#Him cracking jokes while teaching her to shoot a rifle

[rosieshipper]

How I feel rn after finishing episode six of the last of us

!Spoilers in the tags!

#this episode fucking gutted me #so many things made me fucking sob #daddy issues are also not helping #spoilers from here on out #Joel crying because he feels like he’s gonna fail and lose Ellie #Joel being so afraid of losing her that he feels like he can’t take care of her #the fucking argument killed me #then the little fucking sequence with Joel and Ellie bonding while they ride to Colorado #HER LEANING HER HEAD ON HIS FUCKING BACK WHEN THEYRE RIDING TOGETHER #Joel being so fucking soft with her #Him cracking jokes while teaching her to shoot a rifle #‘first time seeing a monkey?’ ‘first time seeing a monkey’ #Joel getting fucking stabbed and Ellie being so scared #The fucking cliffhanger with Joel falling off the horse and Ellie being scared #I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep now because I have to wait another week for this shit #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #tommy miller #maria miller #ellie williams #ellie miller #pedro pascal #bella ramsey

[bellamyblake]

hi! i read your single dad fic but i was wondering if you could share some of your kane and bellamy fic again like before? i Love the premise there

Hey! Sorry for being late with that! 

I’m so glad you enjoy this story, even though it’s not even posted! 

I made Bellamy and Madi meet in physical therapy, so maybe some of that?

“Sorry that I’m running a bit late.” she glances at the mom who just shakes her head, trying to tell her there’s nothing to apologize for “How are you doing today, kiddo?”

“Splendid.” Madi answered grumpily keeping her eyes on Bellamy who straightens himself and tries to sit up better “Who’s that?”

“That’s Seargant First class Bellamy Blake.” Clarke explains and Bellamy nods at the kid softly “I think I told you about him when we worked on your flexibility the other day.”

“Oh...right. The stubborn one.” Bellamy groans at that a little.

“Careful, kid, I can still use a bazooka if I want to.” he jokes and Madi gives him a devilish look at that, smirking slightly.

“Is that so?” she crosses her arms over her chest “I’d like to see you try.”

“You just wait, princess here will get me on my feet and I’ll be able to outrun you.”

“Me first!” Madi barks back and Bellamy chuckles leaning over and stretching his hand out for the kid to take which she surprisingly for her mom, Clarke and Lincoln, she takes

“Bellamy.”

“Madi.” she shakes it hard and he winces a little but so does she and he doesn’t miss the way she stretches out her left leg shaking it a little as if trying to get rid of the discomfort “Clarke talks about you a lot.”

“She does?” Bellamy cocks an eyebrow at Clarke and finds her cheeks red “Knew you fancied me, princess. Can’t resist my charms, huh?” Clarke groans and makes both Bellamy and Madi chuckle, even Lincoln cracks a small smile.

“I think you got a shot, but you may need me to teach you a trick or two before you ask her out.”

“Madi-” her mom warns but the kid just rolls her eyes.

“That’s okay, I know she’s just joking around.”

“Well, I’m not.” Bellamy counters and focuses back on the kid while Clarke blushes even worse “I’m game, kid.” Madi nods and smiles again, that devilish sweet smirk as she leans back on her chair and rests her hands against her middle.

“What do I get out of it?”

“Are you two really bargaining me and my habits here?” Clarke tries to sound appalled but she’s smiling just as amused as they were, knowing they were just two kids, despite their differences, bound by the same pain, same struggles, joking around but the two of them ignore her, eyes pinned on each other.

“What do you want, kid?”

“Are you really in the Army?”

“I was, now I’m a veteran.” he gestures at his wrecked body and crooked leg and Madi nods, but she’s the first person he doesn’t find pity in their eyes when he talks about himself. “Why do you ask?”

“Did you really shoot a rifle?” he chuckles at that.

“I drove a tank, kid, I would say shooting a rifle is what I do for breakfast.” her eyes grow wide but she juts her chin and leans back on her wheelchair again, arms crossed.

“You’re lying.”

“Am not!” by that point both Lincoln and Clarke were smiling at them with amusement. “I can prove it.”

“How, you’re gonna hop up in one, grandpa?”

“Hey-”

#bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #madi #bellamy and kane fic #tho kane is not present here #answered #Anonymous

[chartedrights]

black friday,,,,, gold rush au,,,,,,,,,,

Oh my god okay first of all? Your mind

Second of all- worth mentioning on this post-independence day that the California Gold Rush was in fact the impetus for the California Genocide and the displacement of the indigenous Californian population. They didn’t teach us that in fourth grade, but I figured I’d tell you. California has a long and terrible history regarding its treatment of the indigenous people who lived here before us, and I’d recommend googling California Genocide or the Spanish Mission System if you want some increased awareness there.

Frank Pricely stole so much fucking land. He probably started out owning about half of the area and has slowly been selling off plots to people looking for gold. He knows it’s a lost cause looking for gold himself, but who is he to deny people their wishes? He gets their money either way. Doesn’t matter what happens to them afterwards. He scams so many people out of their money by telling them that their patch of land is the best, the finest, the one with the most gold.

Lex and Hannah and Ethan came out from Hatchetfield, running away from home in hopes of striking it rich in the gold fields. The story begins with them making it to California, after a long journey from the other side of the country

Think Trail to Oregon but much less fun

They truly are CaliforMIA this time

Lex has been scoping out Frank’s land for a few days now, secretly, playing the system by checking until she finds a particular patch of land with gold in the water… and buys it from Frank immediately, doing her best not to give away why she wants it.

Linda came out from New York with her husband and her four beautiful blonde boys several years ago, back when it wasn’t even US territory, because Gerald’s debts were hounding them. Linda runs a boarding house for those looking for gold while Gerald searches, fruitlessly, for gold himself. Though their debtors lost track of them somewhere around the Sierras, he’s still afraid. Linda’s just glad he’s not near her all the time.

And then Frank Pricely strikes gold under his own house, on the one plot of land he won’t sell, and everyone starts to wonder. He won’t tell, but people whisper that a man in denim left his house the night before, walked out into the dark and disappeared.

Every man in denim is hounded, begged, for their luck, for their blessing, please sir, please, I have a family, I have debts, I have a girl back home-

But it was no ordinary man Frank made a deal with.

Wiley is a thing that looks like a man until the lantern light hits him just right and his eyes shine like a deer’s, until the moonlight hits his profile just right and his face looks *too* perfect to be human, until he smiles and his teeth are just a little too sharp and a little too shiny. But he’ll grant your wish, alright. He’ll make your dreams come true. You’ll have years aplenty to enjoy your good fortune, your riches and your health and your family. But he’ll be back, when your time is up, and he’ll be smiling then, too, with sharp and shining teeth.

Wiley comes to people and whispers secrets in their ears, invites them to makes deals with him, meets people lingering at the crossroads and leads them down a dark and winding path. He is not a man, and he is not a spirit, and he is not kind.

Linda makes a deal with him, and in return he organizes circumstances so that the 49ers begin to worship her- everyone who does right by her has better luck, does better at cards, eats better, sleeps better, has better luck with the ladies- people notice. It’s a joke, just casually at first, cracks about her being their patron saint, about her being unrealistically beautiful, about how god blessed Miss Linda Monroe (and it’s always Miss, never Misses), and then more and more and more until the whole town seems to be in her grip.

Tom came out to California a year ago, just after Jane died. Tim is back in Hatchetfield with Emma, (who is doing her best to keep him alive as the Apotheosis occurs), and Tom has been looking for gold and catharsis out in the hills. He hasn’t found much, but maybe one day, he tells himself. Maybe one day. Soon. And then Tim can come out to be with him.

Becky has just come West, hoping to help keep the diseases in miners’ camps and towns like these to a minimum, helping anyone she can. Anyone who’ll let her, which sadly isn’t very many people. She’s running, from her husband or his ghost, who can say, but she is most certainly running.

Becky is the first person in three years to challenge Linda’s cult-like rule, and it stirs tensions. Eventually everything comes to a head, and riots begin to break out- some people blame Frank for their misfortune and the lack of gold on their land. He flees the town, leaving Linda the sole “authority” figure.

John makes his way into town like any other ‘49er, and the only reason he and Lex even meet is because she’s come to get her first gold harvest authenticated in town. He admits that he’s come out looking for the man who killed his mentor, that he knows he’s out in the hills somewhere.

Lex wishes him luck, and he hands her a scrap of paper with his name and PEIP’s address. She doesn’t think much of it.

The gold is real, of course, and word soon spreads that somebody is getting all the good luck, that somebody is cheating everyone else of the gold, that somebody is stealing it-

That night, at something which resembles a cult meeting but which is billed as a “party”, Linda points out Lex and Ethan specifically as the people in possession of the lucky land, and later that same night Ethan is murdered by some cultists in pursuit of the deed- for themselves, for Linda, as if the distinction matters.

Hannah has it, though, not Ethan, and she runs deep into the sparse woods, hoping to find Lex.

Tom and Becky take shelter in a half-finished theater, long-deserted. They watch the stars and listen to the screams, the breaking glass, the destruction raging outside. They find solace in each other, something they’d thought they would never have again.

Becky resolves to go out and take care of the wounded, and Tom agrees to help her.

Wilbur finds John first, though. John is notably shaken by the revelation that Wiley didn’t just take Wilbur’s soul, he didn’t just take his life- he stole his face as well. “A handsome face, isn’t it?” Wiley says, admiring it in the reflection off John’s revolver. “Immensely pleasing to the eye.” He catches John’s gaze, and it becomes clear that whatever John was, whoever he is, Wiley is stronger.

John dies. It is horrible. It is loud. Hannah hears it from miles away.

Lex is found by Sherman, who overpowers her. He forces her to call for Hannah, to help him look for her on the plot of land belonging to her and Ethan, but Lex tries to break free.

Wiley is the first person Tom and Becky find, and when they roll his (apparently) broken body onto its back, he grins up at Tom, who freezes. He simply stops, and even as Becky is knocked out and dragged away, Tom is mesmerized. He can’t look away. He can’t even think.

Caught by a few cultists who hadn’t attended the meeting, Hannah is walked into town, deed in hand, and brought to Linda.

There is another struggle, on the banks of the only river where gold has been found. Sherman holds Lex’s head underwater. Her eyes are so wide, open in the stream, and she’s screaming and screaming under the water but nobody hears and she can taste the gold, the dirt, the blood-

And then she can see John, just standing there looking up at her, as if the river was so much deeper, offering his revolver to her. She reaches and reaches and her bloody fingers just brush against it and it’s dry in her hand when she pulls it from the water and levels it at Sherman. She breathes cold air and pulls the trigger.

Tom is about to make a deal with Wiley when she finds him, arm outstretched to shake on it. She begs him not to, tells him that Wiley can’t be trusted, that he’s evil- but Tom just looks at her with glazed-over eyes and says “He can give me my Jane back.”

“She wouldn’t be your Jane,” Lex says, pleading, as Wiley just grins and grins and grins. “She’d be his Jane, and he could take her away again. She’s dead, Mr. Houston. Your wife is dead, and I’m sorry, but this isn’t the way to fix that. You have a son,” she begs. “Please- please, don’t abandon him.”

And Tom looks at the outstretched hand, offering gold and ghosts, and he turns away.

Tom picks up a rifle from one of the fallen cultists and Lex tucks away her revolver, and they fight their way to the Monroe hostel, where Linda is holding court with her cult. Becky is still unconscious, Hannah is in near-hysterics at the loss of the thing her sister and Ethan entrusted her with.

Lex steals back the deed to the land they bought from Frank, and holds it up, strikes a match off the railing and holds it up to the deed. “This is just a piece of fucking paper,” she yells. “It’s just fucking metal! It doesn’t matter!” Linda screams, making a mad rush for Lex just as the match touches the deed. She and Lex struggle for a moment, and the deed flutters, flaming, to the ground.

Awake now, Becky stumbles to her feet, watches people flee the building, sees the discarded rifle where it was knocked from Tom’s hands.

Becky takes the rifle, one shot loaded and no second chances, and she aims it with keen eyes at Linda, where Lex has her pinned to a stalemate. She thinks of the Hippocratic oath, thinks of the words “do no harm,” thinks of all the people who have died today. She shoots.

Linda falls, bleeding, from the balcony, and Wiley disappears into the wind as the camp burns, as the Monroe hostel burns, as the rivers shine with blood and golden fire.

The fire spreads. Lex and Hannah meet Tom and Becky downstairs, make their way outside. California weeps smoke, and the other campers refuse to leave their plots, die standing charred-black skeletons that grin out at the world from their useless, greedy posts.

Becky leans on Tom’s shoulder, his arm around her waist as they stumble home with the girls.

The rest of it can wait until the morning.

#long post #starkid #black friday #tgwdlm #hatchetfield #gold rush au #asks #replies #HEY SO I LOVE THIS A LOT #IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG #THE VISUALS ARE CHEF’S KISS

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Meeting Miss Morgan | Word Count: 1962 | Rating (for entire fic): 18+!!!

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female OC | Chapter: 08 of 08 | Link to Masterlist

"You know, I was furious when I came back here and found that my men couldn't even raid one little farm," Carter says. "But bringing you back sure made up for it."

Julie watches the so-called leader of the gang who took her. He's just as dumb and unwashed as the rest of them, and she wants nothing more than kicking his ugly face in. "Go to hell."

Carter laughs. "Oh, we'll see who's going to hell tonight, sweetheart. My men kept an eye on that little farm of yours. Seems like the one guy who actually knows how to shoot left and isn't coming back."

Julie's heart drops. She knows the only reason the raiders turned tail was John. Mr. Henderson has a rifle and isn't afraid to use it for protection, but he's not exactly a good shot. Why would John leave when he has to know that the raiders might try again? All Julie can hope for is that John went to catch the sheriff. That's the only hope they have.

Still, Julie doesn't want to give Carter the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. "Maybe he got bored. My grandma shoots better than any of you degenerates."

Carter's face turns red, and he hits her. Julie can feel her dried lip split and tastes her own blood. "I'm gonna teach you some manners, missy," Carter growls.

Julie is ready to bite, spit, and claw. Whatever is needed to get this man away from her. He grabs her hair, but before he can do anything, several shots cracks outside. 

"What the-?" Carter growls before a bullet hits the wall close to him. 

He curses and crouches down before moving to one of the windows, looking outside. From her position, Julie can see some of the raiders topple over. Someone is attacking them at full force, and there doesn't seem to be much they can do about it.

Julie hopes that it's the police. If another gang is waging war against the raiders, her lookout isn't much better. For now, she tries to stay low to prevent any stray bullets from hitting her. Carter keeps cursing while firing out of the window.

The fight is raging on for a while, but then it gets quieter. "Son of a bitch," Carter curses when he notices he's out of bullets.

He moves over to Julie in a hurry, drawing his knife. He's able to put it against her throat right before the door flies open, a tall, dark figure looming in the entrance, the light from outside making it hard to see his features.

"Don't come closer," Carter screeches. "Or I'll kill her."

The man in the door leans over, checking on Julie. "Hitting her not enough for you?"

Julie freezes, knowing the voice all too well. "Arthur?" she gasps.

Arthur takes a step closer, and Carter presses the knife to her throat. "Look, this whore was asking for it. Doesn't mean we can't be civilized about this."

"Let her go," Arthur says, "I'm not gonna ask twice."

Carter's breath goes heavy behind Julie, and she can't help but enjoy that he's scared shitless. Arthur, on the other hand, is standing before them, steady as a rock. He holds up his gun for a moment before slipping it back in its holster. Shifting behind her, Carter seems to make up his mind. He drags her up from the chair, moving towards Arthur.

"Alright, alright," he says, "you take her, and we all go our separate ways. How about that?"

They move closer, and suddenly, Carter shoves Julie aside and attacks Arthur instead. Arthur manages to sway to one side, Carter's knife cutting up his arm instead of hitting his chest. He doesn't even flinch, let alone move away. Instead, he grabs Carter by the collar while he takes out his gun.

Without a word, Arthur puts it to Carter's throat and pulls the trigger. Julie can see the damage done to Carter's head, blood spraying Arthur, getting him even dirtier. As Carter's body drops to the floor, Arthur turns around and makes a weak attempt to wipe his face clean, but the truth of what he did is all over him.

Julie has seen how many men have been in this camp. For a day, she heard them talking, joking, and singing. Even at night, there have been noises. Now, it's dead quiet. Arthur killed all these men to get to her. Julie knows she should be appalled or worried, but all she can think about is that Arthur came back for her, and her heart is about to burst.

Arthur goes to his knees, his impressive frame somehow shrinking to a less intimidating size. "Are you alright?"

"I'm now," Julie says and reaches for him.

The horror and fear of the last two days finally leave her body as Arthur takes her into his arms. He lifts her up, and Julie doesn't even care about the dirt and blood. She buries her face against his chest and rests her hands against his warm skin as if to make sure he's real.

"Please don't leave again," she whispers.

Arthur hugs her closer to his chest and leans in to kiss her forehead. "I'll stay with you, I promise."

Julie's eyes fall shut, the exhaustion of the last two days finally settling in. She hears John's voice from far away, but then everything goes dark.

------------

Julie has slept through the night and stays in bed until the afternoon for Mrs. Henderson's sake. Then she gets up, too restless and a little worried that Arthur might leave while she's asleep.

She's closing the last buttons on her shirt when there's a knock on the door. "Come in," she says, ready to fight Mrs. Henderson. There's no way she'll stay in bed a second longer.

The door opens, and Julie's surprised to find Arthur peaking in. "Mind if I come in?"

"No, not at all."

Arthur opens the door entirely but stays there and leans against the frame. He's wearing the shirt he bought in town, and Julie's embarrassed that he knows now that she kept it.

"Heard somewhere that you might be up already," Arthur says.

Julie rolls her eyes with a sigh. "I don't care who she sends in here, I'm not staying in bed for another minute."

"You won't hear any argument from me," Arthur says, raising his hands in defense.

Talking to him like this makes Julie's heart ache, and although her body is perfectly fine, she still sits down on the bed, unsure she can keep upright during the rest of the conversation.

"Is this the next goodbye?" she asks, not able to pretend that she hasn't thought about this the second she woke up.

Arthur looks down at his hands before walking into the room. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Julie holds her breath when Arthur sits down next to her. In that second, she seems to remember every touch and kiss they shared, every moment when it was normal to sit like this. Despite her fears, sitting next to Arthur gives her so much comfort. She doesn't want to miss that.

"I want to stay on the farm," Arthur says. "Unless you have any objections. Then I'd find a place nearby, just in case."

Julie's heart pounds faster, but she doesn't dare to hope that things could go back to how they were before. "In case of what? I mean, what changed your mind?"

Arthur looks out of the window, his face full of a pain that can't come from his wounds. "When I was a lot younger, I spend a night with a waitress. It was just stupid half-drunken fun, but she got pregnant."

Julie's breath hitches. She imagined Arthur's past many times, but just like she's never seen him as an outlaw, she's never pictured him as a father either. "So, you have a child?"

"I had," Arthur says, his voice cracking. "The girl, Eliza, she didn't ask for anything, but every few months, I would visit her and our son. I gave them money, played a little with Isaac. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You tried to provide for them," Julie says, but Arthur huffs.

"I did the bare minimum and told myself how great I was for doing so, while I actually let them down," Arthur says, the anger at himself evident in his voice. "The last time I rode out to them, there were two crosses in front of the house. They got killed over 10 lousy bucks, and I wasn't there."

"I'm so sorry, Arthur," Julie says, her heart going out to that poor woman and her child. She puts her hand on Arthur's, both of them sitting in silence.

It only now occurs to Julie how lucky she was. If it wasn't for Arthur and John, those men could have done horrible things to her. She could still be a prisoner or dead. 

"Thank you for coming back for me," she says, and Arthur finally turns to her.

"I know I don't deserve to ask anything from you, but I don't want to make the same mistakes again," Arthur says. "I can't go away knowing that something might happen to you while I'm not there. I want to do better this time."

Julie considers him for a moment, and she believes him, but if she's honest with herself, it's not enough. "Do you want to be there to protect me, or do you want to be with me? Because I can't take more of this back and forth."

"I don't deserve-" Arthur begins, but Julie interrupts him.

"You don't deserve me? Why? Because you did bad things in your past?" Julie huffs. "I've talked to John and Abigail. And I've seen that you've also done a whole lot of good. You're trying to redeem yourself, and I want to be with you more than anything. Don't you want me?"

"Jesus Jules, of course, I want to be with you," Arthur says, his voice desperate. "I love you."

Silence falls between them. Julie's heart wants to jump out of her chest, and Arthur looks like he's about to pass out after what he just said. Taking a deep breath, Julie puts her arms around Arthur's neck. "And I love you, so would you just stop hating yourself for one second and kiss me?"

Arthur puts his arms around her, his expression so sheepish that Julie almost has to laugh. "Mrs. Henderson will tear me into pieces, won't she?"

Julie smiles. "Don't worry, I'll put you back together."

Arthur pulls her close and kisses her, and Julie can't help but melt against him. It feels like coming home after a long day, finally at peace. Julie takes Arthur's face into her hands and resting her forehead against his, she caresses his beard with her thumb. "Promise me something."

"Hm?"

"We're in this now. If you doubt yourself, just talk to me," Julie says. "Don't change your mind halfway through."

"I won't," Arthur says, redness tainting his cheeks. He carefully gets out of Julie's grip to reach into his pocket, handing her a folded piece of paper. It looks weathered, as if he had it for a while and always kept it on him.

Julie unfolds it to find a drawing of herself. It's in such detail that it looks more like a photograph, and she can't believe that Arthur could draw this from memory. At the top, the date tells Julie that Arthur made this the day after he left with John. In the right bottom corner of the page is a small note written in Arthur's intricate handwriting.

Jules - the one I should have married

#my writing

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Yo demons! It’s me, ya girl, back at it again with more of the epic gay disaster romance that is the Shiro/Kogane and McClain siblings!

Krolia is endlessly frustrated as to why her stupid kids won’t just be straight forward with their equally stupid crushes.

Keith: (half jokingly) We physically can’t.

Krolia: Listen here you little shits...

Meanwhile, Mama McClain keeps trying to invite them over for dinner so that she can properly meet her children’s significant others.

Repeatedly, Adam, Veronica, and Lance have to tell her that they aren’t together...yet.

Mama McClain: Well hurry up will you, I wanna meet my future children-in-laws

Lance, Veronica, & Adam: Mama! O///O

After the whole epic battle with the Galra it takes Adam and Shiro a whole two months to properly talk to each other.

Not that they haven’t before but it was usually all business in a room full of other people. And even when they were alone it was for no more then five minutes, either discussing their next plan of attack or sitting in awkward silence.

It was their siblings that kept pushing them to talk to each other because although it was funny to see them fumbling around it was much more painful to see their older brothers still in love but feel too guilty to ever think the other would forgive them.

They started off with small hellos at the coffee station in the cafeteria which slowly escalated into small talk in the halls, cracking jokes during meetings, then finally The Big Talk.

It was all very emotional but that does not mean it fixed everything immediately. It was a good foundation to start fixing thing and getting back to were they use to be. Sure it wouldn’t be the same as before but it would be stronger with a better understanding of each other.

Before Kerberos, when they were still cadets in training and would sometimes be sent to separate training camps, they would write letters to each other. Since, during the training camps no electronics would be aloud letter became a special sort of comfort for them even after they completed training.

After escaping Galra imprisonment and finding the Castle of Lions Shiro began writing letters to Adam everyday. Even though he couldn’t send them he kept them safe so that if one day they returned back to earth he’d be able to give them to Adam himself.

Meanwhile, back on earth, Adam did the same, writing since the day Shiro left to Kerberos until the day he came back.

Shiro gives Adam his first letter after their Talk and Adam almost breaks down crying then and their before rushing back to his dorm and bringing back a letter of his own.

Shiro does break down crying

From then on they start exchanging letters everyday, slowly learning more about each other during their time apart and how it impacts them now.

Obviously, with the whole timey wimey bullshit that happened Adam has more letters to give but that doesn’t mean Shiro’s letters were less treasured.

Shiro, reading Adam’s letter: But honestly if Veronica hadn’t kicked Sanda’s ass I probably would of thrown hands too.

Shiro: (dreamy sigh)

Acxa & Keith: ???

Adam, reading Shiro’s letter: Never did I think I’d become a dysfunctional single father of five plus Coran until after we got married but here we are.

Adam: (fond smile)

Veronica & Lance: wtf???

Allura helps build a new training room for the Galaxy Garison and of course the Shiro/Kogane siblings flock to it like moths to a flame.

Which of course attracts the McClain siblings who secretly drool over them by the sidelines.

And by secrete I mean everyone notices except Shiro, Acxa, and Keith.

And of course Lance, being the chaotic disaster bisexual that he is, has a brilliant plan...

Lance, bursting into the training room: Keith! I bet my sister can beat up your sister!

Veronica, with a death glare directed right at Lance letting him know he’s a dead man: Lance!

Keith, a disaster gay and also a little shit: You’re on!

Acxa, a confused space lesbian: Excuse me?!

So it turns out that all the McClains are proficient in long range shooting weapons which they can also perfectly use in close range combat.

Keith knew this, Acxa did not :)

So Acxa ends up on the floor with Veronica straddled over her, her legs pinning her arms down while she has her practice rifle aimed at Acxa’s face.

Veronica, laughing and breathless as she is still straddled over Acxa: Not bad, you’re actually a bit of a challenge unlike the rest of these losers here.

Adam & Lance: Hey!

Acxa: Acxa.exe has stopped working...

Shiro and Keith tease Acxa relentlessly afterward until she starts chasing them around the base with her spear.

Veronica kicked Lance is as in the training simulator repeatedly as pay back while Adam laughed at them from a safe distance.

Afterward, Acxa always asks Veronica to train with her under the context that: she’s trained under the guidance of elite Galra generals her whole life only to be easily taken down by a human. Clearly there was a flaw in their method so what better way to beat them then to learn from an expert.

Keith: *cough* Bullshit *cough*

And obviously Veronica accepts because since they’re allies maybe she could learn a thing or two about Galran combat which will help prepare them for another attack in the future.

Lance: *cough* Baloney *cough*

So they start meeting up twice a week to practice, even if Veronica is packed full with work she’ll MAKE time to go to practice. She usually skips out on all the useless boring meetings because fuCK YOU ADMIRAL SANDA! There’s a cute alien girl waiting for me to teach her how to do a triple flip while shooting a gun mid air and I am not about to waste my time here when I could be impressing her with my mad skills.

And yes, Acxa was very impressed (and very flustered).

So while all this is going on Keith and Lance are on the sidelines snickering to each other like “lol our siblings are so dorky and dumb pinning for each other like that. It’s so obvious that their into each other but are too dense to notice. Like how stupid is that!”

Hunk and Pidge: look into the camera like in The Office

To be continued.......maybe???

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #keith #lance #klance #shiro #adam #adam voltron #shadam #veronica voltron #veronica #acxa #veracxa #pidge #hunk #stupid gay romance #voltron headcanons #siblings au

[badgerpride96]

A Wild West Experience Part 6

Finally Part 6! And Finally Kelly gets to meet Sass and start at the Bar! I really liked this chapter. The Goose was designed with several different places in mind, and Sass obviously loves the bar more than anything, so I hope that comes through. Part 7 to come soon!

“Hey Sass!” Owen called out. “An outlaw and a sheriff walk into a bar!”

“And?” Elek’s voice yelled from the kitchen.

“And they waited for the beautiful bartender to show his face!” Gio called back. Pippin came running from around the bar at Gio’s voice.

“Oh a dog!” Kelly cried, dropping to kneel to Pippin’s height and holding out her hand. Pippin froze, eyeing the unfamiliar hand. His nose did quick work, twitching furiously. After a moment, the verdict was handed down. The dog trotted forward to grant Kelly several licks to the face. She tilted her head back, laughing and fluffing the scruff of Pippin’s neck.

Gio smiled, glancing up to look around the bar. It was still fairly empty: a few passing ranchers and cowboys, some travellers, old regulars. No one seemed to be paying the scene much attention, except for the man standing in the doorway behind the bar, wiping his hands on a rag. He stared quite intently as his dog wiggled in the outlaw’s arms. He caught Gio’s eye, nodded slightly, and maneuvered his way around the bar.

“Pippin,” Sass called as he reached them. “Easy, boy. Sit.”” The dog sat, but didn’t leave Kelly’s grasp. Elek noted this with a twitch of his eyebrows and the beginning of a smile. “Mornin, Gio, ma’am.”

“Mornin, Sass,” Gio said, patting Elek on the back. Kelly gave Pippin a final pat and gracefully rose. She brushed off her bluejeans and new grey linen shirt and put out her hand. “Kelly Rose, pleased to meet you.” Elek’s eyebrows raised, but he smiled and shook her hand. “Elek Sasway, pleasure is mine. Have you seen the bar before?”

“Never, but I look forward to seeing it every day,” she said, obviously trying to get on the reserved bartender’s good graces. He offered his arm, which she took, and they set off on the grand tour of the bar. Gio, quite forgotten, sat down next to Owen.

The doors of the Goose were the traditional double swing doors. They led inside from a small porch, mostly used for Pippin’s naps. Past the doors, the bar opened up into a large space, with 15 tables, organized in the middle of the floor. The space was rectangular, all the tables occupying the middle square, flanked by pool tables and card tables. Then, there was the bar.

The back wall of the bar was a mirrored glass plate. All the shelves had been carefully bored into this. Sass had put in glass windows along the side walls, and the light coming through these was reflected off the glass and into the bar space. Rows of bottles glinted along the mirrored wall, as if to say, “Come now, stay, sip a while. You have nowhere better to be.” But even more eye-catching than this was the bar-top itself.

No one knew where the original owner had gotten the bar-top, but everyone agreed it was a work of beauty. Made of stained glass set in amber, the mosaic depicted rolling hills leading to the ocean. The sheer number of glass shards used created a sense of the grass actually rolling in the wind. The waves seemed just about to crash and toss spray into your drink. The light scattered itself across the tinted glass, eddying in the amber, so that the ocean’s sun-pennies came to life. There were those who had never seen the true ocean, but having had a drink at the Galloping Goose, could imagine it perfectly.

Elek led his new barhand out the door to the right of the bar. Outside, enormous tables and benches lined the patio Elek and Gio had built. Canvas stretched overhead, casting shade over the beer garden. It was getting hot again, however, so the two of them didn’t linger.

They took a poke around the kitchen, then went out the back to the smoke house. Elek had a sausage special every week, always served with a Bavarian style pretzel from Trenton’s bakery. He gestured to the smokehouse.

“Ye probably won’t be usin this this much, but for getting cheese and -”

CRACK

A gunshot echoed off the walls, causing them both to jump in surprise. Kelly flashed a hand to her hip, only to remember her weapons were in lock up. Her first thought was that they’d caught up with her, they were taking potshots, or else she’d been set up and Haven was collecting her bounty. Her vision began to close in, her breathing shortened-

“It’s alright,” Elek’s steady voice came from the dark. “It’s only Ronin.”

“I...what?” Kelly coughed and blinked several times. She sincerely hoped the bartender hadn’t noticed her fright. They rounded the corner of the smoke house and saw a young man holding a rifle, aiming at a row of sausages hanging from a frame. He took aim again, and after a moment of calibration, took another shot. A middle sausage dropped into the bucket below, its string severed neatly in half. Elek swept out his arm in a grand gesture. “Ronin.”

The young man, hearing his name, turned and tipped his hat. “Hullo Sass, ma’am.”

Kelly smiled, but couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Why are you shooting at sausages?”

“They’re the bits leftover from the last week, ma’am. I’m practicin hitting the moving strings, I’m hopin to win the shootin prize ‘round here so as I might go to university, y’see. Boy from Haven won a few years back, went to school and he said it was eye-openin.”

“I see.” Kelly said, extending her hand for Ronin to shake. “And what you hopin to find when your eyes are opened?”

Ronin laughed. “I’m hopin to study history, ma’am. It’s said that T Roosevelt is writin a history of the war of 1812. I think that would be right fascinatin, don’t you?”

“Well I would, perhaps you might tell me of your studies, I feel sure you’ll win. How old are you?”

“Seventeen, ma’am.”

“Children, studying their elders.” Kelly mused. “How poetic.”

“Ronin is the most skilled apprentice of gunsmithin we have,” Elek put in. “He’s testin the action on my rifle there, at my request.”

“Sass is bein right generous. I’m very thorough, that’s all.”

“Nonsense,” Elek waved the humility away. “He’s the best.” Ronin inclined his head in thanks.

“I look forward to seeing you around the bar, Ronin,” Kelly told him warmly. Elek tipped his hat to the other man and began to steer Kelly back to the bar.

“Are you helpin in the Goose now, ma’am?”

“Yes, I will be,” Kelly said, half turning back. Ronin cracked a grin.

“Well then Haven is certainly a lucky place!”

Kelly laughed and waved with her free hand. She and Elek arrived back in the bar, where she acquired her half-apron, and he began to teach her how to make simple drinks. He even told her he had one or two bottles of vodka, from a Russian man who’d been touring America.

“I almost never have a cause to pour it,” Elek told her. “Gin is far superior.”

“Oh! But haven’t you had it?”

“What, vodka?”

“Yes! My husband brought back several bottles from his travels. It’s marvellous.”

“If you say so, Miss Kelly,” he said with a smile.

“You don’t believe me now, but mark my words, one day America will come to love vodka,” Kelly insisted, shaking a muddler at him.

He put his hands up and just barely stopped himself from joking “Don’t shoot!” She saw it, saw him realize his mistake. Her face turned red and she set the muddler down. Past her head, Elek noticed Gio and Owen watching them. Seeing that he saw, they quickly went back to loud conversation.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Elek stuttered to a stop.

“Mr...ah, Elek,” Kelly said quietly. “Would you mind if we discussed something in an area more private?”

“Yes, of course.” He led the way back to the kitchen, where they were alone. He pulled two stools from a cupboard and dusted them with his rag. She sat on one, her hands nervously fiddling with her sleeve buttons.

“I did not kill him,” she blurted out. Elek was so caught off guard he nearly missed his stool. “Elek, I hope I may call you that, I know you have reservations about me workin in your establishment. But all I can do is ask you to give me the benefit of regardin me as innocent till proven guilty.”

Elek looked down at his hands. “Miss Kelly, I must tell you that I do not yet fully trust you. The sheriff is an old friend of mine, almost my brother. If he trusts you, I will give you that benefit, but I cannot be fully at ease.”

She nodded, the corner of her mouth twitching almost imperceptibly. “That is all I can expect, I suppose. I had imagined Haven as somewhere I wouldn’t want to ever be. Your reputation is somewhat poor in my town. You take in all kinds, and people think that means there is no law at all in Haven. But in my town there is too much law and no order. So right now, Haven seems like the place to be.”

Elek gave a half-chuckle. “Haven isn’t a place anyone wants to go. We do take in all kinds, and then we treat them with respect. Anywhere else, criminals, outcasts, and undesirables would be jailed or worse with no second thought. But we give trials for the criminals with a jury of their peers, and take in and care for those who come here out of need. Gio’s an excellent sheriff, and it’s always as fair as possible. But you end up in Haven. It takes you in when you need it, and eventually you don’t know how you’d ever leave.”

Kelly was looking at him with an almost heartbreaking hope in her eyes. He was trying; he simply was afraid to trust this woman. She seemed too sincere to be real. Gio trusted her, he didn’t discount that. But he looked at her, and resisted the urge to wince at her hope. “Miss Kelly, I would like to trust you. Give me a better reason than your word, and you’ll have the Gallopin Goose at your back.”

“Is the might of a goose a fearful force?” She joked.

“You’d be surprised.”

–

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-–

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#writing #A wild west experience #badger scribbles

[ohreadermine]

[log] the arc sword problem

Tau/Virlask - pre-relationship, pre-ketch. The two are still meandering around the cosmodrome Hive-hunting and having big awful crushes on each other.

The rhythm of battle still sings strong in Virlask’s mind, concentrated ether running through his body. His scorch cannon is hot and overheated, but if it breaks firing its last two rockets, Virlask knows it would have been worth it to see two of the five Hive Knights go down. He takes a quick glance around the cavern, assessing, and sees Tau fire the last round of his own rocket launcher into a Witch.

Virlask remembers the last steady three-bursts of pulse rifle ammunition, the staccato of an auto rifle—Tau hasn’t taken the time to reload any of his guns, running them dry one after another. The risk is nearly as great as the reward; he is a constant whirlwind of damage, right until he has no more bullets to fire

There’s a faint irritation Virlask feels, being tuned to the way Tau likes to fight. He knows Tau likes to keep a steady pace, doesn’t matter slow or fast, as long as he’s always in constant motion.

Tau draws back his arm, one last blow into the Witch’s abdomen to finish her off. There is a Knight towards his right. Tau’s hands are empty except for blood.

Virlask doesn’t think. He draws out one of his shock swords before Tau can unholster his gun.

“Tau. At left, sword ready.”

Tau’s comm gives an audio cue of acknowledgement. He puts his back towards the Knight, turning to Virlask, bloodied hand reaching out. Virlask tosses him the shock sword.

“Do you know how to use it?” Virlask asks, even before Tau catches it.

Tau whirls around and cleaves the sword across the Knight’s chest. The angle is odd, but the brute strength behind it causes the Knight to stagger back. Tau’s voice is harsh over Virlask’s channel; “Yes.”

It’s a sufficient answer, along with the proof. Virlask fires the second to last rocket from his scorch cannon. The Knight disintegrates, and Tau doesn’t break rhythm. They continue the fight.

About one more Knight and ten thralls later, it begins to dawn on Virlask that Tau actually does not know how to use a shock sword. Or possibly any other sword for that matter.

A shock sword is a difficult thing to damage. It has very little parts, and Virlask has spared no expense in maintaining his weapons. He receives the rare opportunity of witnessing someone use a blade to bludgeon several Hive to death.

It’s absurd. Almost painful to watch. Virlask doubts his sword will ever be in the same condition.

By the time the last thrall dies, Tau’s hands and armor are dripping with rotted Hive flesh. Calling it a butchering would have been an insult to proper butchers.

Virlask holsters his cannon, ignoring the burn of the barrel against his back, and looks down at Tau, incredulous. “You said you knew how to use a sword.”

Tau has the audacity to look insulted with Virlask’s sword in his hand. “I do.”

Virlask glances around. Most of the Hive bodies could be considered pulpy rather than cut or stabbed. He has seen other guardians with swords. It isn’t a matter of differing styles between their species. “That wasn’t swordwork.”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Tau says, handing Virlask back the shock sword. He pauses when the hilt and blade rattles—something even he recognizes a good sword shouldn’t do. “... I broke it, didn’t I?”

Grim, Virlask holds the sword up, eyeing down the blade. Somehow Tau has bent it. The grip feels off as well, all twisted and unbalanced in his hand. Without looking at it, Virlask knows the hilt is cracked. Sparks tingle at his claws, arc core malfunctioning.

“You did,” Virlask confirms. The parts he can salvage into his remaining sword, which may be a small blessing in disguise. Keeping two swords in proper functioning condition has been difficult with his minimal supplies, and it occurs to him that Tau has never offered the means to do so, only because the guardian hadn’t known in the first place, not because he had wanted Virlask to be at a disadvantage.

To his surprise, the well of frustration Virlask has been holding back lessens. He’s still angry, of course. It’s still a waste of a good sword.

Tau ducks his head. “Shit. I’m sorry. It really did help me back there though.”

“I should have thrown you the scorch cannon instead,” Virlask says, trying not to be surprised by the apology. The remark earns him a quiet huff from Tau. A part of Virlask still wants to be furious, but he’s mostly in disbelief. “You have lived for hundreds of years. I thought you would be… proficient with a sword. At minimal.”

“Swords are old tech. Never had the need.”

“Swords don’t need reloading, or ammo,” Virlask says, daring to be critical.

Tau holds up a hand, fingers curling in. “I know. But why bother when fists don’t need reloading either.”

Virlask stares, uncomprehending. He switches to Human Universal to avoid the offensive terms he’d rather say in Eliksni. He can plead ignorance if it comes out insulting in human words. “Fists aren’t true weaponry. You do not have claws.”

“Oh,” Tau says, lowering his hand. “It’s a… titan joke.”

“A bad one,” Virlask concludes, though he is growing used to Tau’s unthinking arrogance that seems to run in most guardians. He also doesn’t mention that Tau should learn how to handle a sword. It isn’t his place, nor his concern. If an undead immortal has chosen to not learn any kind of swordsmanship then Virlask sees no benefit in correcting it. He sheaths the broken shock sword. “Will we continue forward?”

There is a pause while Tau consults with Theta in the privacy of their link. He gives a short nod, reloading all his guns; pulse and auto rifles, rocket launcher, all his motions as even and steady as the shots he takes. “We will. Need any telemetries?”

“There is only the last Ascendant Knight left to find, yes?” Virlask draws out his remaining shock sword, air thurming with arc energy when he activates it. “This is all I will need.”

Even with his helmet on, Tau looks doubtful. A hand to his hip conveys the true depth to his annoyance; Tau seems to be just as irritated. “I don’t need you trying to kill yourself and calling it duty-bound. Again.”

Virlask hisses. He had faltered once, at his lowest point weeks ago. Tau hauling him away from battle had been humiliating, and Virlask doesn’t like the reminder. He has been disgraced enough—crewless, bannerless, and exiled. Yet some old part of his still wants to prove his worth, even if it’s to an undead ghoul. “You underestimate my skill with a sword. I will show you.”

Tau tilts his head to one side in the way Virlask recognizes as taking a moment to translate unfamiliar Eliksni words. To Virlask’s dismay, he realizes he has used the formal honorifics of address, much like how he would have issued a challenge to the Archon Forge to prove his captaincy.

It doesn’t help at all when Tau replies in the worst possible way.

“Then I’ll be watching,” he says. The judgemental weight of his voice makes Virlask feel as if he should be looking up at Tau from the Forge’s pit.

Virlask’s grip over his sword tightens as he points the tip upwards in an ironic salute, though he thinks it might not as mocking as he wants it to be. It’s too late to take it back. Tau seems to not care in any case, turning away to lead them deeper into the Hive cavern. His apathy is both a relief and an annoyance.

Virlask curses, soft within his helmet, and follows.

The Ascendant Knight lies dead on the ground, Virlask’s shock sword through its chest. Virlask pulls it free with little effort, giving the blade a quick flick to shake off the fading tendrils of its essence, and watches as the corpse disappears entirely, back to the Ascendant realm.

Tau has never doubted their success. The Knight is as good as dead from the start, whether he brings it down himself or allows Virlask to do it. He just doesn’t expect a sword to do the job. After all, why bring a knife to a knife party when you can win faster with a gun?

Shooting is often more efficient, but even Tau admits there was something pretty with how Virlask wields his shock sword. Both Eshan and Rael have used swords in the past—all grace and dance and the kind of lightness in their steps that Tau knows he can’t manage. Eshan had tried once to teach him, the memory so far off Tau doesn’t remember why they stopped.

He still remembers how Eshan fought though, and it had been nothing like how Virlask fights. Eshan’s speed had been essential, quick to attack and quick to react. With Virlask, his speed with the blade shows differently, more of a constant driving force, each movement deliberate and patient. There’s a weight behind his arching swings—something Eshan hadn’t shown, only because it hadn’t been needed with their agile reflexes.

Virlask doesn’t dance, not like the Hunters do, but there’s still a rhythm to it, something Tau can follow for once.

Tau reloads his rifles, clips snapping into place in automatic habit. He walks up to Virlask, grabbing one of his secondary forearms. The incoming swing is thoroughly deserved, but Tau blocks it by meeting the blade his left arm guard. The arc shock blows out his shields, alerts flashing through his screen, but Virlask doesn’t follow up with a second hit, only stilling as Tau steps closer.

“Hey. Teach me how to use that shock sword,” Tau says, as if he hasn’t just been hit with one. His shields stop wailing as Theta fixes up the damage. He signals a silent thank you in return. Being a former striker grants him some tolerance to arc energy, but the shock still sends a nasty crackle through his entire body.

Virlask looks down at him, teeth clicking. He draws back, the secondary arm first and then the blade at Tau’s forearm. Tau allows Virlask the space, but not by much. Virlask has a weird habit of being slightly more agreeable within the range of a good punch. Then again, most people are.

“Why?” Virlask asks, wary.

“Why? Because you’re good. I haven’t seen swordwork like yours before,” Tau says and then quickly amends, “Swordwork that I didn’t need to put a stop to. Never got the chance to really watch how Eliksni fight with it.”

Virlask pauses. He sounds incredulous again. “You were actually watching.”

“You were keeping the Ascendant Knight to yourself,” Tau says, half-joking. At Virlask’s extended silence, he frowns. “Should I have helped? I didn’t want to mess you up.”

Virlask uses all four arms to shrug. He sheaths his sword, looking away to adjust the straps with his secondary hands while his primaries seem to be checking the damage at his arm guards. “I defeated the knight with no serious injuries. Your help was not needed.”

Tau blinks. The flurry of movement looks a whole lot like nervous fidgeting. Is Virlask embarrassed? Even while bragging? Tau glances at the arm guards. The spikes are blunted, covered in Hive gore. Pretty banged up. Tau shakes his head, putting out his hands as he does.

“Here. Give me your arm guards and I’ll have Theta repair them,” he says.

Virlask’s eyes narrow. It’s funny how Virlask seems to think that he can’t say no when he obviously wants to. Gives Tau all the smartass comments in the universe, but still manages to follow his lead anyway.

“I’m keeping that Hive cache and glimmer, but I still owe you for taking down the knight,” Tau says, exasperated. He motions for Theta to appear and gestures to the arm guards. “Theta, use the mod package I dismantle earlier. Those should work.”

Virlask hisses again, this time in short bursts. It takes a moment for Tau to realize he’s sputtering. He catches half formed words in Eliksni, all of them protests and then, interestingly, the word ‘inappropriate’ gets thrown into the mix. Tau double checks the translation through Theta and—yes, it’s the right definition.

“Why? Then call it a gift if you’re so uptight about it. And you’re going to teach me how to use a sword,” Tau says, brisk. Virlask has never liked offers so he might has well make them orders, if Virlask insists on being so indebted to him.

Virlask eyes are flickering brightly, almost like a flashing fire alarm. There’s no doubt about his embarrassment now. “Rewards are unnecessary. There must be some kind of basic Eliksni etiquette articles in your human databases—I am asking you to please read them.”

Tau points a finger at Virlask, a mixture of both anger and confusion. “I have read a quarter of the stuff Theta keeps finding on Eliksni culture. And ‘rewards’—?” The exact term Virlask uses is vaguely familiar. There are multiple synonyms in the databases, but the context makes it clear what exactly Virlask is referring to. Inappropriate makes more sense now. “—That honor offering stuff only counts if I’m Eliksni with a Prime Servitor or whatever.”

“Archon or Kell,” Virlask corrects stiffly. “Only if you are an Archon or Kell. And we no longer practice that ritual, not in decades.”

Tau makes an agreeing ‘there you have it’ motion with his hand. “Don’t make this complicated. In my culture, a gift is sometimes just an expression of thanks. Even if I am technically holding you captive.” And then another thought hits him—or maybe because of. Tau frowns at himself.

“Very ethnocentric of you to say,” Virlask fires back, but luckily he sounds mollified.

Tau has to look up the Eliksni meaning of ethnocentric through his HUD, so his response ends up lacking and childish. “I can accuse you of the same thing,” he says in Mandarin.

“Add high-minded and white-eyed as well,” Virlask retorts, also in Mandarin, which is how Tau finds out for the first time that Virlask can speak in other Earth languages other than Human Universal.

Stupid of Virlask to reveal that, but somehow Tau feels like he’s the one who has the disadvantage. He gets to be content with Theta sneaking in a full repair for Virlask’s arm guards though. All that arguing had been good for something.

Virlask inspects the repaired armor, still looking miffed about the whole thing, but at least he’s not complaining about it.

“Thanks,” he says in Human Universal. Nice and informal. None of that Eliksni honor reward bullshit. “I will teach you proper swordsmanship in return.”

Tau finds himself grinning from inside his helmet, pleased and excited. He forces himself to stop and tell Theta to transmat them out. And then he’s back to grinning again when Virlask shimmers away with a startled snarl and back into the ship.

White-eyed stupid, huh? Maybe Virlask had been on the mark with that after all.

#oc: virlask #OC: Tau #ohreadermine-fic #VIRLASK'S SWORD LORE

[peaky-yamyam]

Neighbours: Part Seventeen (the second bit)

The Banquet

Part One | Part Seventeen (the first bit) | Part Seventeen (the second bit) | Part Eighteen | 

I try to join the conversation, but however glad I am that my father and Tommy seem to be getting along, the discussion they're having about importing and exporting goods fails to capture my attention. I watch silently as the room begins to fill, and curse as Lord Whitley and Lord Derby take a seat a few chairs down from my diagonal: not nearly far enough away.

As the last chair is taken the room falls naturally into silence and my father stands to make a speech thanking everyone for attending and toasting his good health, his beautiful daughters - Camilla and I raise our glasses to a quiet chuckle from the table - old friends, and new - at which point he nods to Tommy - before concluding with a wish that we all enjoy the food and the evening. The first course is served almost immediately and chatter consumes the table again; including my father and Tommy.

“Georgie, John and I are going to have a game of poker later, would you like to join us?” Camilla asks, placing her hand on John's forearm.

I shoot her a warning look, which she ignores. “I don't play poker with you.”

“Why not?” John asks.

“Because she's a dirty cheat.”

“Well you’re the one who taught me to play,” she says.

“Yes, but I didn't teach you how to cheat and I still don't know how you do it…”

“How did you learn to play George?” John asks and the little corner of the table we’re sat at goes quiet.

“A soldier in France, he'd lost both his arms but still loved a game of poker, so I used to hold his cards for him. I just sort of picked it up,” I answer, taking a swig of my drink at the regrettable turn of conversation.

“Goodness, I remember you writing to us about that,” my father says, stalling his conversation with Tommy to join our discussion. “That was when I knew you’d be absolutely fine no matter what you experienced out there.”

“You did have your whole family worried for a while Georgiana,” Lord Whitley interjects and our group all turn to face him at once. It’s almost comical they way he shifts uncomfortably and glances to my mother for back-up, which for once, she fails to offer. Forever undeterred though, he continues, “I mean, a respectable Lady like yourself belittling yourself to help care for commoners… Abroad as well!” He glances around the table with a smile on his face as if he’s made a joke, but he’s met with nothing other than stony expressions as everyone within earshot watches the Shelby brothers shuffle in their seats.

“I shan’t dignify that comment by explaining why it’s so ludicrous Lord Whitley, and I’m sure you’ll agree, that in present company you might want to consider your future jokes with a little more care,” I reply, but despite the venom in my words, Whitley does little more than continue with his food, and I can tell as he clears his throat that he’s no where near finished.

“In all honesty though father, I’ll never know why you worried about her so much. If anyone was made for war it’s Georgiana, Lady or no Lady,” Camilla says, her melodic voice pulling everyone’s attention away from Whitley. “In fact, what you should have been worried about was her running off to join the army herself!”

“You know if they'd have let me, I'd have grabbed a rifle and been on the front line with the lads,” I joke.

My father nods with a smile but my mother, along with Lord Whitley it seems, are outraged.

“That's preposterous!” he announces. “A woman would never have coped with the trenches, let alone have been any use with a rifle”

“That's not true, George is a fucking good shot! Better than a lot of the war shy ponces we got lumbered with,” John fires back without hesitation.

“John’s right,” Tommy adds, his voice level and calm but his expression telling of his anger. “And half the men couldn’t cope with the trenches either. But of course, you'd know nothing about that would you Lord Whitley?”

Whitley opens his mouth to speak again but I’ve had enough.

“Lord Whitley, why are you such a momentous cunt?” I fume. It’s childish, but I’m proud of the shocked gasp my word choice elicits from the majority of the table and it spurs me on to continue. “Don't assume you know anything of what I'm capable of. I don't doubt I'd surprise you.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence that hangs in the room as I glare at Whitley from my seat. My mother looks pale, no doubt she’s already preparing her apologies for my behaviour, but my father has a slight smile playing on his lips and I know that he’s proud of me for speaking my mind.

“So Arthur-” he starts, a cue the whole table takes note of as they return to their conversations as if nothing had happened, “-you’re Thomas’ elder brother am I right?”

I manage to keep relatively quiet throughout the rest of the meal and once everyone's finished I rush off to speak to my mother in private.

Her lips pinch as I ask to speak to her and she leaves her group of friends with such lethargy that I almost tell her she can forget it. She follows me eventually though and I take her round the corner away from prying eyes and listening ears before I start.

“Mother, I just wanted to apologise for my language at dinner.”

“Is that all?” she replies, eyebrows raised and head cocked.

“Well yes, I could tell that it offended some people. I shouldn't have let my anger speak for me. But I stand by the sentiment. And Lord Whitley has more to apologise for than I do, surely.”

“Lord Whitley is not the one who brought gypsy scum into my house. Lord Whitley is not the one who seems to try, every day, to make my life difficult and do everything he can to be a disappointment. Lord Whitley is not the one who is dragging our family's reputation through the mud trying to get his excitement from some frivolous affair with a gangster!” She's red in the face by the time she finishes and I give her a second for her words to resonate and for her to attempt to make amends this once, but she only looks proud of herself.

Although I know she wants to crack me, to make me apologise and promise that I'll be better, the frequency of her “you're-a-disappointment” lectures have done nothing but desensitise me to their words and I manage, with little effort, to swallow the lump in my throat and bury the tears stinging my eyes.

“I liked you a lot more when you were in America,” I say. “You can go back to your friends now, I have nothing else to say to you.”

She nods and saunters away from me, rejoining her friends as if nothing has happened and my stomach turns, my anger and frustration making me feel sick. I grab another glass of champagne as they pass on a tray and move further down the hallway, resting my head against the wall once I'm out of sight and take long, slow breaths as I try to calm myself.

“It's not happening tonight Arthur.”

It’s Tommy, undeniably. They're round the corner and obviously haven't heard me approach.

“Why not Tom?”

“Because Arthur, look around! You think we could do it without being noticed? Georgiana’s already suspicious-”

“I told you,” John interrupts.

They go silent and I can imagine Tommy’s glaring at John for his input.

“Tommy if we don't do it now when are you going to get another chance?” Arthur asks.

“Leave the thinking to me, hmm? I sorted Roderick and I'll sort Whitley, and then everything can go back to normal. No more fancy dinners, no more knocking elbows with Lords and Ladies. Done. All of it.”

I assume John and Arthur make a silent agreement and I hear their footsteps approach where I'm stood. I want nothing more than to run, lock myself away and cry myself to sleep for how stupid I've been. But I also want answers and I know if I run now then Tommy will think of some clever way to avoid ever having to explain himself.

So, I finish off the rest of my glass, set it on the floor and wait for them to round the corner.

I've never seen Tommy look genuinely shaken before, in fact before this moment I'd have bet a lot of money that Thomas Shelby was physically incapable of looking anything other than calm and collected when faced with adversity. But when he almost collides with me as he storms down the hall, all the colour drains from his face and he looks as if he's about to throw up.

“We need to have a chat Tommy.”

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine

[daddysmunge-blog]

Breakfast (A Damien Haas Imagine)

Summary: Damien is secretly (although he is very bad at it) making everyone at Smosh Winter Games breakfast. You walk into the kitchen and try to convince yourself to confess to him.

Warnings: Food, Fluff

Words: 1,018 (oops)

CRASH

Your eyes slowly open at the startling sound.

Wait, had I really fallen asleep on the couch?

It was freezing, how had I managed to fall asleep?

The last thing you remember was helping strike cameras and softboxes for the day.

You have been working with Smosh for about a year now as lead property technician, which is just fancy talk for “handling all the props for the skits.” but you really helped wherever they needed it. Heck, you’ve already been in a few Game Bangs.

You slowly regain consciousness and stretch out your stiff muscles.

I guess I should check out that noise.

Honestly you just wanted to go back to sleep, but you decided if the noise was nothing you’d go back up to your room and actually sleep with a blanket this time.

You were at Big Bear filming Smosh Winter Games with the rest of the Smosh crew. This was the second Winter Games you’ve worked on and third overall Smosh seasonal games.

You groggily walked over to where you thought the noise came from.

You peered into the large, fancy kitchen to see someone holding a pan to his chest.

It was Damien.

Your longtime crush.

“Im so sorry (y/n)! Did I wake you?” Damien whispered, “I guess I’m really bad at keeping quiet.”

“Damien!” You laughed, immediately feeling more awake because of the adrenaline of seeing him. “It’s 4 am, what are you doing?”

“Well I guess I can tell you now because my cover is blown.” He smirked. That goddamn smirk.

Ever since Damien joined Smosh Games you had to force yourself from falling for him. Which worked for a little while, until you were put in position to produce his and Shayne’s new show.

You two started to get closer and closer until you knew you had fallen completely in love with him. But you never let it show. You were at work and you believed work and romance should stay separate.

Well…maybe this time can be an exception.

“I wanted to make breakfast for everyone since it’s the last day. But now you know my secret…so now you have to help me.” He teased.

You walked further into the kitchen. “You know I don’t cook.”

“Don’t or won’t?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Both.” You stared intensely at him.

“Too bad! I’m going to teach you.” He walked toward the cabinets and started rifling through them.

You groaned. “Fine.” You knew there was no escaping this situation.

The only person who knew about your crush was your best friend Mari.

She was the first one to notice. Your body language changed around him and your voice went slightly higher. But obviously Mari only noticed because she knew you so well.

She dragged you to the bathroom after an episode of Maricraft with Damien and the rest of Smosh Games.

“You never told me you liked Damien!” She hugged you.

“I…um, I what…?” You stammered. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet.

“Oh come on! I know you better than anyone else. Just admit it and I’ll leave you alone.”

You had to think for a second before you answered. You couldn’t lie, he was very handsome. You loved how protective he was and how he could turn a bad situation into a good one with one joke or a silly voice.

You sighed, “I guess…maybe I do.”

“Maybe? You were practically drooling all over him!” She almost yelled.

“Mari!” You covered her mouth.

~~~

“So what are you making?” You ask, walking closer to him to try and peer over his shoulder.

“What are WE making.” He replied sarcastically.

“Ugh, what are WE making…” you groan.

“Glad you asked. We are making french toast.”

“Is that all you can make?” I ask.

“Hey, at least I can make something.”

You shoot him a silly face. He replies with an even sillier one back.

You laugh. “Okay, okay, you win.”

It looks like he’s looking at a recipe on his phone.

“Could you get me the french toast bread in the pantry?”

“Aye, aye, captain.” You salute and rummage through the pantry until you find what you are looking for.

You place the bread on the table next to him. “What’s next?”

“Next…we beat together these eggs…”

He cracks two eggs over a bowl,

“This milk…”

he does the same, pouring a measured amount of milk into the bowl.

“And this vanilla extract.”

He pours the vanilla into a teaspoon and into the bowl.

He hands you a whisk. “Would you care to do the honors?”

“Only if I have to.” You reply sarcastically.

“That’s the spirit!”

You start to whisk the ingredients together.

“Yeah! You’re a pro!” Damien cheers.

“Don’t patronize me.” You said flatly.

“I wasn’t! I honestly couldn’t have done a better job myself.

You start to mix faster and faster, just to get the kicks out of Damien.

"I’m the best mixer alive!” You laugh.

You accidentally mix too fast and the bowl jolts out of your control. You manage to grab it, but some of the mix splashes on Damien.

You try to apologize, but you can’t stop laughing.

“Oh you think that’s funny? Well how about this?” He takes a step toward the sink and turns on the water. He sprays you with the faucet.

You get drenched in cold water. The only thing on your mind is revenge.

You run over toward the flower and grab a handful and throw it at Damien. He charges toward you and takes the flower out of your hands. He grabs another handful and throws it on you.

After about three minutes of war the kitchen is a mess. It looked like the roof had come off and it started to snow inside as well.

“Oh god, what have we done?” Damien laughed.

“Let’s finish breakfast and then we can clean up.” You suggested. God we looked like messes. We were both coated in flower and other various kitchen supplies.

“Right.” Damien said. He started to coat each piece of bread in the liquid.

~~~

“When are you finally gonna tell him? I can tell it’s eating you up inside.” Mari pressed.

“I know…it is, but it’s work! I’m supposed to be professional.” I sigh. I was sleeping over at Mari’s for the night, like I often do.

“Listen, honey. You will be able to do your job so much better once this weight is lifted off your chest.”

“Yeah, or every time I look at him I’ll be embarrassed and ruin a perfectly good friendship!”

“Just tell him! I know Damien. He won’t hold a grudge. If he doesn’t like you back, you will go back to being the same old friends.”

“…I guess you’re right. I just gotta wait for the right moment.”

“You’ll know when it’s time.”

~~~

You’ll know when it’s time.

I can’t stop thinking about what Mari said.

Something in my gut told me it was that time.

I looked over at him. I was now sitting on the countertop. I took a deep breath.

“Hey…Damien?” I asked.

“What’s up?” He replied, not looking back at me.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, totally.” He replied.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“So I just wanted to tell you…” I breathed.

CRASH

Damien accidentally knocked over the rest of the mixture onto the floor.

“Oh my god.” He put his hand on his face.

“I’m such an idiot. Could you go get the mop form the cupboard.”

“Oh…um yeah.” You stammered.

You went to go get the mop and brought it back to him.

“Thanks! Oh and what was it you wanted to tell me?” Damien looked up at me.

“Oh! Um I just wanted to say,” you took a deep breath, “I really-”

You felt your feet give out from under you. In your attempt to make your way to the other side of the kitchen, you slipped and fell on the eggy substance.

“(Y/n)!” He kept toward you, catching you seconds before your head hit the floor.

You were face to face.

You stayed there for more than you were comfortable with. He was looking into your eyes and you were looking into his.

“You said you… um really…?” Damien looked nervous.

“I…really…like you. Like, a lot.” You tried to shy away.

“Well that’s good because I’ve had a crush on you since the day I started working here.”

You smiled. You couldn’t believe it.

You still stood there looking eachother at eye level until he finally moved in to kiss you.

You both pulled away after several intense seconds of kissing.

“You taste like flour.” You giggle.

#smosh imagine #smosh games imagine #damien haas imagine

[imaginesanonymous]

Comment Sections are Battlefields

Request: I like your recent Mark imagines, hope you don't mind if I suggest one from personal experience. You and Mark are streaming Battlefield 1 and your giving historical facts about the setting, maybe the chat and or in game players start giving her crap and start calling her a "history fagget" but Mark sticks up for you. Whenever I play I always get called this and it drives me nuts. I've been studying history for years and this is my reward for educating people.

a/n- This was kinda hard to write bc I don’t know much about online gaming or livestreaming but I did my best, ya know? Shout out to the anon who gave me all kinds of facts about the game so I could actually attempt this request.

“Hello, everybody,” Mark greeted, voice deep. “Today, I am joined by the lovely Y/n and we are going to be livestreaming our adventures in Battlefield 1. As some of you may know, Y/n is a bit of a history buff,” you flexed your arms, “so you might actually learn something on my channel today. We’re going to take turns playing and whoever is not playing will be the commentator. Let’s jump right in!”

Mark loads up the game and you launch right into your little spiel. “Cloth caps were worn in 1918, so that’s accurate,” you say as Mark meanders around the map, trying to figure out the controls while people shoot at him.

You roll your eyes at the camera when Mark gets killed before he can even figure out how to change his weapons. However, after about ten minutes, he has everything figured out and he’s actually starting to do quite well.

You click your tongue. “The MP18 SMG was used by German Stormtroopers, not anyone else. And Zeppelins played more of a recon roll than bombers,” you frown. “The amount of tanks in game is not remotely accurate but I understand why they are part of the game”

“Is anything in this game accurate?” Mark jokes.

“Well, yeah, but it’s more interesting to point out the inaccuracies” you stick your tongue out. “Oh! The body armor seen on support class was experimental and mostly flawed. Any armor in the game would have barely helped in real life if you were getting shot at.”

“That sucks,” Mark says, running around a corner in the trenches only to run into an enemy who shoots him dead. “Agh!”

“Wow, nice one.” You shoot a quick glance toward the comment section to see if anyone is roasting Mark yet and feel your stomach drop.

           Markimoo2876: Who tf is this bitch? Fuck off with the history, I’m here    for Mark!

           Xxxnarutoismahlyfexxx: history faggot

           JackSkepticEyexoxo: lol history fag

You grew quiet. You’d been on a few livestreams with Mark, and yeah, sometimes the viewers were mean, but no one had ever taken the piss out of you while you were talking about what you loved. More comments came rushing in.

           wenowjenfwfno: whos this ugly moron tryna teach us stuff no one cares we want mark

           hufflepuffle1992: y/n or whatever their name is so so annoying

           poopiepie: someone tell that piece of shit to shut the fuck up already god

“Y/n!” Mark all but yells, bringing you back to reality. “Hey, you okay?”

You smile weakly. “No, yeah, I’m good. Is It my turn?”

Mark gives you a quizzical look. He drops the controller without pausing the game and joins you at the computer. It only takes him a second of scanning the comments to realize the flood of people calling you a “history fag” is what’s upsetting you.

“What! Stop calling y/n that term! What is wrong with you people? Does being educated really upset you that much?” He turns to you and grabs you gently by the arm. The anger melts from his face when he sees how upset you really are. “Keep telling me about the game, okay? I like your facts and you should never feel ashamed about talking about what you love.” He returns his attention to the camera. “And if any of you have a problem with that, you’re no fans of mine.”

You both return to your seats, Mark still fuming. He keeps glancing over at you as if to make sure you’re not trying to look at the comments again.

Your voice is quiet and holds no confidence, but you offer up a new piece of information. “The in game stationary MG is a British Maxim, still it can be found in German fortifications which I doubt I need to point out is wrong.”

“Really? That’s so weird!” He goes silent again, waiting for you to speak.

You consider your options. “Lee Enfield rifles have a slower reload in real life. I mean, most guns do but this always sticks out to me.”

“You have a good eye for detail!”

With Mark so obviously ready to defend you, you start to feel better. “Soldiers were often equipped with a rifle and a melee weapon. Only officers had a pistol. And any semi-automatic rifle would jam often in a clean environment, so in a muddy field it would be impressive if it even fired a single shot.”

“Wow! Looks like the developers didn’t do their homework!”

You laugh. “Guess not!”

It goes on like that for the rest of the livestream, you listing off facts and Mark cracking jokes or asking you to explain further. The aggressive comments bother you less and less as you play. All you can think about is how much fun you’re having. By the time you two wrap things up, you’re feeling confident enough to close the session yourself.

“This is Y/n and Mark signing off. I’ll be back to pollute your brains with my scary historical facts, so prepare yourselves for more liberal propaganda in the near future!”

Mark nods in approval after the camera is turned off. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

#markiplier imagine #mark fischbach imagine #youtuber imagine #yt #admin red

[clockworkfromspace]

The Book v2 chapter 2

*Andrè begins to walk about the halls toward the door*

Chris was in there even though he was an Ultrabeings

Jea: Hi Chris!

He waves

Any teachers?

No? Good.

Mr. Taio: Okay everyone. Welcome to Ultra Study. If you took this class with me before, you should know that I am one of the seven most capable people equipped to teach this class.

*Andrè runs outside*

FREEEEEEEEDOMMMM

...

Freedom feels the same as being imprisoned

After school

Jea and Jenifer get on their bus

Josh goes to the car rider exit

*The next day*

Chris was already there

-Josh waits outside the bus ramp for the twins-

-their bus originally shows up-

Chris walks to the bus ramp but sees Josh and walks away

*Andrè shows up to school with a knife on his belt*

Morning

Chris was walking back needing to talk to jea

-the twins walk off the bus but Jea dresses like Jenifer so it's harder to tell them apart-

"Uuhh....jea?...."

-Jenifer subtlety points at Jea-

He looks at jea "Can I talk to you privately please?..."

Jea gasps

"How'd you know it was me? Do wolves have one sort of 6th sense or something?"

"No not really but this is important..."

Weird humans

Imma go inside

Jea: What do you need?

"Something happened yesterday and I need your help...."

Jea: Go on

"Can I talk to you without people around? Please"

Jenifer: I got where she goes

"Fine i-i'm...homeless my abusive brother threw me out yesterday"

Live in a tent-like I do

"So...the reason I wanted to talk to jea is that I trust her..."

Jenny: Need me to pound on your big bro? -she cracks her knuckles-

Need a hit?

Jea: No more fighting! You promised Jenny.

Just stole a night vision scope yesterday

Jenny: I promised I'd fight less.

Well I'm a free spirit

No parents

No relatives

No love or compassion

Jenifer: You dude, who are you anyway?

Andrè

I'm a hitman

Sorta

If someone would hire me

Jenifer: I have a few enemies.

Jea: Jennyyyyy

Jenifer: Kidding! -she mouths- "Sort of"

Heh

So

Who are you, people

Jea looks at both of them

"I'm not leaving the two of you alone. Now back to Chris"

Jea: I'm Jea and this is my sister Jenny. That's all there really is to us.

"Really...."

So Chris

"Hm?"

Tents are 15 bucks at Walmart

"I am not living in no tent!"

Man up

I live in one

"And I have no money my brother has it all"

Get a job

Jea: No one should have to live in a tent.

Jenifer: I agree but it's not like there's a variety of options

Jea frowns

Welp

My mom left and my dads dead soooooo

Jea: Oh! I know. He can live with us

Jenifer: Dad would never let that slide

Jea: You're right

Jenifer: Though, they don't really need to know...

If they found out

I don't think they'd appreciate having enough bombs in their basement to cause world war 3

Jenifer: Then I'll take the heat.

Jea: Jenny no.

Jenifer: Were not debating this.

Well

It's nicer than waking up to 3 wolf spiders

Jea: By the way, you weren't serious about the bombs right?

Ummm

Maybe

But I do have sniper rifles and assault rifles

Jenifer: Dude, as cool as it sounds, no heavy artillery in the house. Maybe a few handguns. Something easy to hide.

Where the hell am I supposed to keep my mini-nuke?

I'm joking

Jea: Thank god

But where am I supposed to, keep my guns

Jea: How about you keep all of your things that could be used to incriminate you in your tent.

Jea: and OUT OF OUR HOUSE

Jenifer: Also, where are we going to keep them? Andre and Chris I mean.

Jea: no one uses the attic.

Jenifer: Too many webs to clean.

Jenifer: though, if they're willing to clean it out.

Meh

Can't be that bad

Jea turns to Chris

"What do you say?"

He smiles and nods

-later that day, at the end of school-

So

Jea: Our dad shouldn't be home but just in case, well sneak you through the back door

"And your mom?"

Jea: Dead.

"Oh.....i'm sorry for asking...."

Jea: Its fine.

Jenifer: Come on, our bus is this way

He nods and follows

*Andrè follows*

They get to the house-

-Jenifer leads them to the attic-

"thank you again"

Jea: Anything for a new friend.

Thanks

I only have my micro smg and my 2 revolvers

That's it

Jea: NO GUNS!

Jenifer: Chill out sis

"Dang.."

Hm?

Jea: what's wrong Chris

"N-nothing..."

Jea: Why'd you say dang?

Hello strange human

"Forget i said anything"

hello

my name’s jeff

Jea: What are you doing in our house?

idk i just popped into existence

so who are all of you?

Jea: I'm Jea, this is my twin sister Jenny, this our friend Chris, and some random guy named Andre

I'm a psychotic motherfucker with guns

-You all hear the front door-

Great combination

Chris turns into a puppy and hides

dude that is awesome

Jenifer: Quickly, get into the attic

Jea: And you, mystery guy, sorry but you've got to go

me?

Jenifer: Yeah you

ok *dissappears and reappears in the attic*

Mr. Kon: Girls I'm home!

-Jea walks to the living room- "Hi daddy"

Jenifer: Andre hurry up while Jea distracts him

*wonders why I had to go into the attic*

*Andrè sneaks to the attic*

*whispers*oh hey.

*whispers* why are we in here?

We're not supposed to be here

oh ok

-Jenifer closes it-

wanna see something cool andrè?

Sure

watch this... *morphs into a pit viper and slithers around andrè*

Cool

I would shoot you but that would compromise us

*morphs back into a human*

That would*

don’t shoot me

Mr. Kon notices Christ's tail

Mr. Kon: Jea, did you bring home another stray?

I’m an animagus. I can transfigure into a snake at will

Jenifer whispers: go with it

He yelps scared and runs off

Jea: Yeah. But don't be upset.

don’t laugh at me... *disappears and reappears behind André*

behind*

I can teleport too

Jenifer: I told her not to but look at his eyes.

Mr. Kon: I can't he keeps running off.

so whatcha wanna do why we’re stuck up here

Chris sits down in front of Mr. Kon and looks at him with sad eyes

Jea: Can we pleaaaase keep him?

-Mr. Kon notices a lack of man parts- "I think you mean her and..... Sure."

Jenifer: She meant him. Meet the world's first transgender dog.

Mr. Kon: The fuck?

Jea: SWEAR JAR!

The dog smiles at jenny

Mr. Kon: Are you kidding me?

Jea: Nope!

His tail wags a lot

He jumps on Mr. Kon

Mr. Kon: Ah

-the next day-

Chris wakes up

He gets ready and heads to the bus stop without being seen

*Andrè sneaks out the house and walks to school

Out*

*teleports from the attic to the first block*

Chris was in his first block

ooh hey. I remember you. u were that puppy!

He blushes "y-ya...."

*teleports behind Chris* I can transfigure into a snake

Chris stabs jeff before he spoke not knowing who it was

*writhes in pain* ow-owwww

"Oh god...... I'm so sorry" he bandages it up

i-it’s fine

I heal fairly fast too

*wound stops bleeding*

"So your not human either?"

no

idk what I am

I’m a teleporting animagus

and I have fairly fast healing abilities

"Which is not human"

yeah

"And you already know I'm not human but anyway what's your name I forgot to ask"

it’s jeff

yours?

"Chris"

well nice to meet you, Chris! *sticks hand out to shake Chris's hand*

Chris shakes his hand

so, who were the other people?

"Idk their classes...."

well, who were they?

"Jea and jenny"

*time skip to lunch*

Jea, Jenifer, and Josh show up

Together

Chris walks up to them he looks at jea and jenny "please don't be mad at me because of yesterday"

Jea: Mad about what?

*walks into the cafeteria and over to Chris*

hey guys

"About your dad seeing me... And hey"

*whispers to Chris* do other people at the school know about us having abilities or do we have to keep that hidden?

Jea: That wasn't your fault

Jenifer: It was a little. He could have stayed calm and rushed to the attic instead of running off as a puppy.

"Keep them hidden"

Jenifer: Though things worked out for the better

"Y-ya...."

damn... that means I gotta walk places

Jenifer: It's better to have him disguised as a puppy then hiding him like Andre

you guys must me Jea and Jenifer. I’m jeff

Jea: We already met

oh yeah

Jea: You popped into our house

still don’t know how I got there

"Ya"

thanks

I wanna pull a prank *smirks*

"On who?"

I don’t know

we gotta find a group of preppy girls

Jea: That would be mean.

I know

Jenifer: Yet funny.

but hella funny

Jenifer: I'm in.

Jea: Jennyyyyy.

ayy... i like your attitude *smiles and looks at jenifer* u seem pretty cool.

well chris can turn into a puppy, correct?

Jea: You're a bad influence -she glares at Jeff-

i know *smirks*

Jenifer: Not really, sweety. I was born this way. He has nothing to do with it

Jea: Yeah but he came up with the prank idea.

"Ya jeff i can.."

Jea: Besides, you've already been written up 11 times and it's only the third day of school.

Jea: Make that 15

Jea: CHRIS NOT YOU TOO

so the plan is, you’re gonna lure them over to you with the adorable puppy eyes

Josh: Can I help?

Jenifer: ew, no way.

"Oh no...."

and then i’m gonna be in snake form and i’m going to teleportin between them and you

teleport in between*

it’ll be great.

Jenifer: More of a jump scare than a prank.

and sure josh i guess you and jenifer can point chris out

yeah but still funny as hell

so you guys in?

"Yes!"

Jea turns around and crosses her arms

Jenifer: Hell yeah

Josh: Yep

-jenifer pushes Josh aside-

#AST