#bree thrash

[in-ky]

Day 6: Alpha Morgan teehee

BREEDING KINK BREEDING KINK BREE- Summary: you're in heat and arthur comes and helps WARNINGS: A/B/O content and breeding kink, alpha morgan and omega reader (afab, no pronouns). he's kinda rough so medium-low honor arthur lolz. partially dubious consent? idk

You wanted him so badly. Normally, you would stifle your wants and continue on with your day with that sharp longing in your chest for him. But today, it was a need. You needed Arthur. The slick beginning to drip down your thighs was proof enough for that. It was the first heat you had that was giving you intense pain. You thrashed around in your tent, clawing at your sleeping shirt to try and get any sort of relief from the boiling heat you were shrouded in. The heat had come earlier than you were expecting. Usually, you would retreat to the safe house in Cumberland Forest. But, of course and as always, nature had other plans. So here you were, trying to cover up your moans and scent from the Alpha in the tent beside you.

Arthur had helped you with your heat a few times in the past. He always made you safe and protected and never pressured you into becoming his mate. But you wish he did. God how you wished he did. With his stupidly hot attractive body and his scent of bonfire and warm leather that drove you crazy. You wanted him more than anything, but he was just being nice and attending you as one of the group’s alphas. As another wave of cramps and slick crashed into your lower abdomen, you couldn’t help but cry for your alpha. 

He was there in an instant, ripping back the flaps of the tent and glaring down at you with nothing but pure, fiery desire in his gaze.

“Wh- Arthur?” You gasped, pulling your shirt back over you “What are you doing up?” He entered the tent and clasped it shut behind him, so no one would be interrupting you. 

“I smelled you hours ago. I’ve been waiting out there for you to call me in and make sure no one else got to you before I did.”

“Why would you do that?” Arthur leaned in close, placing a kiss on your earlobe.

“Because I’m your alpha.” With that, he grabbed you under your knees and pulled you down so your back was flat against your sleeping mat. You groaned as his hard length rubbed against your bare core, leaving a trail of slick in its wake. “And you’re my omega.” He continued to growl, unbuckling his belt” Your brain gushed with adoration and pleasure. He was yours. He had always been yours.

“Alpha, please.” You begged, clawing at his clothes “Please, I need you inside of me. I need your knot.” Arthur growled, and kissed your neck, nipping and sucking around the junction between your neck and your shoulder. If he had just been biting a little harder, the whole world would know about your pairing. He reached down and unbuckled his pants, sighing in relief as his cock got some pressure relieved. 

“Are you ready?” He asked, taking himself out of his pants. He laughed at your eager nod. “Of course you are, look how much you’re weeping for me.” Arthur gathered your slick on the head of his cock and slowly pressed into you. You immediately felt at ease as his length parted your walls. He was easily able to bottom out on the first thrust because of your eager spasming.

“I will never get used to how nice you feel when you’re gripping me like this.” He groaned, burying his face into your neck and sucking on the sweet spot. Your moans got louder and more desperate, not caring who might hear you.

“Arthur, please!” You gasped at his thrusts “I need you. All of you.”

“Fuck,” He hissed, gliding in and out of you “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Arthur!” You cried, gripping onto his shoulders as the force of his thrusts caused your legs to shake.

“Whose- shit- who’s your alpha?” “You are! You’re my alpha, I’m your omega. I belong to you forever.” The words tumbled out of your mouth without you thinking, but it ignited something in Arthur.” “Damn right.” He growled, picking up his speed. “You’re mine. Mine to love and protect and breed and no one else’s. Everyone's gonna know who you belong to when you're round with my pups. Everyone's gonna see just how good of an omega you are. My omega.” You couldn’t respond to it, but your heart filled with the love and adoration that you had always felt for Arthur. He was yours. Forever. And you were his. And as he rolled you over onto your sides, knot stretching your walls to ensure none of the cum he was continuously pumping into you escaped and muscles tired from both of your releases, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and muttered the three words you had been longing for ever since you met him.

“I love you.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #fanfiction #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #alpha!arthur morgan #omega!reader

[brandiph0]

Bri’s origin story 🐢

Once there’s was a little baby turtle who lived in the sea cave and survived the sea attack from the wilders , her name is Briana or Bree for short she has been suffering from autism and anxiety because of her lost of her parents death from the sea attack.

The next day Bree decided to get out of the sea and enjoy new things and explore more , a place to stay but she kept hearing things in her head that scared her but she persevered and jumped out of the water and hidden in fountain .

Bree: phew I guess they didn’t see me..hey this is so cool and wavy …* laughs and splashes *

Britt and Ali: * talking and getting splashed *

Ali: ack! Hey

Britt: aw man my outfit

Ali: what is that?

Bree: :0 ?

Britt: it that a little turtle? Aw I love little turtles

Ali: it’s already been gooy but cute, hey what’s your name ?

Bree: Briana but you can call me Bree …uhh

Ali: Ali, this is my girlfriend Britt

Britt: nice to meet you Bree

Bree: what a beautiful names you guys have

Both: thanks

Britt: hey why don’t you hang with us and have a chat with the heroes?

Bree: * gasp * I would love to * jump out of the fountain * ta da!!

Britt: * squeals * such a cute baby turtle

Ali: wow you’re jumpy sea creature

Bree: is that bad?

Ali: no that’s just good thing to say it , is called compliment

Bree: oh :0

Britt: let’s go to the heroes

* hours gone by and they when to the hideout and Britt introduces to Briana Tygor and August and they are surprised to see her *

Ali: * whispers * did you get him a white head bend?

August: is a long story I got kidnapped and Tygor save me and almost got a concussion from the attack

Bree: wait the bad guys?

August: yeah but it’s complicated

Ali: trust me we been there a lot

Bree: oh well can I you a story?

Tygor: sure why not kid

* after she explained what happened they fell bad about how she was able to survive on her own and her family wasn’t, she started to tearing down and Tygor gave her a hug for her lost*

* even the goo teens , they gonna take care of her no matter what and they give her a shelter, food , toys and bringing her to daycare to make some friends *

Bengal : hey Bree whenever something happens just come to us whenever you’re ready to talk.

Bree: ok I will I guess you can say I’m a bit shaky

Bengal: you are?

Bree: that’s the way to say I’m nervous but I’ll be ok

Bengal: aww come here ☺️

Bree: * comes over and hugs Bengal *

Bengal: let’s go get you ready for daycare

Bree: yeah :3

* at the mall*

Liam: * on speaker * if anyone lay a hand on that turtle I’ll throw a chair at your head and pan!!

Misaki: Liam….

Ali: Thrash taught him this did he?

Britt: definitely

(( the end))

#gacha club #heros of goo jit zu #goo jit zu oc #goo jit zu #Bri 🐢 #Bengal

[renee-writer]

Loved Her First Chapter 75

AO3

Trees are felled and hauled. Pegs are cut out. Land is prepared as a plan is laid out. There will be a main house, a smaller surgery, with plenty of room for a regular and herb garden.

 

“We will make little houses, for the individual families later.” Jamie says. “But the priority is to get shelter in place before winter.”

 

They all agree. With a passel full of children and more on the way ( Bree is six months along), and the weather turning colder by the day, it is an imperative.

 

For now there are several shelters where the children spend their days.  The triplets lay bundled in blankets with Joanie. Finn and Germaine with their auntie and uncle, play nearby. The women take turns watching them and helping the men. Faith and Marsali are usually the ones as the girls need feed a lot.

 

At night, they camp around a big bonfire. They tell stories to the wide eyed children. Murtagh, taken his role as their Godfather seriously, speaks of the old days, telling the weans tales of the times their grandsire/ papa was a lad.

 

“He climbed on the top of the house, thinking he could fly.”

 

“Did he Godfather?” Germaine asks. He sits, curled up by his own papa.  His mama nurses Joanie by their side.

 

“Nae lad. His da caught him before he could.”

 

“He thrashed me good, the same as I would any of you that tried that. Humans can’t fly.”

 

“Not yet.” Faith mumbles under her breath. Claire, sitting by her, gives her a little shove.

 

“Oh!” Bree whispers. Claire frowns. Her mama and doctor senses are triggered. Jeremiah, holding a sleeping Finn, looks to her.

 

“Baby?”

 

“Bree?” All their attention is on her now. Ainslie and Calaen climbing on their papa, stop and look to their mama.

 

“Mama, oh it hurts.” Her hands clutch her bump. “Something is wrong.”

 

She is by her side as the rest of her family look on with various expressions of concern.

 

Her hands work over her tightening bump. “How often are they coming?” In her mind she is going over what she can do to stop her labor. A child born this early will have absolutely no chance.

 

“This is the second one in ten minutes. Mama is it...?”

 

“We don’t know yet. Try to relax my love.”

 

“Claire, what do you need?” Jeremiah is trying to be calm but…

 

“I need to exam her. Fully.”

 

“I will take the children.” Lizzie offers. With the other mamas help, she gathers them up, taken them into the biggest of the shelters.

 

Claire sees Bree into another. Faith joins them. Outside, her family prays. Claire adjusts Bree’s dress, reaching under to check for dilation, praying she doesn’t find any.

 

“We are going to lose the baby.” Jeremiah groans out. Fergus places his arm around him.

 

“Mílady is very good. You shouldn’t give up hope yet.”

 

“He is right. If anyone can stop the bairn from coming, it will be Claire.” Jamie stands, his hands nervously beating on his thighs.

 

Marsali lifts her hands and voice up to heaven. Murtagh joins her, kneeling down, his hands together and eyes closed.

 

“Mama, is she?”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #omgbarbiegurl's and i's #loved her first #chapter 75 #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom

[risingautumn]

Tried out UGC for the first time!

#magnanimity #screenshot #maplestory #maplestory 2 #ms2 #ms #not tareable art #tare time #ugc #user generated content #bree thrash

[lesbiansforboromir]

Elrond: oh yeah that's some dude from the south idk him

Boromir: doesn't make a peep of complaint

Bree-landers who Aragorn willingly hides his identify from: "strider"

Aragorn: I am screaming, I am tantruming, I am thrashing on the floor do you KNOW!!! what a FAT MAN in Bree calls me!!!!

Aragorn opens his mouth to talk about Barliman and he HAS to call him fat, he could literally be giving him a compliment and it would end with 'for such a fat man', he goes around LAMENTING how terrible it is that no one wants to be his friend!!! I WONDER... IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THAT... ARAGORN.

#chats #erran vs tolkien #FOOD FOR THOUGHT HUH?

[hallothere]

Depths of Evendim

This one is about, well, the pretty dark things that happen on the Docks in Annuminas. So warnings about bodies of water and drowning apply, though no one dies and nothing graphic is detailed!

Arms like a frog, legs walking backwards. Frog arms, backwards leg-

The spear butt found his shoulder again and forced him under. Bronagir barely had time to suck in a breath before the water had closed over him. His boots were waterlogged and even the light uniform of the Rangers was a hindrance. In fact, it was somewhat of an uphill battle to keep his head above the water- and that was before the Angmarim made things difficult. 

The shaft of the spear slipped away and Bronagir surfaced. He could hear the invaders laughing from somewhere up on the dock, but he couldn’t see them for the hood now suctioned to the upper half of his face. However at this stage he could little afford to try and remove it. Any energy not spent staying afloat would kill him faster. 

It had, perhaps, been shortsighted of him to come to Evendim without so much as a thought for the lake. Tinnudir was an island. Annuminas was half surrounded by water. It had only been when Arfirion mentioned swimming to Tyl Ruinen once a month that Bronagir had begun to worry. 

The nearest lake to Esteldín was practically in Bree, and while he had seen rivers a great many times, few of his kinsmen ever ventured in them! He knew how to fish and what to do in a flood (stay away!) but swimming had not been high on his list of priorities. Not until now. 

Calenglad had nearly managed to send him away with a stern look and a reminder that such trips to the islands were necessary. Bronagir was ashamed to admit he had gone more pale than was likely warranted, and begged his new leader to speak with him just a moment. Calenglad had quickly changed his tune. As it turned out, the swimming trips were a training exercise for new recruits, who for the most part had grown up in Ost Forod or on the banks of the Baranduin. They had boats, Calenglad had assured him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Bronagir could be taught soon. 

How happy he was to have learned. 

The spear struck the top of his head this time, and he was barely able to grab some air before the water took him again. These Angmarim… Bronagir realized quickly for all the peril they faced in Esteldín, they were well hidden. They had been safer than in any place except maybe the heart of the Shire. Annuminas was full of danger for him, the least of which stood above on the docks mocking him. 

This time, the spear butt found traction in the folds of his cloak, and the Angmarim held him down for longer than they had before. Bronagir could not fight the panic welling up inside him, and clawed for the surface. He tried to hit the spear shaft away, but the struggle only ended with an arm tangled in his cloak. Valuable time was lost untangling himself, and he bobbed further underneath the dark water. 

Apparently, this was too quick of an ending for the Angmarim. The spear lifted, and Bronagir was able to surface again. He tried to lean backwards a little, as Calenglad had taught him, but he did not want to risk making himself a larger target. 

It was draining him, treading water like this. Calenglad had not drilled him on endurance like the group swimming around Men Erain had done. Bronagir’s lesson had been in the shallows near to the bridge, close to the safety of the camp. 

“I will not have you lost to these waters.” Calenglad had said, “For long have the Dunedain trusted Nenuial, and long have we been protected.”

Bronagir had not felt calm in the water, but he had not felt wholly ill at ease. It felt like a risk, standing chest high in an ancient lake while Calenglad coaxed him to lean back until his feet left the floor. From there, he spent a great deal of time with one hand never leaving Calenglad’s arm, and the other frantically swatting water as if battling a swarm of flies. He learned his head was much like a lever, and how it leaned affected the rest of his body. He learned his lungs were his ally, and a greater lifting force than arm or leg when his energy was spent. 

Air felt like a luxury now. If he could ill afford spare movement he could even less take for granted a single breath. His legs moved back and forth mechanically from hours and hours of drills. His arms made the motions while his vision swam with him and his mind could not keep a steady grasp on him. 

The blunt end of the spear returned, and there was nothing Bronagir could do to fight it. 

His hood slipped free under the waves this time. He’d not had the wherewithal to close his eyes, though the lake was still deep as night. A bit of hazy light floated before him as they were both tossed around by the water. Bronagir had spent his strength fighting a different kind of battle than his brethren. He could only hope their casualties were few, and their own struggles won. 

Despite his wishes, air began to escape through his lips. The Angmarim still did not let up. They must have tired of him at last. Bronagir made a last feeble attempt to unpin himself, but the spear shaft held fast. 

I held out as long as I could Calenglad, he thought.

Bronagir couldn’t feel the spear shaft anymore, but he couldn’t feel much else either. The waves dappled in carefree light above his head. Panic rose with the escaping air in his chest, but there was naught to be done. 

But when all hope had gone, Bronagir’s waning awareness was drawn to a great disturbance next to him. Something hit the water and pushed him aside. And before he could be drawn further under, a pair of hands came up under his arms and thrust him to the surface. 

“Bronagir!”

The voice above him did not belong to any Angmarim. Bronagir gasped and struggled however feebly to keep his face above the surface. He was not clear enough to see, but as the waves rolled back and forth he could hear. 

“Quickly! Grab on! Bronagir-“

Something bumped his shoulder, and with renewed desperation he found the strength to grab it. Clinging tightly, Bronagir was hauled forward and upward until a pair of hands grabbed his tunic and hauled him onto the dock. 

“Careful, turn him. I’ll grab a blanket.”

The second voice seemed to come from farther away, but Bronagir did not have the energy to ponder it. He was being held and coaxed into spitting water. Each breath was more a series of coughs than anything else. His rescuer detached his cloak and flung it aside, evidenced by the lifted weight and squelching sound to his right. He was lying half in someone’s lap and whoever it was insisted on prodding his stomach as if to encourage him to spit up more of the lake. 

“Bronagir, can you hear me? Please, wake up- We need to move you at once. It’s not safe here.”

Weakly, Bronagir swatted the hand away. Of course it wasn’t safe here. He’d nearly just been drowned by Angmarim invaders. The understatement was enough to get him to open his eyes, and instead of the depths of the lake he found Orchalwë’s face staring back at him. 

“You are alive.” Was all the elder Ranger said for a long moment, before trying to help his young companion to his feet. Bronagir was unsteady, but he knew they had to flee. 

“Who… was it who jumped in after me?” He managed between coughs. It looked as if Orchalwë did not want to answer- or at least took issue with him trying to speak so soon- but eventually he responded. 

“Neither of us went in after you. One of the dead invaders fell off the dock, and Gwonil nearly dove in for you when you came back to the surface.”

Bronagir frowned but focused on Orchalwë’s brutal pace back to Gwonil’s boat. She was waiting for them both with a blanket, and pushed the craft off the dock once all were boarded. 

More puzzled than before, Bronagir let Orchalwë fuss over him as he tried to stay awake long enough to remember those last few moments underwater. 

“Someone was there…” he croaked from within his swaddling prison, “Someone lifted me to the surface. My strength was gone when you arrived. Had it not been for that help, you may not have pulled me living from the lake.”

Both Gwonil and Orchalwë looked at him curiously, their faces betraying very little in the flickering light of the boat lantern. Finally, after a long moment, Gwonil broke the silence. 

“Emmellîn.” She whispered to Orchalwë. “Though… though I thought she did not venture out from the Rushingdale.”

Bronagir blinked first at Gwonil and then at Orchalwë. He was fading fast, but felt owed an explanation. 

Orchalwë was the one to take mercy on him. “It is… what some of us call the Maiden of the Lake, Gwindeth, friend of Elendil and protector of these waters. I had heard she spoke sometimes to Calenglad, for he would visit her in Gwindethrond to talk of the distant past but-... Others have spoken of seeing her in storms, or when they met peril in the waters of Nenuial but came out unscathed.” He paused again. “They would not call her Emmellîn if she was too unkind or too distant. Calenglad always looked fondly upon the Lake.”

Of course, he had heard something of the Lady Gwindeth. But as much as he wanted to listen, to hear more of this strange Lady his kinsmen would liken to a mother, Bronagir instead fell shivering into the middle of the boat and knew no more. 

When he awoke, he was underwater again. It was dark, and the pressure on his chest gripped him. Bronagir thrashed and fought clawing for the surface-

Several pairs of hands had him, and they steadied him as he heaved up the nothing in his stomach. He was once more on dry land, not in the depths of the lake. Orchalwë was still there, and Gwonil, but so was Calenglad, and Cannasgam and Cannuion. It seemed he had come around not far from the dock at Tinnudir, in the middle of being moved to somewhere drier. 

“Bronagir-“ Calenglad gripped his arm and searched his face. “You… you are very lucky.”

It seemed a small statement after something that felt very big. Bronagir managed a laugh but he clung all the tighter to the closest arm in reach. 

“I… have the arms of a frog.” he joked with some effort, and coughed a good while afterward. “And now… the voice to match!”

It had rather the opposite effect from the one he’d hoped. Calenglad looked pained, and more aged now than he had when he’d discovered another recruit Nethryn had been lying about being even seventeen summers old-- and had in fact snuck away to join them. Bronagir’s false cheer faltered. Taking his arm up again, Calenglad directed them all to head to the Keep.

“You will all swim.” He said solemnly, after a long silence. “All who come to Evendim will swim, or I will teach them. From now on-“

One of Bronagir’s legs was very much asleep and he stumbled, nearly taking down Gwonil with him. Calenglad and Orchalwë practically carried him the rest of the way to the Keep, hearing no protest and making no delay. In short order, Bronagir was settled once more somewhere dry, having been relieved of his boots, his uniform, and even his knife. And undignified as it was, Uiriel propped him up against one wall, with pillows preventing his leaning in any direction. 

“You might have swallowed much more water than you know, or breathed it in and not coughed it all back up.” Uiriel said. “Tirnedhruith and I are going to watch you to make sure you do not drown out of water.”

Bronagir frowned. That was usually only a danger to children, who were fatigued more easily and slept more deeply. But he was in no state to protest. The things that had transpired before were catching up to him, and a chill deeper than the blankets could fight crept over him. 

“Sleep.” Uiriel said, taking pity on him. “Fight this no more. We will wake you.”

He slept soundly, and when he woke up once on his own Tirnedhruith was there. Many recruits were wary of the veteran Ranger on account of his size and his stern countenance. Even in the Keep, Tirnedhruith was primed to fight. Such was the way of the Dunedain. But after one glance at the ready arm and sturdy shield it held, Bronagir never felt more safe in all his life.  

Uiriel woke him again in what he assumed were the morning hours, though he could not tell from inside. He realized he was in the heart of the Keep, where they prepared in contingency for a siege on Tinnudir and where children preferred to shelter in times of storm. He did not see Tirnedhruith nearby, but found him after a moment tending to another pale and weary looking Ranger Bronagir recognized from Annuminas. 

This was one of Marshall Fimdir’s men- Firinhad- that he had been assigned to patrol with as a part of his training. Dínhaleth, their patrol leader, was there too and she looked as if she had swam from Annuminas herself. She was talking with Tirnedhruith and gesturing to Firinhad, who seemed to be on the verge of a faint. It was then Bronagir noticed the bloodied bandages.

“Bronagir, eyes here.” Uiriel blocked the rest of the room from his sight and forced him to look at her. She studied his face for a moment, then held up a finger. “Follow this with your eyes. Don’t look anywhere else if you can help it.”

Frowning, Bronagir complied. Uiriel moved her hand around and he was able to track it easily. He was fairly sure he had not been hit on the head at any time recently. Yet Uiriel carried on as if he’d been bludgeoned, checking under his hair for bumps and squinting at him intently. 

“Is something wrong?” Bronagir ventured. 

Uiriel pursed her lips. “Orchalwë wishes to conduct a debriefing when you are well enough to speak. He was concerned you had sustained a head injury and asked to make sure you were not suffering from that as well.” 

Bronagir felt the ghost of an Angmarim spear on the crown of his head and shuddered. But he took a deep breath and looked back to Uiriel. “No, from that at least I was spared. If my clothes are dry I feel I am well enough to speak to Orchalwë. Else, I shall take this blanket as my cloak and parade around like a wandering shade.”

That got the desired laugh as Uiriel was reassured of his condition. “Tirnedhruith set them by the fire, and they are not only dry but warm as well.” The smile that broadened on her face was infectious. “But I would have told you otherwise had you been concussed.”

“Lying to your patients now? Egads, Healer, such treachery!” Bronagir’s joke was marred by another cough and he found his chest sorer than he remembered it being. Uiriel’s scrutinizing gaze was back on him now, but Bronagir waved a leaden arm. “Truly I am better, if not fully well.” When Uiriel did not relent, he tried again, “And I swear upon the walls of Esteldín I will tell you if I discover so much as a bruise or a splinter.” 

With a sigh, the healer stood and went to retrieve his things. Bronagir took a moment to lie there and breathe. Calenglad was right, he had been extremely lucky. Had he not quailed at the thought of swimming to Tyl Ruinen, he would be dead. He would not have survived nearly long enough for Orchalwë and Gwonil to rescue him. Idly, he wondered if he might have still been rescued by the Lady of Nenuial, even if he’d regarded her watery domain with such ignorance. 

Uiriel returned with his things and switched posts with Tirnedhruith for a moment in case he needed assistance in dressing. Tirnedhruith in turn helped him to stand and handed him things as needed. In truth, Bronagir felt well enough to go now, but his silent warden scrutinized him almost as intently as Uiriel had. 

“Before I go-” Bronagir interjected, “-I did swear a solemn oath to Uiriel. I found two bruises.” Tirnedhruith’s face did not change but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. “And I would not leave without informing her of them.”

Methodically, he pulled on the neck of his shirt to reveal a coin-sized spot on his chest below the shoulder. “From the spear, I think. Luckily the Angmarim don’t know which is the sharp end.”

Tirnedhruith did not find this jest nearly as funny, and Bronagir was quick to abandon the whole pretense. When the glare did not lift, he remembered he had mentioned two bruises and supposed he was expected to declare the second before being allowed to leave. He hiked up his left sleeve to expose his bicep and mumbled, “Landed on a stone.”

It was a tense moment before Tirnedhruith nodded. Feeling ever more like a prisoner rather than a patient, Bronagir was steered by the shoulder away from his bedroll and into the meeting room. Orchalwë was not yet there, though Uiriel had gone ahead of him and was reporting something to Gwonil who looked pained. 

“Dínhaleth had grave news, but nothing as bad as you had feared. The docks were not overrun, though she fears they might try something like this again. She said the patrol was able to rescue all the others, even Ningeryn. Wounded as he was, Firinhad knew how to revive her.” 

Uiriel stopped as soon as she realized who it was in the room with them, and Bronagir felt he had heard more than he was meant to. Ningeryn was one of the other recruits in his patrol, and he had not seen her since they had been separated. Luckily, Uiriel was saved any kind of diversion as Orchalwë joined them. 

“Bronagir! You are recovered then?” He asked this more to Tirnedhruith and Uiriel, but seemed satisfied overall. Tirnedhruith did go so far as to steer his ever-embarrassed charge to a chair before leaving with Uiriel. Now, it was just Bronagir, Gwonil, and Orchalwë. The debrief could begin. 

He supposed he might as well get straight to the point and eliminate any awkwardness. “We were on patrol near the Port, scouting between the Port itself and the Gate of Adannon. Dínhaleth had orders to make sure the Angmarim hadn’t made as heavy landfall as they appeared to, and to burn any boats we discovered.”

This much they probably both knew, but he would tell it as it occurred and leave as few questions as possible. “Dínhaleth split the group. I went with Ningeryn and Firinhad to the northwest, where we did find and burn a rowboat. Firinhad asked me to double back along our trail to fetch some rope so we could cross another section of ruins. On the way back I… ran afoul of an Angmarim scout who had snuck up behind us. I dispatched him, but before he fell, he grabbed onto me and upset my balance so that I… tumbled down the hill and into the midst of his own patrol.”

Ashamed as he was to admit this, neither Orchalwë or Gwonil regarded him with a chastising look. “And then you were captured?” Orchalwë pressed gently after a moment. 

Bronagir took a breath. “Yes. Three of them grabbed me and, when I would not talk, marched me to their own rowboat and made for the docks. There were others there, and dark things of which you are no doubt aware. I thought I was being brought for questioning, but they cut my bonds and pushed me into the lake. You… well, you arrived for the rest.”

“Yes.” Gwonil replied quietly. Her fists were clenched and Orchalwë looked slightly ill at the memory. Bronagir supposed he must be luckier than they imagined. For all the terror he had experienced, he had not witnessed his kinsman succumb to the lake. That… that would have been harder for him to bear than the weight of the Angmarim spear. 

The room had fallen silent again. Bronagir nearly lost his nerve, but he was burning to know what disaster had befallen the rest of his patrol. 

“Ningeryn and Firinhad… were they captured as well?”

Orchalwë’s sigh sparked his panic afresh. “Yes. Firinhad told us much of it. When you did not return, he and Ningeryn followed your trail to the shore. They did not double back for Dínhaleth, but scouted the docks in a stolen rowboat.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “I cannot disparage their efforts, for they slew many invaders and enabled us to retake lost ground. But Firinhad was wounded and Ningeryn nearly drowned. We came to rescue you while Dínhaleth and the rest of your patrol sought after them. They arrived in Tinnudir just behind us.”

Bronagir swallowed thickly. “And Ningeryn? I saw Firinhad talking but did not see any sign-”

Gwonil cut in. “She will recover. Firinhad needed to push water from her lungs, and she will take more time to rest than you will.”

He didn’t miss the order for future rest, but said nothing. Even though the circumstances had been out of his control, he had put his commanders through enough already. Orchalwë in particular looked as if he had not slept all night and Gwonil was still tense. A surge of apprehension came over Bronagir without warning and he took a breath to try and dispel it. Unfortunately, the source of his agony was misunderstood. 

“You are not yet well.” The legs of Orchalwë’s chair scraped across the stone floor as he jumped to his feet. “I will help you back downstairs. You must rest-”

Hastily Bronagir shook his head. “No, no- I am… Orchalwë, I am ashamed. I could not have bested three Angmarim that took me by surprise, but… But had I not been captured, my patrol would not have suffered thus.”

Orchalwë did not sit, but rounded the table to stand by Bronagir’s chair. “Battle is never easy and the aftermath even less so. Though you are right that you are not to blame, and we can still count ourselves fortunate that you all survived.”

With that, the debrief was swiftly concluded so that Orchalwë could march Bronagir back downstairs. He supposed that the extra precautions were unwarranted, but all of them had been shaken. The cruelty of the enemy was known to them, yet the events of last night were more harrowing than any he had witnessed here.

Tirnedhruith was waiting downstairs and accepted his duties as warden again eagerly. Bronagir was turned over and put up mock protest to assure them their fears were unwarranted. 

“Really,” he said, trying to find balance between reassurance and an insistance that would not draw Tirnedhruith’s ire, “I have come through it mostly unscathed.” He stopped his protest short when he saw Calenglad had returned, and was at Firinhad’s bedside. Ah. They had incurred the worry of their leader, which was to be feared as much as his wrath. The anger of Calenglad boded ill for their enemies and promised swift action from the master strategist. But his concern was all-consuming. He could turn his analytical mind to the problem, but the worry would not abate as swiftly as his rage would. As long as the issue remained, Calenglad could not rest easy. 

“You care not for me, to deliver me back into this.” Bronagir murmured to his ever-present warden. He thought he saw the corner of Tirnedhruith’s mouth twitch, but the dour expression was cemented again before he could be sure. Either way, he was made to sit back down. Again, Bronagir was called to mutter “Traitor” as Tirnedhruith made off with his boots. 

He did not have to wait long for Calenglad to venture over. It looked as if Firinhad had fallen asleep at last, and Dínhaleth had taken up a post at his bedside. With everything in hand, their leader was free to seek out the initial casualty. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Bronagir knew he had to be honest but did not want to burden Calenglad any more than he already had. “Much better. I am tired, of course, but Gwonil and Orchalwë have sent me back to rest. I am sure it will go away in no time at all.” He was careful not to try another jest, not with the look on Calenglad’s face. There was some plot, some scheme of concern cooking, and Bronagir needed to survive that as well. 

“Very good.” Calenglad said at last. “Orchalwë was worried you had hit your head. He said when they pulled you from the water, you were not speaking sense.” When he was met with an expectant look, Bronagir realized that was more a question than a statement. 

“Oh… Oh well I… I thought someone had jumped in and helped me to the surface. Orchalwë said neither of them jumped in after me, and Gwonil thought it might have… been… the Lady of Nenuial.” he finished quietly. 

Calenglad’s face remained frozen and completely unreadable. Bronagir was worried he was about to call for Uiriel or Tirnedhruith, when Calenglad exhaled deeply. “I see.”

There had to be more to it than that, but when nothing else was forthcoming, Bronagir was left with more questions than before. Had it really happened as he remembered? Did the others think him mad? Calenglad, at least, was not insisting he be checked for another head wound. Though it was a long time again before his leader spoke.

“I would not ask you to do this now, or too soon, but it would be best for you to train with Calatherdir. He is one of the strongest swimmers I know, and he has offered to help others in the past. Please-” Calenglad raised a hand, “-do not think this a punishment. It would be best if-... I need everyone to do this.” 

Bronagir understood. “Of- of course. I will make sure to… set up something when I see him next.” 

Calenglad smiled back at him, more grateful than pleased, before he stood. “Thank you, Bronagir. I will let you rest, though it brings me joy to see you well.”

And with that, he was alone a moment with his thoughts. Bronagir was determined more than ever he would learn to swim, rather than just tread water. In addition, it might be good to see if Ningeryn was given a similar task. No one had said as much, but he suspected she and Firinhad had nearly met an identical fate to his. Perhaps it would be easier to… overcome with an ally. They would no doubt be joined, and Bronagir felt buoyed at the prospect of training with his kin. There was strength as well as safety in numbers, and perhaps the sight of them all would ease Calenglad’s fears. 

Tirnedhruith came back to resume his silent watch. That was a comfort. Silent vigil was the way of the Dunedain and- as Gwonil and now Bronagir believed- that of their hidden allies. 

Should he ever meet Gwindeth- or Emmellîn- he would have to thank her. 

#lotro #writing #saga of babyranger #not really but idk #maybe he'll be inducted into the ranger recycling program #this is pre-epic btw #just before the good old pc gets into evendim #proofreading? don't know her #calengang #that's intentional dw #calenglad

[melonishus]

Sooo, Angel Weiss, how awkward are those dates you go on with Jaune? Or are they in fact very nice, just annoying due to cutting into valuable Ruby Watching?

Jaune- THEY’RE NOT THAT AWKWARD

Weiss- It’s fine Jaune [kisses him on the cheek] The first few were awkward, but they did get better when you cut the nonsense

Jaune - [sighs] I’m sorry about the guitar

Weiss- It’s fine....I’m just sorry that I’m keeping you from dating someone you really like [narrows eyes] Like a certain red head

Jaune - Xiao Long are you going to deny YOUR feelings

Weiss- I am an eligible pansexual angel, who is playing the field , you are a mortal BOY with his first crush. We are not the same

Jaune - Weiss[ takes Weiss’s hand] I don’t regret dating you 

Weiss- [sighs and looks away] You say that now

......

[A Younger Weiss carries a bouquet of flowers down the avenue in Mantle, looking for her girlfriend. She had been keeping it secret from her superiors for over a year. As she prepared to sit down in her usual spot,  she looked to her feet and noticed a familiar scroll. She picked it up and looked at it’s lock screen, her and Illia during finishing school]

Weiss - [stands up and drops the flowers] No....

[Weiss takes a look  around and hears voices from  the alleyway]

??? - Hold her down

[Weiss picks up the pace to find the voice, when she hears her girlfriend shriek, accompanied by a steaming hiss]

[Weiss runs deeper and finds Illia on  the floor, a red headed faunus boy held a SDC brand in his hand, which he had just used on Illia]

Faunus Boy -  [sneer] Just marking your property ma....

[Weiss raised her arms, the snow around the group coming to a halt mid-air. The boy and his group stopped as well]

Weiss- [shakily walks to the boy] Let’s see how you like it

[Weiss takes the boys hand, and bring the brand to his face. His eyes darted around in a frenzied panic as Weiss brought it closer, until she pressed it to his face. His other eye darted around more frantically as the other was burned beyond  recognition, crying profusely even though he could make no sound, no other movement before it rolled into the back of his head]

[Weiss released time and went to Ilia, her wings protecting her from the snow]

Ilia - W...Weiss ?

Weiss- I’m here Ilia, I.....

[Time stopped again]

Weiss - [quickly stood up and looked around] No...

[General Ironwood and Harriet Bree descended from the rooftops]

Weiss- General wait, I ....!

[Ironwood held up his hand, Weiss froze]

Ironwood - You know the rules Schnee, you revealed yourself to a mortal

Weiss- She won’t tell anyone !

Ironwood- No...she won’t

[Ilia looked around panicked

[With all her might, Weiss broke free of her confinement and summoned Myrtenaster as she made a dash towards Ironwood. Harriet stepped between them and restrained Weiss]s

Ilia- Weiss ? What’s going on ?!  [Ilia starts to shrink in her  clothes, her face becoming more youthful] Who are these people ?!

[Weiss struggled harder, crying as she thrashed in Harriet’s arms]

llia - I feel  weird...I can...can na....[speech dissolves into gurgles and coos as she is regressed into an infant, her eyes losing any sense of recognition of the people around her, including Weiss]

[Harriet releases Weiss, who collapses on the ground. Weiss squeezes her eyes shut as she hears Ilia cry, she  closes her hand around a clump of snow as she tries to not look up at Ironwood.]

Ironwood - Find a place for this child and be sure to not do this kind of thing again. You’re young, but you must learn that we are  above mortal men

[Ironwood flies off with Harriet. Weiss crawls over to Baby Ilia and holds her close. Ilia  looks up to her and places a hand on her eye.

__________

Writing Requests are OPEN

Angel Weiss 9 

#rwby #weiss schne #ilia amitola #james ironwood #melon skits #angel! weiss au

[artificialqueens]

If I break my heart around this (Crystal/Gigi) - Brianna

SUMMARY: gigi can't function. getting out of bed doesn't matter. nicky tries her best to help, but it's hopeless.

crystal is gone. and soon enough, gigi will be too.

A/N: hey everyone! i'm bree and you're going to be seeing me around these parts! i absolutely love crystal and gigi so they'll be the only ship i write about, haha. you can find me at my blog, @briannaisgucci ! love y'all!

--

Nicky can't remember the last time she saw a smile on Gigi Goode's face. She doubts there ever will be one again. She fears Gigi's going to slip away, and she knows it's inevitable, but what more can she do than watch? Gigi keeps pushing her away, leaving herself to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling all day as tears fall down the sides of her face. It's like she's hoping for her to come back, even though she knows that's impossible.

Because she's gone.

The day they had gotten the news that Crystal was in the hospital, Nicky remembered Gigi thrashing about on the floor of her bedroom, wailing and screaming her lungs out. They drove to the hospital immediately after, almost getting a ticket along the way. But Gigi was nauseous the whole ride. She couldn't bear being in another car again. And then, when they had finally gotten to the hospital, they weren't allowed in yet. Gigi sat in the waiting room in Nicky's arms for the next six hours, crying until her voice went hoarse.

Once they were cleared for entering and seeing Crystal, they didn't waste any time. They stepped into the room and saw the red-haired girl lying there in the bed, unconscious. There were bruises and gashes all over her body. Scrapes and burns adorned her frame, and just when Gigi thought she couldn't cry any more tears, they started streaming down again. Nicky tried her best to console the broken girl, but the reality was that she wasn't as broken as the victim in front of them.

She was unconscious for a couple of days. The 24-hour periods felt like years upon years of waiting for her to wake up. For her to get better. But the next Sunday, the complete opposite had happened. Gigi begged and pleaded for them to keep her on life support, for them to do whatever they could. But it was useless. Crystal was long gone. It broke her, even more, when they asked her if she wanted Crystal's wedding ring, as it had survived in the crash. But Gigi said no, to keep it on Crystal's finger, a gentle reminder that Crystal would forever be hers. What would she do with the band had they given it back to her? Gigi wouldn't marry again. No one else was Crystal.

The bright-eyed, wide-smiled girl turned into nothing but a meaningless corpse in a field filled with even more lost souls and bodies about two weeks later. It was a family-only event, because Gigi couldn't bear the looks on their friend's faces when they'd say goodbye to Crystal.

God, even the word "their" gave Gigi a distaste on her tongue.

She already missed Crystal's morning kisses and cuddles. Her cheesy jokes and puns she'd recite throughout the day. The way she knew how to make something feel better with just being there. The way her tan skin looked in the moonlight, the light only accentuating her perfections. Imperfections? Gigi couldn't think of any.

Crystal felt like someone Gigi knew without knowing. She felt her in her heart, without having the slightest idea of her. She didn't want to say goodbye. They had so much to go through together. Having family, pets, graduations, weddings...They were all gone. There was no way Gigi would bring that back without Crystal.

Nicky tried her best to get Gigi out of bed. Out of the door. But helping her try to restart her life was useless because Nicky would never understand. It's an emotion and experience she'll never feel or go through.

But today, Nicky tried again. She tried rto get Gigi out the door and into the car, to be there out on the highway tracks with her, or, just the plain trail of concrete surrounding the apartment complex. And it worked, for some reason, Gigi walked outside and into the car.

The two of them sat in the front seats of Nicky's Volkswagen, driving around in the night, simply around the neighborhood. The street lamps casted shadows on the pavements and gave the ability of trees and front lawns to be seen. Gigi stared out the window, her face set in stone.

For the first time in two weeks she spoke.

"Today is the day we met," she rasps out, referring to her dead lover. Nicky stays silent as she waits for Gigi to break down yet again. But she doesn't. Instead, there is an absence of tears from her face. Her stoic expression the only trait of her being alive.

They returned 20 minutes later, and Gigi went straight to her bedroom. Nicky heard nothing from the girl, so she went to check up on her. She lay there in her bed, eyes wide open. She wasn't sleeping tonight. She probably wouldn't until two weeks after, when she finally would give up on life as a whole, leaving the same way her lover did, but on purpose. Of course, Nicky wouldn't know how soon Gigi would be gone, but she knew it was coming.

She could only watch as Gigi burned her life down.

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #crygi #nicky doll #angst #death #grief #car crashes #poor gigi #and crystal (duh) #im sorry #brianna #tw major character deaths #s12

[calpalirwin]

Bailey, Bailey, Bailey

Summary: Mason doesn’t want to leave for Daddy Finn’s without his baby sister.

A/N: Remember how I said I had an idea in progress, but was in a weird headspace so I was gonna take a small break? Break’s over. Back to your regularly scheduled Bree writing antics.

Word Count: 1.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

Mason only got to spend a few days with Bailey before the weekend rolled around. In lieu of going out like they normally did, Finn dropped by with a pizza when he made his daily appearance to help out.

“Anything different happen when I was gone?” Finn asked as they sat around the table.

“Same shit, different day,” Vanessa told him.

“So fuckin’ exhausted?”

“So fuckin’ exhausted,” she nodded with a laugh. “But very happy.”

“And how are you holding up?” Finn asked, looking over at Ashton.

“Never felt so fuckin’ useless,” the other man admitted.

“Told ya.”

“Oh, hush,” Vanessa told them both. “You guys might not be able to do feedings, but having you both is helping me a lot. Mase, sweet boy, eat please.”

Mason was half turned in his chair, pizza slice mainly uneaten as he chattered softly “Baie, Baie, Baie,” to the infant who was sleeping soundly in her swing.

“Mason,” she said a bit firmer, waiting until he was looking at her before repeating herself. “You need to eat.”

“Baie, Momma.”

“Yes, I know she’s right there. You need to eat.”

“Baie!” He crossed his arms.

“Suit yourself then.”

“That’ll be fun later,” Finn muttered sardonically. It’d been a battle all three adults had been having with the boy the past few days. If Bailey was anywhere in Mason’s line of sight, that’s where his focus was. Which would be endearing if it didn’t result in the biggest meltdowns over getting Mason to do even the simplest of tasks.

Vanessa pushed her seat back. “I’ll go put her upstairs. Maybe then he’ll eat.”

Ashton wiped at his mouth before rushing to his feet. “Nah, I got it baby. Sit and eat.”

“Nuh-uh,” Vanessa told him, picking the path of least resistance. “I got Bailey.”

“You fucker…” Finn shook his head at her, knowing what was about to happen.

“Good luck, boys,” Vanessa told them both sweetly as she walked over to the baby.

“Mase!” Both men raced to get the boy’s attention.

“Baie?” Mason asked in confusion as Vanessa carefully shifted Bailey out of the swing and into her arms. “Momma! Baie!”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Ashton grabbed Mason before the toddler could run after Vanessa, pulling the squirming boy onto his lap.

“Baie!” he screeched, kicking his legs and thrashing his body.

Finn jumped out of his seat to help Ashton, getting in Mason’s line of sight. “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice calm and soft. “Bailey’s just going upstairs.”

“Baie!” Mason sobbed.

“I know you’re sad, but this isn’t going to get Bailey back down here.”

“Baie!” Mason swiped angrily at Finn.

“You can be upset, but you do not hit.”

Mason growled and leaned to swipe at his dinner, sending the plate skittering off on the table before clattering to the floor.

Finn’s jaw ticked, and Ashton flipped Mason around to face him. “Hey. That wasn’t very nice. Here, breathe with me.” He took the boy’s hand, holding it to his chest. “Ready?” He took a big breath in, waiting for Mason to copy him. Ashton blew out his breath with Mason, smiling at the boy. Ashton repeated the process a handful of times until Mason was breathing regularly without Ashton’s guidance. “Good job. Better, or do we need to do it again?”

Mason shook his head.

“Okay, I’m gonna let you go, but we have to be calm.”

“Papa,” Mason nodded.

Ashton set the boy back in his own chair while Finn placed a new piece of pizza in front of him. “Eat, please.” When Mason started to pick his food, Finn went back to his seat, rubbing at his face. “This isn’t gonna end well when I take him with me here in a bit, is it?”

“God, no,” Ashton laughed.

Both men were trying to coax the boy into taking more bites of pizza, who defiantly took the smallest possible nibbles in response, when Vanessa came back downstairs with Bailey. “Shit, she wake up?” Ashton asked, scraping his chair back and rising to his feet.

“Yeah. Got her to latch for a bit, but she let go. Just came down for water be-”

“Because breastfeeding makes you thirsty,” Ashton and Finn finished with a nod. “Here,” Finn said, holding out his arms. “I’ll take her while you get settled.”

“Thanks,” Vanessa smiled gratefully at him before shaking out her arms.

“Where do you wanna set up, baby?” Ashton asked, passing her a glass of water.

She took a deep gulp from the glass before answering. “On the couch is fine. Finn, you might as well just take Mase. He’s not gonna eat, and Bailey’s just gonna bounce back and forth between eating and sleeping herself.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he said, handing Bailey over once Vanessa got settled on the couch. “I won’t drop by tomorrow just to give you some rest, but we’ll drop by Monday after I pick him up from Mom’s.”

“Sounds good. Oh! Bring Mom with you guys. I’m sure she’d love to see Bailey now that we’re home and everything.”

“She’d love that.” Finn pressed a swift kiss to Vanessa’s cheek before ducking down further to place one on Bailey’s head. “Love you, sweet girl.”

“Say ‘bye Daddy, love you,’” she cooed, moving Bailey’s small hand up to wave at Finn. “Bye Finn.”

“Bye Ness. Mase, say bye to Momma and Papa.”

Mason climbed down from his chair before going over to hug Ashton’s leg. “Bye buddy. Have fun at Daddy’s, and I’ll see in a few days. Love you.” Ashton told him, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“Papa,” Mason replied, squeezing Ashton’s leg tight before letting go and running off to Vanessa. “Momma.” He hugged her leg, giving her a lighter squeeze than he had given Ashton.

“Bye sweet boy. I love you and I’ll see you in a few days.” She ran her hand through his hair, shifting the locks back into their usual place.

“Later, man,” Finn called out over his shoulder to Ashton.

“See ya, mate.”

All the adults’ eyes locked for a brief second, a shared look of relief that Mason was too caught up in the routine of leaving with Finn to realize what was happening. They didn’t dare breath for fear of jinxing it.

Finn had just gotten Mason to the car when the boy let out a confused. “Baie?”

“Son offa…” Finn swore, picking up Mason.

“Baie!” Mason wailed in anguish.

“Bailey’s staying with Momma and Papa. She’s too little.”

“Baie!” he sobbed into Finn’s shoulder

“We’ll come back in a few days, and see Bailey.”

“Baie!” Mason’s voice was growing hoarse from the yelling he’d done.

Finn held Mason tightly to him, swaying lightly back and forth, waiting for Mason to exhaust himself. When the cries turned to sniffles, Finn asked him, “Are you upset we’re leaving without Bailey, or because you didn’t say bye? 1 or 2?”

Mason held up 3 fingers. Both.

“Okay. But remember what I said? Bailey’s too little. She can’t come with us yet. We gotta wait until she gets bigger.”

“Baie…”

“Yeah, it does suck,” Finn agreed. “It makes me sad, too. But, we can go back inside and we can bye to Bailey. Would you like that?”

Mason nodded. “Baie.”

“Alight. Just to say bye.”

“How far did ya get?” Ashton asked as the front door opened.

“Almost had him in the car,” Finn chuckled.

“Damn…”

“Yep. Okay, Mase. Go say bye.”

Finn set the boy on his feet and Mason ran straight for Vanessa and Bailey, climbing his way up to be beside them. “Baie, Baie, Baie.”

“Bailey, Bailey, Bailey.”

__

Tag List

@frontmanash​​ @goeatsomelife​​ @flameraine​​ @creator-appreciator​​ @cxddlyash​​ @1-irwin-94​​ @sparkling-calm​​ @tea4sykes​​ @youngblood199456​​ @5-seconds-of-obsession​​ @gosh-im-short​​ @aquarius-hood1996​​ @talkfastromance4​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​​ @philthepegacorn​​ @boomerash​​ @teenwolfss24​​ @karajaynetoday​ @myfavfanficsever​ @stormrider505​ @cashtonisruiningmylife​ @another-lonely-heart​

#bailey bailey bailey #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #5sos #ashton&vanessa #ash&mase #mase&bai #yes nessa refers to finn's mom as mom because we stan finn and his mom #galcal irwin

[scottbcrowley2]

Drew Brees makes history in style, Saints thrash Redskins 43-19 - Mon, 08 Oct 2018 PST

Drew Brees passed Peyton Manning to become the NFL’s all-time leader in yards passing with a 62-yard touchdown to rookie Tre’Quan Smith on Monday night that sent New Orleans on ... Drew Brees makes history in style, Saints thrash Redskins 43-19 - Mon, 08 Oct 2018 PST

#Spokesman.com: Latest stories #Drew Brees makes history in style #Saints thrash Redskins 43-19 - Mon

[risingautumn]

dA, Insta: tareloin

#bree thrash #magnanimity #schwanda #startz #ms #maplestory #maplestory fanart #ms fanart #maplestory 2 #ms 2 #ms2 #maplestory 2 fanart #digital art #digital #art #cartoon #chibi #chibi art #oc #original character #tare time #tareable art #> both of these were drawn a while ago im just a fool that didnt ever post them #also schwanda's form? terrible.

[casorasi]

Brees makes history in style, Saints thrash Redskins 43-19

NEW ORLEANS (AP) — Drew Brees' 62-yard touchdown pass to rookie Tre'Quan Smith made him the NFL's all-time leader in yards passing and sent the New Orleans Saints well on their way to a lopsided 43-19 victory over the mistake-prone… Brees makes history in style, Saints thrash Redskins 43-19

#Brees makes history in style #Saints thrash Redskins 43-19

[snarehq]

congratulations   ,   rosie   —   bree   tanner   and   heidi   have   been   accepted   .   please   submit   your   account   within   the   next   24   hours   and   run   through   the   checklist   !   zendaya   and   ana   de   armas   are   now   unavailable  .

(     zendaya  .  twenty  -  one  .  cis  female  +  she/her  .     )     ——     ❛     currently  associated  with  the  newborn  army  is  bree  josephine  tanner ,  forks’  very  own  resident  vampire  .  a  local  for  the  past  few  months  ,  she’s  often  been  found  to  be  iconoclastic  and  pragmatic  but  has  a  tendency  to  choose  the  comfort  of  unknowing  over  satiated  curiosity  when  under  pressure  .  currently  unaware  of  the  impending  war  ,  bree’s  always  reminded  people  of  the  sting  of  tears  that  refuse  to  be  shed  held  back  with  everything  in  you  and  bottled  until  an  inevitable  shatter  ,  dreams  too  sweet  you  know  that  they  are  not  true  but  oh  is  it  lovely  to  indulge  in  repose  ,  wiping  away  at  a  fogged  mirror  to  greet  a  face  you  do  not  recognize  /  something  vicious  in  the  eyes  staring  back  and  yet  you  cannot  look  away  ,  the  absence  of  time  passing  as  you  sit  in  the  back  of  a  diner  with  crescent  moon  shaped  coffee  stains  on  the  table  while  you  stare  at  cars  passing  in  the  dark  ,  dark  waters  thrashing  at  a  cliffside  in  anger  for  reasons  you  hope  to  someday  understand  (  you’re  nearly  there  ) .  with  any  luck  ,  they’ll  make  it  out  alive  .  oh   -  if  you  hear  you  only  live  once  by  the  strokes  starting  to  roll  through  the  forest   ?   don’t  worry  .  it’s  just  them  .     ╱     as  penned  by  rosie  ,  twenty2  ,  cst  ,  she/her  .     +     triggers  include  selena  gomez  .

(     ana  de  armas  .  thirty  -  two  .  cis  female  +  she/her  .     )     ——     ❛     currently  associated  with  the  volturi  is  heidi  ,  forks’  very  own  resident  vampire  .  a  local  for  the  past  few  weeks  ,  she’s  often  been  found  to  be  sibylline  and  sycophantic  but  has  a  tendency  to  favour  self  preservation  over  all  else  when  under  pressure  .  currently  aware  of  the  impending  war  ,  heidi’s  always  reminded  people  of  billowing  smoke  from  the  hollow  trunk  of  a  tree  struck  with  lightning  ;  embers  still  tease  at  dry  and  cracked  bark  ,  the  enduring  and  swallowing  of  clytemnestra  until  she  becomes  a  reckoning  ,  thick  fog  chasing  at  your  feet  as  you  navigate  an  endless  garden  (  the  sun  is  setting  and  you  know  you  should  feel  dread  or  fear  but  all  you  can  muster  is  placidity  )  ,  lions  dens  filled  with  the  cracked  and  hollow  bones  and  bloodied  pelts  of  past  prey  ,  ships  sent  out  to  sea  with  uncertain  fate  /  war  or  freedom  await  on  the  other  side  and  you  are  unknowing  as  to  which  will  be  kinder  .  with  any  luck  ,  they’ll  make  it  out  alive  .  oh   -  if  you  hear  feeling  good  by  nina  simone  starting  to  roll  through  the  forest   ?   don’t  worry  .  it’s  just  them  .     ╱     as  penned  by  rosie  ,  twenty2  ,  cst  ,  she/her  .     +     triggers  include  selena  gomez  .

#accepted. #appless rp #new rp #twilight rp #spn rp #submission

[sunflowersupremes]

The Wraith in the Hills: Chapter 2

Arda is a bit too peaceful for the reborn Glorfindel, so when he hears rumors of a wraith-like creature that lives near Bree, he goes on a hunt.

Notes: This takes place in the Third Age, with the canon that Glorfindel wasn’t reembodied until after the end of the Second Age.

Characters: Glorfindel, Elrond, Maeglin, Maglor

Read on AO3

Maeglin drifted in and out of consciousness as they rode, but he was never strong enough to fight back or protest, only to complain and gripe. He would ignore the elf and instead give him bits of food.

Glorfindel kept a brutal pace, often jogging beside the horse to spare it the weight of two riders. But Maeglin was still weakening.

He had slowed the horse to a walk when Maeglin began to gasp, writhing and struggling for air.

“No!” Glorfindel whispered. He jumped out of the saddle and laid the wounded elf on the ground beside him, pressing on his chest to force air into his lungs. “Don’t you dare, you brat,” he said.

But Maeglin remained still.

With nothing else to do, Glorfindel reached for his weak life force, wrapping it in his own and pushing a bit of himself into the weaken elf. “Take it,” he murmured as Maeglin thrashed. “Whatever you need.”

Once Maeglin’s breathing returned to normal, he got him back into the saddle, then jumped up behind him. “Let’s go,” he murmured to his mount.

Having Maeglin leeching off his life force was exhausting, but he could think of no other way to keep the elf alive until Rivendell.

When the valley appeared on the horizon, Glorfindel dismounted and led his horse on foot for the rest of the journey, keeping Maeglin in the saddle with a length of rope.

Elrond met him in the courtyard, giving a curious look to Maeglin, slumped in the saddle.

“The Wraith,” Glorfindel explained.

“Seems to be an elf.”

“Seems to be your damn cousin.” Glorfindel cut the rope that was holding him in place and tugged him off the saddle, catching him before he hit the ground. “You knew,” he accused as Elrond only stood in silence.

“I had my suspicions,” was all the healer would say.

“And didn’t think to warn me?”

Elrond only shrugged.

The fall from the saddle seemed to have woken him, and Maeglin blinked in the light. “No, no,” he mumbled. “Just cut it.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow.

“He wanted me to cut off his arm.” Glorfindel explained, sitting Maeglin on the pavement and glancing over him to make sure he hadn't reopened his arm.

The healer nodded. “Bring him inside.”

When Glorfindel moved to pick him up, Maeglin pushed against him. “I can walk,” he complained, but his words slurred together.

“No, you can’t.”

The injured elf was unconscious by the time they reached the Halls of Healing, and Elrond motioned for Glorfindel to sit him on a bed. “What are his injuries?”

“His leg is an old wound, it just healed poorly. The arm is what worries me.”

Elrond cut away the rest of his shirt, studying the wound thoughtfully. “This is an old wound, the infection is very deep. In the bone, most likely.”

“Can you save it?” Glorfindel asked, covering his nose to hide the stench of rotting flesh.

“Of course I can.” Elrond strode away, messing in cabinets and assembling his supplies. “What have you given him?”

“A sedative to knock him out, but I’ve been using a bit of my own power to keep him asleep since then.” He’d worried that Maeglin was too weak to handle any more medication and that keeping him drugged would kill him.

Elrond nodded, seeming to be of the same assessment. “And siphoning your power to keep him alive?” he guessed.

“He would have died otherwise.”

“I can’t disagree with that assessment.” He sat beside Maeglin, then looked at Glorfindel curiously. “How are you feeling?”

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“I’m going to cut away the infection. If you could keep him calm-”

Glorfindel nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Elrond carefully washed the wound before he began. Glorfindel had to look away as he picked up a pair of delicate scissors and began to cut at the flesh. Maeglin gave a soft moan, and Glorfindel pushed as much energy as he dared into him.

Elrond worked in silence, only pausing occasionally to check on Glorfindel. “How bad is it?” Glorfindel asked, still staring out the window.

“Worse than it smells,” was all Elrond would say.

Finally, when the sun was beginning to dip in the sky, Elrond set his knife aside. “I believe the infection is gone,” he said. “I’ll pack the wound and cover it with bandages. With any luck, it will grow back and he will be able to use it normally.”

“What about his leg?” Glorfindel asked.

“The Wraith has always walked strangely.”

“I’ve seen you do wonders for old injuries.”

Elrond cut away his pants, running an appraising eye over the mangled leg. It looked worse than Glorfindel had expected, the bone clearly jutting at odd angles. “The bone was fractured and set poorly, if at all,” Elrond said. “Limping has damaged the muscles in his ankle and hip.”

“Is there nothing you could do for it?”

The healer frowned. “I could rebreak the leg and attempt to set it properly, then work on softening the muscles, perhaps. But I won’t.”

“Why not?” Glorfindel demanded.

“It’s one thing to save his life without his permission, I’m not about to mess with old wounds just to please you.”

“You didn’t see what I saw,” Glorfindel argued.

“What did you see?”

Glorfindel sighed. “After I knocked him out, I went back to search the cave he’d been living in. To see if he had any possessions.”

“And?”

“His sword and a bit of dried meat.” He shrugged. “When I followed his tracks, it was evident he was struggling. Before I knew who he was - when I thought he was some malformed creature - I contemplated killing him, just to put him out of his misery.”

“While I won’t say his life has been pleasant, I still won’t perform any unneeded surgeries without speaking to him.”

“And if he wants to leave?” Glorfindel asked.

“I’m not a jailer,” Elrond replied. “If you have some grievance against him, that is between you, him, and the Valar-”

“That’s not what this is about!” Glorfindel pushed himself to his feet. “Forget who he is, if he were anyone else-”

“I would still let him choose.” Elrond looked down at Maeglin’s face with a frown. “There was a reason I didn’t tell you what I knew about him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wanted you to leave him there.”

“You think he’s a monster?”

Elrond shook his head. “I think you’re conflicted. You won’t refer to him by name, you won’t look at his face, you won’t admit-”

“That he betrayed me to Morgoth?”

“That,” Elrond said softly. He washed his hands in a bowl of water as he spoke, “I was afraid of what you would do if you found him. If you would leave or harm him, and grow to hate yourself for it, or if you would try to aid him, and be forced to accept defeat.”

“I’m not going to accept defeat.”

“He won’t stay,” Elrond said, turning to give Glorfindel a pitying look. He folded his arms over his chest with a sigh. “I- I don’t advertise this,” he said cagily. “But I am in contact with Kanafinwe rather regularly.”

“Any other secrets you’re keeping?” Glorfindel asked, throwing up his hands. “Do you know where Daeron is, perhaps?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Elrond said, clearly enjoying the frustrated noise Glorfindel made at the admission. “I asked Kanafinwe to look into the Wraith, before I knew what it was.”

“He found him?”

Elrond nodded. “They had a tussle of some sort - someone was stabbed, Kanafinwe was rather hesitant to tell me which of them - and then they sat and talked.”

“One of them was stabbed?” Glorfindel repeated.

Elrond nodded. “As I said, I don’t know which.” He seemed unconcerned, continuing, “Kanafinwe wasn’t pleased when he discovered who he was-”

“Hypocrite.”

“And told him on no uncertain terms to stay away from me. I believe threats of more stabbing and perhaps castration was involved.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “Remind me why people think he’s the gentle one?” he asked.

“Because he wants them to,” Elrond said with a smile.

“So he won’t stay because your kidnapper threatened him?” Glorfindel asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“Oh no,” Elrond said, shaking his head. “He won’t stay because, as he told Kanafinwe, he refuses to have anything to do with the Eldar anymore.”

Glorfindel forced himself to look at Maeglin’s sleeping face, sighing. “So where is Daeron?” he asked finally.

“Lindir,” Elrond said, hiding a smile.

“Can’t be.”

“How would you know? You never met him before your death.”

#elrond #glorfindel #maeglin #silmfic #silmarillion #series: the wraith #my writing

[invernc]

@hunterscfremnant continued from here:

Winter had known that her nightmares would be an issue before she left for the Academy, but she’d never expected to wake anyone up with them. This one, though, was particularly bad, and she couldn’t stop thrashing and whimpering no matter how hard she tried to keep the sounds to herself. “Father, please, I’m sorry...” The words slipped out, and they were quiet but still discernible.

Her eyes shot open hearing the nickname, and the familiar voice of Harriet Bree, one of her...were they teammates? It didn’t quite seem that way. “I’m sorry I woke you.” She said immediately, face flushing with utter embarrassment.

#v: family portrait (younger verse) #v: model student (atlas academy verse) #semi para #hunterscfremnant #harriet

[paperdoe]

| Rhygeir|

Essence

Alias: Rhygeir

Race/class: Skinchanger (Beorning)

Sexuality: Homosexual

Gender: Male

Age: 38

Nature

Autonomous + Determined + Devoted + Resourceful + Patient + Loving

Aloof - Obstinate - Fussy - Indiscreet - Vague

Rhygeir is, at heart, a homebody. Before his calling he was content to tend to his duties around home, sitting on his rocking chair while he watched over his animals. He doesn’t like being uprooted from routines that have been cultivated for a long time. If forced away from that sort of life, will try to forge new ones to help life seem a bit more structured and predictable.                                                                          The skin changer isn’t one to show his emotions. His weathered face shows a constant uninterested or somewhat irate expression. But he is an emotional being, and does care for those he manages to get to know well, and deeply. Despite his stony appearance, there’s a warm glow inside him. Though his affection can be mistaken for annoyance or by being overbearing. He grows attached to people easily, and yet he doesn’t seek company. Perhaps it’’s because he’s afraid of losing those he comes to care for. And yet company manages to find him still.

Rhygeir is a natural, albeit reluctant leader. He knows how to keep order in line ( he won’t admit that raising herds of goats helped with that...) and how to take care of dissent within a group. He doesn’t hesitate to lead the charge when necessary. While Rhygeir the human is, in general, a big softie under the guise of a grump, Rhygeir the bear is a different sort.                                                                                The bear is a much more powerful and larger force on it’s own. His strength and stamina are increased, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of his claws and teeth.  The emotions that come from being human are distant and unnecessary, and his mindset is more feral. But deep down he still knows who he is, and this inhibits him from losing himself completely. But he is prone to lash out easily if startled or angered.

Combat

In human from Rhygeir mainly fights with long handled axes, bringing down enemies in sweeping arcs and forceful hacks through their necks or legs. if the situation grows dire enough, the bear takes over. In this feral mindset he is more unrestrained, fierce, and dangerous. he will thrash, bite, and rake his claws through his foes. Rhygeir is prone to becoming frenzied in battle while in this state, and will desire to unnecessarily flay his enemies until they’re unrecognizable. Friends must be wary of accidentally getting in the crossfires of his animalistic rage.

History

Lived among his kin within and around the Beorningus in the Vales, tending to bee hives and goat herds. (but even then he lived much of his life alone) He had, and still has a talent for wood whittling, and would often make toys for the children. Life was quiet and predictable, just as he preferred. With no one to worry about but himself and his family. Until a certain Brown Wizard changed everything. Evil tidings were coming from the East, and the skin changers would be needed in the coming fight. Rhygeir  was among those chosen to set forth outside the Vales for his determination, resourcefulness, and strength.

Needless to say, Rhygeir wasn’t happy about this. He tried to change Grimbeorn’s mind, exclaiming that he could be of much more use in the Vales, but the patriarch was adamant that he should go.

Frustrated, Rhygeir packed his bags and was directed to travel to Bree land in Eriador to investigate news of a town ransacked by mysterious evil forces. But his heart wasn’t in the mission. He wanted to be back home among his own kind, and the troubles of others didn’t matter to him. However, stories of the plight of the free peoples here slowly started to crack the barriers within his heart. Perhaps they needed someone with his strength and gifts after all. And, albeit with a smaller degree of reluctance, he agreed to follow the tracks of the malevolent forces at work. The thought of being a part of some greater purpose driving him onward. Along the way Rhygeir somehow accumulated a decent group of comrades willing to join him in his quest.

#bio #rhygeir #lotr oc