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Why Do You Hurt? 

you're choking on how much you have to try

you have tried. you have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders and accepted more responsibilities than you have ever wanted, even intended to gain. it isn't crushing - you are strong enough to hold it - but you are choking. you don't know what to do with it. you don't know where it goes, how to move this weight everyone knows you can hold onto, and do you even want to get rid of it? Never. You would not give this to - force this on - anyone else. but you /can't/. but you are choking on it. your body will hold it up even when you lose all the air in your lungs, and your footing, and your courage. it does not mind choking you. it seems almost designed to do so. if you weren't wrung out you wouldn't be doing this thing properly.

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                                     ———-  how do you run from your own mind?

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@lonelyvampx asked: i love bret, and i want to ask u, why u love him (i love hearing different reasons)

OOC Messages!

Thank you for the message!

So, funny story. Growing up, being a wrestling fan in the mid-2000s, my only introduction to Bret was that Shawn screwed him out of his belt in Montreal. Literally, that was all I knew and understood about the guy. When he made his comeback around 2010, I didn't get the hype. I respected him, as he was a legend and an icon, but personally, I really didn't get what people loved about him so much. Fast forward a couple of years, around 2019, I decided to go back and watch some of the classic TV shows and pay-per-views on WWE Network (R.I.P). After that, it finally clicked why Bret is so beloved. My opinion on him, too, also changed substantially. Since then, Bret has become one of my favorite wrestling personalities and people. I absolutely adore him, if this blog and everything about it doesn't show that already.

I think the thing I love about the Hitman the most is his goodness. Except for his time with Jimmy Hart in the earlier days of the Hart Foundation, and some of his later career, especially when a certain bald Texan tried to ruin his life, Bret was just a man trying to do the right thing. He was always kind and respectful. Maybe a little serious, but someone that could be depended upon and was always ready to lend a hand to a friend in need. He's just... such a good guy. Very Canadian, very laidback, the kind of hero that everyone could get behind and root for. Least to me, Bret's the type of wrestler who had no haters. Sure, maybe he wasn't as bold as Hogan, or as loud as Flair, but Bret was always someone who gave his 100%. He's just so good!

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A hundred years, so many human lifetimes, both friends and foes had Bret seen come and go, be buried or become like he. Beneath the ground and surrounded by flowers, always bloomed by spring, or within the shadows and away from light. A modicum of happiness, discovered only in the excitement of a hunt, against the powerless and frightened. Memories of past ages still within his mind; the changing of time, the shift of advancement, the moment when his mortal life ended and his vampiric began. Warmth and sunshine replaced by cold and darkness, forced to be reborn by the ambitions of his own father, each and every child bitten and destroyed in the basement of the old home. A dungeon, without shackles but just as torturous, black and dire, a nomadic vampire's teeth sank deeply into their throats. Nameless, loveless, dressed in simple gear and dirty boots, a mysterious wrestler that was said to be everything that the poor family needed, the difference between ruin and vitality. A blessing handed straight from God.

From the dim corner of the room, between the mats and hanging trinkets, Stu watched mournfully as each of his sons and daughters were called down. Across wooden stairs that had no railing, away from their mother who, too, would come to her own changed existence. Confused and curious - the voice that beckoned sounded little like that of their father, sinister and cruel - the blood in their veins red and proud, pounded from hearts that had tried for so long. Fought until there was nothing else to give; covered in sweat, their screams soundless, an open wound split apart and dripped into their mouths, copper in taste, the white bend of a stranger's wrist. Surrounded by his dying siblings, motionless in all else but pained cries, Bret felt his life fade away. Be fixed to the picture that his father so wanted, to last forever, to never end, to be so powerful that none could stop it.

Whatever deal that had been made, it was, then, finished. Stu's part satisfied, his entire family welcomed into a world that they were not certain was true before. Starved upon awakening, a terrible agony in his stomach, the nameless vampire was gone, beyond Bret's reach once his senses returned to him. What was not clouded by craze, the sudden instinct to pursue and ravage, the air around him reeking of death. Abandoned by his maker, guided by his father, who was just as bewildered, Bret moved through the centuries practically alone. Kept humans at a distance - never to touch, never to hold, only to feed - swore never to harm, to always keep safe and be good to. He would never kill. Embraced vampires only socially, afar and away, unable to partake in their sick games or conversations. Grim torments, innocents tortured for pleasure, those who wished only to go home. Children who begged for their mothers, women who called for their husbands, supposed art that took to crimson shape. Bret couldn't keep from feeling repulsed.

Love was to be saved for his own kind. Others like him, who could best understand and not be scared. Nature akin to, it was the only sort of affection that Bret was safe to have. Not always tender, sharpened teeth, pointed nails, the love of creatures so many years old was different. Strange, from the perspective of those much more mortal, the brush of a hand against cheeks, of eyes that never seemed to lose focus nor interest. It was the only love that made sense. That could be fathomed, to be with a human seemed impossible. Surely to be followed by misery, accidental death, passion that could not endure, suicide, the tales of lovers doomed because of what they were. Hopelessly, desperately in love, Bret heard rumor about what his own kind carried out. How they chased and stalked, mouths twisted in wide grins, laughing and dancing in the walkways. Taunted the human, harassed the vampire, committed vile acts all for the sake and chance at amusement.

Great were the risks involved. Human and vampire alike, in listening to Niccola, watching her as she talked, the color of her blush, the pink of her smile, Bret was suddenly ready to brace them all. Instantly attracted, she was beautiful, far more so than any description. Quiet but attentive, the quirks of her character only seemed to settle his own, the perfect balance that had been missed for so long. Decades of loneliness, the bitter days of being without, an old vampire roaming an empty house. Fireplace unlit and the halls so cold; mirrors unreflective, rooms silent, arms without a mate to wrap around, to pull close and care for. Fond of so few outside of the familial coven, it was the mention of friendship that widened the soft smile upon Bret's lips. A delicate word, the sweetest sound to his ears, better than the orchestra that played just beyond.

"I would love that."

Bret scratched the curve of his chin, a nervous habit still practiced, when the skin would become irritable and rosey.

"Y'know... I... I don't have many friends. I've never been very good at talking to people. I've never really felt all that comfortable. Even before I was turned, I never quite knew what to say, how to act. Always been a bit awkward, I suppose, get too stuck in my own head. But if you'd have me, Niccola, I'd love for us to be friends. It'd be real nice."

"Some of my kind, they say that they don't remember anything about their human life. But, y'know, I remember all of mine." Bret began, weaving a history that was never recorded. "I remember the smell of the woods outside of my family home. Before they tore the trees down and built a shopping center. I remember the whistle of the cargo train that used to ride by. Where it's tracks used to be, main street now sits on. I remember a time before televisions and phones, cars and computers. It wasn't something that I wanted. I never wanted to be a vampire, Niccola. Honestly, I thought they were just a children's fairytale story. But... my father, Stu, he had dreams bigger than any of us, bigger and better than what we could ever possibly do. He desired more. Y'know, I don't even know his name, the vampire who turned me and my brothers and my sisters. My father, he used to train professional wrestlers, guys who fought in the clubs and in small barns. I believe that's how they met. This man saw my father, knew how desperate he was, how badly he wanted success, how greatly my family struggled, and gained his trust."

"My father, he let him into the house, watched as each one of us was bitten and transformed. I can still remember the feeling of his fangs piercing my neck, Niccola. It's been over a hundred years, and I can still feel him. I don't even know his name, my father never asked, perhaps never got the chance to once everything was said and done, but I can still recall the feeling of him on me. My life, it's never been the same since. But I wouldn't say it's been all bad. I've been able to continue with the things I love, reading and drawing. I still wrestle, just as my father wanted and as I've always enjoyed doing. I know my story isn't grand, but it's gotten me to where I am today. For the sake of my family, that's all I can really ask for. But you. You must tell me, Niccola, what's your story? I've told you mine. Now it's your turn."

The Belle of the Ball...

~*~ Carried over from Discord ~*~

She couldn't help the little whimper that left her as the gentleman pulled away from her, promising to come back with nourishment and tuck them away as requested…

Standing there in a daze as he walked away, it took her a moment to really gather her wits and bring herself somewhat rooted in reality as she had gotten lost in his eyes. She had gotten lost in the feeling of his body just barely pressing against her, his hand holding her own in…gods, was she just imagining it or was he reveling in the warmth that her touch gave? That he, too, did not want to let her go. That he didn't want the moment to end that was transpiring between them. And she knew, she knew that he knew. She noticed how he seemed to lean slightly forward, how he inhaled just a little longer. She had saw how his eyes had swept across the room as if he knew the greatest secret and he wanted to make sure that no one else was keen to it. What he knew was just for him, that was what the look in his searching eyes had told her before they settled upon her again as he excused himself in the most traditional of ways. Never had she been bowed to like she was someone of high importance, royalty.

She found herself breathless as he walked away, her heart racing within her chest and the beat thrumming in her ears that it almost drowned out the whispers she heard around her. Those same whispers had helped to bring her back to her wits even though it was so hard for her to dare take her eyes away from Bret. She was afraid of what she would see if she looked around in that moment. Would they be mocking her? Would there be others who would suddenly be more interested in her because of the Hitman's attentions upon her? Those type that always wanted what someone else had seemingly taken interest in… You are getting ahead of yourself, Niccola. He is just being nice. You are the one getting flushed and bothered by someone just being nice to you. Humoring you. Do get ahold of yourself!

Is he really…gather food for the food? Only him…

…such a fool. Doesn't he know he shouldn't stoop so low? He's the superior being.

My, my…doesn't she look like such a tasty morsel? She does smell so good. Maybe I can have the leftovers!

It was the shout of 'go get her, brother' that had pulled her out of her spiral, keeping her rooted in place just when she felt her resolve not to run and hide dwindle to nothing. Her violet orbs scanning the room to find the person responsible seemingly beaming at Bret as he had his way back to her; Sarah, who looked quite embarrassed, right beside him as well as a few others that seemed to have looks of hope in their eyes as they watched him close the distance. There really wasn't much time to process the moment as he apologized to her, looking absolutely shy as he explained why he had been gone so long. Had it really been that long? No, nothing unreasonable she felt though a part of her felt like it had been a lifetime. She felt…safe with him close by again. And she gave a relieved, warm chuckle at his mention of dessert preferences.

"You are so considerate, Mr. Hart. Thank you so much for gathering something up for me to eat. I really could have done it myself. And, wouldn't you know it, guess what my favorite dessert ever is? Mmmm love me a big slice of creamy cheesecake, especially with fresh or lightly dressed fruit on top. Especially cherries or strawberries!" she explains as she allows him to guide her out of the main ballroom and out onto the terrace. It was a gorgeous night. A breeze coming up from the coastline. The moon full and bright with sister stars dancing around it to match. Centerpieces of candles & flowers giving extra light while setting the mood, keeping nighttime bugs at bay with their scent. Outdoor sitting area was empty as everyone else was still inside, enjoying the dancing and socializing within the protected walls. Those who had travelled outside had continued on their way, down the stone steps that lead out onto the private strip of coastline and were off to seek their privacy closer to the waves.

It seemed a fitting setting to enjoy a bite to eat while getting to know more of the man that had somehow riled up her physically as much as he had comforted her mentality. This duality…was a bit maddening. She was still trying to determine where things would land by the end of the night, especially when he was complimenting her so yet seemed to be…the Irishwoman didn't quite know the word for it. Distant? But he was being so open with her. So he said but those eyes. Those eyes were telling of things left unsaid. Those were the thoughts she wanted to be privvie to soooo badly!

"My Mum always wanted me to be more social. My Papa was more than happy that I didn't want to deal with people, especially boys. He was a bit pouty when I told him with all honesty that I seemed equally attracted to women just as much as men but just hadn't found anyone who made me want to…come out I guess? Well, come out as in actually leave the house and go and do things. Again, Sarah fusses with me all the time that I could never meet anyone if I am never out to meet anyone and I do understand her point. It is why I try to fight her less and less about going to events that she finds that she thinks I won't be 'too uncomfortable' at. Though, as I mentioned, she has this tendency to leave me to my own devices," she relays as she settles down at the table, looking over the treats that he has brought her. Niccola cuts into the lamb, bringing a piece to her mouth to chew and savor. Her eyes flutter for a moment as a soft moan escapes her, warm smile curling her lips as she continues to chew until the bite is gone. Taking a sip of her lemonade, she gazes over his features for a moment before she speaks again. "You give me such compliments. I am sure you have seen many women in your lifetime and to know you feel I am worthy of being called beautiful among them is a honor. Especially from someone who, from where I am sitting, is quite handsome and definitely someone I would say is out of my league. So. Thank you so much for the compliment. I…"

There's a renewed flush to her cheeks as she tries to control her nerves. She had no clue where this…boldness was coming from. Maybe it was the thought that she could always escape, fly back to her city, and never hear about the fall out of her failed attempts of being 'presentable' ever again that had her taking such chances with her words. This night just kept coming with the firsts. "This lamb is really good. I, um, wish you could have a bite and try it but, I don't know, I am sure it would make you sick or the like. Tell me more about yourself. About your vampiric culture. About your stories of being a late bloomer and fighting grizzlies and becoming the man that is sitting across from me. I haven't felt so, well, comfortable speaking with another. You have been nothing but kind to me as well. I want to keep building upon that. This, um, friendship?"

Was this just friendship? A huge part of her was starting to settle into the fact that she didn't want it to be only that… @excellentexecution

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🩷🖤 "I had WRESTLING in my BLOOD." | Independent RP Blog for Bret Hart. | Written and Created by Kennzie. 🩷🖤

Home ~ Muse ~ Rules

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                                              don’t look back.                                            leave it all in the past. 

                                       …………………                                  we’ve come through the fire and,                                        though we’re still burning,                                             we’re stronger, now. 

                                                     WE  ARE                                                  UNSTOPPABLE 

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(Very Late) Drabble for the lovely Nonnie | Bret and sick Owen.

Nose filled with snot, skin hot and sweaty to the touch, a garbage bin close to the bedside, already contaminated with the memories of breakfast. Bacon and scrambled eggs, toast with two different jams, three chocolate chip muffins, orange juice to wash it all down; the Hitman hadn't seen Owen so sick. Not since the glory days of youth, before the force of other men's boots became marred to their backs, battle wounds and scars endured. In the hours when mother and father were off to their own adventures, little mind paid to the many children still at home, caretaker and brother endearments of an alike nature. Warmth of a boyhood bed replaced by the thin sheets and rough pillows of a hotel room, shelter for the Hart Foundation, ever still were movements done the same, a skilled hand never able to forget how to tend and protect, to make better despite the aches and pains of sickness.

Away from the enemy - a rattlesnake, a dead man, a boy-toy - an endless list of names and ugly faces, Bret did what he could for Owen. Limited, with nothing more than what was carried in gym bags or discovered in the shared bathroom of five, first was the arrival of a cooled towel to the forehead. Soaked through with chilled faucet water; numbed the flesh that worked against it, rung out the cloth in tight twists and pulls, until only the excess returned to the sink bowl, dripped in scattered droplets. Onto the burning skin in gentle delivery, delicate in its placement, tanned fingers brushing back wetted strands of blonde, waves of sunshine gold. Drawn from forehead to cheek, brown eyes ever attuned and watchful, the color of Owen measured as if he were something far more precious than a faction partner. Beloved more than words could properly say; love unchanged, years spent apart unable to destroy it, the malicious intent of powers beyond their control.

Blankets of the bed tucked in tighter around his body, for all the cold that the Rocket suffered, so, too, was his heat combated with. Shivers and shakes in duel conflict; one moment frozen, another overcome by fever. Additional comfort brought in the form of additional blankets, those of Bret's bed and Davey's, the air conditioner encouraged to its lowest temperature, the button pressed as many times as was allowed, the machine and her fans pushed to their maximum effort. All about the room replaced, the familiar brush of Calgary. Winter nights spent in the outside, beneath the stars, diamonds bright in the skies, the crisp winds. Medication of over-the-counter variety offered via opened hand, the palm that was known too well, into Owen's mouth did two bitter pills go, swallowed with the assistance of bottled drink, green and packed of electrolytes, orange label pressed into by weary fingertips, the bend of knuckles around.

Served almost to boil, room service requested soup eventually found its post within Owen's lap, the hold of his hands around a dull cup, cushioned by several pillows stacked in size order. White and plain ceramic - three types of vegetables bobbing in dark broth, irregular shreds of pale chicken - accompanied by silver spoon. What could be eaten done so, what the stomach gave permission to savor, Owen raised his flag of truce only after the sixth rise of his hand, silver dipped into a lump of carrot but never returned to chapped lips. Peachy and dry, the swipe of a tongue across them barely an impact, Bret took the cup, left it to rest on the bedside table, adjusted the blankets over exhausted shoulders once the rest of the body found its preferred position. So used, so beaten, by more than just the brutal ambush of a common-cold, his gaze lingered over Owen, listened to the way of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest.

Distant from Alberta, there was more than a hotel room striving for the safekeeping of Owen. Mind that never slept, anxiety that dared not to seek rest nor personal peace; sat nearest his bed in an empty seat, worried touch traveled from forehead to cheek, point of the jaw to the side of the neck. Embraced so softly, the pressure of fingertips hardly noticeable on the skin, the caress of thumb over the slender slopes and roughened edges. Decades unable to shatter the bond there - years dedicated, unable to learn nor know anything else - a kiss to the temple from the Hitman's lips, as Owen snored and the boys of the Foundation found trouble in the lobby. Davey making friends with the staff, the Anvil sharing his favorite jokes, the Loose Cannon bound for the first sign of chaos and antics.

Soldier assigned to the small space of a hotel room, committed was the Hitman. Never to stray, never to leave; stationed at the bed of his brother, warm and sunny, in smile and eyes, their hands joined together as the war of affliction continued on. Victory upon the horizon.

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School work has been so BUSY but I do plan to get to more writing here soon! Just so you know.

I am so EAGER to write and answer drafts/asks!

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🐝  *  ―  𝑮𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑷𝒀 𝑿 𝑺𝑼𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

from the grump ❛  how can you be this cheery already? we haven't even had breakfast.  ❜ ❛  just don't make a big deal out of this.  ❜ ❛  you know i love you, right?  ❜ ❛  i know, alright, i know i'm an asshole. but i'm trying here.  ❜ ❛  i'm sorry. i didn't mean what i said earlier.  ❜ ❛  do you always have to be so damn optimistic?  ❜ ❛  nobody has ever made me feel the way you do.  ❜ ❛  there's no way in hell i'm doing that.  ❜ ❛  i'm not good with this whole stupid feelings thing.  ❜ ❛  you make me want to be better. you make me want to be good.  ❜ ❛  can't you just move on and forget about it already?  ❜ ❛  i'm only doing this because you asked me to.  ❜ ❛  you're the only one who has ever believed in me.  ❜ ❛  you won't stop this until i say 'yes', will you?  ❜ ❛  how are you so happy all the time?  ❜ ❛  until i met you, i never thought i would've been capable of that.  ❜ ❛  you're the polar opposite of me.  ❜ ❛  whatever. i didn't think you'd care anyway.  ❜ ❛  your optimism might be starting to rub off on me.  ❜ ❛  why don't you give up on me like everyone else?  ❜

from the sunshine ❛  come on, it's gonna be fun!  ❜ ❛  see? i told you there's some good in you.  ❜ ❛  you should smile more. you have such a beautiful smile.  ❜ ❛  i'm so excited! there's so much i have planned for us.  ❜ ❛  i was just trying to do something nice for you.  ❜ ❛  do you always have to be so pessimistic?  ❜ ❛  stop being so stubborn. i'm trying to help you.  ❜ ❛  i knew there was a big softie under all that tough exterior.   ❜ ❛  i always feel better with you by my side.  ❜ ❛  sometimes you should let others in.  ❜ ❛  light up, [name]. we're gonna be here for a while.  ❜ ❛  why is it so difficult for you to accept a compliment?  ❜ ❛  stay? i just ... don't want to be alone right now.  ❜ ❛  just because i'm generally a happy person doesn't mean i can't have an off day.  ❜ ❛  i'm not some helpless little girl/boy!  ❜ ❛  you're not gonna get rid of me that easily.   ❜ ❛  stop that. i don't want you to talk about yourself like this.  ❜ ❛  of course, i remember! i remember everything you told me.  ❜ ❛  let's go outside and dance in the rain.  ❜ ❛  you don't mean that, do you?  ❜

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