#brianne draws things

[forsooth-verily]

Oh yeah, baby.

That's the good stuff right there.

Mmmm.

*saves close up photo of lizard face for reference*

[itzyecho]

Exuberant Masterpost

Written for a class back in my sophomore year of college, Exuberant found its way to my heart, and I decided to continue working on it, even after the semester ended!

PLOT:

When best friends Brianne and Gracie uncover a powerful relic that a dark being has corrupted, they find it transforming the once-benevolent world they have grown to love into a hellscape run by a powerful god. As Eliad’s dark reign spreads, the two are marked as threats to his rule. With their world’s fate in the balance, they must find a way to stop Eliad. Faced with an impossible choice, Brianne and Gracie must confront Eliad’s overwhelming power and their own fears, knowing their lives—and their friendship—may be the ultimate sacrifice.

:readmore:

CHARACTERS: (WIP/More will be added in time!)

Brianne (Bri): Brianne, or Bri, is a 15-year-old with a fiery personality and a strong sense of loyalty. She is protective, impulsive, and often finds herself in trouble, usually bringing her best friend Gracie along for the ride. Despite her recklessness, Bri remains deeply committed to making things right, no matter the cost.

Gracelyn (Gracie): Gracelyn, or Gracie, is the cautious and level-headed counterpart to her best friend Brianne. While Bri is outgoing and impulsive, Gracie prefers to stay in the background, often acting as the voice of reason. Her primary goal is to keep both of them out of trouble, though she often ends up reluctantly following Bri into risky situations.

Eliad: Eliad is a God with the power to see into the past, present, and future. He is the embodiment of fate—wild, unpredictable, and unwavering in his own methods. Eliad thrives on disorder, whether it is his own doing or the result of external forces, making him a formidable and dangerous entity who demands control and rarely tolerates dissent.

Ceecee: Ceecee is Eliad's 16-year-old right hand who he took under his wing when she was 12. She looks up to him greatly and is quite possibly the only mortal who has his respect. She's a bit of a smartass and, just like Eliad, has a bit of a swollen ego. Father-daughter bonds, amirite? XD

Connor: Coming soon!

(More characters coming soon!)

——————————————————————————————————

Art & Posts:

✨CHARACTER INTROS:

Meet Brianne Oakes!

Meet Gabriella Abbott!

Meet Eliad!

✨OTHER ART:

Eliad's Throne

Gabriella and Blaz (Speed Draw)

Eliad and Ceecee

[briebo-art]

Intro (+ Tag & Character directory)

Hi there! I'm Brie, a transfem artist and writer living in Aotearoa, and I like drawing anything related to my TTRPG characters, trans people, sci-fi, and fantasy stuff <3

Here are some examples!

my old online name was "BenjiBo", which i don't go by anymore, but, any art before the beginning of 2023 will have that as a signature as a heads up :)

The main tag I use for all my art is "#bri art", which should include only singular posts and none of the reblogs I use for bumping.

i use tags for posts with my ocs, but I'll keep all that info below the cut.

all my art now has tags for if a recurring character of mine pops up in case anyone wants to look through and find all the things ive done with em, so ive got a little directory here that ill use for keeping up with that

---

Maxine (She/Her) | tag "bri oc: maxine"

my original blorbo and first trans OC (if im not counting that one time i went feral over a headcanon with my elden ring character), she's gone through a bunch of name changes, which looked like Bridgette -> Brianne -> Maxine, so that's why my old art refers to her by a different name

currently planning a novella/short novel with her as the main character! chipping away at it in my free time :)

---

Anya (She/Her) | tag "bri oc: anya"

another transfem oc, and my first proper pathfinder character. I wrote a whole short story about her realizing she's trans that you can find somewhere on my profile or here (It was the first story I've ever managed to finish, and that shows I think, I can write a lot better now but it's still a cute little thing) her hair changes colors with her emotions because i think its a fun thing to draw

---

Belladonna, or Bel for short (She/They) | tag "bri oc: bel"

my tiefling ttrpg character, and, surprise! also trans. paired up with a friends OC, so there's a few quicker doodles i've done with them being gay. they're my high-femme OC who i put in all the outifts i'd like to wear, and one of my most favourite characters to draw. her tail emotes like a cats :)

---

that's all i have for now but i'll update this as i design and draw new characters, cheers

[renee-writer]

Loved Her First Chapter 86

AO3

“No daddy.” She rolls her eyes, “I don’t wish to court anyone.” A week after she entered the mystical realm of womanhood, he finds time to talk with her. They sit in her room. She is brushing out her curls, so like her mama’s. He sits on the chair beside her bed.

 

“A grand thing.” He has never hid his feelings from her, or any of his children, “as I am not ready for you to.”

 

“Daddy, why does it have to be this way? Just because I am now able to bare children,” this was a point her mama was careful to go over with her, “why do lads want to court me? I have plenty of time to bear children. Mama bore Caelan and myself very late in life.” She works her curls into a braid securing it with a ribbon.

 

He sighs. “I know. Lads, they, well, you are a beautiful lass and quite eligible, as my daughter. It makes lads eager to take you as their bride.”

 

“Mama says I must do more ladylike things now,” she pulls a face of disgust, “like sewing and cooking. It isn’t fair daddy. Caelen ‘s life hasn’t  changed and we are the same age.”

 

“My darling Ainslie, you have a certain role to fulfill as does your brother. I know it seems unfair but, you are becoming a lady now. Ladies are expected to do certain things and not others. The same as lads. Caelan will be spending more time with me, learning to be Laird someday. You will be spending more time with your mama, learning to be a wife and mother.”

 

“Oh daddy, you know I adore mama but I would rather be riding Dawn and inspecting fences with you.” Her face crumbles as tears fill her eyes.

 

From the moment of her birth, she had him wrapped around her finger. Her tears are a horror to him. He moves, drawing her into his arms. A compromise is in order.

 

“How’s this. You do as you need to learn to become a lady and then, on Saturdays you and I will take a long ride?”

 

She sniffles against his chest. “You promise?”

 

“Aye, I promise.”

 

“Alright, if I must.”

 

He lifts her head, thumbing away her tears. “You must. It might not be as bad as you think.”

 

“Probably much worse but I shall endure it, for Saturdays.”

 

“Good lass. Now, off to bed with you.” He stands and she climbs under the covers.

 

“A tale daddy.” Since they were weaned, he has tucked them into bed and told them a tale to help them drift off. Caelan has recently told him that he is to old for such. His baby girl, though, still requests them. He clings to the tradition, knowing it will also end.

 

“Aye, which one?”

 

“How you and mama meet?” She settles in to listen.

 

“We were running from the English. I had fell off my horse, injuring my shoulder. We were hiding out in a old cabin when Murtagh came in dragging the most beautiful lass I ever laid eyes on, dressed in what we all assumed, was a shift…”

 

 

“Anything you wish to ask me?” It is the morning of Finn’s wedding. Jeremiah is both proud of and terrified for his child. His child, now a man, insane.

 

Finn, looking so much like his mama, stands tall and assured, in his kilt. They have discussed this night and what to expect. Jeremiah is confident that he will be fine it is just… He has trouble seeing him as a man grown.

 

“No papa. I wish to thank you for all you have done. I know it isn’t  easy being both mama and papa. I heard people saying that they were surprised you didn’t give me to Auntie Faith and Uncle Ian for raising. Thank you for not doing that.”

 

Jeremiah blinks unexpected tears out of his eyes. He didn’t expect to be crying yet. Not until the end of the ceremony, but his son’s words touched his heart. “You are welcome son.” He hugs him, “I love you. I would have done nothing different.”

 

“We are old Jamie.” Claire says as they prepare for the wedding, “Having a grandson getting married.”

 

He laughs as he straightens his kilt. “Aye, but a blessing. We have lived to see this.”

 

The easy feeling grows a bit heavy as they both think of Brianna.

 

“She would be so proud.” She replies. He nods, blinking tears out of his eyes.

 

“Aye.”

 

The Fraser’s and Mackenzie ‘s enter the council house. Hope, Grace, and Mercy, join Germaine, Joanie, and Henri-Christian. When their grandparents enter, Ainslie and Calaen join them. They are stilled by the gravity of the situation. The adults stand across from the elders of Odina’s tribe.

 

A hush comes over the gathering as Finn enters from the west and Odina from the east. Odina’s  mother and Jeremiah step up and place the traditional blue blankets over them. Usually that would be his mama’s job but… The blue represents the sorrow and problems they experienced as single people.

 

Traditional prayers are said. The romance of it all has Ainslie tearing up when the priest recites, “ Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. No you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth for the other. Now there is no more loneliness. Now there is two persons but there is only one life before you. Go now to your dwelling, to enter into your life together. And may your days be good and long upon the earth.”

 

Jamie  approaches them, removing the blue blankets and covering them both with one large white one.

 

Odina gifts Finn a black and red belt, placing it in him, with a blush. They exchange other gifts, he presents her with bison meat and corn, she gifts him with tanned skins and blankets. They both show they can care for each other.

 

More blessings are said, a compilation of both their traditions. Jeremiah recites Protestant prayers over the couple. The priest offers Cherokee ones.

 

The couple are announced to be joined in matrimony. They laugh and kiss as their families lead them out. They will feast before being lead into the marriage hut to consummate their marriage.

[prvtocol]

@badtrigger ( Vaas ) : Tonight the estate has become ground zero for a wild Los Piratas party. If one spot of the home is not occupied by a Pirata, it's occupied by discarded drink cups, cigarette filters, or the occasional spent lace inhaler. The pool and hot tubs are claimed, as well as the fridge in the kitchen.

"heey," a buzzed Vaas draws over to the corpo with a huge Pirata in tow. "i want you to meet my friend. brenda, meet tiago," the president grabs both of their hands and tries to make them shake each other. Santiago corrects the awkward fumbling and keeps a firm but gentle grasp on the lady's hand. "Brianne," he corrects Vaas. He already knows much about her--more things than he probably cares to admit--thanks to her loudmouth extortionist. Santo doesn't smile, but instead offers a small acknowledging nod. The exchange is kept professional because he's no interest in elevating a victim of Los Piratas to friend status (even if it seems like Vaas has already foolishly done so.)

"ok that's enough, christ tiago. don't get handsy with her," Vaas quickly separates their hands like his sex life depends on it. "she wants to get high with me so we're gonna go do that now. c'mon corpy."

It’s nights like these when being a corp deserter sounds slightly more enticing then witnessing the entire house get trashed by a street gang from Heywood. On a safer scale, she might retreat to her mother’s empty investment flat in the center of Charter Hill for refuge, but somehow that feels like completely handing over the keys to Vaas — and she doesn’t want that.

The drunk leader indeed finds her; she figured he would when he got the need. Who he’s bringing in tow, however, garners her attention. Gosh he was large. As big as Clarence. A real enforcer of a man. Gaze only shifts from him to Vaas when she gets introduced as Brenda. Who in the bloody hell is Brenda? But before she knows it, her small hand is being forcibly entwined and engulfed by the large man’s, who immediately corrects his boss. It seems her name has been passed around. Here she thought she was just the “corpo bitch” or another expletive. Interesting. 

“Hello, Tiago.” Despite the stone face looking down on her, her own cordiality remains. A polite smile, a gentle shake — which is ended just as soon. Vaas’s possessiveness is ironically the least toxic trait of their relationship. She rather prefers it as such; not expected to entertain any others in the gang, just him.

“Nice to meet you,” she calls back with chin turned as she’s dragged by the hand down the hall and probably upstairs to her bedroom by her unlikely bedfellow. “So what’s his role in the gang?" An opportunity to gather information is taken, not for scheming but just to feel less in the dark about the company.

[artemisastrology]

♡ asks ♡

 Do you have freckles? yes all over my nose and most of cheeks

Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it? coffee usually and I take it with half and half. or an oat milk latte with hazelnut mm. love tea right now breathe easy and muellin tea

What was the last song you listened to? Tangerine by Zeppelin or POV by Ariana Grande

Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side? most of the time on my back but do flip around sometimes for cuddles or while im asleep i move around

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? no

Do you prefer drawing or writing? writing

What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with? 2-3

What’s your favorite band/artist? tough decision...SZA, Ariana, Harry Styles

When is your birthday? 322

How tall are you? 5′2

What color are your eyes? hazel (brown green)

Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now? brandon, nikki, jarod, jessica, brianne

Fears? many but i try not to think about them/give them energy. 

What’s your favorite color? right now red or dark blue/purple

What’s your favorite season? fall

Want any tattoos? What of? not really but its fun to think about, maybe a moth

Want any piercings? Where? i want a nose ring again on my left side

Who is the last person you texted? probably nikki

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends? jessica, over 10 yrs

What/who do you miss? friendship/sleepovers/feeling free. bri

How was your day today? good so far its 11am :) 

How much sleep did you get last night? about 8hours (11p-8am)

Do you believe in aliens? sure

When was the last time you cried? Why? yesterday watching brandon belt from the giants get called up video

What’s your favorite decade? 70′s

What are some seemingly childish things you like? stickers at in n out, nostalgic cartoons, video games, movies, pogo sticks, etc

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times? Eleanor & Park is great 

How are you, really? honestly for the first time in a long time, at peace

Does it take you a long time to make decisions? usually

What are you looking forward to in the near future? getting off work later

What are you looking forward to in the distant future? a trip with Brandon this year

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? kaui, hawaii

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? usually closed except when i want Dwight to sleep with me

What’s your favorite flower? hard to answer! sunflowers 

Do you currently have a squish? yes a black cat squish

Do you like your middle name? yes it is inherited

Do you prefer dogs or cats? cats!

Do you have any phobias? no

Do you stay up late? yes but i try not to 

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy? yes, sunny

What’s your favorite cartoon? Bob’s Burgers

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs too lazy

Do you have siblings? How many? yes twin and younger brother

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? Brandon

Is there anyone you would die for? yes any of my family 

What do you need when you’re sad? a hug

Have you memorized your phone number? yes

Who’s someone you can trust with your life? Brandon

What does your last text say? not sure 

[coastisclear]

while we’re on the topic of asian racism i’m gonna spill some of my traumas in the tags because why not😄

[valheri-a]

           SHE’S SITTING UPRIGHT WITH LEGS CROSSED, & it is about the only lick of graceful showmanship she’d ever display that’s neither feigned or forced.  it’s bone deep.  𝐕 balances the dominant leg with a palm & long pianist fingers draping over ankle.  ( she’s a standout in her shiny plastic trench lined with neon-colored fur & underneath that, a high-cut turtleneck exposing gold fashionware rimming a heavy chest & creating a weaponized, anachronistic appearance.  killer couture! )  a small daquiri collecting water from melting ice.  all the AESTHETIC of this place & the netrunner-solo could not draw one iota of inspiration from it.  partly because of the situation.

sets the other hand on top of the other to THINK COMFORTABLY, about what could be coming.  she’d had ‘premonitions’ before which screams strongly of intuition & at that moment miss landry snatches from thin air otherwise personal information, she’d thinks herself stupid for the feeling in the pit of her stomach & how it was almost always right.  which entity is truly keeping tabs?  arasaka corporation or just brianne corinne landry? it’s invasive.  privacy is a luxury, her only free luxury that she surrounds herself with on a daily basis —— more POIGNANT than the scent of her perfumed wrists is the solitude.  

𝐕 cannot identify what exactly it is that she feels in this moment.  denizens of the upper echelon float by her peripheral like jellyfish in the well-sized rooftop bar, a fraction of STRANGE PUPILS imagine them moving in a cloudlike meandering. a middle-aged businessman ushers a much younger, highly sculpted companion by the very naked back of her dress to one of the tables.  takes her coat & pulls the seat out.  people come & go, but atmospheric FOREIGN JAZZ music remains the only constant in this gold-plated realm.

something tells her there’s no benefit...but also no harm in her knowing.  so, she relaxes out her nerves.  the conversation is back to a MELLOW between two intellectuals.  brianne with another drink, & her with a melting one & precious few hours to leave the area.  to ween the nerves off & enjoy a bit of conversation.

❛ ——as invasive as you are, miss landry, ❜ she snips, finally reaching for the GLASS to stir the watered rim into the rest of slush with nail tip. 

❛ ‘d be naïve of me to expect any less from the director of oversight, ❜ with a sigh, sucks the SWEETENED flavored ice from finger,  ❛ one of the things i hate most of all is even entertainin’ the idea of adding emotion into the equation, the kinda’ work i do?  ‘s got no place for it.  as you well know... ❜

                                                 @prvtocol​​  -  continued from here.

[dullahaunt]

@prvtocol asked: ‘ are you my darling ? are you mine ? ’ (cheeky bri @ kron, main) the language of thorns sentence starters (accepting)

The day has gone away. The rain draws lines down the windows. There is the soft pitter-pattering, slow, gentle drips. A candle lingering about, remnants, vanilla warm. And on her nightstand, well-loved and slightly tatty, a novel sits recently touched, its story and chapters saved for another fading night. 

The air unit stirs, beginning to whisper. Brianne's eyes are a sleepy blue, and she smiles. "Are you my darling?" she asks, a croaky bedside whisper. "Are you mine?"  

There are things without answers. Like why he must be on the left side, and her, the right. Why she must pour a lifetime and a half into Wuthering Heights. Why she asks things she doesn't need to ask. 

"You know," he starts, then, "already." Emil doesn't flinch. His finger curls beneath his pillow. "...You just like to hear."

She's in danger of an imminent pout. He sees the start of a crinkling nose, her mouth curling, and–

"I am." 

And she laughs softly, partly amused at his audacity. Most likely, perhaps, unsatisfied. She settles back to pout, anyway. Hardly severe. 

"...I'm yours."

Rain pattering against the window. The blanket rustling. Brianne shimmies over, the sheets wrinkling, and kisses him, at last and sufficiently pleased. "That's better," she whispers.

The lamp on her nightstand glows a drowsy orange. She curls up against him, the rain falling, and he watches her sleep. 

[sherwynphilip]

BTS for Rolling Stone (May 14, 2021)

Story by Briann Hiatt, Photos by Jong Jang Hyun

BTS digital cover spotlight: J-Hope on growing up in the group, his next mixtape and more.

RollingStone: What were you thinking when you wrote "Outro: Ego"?

J-HOPE: It’s really about self-reflection, reflecting on who I am, my ego, as the name implies. It’s about the life of Jung Ho-seok [J-Hope’s real name] as an individual, and the life of J-Hope. And the conclusion that I draw from this inner reflection is that I believe in myself and I believe who I am, and this is my identity. And then these are the challenges that I have faced, and I’ll continue to face these challenges and do new things by relying on who I am.

RollingStone: In 2018, you released the mixtape Hope World, which was a major artistic achievement. What are your favorite memories of working on it?

J-HOPE: You know, looking back, I think it was really pure, innocent, and beautiful that I could do such music at those times. When I work on music right now, I have an opportunity to go back to those emotions and think, “Oh, those were the days.” I think it really has a good influence on my music that I work on now. Through the mixtape I learned a lot, and I think it really shaped the direction that I want to go in as an artist, as a musician. I’m really just grateful that so many people loved my mixtape. I am planning to keep on working on music and to try to show people a [style of] music unique to J-Hope.

The full article can be found HERE.

source: @rollingstone.com

[idreamofplaid]

A Longing for Home

Summary: The reader has made a home for herself, but it isn’t complete without Sam.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Dean

Word Count: 1641

A/N: It’s another fic from along the way on my journey as a writer. It’s Part 1 of a two parter.

Raindrops hit the window pane gently soothing your worn and bruised heart. You opened your sketchbook and took your favorite drawing pencil in your hand. The sound of the graphite scratching across the page was the only noise in the room. With each line, an image of Sam began to materialize. This was your own kind of art therapy. 

When you were done, the result was a good likeness. Anyone would recognize it as Sam, but you hadn’t been able to capture the warmth in his eyes the way you wanted. Who he had been was still perfectly clear in your mind. You still heard his voice whispering to you in the dark of a motel room in Nebraska, Indiana, or Tennessee. It had never mattered to you where you were as long as you were with him. That was when Sam had a soul.

He had no feelings for you anymore, you or anyone else. You’d reached your breaking point and told Dean you needed to get away. It was too hard for you to be around the man who looked so much like Sam but clearly wasn’t him. Your Sam would have never flirted with other women right in front of your face, not that you could even call it flirting. It was too calculated. What Sam did, he did with purpose. And that purpose was to...

You slammed the sketchbook closed and tossed it on the bed next to you. Rain was still hitting the roof in a steady rhythm that should have been calming. You closed your eyes and hugged yourself. The flannel of the shirt you were wearing was soft and warm to your touch. There was a time you had worn Sam’s shirts, and he’d smiled every time he saw you in one of them. Sometimes you’d worn them just to see his dimples, but this wasn’t one of Sam’s shirts.

You shook your head to clear away the memory and dropped your hands to your sides. You scooted across the bed and stood up taking a minute to stretch before heading to the small kitchen. This cabin had always been your refuge. Your aunt had brought you and your cousin, Brianne, here when you were little girls. It was your aunt who had raised you and taught you to draw. She’d also taught you how important it was to take care of yourself. Self care was her legacy to you, and you needed it now more than you ever had.

You wished Aunt Laura was here now to offer her advice or give you a shoulder to cry on. It had been nine years since the heart defect she’d been born with had taken her from you, eleven since Bri had gone to France to be a pastry chef. When her mother had passed on, Bri told you the cabin was all yours. You were, after all, the sentimental one.

It was that part of you that longed for a home. So, you’d made this cabin as cozy as you could and let it serve as the representation of that dream for you. You filled it with your favorite things. There were bookshelves overflowing with every kind of title to suit any of your moods and a big overstuffed chair where you could sit and read by the window. There was a soft wine colored throw draped over that chair that you could wrap around you when you felt the need to be held. The kitchen was stocked with every flavor of coffee and tea you liked best. In the cupboard, there was a supply of your favorite shortbread cookies to have with your warm beverage of choice.

Today, you decided some peppermint mocha coffee was what you needed. You poured some water into the coffee maker and put a filter in the chamber. You opened the bag of coffee and inhaled the rich scent, one of your favorite smells in the world. You emptied some out of the bag onto the filter without measuring. You never measured. The sound of the coffee brewing filled the tiny cabin. 

Steaming mug of coffee in hand, you positioned the pillows on the sofa just the way you wanted them and snuggled in with your throw over your lap. The first taste of chocolatey richness was warm and comforting. You picked up a favorite book from the end table with the hope of losing yourself in another world for awhile to take the edge off the pain you were feeling in your own. It wasn’t long before your eyes began to droop, and you lay your head down allowing memories of a better time to invade your dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing Sam smile gave you the same feeling you had on the night before Christmas when you were a little girl. It felt like being on the verge of something wonderful and not knowing exactly what it was, but having him here in the cabin, in this place that was so special to you gave you a very good idea of what that something wonderful was for you. It was Sam, being with him, having him as a part of your life. 

More and more, you were certain that you wanted him in your life forever. That’s why you’d brought him here. You wanted to let him into your past by opening up this part of you. You’d never brought anyone here. It was your refuge, and you were letting Sam in hoping he would want it to be his too. It was a new feeling for you, wanting to share yourself like this. 

You handed Sam a mug of the hot chocolate you’d made and sat down next to him on the sofa tucking your leg beneath you. Sam took a sip then gave a little shake of his head and almost smiled. “I don’t remember the last time I had hot chocolate.” 

“If you don’t like it, I can make coffee.” You pulled your leg from beneath you and started to sit up.

Sam reached out and put his hand on your thigh stopping you. “No, I do. It’s perfect.” 

He took another sip as if to prove his point. When he finished, this time his smile was big. For right now at least, Sam didn’t look like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His dimples softened his face taking away the hard edge that was there too often from carrying the burden of knowing too much.

Sam took your cup from you and put both mugs down then cupped your cheek in his hand. He brushed his lips softly over yours, barely touching them before he kissed you with such an intense and tender passion you saw your life flash before your eyes, not as it was but as it could be. You saw the way it could be with Sam in it and how you could show him a little of the normal he had never known. You could feel Sam’s hand resting just below your waist on your hip. It was warm, solid, and strong. 

He stopped kissing you to look in your eyes slipping his fingers up into your hair. When he kissed you again, it was even slower and more deliberate. Sam’s tongue pushed against your lips seeking entrance, and you let him in. He held you and kissed away every doubt you’d ever had that you could be happy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of your cell phone ringing pulled you from your dream. You rubbed a finger over your lower lip, the feel of Sam’s mouth on yours still so real. The phone kept ringing pulling you back to now. You pulled it from your pocket. It was Dean. You dragged your finger across the screen to answer it. 

Dean got right to the point. “I think I know how to get Sam’s soul back.” 

“Sam’s soul is in hell, Dean. In...Lucifer’s cage.” Your voice broke on the words. “It’s not like we can just walk in there and get it.”

“We can’t, but Death can.” Dean outlined his plan. He was going to have someone stop his heart so he could see Death and make a deal. It was a long shot, but it was the only one you had. “I want you to meet me at Bobby’s, Y/N.”

When you ended the call, you sat staring at the phone for several seconds before you moved. Hope stirred in your heart, fueled by the vision of Sam sitting next to you on that sofa with that same hope lighting his eyes. You could hear him saying, “Thank you for bringing me here.” It has eased his pain if only for a little while, helping him forget the apocalypse loomed. 

Your hand reached out to the empty place next to you remembering how he’d looked with the firelight reflected in his golden hazel eyes. You whispered the words you wished you’d said to him. “I love you, Sam.” You could feel the prickling of determined tears behind your eyes, and you spoke again to the emptiness. “I’m going to tell you. You’re going to know.” 

You walked back to the bed and picked up your sketchbook. You picked it up and looked at the likeness of Sam you had drawn. “You are going to know. This is going to be okay somehow, and I’m going to bring you back here. You will know something besides struggle and pain. I swear it.” 

You tore the picture from the pad, folded it, and put it in your pocket. Your rain jacket was hanging on a hook by the door. You put it on and pulled the hood over your head. Then you walked out into the storm. You were going to bring Sam back, bring him home to you.

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67​ @waywardbaby​ @atc74​ @ledzeppelinsbonzo​ @shaniquacynthia​ @mariekoukie6661​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @67-chevy-baby​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @terrarium-jpeg​ @emoryhemsworth​ @crashdevlin​ @heycasbutt​ @jules-1999​ @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @gh0stgurl​ @neveratease​ @becs-bunker​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @lonewolf471​ @sea040561​ @dawnie1988​ @maddiepants​ @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @iknowwheremytowelis​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @oldfreakything​ @triiitoo​

Sam/Jared Love: @girl-next-door-writes​ @stunudo​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @idabbleincrazy​ @evansrogerskitten​ @focusonspn​ @i-joined-social-media-finally​ @wingledsam​ @autumninavonlea​ @spnxbsessed​ @durinsbride​ @deansyahtzee​ @wendibird​ @fantasy-shadows​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @waywardnerd67​ @neii3n​ @fullmooner​ @supernatural-took-me-over​ @julesthequirky​

[heavenbarnes]

after brie’s most recent workout vid i really just need headcanons for eating her ass like holy fuck get that butt over here miss brie

miss brie knows how to throw that shit back x

-

i like to imagine it starts in the gym

the gym in the apartment building you both live in

and you’re watching her finish her set

and she’s squatting and all that

and her ass looks ready to bust OUT those leggings

and you actually cannot take your eyes off

and you can feel the heat between your thighs

and you don’t know how much longer you’re going to last

the final straw is the grunt she lets out with her next squat

makes that noise like she knows you want to fuck her raw

so you’re marching over

and she’s already smirking

baby girl knows she’s gonna get it

so you take her upstairs to the house and you’re forcing her into the shower

which she happily obliges with

stripping off her clothes as you walk her to the bathroom

and honestly? you’re so turned on that you leave your shorts and bra on

the tight fabric soaking wet and sticking to your body

you don’t care cause you’re here for one thing

so you turn her and push her against the wall

“keep your hands on the tiles, they move you get punished”

and she’s a good girl, fingers spread on the wall

you’re kneeling behind her, shower head in your hand

you move the water over her ass, watching the droplets fall down the crack

“you can move one hand, but only to spread this pretty ass for me”

and she’s a good girl, so she does

you use your hand on her other cheek

shower head still in your other hand

you angle the stream of water directly at her clit, listening to the sound of her moan

it doubles when your tongue first touches that tight ring of muscle

you flick against it, watching her back arch and her knees weaken

your tongue works in there, moving against it and just listening for the incredible sounds she makes

with the pressure from the water and the feeling of your tongue

she is crying your name and rolling her hips wildly

her hand against the wall starts to slip

but it strengthens when she hears a “UH” from behind her

you continue to use your tongue against her

loving the way she reacts to obediently to you

you know she’s getting close

you know this body like its your own

maybe because she’s told you so often that you own it

as she reaches that high she’s writing around

crying and bucking against you, desperate for any kind of friction

and you aren’t mean

you give her a good one

but you’re sure to see that hand leave the tiles and once she’s down

you’re drawing back and tutting disapprovingly

 “what did i say brianne?”

and she sucks in a breath, eyes falling to her hand that she quickly tries to replace

“too late, baby”

before she can speak, a hand is falling sharply across her right cheek 

“i think it’s only right if you make it up to me by returning the favor”

[the-jade-cross]

Knight of the Forest - Chapter VII

Lillia sighed in contentment as she sipped from the glass of cold water that Margaery had shoved into her hands directly after the blonde had left the dance floor. It would seem that Nanteza was in the mood for dancing and when she was in the mood, she would dance to her heart's content and had pulled Lillia into the mix. Lillia glared daggers at the shoes she was wearing. She had felt it was only proper to wear shoes to Margaery’s wedding banquet but now she wholeheartedly regretted it. She did rather like her dress which was a long sleeve, floor length swirly dress of pale blue with flower print and a simple sash.

“ I suppose that asking you for a dance would be the last thing you want to hear right now?” Ser Henri asked as he approached with a goblet of wine in his hand.

Lillia smiled as she worked to catch her breath, “I'm afraid so. I was not built to dance for hours like every other girl was.”

Henri smiled, “ not at all my lady. You were made to be strong when all other woman weep and scream in terror.”

Lillia felt a sense of pride at the man's words and smiled up at him but her eyes spied the one person she was trying to avoid: Loras. He stood talking to Maya about something that obviously had him nervously messing with the belt of his tunic, and action only Lillia knew. He looked so handsome in his grayish yellow tunic with his hair free and lacking his sword upon his hip which he almost always wore. The girl turned her eyes down to her glass of water and swirled liquid around in the glass. She needed to remember that Loras was not hers... and a part of her began to realize that he never had been hers. He had been able to live with the knowledge of Loras endeavors with the men because she knew it was just intercourse but with Cersei now in the mix, she knew that she had never experienced pain until now. She couldn't bear the thought of another woman touching Loras... Warming his bed after a long day, stroking his blonde curls... comforting him when he wanted to cry in peace.

She knew that those thoughts were the last thing that Cersei would ever do for Loras but the mere thought of the possibility tore through her heart. Ser Henri cleared his throat, drawing Lillia's attention to him and away from her empty glass of water.

“my lady, I want you to know that you do not have to pretend around me. I know of a love you possess for another man but you receive no love in return.” the man whispered gently.

Lillia's eyes widened and her cheeks pinked, “how did you find out?”

Henri smiled, “ I guessed at first... Ser Loras is the only man you seem to be nervous around... and of course I asked your friend lady Tyrell about it and she confirmed my suspicions.”

Lillia looked at the floor, letting her blonde curls flopping her face, “I am very sorry Henri... you know it seems like I have led you on… and…”

The tall man shook his head and taking the glass from Lillia, lifted her chin to look at her face, “I also led you on my lady. I know that to every other person, it would see that I am paying court to you when in truth, I have been but only because the one who owns my heart can never be mine.”

Lillia gaped in shock. She had not seen that coming. “Are you joking? Henri, every girl would give anything to be your wife! Have you tried speaking with the girl of your heart?”

Henri nodded, “Once or twice and it appeared that she returned my interest but she… she was forced to wed another man.”

Lillia felt her heart break all over again for Henri. He knew exactly what pain she was feeling! Who knew that a man as handsome and sweet as Ser Henri would have a broken heart!

“Oh Ser Henri!” Lillia whispered, touching his arm. “and the lady…”

She saw the man take a slow slip from his wine but the whole time his eyes were fixed upon the person of his affections across the courtyard . Lillia followed his trail of sight and gasped . There sat Sansa stark, beside her newly wedded husband Tyrion Lannister, the girl as pale as a ghost.

“I am truly sorry Ser Henri. Only the gods know that you deserve her entirely and you would have made her the happiest woman alive.”

Ser Henri nodded, “ so you see my lady... I do know your sorrow.”

Lillia felt tears pricked her eyes and she took Henri's large hand into her small freckled one, “the truth is, I was accepting your attentions now because I felt something for you but because I wanted to turn my sights on someone who could offer me companionship even if love never came. Perhaps... we can come to an arrangement?”

Henri looked curiously at the girl, “do tell my lady.”

“ we both love people we can never have. If we were to court with the intentions of a companion friendship based marriage in mind, we would both be able to live with the love we hold for another without shame and have No Fear of our spouse discriminating us. Should either of us fall for someone else or find our loves widowed or abandoned by their spouses, the two of us could conveniently annul our marriage and not think twice about it.”

“so you are suggesting a marriage of friendship for the sakes of people not discriminating are being single and to help us heal from our failed loves but we would be open to an annulment if seen fit by one or both of us? ” the knight clarified.

Lillia smiled and nodded, “ and if you should wish to change or add any terms, you may at any time. I would only ask one thing of you.”

“ and what is that?” was the next question that left the man's lips.

“that you will never give up on Sansa. This is a peculiar world we live in and Sansa has already been engaged once and it never happened. Margaery Tyrell is now married a second time ... for all we know, Sansa and Tyrion may another marriage at some point and I know that it would only do for you to wed the one you love.”

Henri smiled softly at the girl and gently took her hand in his, “ when I would only ask that you would do the same for the knight of your affections.”

Release side, “ it is simple for you because you are a man, thus able to ask a girl to wed you but I am the girl in this scenario , and I would have to wait for Loras to marry me and let's be honest, he holds as much affection for me as he does for his boots!”

Henri smirked and nodded behind the girl, “well don't look now but the man is headed this way.”

Lillia spun around to see Loras storming in their direction, face showing evidence fury before he grabbed Lillia's wrist and tucked her away from Henri.

“ excuse me but I need to speak with her for moment.” the man hissed at Henri.

Henri flashed the stunned Lillia a grin and gave her a thumbs up as Loras pulled her clear across the courtyard to the fruit table before releasing her period

“care to explain the origin of your foul temper? ” Lillia demanded of him

Loras turned on her and stood over her in such a way that made the girl quiver, “do you think your parents would be pleased with you flirting in public with a total stranger?”

Lillia scoffed, “ we weren't flirting and Henri is far from being a stranger. You are more of a stranger to me than he is!”

Loras growled before gripping her elbow with his hand and leaning close to her period “ stay away from that bastard!”

“or what ?” Lillia taunted him.

She saw in Loras is neck tense and anger before both their faces went lax when they realized just how close they were to each other. Loras his mouth parted and his tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. Lillia felt her heart stop as Loras is grey eyes slowly inched closer before she pushed back and began to fidget with her hair, unevidenced sign of anxiety. Loras frowned in puzzlement at why the girl pulled away when finally Lillia mumbled the very words he hated .

“ I am being courted by another man... and you... are engaged to be married.” she muttered.

Loras clenched his fists and was about to spout curses when Maya appeared out of thin air and grinned at them.

“there you two are! I've been looking for you Lillia, Loras told me to give this to you.” the redhead stated, holding out a purple carnation.

Lillia looked at the flower then at Loras and then to the dozen pots of purple carnations that were laid out for the banquet. The girl rolled her eyes and stormed off without another word.

“well that went well ,” Maya mumbled.

Loras shot his sister a death glare. “I hate you so much right now.”

*********

Lillia stumbled as she struggled to keep up with Jaime. She could not tell if he was walking away like a man in a fury or like a man fleeing the truth. All she knew was that his broad back was getting further away and it was thanks to her shoes hindering her movement that she was losing him. Kicking off the blasted shoes and scooping the front of her grayish pink dress into her arms, she scurried after the Kingslayer at a quicker pace. When Jaime finally halted they were standing on the balcony overlooking the empty garden, everyone else still at the trail, whispering and mumbling to themselves about the mysterious intervention of the warlock and Maya in the trial by combat.

"Sir Jaime," the girl painted but could not get anything else out before the tall man turned on her with eyes blazing with fury, fear and pain.

"You lied… You all lied… You knew that she was alive and you lead me to believe she was dead… And Brianne…" He mumbled.

"Brianne did not lie to you Jaime," Lillia intervened, "she said that the warlock was not Evelyn Stark or Evelyn Lannister which is true. From the moment she married you, Evelyn was no longer Evelyn Stark and the second she ran away from here for her life, she forfeited her claim of being a Lannister."

Jaime ran his fingers through his short blond hair and for the first time in her life, Lillia saw the man's lip tremble and his eyes filled with tears. "But why make me believe that she was dead?" He whispered.

Lillia shook her head, "she did it to protect you and herself. If people thought she was dead they would not try to assassinate her again and if you believe that she was dead, then you would not try to wage war on the person behind her departure, thus keeping you from getting yourself killed."

Jaime snapped his eyes over to the blonde, "it was Cersei wasn't it? The warlock threatened Cersei when she rescued me from the Boltons. … Did Evelyn truly trust me so little to not trust me to confront my sister?"

"on what grounds?" Lillia inquired, "if you confronted Cersei about your suspicions of her threatening Evelyn's life, she would know that Evelyn was alive and was the source of your information. But besides that, look at what your father and sister are doing to Tyrion and without proof! You may be closer to them than Tyrion is but since you married Evelyn, you are not a total ally in their eyes."

Jaime clinched his fist and tapped the balcony rail with his golden hand, "Evelyn is like you… And Maya Tyrell… She is gifted?"

Lillia nodded and hung her head, "it is how we have communicated with her up to this point."

"Don't tell me… She spouts fire," Jaime stated sarcastically but when he saw the earnest look in Lillia's eyes, he froze, "you're serious?"

Lillia nodded and the man groaned, “ do you know where she is? How can I see her? I need to see her for myself.”

Lillia shook her head, “we don't know where everyone ever is. She keeps that from us. When she communicates with us, we cannot see her surroundings. And she won't be here for long period she said she was leaving directly after the trial ... The only time when you can see Evelyn is when she means for you to find her .”

The girl muttered an apology before she left the man to think, missing the tears that finally began to trickle down his face. Meanwhile Loras had strode up to where his father sat at the high seat overlooking the trial and asked him for a word. When the two men were out of earshot of everyone else, Loras turned his father with a determined vibe.

“ I demand you rescind my marriage to Cersei Lannister ,” he stated.

Mace Tyrell scoffed , “has your older sisters madness spread to you as well? I do not have time for this Loras! After her intervention in the trial and her opposition to the Mountain, marrying Maya off will be twice as hard. Not only that but Margaery is no doubt due to wed Prince Thomas who will replace his brother as King.”

“do you really want to tangle with the Lannister’s more than having Margaery wed their King? I will not wed Cersei Lannister.”

“if you wanted a young, spry lass you should have been working on that rather than laying around with men.” his father snapped .

Loras was seething now and his hand on his sword tightened until his knuckles went white , “ I have a bargain for you father . If I find a man to marry Maya in the next two weeks , will you allow me the marriage of my choice?”

Mace studied his youngest son skeptically, “ it will be an impossible feat . Half the eligible men here think that your sister is a freak or they're scared of her period the other half want a marriage alliance and the power she has. How can you be sure you can find her husband in two weeks ?”

Loras smirked, “ I happened to not to be blind and I know of a man who would leap at the chance to marry her and not tried overthrow us or to harness maya's powers. Not only that but an alliance with his family would be beneficial .”

Mace sighed , “very well. Get her engaged and all the way to the altar within two weeks and I will lead you to the woman of your choice.”

As he watched his father wander off, Loras smirked in pride at his quick intervention and well planned scheme period now both he and Maya would be happy, married and out of their mad father's reach. The young man strode back toward the trial until he found the man he was looking for and approached him from behind like a Panther stalking his prey. tapping the man on the shoulder, Loras beamed at the man when the target turned in his direction.

“ if you would be interested, I have a bargain for you that I think you will like,: he stated, not failing to notice the way the man's eyes narrowed at this statement.

“and how can you be sure I will like it?” was the question of the hour period

Loras grinned, “it has to do with the marriage of my sister, Maya. My father has tasked me with finding her a suitable husband within two weeks since my sister Margaery will be married to the new King very soon. He will not allow Maya an elaborate wedding since he prefers to spoil Margaery but I have a feeling but once you hear my idea, you may be able to sway his perspective.”

Oberyn Martell’s brown eyes lit in intrigue, “I am listening.”

[anotheruserwithnoname]

Five years since meeting Jenna Coleman

Today (Sept. 26) marks the 5th anniversary of the broadcast of Series 9′s The Witch’s Familiar, but for me it’s an even more special anniversary as it is also the 5th anniversary of me getting to meet Jenna Coleman at the Edmonton Expo.

I drove the 3 hours from Calgary to Edmonton early in the morning and of course hours more lining up followed once I got there! Jenna was, sadly, a bit late (not too bad compared to others and not necessarily her fault). But when she finally arrived, I remember how tiny she looked. But she was all smiles, of course! After the Abbey Road Dalek photo shoot, Jenna went on a bit of a promotional/convention tour for the next week or so that also included convention stops in the US and an appearance on Conan O’Brien’s show. And she mentioned to someone at the con that she was about to go into preproduction for Victoria (which started filming about a month later).

I got a photo signed, of course! And during my 30 seconds had a nice little chat. I LOVED how she said my name with that Blackpool accent of hers. The main thing we talked about was the Abbey Road Dalek photo shoot from exactly one week before. She apparently wasn’t aware that a behind-the-scenes video had been circulated by the BBC, or that a webcam down the street had captured the action too. She said she’d have to check them out.

And with that it was time to let someone else meet Jenna. Sadly, I was too shy to have ordered a photo op, and I had to be back in Calgary that night so going to her panel the next day (Sunday) didn’t happen, and I regret missing out on both. But it was fun. That same convention had a few other performers I got to meet, though the only other one I got an autograph from that trip was Natalia Tena of Harry Potter and Game of Thrones fame. I’m surprised I didn’t get more that trip; looking back, though, I know one reason I didn’t get more was I was soon to go on vacation and I didn’t want to blow the budget. Indeed, I watched “Before the Flood” in a hotel room in Vancouver, B.C.

By the way, I only found out that Jenna was appearing at the Edmonton Expo on the Thursday before the convention, so this was definitely a fast turnaround! But a good memory.

I eventually got to meet Peter Capaldi in Calgary in 2017, and for anyone who cares, other Who-related convention meets (and autographs) for me have been Karen Gillan (2014; saw Matt Smith but an organizational snafu with how “top-draw” photos were being sold that year prevented me from getting a pic signed), John Barrowman (2016), Billie Piper (2016), Mark Sheppard aka Canton Delaware III (2016), Catherine Tate (2019). I was also set up to get an autograph from Alex Kingston at I think the 2016 Edmonton Expo but she had to cancel at the last minute due to a passport issue (not telling tales out of school, this was announced). Sadly, the year Sylvester McCoy came to Calgary I was unable to go due to family matters.

There are more important things that I’d like to see get back to normal once the current insanity ends. But these conventions are highlights for me - things to look forward to - and while, sure, it’s cool to tune in for an online Q&A and see what Jenna’s living room looks like and you can still order the autographs, it’s not the same as actually being able to say you had a chat with John Rhys-Davies about your career, or watching Gwendoline Christie give a critique of the Brianne of Tarth cosplay the person in line in front of you wore. Or seeing Barrowman go ga-ga over someone’s baby. Or overhearing Malcolm McDowell talking to the person in line ahead of you about the rare Clockwork Orange soundtrack LP he’d just signed. Or shaking hands with Peter Mayhew. Or seeing Karen play peek-a-boo with Matt through the curtains.

I could list many more examples of this that you just don’t get from online. One of my favourites is Liz Vassey, who was a CSI cast member but is also well remembered as Captain Liberty in the first live-action version of The Tick, remarking that I looked like an old boyfriend of her’s! Hopefully that was meant as a compliment!

[forfuchssake]

Batbear to the Rescue || Bri & Morgan

TIMING: Present PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems & @honeybugbearbri SUMMARY: A hunter tries to capture and kill Morgan and Bri comes to the rescue. 

Bri found it funny the way hunters worked. Always so concentrated on their prey that they forgot how quickly they themselves could become the prey. She’d been watching Jack for a few days now, ever since she saw him stake a vampire outside Nightshade. That simply wouldn’t do. It was easy enough to keep somewhat on his trail, get a feel of his routine, and slightly play with his reality. Men like that, they never dreamed that they could be on the other side of it all. They thought they were the biggest predators out there and their own ego would be their downfall. He was in her forest now, her domain, stalking after some girl who seemed to be hunting a rabbit. Brianne knew she must have been some sort of undead, but that mattered little. The priority was turning this hunter into her own trophy. She lurked quietly behind the trees, waiting for him to spring into action.

Morgan was reluctant to call Remmy the moment she felt herself coming a little too unglued. They had only just started talking again, and this wasn’t a disaster of a day. This was just a time when the nothing of the world around her grated, when she felt the pull of the death-pit inside her a little harder than she had the last few days. And dammit, she didn’t want to go straight back into bed, or worse, the floor. Remmy said to keep trying. So, while Deirdre was out, Morgan returned to the woods. She was hoping to practice the lessons Ulfric had given her, but the smell of death was distracting her. It was just the right kind, she could tell by spotting it in the distance. Not too fresh, not too rotted. Morgan turned her attention away from her live prey and towards another. She didn’t even have to be quiet. Morgan leapt--and felt a stiff wire around her neck, yanking her onto her back. Morgan scrambled, kicking her feet uselessly at the grass. She didn’t even think about calling for help. Who would hear her? Who even knew where she was? Morgan tugged at the wire, her fingers slipping on the smooth cording, scrambling for purchase. She pawed back, searching for the rest of the lasso. The person on the other end tugged, dragging her across the ground. Morgan tilted her head back, eyes pinballing through the woods in panic. She couldn’t see anything. Just a shadow. A no one shadow.

“Don’t fight,” they said. “You’re only gonna make this harder on yourself.”

Morgan squeaked, grunted mutely. The cord was digging too deep into her neck for her to speak.

Any suspicions she had that Jack had been on the hunt were confirmed when Bri saw him attack. As he sprung to capture the woman with some sort of cord, her body shifted and Bri felt herself become larger than life. With a roar, she leapt for the distracted hunter, claws tearing into his sides. The pitiful little yelp that came out of his mouth was music to her ears. The bear looked him straight in the eye, loving how palpable the fear radiating off of him was. His grip on the wire he was using to trap the undead woman loosened and fell from his hands. A quick paw swiped it away from him, leaving gashes in his hand, as he tried to reach for it again. With a booming roar, Bri lowered her now bear shaped head right into his face. The fear coming off of him was delicious. The righteous poetic justice of watching the wretched man realize he had become her prey. If bears could smile, her grin would be wide as she could smell the stink of urine on him. Jack really was quite easily frightened. Seemed surprising giving his occupation, but when faced with the reality of death, they were all the same. As he whimpered, she slashed her claws into his throat and watched the blood pool into the grass beneath him. Confident he was dead, the bear backed away from the hunter’s body. Jack was effectively dead and she contemplated finishing off a bottle of Jack Daniels. She could place his teeth and smaller bones inside once she finished. It’d make a great centerpiece. A true bottle of Jack. Sensing the girl’s eyes on her, she focused on shifting back to her now nude human form. She quizzically looked the other woman over. “Are you hurt?”

Morgan felt the cord loosen first. Whimpering like a frightened animal, she tugged and clawed at it wildly until she could get it over her head and as far away from her as she could throw it. It was a fucking metal lasso, like the kind they used in zoos for the big cats. Morgan touched her throat, grimacing with a horror she hadn’t felt before. Her stomach tightened. Fuck, was she going to be sick? She backed away. She couldn’t remember where the dead rabbit was, which way she’d come from, where she’d put her phone in her pocket. She fumbled to pat herself as she backed away, but her hands were shaking too much to dig through anything. When she heard a strange voice, she cried out, backing further away. This was--not the scary murderer in the woods. Mostly because the scary murderer, and his stakes and sword were on the ground. So-- “Who are you?” Wait. She’d asked her a question first. Right? “U-uh…” It was a little hard to speak. “I’m fine. I’m...not hurt. I can’t...really get hurt anymore. Mostly.” But it was hard drawing enough air in to speak. Her throat ached. “Where did you come from?”

Bri looked at her with narrow, quizzical eyes. It was clear she was in pain, but she supposed it would heal quickly considering what she was. Her questions were valid, it wasn’t every day a bear came out of the woodwork and killed an undead hunter before your eyes. Catching wind of these guys was rare for her. Most of her collection had been werewolf hunters, but she always believed variety to be a virtue. Plus, now the woman before her could go about her way and hopefully stir fear in those around her. As she answered, Bri crossed her arms over her bare chest and answered, “I’m Bri. I live closeby. I do these woods a service and keep them as hunter free as I’m able.” Looking her over, it was clear she was going to be okay. The undead had a way of healing quickly. “I’m glad you’re okay. A hunter victory is a loss for all of us.” With a slightly sinister grin, she said, “Why? Did I startle you?” With a gesture over to a cluster of trees, she answered, “From over there. I’ve been trying to keep tabs on this one since I saw him stake a vampire outside of Nightshade. He wasn’t quite so brave in the face of fear itself it seems.”

Bri was taking all of this very weirdly in stride for Morgan. Just standing naked in the woods and talking about the woods and asking questions like why and what’s up. Just another day in the life of...whatever she was. Morgan didn’t know where to put her eyes. Looking at the person talking to you good, gawking at naked women, bad. No winning here, and Morgan’s brain was still frazzled from how suddenly the world had literally fallen out from under her, how quickly she could’ve been chopped or caged away from the life she was just barely getting a grip on. Morgan risked a look down at the body. Not much of a looker anymore, but he didn’t seem familiar. “I don’t think I even know that guy,” she said faintly. “How does that even work? When did he meet me?” What did hunters like him do? Prowl the woods for zombies looking for dead critters? Because that was super threatening. “H-hunter victory,” she repeated. “That’s...that’s a thing. The thing that almost but didn’t happen. Right. Um...no, not startled, exactly, I think that started somewhere around the wire noose in the middle of what I really thought were deserted woods.” She swallowed, touching her throat again. Then risked an awkward ‘promise I’m not a creepy lesbian staring at you naked’ look in her general direction. “Thank you. For saving me. That was...I mean, you don’t even know me. And, um, sorry, my brain is lagging with the sudden near second-death--I’m assuming you know, somehow, I’m already kind of dead, and if not, weeeell--um, but: what is Nightshade? And can I--get you anything. Do anything or...whatever, for the random rescue favor? Do you do this a lot or something?”

Nudity was no stranger to Brianne. It was never something she really thought much of until seeing more of the human world. For bugbears and she had to imagine for other shifters, being naked was not something that was inherently sexual. It was just a natural state, the most natural if you were constantly shifting between bear and human forms. Her short stints of socializing did help her learn most others were uncomfortable with nakedness, whether it be their own or the nakedness of others. “You can look at me,” she remarked, “I was just a bear, societal norms mean little to me.” Bri supposed if she was still uncomfortable, that was her own deal. As expected, she had a lot of questions. “It’s hard to tell if he had been previously tracking you or not. I had been tracking him which was quite easy. He was overconfident.” She looked down to Jack, he looked like a work of art the way he was mangled on the grass. If she could paint, she’d paint Jack as he was right now. Her shoulders shrugged as she looked back to the undead woman, “I gathered as much. I presume undead seeing as dear Jack here was after you.” She listened momentarily as the other woman seemed to gather her bearings and asked more questions. It was understandable, some lesser man had just tried to turn her into prey with a cowardly metal lasso. With narrow eyes studying her, she answered, “Nightshade is the farmer’s market in town. It’s a nighttime market that’s open on Friday’s. I’m a beekeeper, I have a stand there called Honey Bri. You don’t owe me anything, I take joy in bringing hunters to justice. I’m Bri, a bugbear if you were curious about the whole bear thing.”

“Just a what?” Morgan was so surprised she looked Bri square in the face, trying to understand. “Did you say bear? Like...uh...a real bear? A bear who’s sometimes a person or a person who’s sometimes a bear?” She went on, something about tracking the hunter, or the hunter tracking her, she couldn’t keep track of which was which. When had she been tracked? Had someone really reported ‘woman playing dead in the cemetery’ to the police? Were there creepy pictures of her yoinking her arm out of its socket with Jane? Morgan started to tally up her outings in her head, trying to figure out how few pieces someone might need to put together who she was, what she was. “Honey Bri,” she mumbled, coming out of her thoughts. “I’ve never been to...there. The uh, Nightshade Market. I thought there was just...the normal farmer’s market.” She stared at the woman again. She had definitely, definitely said something about bringing hunters to justice. And not through giving them a good talking-to, but murder in the woods kind of justice. Morgan’s insides were still clenched with fear, but she couldn’t help being relieved. She would have wanted this to happen to him. It was what he deserved, dragging her across the forest floor like a mangy animal. But Bri had done it with so much calm. She wasn’t even breaking a sweat. And yet the thing Morgan could summon the words for was, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what bugbear means.���

“A bear,” Bri deadpanned. At the visible still very present confusion, she cackled slightly, She supposed her kind wasn’t as well known as most among the supernatural community. “Both, I suppose. Some bugbears live their lives mostly in bear form, others live mostly in human form. Depends on who you ask. I live mostly as a human. Still am very comfortable with nudity considering I transition between forms often.” She quietly allowed time for the woman to process what had just happened. Near death experiences seemed to throw most for a loop. Learning of a new species was probably also a bit on the strange side, especially if she was new to life as a zombie. Bri’s head was tilted as she watched her process everything. “Nightshade is a night time market that’s open on Friday’s. You can find ordinary stuff there as well as some out of the ordinary things. If you think of it, you can probably find it there. My stand is straightforward though- it’s honey and beeswax candles. I just like bees so I keep them.” She shook her head lightly, the woman was still disoriented and likely still hungry. “Yes, a bugbear. That’s what I am. I eat fear, spook people, and turn into a bear sometimes. The stopping hunters from killing people like you is more of a personal hobby.”

Processing was coming a little easier. Morgan caught the part where Bri’s ratio of animal-to-human was more fifty-fifty than, say, Ricky’s. She understood about the appetite, and how that might open some doors to aggressive tendencies, friendly as she seemed now. “Oh, like a Mara. Only...not. Okay. That’s neat.” She caught the part where Nightshade was a supernatural farmer’s market, and Bri smelled beeswax candles, and had enough brain cells working together to suppose it might be a good thing that she was only finding out about this after she’d lost the magic to compete with her. Bri didn’t seem the type to take kindly to a monkey’s paw. The part where Bri was some sort of superhero vigilante gave her more pause. She wasn’t sure why someone fighting back or helping strangers was the hardest thing to believe since she’d moved here, but it boggled her mind enough to fill her with a distressed wonder. “That’s...I mean, that’s kind of amazing, but...well, don’t you...don’t they ever try to hurt you back? Don’t you ever get scared about what they’ll do? I mean, not that I’m not grateful that I’m not—” she gestured vaguely to the hunter’s body. “Like that. Or in the back of some truck or being cut up for bone goo—” her voice trembled as the wide variety of potential awful started to sink in. “I just mean. That could be you too. That’s a lot to do for someone you don’t know.”

It seemed the initial shock of being hunted was starting to wear off. Bri nodded slowly at the mention of mara. She was familiar with them, primarily because of the shifts she’d pick up every so often at Misery Manor, but she found some of them to be a bit uppity. She paid little attention to their superiority complex. “Not quite. Similar in feeding on fear, but still different. Most mara and bugbears wouldn’t like to be compared. I don’t care much, but there is a little bit of rivalry there.” Bri found her question to be funny. Fear wasn’t something she experienced herself, but she craved other’s fears. Hunting hunters was dangerous from time to time, but it was rewarding work. There was a certain satisfaction that came with snuffing out someone who would choose to eliminate the supernatural altogether if they had the choice. As if they didn’t have the right to exist in their true nature. Whether it was safe was of little concern. Her body shifted as she shrugged and the light crack of twigs beneath her bare feet could be heard. “Nothing scares me. I’ve gotten hurt a few times, but I do not fear pain or death. They’re part of life. Most of the time, they don’t suspect someone is tracking them on their hunts and they don’t typically look for my kind.” While Bri felt righteous in her ways, she wasn’t quite sure how to accept the thanks. It didn’t feel like much. Jack had been easy enough to take down as a bear with the element of surprise. Her head shook slightly, “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather see you alive than Jack here.” She bent down to examine his body. The only part she really cared to save for herself was his teeth. She turned back to Morgan, “Would you care for his brain? I have little use for it.”

“Well...jinkies, Bri,” Morgan said, somewhat at a loss. “I guess that makes you the hero Gotham needs. And a heck of a lot better to look at than Batman.” A little wry humor always helped her keep her balanced on the edge when she thought she might fall over. And, well, this was as on the edge as she’d been since she’d died. Morgan dusted herself off again and backed away from the body. She’d had enough of a taste of what the hunter was capable of  by feeling its wire rope around her. She didn’t want to know what his taste in music was, what sports he liked, how much of a person he’d been, and still hurt her like she was nothing. “I’m good,” she said. “I don’t...do that, not a lot, anyway. But I don’t think I’d want to feel someone like that inside of me anyways. Chop it up for the scavengers to eat, if you want it to go to use.” She swallowed thickly, searching for her footpath out and heading that way. “Even if you say I don’t owe you, I’ll find you, maybe? At the market, or...around. You’re a good person, you know. I hope there’s someone who looks out for you too.”

Bri blinked slowly. She had never really thought of herself as Batman. The only reason she’d even seen any of the films was because the Joker had a certain level of appeal though Harley Quinn was the far greater figure in the movie. She’d rather be Harley Quinn than Batman, but she supposed she could understand the comparison. “Thank you… I guess I am a bit of a vigilante of sorts. I would hope so, but then I don’t find men to be very… appealing to look at it.” She could hardly blame Morgan for not lowering herself to eat hunter brains. There had to be some sort of contagion for their staunch superiority complexes. Still, she felt the need to offer since the woman hadn’t gotten a proper meal. Then she was on about making it up to her. That wasn’t why she did this, but she wouldn’t mind seeing Morgan again. “You really don’t owe me, but I’d love to have you by the stand sometime. I can introduce you to my friend, Glen. His stand has some… things that may suit your appetite. Be safe out there, friend.”  

[chenria]

I continue my “series” for the fifth year in a row where I let one of my characters welcome the spirit of the new year with the last picture I draw in each year... This year I decided to pick my blood elf Brianne. She returned in 2019 and so I decided that it would just be fair to let her represent 2019 for me. 

This was done on my tiny, old Wacom tablet... I am not used to the small size anymore so drawing this was more exhausting than I thought it would be... but overall I am happy with it. 

I hope you all spend some calm last days of 2019. Let’s hope the next decade will bring just good things for all of us!