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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 3 years

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The Last Dragon | The Witcher & Game of Thrones

Chapter 13 | Tearful Goodbyes

Pairing: Geralt x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after the events of the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 5200

Note: Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future uploads!

*Gasp* Could this be? Me posting another chapter after only two weeks?? Impossible! I promise this is the last chapter that is heavily filled with angst, at least for a while! I can't help it, Vis is a very sad bean who keeps all her feelings in a bottle, and then she'll die. I just-- I need the build-up man! The character development man! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think, I love reading all your comments and theories! <3

The cool air of night is a stark contrast to the heat inside of Visenya, which grew hotter as the chaos during the banquet did. But now that peace is restored, standing under the night sky lit up by glittering stars, she feels that heat simmer down until it's a comforting warmth. The northern wind is biting, but she welcomes the feeling, the cold reminding her of the North - of home. The cold that would chill her to the bone, leaving her with chattering teeth and icy hands that always seemed miserable is something she longs for; a semblance of normalcy. She inhales and then exhales, watching with child-like wonder as her breath becomes visible in the cold temperatures. So enraptured by the weather, she nearly forgets she isn't alone, and that Geralt is a few steps ahead of her now, watching her with curious eyes. Yet it's Jaskier's voice that pulls her from her stupor.

"So this is it?"

Visenya turns around, gold eyes wide with her lips set in a thin line. Jaskier is standing at the entrance of the castle, the noblewoman previously with him nowhere to be seen. He's disheveled and so unlike the normally prim and proper Jaskier she's accustomed to, his floppy brown hair windblown and sticking up in random directions. His clothes are wrinkled in odd places, ripped here and there, but overall mostly intact. His eyes are wide, as they normally are, but they're glassier than she remembers them being, the stars betraying what seems to be held back tears.

"You don't have to leave, you know, just because the Countess de Stael has agreed to be my patron. I could still use my bodyguard," Jaskier says, smiling, but it's not carefree and easygoing, brimming with his usual mirth. Instead, it's tight and harsh, not quite reaching his eyes. His hands loosely rest in front of him, fingers nervously intertwining with each other.

Visenya smiles, mustering all her strength to appear every bit the soft and docile maiden from every fairytale, looking at him like she would've Bran and Rickon. She sighs, forming and reforming the words in her mind, trying to find the perfect thing to say. But each time she comes short, a harsh reminder she'll never be a good poet.

Instead, she opts to shrug her shoulders and move closer to the entrance, closing the distance between them. She's melancholic, feeling as if another chapter of her life is coming to an end. She and Jaskier traveled together for years, how could she not feel a hint of emotion when it seems like their travels are on hiatus - if not done entirely.

"Come on Jane, you in court, scaring away all the mean people who want to kill me, we'd make the best team!" Jaskier exclaims, trying - and failing - to have his usual enthusiasm behind the words. They fall flat, sounding more desperate and sad rather than upbeat and encouraging. Visenya sighs once more, the smile on her face requiring less concentration as Jaskier continues to ramble. Finally, she closes the distance between them. "I'll never leave you to your brooding when you want!"

"Whilst that does sound interesting, I'm afraid I wouldn't do well in court," Visenya says, reaching out and taking Jaskier's hand in her own.

"I disagree, My Lady," Jaskier says, pursing his lips and looking at the ground, pausing for a brief moment, allowing the wind to whistle between them. "But I understand."

"My place is out there, where I can stab things," Visenya says, raising her brows with a small smirk on her face.

"You could do that here you know? Not to sound like I'm trying to talk you out of your decision because I respect your choices and everything," Jaskier says, his enthusiasm gaining traction with each word. Visenya laughs, a small laugh that's nothing more than a whisper, but it's music to the ears of anyone who hears it.

"I could, but that would get me in trouble with the law," she responds, shaking her head, the smirk playing on her lips morphing back into a gentle smile.

"Right, I almost forgot about that," Jaskier mutters looking up towards the sky.

"Goodbye Jaskier. Though with my luck this isn't the end, I'll run into you sooner or later," Visenya says, a mischievous glint in her normally stoic gold eyes.

"Oh, I'm afraid you won't get rid of me so easily, my fair lady!" Jaskier exclaims, perking up slightly. "Goodbye, Jane. You and Geralt watch out for each other, alright! I won't have the two scariest people I know both dying, then who'll serve as my protection at high-class events!" Jaskier proclaims, some of his natural charisma returning, his blue eyes not nearly as glossy as moments prior.

"I'll do what I can." Visenya places her hand on Jaskier's shoulder, pulling his body towards her's, wrapping her other arm around his neck as she hugs him. Shocked, Jaskier is stiff for a moment, before melting like morning dew under the hot sun and wrapping his arms around her. He breathes in and then out, as Visenya does the same until their breathing is nearly perfectly synced up. She places her face in the crook of his neck, burning the moment in her mind, unwilling to ever forget this moment in case it's their last. She inhales his scent, committing it to memory; juniper and sage, sharp and warm and earthy all at once, with a hint of sweet wine and linseed oil.

"I'm sorry," she mutters, the words muffled against his neck, but Jaskier understands her none-the-less. "I'm sorry for earlier,"

Jaskier's hand moves from her back to the top of her head, soothingly rubbing it as Lady Catelyn used to when Visenya would run to her crying about one thing or another. It's comforting and familiar, nearly bringing Visenya to tears from the simple act.

"It's okay, you're complicated, I paid extra for my bodyguard to be dark and broody," Jaskier says, a slight sarcastic quirk in his tone at the end. "But promise me you won't isolate yourself any more than you already have. Talk to Geralt, he understands broody and dark."

"I'll keep it in mind," Visenya responds, slowly opening her eyes and unraveling from Jaskier. "Maybe I'll tell you all about how complicated I am next time we meet?" Visenya gives him one last smile, slowly stepping away, but not turning her gaze away from him.

"Oh, I'll hold you to that promise, missy!" Jaskier exclaims, wagging his finger at Visenya as if she is a child. Once again she laughs, louder this time, not as restrained as it normally is.

"I'm counting on it," Visenya replies, talking one last step, turning around to face Geralt, rushing towards him, eager to escape the emotions brimming inside her. Trying desperately to not think about how odd it is that she is walking away from Jaskier, the only constant in this crazy world since the day they met.

"Goodbye, you two! Now take care of each other, in every aspect, if you know what I mean!" Jaskier calls out, disappearing into the castle before either of them could retaliate.

She meets Geralt, who says nothing, he simply raises a brow at her, silently asking 'Are you sure?'

"My place isn't in court." Is all she says. Geralt grunts, nodding his head, a stoic expression on his face. "Let's go back to the inn, I need an ale and lots of sleep."

A smirk creeps onto Geralt's face, his eyes shining with amusement, illuminated by starlight. He quietly snorts, turning to face the gate leading out to the main portion of the city.

"I can agree with that." In nearly perfect unison they walk out of the castle grounds, Visenya easily keeping up with Geralt's long strides. They're quiet, the only sound is their feet pounding against the cobblestone road and the ambient noises of guards and nobles around them.

A particularly strong gust of wind blows through the courtyard causing a piece of Visenya's hair to blow in front of her eyes. She grabs a small chunk of hair, intently inspecting the grey-brown strands. With the silver light shining from the otherwise midnight sky, she can nearly see the silvery-golden hue hidden under cheap hair dye. Or maybe it's a trick of her eyes. She lets out a puff of hair, blowing the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears to secure it in place.

"So a child," Visenya says, no inflection in her words as she continues to stare straight ahead. Geralt's steps falter for a brief second before he quickly regains his footing. He sighs, heavily, somehow managing to put in all his frustration and annoyance in one simple noise.

"I don't want to talk about it Jane," he says. His tone is stern as if he's talking to an unruly child. It reminds her of when she, Jon, Robb, and Theon were the terrors of Winterfell, in the days before they grew up and the world became dark. She can't help the faint smile that appears on her face, her gold eyes lighting up like the sun, but not nearly as bright as the summer sun in the South. It's more like the North, where the heavy fog and thick clouds obscure most of the sunlight, muffling the harshest parts of the rays and bathing everything in dim light.

"I know, but not talking about isn't going to make this go away," she says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He's clenching his jaw, veins on his neck slightly popping out. His lips are set in a thin line with eyes like stone.

"There's nothing to run away from," he says. Visenya stops, turning to face Geralt, reaching her hand out and grabbing his shoulder, stopping him in his place and turning him to face her.

"Geralt," she says, her voice serious and stern. "This isn't a joke. This isn't making a bargain with someone in a seedy part of town and running away before they can collect their prize. This is serious."

"I didn't take you as one to think destiny is real." Geralt says, raising a single brow at Visenya.

"We all need something to cling to," she responds, not breaking from his gaze.

"And what do you believe?" Geralt asks.

"That...everything happens for a reason; that there's a purpose behind every tragedy and triumph that we experience - both great and insignificant," Visenya says, keeping her voice low enough that any nosy passers-by won't hear their exchange.

"This isn't some divine plan; this was just a princess using her magic to get her way, destiny has nothing to do with a girl who has no idea how to control her powers," Geralt says, standing firm on his stance. Strong and stubborn; he would've done well in Winterfell amongst the Northern lords.

"Oh cut the shit Geralt, do you honestly have to be so fucking pragmatic that you can't believe in something if you can't see it with your own eyes," Visenay says, keeping her voice low enough as to not attract any more attention towards them. Whilst the crowds are thinning with each moment that passes, even one person seeing their argument is too many.

"I thought you were more intelligent than this, clearly I was mistaken" Geralt responds, taking a step towards Visenya. His eyes glow bright yellow like the fire burning inside of her. Geralt's fire collides with Visenya's ice. He's egging it on, he wants a fight, she realizes. For her to get so angry she yells and screams at him. Why he is, she's not sure.

"Do you have to be such an asshole, Geralt of Rivia? You have no right to insult my intelligence by being so patronizing, I'm not a child, don't treat me as such," Visenya says, spitting the words like they are venom. She steps closer to him, close enough that she can feel his breath and hear his heartbeat.

"Well, it's either that, or you sustained a far worse injury in that fight than originally thought. How could you believe in this horseshit?" He won't stop, adding further fuel to the fire inside her; her pride rearing its ugly head and demanding she win the fight, no matter how petty and uncalled for it is.

Visenya narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw. Her hands form fists at the side of her body, her blood nearly starting to boil from her rage.

"How could I not, after everything that's happened," she says with a voice like ice, so cold that it burns. Her words are quiet, but they're sharp, stabbing into Geralt like sharpened icicles in a winter storm.

"What? What happened Jane? I'm supposed to believe in destiny just because you survived a rebellion?" Geralt asks, a mocking tone lacing his cruel and coarse words. He's not malicious in his intentions, it shines in his eyes, but the words are daggers to her heart none-the-less.

"Stop it," Visenya whispers, taking a step away from Geralt, but he just moves closer. "That's not fair and you know it."

"The gods don't care who lives or dies, why should they care about some child--" Geralt continues, but Visenya interrupts him, her quiet words silencing him.

"I died," she simply says. Geralt closes his mouth, his clenched jaw loosening. Visenya takes a sharp breath and then lets it out, watching as her breath dissipates into the cold air. Heart pounding with shaky hands, Visenya closes her eyes for a moment and then opens them before continuing.

"My family was betrayed and they killed us, butchered at a wedding like we were nothing but cattle. Next thing I know, I woke up outside of Blaviken with this-" Visenya says. Gold eyes dart around their surroundings, searching for any eavesdroppers. Luckily, the streets are nearly empty, the few people still scuttling around not paying them any mind. She holds out her hand, and focuses on...something, trying to recreate the feelings that would bubble under the surface before the fire made its presence known. Her eyes flutter shut, and within a second, a small flame flickers in the palm of her hand, the fire quickly dying out. But it's all she needs.

"Fire magic," Geralt says, breaking Visenya from her concentration. She closes her palm, hiding the arm behind her back as if to protect herself from harm. She looks up, meeting Geralt's wide gaze. "Blaviken burning... that was you,"

Visenya nods, thickly swallowing the lump in her throat, trying to push away the haunting memories of Blaviken burning.

"I lost control and just-- exploded, by the time I came to, everyone was already dead," Visenya says, shrugging her shoulders, her voice hardly above a whisper; soft, weak, and almost completely vulnerable. She purposely leaves out the part where she reveled in the destruction, feeling glee from their suffering. Geralt is silent - maddingly so, it leaves Visenya tense and uneasy. Every second passing feels like a lifetime as Geralt stands in silence and Visenya awaits his response.

But he says nothing, just simply nods his head.

"What now? Are you going to put me down like one of those monsters?" Visenya asks, and despite the self-deprecating words, her tone holds no humor to it.

"You're not a monster." Geralt says, his words like a knife cutting through the thoughts rushing through her mind. "What's done is done."

Visenya nods, taking another step away from Geralt and turning to face the road, eager now more than ever to return to the inn. The rushing wind cools her face and eases the tension in her body, not completely, but enough that she isn't afraid of exploding. Geralt's heavy footsteps pound behind her, his long legs swiftly catching up to Visenya. It's silent, but not the soothing one that leaves Visenya comfortable. Instead, it's tense and awkward, the words from their argument lingering in the air.

"I'm sorry," Geralt simply says, his tone not as firm as it normally is. Geralt is always sure of what he says - whether it's sarcasm or not, but this time he isn't. Witchers hunt monsters, not console maidens. The effort causes Visenya to smile, a small sad smile that doesn't fully reach her eyes.

"It's okay, we both have issues," she says.

"If you want to speak about it--" Geralt begins, the words sounding unsure as they leave his lips.

"I know where to find you," Visenya finishes his sentence, the smile on her face growing bigger. "But, if I did, I'd have to kill you," she responds. Geralt narrows his eyes for a moment, before a small smirk appears on his face, cracking the stone in his expression.

"Maybe you should tell Jaskier then, rid me of that bard," Geralt says, turning and continuing to walk towards the inn they're staying at for the night.

"Oh, he's not that bad. I might actually miss the guy," Visenya says, a small smile resting on her lips. "There's never a dull moment."

"That's what I'm hoping for, dull moments," Geralt says. Visenya looks at him, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Well, I'm afraid you may not get that, not with me around at least." Visenya teases, cocking her head to the side as she raises her brows slightly. Geralt looks at her, scoffing quietly.

"I'm counting on it," he replies. Visenya laughs, the sound more similar to a scoff. They continue weaving through the citizens that remain on the streets. No one pays them much mind, too busy in their worlds, but the few that do take notice of Geralt say nothing. And Visenya is grateful, she's had enough excitement for one night.

o0o0o

The tavern on the level below them is particularly rowdy that night; horrible renditions of bawdy tavern jigs being sung by drunks, cackling men and women, and the thumping of feet banging on the floor and mugs on the tables. The wall shakes and the floor does as well, disturbing the small amount of peace Visenya has. She sits on the side of the bed, her bare feet hovering over the floor, only the very tips of her toes touching the cold wood. Except for the ambiance, the room is silent, but not unbearably so. It's comforting and entirely foreign to Visenya to be able to hear her thoughts.

Jaskier hated silence, needing to fill it with nonsensical rambles and filler thoughts to break the quiet. But Geralt revels in the silence, seeing it as a prized commodity he doesn't get blessed with often. The cool metal of her silver dagger cools the heat that's always under her skin. She balances it in her right hand while staring at the blank wall ahead of her. Jaskier always said she broods too much and is never much fun to be around when this way. Geralt is on the edge of the bed across from her, diligently cleaning his blade. Any dirt and residual blood from the feast have long since been cleaned off, Geralt continues to shine it. His ashen brows are furrowed and his lips set in a thin line. There's a small line that formed on his forehead, a dead giveaway that he's lost in thought.

Visenya sighs, placing the dagger back into its small sheath and sets that on the small table near her bed. The bed squeaks as she stands up, the floor creaking as she puts more weight onto it. Geralt pauses his sword cleaning for a split second but continues as if he never stopped.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

The floor creaks with each movement and the distance separating her and Geralt quickly dwindles until it's almost nonexistent, her knees nearly touching him. Wordlessly, she sits beside him, reaching a hand up and beginning the arduous process of unweaving the intricate braids Jaskier put in them. A partially broken fingernail snags in her hair, getting knotted and tangled.

"Fuck," she says quietly under her breath, bracing herself to rip the chunk of hair out. Mentally she counts down from three, pulling with all her force on one. Rubbing her fingers together, she looks at the snaggle she pulled from her hair.

"Here," Geralt says, sheathing his blade and setting it aside. His much larger and rough hand reaches up towards her head but hovers over his head. "Can I?"

"Sure, can't be any worse than me," Visenya says, turning around to give him access to the back of her head. Without another word, Geralt's hand tangled in her hand, but instead of the recklessness Visenya tackled her hair with, he's much gentler, managing to unweave the braids twice as fast as she would've.

"Can I ask you a question Geralt?" Visenya asks after a moment of silence. Instead of answering Geralt just grunts, focusing on a particularly difficult four-strand braid.

"Are there dragons? And are they real?" she asks, putting all her energy into keeping her inflection neutral. She remembers in the Main Hall when Princess Pavetta's scream knocked everyone to the ground and filled Visenya's head with visions of a great fire giving birth to a dragon. She remembers how the clearing smelt and the longing inside of her to run her fingers over the smooth golden scales of the baby dragon.

"Yes, they're real, though they're exceedingly rare." Geralt responds.

"Really? What kinds are there, or are they all the same?" she asks, trying to turn to face him, but his other hand cups her head, keeping her in place.

"There are five: green dragons, they're the most common; red dragons less so; and black dragons are the rarest," he answers. He finally managed to find the tie keeping the four-strand braid intact and began carefully unweaving it.

"What about gold?" Visenya asks, staring at the blank wall as she remembers that dream from the woods when she stood in the Throne Room, The Red Keep in shambles around her as a gold dragon flew above her.

"They're a myth," he says, combing his finger through the undone braid before moving onto the next.

"Oh," is all she says, unsure of what else to say. Disappointment fills her mind, and for the life of her she can't figure out why. They're only silly dreams after all, right? "You say they're rare, why is that?"

"Treasure Seekers, idiots eager to steal the dragon's hoard, all the better if they could slay it and bring back a trophy of their kill," Geralt says, carefully pulling apart a knot in her hair. He's much softer than Visenya would've thought.

"Why would anyone do that?" Visenya immediately says, her brows furrowing. A quiet ow leaves her mouth as Geralt finishes working on the snarl. He mutters a quiet sorry but moves onto the next knot.

"For sport. Slaying a beast of that caliber is seen as a high accomplishment to commoners and nobles alike," Geralt says. Visenya feels heat rush to her face, brows furrowing more, causing small lines to appear on her forehead.

"They're not beasts to me. No matter how terrifying they may be to everyone else, I envy them. To be able to go anywhere you wish and do anything you'd like. It's...nice, romantic in a childhood fairytale sort of what. I'd give anything to see one," Visenya says, her tone of voice similar to a wishful child dreaming of knights and kings, vying for a happily ever after with either.

"I never said I thought they were beasts. Though I can't say I share the same sentiment as you, I prefer to stay away from fire breathing creatures," Geralt says, glancing at Visenya from the corner of his eye.

"I guess it's just in my blood."

"Is that why you have a dragon on the hilt of your blade?" Geralt asks, throwing the last small leather strip from her hair across the room. Visenya's eyes watch it soar through the sky before smacking against the wall directly across from her.

"Something like that," she answers, absent-minded and lost in thought. "It was a gift from...an old friend," she continues, glassy gaze casting to the dusty floor. She clenches her jaw in a desperate attempt to keep it from trembling.

"Was it--?" Geralt asks, removing his hands from her hair, but Visenya stays in place. She fears if she looks at him she won't be able to control the tears building in her eyes, eager to be free.

"Yes, and his name was Robb. He wasn't my brother, not by blood, but the Starks were the closest thing I had to family. He had it commissioned for me when we went to war. It - and my cloak - are all I have left of them," Visenya says. Her voice breaks with every other syllable, the words barely heard over the jeering patrons from below. The fire in the far corner of the room cracks, the noise drawing Visenya's attention to the flames. They illuminate her eyes - even more than normal due to the unshed tears, bringing out the flecks of white and orange in them.

It's still fresh in her mind, a haunting vision that she can't escape no matter how much she'd like: the sea of dead bodies around her, only to find Robb's decapitated body when managed to free herself. His direwolf coat-of-arms the only thing left that could identify it as Robb Stark. It pulls apart the stitches she meticulously applied to each and every wound that she sustained in Westeros. Months upon months, maybe even years, of work, only for it to unravel within seconds. She wants to forget. To throw herself into something - anything - as long as it frees her from these memories that linger over her like a dark cloud.

She takes a deep breath, trying to erase her rapidly beating heart, slowly thickly to get rid of the small lump in her throat. Her eyes flutter closed, refusing to open until the building tears disappear. Eventually, they do.

"You're not from here, are you?" Geralt says. His sentence is a question, but she knows he already knows the answer. He always seems to know.

"No, I'm not," Visenya mutters, feeling drained as if she just ran a marathon on little to no sleep. She's tired, and she's tired of being tired all the time.

"But I don't want to speak about that," Visenya says, sitting up straighter and moving her gaze back to Geralt.

"What then?" Geralt asks, ashen brows furrowed and eyes gleaming with interest. Visenya leans up, her face mere centimeters away from Geralt's. But she doesn't draw any closer, instead, she stays perfectly still, feeling his breath fan across her face and listening to his steady heartbeat - the pace much slower than her own. Her eyes trace his face, focusing on a faint scar that rests on his right cheekbone. The healed injury nearly glows in the candlelit room. She places both of her hands on his shoulders, using him to steady herself. She feels light as air, getting drunk off of Geralt's scent, inhaling the smell of fresh herbs and leather oil as if it's a drug she's addicted to.

"Oh I'm sure you could figure it out," she replies, a smirk on her lips. A heartbeat later, Geralt surges forward, closing the dwindling distance between them. His lips press against hers, firmer than she remembers, but just as sweet - if not more so due to the sweeter Cintran ale. She leans into him, eager to be as close as physically possible, and even then it wouldn't be enough.

Visenya pulls back, deeply inhaling in an attempt to gain her lost breath. She stares into Geralt's eyes, seeing her reflection in them. They're memorizing and captivating, full of everything Geralt doesn't say with words. The longer she stares the steadier her breathing gets, but the heavy feeling from the feast doesn't lift, and the distraction of Geralt did nothing but provide simple fortification to an already lost cause.

"Oh my god," Visenya mutters, her somber tone a stark difference to the teasing one she used moments prior. "I died," she says, disbelief lacing each word like she can't believe them even as they fall from her own lips. "I was murdered at a wedding and I died," she repeats, the tears returning, only this time with more vigor and she's unable to contend with their will. They pour from her eyes like heavy rain, clouding her sight and judgment, until all she can think about is Walder Frey betraying them over and over again.

The memories she'd buried deep inside her resurfacing. Catelyn falling to the ground, crossbow bolts stuck in her body, and Robb's dead body - head severed and replaced with a direwolf head - being paraded around on a horse.

Geralt pulls her towards his chest, his expression softer than the usual stoic mask he wears, albeit confused at her confession. Of course, her timing could not have been worse.

It's the first time she ever admitted to what happened. That her death - along with Robb and Catelyn's were real.

This is all real.

Objectively, every injury she received; whenever she's thirsty or hungry; or every time she goes to sleep and wakes up should've been proof that she's alive and her surroundings are real. But she's never admitted it, not to anyone and certainly not herself. Westeros is a topic she specifically avoids, keeping it locked away to never be seen. Subconscious denial is safer when survival is a concern.

She sniffles once more and pulls back from Geralt. She rubs her hand across her eyes, drying the dampness. The tears eventually stopped, however, her eyes remained bloodshot and puffy. Geralt carefully watches her every move, removing his hands from around her. She stands from the bed to move back to her own, eager to leave this night behind her. But Geralt grabs onto her arm, keeping her from moving away.

She looks at him with glossy gold eyes but says nothing, and neither does he. Yet he's speaking more clearly to her than anyone ever has in her life. Silently, moves back onto the bed, Geralt moving with her. He pulls back the blankets, motioning for her to enter first. The bed is as uncomfortable and itchy as hers, yet when she finally stops moving and Geralt gets beside her, she's the most comfortable she's ever been.

They continue to say nothing for the rest of the night. Visenya closes her eyes, moving onto her side, facing Geralt who stays on his back. Each time she blinks her eyes grow heavier and heavier, each breath deeper until eventually, she closes her eyes and the world turns black.

o0o0o

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher crossover #game of thrones crossover #house targaryen #targaryen!oc #the last dragon #CrossOver #witcher #Geralt

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pressedinthepages · 4 years

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Solivagant

Latin. noun. someone who wanders or travels alone; a solitary adventurer.

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 1347

Rating: M

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request by @theichabbieclub: “ Geralt x Jaskier x Reader. Reader is covered in a bunch of fresh blood and their nose is bleeding. They are in shock (their eyes are wide, their breath is rapid and deep, their hands are shaking and they keep rambling about how they never knew someone could have so much blood in them. Geralt and Jaskier finally succeed in calming the reader down. (Grey's Anatomy 6x23 when April finds Reed is what I'm thinking off. It's on youtube 🖤🖤🖤) THANK YOU.!!!!!!!!” (this has also been posted to AO3 but I don’t wanna link to an outside site cause of the whole thing with the tags…we’ll see what happens)

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox @havenoffandoms @queenxxxsupreme @mishafaye @criminallysupernatural @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @magpie343 (There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: angst, comfort, blood, brief descriptions of violence

You stumble into camp, covered in blood, and Geralt and Jaskier have to figure out what happened.

I swear if Jaskier doesn’t play something different, I’m gonna rip his damn fingers off. Jaskier has been working on some new song, only humming absentmindedly as he scribbles in his little journal. He keeps playing the same string of chords over and over and over, and Geralt is *this* close to losing his mind.

Geralt forces himself to take a deep breath through his nose, the scent of smoke and lute oil settling in his chest, settling his mind. He closes his eyes and lets his mind wander, slipping into something close to his meditative state. The air is quiet, the crackling of the fire and the repetitive melody of the lute drowning out the other noises of the forest they are camped in. He lets himself follow the music, breathing in and out with each echo of the same chords…

Until Jaskier’s fingers slip, missing a beat. He curses loudly, causing Geralt’s eyes to snap open as his state of relaxation shatters. Geralt flies to his feet, mouth open and intent on telling the bard off for being so relentless in his quest to annoy the ever-loving shit out of him tonight, but the sound of a twig cracking at the edge of their camp catches both his and Jaskier’s attention.

Geralt turns slowly and sees you brace yourself on the side of a tree as you stumble into view. Your entire being seems to be in disarray, your purple shirt hanging askew and there is a tear in the side of your trousers above the knee. Your hair is wild and tangled on itself, and there is a small cut on your forehead, and another on the crest of your cheek.

The metallic stench of blood is overwhelming, burning the insides of his nose as both he and Jaskier rush to your side. In the light of the fire, Geralt can see now that your shirt isn’t purple, it’s blue, and drenched in blood. It stains your neck and along your forearms, and small drops fall down the point of the dagger still clenched in your hand. None of that is what really bothers Geralt, though.

Your eyes, usually bright and shining with life, are dull, as if a cloud had settled beneath your eyelids. You are staring at nothing in particular, your mouth slack as your chest heaves with every breath. Jaskier whispers your name, moving closer with a hand stretched out, as if towards a skittish deer.

The second his hand grips your arm you are shocked back to reality, staring into his eyes, so clear and blue it is almost haunting. Geralt mimics Jaskier, slowly walking towards you with his arms raised, palms facing you. He sees your eyes flit back and forth between them, blue and gold full of worry and confusion. He can hear your heartbeat, quick and panicked under your skin.

“What happened, love? We thought that you just went into town to grab some supplies,” Jaskier whispers, his voice low and soothing under the stars. Geralt sees your eyes start to shine with tears, but something is off in your expression, like you are not fully with them in the camp.

You meet Jaskier’s eyes, holding them in your own. Your voice wobbles when you speak, standing completely still and holding onto the dagger like a lifeline. “Did you know that blood has gold in it?”

Geralt can almost see the gears in Jaskier’s head turning, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “I-what? Uh, no, no I didn’t know that…” Jaskier whispers, not moving any closer until he figures out what exactly is going on. He glances back to Geralt, worry seeping from his pores.

“It does,” you say, bringing Jaskier’s eyes back to you. “It’s only a little bit, but it’s there…” you fall silent, but your heart is pounding mercilessly against your chest. Your words start to come faster, pouring out of you in a rambling torrent of gibberish.

“You know, I’ve seen lots of blood before, I know what it looks like when stuff bleeds, it doesn’t make me sick or anything” your voice is growing higher with each breath, shaking and tumbling as tears begin to fall unbidden down your cheeks. “But, I don’t think I’ve really seen a person bleed, not like that anyway, I didn’t know we had so much blood, you can’t even really picture it until it’s all just spilled out on the ground and you can’t look away and you can’t move and you can’t breathe…”

Geralt swiftly moves forward, gently gripping your shoulders and turning you to face him. One hand moves slowly down to the dagger, covering your hand in his. “Look at me, take a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Under the metallic sharpness of blood, Geralt scents the sour tang of fear. Not fear of him, but of whatever it is that you saw, what you did.

You follow his instructions, keeping your eyes locked on his as you take a slow, shaky breath in and let it back out. You do that a few more times, growing more in control with each exhale. Geralt hears your heart begin to slow, still fluttering rapidly but not enough that he’s terribly worried.

“Now,” he murmurs, making his voice as smooth and soothing as possible. “Tell us what happened.”

“I-I was on the way back here,” you start, your voice small and timid now that it isn’t fuelled by panic. “I was cutting through the woods when I heard men’s voices. They were talking about us, planning to sneak up on us in the night a-and kill us.”

Your voice breaks, sobs finally slicing through your chest as you crumble, Geralt surging forward to catch you. Jaskier moves too, wrapping his arms around your back as you cry into Geralt’s chest. The three of you sink to the ground, Geralt pulling the dagger from your hand and placing it safely out of your reach. Jaskier is murmuring quiet things in your ear, calming reassurances that you’re all safe and okay. Geralt isn’t sure what to say, so he settles on resting his cheek on the top of your head as he gently rocks you in his arms.

You stay like that for what could be hours, days, you don’t know. But when Geralt feels you calm again, your chest no longer heaving with sobs and your hands no longer shaking with unbridled hysteria, he moves back a bit, giving you room to breathe. Jaskier’s head rests on your shoulder, his thumbs making gentle circles along your arms.

“I killed them,” you whisper, Jaskier silently quirking an eyebrow at your words. “I snuck up on them, used the dagger...I got one of them in the chest, but I hit the other in his neck, and when I pulled back, gods it was just everywhere…”

Jaskier shushes you, crooning low in your ear as they both hold you tight. You can hear their hearts around you, Jaskier’s fast and light at your back, and Geralt’s slow and steady under your head.

“Thank you,” Geralt says, his chest rumbling with the words. You lift your head, eyebrows crinkling as your mind races.

“Yes, love, thank you, you saved us,” Jaskier’s voice is soft in your ear as more tears fall from your eyes. Jaskier places a light kiss to the skin still exposed on your shoulder, hugging you tight to his chest as he does.

Geralt once again follows Jaskier’s lead, leaning forward and placing a kiss to your forehead. As he pulls back and wraps his arms around both you and Jaskier, holding you close, you relax into him and feel your mind start to finally calm.

All of your legs are twisted together on the ground, your arms are crunched up against Geralt’s chest, and you can feel the blood drying on your skin and getting sticky. But as you sit, enveloped by the warmth and safety of the men you call your family, you would not move for the world.

#geralt x reader #jaskier x reader #geralt x jaskier x reader #angst #blood #soft bois #providing comfort #im here for it

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rotomgender-moved · 3 years

Text

Runs in Our Family, Part two

Warnings: Ask To Tag, Injuries

Word Count: 2.3K

Part Two

The first thing N noticed was the sheer noise that we're coming from this group of children. Second, was the child on child violence going on-

Where are their parents? It made them confused and concerned for a moment, did they not have a chaperone? Who would trust children with pokemon on their own?

It was when he saw someone cowering in the corner that he realized, yes, they did have a chaperone. They've just dethroned the poor guy.

"Pl-ease calm yourselves!" The man squawked, "We can't have anyone getting hurt! Especially Wally, the poor boy is sickly enough!" As soon as the man's gaze met N's, he got up and quickly struttsd over with the grace of a swana. "Oh thank Arceus- can you please help out? Entertain them for a bit so I can set up lunch? The triplets and Mallow asked me to distract them, but they're treating me as a joke-"

"I'll help. My name is N."

"Thank you, oh thank you so much! My name is Wallace, I was a gym leader back in Hoenn." Wallace greeted with a relieved sigh. "Just give me a moment, I'm sure you can handle it for a few minutes. I just need to grab a change of clothes so these ones dont get dirtied, they're a bitch to handwash." He chuckled a little, patting N's shoulder and slipping by.

"... language." N muttered quietly.

He felt eyes bearing into him as the room suddenly fell silent, Ruby spoke up.

"This is the guy with the white dragon Nate was talking about! All the cool pokemon that he can talk to!" The boy grinned, throwing his hands up.

"Uhm… Hello-?"

"He looks like a twig." A voice spoke up, one with that accent he couldn't place who paralyzed him. The little brats.

"Yeah… He- He looked like a mess-"

"Okay! Okay that's enough!" As Rosa and Nate approached, tugging Hugh behind them like a ragdoll, N snapped his head to them.

"Why did you tell them about the white dragon?" N hissed, giving the twins and their friend a glare. "You aren't meant to just-"

"Shut up, N, anyways!" Rosa continued. "He's sensitive, so don't touch him or be too loud. Or pull his hair, I got bit for that once."

"He bit you?" A gasp came from a blond girl playing with her tall, blue frog pokemon.

"No, Ex, his Unphezant did. Wh- Why would he bite me?"

"Isn't he that guy that Bede nearly killed in the woods?" Ex said, and a gasp came from one of those kids, as though he had been personally offended. From how he looked, N assumed Bede was one of the kids on the boat in a fight.

"It was not me! It was Gloria and you all know it!" He spat.

"It wasn't me, it was Victor!" Gloria hissed back.

"It was me- stop fighting you aggressive dunces." Victor smacked the back of Gloria's head. "Sorry about that again, Mint-Boy."

N starred in awe at how fast all these kids started antagonizing each other. It was almost impressive how tense the energy in the room is. He looked down to Hugh.

"Is this how it always is?"

"Yeeeaaaah, just about."

"Oh my…" N took in a sharp intake of breath as Wallace returned, immediately sighing in defeat. Wallce had this elegant energy tacked on him that was absolutely torn due to the rowdiness of all the kids.

"Did they give you too much trouble?"

"No, they were distracted tearing each other apart."

"I see, well. How about you show off your pokemon, or battle one of them? I'm sure they'd appreciate the form of stimulation that isn't… Whatever Silver, Gold and Crystal do." He motioned his hand to a group of three. That foulmouthed redhead getting put in a headlock by a brunette boy. Who seemed to be playfully insulting him while a young girl kept score on a piece of paper.

"Yeah… I'll do that." N nodded, stepping towards the group while Wallace went to break up the rough housing between the three mineral-named children. He immediately was met by a small, frail green haired boy, who had a nervous smile and a cheerful wave.

"Hello, sir! I was told you could speak with pokemon. I wanted to ask if you could hear what my pokemon can say?"

"Oh, uh." N wasn't sure what to do, ever since he had left Team Plasma he had never been around so many people. He thought back on Zoroark's words. That talking to people would do him some good. "Yes, I can do that for you and… Whoever else wants me to." He promised, sitting down.

"I'm Wally, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Call me N."

He met many faces so quickly! Barry, the energetic boy with a Staraptor who seemed to have nearly the exact same spunk. Wally and his elegantly worded Gallade, who worked tirelessly to defend the boy. The endlessly smiling Hop and his gruff, aloof Dubwool, as well as learning that the four accented children are from a place called Galar. Ex and Wy, two twins with teams that seemed to completely mirror one another. The hot headed Silver and his Magnasium, who N believes that Zororak would get along wonderfully with.

Seeing all these trainers and pokemon with such diverse personalities couldn't help but make him smile. Especially the grins that they got being able to know exactly what they're pokemon thought of them. Silver's reaction made him the most joyful, seeing the boy try to hide that toothy little grin and begin to ride on his grass types back, whispering to her and thanking her. It made N's heart swell, so much so that he had to return the favor and do as he promised Ruby.

He released nearly all of his team except one; Zoroark, Vanilluxe, Archen, Unphezant and Klinklang. Leaving the white dragon out of this. Some seemed unimpressed, having seen all of these pokemon before. But quick as a bolt of multicolored lightning, some of them rushed over to examine them.

"What is it?" chimed Crystal, running her fingers through Archens feathers.

"Oh you're really tough-looking!" Barry grinned, Klinklang allowing the blond to feel its many gears.

"This is that Zoroak you were talking about, right?" Sapphire questioned, examining the illusionist's paws.

Question after question was thrown his way, as N chuckled and tried to keep up.

"This is Klinklang, he's an electric-steel type pokemon. This is Archen, a flying-rock type. Be careful, it's shy! Zoroark is a dark type, Vanilluxe is an Ice type, and Unphezant. A flying-normal type." N explained, smiling a little as Zoroark nodded in approval. He began to ramble on about the pokemon, answering any questions and quieting down to listen to any of the kids' connections, stories and such. It seemed to calm down… Almost all of them. Except for one, who he had found left the room at some point… Wallace was gone as well. Maybe he had gone off with one of them for one reason or another? It caused confusion and worry to boil deep down inside his belly as he quickly realized which of the kids was missing.

Where had Sapphire slipped off all the sudden?

/// Sapphire ///

"Wallace, come on!" Sapphire called over her shoulder, dashing through the forest. In front of her ran her Blaziken, slapping away vines and thick brush so that the others behind it wouldn't trip and fall. Above them, the call of a Skarmory alerted them that Steven Stone was keeping up well and various other cries of pokemon meant that the entire group was keeping up.

Sapphire was in the lead as Wallace, Steven, Red, Iris and Cheren kept up. There was a disturbance, they knew that was true. It was something that they could just tell deep inside them, something Sapphire knew all too well. A tight ball in her guts that her pokemon seemed to feel as well.

"Over here!" Cheren called out over his shoulder, the cry of his serperior confirming his claim. "I saw the flash of a pokemon being returned! Tuxedo, short hair from the silhouette I saw!"

"Got it, Skarmory that way!" Steven called from above, leading the group away.

"I'll check over there in case they run!" Sapphire yelled to the group, hearing a grunt of approval from Blue as she ran off with Sceptile. Her running steps crunched the leaves as the leaves thickened above. Blotting out the sky and leaving the light being emitted from glowing flowers, vines and mushrooms.

The deeper she ran, the more the air thickened with the smell of heavy, damp leaf mold and sickly sweet tree sap. The deeper she ran… The more she realized how lost she got herself in the heat of the moment.

Sapphire was lost in an unrecognizable part of the forest, lit merely by glowing plants and fungus and silence broken by the movement of distant pokemon and whistling wind. As she walked, she felt the ground disappear from her feet. Before she knew it, she was tumbling down into a small ditch. Sapphire yelped as she fell, feeling a pain in her arm as she hit the ground.

"Ow- ow." She groaned, slowly getting up as Sceptile slid down to follow its owner. When she got up, her Sceptile put a claw on her shoulder, grunting and looking around in preparation to attack at any moment. That moment came soon then she thought, two pairs of eyes suddenly lighting up the darkness, the movement of something stalking and something else dragging itself.

She backed into the Sceptile out of fear, looking up at the narrow-eyed pokemons threatening glare. As the pokemon revealed themselves, Sceptile growled. A large, fiery maned pokemon with a dark brown pelt beside a tall, haunting pokemon made of wood and leaves. A lion and a tree, slowly stalking towards her. As she shut her eyes and slowly pointed, ready to command an attack, a voice spoke from behind the two pokemon.

"Are you lost, little one?" A smooth and low voice with a kalosant accent, worry panging their voice. As she cracked open her eyes, she was met by a tall and regal man with long, red hair. His face was aged, but only ever so slightly. Maybe in his thirties or forties. "Are you okay?"

"I'm… I ran off trying to find someone that did some bad stuff." Sapphire explained. "Got seperated from my friends."

"Oh my," The man began, approaching a bit and opening a pocket. "You're hurt, let me help you. Show me your arm." The brunette looked, noticing her arm had a bleeding cut. She hadn't even noticed the cut itself when she initially fell, too struck with shock and fear to notice anything but momentary pain. She held out her arm, which the man carefully took in dark-gloved hands. As though he would shatter her in a moment.

"Thank you." She quietly nodded as he began to clean the wound with some disinfectant pads he had in his pocket. Soon following it uo with two or three bandaids.

"No need, petit ami. Is your Sceptile alright? I'm sorry if Treevanant and Pyroar caused you any trouble."

"No! No- they just scared us. Sceptile's okay."

"That's good to hear, a relief." He nodded. "My name is Lysander, I was invited here from Kalos. I missed the main boat so I came on a different one." Lysander explained, taking his hands away.

"Sapphire, Grass Type gym leader in Hoenn." She introduced herself, sticking her injury-free hand out. Which he took and gave a gentle shake."

"Pleasure to male your acquaintance." Lysander nodded. "Allow me to take you to the home of some friends and I, you can rest up for the night and be on your way. It's quite late."

"Is it?" She asked.

"Yes, nearing the faery's hour." He explained, patting Pyroar's back. "Come and sit on him, I'll guide you back. I promise he doesn't bite." Lysander offered, slowly backing away.

Sapphire thought for a moment, this wasn't the first time in her journeys she's accepted such offers, as well as Sceptile being right beside her, she decided her best interest would be to accept.

"Alright! Thank you again."

"No need." He smiled warmly, directing his pokemon to bend at the knees and allow her to climb on. As they began on the path, he clicked the button of a PokeBall to the Treevanant, returning it. "I'd hate to see someone with an injury rot away into something hideous."

Sapphire nodded, stroking Pyroar's mane with a hum. The pokemon was quite warm and each swish of its tail caused embers to float in the air for a moment. Leaving small wisps of light only to die out, the silence broke as Lysander joined in the humming with a tune. His warm smile has turned softer, more relaxed.

"What are you humming?" Sapphire tilted her head.

"Oh? An old song from Kalos." He shrugged, only making her curiosity rise.

"Can you sing it? I wanna hear it." She grinned as he knitted his brows in thought.

"If you wish," He chuckled a little as he cleared his throat. "Forgive if I'm rusty."

"Comme les ténèbres obscurcissent la lumière,

L'or du soleil étouffé par la nuit d'argent

Oh, petit, ne te laisse pas faire confiance

Les sauvages qui font des bonbons avec de la rouille

Ils arpentent les chemins, les forêts de fae,

Et avec la lune ils font ce qu'ils peuvent

La nuit hantée par les fantômes et les Gengar

Ils portent des malédictions de près et de loin

Toutes les personnes de Kanto à Galar

Sachez que les pierres pointues et les roses

Cachez-vous parmi les étoiles."

#rangers writing #runs in our family fanfiction

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blazerina · 4 years

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Right Here (Mal x MC)

Word Count: 1569

A/N: I’ve got Mal on my mind these days and this little scene came to me. Can’t wait to see what Blades as in store for us tomorrow…but until then, enjoy this fic! xoxo

Tag List: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @queerbrujas @myusualnerdyself @mvalentine @jasminedayz @choicesobsessed @brightpinkpeppercorn @superpug815 @fallendarkangel693 @indescribablybre @choices-dan @sevesseasofbecky @romascourtesan @lahellacute @kingliamsbitch @creatingjana @shathaibra @mindlesschicca @parkerstorms @ink-spilled-stars @777greywolf @dailydoseofchoices @lonelysoulallday @hilariouslyalive @ntoraplayschoices @wistalica @virtuallytakenby @piinkheart @drakewalker04

Mal crept into Raine’s room without making a sound. He was incredibly proud of himself and desperately wanted to announce how adept he was at figuring out how to make his way into any room at any time, but he bit the inside of his cheek instead, knowing he needed to remain quiet. He had great plans for this morning before the group departed on yet another journey.

It wasn’t lost on him how ironic it was that only a few weeks ago he was stealing physical objects like gold, weapons and sometimes food, yet now he was focused more on stealing moments alone with a certain young woman’s heart. He had never pictured himself to be one so easily be smitten. But somehow he found himself here, before the break of dawn, sneaking into her room hoping to steal her away for a secret adventure meant only for the two of them to share.

The room was dark, but he was skilled enough to make his way through without issue. As he approached the bed, he made note of how fast his heart was beating within his chest.

“Good morning, kit.” Mal let the words roll off his tongue in a soft whisper as he leaned in closer to the lump in the bed.

He waited a few moments before speaking again.

“I know it’s early, but I have a surprise for you…” he was hoping she was as excited to be spending time with him as he was with her.

However, the longer the silence continued, the more worried he became.

“Unless that surprise is mead or some kind of food, you’d better be on your way, lover boy.”

Threep’s head popped out of the blankets covering the bed, a sly grin on his face.

“She’s gone.” He yawned, stretching his limbs above his head.

Looking at Mal, Threep began to giggle uncontrollably, sitting up a little more. He used a paw to wipe away a few straggling tears from his eyes as they began to water from laughing so hard.

“Oh! If you could only…see your…face…” He continued, now in a full-on fit of laughter as Mal stiffened.

“Curses! You mongrel-hybrid, good-for-nothing…” he muttered, walking towards the door.

“Have a good laugh, we’ll see who’s enjoying life once they’re stuffed in a bag for hours on end.”

With that he slammed the door, a little too loud for this early in the morning and made his way straight outside.

Mal could not help but be disappointed. He had a grand plan, and already the day was not cooperating. Perhaps he should have told her about this adventure the night before, he scolded himself. Feeling dejected and down-trodden, Mal continued on the path he had found by accident the day before.

As the path wound its way up a small hill to a beautiful lookout spot surrounded by rocks and greenery, he sighed. Keeping his head down, he kicked a few small stones out of the way and ran his boots along the edge of the path, through the dirt. It was still dark as the sun had not yet risen. He didn’t know how much time he had left before dawn would break.

“I’m probably better off on my own anyway…” he said out loud, deciding to look out over the vast countryside.

Mal knew this would be a beautiful place to watch the sunrise and he had attempted to share it with only one other person, but now just like everyone else in his life, she was gone.

“Well that was an awfully dramatic thing to say.” Her voice called out from behind a tree.

“Raine?” Mal asked, turning around as if he were on a swivel.

“What are you doing here?” They both asked each other at the same time.

Mal’s face lit up at the sight of her, and she responded accordingly, smiling broadly back at him.

“I actually was going to see if you…uh…” suddenly he was nervous. Scratching the back of his head and now finding himself unable to make eye contact with her, he stumbled over what he was trying to say.

“Isn’t this place magical? No pun intended.” Raine rolled her eyes, knowing that Mal was about to call her on it.

“I found it the other day when I needed a moment to myself, and I knew I just had to come up here to watch the sunrise.”

She was spinning around in the early light of daybreak like some sort of princess in a fairytale.

Mal stepped back, a little surprised. “Are you okay?” He asked, arching his scarred eyebrow.

“I’m great! Never been better.” And just like that, she was the one who now seemed nervous.

“You do know that I am extremely experienced at reading people, right? You’re not acting normal. What’s going on?”

Raine bit her lip and sighed deeply.

“I knew that you wanted to bring me up here and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it so I decided to get up early so you couldn’t come get me and now I’m here and you’re here and it’s awkward.”

She winced as those words spilled out of her mouth all in one breath.

“What?!” Mal pretended to be incredibly shocked, trying to bring a little levity to the situation. His hand on his chest, his mouth hanging open.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not awkward, kit! There’s nothing awkward at all about two friends, sneaking off together in the dark, to a secluded and incredibly romantic spot, if I do say so myself, to watch the sunrise!” Mal moved closer to her as she turned to face him.

“Mal. Please. Be serious.” Raine asked him, honestly.

He was about to protest and say something else slightly humorous, but he closed his mouth and listened intently.

“I found this spot and saw your boot tracks. So I knew that you’d been here…and then I overheard you telling Tyril that you had a plan to spoil me today…I got nervous and tried to take control…and I would just hate it so much if I hurt you…”

She seemed genuinely concerned and reached out to him, brushing a stray curl of hair from his forehead.

He reached out to her too, taking both of her hands in his, looking her in the eyes. When he held her gaze like this, he was reminded of just how far he had fallen for her. He swore to the gods he could get lost in her blue-green eyes forever and that he didn’t care if he never saw another mug of ale, barrel of mead or pouch full of gold for as long as he lived, as long as he had Raine by his side.

“I am so proud of you.” He beamed, his chest swelling with happiness.

“You tracked my footprints to find out I’d been here and hid in the shadows to listen to my conversation with elf-boy?” Mal smirked, knowing that he was needling her in the best of ways.

Raine didn’t respond, but looked up at him from beneath her dark, thick lashes.

“Look, kit, it’s always okay to be honest with me. You know that right?” Mal still held her hands in his as their faces got closer and closer together. His voice still barely above a whisper.

“I may not be an honest man by trade, but I expect honestly out of the people I lo—” he stopped himself.

Raine’s eyes grew wide, a smile spreading across her face. It quickly faded as she tried to keep her composure, while a small blush crept across her neck and cheeks.

Mal cleared his throat in an unexpectedly loud manner, and continued.

“Look, the point is, you can tell me anything and the last thing I ever want to do is make you uncomfortable. I guess…and this is hard for me to admit…” he exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe I misread you, I could have gotten the signs all wrong…” he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders, returning his gaze to her eyes once again.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them both, still holding hands, still looking at each other. Neither one wanted to be the first to look away. Mal was almost daring her to speak, using only his eyes.

“You didn’t…I’m just…” Raine swallowed hard, working up the courage to finish her sentence.

“…scared.”

“Scared? A strong, bold, powerful warrior like you, scared?” Mal tipped her chin up to him as she had looked away upon admitting her vulnerability.

“Hey! You missed an adjective there. You didn’t say beautiful?” Raine said confidently, looking him right in the eye.

Mal was about to interject when beams broke through the low-laying clouds and sunlight covered the hilltop where they both were standing. It was a glorious site, one that took the breath out of both of their lungs.

“Mal! We missed it!! We missed the whole sunrise because of me…and my ramblings…and my stupid insecurities...” Raine was whining, still feeling awful.

She had turned to look at the scene in front of them but Mal’s eyes were still fixed on her.

“I don’t know what you’re taking about, kit. I didn’t miss anything.” He said, almost breathless.

“I set out this morning on a quest to find a gorgeous view, and I’ve found one.

Right here.”

#blazerina bables #mal x mc #mc x mal #mal volari #mal gals unite #think mal gals will ever catch on?#me either #worth a shot #mal gal pals #haha

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eirian-houpe · 3 years

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The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 42

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Read Previous Chapters on AO3

Chapter 42 - Secrets and Lies

She couldn’t have said when it was that her rapid footsteps became a jog, became a full out run, nor when she stopped. She leaned on her knees, breathless, her heart pounding and not just from the run. The thoughts and images she had seen, the things she had felt still swirled in her mind, making no sense, except perhaps that she really had imbibed too much of the local brew.

She shook her head. She didn’t feel drunk, she just couldn’t explain anything she’d seen the moment Gold took her hand.

She let herself sink to the ground, and wrapped her cloak around herself, taking deep breaths to try and get control of her rising emotions. After everything that had happened with Hunter, she didn’t need to be getting lost in another fantasy.

Find something real That’s what Ruby had said, and that was what she needed to do, but… she had always felt some kind of pull, some kind of connection between herself and Gold.

“No,” she told herself. “That doesn’t happen. That kind of thing only happens in fairy tales!”

She pursed her lips, realizing she was rambling to herself, to keep from repeating herself over and over again; made herself sit very still, taking deep breaths. The last thing she needed now was for her anxiety to return, not after all this time of being well.

She sat for what seemed like hours before the chill of the evening began to seep through her cloak, but at least her heart was beating more steadily, and her breathing was calm. She looked up at the sky, still peppered with stars, the only light for miles, besides the flickering orange and red of the bonfire, somehow still burning.

Standing, she looked back to the area, and saw the people of Storybrooke caught in their festival revelry next to, even around that bonfire, and somehow felt apart from the community again, as though what little inroad she had made as the librarian had been shattered in the moment that she ran from Gold. That apart from him she was apart from them.

It made no sense to her, and so she did what she would always do in such a time. She stood, wrapped her cloak around her, and began to walk.

When she arrived back at the field that was the festival ground, it was to pick her way carefully and quietly through the individuals and couples who, by then, lay wrapped in their blankets and coats, curled up on the ground that had been their dance floor, and their community hall - the invisible shelter still spread over them.

A few were still awake, sitting up in small groups, leaning against one another and murmuring softly among themselves, some still in their cups. One or two offered her a silent wave of greeting as she passed them, which she returned with as much half-hearted enthusiasm as she could.

Still further across the field, a little way down toward the road, away from the bonfire, she saw that long trestle tables had been set up, and a small troop of people were carrying dishes and platters to the table, some filled with steaming, hot, breakfast foods, others overflowing with fruit, and cheese and pastries. There was coffee too. Even across the narrowing distance between her and the table, she could smell the aroma beginning to fill her senses, catalyzing her approach to full wakefulness, although she was bone weary and heart-sore, and although she was still on rocky ground with her emotions, she had made a decision: until she could make sense of everything that had happened that evening, she would keep her distance from Mister Gold.

“Miss Belle!”

The soft voice calling to her as though trying to attract her attention without waking anyone else, drew her towards one end of the table, where Paige was frantically waving her way.

“Paige,” she exclaimed, worry filling her, “Are you still here, still awake?”

Paige giggled, shaking her head and pointing down to the parking lot, and a large van parked there close to the gate. “I slept a little bit, and now I’m back. It’s my job to serve breakfast. Why don’t you get some while it’s still hot? Eggs and bacon is just not the same when it’s cold or luke warm.”

“No, you’re right. It really isn’t.” Belle said, eying the girl seriously in the dim, slow dawning light, to look for evidence of shadows beneath her eyes. They were there, of course, they always were, but not any more pronounced than usual. “Just a small plate then,” she said, as much to give the girl something to do as that she really wanted breakfast.

What she wanted was to go home, soak herself in a nice hot bath, fall into bed, and sleep until noon or later, that would do just as well. She doubted many businesses would be open the day after the festival, so she saw no reason why the library shouldn’t be the same.

She took the paper plate that Paige handed to her and smiled her thanks. It was not exactly piled high with food, but there was certainly more than she thought she could eat, at least, until she started. As soon as the first morsel passed her lips, her taste buds came to life, and reminded her, and her stomach, that she hadn’t eaten since long before dinner time the previous day.

“I watched you dancing. You looked very good, very pretty,” Paige said, “and I watched you standing with Mister Gold when they lit the bonfire and the fireworks went up.”

In spite of herself, Belle blushed.

“Jefferson dances very well,” she said in an attempt to steer Paige away from the subject of Mister Gold. “I wouldn’t have been half so good without his help.”

Paige made a face, and Belle raised an eyebrow in query. Paige looked away, biting her lip and mumbled, “My neighbor says he’s not all there.” She tapped her head. “Says I shouldn’t be around him and people like him.”

“Jefferson?” Belle asked in shock at the girl’s words. “No!” She took several deep breaths to calm herself, to push away the shock, and then, hardly any less irritably, “And what does it have to do with Miss Trude anyway?”

Paige shrugged. “She looks out for me… sometimes,” she said.

Belle sighed, and already feeling drenched with concern over Paige’s words, decided to jump in the pool with both feet.

“Paige,” she began, “can I ask you…? Is everything all right at home?”

“Of course it is,” Paige answered, just a little bit too quickly for Belle’s liking. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Belle held up a placating hand, watching Paige’s eyes go from startled to hard and defensive. “It’s all right, I just wondered. You talk so much about your neighbor, and I see her so often that I thought—”

“Well you thought wrong,” Paige cut her off. “Everything is fine.”

Belle nodded once, and with a sigh said, “All right,” even more convinced now that there was something going on that she didn’t know about. “Just… If you ever need help, you know that you can come to me, right?”

“I..” Paige began with a sigh, and looked down at her foot that was excavating a small hole in the dirt with the toe of her sneakers, “I know,” she said at last, “and I will.”

An awkward silence ensued, so Belle tried to eat a little more of the breakfast, almost choking on a piece of bacon when Paige asked, “What about you and Mister Gold. He’s so old. Are you really going to try and be with him?”

“Oh, Paige, no… I…”

“But that’s what people do when they stand by the bonfire together,” Paige said, as if either confused or dismayed.

“Well, no, we’re just—” she broke off. What were they to one another? They argued more than they ever had pleasant conversations.

“Friends?” Paige suggested.

“More like, acquaintances,” Belle said, “Do you know that word?”

“Yeah,” Paige said with a frown. “It’s like someone you know, right? But aren’t friends with yet?”

Belle smiled. “That’s right,” she said. “You can be polite together, do things together, but you don’t know one another very well. Well, that’s me and Mister Gold.”

“No,” Paige argued. “That’s not what the Miner’s Festival Bonfire is for!”

“Paige…”

“It’s more!”

Belle was struck to silence by the girl’s outburst. She didn’t understand it, and from the expression that came to Paige’s face as Belle’s silence stretched out, neither did she… not for a long time, until her gaze dropped and she mumbled an apology.

“I think, perhaps, we’ve both been awake for far too long,” she said softly. “And need to get some sleep.”

As if Belle’s words held some kind of magic, Paige yawned.

“Maybe,” she said in agreement.

Belle nodded, and handed the now empty breakfast plate to Paige, who tossed it into the trash can behind her. Then with shame coloring her voice, Paige asked, “Can I still come to help in the library, Miss Belle?”

Belle wished that the table wasn’t between them because in that moment she wanted nothing more than to wrap Paige up in a huge hug and reassure her that there was no ill will between them.

“Of course you can,” she said instead, with as much feeling as she could. “I look forward to the days when you come.” Paige smiled at that, just a little, and then Belle added, “Just promise me you won’t stay here too late. You need some proper rest.”

“I promise,” Paige said, and then waved with a fondness that set Belle’s heart lurching as she walked away, and down the path toward where she could get a cab to take her home.

Unfortunately, when she reached the parking lot, she could see no such thing, and even though she had her phone with her, she had no idea as to a number to dial to summon one. She stood staring down the road wondering how far it was to town, when a voice behind her startled her so much that she almost stumbled.

A strong, warm hand closed around her arm to steady her as a matching voice said, “Do you need a ride home?”

“Jefferson,” she identified the speaker, “You scared me half to death!”

“Sorry,” he said, “That wasn’t my intention. I just saw you leaving in a hurry, and I worried.”

“That’s very good of you,” she told him, looking up at the half smile on his face, “But I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he told her, “but still, the offer of a ride home still stands.”

“Oh, but I wouldn’t want to drag you away from the festivities,” she said, but Jefferson shook his head.

“Nothing for me here,” he said with a sigh and added almost absently, “Not yet anyways.”

Belle frowned, but he offered nothing more, and she was tired and overdone with mystery for one night.

“Then thank you,” she said. “That would be kind.”

She followed Jefferson to his car, and he saw her safely into the passenger seat before rounding the car to take the driver’s side. They drove in silence for a while, each apparently lost in their own thoughts, until Jefferson cleared his throat and said, “Don’t worry too much about the things that Gr— Paige said.”

Belle turned her head to look at him, but he was staring straight ahead, and she could have sworn that she saw moisture gathered in his eyes.

“I’m sure she was just… caught up in the tradition of everything and doesn’t realize that sometimes… thing change.”

“It’s all right,” Belle said still frowning and trying to take in Jefferson’s expression, but the hard line of his lips and the concentration furrowing his brow as he watched the road gave little away. “I was just… surprised, I suppose, by her vehemence, her passion.”

Jefferson barked a laugh, though Belle detected little humor in it. “You’d be surprised,” was all he said.

They lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive, until they pulled up outside of the library, and Jefferson got out to help her from the car.

“Thank you,” she said, “I don’t know how I would have gotten home if you hadn’t come along.”

He smiled. “Go and get some rest,” he said. “It will all look better in the morning.”

Belle frowned. “Does it look bad now?”

“Goodnight, Belle,” he said, by way of the only answer Belle realized she was going to get. With a sigh she made her way up to the library apartment, and even the act of climbing the stairs made her rethink the idea to take a hot bath.

To hell with it, she thought as she all but fell into bed. She could take a bath when she woke up.

It wasn’t long before sleep took her, and pulled her into dreams of castles and enchanted forests, and a strangely impish little man spinning at a wheel.

#rumbelle #cursed storybrooke au #slight au #UST #eventual smut #the library beneath the clock tower #The Bookshop on the Corner #i will always write jefferson

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robotnikfucker · 4 years

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10 Questions Tag Game

I’ve been tagged by @jimbotniks

Rules: Answer the 10 questions, ask a different 10 questions, and tag 10 people

(Small warning, I have ADHD and just took my meds so this is a little ramble-y and disjointed. I apologize, there is no way to fix this, my brain is just like that oops. For courtesy, I’ve put all the long stuff under the cut so you only have to read my monologue if you want to.)

1. What is your favorite genre of music? Why?

Probably indie-rock and indie punk. I like indie-rock largely because my favorite shows in my formative years were Chuck, Bones and a couple other “golden era” crime dramas that all featured a lot of indie-rock music in the background. Indie punk appeals to me because it’s just a good catharsis while also being pretty damn dance-able. Kiwi Jr and AJJ are both really good bands if you need to just let it all out while jamming to some bops.

2. What’s an art project you’ve made that you’re proud of?

I draw angels frequently, often depicting them as humanoid but still terrifying. This was an art theme that I’ve had going since before I was religious and I find that “angelic” imagery can sometimes leak into my other art so a lot of my favorite art is drawings of wings, gore, monsters and all kinds of Gothic themes. Right now, I have a watercolor of Virginia Madsen that I’m just in love with. I was always enchanted by her hypnotized stare in Candyman and I did my best to capture that. I even went out with my girlfriend to buy a gold gel pen so her tears would glitter. From theme to technical prowess, it’s my favorite painting right now and possibly my magnum opus. My previous best was a gore heavy, similarly angel themed, digital painting of Roger Wilco from the Space Quest games (weird special interests, I know.) I could go on about drawings I love for hours, so I’ll cut myself off here with the small post script that this is just my visual art and I also have poetry and prose that I feel similarly about.

3. Do you have a favorite album/podcast to put on in the background while you work or study?

It all really depends on my mood. My girlfriend shared a really relaxing Sovietwave playlist with me recently that I’ve been enjoying. I also listen to a lot of AJJ and Saint Motel, I don’t really think I could really pin down a specific album for either of them. The Candyman soundtrack works really well for study especially for my Gothic and Mystery class. I have a playlist titled Fuck Funk that’s specifically for writing fanfiction since I could never find a good playlist for writing smut when I needed it but I also use that playlist to work out since it’s mostly just a healthy mix of songs that I can jam to. I’ve never liked podcasts for study/work since I can’t really write and listen at the same time but I did make a podcast once for a professor that was a radio-play style parody of Scooby-Doo. I did all of the editing and I still listen back over it and pat myself on the back for turning 2 hours of raw improv into something that got us like a 98. A lot of my own music taste peaks through.

4. If you could become the protagonist/antagonist of any media franchise, which one would you pick and why?

Realistically, Animal Crossing because that’s the safest bet least likely to lead to my death. If we’re gonna get wild... probably BJ Blazkowicz from Wolfenstein so I could kick some N*zi ass or Conan Edogawa/Jimmy Kudo from Case Closed/Detective Conan so I could enjoy that sweet mid 90′s aesthetic.

5. Can you play any instruments? which ones?

I can, actually, I’ve played cello since I was 8 (I’m 18 now) although I’m a little rusty. I played piano and drums for a while and while I’m pretty useless when it comes to piano these days, I still maintain a pretty firm grip on my sense of time and rhythm thanks to the years I spent playing percussion. I played bari sax in middle and high school. I marched it for 3 years until I had a back injury but I was in jazz band all 4 years of high school so I was still playing. I was also in choir for a very long time and even spent my junior and senior years in an acapella Madrigal choir (I still have my costumes from both years) and even though it hasn’t been a whole year since I graduated, I still miss singing. I certainly don’t miss high school but I do miss that choir.

6. Do you collect anything? If so, what?

Not sure if this counts but I’ve been an achievement hunter/completionist since I played Ocarina of Time so I guess I “collect” video game achievements. I also collect lost things when I find them. I have an abandoned library card, two different gym membership cards, and a whole bunch of business cards. I have a small collection of lighters but that’s less about the joy of collecting and more about how often I burn incense. Aside from the usual stuffed animal collection that most people have from childhood, I don’t collect anything else.

7. How many songs are there in your music library?

This is kinda difficult for me to answer. I use Spotify and I don’t always download my music since I have unlimited data, but it currently says that I have 1070 “liked” songs which is likely a little conservative since I had to switch accounts last year and lost some of my music in the process. (This just got me thinkin, back in the iTunes era when songs were 99cents a pop I would have had to pay more than a thousand dollars for that kind of collection.)

8. If you could live anywhere in the world, and at any time in history, where and when would you choose?

So, by any time in history do you mean only the past or the future too? If future is an acceptable answer, I’m gonna say Star Trek. Like if Star Trek ever becomes vaguely reality, I’m going there. Even if the details are wrong, a career as a science officer on a space ship in a universe that isn’t constantly at war and is instead working towards peace and the pursuit of higher knowledge is perfect. If we’re only talking about the past, with no allowances for possible futures, then I think I’d want to live in the 80s in a metropolitan city like New York, Chicago, or Tokyo. Perhaps its misplaced nostalgia, but working as a secretary sounds nice. In the 80s you could still outright buy an apartment instead of renting it and it was actually semi-affordable (at least for the privileged) which as someone facing adulthood in the current economy, sounds like a dream come true. I guess I just want the simplicity and security of economy back then. Lookin for that yuppie life!

9. Have you ever performed live in front of an audience?

I have, several times. Although I’ve never been a headliner or anything I’ve played and sang at school concerts (even had a few solos) and my jazz band once performed for a dance hall full of people. I’ve never been paid unless you count getting a free CD but I’ve performed in front of quite a few live audiences.

Anyway, Jimbotnik didn’t write a tenth question so I guess I get an out. I’m sorry for my rambling answers, that’s just life. I’m gonna tag @jasminerobotnik @zoekrystall @rohotnik since y’all are my Sonic blog mutuals (like my header implies, I keep my main and this side blog separate for privacy’s sake) I’m also tagging @actsoflove @manicrobotnik @dusicielkusiciel @hamil-trash24 @lee-bunny @legally-immortal and @wutevrz

If you’re confused as to why I tagged you, I don’t have many mutuals so I picked followers who I’d seen some interaction from. You don’t have to play if you don’t want to and I’ll delete your tag if you’d prefer. As usual with these games, it’s also open to anyone who wants to get one of these started among their group so if you’re reading this post and wish you’d been tagged, that’s you.

My questions:

Do you wear glasses/contacts? If you wear glasses do you like how they look on you?

Do you have a playlist of music that’s just for when you’re sad? What are your favorite songs from it?

Is there a skill you consider yourself particularly good at?

If you’re the kind of person who uses a reusable water bottle, do you decorate it? If not, what is your favorite drink day to day?

Do you drink diet soda or can you not tolerate the taste?

Do you write fanfiction? What fandoms and genres? Do you share your fic with people you know in real life?

What’s your favorite scent? Do you often buy scented products like incense or candles?

Do you like scary movies? If so, what’s your favorite? If you don’t, what is your favorite genre of films?

What’s your go to movie snack when you’re watching in a theater? What about when you’re watching a movie at home?

What’s your favorite “medium” for art (sculpture, dance, music, painting, drawing, poetry etc.) and which one do you feel most adept at?

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wildwhiskey236 · 4 years

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Character Interview Tag

I was tagged by @albarnesauthor!

We will be interviewing my OC’s from my NaNo WIP Embracing Shadows. (A/N- I wanna do this a little differently than what I’ve done before, so it may get long but stick with me.)

Our five assholes sit in the laughably nondescript room, scowls immediately crossing their faces, protests on their lips at the description. The author reminds them of their current behavior in their story and all protests die on their lips, several of them muttering an agreement that yeah, maybe they were assholes.

1: What is your full name?

“Hector Greatsnarl.”

“Lauren Rosewing.”

“Lindsey Hallowedstrike.”

“Davy Evenflaw.”

“Natia Stoutblossom.”

Eyes turn to Natia, Hector and Lauren giving her a flat stare while Lindsey smirked, Davy commented, “We all know that isn’t your real name, no need to lie about it anymore.”

“Fine. My real name is Aster- but I prefer Natia.”

2: What does your full name mean?

“Well Aster means star and Natia means light, which is why I chose it.”

“Ever the romantic. Lindsey means from an island, which is appropriate I guess but I think my parents were trying to pick the least elven name possible.”

“I like your name. Davy means beloved.”

“Lauren is vaguely based off of a tree, Laurel.”

“Not surprising for a fairy. Hector means to hold fast.”

3: What are your other names/nicknames

“Most of us respond to ‘that asshole’.” Lindsey leaned back in his chair. “I call Davy my vhenan.“

“You have literally never called me that.”

“Maybe I should start. It means ‘my heart’ in elven.”

“No offense,” Lauren cut in, “But you two are about as far away from elven as I have ever seen.”

4: What’s your gender?

Everyone glanced at each other. Hector, Lindsey, and Davy were all men, built like the soldiers they were. Natia was lithe and strong like the assassin and hunter she was, but she still took hold of her own femininity. Lauren, ever the academic, was softer and had the gentler curves of someone who didn’t spend her life training and fighting with weapons.

5: What’s your sexuality?

“In case you didn’t pick it up, I am Not Straight (TM). Men, women, elf, dwarf, fairy, human, nymph- but I’m taken.” Lindsey said, casting a soft look to Davy.

“I’m gay.”

“I’ve never been interested in romance or sex. What the word for it? Asexual?Aromantic? Yeah, those are me.” Lauren offered up, somewhat satisfied that she finally got to say it.

“I’m straight.” Natia said, followed by Hector’s “Me too.”

6: Where are you from?

“I’m from the Highlands, just East of Provda and Ebarria. I’m here to study human and dwarven magical practices.” Lauren perked up before quieting herself and rambling.

“I’m from Ilseburry up north. It’s much better here in Provda.” Lindsey said.

“Natia and I are half-Provdan half-Ebarrian.” Hector offrered.

“But you grew up in Provda and I grew up in Ebarria. They are very different places.”

“I’m also half Provdan- my mother was an elf from the Highlands, but I’ve never been there.” Davy added.

7: How old are you?

“Go ahead Lauren. Tell them hold old you are.” Natia smirked, heat rising to the fairy’s face.

“Fairies mature slower than humans or elves. Just because I’m in my forties-”

“Really? I thought I was the oldest one at 28.” Davy signed in relief. Lindsey smirked.

“I’m 27.”

“I’m 25.” Hector said, eyes turning to Natia again, who had sunken down in her chair.

“I didn’t realize how old all of you were.” She muttered. “I’m only 23.”

“So Lauren, how’s the baby-sitting going?”

“I’m going to outlive all you humans and elves.”

8: What is your magic form/what species are you?

“Well, I’m a fairy with a natural affinity for magic.” Lauren restated.

“I’m elven. But not a stuffy, traditional, better-than-you elf. ” Lindsey’s pointed ears twitched.

“I’m half elven. The worst kind of elven apparently.” Davy commented, a slight bitter tone tracing his words.

“Better than us humans.” Natia offered, her own tone lighter and more playful as she glanced at Hector.

9: What does your human form look like?

“I take offense at that.” Lauren joked, her long brown hair curled over her shoulder, green eyes practically sparkling with humor.

Lindsey also snorted, his own blue eyes rolling at the question. Above his brow his straight blonde hair was slicked back as he ran a hand over it, stretching out in the chair. Davy sat still beside him, brown eyes and curly brown hair speaking for themselves, his slightly pointed nose giving him an impish, elvish effect, the tips of his smaller pointed ears just visible through the curls.

Hector also leaned back in his chair, his longer black hair curling around his neck, his deeply tanned skin and dark brown eyes speaking for themselves. Natia’s skin was darker, her long dark brown hair pulled back in a braid and lighter brown eyes watching me with an exasperated face that said, “Move on to the next questions already.”

10: What’s your aesthetic?

Natia fingered her daggers, exquisitely crafted from silver and decorated with obsidian, heavily enchanted and small diamonds inlaid to represent the gods she worshiped.

“Beaches with gold sand and dark blue water. We didn’t have beaches like that in Ilseburry.” Lindsey said wistfully, longing to be there instead of answering more questions.

“The forests at sunset, the dark green and golden pink skies.” Davy added quietly.

“I miss the flowers that grew in the Highlands, with blue petals and pink centers. They were really pretty.” Lauren picked at her dress of the same colors.

“I like when night turns into a red daybreak before a storm.” Hector said, giving no other explanation.

11: Who’s your best friend?

“Lindsey,”

“Davy,”

The two of them said together, Hector poutning. He wasn’t sure what he expected from them but he muttered, “Davy and Lindsey,” anyway, sad still that they were his best friends but he wasn’t theirs.

“My brother Zach.” Lauren said.

“...” Natia hestiated. “Probably Hector.”

The group glanced at each other and then at me, indicating that it was time to move and make a sharp change of subject.

12: Would you ever get a piercing/ tattoo?

“I’ve got a few piercings.” Natia indicated to her ears with several studs placed up an down her ears. “I was never into tattoos.”

“I’ve got a tattoo of my parents names in respect for them.” Hector indicated to his forearm where the two names were inked.

“I always thought it would be sexy if-” Lindsey started, but Davy cut him off.

“No. I said I wouldn’t do that.” Blood rushed to Davy’s face and ears.

13: When are you happiest?

“In the tavern with my friends.” Hector was the first to speak up.

“With Lindsey, after getting back from a hunt or scouting mission and just getting to eat or fall asleep together.” Lindsey looked at Davy again with soft eyes, nodding.

“When I finally perfect a spell or potion or enchantment, seeing my effort turn into something.” Lauren continued.

“I don’t feel like answering this question.” The others gave Natia a look. “Fine, bickering with you all, you assholes.”

They awed.

“The baby enjoys our company.”

14: What’s your biggest secret?

Everyone looked to Natia.

“I mean, it's not a secret anymore.” She started, sighing. “I was part of a group of assassins and my kill count is somewhere in the hundreds. I ran away, changed my name, and lied to everyone about it for two years. Anyone else got a secret?”

“My parents were killed by said assassins.” Hector said darkly.

“This is supposed to be a light-hearted interview not couples therapy. My biggest secret is that my father was King of Ilseburry.”

“You’re just now mentioning this?!” Davy gasped, a grin breaking across Lindsey’s face.

“No, I’m just a notorious trickster. Davy’s secret is that he gets very cranky when his socks get wet.”

“It’s an unpleasant feeling!”

“Back in the Highlands, I’m actually considered to not be very pretty according to fairy standards. I’ve never told anyone that.” Lauren casually dropped, the others once again glancing to each other. Somehow that seemed unbelievable but no one knew enough about fairies to object.

15: What was your first impression of your S/O?

“What a giant dork.” Davy muttered, earning a laugh from everyone but Lindsey, who looked away, slightly embarrassed. “He was trying to flirt with me and tripped over a tree root, falling face first into thistle bush.”

“Thanks, babe. Here I was going to say you were the exact image of what I thought an elf should be- graceful, good looking, and into nature shit, if not just a little short. Are we done here yet? We have people to kill now.”

Lindsey didn’t wait before getting up and leaving the room, Davy and Hector following after him, Lauren profusely apologizing as she left, closing the door behind her.

I started gathering my notes before- hey? Where did Natia go?

“Don’t move.” I heard the voice after I felt the press of a cool blade against my neck, Natia grabbing my hair to hold my head back and expose my neck better.

“This is a warning. You better finish this damn WIP and you better give them a good ending. If not I’ll reach through the computer screen and give you the worst writer’s block you’ve ever experienced.”

In an instant the knife was gone and I sucked in air, breathing heavy before turning around, Natia just gone.

I, uh, I’ve got work to do.

I’ll tag @weathershade, @crypticsx, @emdop, @milkyway-writes if any of you feel like doing one of these!

#character interview #writeblr #writing #embracing shadows #tagged #was this even interesting or a good idea #or was it dumb #probably both #this was really just an experiment of how many times I can use 'said' without using 'said'#sorry its so long

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doctor243 · 5 years

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The Girl Who Cried Wolf Chapter 4

Me trying my hardest to post regularly and on time. Here’s a longer chapter :) Kudos to you if you recognise where I got the idea for this chapter^^

Pairing: Peter X MJ

Summary: MJ tries to stop Peter from seeing her artistic side.

“No.”

“Oh come on, this is gonna be awesome!” Ned laughed, holding up a pamphlet. “Queesnborough Community College Art Show,” he read. “Listed artists: Michelle Jones.” At this he turned to MJ with a cunning smirk. “Yeah, we’re totally going.”

“No,” she repeated. “You’re not.”

“How’d you even get a spot at the art show anyways?” Peter asked through a mouthful of sandwich. “I thought they were only showcasing their own students.”

“I am one of their students,” MJ dropped casually. “I’ve been taking classes with them part time.” She popped another french fry into her mouth before turning the page on Goodnight Mister Tom, seemingly oblivious to the silence that had followed her announcement.

“WHAT?” Ned gushed.

“Oh we’re so going to this show,” Peter decided at the same time.

“How could we not have known?!”

“There’s no way you’re stopping us.”

“I mean we’re your best friends!”

“Even if I have to get Mr. Stark to cover my patrol that night…”

“I’m actually hurt that you didn’t tell us!”

“He might actually come too, if I told him.”

“I feel like we’ve failed as best friends for not knowing everything that happens in your life.”

MJ shut her book with a thud and looked up, effectively silencing them. “No,” she spoke. Such a simple word that held so much weight.

“Okay, okay,” Ned chortled. “We won’t go.”

“Oh, we’re totally going,” Peter argued. “In fact, we have to get the flashiest brightest suits we can find to pretend like we’re important art buyers-”

“Art collectors,” MJ supplied.

“-you know what I meant-”

“And art collectors don’t necessarily wear flashy loud suits to art shows.”

“Still gonna do it,” he grinned deviously.

“The art pieces aren’t even for sale,” she protested. “It’s just an exhibition to showcase the school’s students!”

“Still. Gonna. Do. It.” His grin did not drop.

The defeated sigh that followed made Peter’s grin widen at his victory. “I’m gonna be so embarrassed,” she muttered.

“Aunt May I know I said 8:00 on the dot but there was this car chase that I had to stop because there was a lady pushing her baby across the street and I only just got done dealing with the cops and Mr. Stark-”

“Pete,” his aunt interrupted. “Breathe. Do you want to meet me there? I can take a cab down.”

“Oh my heck Aunt May you’re the best I’m so sorry I love you.”

“I love you too, Peter,” she laughed, before hanging up and whistling down a cab.

Okay, he thought. Right down Park avenue, turn on 6th and head straight to Calmac, then turn left. C’mon c’mon c’mon!! He reached the dumpster where he had hidden his backpack, hastily snatched it up before swinging off into the night again. C’mon, you’re Spider-Man! Swing faster!

As he approached his destination, he could see Aunt May getting out of the yellow taxi. Immediately, he landed behind the shrubbery and hastened to changed, almost declaring war on his pants for not cooperating. First thing this weekend will be a discussion with Mr Stark about making changes between costume and civilian easier. Heckin’ pants.

“Aunt May!!” He called out, still struggling with his sneakers. “Over here!”

“Goodness Peter,” she giggled, turning around. “There’s no need to be that excited. We’ve still got…” she looked down at her watch. 9:20pm. “10 minutes left.”

“Yeah I’m really really sorry!” He took her hand and hurriedly led her inside.

“Oh wow, these kids are really good,” she marvelled, looking around.

“Mmhmm,” Peter replied distractedly. “Aha! There she is! MJ!”

A mess of beautiful curls whipped around to reveal a face that was filled with surprise. “Peter?” She almost whispered in surprise.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he finally stopped, looking up to catch his breath. “There was a huge thing with the police and a baby and-” he looked around. “Ah I’ll explain it to you another time.”

“You came,” she almost smiled, which made Peter grin as his stomach flopped against his rib cage.

“Of course we came!” He beamed. “We came to see amazing art!”

“We?” MJ suddenly looked confused.

“Hey MJ.”

She spun around again to see the tall redhead smiling at her warmly. “Aunt May,” She breathed. “You came too.”

“Of course, sweetie!” She smiled warmly. “This is important to you right?”

“Well…I mean…Um…” MJ struggled out a stutter.

“Oh hush,” May pulled her into a hug, and nobody, not even the seemingly apathetic MJ, could refuse an Aunt May Hug. “We’re all really proud of you. Now why don’t you start showing off to us?”

“Ok,” she mumbled, turning around, but Peter was already staring intently at her paintings.

“Holy crap you did oil paintings?!” He whistled. “This cannot be cheap.”

“Yeah I-”

“Dang, these are pretty amazing! Aunt May! Look, it’s Queens! You could see our apartment from here!”

“It’s not-”

“How did you get such detail with oils? I just make a messy blur and call it interpretive art.”

“You-”

“And this one’s Midtown! You even painted the school?? I thought you hated school!”

“I-”

May placed a gentle hand over Peter’s mouth. “Let the poor girl talk, you’re overwhelming her.”

Peter immediately blushed a deep red. He knew how he rambled when he got excited, but holy moly, he had no idea that MJ could paint, and paint so brilliantly at that. Looking at MJ, he noticed that the usually confident girl had a hard time looking him in the eye.

“Excuse me, sir, ma’am.”

They turned to see a staff member smiling at them. Possibly a student worker. Or a really really young professor. “The exhibition will be closing in 5 minutes. Can I help you with anything before we close?”

“Yeah!” Peter chirped. “Is purchase of these art pieces allowed?”

The staff member smiled again, warmly. “Purchase of the art pieces are between you and the artist,” she replied. “The purpose of this exhibition isn’t for the sale of art, but if the artist agrees, who are we to hinder their budding career?” Okay, so definitely a really really young professor then. A really really young professor who seemed really proud of MJ.

“Now, wait just a minut-”

“Aunt May! Can we buy one please?” Peter interrupted, eyes shining.

“Okay, Peter,” she smiled knowingly. She knew how much this meant to MJ, and how much it meant to Peter, but most of all, she knew how much MJ meant to Peter. Mum Instincts. “Just one though, ok?” She warned, as if allowing him to buy candy.

“Peter, you can’t,” MJ protested weakly. “These aren’t any good.”

“What’re you talking about?” He laughed. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best artist in this entire gallery!”

“I’m just a high school kid in a college exhibition,” she mumbled.

“And that’s what makes you amazing,” he replied, and he meant every word. Michelle Jones was an extraordinary person, and she didn’t need superpowers to get there. She just set her heart and mind to it, and she’d get there in a jiffy. Looking at the menu, his eyes settle on one and he knew. It was the New York Skyline while the sun was setting, and the streaks of gold, red, orange, and so many other colours burned his soul, and he loved it. It took him back to the previous week, and that little moment they had on her rooftop, where he resigned to love her with his whole heart, even if she never returned those feelings. “This one. I want this one. How much d’ya want for it, Ms Jones?” He teased.

“Nothing.”

He turned around, surprised, before being unexpectedly pulled into a hug, and as he hesitantly placed his arms around her, she whispered, “because I love you.”

He froze. No way. There’s no way. But before he could supply either question or answer, she’d pulled away and flicked him on the forehead.

“I’m kidding, loser,” she smirked. Oh, that wonderful terrible smirk that tore him apart and mended him back together again. “It’ll be 50 bucks. Do you have any idea how expensive oil paints are?”

“Yeah, I do,” he smiled shakily, although his heart was shattering all over again, and the pain in his chest threatened to double him over. “Good thing I asked Mr Stark for some cash before coming here.”

“In that case, it’ll be 70.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offence, but she’d already hopped forward and given May a big hug.

“I love you, Aunt May,” she said, distinctively more audibly.

“Aww honey!” cooed May. “I love you too!”

Peter smiled painfully. So it was that sort of love. The familial sort, where one never abandoned another. Not the sort of love he’d hoped, but a good sort anyways. How could he ever hope to capture the attention of a star? How could he wish to pocket that sun and make her his? He’d burn a whole in his hand and deprive the universe of her light. But today, he placed a smile on the sun’s face, and today, that was good enough.

Previous Chapter: Here

Next Chapter: Here

Masterlist: Here

Give me feedback and ideas! And hit me up on AO3!

Tags: @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @you-guys--are-losers @dej-okay @dctorstark @socially-ineptnerd @nerd-of-sorts @kage-e @goddess-of-silvers @awk0nduoma @gold165 @ryuity

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bitchesofostwick · 5 years

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writer’s questionnaire

tagged by @a-shakespearean-in-paris thank you!! :)

short stories, novels, or poems? i prefer writing short stories, tbh. i love my longfic but i’m writing it long because it’s a story that needs to be told start to finish, in it’s entirety. but i prefer (and believe i’m better at) writing shorter, briefer moments. you can do so much and tell so much in a small space when you put your mind to it.

what genre do you prefer reading? i hate saying this, but i haven’t read a book for fun since before college. literature was one component of my major, and assigned reading drained any desire i ever had to pick up a book. i miss it, and i’ll go back to them one day, but for now, i stick to fics only. in terms of genre there...damn, there’s a time and a place for smut and i do love to indulge in that from time to time, but i will lay my life down for hurt/comfort fics. i will die for them. like...catch me on any given night crying over a hurt/comfort story, i literally do it all the time.

what genre do you prefer writing? angst and hurt/comfort! i love fluff and i love happy endings but like...the realism of writing anger and angst and tension and heartbreak is so compelling to me. give your characters flaws. write scenes that hurt and make your heart ache. write conflicts. that’s how they learn and become better people, and that’s what makes all the fluff so much sweeter later on.

are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person? a planner! my longfic is well outlined, and all of my one shots are well thought out in advance.

what music do you listen to while writing? nooooooo music (as much as i usually love it). but i do write well with background noise, like having sports on TV or something.

fave books/movies? see the above comment about books (the last series i read was a song of ice and fire in high school lol). movies? i have so many, and a lot of them definitely influence my writing. all of the star wars episodes i-vi and the two spinoffs, sergio leone’s dollars trilogy (my love for westerns shows in my OCs’ constant need for revenge), atonement, gone with the wind, most tarantino movies (this shows in my OCs too tbh...beatrix kiddo? big emilia mood), goodfellas, hercules, mulan, the lion king, full metal jacket, never let me go, much ado about nothing, coco, both mamma mia movies, definitely many more that i just can’t think of but those are some Big Faves.

any current WIPs? yes! my ongoing longfic, A World Alone, as well as an art trade fic.

if someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be? a plain long-sleeved black dress with lacy tights, boots, and a flannel + my oversized denim jacket.

create a character description for yourself: tones of gold, and dark and brown eyes that let on more of her feelings than she thinks.

do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing? not directly, other than myself. otherwise, i’ll pull bits and pieces and traits from other people, but never their entire personalities.

are you kill-happy with characters? nooooo. i only have one non-canon death planned (and it’s a non-canon character anyway). otherwise, my OCs go through enough shit without me killing someone off.

coffee or tea while writing? tea! i tend to do most of my writing in the late morning and afternoon, which would be after i have my morning coffee or two.

slow or fast writer? slow. sure, i can write a 3k chapter in one sitting. but that “one sitting” is going to be a three- or four-hour ordeal.

where/who/what do you find inspiration from? myself and my own experiences, first and foremost. but i am also truly and genuinely inspired by other fic writers, both here on tumblr and fics i’ve stumbled upon on ao3.

if you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be? probably a bard! always collecting secrets and tales but still having that rogue-ish aspect.

most fave book cliche? least fave book cliche? i love LOVE fake relationships, mutual pining because they’re too shy/dumb to confess feelings, and caretaking (like one is sick/injured and the other cares for them). least favorites? love triangles, and equating “strong female character” with “emotionless female character who happens to be good at punching stuff.”

fave scenes to write? minimal dialogue/action scenes where the narration is based in one character’s thoughts, emotions, actions and observations.

most productive time of day for writing? late morning through late afternoon. any later and i tend to ramble a bit. i’ll READ fic late into the night, but i tend to stop writing after dinnertime if i can.

reason for writing? i used to love it and i’m trying to love it again (i’m mostly there, but you know). and because i’m so in love with my own OCs--and when you want something done right, you need to do it yourself!

phew! that was long haha. @dickeybbqpit @veridium-bye @fourletterepithet @gingerbreton @daydreamingdragonage @trvelyans

#tag game

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isa-ly · 3 years

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OH MY, WHAT’S THIS?

TW: mental health, therapy

Golly gosh, has she really gone and made yet another god damn blog? Yes. Yes she has.

Let me explain myself. I know this is probably like what, my tenth or eleventh online blog that I’ve made now? You would think that I would have a huge and dedicated reader base by the rate and ferocity I create these blogs with, but well, since I forget about every .tumblr.com and .wordpress.com after about a month or two, it comes to no surprise that these unattended digital corpse-pages don’t really have many readers. Should maybe give them a proper burial by hitting that delete button and letting them move on to the afterlife of 1′s and 0′s. But since I don’t even remember half the URLs I came up with, they’re probably just gonna keep peacefully existing in the graveyard that is the the forgotten blog section of the internet.

So. Why another one? Why add onto the pile of aesthetic yet virtually empty “personal” websites?

I’m just going to tell you what my therapist told me: “It seems like you have so many thoughts in your head, it probably feels like exploding.”

Don’t worry, I’m not saying that I’m Miss Big Juicy Brain and too smart for my own good – that’s not what my lovely therapist meant either. The reason she said that to me was because in our latest session, she had asked me to give her a quick rundown of what goes through my head whenever anything emotionally triggering happens to me. I had then proceeded to talk for twenty whole minutes (there go twenty whole bucks, thanks a lot, non-existing public mental healthcare system) about what happened in my old noggin whenever ~A Feeling~ occurred. And I described it in such excruciating detail that I think she stopped taking notes halfway through and just zoned out. Can’t blame ya, Kerstin, twenty minutes of incohesive rambling doesn’t really meet the expectation of a “quick rundown”. Sorry for that.

Anyway, we then proceeded to talk about overthinking, as we have done a million times before. And, as we have also done a million times before, we came to the conclusion that my inner monologue resembles a thirty-meter death-ride water slide, when it comes to the velocity and severity of how fast and far I tend to spiral with my own thoughts.

Now, don’t worry, by now I’ve been in therapy for long enough to know how to safely land back on the floor. However, I did agree with my therapist that my intense introspection does sometimes compromise me in my day to day life, as I will spend days on end in my own head rather than in the world that lies outside of it. That then usually leads to self-isolation and that, in return, leads to even more introspection. Hooray, to unhealthy processing mechanisms!

Alright, enough self-deprication. Basically, the conclusion I came to in that session, was that I’m pretty much the exact opposite of the “no thoughts, head empty” meme. For me, it’s more like “all thoughts, head explode”. And while I’ve been trying to get better at sharing face-to-face what’s going on in my head, I don’t always have the energy to text, call or meet friends and make my brain form words that my mouth then says out loud (which, I realize, is also known as talking).

I have made progress in that direction but ironically, these thought spirals tend to be the exact reason why I sometimes get into the bad mindset of thinking “Ugh, why even bother sharing? It’s already exhausting enough to just think it. Talking and explaining will be even harder.” And I know that that is not entirely true but listen, change comes in waves and you can’t battle all your inner demons at once. It is important to choose your battles accordingly to your strengths.

So, that is what I’m doing. I am choosing a battle by making a compromise. And making a blog.

God, how awfully millenial of me. What’s next? A TikTok account where I ironically document my panic attacks over the sounds of Jason Deulos’ ‘Savage Love’? (Hold on, just gonna note that idea down for later...)

Seriously, I realize that this has a certain bobo-esque, self-absorbed cringe vibe to it (did I really just say vibe, this is worse than I thought). However, I also care for and know myself well enough that I tend to downplay and ridicule the fact that I really do have a massive stick up my ass when it comes to talking about my emotions, my traumas and all those pesky, invasive thoughts. And that’s why Kerstin and me came up with the idea of me simply making a blog where I can dump all my thoughts whenever it feels like they are getting too much.

This is obviously not the first time that someone thought of jutting down what’s going through their head. I am self-aware enough to know that I didn’t invent the concept of writing about my life and inner turmoil. YouTubers and ex-Vine stars already did that before me, just look at the list of New York Times Bestselling Authors and you’ll see it for yourself. And if Gabbie Hannah can publish her own poetry book (never forget “Link ... in Bio”), I can damn well make another unknown blog where I share what seems to have gotten stuck somewhere on the way from my brain to my mouth.

Sorry, by the way, if nobody got those weird references. Whenever I’m not busy bashing my overthinking head against the metaphorical wall of fear of my sharing emotions, I spend most of my time watching drama channels explain why yet another book published by yet another unproportionally famous vlogger is yet again unsurprisingly shit. But that’s not the point of this first blog entry, so let’s let the money-hungry world of YouTubers performing figurative self-fellatio rest.

Bottom line: I need to get better at talking. To people other than my therapist, that is. Because frankly, if that poor woman has to listen to even more twenty minute rants of me dissecting my own broken psyche, she’s probably gonna quit her job and then I officially have no one left to chew through my issues with. And that would be quite unfortunate for everyone involved.

So, I want to practice. Try out the whole brain-to-mouth thing, but in a less confrontational way, by making it a brain-to-keyboard thing first. And not just that, I want to make an active effort in setting myself reminders that no matter how deep and lost I am in my own overthinking patterns, I can always put a stop to it and just spew it out onto virtual paper. To get it out of my system, manifest it into something more physical, read through it, recognize what’s lacking and what I need to change and lastly, editing it into something that makes more sense to me and also others.

In summary, this is kind of just me making my own “How To Talk About Emotions – For Dummies” guide. I expect no one to read all of what me and my sore yet hyperactive mind come up with, but I still gladly invite you to, should you care to see what that looks like. I apologize in advance though, I do tend to over-dramatize and under-estimate the way and amount I write about most things, including my own feelings.

But hey, maybe by writing this blog somewhat close to regularly, I’ll also figure out a way to talk about my emotions in a way that isn’t filled with unnecessarily smart-assy Big Dictionary Words and pop culture references barely anyone understands. Let’s hope for the best.

After it now took me exactly 1.291 words to explain what could have been explained in about two sentences, I’m finally gonna shut up. “Thank the Lord”, I hear you say. Or ... maybe that’s just my overthinker voice and fear of vulnerability that heard you say that? Kerstin would probably smile and nod proudly now. Gold star for me, yay. Just kidding, I never get any cool stickers for my achievements. Honestly, that whole therapy thing is way less fun than I thought it would be, I just want a stamp that says “Great job!” or “Super cool!” every now and then. Is that too much to ask? Okay, I think I see now what she meant when she said that I seem to secretly rely on the approval of others for personal successes so I can compensate the fact that I never give myself any credit for them.

Phew, that whole writing things down idea seems to already pay off. But okay, enough self-revelations for today. I have no idea how often I will actually write on here and even less of an idea what the topics will be. However, I will always include tags and trigger warnings, so that if there actually is someone who reads through it, they can know what each post is about.

So, yeah. That’s it for now. Brain-to-keyboard to you soon. (Get it, that’s my way of saying talk to you soon, because– okay, yeah, you got it. Right.)

P.S.: Yes, the name of the blog is a pun, let me live a little.

#about #introduction

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neoraven · 5 years

Text

NWA TNA Episode 1, June 19th 2002

17 years ago NWA TNA started the weekly PPV experiment. I went to every single one. Now I'm going to watch them for the first time since I was there.

(this review brought courtesy of Toby Keith and the red white and blue)

In 2002, I was a teenager set adrift by 9/11 and the alienation from starting high school. For better or worse, every week I started going to National Wrestling Alliance - Total Nonstop Action shows on Wednesday night. I loved WCW and was bitter about the botched invasion going on, and here was a new WCW in my backyard. It looks like there were 111 weekly PPVs, I'm not sure exactly how many taped ones / clip shows ended up happening, but I never missed one for injury, illness, or even vacation for the better part of two years. It was basically my ECW, for someone who was too young to follow ECW when it first aired.

I'm not really sure what the format of these is going to be. It's kind of a recap + live blog + review, I'll give matches the standard 0-5 star ratings with 1/4*'s possible, so it's really a 20 point scale. I'm going to hopefully figure out a better way to get screen captures going forward. Also, these first couple were taped in Alabama, not at the TNA Asylum in Nashville. Hopefully if my memory holds up, I'll be able to give some live notes and memories from being there for some of these. I have an old hard drive of pictures taken that I hope I can recover. I won the "Best Fan of the Night" and "Best Sign" contests a couple times to get to go backstage, and I also generally hung out before the shows and after the shows to talk to the wrestlers coming and going like a groupie. Later on, I was even on the TNA "Street Team" helping to market TNA and hand out flyers/ads during Smackdown tapings. I was also the moderator for the brief TNA Online Message Board, which I truly wish I had screencaps/archives somehow of all the…wildness there.

NWA TNA #1 June 19th 2002

Don West is the first person out of the gate, introducing Ed Ferrara after pyro and a brief introduction. Ed's all about TNA and introducing the girls dancing in cage as some sleazy music plays. Appropriately, he throws it to Mike Tenay, all business at ringside. TNA chants kick us off. Don West's hawaiian shirt is a thing of legend, and it's distracting me from Tenay's long explanation of the "Gauntlet For The Gold".

Jeremy Borash eventually is in ring announcing a parade of legends. Harley Race, Dory Funk, Jr, Jackie Fargo, Bullet Bob Armstrong, Corsica Joe & Sarah Lee, Bill Behrens, Ricky Steamboat. "All Our Base Are Belong To Us" shirt spotted in the stands. The Dragon compares the belt to every major championship in pro sports, the Stanley Cup, etc. He will special referee the finals of the match, and that brings out the one and only - Jeff Jarrett. His TNA theme "My World" is a lowkey banger that nevertheless completely haunted my life for 2 years. His big mouth earns him the first spot in the match. Ken Shamrock is here after that, and he joins Jarrett in burying the Battle Royal match. Finally, Scott Hall saunters through the crowd in a strip club(!!!) t-shirt as his awesome theme "Marvelous Me" plays. To round up, Ken Shamrock's theme wasn't great. "Hey Yo" sign spotted.

Goldylocks is backstage with Total Nonstop Action and the original midget killer "Puppet the Psycho Dwarf". Oh no. He's gonna spill some midget blood. Jeff Jarrett angrily kicks over a tiny music stand in the background hilariously. Then we go to the girls in cages and honest to goodness our first wrestling match -

6 Man Tag Team X Division Showcase AJ Styles, Low Ki, and Jerry Lynn vs The Flying Elvii (Sonny Siaki, Jimmy Yang, and Jorge Estrada)

An X Division showcase awaits. The legends surround a tiny monitor backstage. The generic faces' intro music is bland. The flying Elvii have a nice little knockoff theme at least. Siaki has Big The Rock Energy while the other two mug. The Elvii refuse handshakes and all hell breaks loose. Triple dropkicks and flying splashes to the outside. Styles reverses a back suplex into a phenomenal forearm, and I'm not going to attempt to catch every move. As an aside - Total Nonstop Action has taken a full 18 minutes on air before someone punched someone. Siaki and LowKi is a pretty appealing matchup. The former does a crisp Samoan Drop. Styles and Yang get in and have a very crisp, quick flurry of moves together. Jerry Lynn crushes a cradle Piledriver, and Siaki runs in and hits his neckbreaker finisher. LowKi accidentally brains AJ, and Yang capitalizes with the Yang Time for the pin. Considering who went on to hold the X Title, this is an odd result, but commentary was generally putting over how the mismatched team was going to compete in the X Title Round Robin coming up.

The Flying Elvii in 7 minutes, Yang Time pins AJ Styles **3/4

Midget Showcase Teo vs Hollywood

Hollywood starts it before the bell. From the promo, I thought this was a triple threat with Puppet. Hollywood kicks out of the "Tadpole Splash" from the top rope. Ed Ferrara says in response to Teo's claims to be a ladies' man - "He's the right height". Teo finishes Hollywood with an ugly swanton.

Teo in 3 minutes, Swanton?, 1/2*

Now West and Ferrara are in the ring hyping the Lingerie Battle Royal next week. The New Francine, Miss Joanie, Shannon (Daffney?), Alexis Laree (Mickie James!), The Incredible Sasha, Erin (Baltimore Cheerleader?), Elektra from ECW, Miss Taylor Vaughn, Darisa Da?? I didn't catch her name as Ed starts rambling about a kid in a candy store. Maybe I'll catch all the names if they're introduced with title cards next week. Francine grabs a mic and calls Ed "pudgy" and says none of the women compare to her. Elektra stands up to Francine and starts a catfight.

Goldylocks is in the back with Mortimer Plumtree. His character peaks with his name. He manages a tag team that bullied him in high school for reasons that are never explained. He leaves to walk "The Johnsons", Richard and Rod, to the ring.

Tag Team Match The Johnsons w/ Mortimer Plumtree vs Psychosis and James Storm

The latter is an odd pairing for a few reasons. I honestly didn't remember James Storm started off without Chris Harris and America' Most Wanted. He even has the prop guns firing blanks in the ring, which was always a nice touch. I feel like this is where I mention that the Johnsons are in full body suits and masks that make them look like walking penises. In other news, Psychosis is going without his trademark horned mask. Alicia from WCW is on the stage scouting the match. There's a fella in an XFL jersey in the stands. What year is it? "Buff your(sic) still the stuff" sign spotted. Ferrara "These Johnsons just look good". They hit simultaneous clutching suplexes to take control of the good guys, but Mortimer interferes to let one of the Johnsons hit their finisher on Cowboy. Post match, the ref pays off the lady watching the action.

The Johnsons in 4 minutes, Samoan Drop into Neckbreaker, *

Stan and Bo Dupp harass Goldylocks in the back until they run into the brothers' shared girlfriend in a quick nothing segment.

Borash introduces 1993 Rookie of the Year and Winston (yes, cigarettes) Cup Points Leader Sterling Martin. K-Krush is out to save us from the race car drivers. He's getting booed, but this would be a face promo anywhere other than Huntsville Alabama. K Krush "Damn you, and Damn Alabama" Brian Lawler is out to save the NASCAR dopes from the angry black man. He cuts an angry promo about "your kind" while the crowd howls in racist jeer. It's a pretty ugly segment considering "Grandmaster Sexay" Lawler is still clad in his Too Cool black rapper cosplay outfit.

Backstage, Jeff Jarrett is choking Jackie Fargo.

Tag Team Match Christian York & Joey Matthews vs The Dupps w/ Fluff Dupp

For better or worse, now I know their girlfriend/cousin's name now. After the crowd roared for the pasty white NASCAR duo, commentary is really going in on how these two wrestlers are completely fucking stupid and southern. The Dupps' intro is very boring twangy banjo crap, and they're not much better in the ring. Matthews hits a move called the Virginia Necktie that looks pretty nice. I think the non-Dupp team is working face, but it's hard to tell who the crowd is popping for. The Dupps win with some cheating and Fluff interference.

The Dupps in 4 minutes, Crotch shot, 1/2*

Before the Gauntlet For The Gold, we get a Toby Keith music video. He is singing "Angry American". Jeff Jarrett walks out and pushes Toby Keith off his little stupid stool and the crowd goes wild and honestly, I screamed in joy and Jeff Jarrett turned face for my money when he says "Nobody wants to hear that damn song, and take your Angry American Ass OUTTA HERE".

The Gauntlet For The Gold 20 Man Battle Royal for the NWA Heavyweight Championship Of The World

Buff Bagwell runs down for number 2 and the bell rings. Maybe it was for the main event finally starting but honestly the crowd goes pretty wild for Buff Bagwell laying hands on Double J. Buff hits a couple signature moves, but gets tossed before the next entrant. Ragin' Cajun Lash Laroux Is 3. He falls victim to The Stroke and is eliminated fast. "Somebody pissed in Jeff's Cheerio-s this morning!" Here comes Screamin' Norman Smiley at 4. The second largest pop of the night so far comes for the Big Wiggle. Jarrett tosses him anyways. Apolo comes down at 5, getting more offense than the previous entrants combined. K-Krush is 6. His signature axe kick gets tremendous boos, they hate him. Slash w/ James Mitchell is 7. Del Rios is 8. He is some kind of bodybuilder and it shows. Slash bites his way out of a belly to belly suplex as the announcers stress everything is legal. Justice is 9, I think this Is the future Abyss, but I can't swear to it. He hits a Black Hole Slam and now I'm 99% sure. Konnan is 10, yelling "Arriba La Raza" on his way to the ring. Abyss sells Konnan's facebuster a la HBK vs Hogan and I love it. 11 brings out Joel Gertner "I'm gonna be with 5 girls in Huntsville because I don't settle for less" He gives an X-rated introduction for the man they call Bruce of the Rainbow Express, led out by Lenny Lane. I'm not gonna bother listing all of the homophobic euphemisms the announce team runs through explaining who the Rainbow Express are. Rick Steiner is 12. He dumps Slash and Abyss with a couple impressive shows of strength. Malice is 13, dealing out chokeslams. Bruce, K-Krush, Del Rios, Konnan, and Steiner go out quickly thereafter. Scott Hall is 14. Toby Keith? is 15. He suplexes and tosses Jarrett. Not that anyone cares, but Toby Keith leaves through the middle rope to chase Jarrett and is never officially eliminated. 16 brings Wildcat Chris Harris. Vampire Warrior, former Gangrel, runs down seemingly early as an entrant with no music? The on screen countdown timer disappeared during the Toby Keith situation. Dangerous Devin Storm, aka Crowbar, is probably 18. Steve Corino comes in at 19, the only former NWA Champ. Ken Shamrock is out at 20. "Hall was framed" sign spotted. Brian Christopher/Lawler is number 20 and I realize now that Toby Keith was not an official entrant. Brian clears out Chris Harris, Vampire Warrior, and Crowbar mostly by holding the top rope down when they ran by. He dumps Corino shortly after. Christopher and Apolo get dumped by Malice next. Then the cameraman somehow misses Malice back body dropping Scott Hall over the top, leaving Malice vs Ken Shamrock to go to a pinfall or submission.

Malice vs Ken Shamrock, Special Referee Ricky The Dragon Steamboat

Malice gets some advice from Father James Mitchell at ringside. After going back and forth, Shamrock gets an awesome cross arm breaker reversal of a choke slam. After a long tease of tapping, he gets the rope, maybe with James Mitchell pushing it a little toward his client. A big boot leads into the Ankle Lock and Shamrock refuses to break it on the ropes, after even a 7 count, leading to heated words with Steamboat. Shamrock wins with a Belly to Belly to a big pop despite his heel tactics. Cue pyro, and hoisting the tiny gold belt.

Ken Shamrock wins a 5 minute match following a 33 minute battle royal, Belly to Belly. **

The match was a little too long, even with Jarrett speeding up the beginning by tossing the opening entrants as fast as possible. Speaking of Double J, he fights with legends and security backstage before emerging with a microphone. He punches the legends after moaning about the battle royal until Toby Keith and Jackie Fargo come back out to book Scott Hall vs Jeff Jarrett next week, the show ends with them brawling up the ramp.

That wraps up episode 1! They have some marquee singles matches next week in addition to crowning the first X Division champ, I'll see you then to wrap up the two first Alabama shows before settling into The Asylum.

#nwatna impact tnaasylum

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