Just reporting the news," Sam scoff-chuckles and continues to explain, "It even had the dirt on it still. Like it had just been dug up and magically zapped next to his windpipe."

"O- okay- uh, that's a new one," he comments, still confused, "So how's that fit our theory?"

"I'm not sure," Sam mutters, "I was thinking maybe it has something to do with what they ate. If it's not them who're marked by the curse, maybe it's the food?"

"Food?" Dean mutters.

Then his eyes widen in realization. His throat suddenly feels oddly tight, his hand instinctively rubbing his Adam's Apple.

"Oh no..." he gulps, face scrunched up into a grimace.

"What's the matter?"

"Son of a bitch jinxed the fries."

Sam's silent for a moment, then scoffs.

"And lemme guess-"

" 'Course I did, Sammy! It's friggin' French Fries, man!" he arguments before his brother can even finish his (correct) assumption. He turns on his heels in frustration, gaze passing by the window when his voice suddenly drops to a hushed one, "Hold on-"

Sam's questioning voice is now being muffled as Dean clamped his hand over the phone, his focus drawn to a loud discussion below the window in the staircase.

"Christ on a Stake - Bob! I said 'order one hundred potatoes', not 'enough to feed the entire goddamn town'!" An elder man shouts, hands flailing around.

Presumably the cook, judging by his clothings.

"I- I'm sorry sir, I - I didn't- " the boy stammers while he desperately tries to keep the gigantic pile of potato sacks from burying him alive.

Then a new, female voice cuts through the argumentation, her voice final and yet smooth, like poisonous honey, "Don't be so harsh with the kid, Jeff. I bet it was just a mistake. Besides, it could've been worse, right? Everyone loves potatoes."

Dean shifts behind the window, just enough to catch a glimpse at the new stranger.

His jaw clenches at the familiar face;

Miss Tinkle.

He raises his phone back to his ear, his voice low and tight, "You get the witch-killing bullets ready. I'll scope out the canteen and torch their storage room tonight, just in case... before anyone else eats of this cursed crap."

...

Witch-killing bullets? What the hell is he talking about? Is he trying to kill someone? And why does he plan on breaking into the canteen tonight to burn their food..?

J / NOTE @lamentationsofalonelypotato (and anyone else for that matter :D ) You have any guesses what's going on yet? 😏

Dean Tags List

@aylacavebear @jc-winchester @ambiguous-avery @bettystonewell @lyarr24

@ladysparkles78 @v1v1-3 @maddie0101 @livya99 @supernotnatural2005

@Ms-kayla-readinglover @youdontknowe @zepskies @waynes-multiverse @123password

@champagnepoets @salemslostwitch @chevroletdean @multiversefanfics @toxicfataldestiny

*Disclaimer: Images and gifs are from Pinterest.*

#I LOVE THIS #crack potato fic incoming- a must read #It's A Jolly Holiday 🧡#girl you're so sweet 💗

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