#he gave the lad a quarter its time to trust the guy

[batbabydaily]

detective comics #64: the joker walks the last mile

#i believe him #he gave the lad a quarter its time to trust the guy #detective comics 64 #batman #dick grayson #robin #joker #golden age batman

[nikanndros]

I just want you to know that I think about From Eden at least once a week and I've lost count of how many times I've reread it. If you ever wanna share what comes next amd what other ideas you had for that universe i'm here to listen op 👀

Thank you, I love you! When I first wrote that fic, I had two other parts (at least) that I wanted to go with it, and since they’re partially written I’m happy to share those bits with you:

From Eden Part 2

“It’s just unfair, you know,” the girl said. Her words were slightly slurred. To be fair, they were in a nightclub after midnight. Everyone was slurring. “I was there for him, and I paid his bills while he went through college and now! He has a real job and he dumped me for his secretary.” She started sobbing.

Damen, who was six foot three, strongly built, and also carrying a loaded weapon, took her hands and made a sympathetic noise. “Lykaios,” he said, because he --unlike Laurent-- had actually listened when she’d introduced herself. “I think the best thing for you now is to forget about him. He didn’t deserve you.”

Lykaios sniffled. “You think so?”

“Of course I do,” Damen said. “I’ve only known you for a few minutes and I already can see that you’re incredible. Right, babe?”

“Right,” Laurent deadpanned. He glanced at his watch. “It’s quarter to.”

Damen nodded. Still holding Lykaios’ hands, he turned to Laurent. “Security?”

“Just the two.”

“Great.” He looked back to Lykaois. “Listen, doll, we’ve got to get down to business, but I want you to remember what I said, okay? You’re worth a lot more than that guy gave you.  And your mascara is running a little. Maybe you should go fix it up in the bathroom and wipe your tears?”

“Okay,” Lykaois sniffed. “Thank you.” She left.

Damen gave Laurent a grin, the crooked, teeth-baring one that appeared whenever they were about to do a job. “Ready?”

“You never call me doll.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Try it sometime and see.”

Damen yanked him in by the jacket and kissed him, slowly and bordering on indecent. “Alright,” he said, after he pulled back. “Show time.”

As Damen disappeared into the crowd, Laurent grasped his --still full-- drink, turned, and threw its contents at the roughest looking guy in the place.

“Hey, what the hell?” The guy squared his shoulders; he was intimidating even covered in lemonade.

“Fuck you,” Laurent replied. 

At this point, three months of travelling and stealing and, most importantly, Damen, Laurent had become pretty efficient at inciting fights. He didn’t need to see the punch coming to know that it was, he just sidestepped and let the man stumble into the back of another patron. It took less than thirty seconds before half the clientele were involved in an all out brawl.

The two security guards rushed in, and were immediately overwhelmed enough that the only bartender -- a youngish lad with a crooked nose -- had to join in to get everything under control. Laurent punched him.

Eventually, the fight got calmed down enough for fingers to point to Laurent and the lemonade clad man as the inciters, and guards hauled them both out into the parking lot.

“Let me go!” Lemonade guy yelled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“You can try,” Laurent said, a lot more willing to be subdued by the guard that had him by the arms.

“Don’t make us call the police, man,” his guard complained. “The both of you can go your separate ways, come on.”

The door behind them opened. 

“Sweetheart,” Damen said, chidingly. “I step away for two minutes and you get yourself into trouble.”

---

They go back to a motel after this and Damen reveals the money he stole from the tills while Laurent was being a distraction. Sexy times ensue. Damen eventually falls asleep and Laurent stays awake with the tv on. The news comes on and an interview is shown with Lykaios being interviewed about the robbery at the bar -- she gives a completely inaccurate description of what Damen looked like, and Laurent reflects on how easy it is for Damen to charm people to taking his side.

From Eden Part 3

Their most recent car was a much older model. The aircon was busted and they had to wind down the windows themselves, but at least the radio worked. It was hot, despite it being a couple of hours past sunset. 

Damen was singing with the radio. He wasn’t going to win any awards, but his voice was deep and he had a nice enough sense of the music. He grinned at Laurent. He was always happy. It was part of what made him so magnetic. 

Laurent smiled back. After two years with Damen, the expression felt natural.

Except for them, the road was empty. Damen reached over and took Laurent’s hand in his. 

“Watch the road,” Laurent said.

Damen laughed. “But you’re my favourite view.”

“I won’t be happy if you kill us in a car wreck.”

Obediently, Damen looked back to the road. And then, because it was Damen, the car sped up.

Laurent’s hair flew about chaotically, longer than it had ever been when his uncle had been keeping a hand of Laurent’s appearance. It needed a trim, but as much as Laurent trusted Damen, he didn’t trust him to do that. Damen had offered to take him to a salon, somewhere quiet where there was no chance he’d be recognised, but Laurent wasn’t fond of the idea of being trapped in a chair like that. He was too used to freedom by now.

-

“Left here,” Laurent instructed.

They’d had to slow down once the got near the town. It was best to avoid anyone’s attention for as long as possible. (An admittedly difficult feat when traveling with someone like Damen).

They drove a little way past the house, until they found an obscure little dirt road to park down. It wouldn’t do for someone to see the car. They grabbed their things, and looped back to the house on foot.

Quietly, Damen was still singing. 

“Stop it,” Laurent said.

“You love it,” he replied. “This is your birthday present, baby, at least look like you’re having fun.”

“This is literally the worst place we could get caught.”

“No it isn’t,” Damen replied. “I checked out the police station last time I was here. Breaking out of the cells would be too easy.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“There were no lights on when we drove by. No one is home.”

That was true. And they’d timed it perfectly, assuming schedules hadn’t changed in the last two years. The house was silent when they got to it, not a light in sight as promised.

Laurent took a deep breath.

“Chin up,” Damen said. “Let’s go rob your uncle.”

-

The spare key wasn’t where uncle used to keep it, so they went around the back and Damen fucked with the lock until it opened. It was almost hard to walk into the house, full of so many bad memories, except it had never truly been Laurent’s home and he could just tell himself this was another job. 

“The study,” Laurent said, leading the way.

They crept up the stairs together, torches on their lowest settings.

The study was a formidable room with the big, mahogany desk, and the shelves of books that existed solely to make visitors feel stupid. “Look at this,” Laurent said, pulling out one of the books. “War and Peace in Russian. He doesn’t even know Russian.”

Damen reached past him, and nonchalantly, tipped a stack of books off the shelf. They clattered noisily onto the floor. “Oops,” Damen said. He turned away. “Where’s the safe?”

“Under the desk,” Laurent replied. He was busy searching through the books, finding any early editions to pilfer. They’d probably be able to sell them to an antique store for a bit of quick cash. 

Damen worked away at the safe for a bit, guessing potential codes Laurent had told him about. “None of these are working, sweetheart.” The safe made a beeping noise. “Oh, wait. Got it. Wow, he really deserves to be robbed.”

“I’m sure he thought I’d never come back here.”

Damen made a vaguely angry noise. He didn’t like reminders of what had happened to Laurent in this house. He’d even tried to convince Laurent that they could just murder his uncle while they were here. Laurent wasn’t sure he wanted to add cold-blooded murder to their repertoire just yet though. However tempting.

Damen stood up, suddenly. Hands full of Laurent’s uncle’s emergency cash. He grinned.

“Happy birthday - to - you,” he crooned.

Laurent couldn’t help it. He laughed. “I love you, you beautiful fucking bastard.” 

Abandoning the books, Laurent moved in and kissed him. Carefully, Damen put the money down on the desk so that he could cup Laurent’s face in his hands. It was always intoxicating to kiss Damen. There was something about him that made Laurent forget himself until there was only the press of their lips.

“I love you too,” Damen whispered, pulling back a little. He’d stopped smiling; it was a moment of complete genuine emotion. He did that sometimes, always out of the blue, and it always made Laurent want to clutch him tighter and maybe cry. 

“Let’s finish up here,” Laurent said, “and then we can go find somewhere nice and fuck under the stars.”

“You always know just what to say to seduce me,” Damen said.

They bagged the money, and the books Laurent had picked, and then they made their way down the stairs again.

“Wait,” Damen said.

“What?”

“I’m hungry.” He turned into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Oh hey, chocolate.”

Actually, that was an idea. Laurent followed him into the kitchen and went straight for the pretentious temperature controlled wine fridge. “Pinot noir or Shiraz?”

“Whatever is more expensive,” Damen replied. He was adding strawberries and oranges to the bag as well. Cream?”

“It’ll go warm too fast.”

“I feel like we should unplug the fridge before we go, at least,” Damen added. “If you’re still against me putting bleach in the milk.”

“Wouldn’t that make it curdle?”

Damen shrugged. “I don’t know. I had a cement mixer in a bar once but that was lime juice.”

“You can unplug the fridge. If he dies from food poisoning, that’s on him.”

Damen started to look for the cord to the fridge.

“Wait,” Laurent whispered. “Did you hear that?”

They froze, listening.

There it was. The soft sound of the stairs creaking. Fuck. Silently, Laurent gestured towards the back door. Damen nodded. He was carefully reaching over to the knife stand.

“Renaud?” came a small voice.

A young boy, no more than thirteen, stepped into the kitchen. He was wiping at one eye sleepily in a childlike gesture. Less childlike were the bruises on his arms. Laurent knew he and Damen had matching expressions of horror.

The boy’s eyes widened as he took them in. “Who are you?” he said.

Damen’s expression was one of barely concealed fury. He looked at Laurent. “I’m not leaving until that man is in a shallow grave.”

“Don’t scare the boy,” Laurent admonished. He turned to the child and tried to look as non-intimidating as a late-night home invader could possibly look. “What’s your name?”

“Are you Renaud’s friends?” The boy asked.

“No,” Laurent said. “Definitely not. I’m Laurent.”

The boy was frowning. “You used to live here.” 

“Yes.”

“Well,” he straightened up, suddenly hostile. “You’re not allowed to come back. He doesn’t want you anymore; I’m better.”

“Where are your parents?” Damen asked.

“We’re not giving him back to parents who-”

“They’re dead,” the boy said. He didn’t sound upset.

--

The boy is obviously Nicaise. They hear a car in the driveway and Laurent locks Nicaise in the pantry. Laurent’s protective instinct rears up and he insists they kill the uncle now. Damen is fully down for it. Murder ensues. They let Nicaise out and keep him away from finding out that the uncle is dead in the next room. They tell Nicaise to pack a back and discuss what to do with him. Damen suggests dropping him off at a hospital or somewhere like that where someone can get help for him (since they can’t exactly go to the cops). 

Nicaise overhears and says that he doesn’t want to have a new foster parent; at least his current one has a big house. Laurent hearing that feels too wary to risk Nicaise getting another bad household. Damen is like, well I guess we can keep him if you want??? Laurent agrees. They go get in the car and drive away. 

-

Anyway this AU was directly inspired by the film clip for Hozier’s ‘From Eden’, you should watch it bc that’s the story I intended to write 

#captive prince #the criminals au #my writing #dancyon

[mwolf0epsilon]

Story about something crashing on little Sammy parents farm. Maybe the government comes and forces them out for a while to collect it?👽

Warning for disturbing imagery and dead animals!

Summary: Joey Drew Studio is snowed in, so while everyone tries to keep warm for the night they end up reminiscing about the oddest things they had ever experienced. Sammy ends up recalling a rather bizarre event from his childhood.

---

[[MORE]]

"I'm sorry to impose so much Mrs. Harrison. I trust Abigail will behave, she's a little angel I assure you." Sammy fidgeted with the phone chord nervously as he listened to his elderly neighbor. "Yes, yes thank you... Oh certainly! Let her on so I can wish her a good night..."

Susie watched as the tired look on the music director's face melted away to welcome a gentler smile. She could sort of hear a child's voice on the line (his little sister that he'd mentioned a few times). It was quite endearing to see Sammy with such a calm and content expression instead of the usual grumpy scrawl that scared half the band into submission.

"Good night Abby, be good to Mrs. Harrison." The call was coming to a close. "I love you too."

Susie smiled at him and nodded, taking her turn to call home now that he was finished.

"Wally is heating up soup in the break room. The stove's thankfully working." She called after him as she dialed the number.

"Everyone camping out there?" He asked as he looked back at the voice actress.

"Everyone but Joey, that devil of a man actually has an insulated office... The rest of us are sleeping by the stove." She sighed "Thankfully Norman and Grant thought ahead and brought a few blankets to stay warm."

Clever thinking and also a necessity, as Grant's office was very drafty, and Norman's booth got cold from the pipework frosting over a bit (since the music department had been a repurposed bathroom) in cold weather. Mr. Cohen also knew the likelyhood of Joey having paid the heating bill. Slim to none.

"Great... Just what I wanted, to sleep in a stuffy room full of people and the smell of that rancid soup..." A soup he'd enjoyed at first (due to it reminding him of his father's cauliflower soup which had little bits of bacon in it), but which had lost its luster on the third week of being asked to take a few cans home. Abby hated the stuff so he'd had to eat it himself. "Don't you just love getting snowed in?"

"Only when I was a child. The snow usually meant no classes." Susie finished dialing and waited for her mother to answer.

He left her alone to go back into the break room where Wally and Norman were passing around bowls of soup. Grant greeted him with a blanket, which he graciously took. The damn studio was absolutely freezing in November. The freak snowstorm hadn't helped.

Honestly he'd loved the look of a snowy New York when he'd first moved here with his father. It had looked beautiful and new, almost magical, unlike the ranch he'd grown up in until he was 11. Looking back now, he missed the expanse of snowy fields instead of the cold streets. He also missed watching a few of the animals play in the snow.

Getting stuck in the studio made him a little nostalgic.

"Here ya go Sammy!" Wally passed him a bowl of soup, which he nearly dropped in surprise, and grinned "It ain't my ma's beef stew and it definitely lacks a spoon since we don't got that many of those to begin with, but at least it'll keep you warm from the inside!"

"I, yes at least that." He sniffed it and grimaced. Pork grease and chunky bits that definitely were less bacon and more cartilage. "You ever wonder how they made this slop?"

"I'd rather not think about it. It's like hot dogs ya know... The less you know about it, the better they are!" The janitor shrugged and went to sit on one of the chairs closer to the stove. Everyone was very much huddled close by, swaddled in shared blankets, rubbing their hands together to keep them warm, or drinking soup.

Norman nodded at the music director once he sat down to join the group. Not too long after Susie was sitting beside him, and he offered to share his blanket with her.

"So, what do we do now?" Wally asked as he looked around. The issue would be sorted in the morning but it was still only a quarter to eleven and no one was particularly keen on sleeping just yet.

"I'll tell ya what we could do!" Shawn called out from his spot, voice slightly muffled by his big red scarf. "I say we pass t'time by indulging in the ye old grand art that is story tellin'!"

"Story telling? What, like a sleepover?" Jack questioned. Sammy found it amusing that he'd swaddled himself in his blanket in a way that pressed his hair tight against his skull, to the point where it looked like a makeshift scarf and ear mitts. "Like when we were little kids?"

"Well we're all sleepin' here t'night aren't we? And ya don't need t'be wee little ankle biters t'go tellin' stories." Shawn huffed "Besides, what better way t'know yer co-workers than share some harrowin' tales? I sure got a few that'll intrigue you folks I'm sure."

"Is it about potatoes?" One of the art department workers asked, only to get a slap on the back of the head and an elbow to the ribs.

"Very funny, that muppet over there's a real comedian coddin like that..." The Irishman rolled his eyes. "Right, you folk ever hear 'bout the legend o'the banshee?"

Everyone gave him a peculiar look, which Shawn took as permission to carry on.

"The tale varies some dependin' on t'person who tells ya. But the way me ma told it to me was somethin' like this: The banshee is a sweet singin' virgin, pretty as a button, a real feek." He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he recalled his mother's words. "Sometimes she has long black hair, other times it's a bright red like fire. Always pale... But don't be thinkin' she's just some little lady, oh no. The banshee is a spirit, one that heralds death in the family. Her ghastly cries precede the death o'loved ones and fill ya with a mighty chill o'dread... And I saw one when I was just a wee lad."

"Ya saw... A ghost?" Lacie wrinkled her nose. "And ya sure it wasn't some regular girl you just saw?"

"Couldn't o'been. She was right outside the window Lacie. And me room was on the second floor..." Shawn shook his head "And I knew it had to o'been a banshee. She looked just like me cousin, who died o'the shakes a few months prior. My pa always did say she might come back as the household haunt, she wasn't ready t'leave just yet."

"So, that's it? You saw some apparitions at your window and think it was some folklore horror?" Sammy rolled his eyes.

"Yep. An' then in the morning me grandpa was dead. Dreadful song she went and had t'sing. I was just 5 too! T'damn beour coulda gone bother me brother instead... He was t'one that used to scare us wee lads with these tales o'ghosts n' ghoulies..."

Well, that wasn't a very nice story. And it likely had a reasonable explanation behind it too. Just a small child frightened by tales and likely still coming to terms with losing a cousin.

"Oh, that's nothin'!" Wally grinned. "Ghost stories aren't anythin' compared to what I found in a ditch when I was 8!"

"Oh yeah? Then enlighten us, oh scare Meister!" Shawn barked back, glaring slightly. "What coulda been worse than a banshee?"

"How about a maneater?" The janitor offered.

Shawn fell quiet and others began to whisper among each other at the claim, before Norman began to hush everyone.

"Go on then... Yous can't just say that an' not tell us."

"Oh man, it was the dang scariest thing I'd seen as a kid!" Wally grinned. "Us tykes from Brooklyn? We didn't grow up with monster stories and such. Our mas and pas told us about kidnappers and murderers instead, cuzz those are like, real dangers you know?"

He took a sip from his cooling bowl of soup, before clearing his throat.

"But you know what kids are like. They like adventure and don't really listen too much cuzz, you only believe it when you see it!" He carried on. "Me? I was with a couple a pals exploring this old ditch that had some neat stuff people used to throw in there. Busted watches, trinkets, sometimes a lost wallet with a little bit of cash in it...Well that day there wasn't just goodies."

Sammy sipped his own soup and felt Susie's arm brush up against his as she got on the edge of her seat. She was excited to hear wherever Wally's story was going.

"Local news had like, been going on about this one loon that had run off from the big house or somethin'. Some big mug who was a pervert or whatever. Adult stuff we kids didn't care for." Wally looked around as he spoke. "Only he wasn't no pervert, just really messed in the head. A cannibal. A cannibal that liked eating little tots. You know, stories like Little Johnny went pokin' around where he shouldn't and now there was no Little Johnny no more? Yeah that nearly was us."

"You found the guy in the ditch?" Sammy guessed.

"Nope! Found my neighbor, Sally, partially eaten and all kinds o' messed up." Wally replied "I figured we were in trouble so we ran like our butts were on fire and screamed the whole way back. Coppers caught the fucker and his picture on the paper still gives me nightmares. If we'd found him instead, we woulda ended up like Sally!"

Everyone looked extremely disturbed at the thought of a couple of 8 year olds finding another child's partially eaten corpse.

"Shite... No wonder yer such a mog. Brooklyn's fucked up!" Shawn winced.

"Hey!" Wally pouted.

"Also your story was misleading. You didn't actually encounter the "maneater"." Sammy pointed out. "That's not how you should advertise a tale you twit."

"Would ya rather I have found the creep that did it?"

"No, next time just don't make it sound like an actual encounter when it's an anecdote about another outcome entirely."

"Don't go bein' an ass Lawrence." Norman called out. "I thought the story was good. Messed up, but good... Granted it don't top what I experienced when I was still in the cradle."

"Oh, this ought to be good." The blond smirked. "Word of mouth?"

"My Nanna never told no lie. Yous won't find a more honest lady." Norman smirked back.

At this point everyone had finished their soup and was practically laying or leaning against one another for warmth. It helped that the story telling atmosphere had all but made everyone forget about the cold.

Norman being so tall and obscuring the stove ever so slightly, cast strange shadows on the wall.

"Now, this happened a few months after I was born. My Nanna was lookin' after me while my mama and memaw was helpin' my pops and pepaw out in the cotton fields. My brother and sister wasn't that much older either, not yet ready to go pickin', so they was in their room playin' together." He leaned back in his chair, a content smile on his face "Nanna was just preparin' lunch while I was layin' in this big ol' basket full o' pillows and blankets, just sleepin' away like babies do. She turned 'round to chop up some carrots when she had this weird feelin' all of a sudden."

Sammy put an arm around Susie as he listened. Norman was a pretty good story teller. Had this voice that just pulled you in. He could almost imagine a little chubby baby in a basket while an old lady prepared food in the kitchen.

"Nanna Polk always had a feel for when things were no good all of a sudden. She'd known when Poppop weren't doing well in the head, and she knew how to pop a shot into a big gator when it got too close to the house. She wasn't afraid o'nothin'." Norman carried on. "But she was afraid. She was afraid when the blade o'her knife caught the reflection o'this big brute pullin' my basket out the window."

Sammy winces and Susie tightened her grip on his arm. The others were quite aghast as well, at the thought of an innocent little babe getting snatched away by some stranger.

"Nanna didn't scream. She didn't wanna scare my siblings you see... Instead she tiptoed towards the backdoor, knife in hand, and kept outta sight o'the man that was tryin' to take me away." Norman hummed as he thought back on what Nanna had told him. "You know, they often tell ya 'bout southern hospitality. If yous is friendly and respectful, yous always got a friend. They don't tell yous about Louisiana ladies like my sweet Nanna tho... They is forged of iron and grief. Strong and protective o'their youngins... She knew what that man wanted from me, an' she wasn't bout to let it happen."

"What did she do?" Wally asked, bitting his knuckles as he put his legs up to his chest.

"Put the knife through his back. She pushed him so he wouldn't go an' fall on me, oh 'course, and that basket well about saved my life cuzz it was damn well padded and didn't so much as wake me when it hit the ground."

"Holy shit..."

"Now, that might sound a little extreme to yous, but I trust Nanna's judgement." Norman began once he noticed the horrified looks on his coworker's faces. "That man woulda taken me somewhere no one could'a gotten me from, an' she wasn't 'bout to lose anyone else to them creeps. Nanna was smart, and Nanna was hard workin'. She buried the bastard where he fell, an' planted a tree t'remember it too. I got to put a swing on it when it grew big enough to support the weight."

"Where were they going to take you?" Sammy finally asked, once he realized no one would do so. "The man?"

"Hm, well I don't know exactly. But she did say it was where my Poppop grew up, so I know it wasn't a good place." Norman frowned. "They did bad things to him, made him messed up in the head an' dangerous. Nanna saved me from endin' up the same way... Don't care if it wasn't the right way t'do it, them folks don't deserve no pity if they go stealin' babies from their cribs t'do god only knows what."

"Well... For what is worth, we're glad your nanna saved you Norman. You're a gem." Susie smiled which got the much larger man to chuckle.

"How's that for a story then? Anyone steppin' up to top it off?"

No one seemed to have anything that quite matched the energy of this... What should he call it? Cultist kidnapping story? It certainly sounded that the man was some underground cultist if he was taking babies to indoctrinate, or whatever...

The blond watched, saw no one step up to the challenge, and then remembered.

"Well, it may not be as bad as getting snatched away. But I do recall a rather peculiar set of events from before I moved to New York with my father." He began, the band members snorting and whispering among themselves that it was probably something stupid. He glared their way before looking at Norman who gestured for him to go on.

"Floor's all yours Sammy."

"Right." He thought back, way back when he was 10. Just a year prior to his mother's death. It was all a little foggy but the more he concentrated on what his father had told him about that night, the less his explanation made sense once correlated with his own memories. "I didn't exactly grow up in the city. Not until I was 11 that is... I actually lived in a cattle ranch for a while."

"That explains why you call us sheep." Johnny laughed.

"No, I call you sheep because your job is to follow me, you damn goat." Sammy snarled back at the interrupting organist.

"Ouch." Jack winced.

"Either way, as a child living with a father who raised cattle for a living, one can expect that I was often tasked to help with a few of the animals. Mainly cleaning the pens and, if I was particularly lucky, shearing the sheep." The sheep, he confesses, had been his favourite. They were dumb and cute. "My father usually dealt with the larger animals. When this event occured, he'd just bought a big healthy heifer. His ornery old bull had covered our best breeding cow but she'd not been having calves."

"Was she called Bessie?" Wally grinned.

"The name of the cow isn't of importance!" Sammy rolled his eyes. "It was Felicity by the way."

"My mistake."

"Either way, my father was a breeder, so his breeding female not producing offsprings was a big deal. I was a kid so I wasn't particularly interested if Felicity had issues, I just liked watching her when she had little calves. They were the cutest thing right after the baby lambs." Sammy carried on "The new heifer, Clarabelle, arrived that day and immediately the bull was put to working. My father thought That'd be the end of his problems... An easy fix. Except it wasn't..."

"She sterile?" Norman asked.

"Oh I wish that had been it. I was 10, had seen animals in plenty of states from sickness or wild animal attacks. But never had I seen a cow turned inside out, other than in a damn butcher's..." Sammy shuddered. He could still remember it... Going outside to get the eggs like his father had asked, and just finding this massive dead heifer with no skin on her body. His mother had said he'd screamed like the devil himself had been before him.

"Oh god..." Susie gagged slightly. "That couldn't have been nice..."

"It wasn't. I was freaked out and my father was furious. Clarabelle had been an expensive purchase. And she wasn't the only casualty." Sammy shook his head. "The pen was wrecked, the bull was in better state but no less dead, and poor Felicity must have run into whatever butchered them both because she had a massive wound on her hind. Every animal was spooked out of their minds and even our sheepdog wouldn't come out of the house. Peed himself when we tried coaxing him."

"Did ya find what did it?" Shawn asked.

"No, we couldn't find anything that explained it." Sammy carried on. "No tracks, no trails of blood, nothing. The pen was just ruined, like it had been splintered apart, and Clarabelle looked to have just... I don't know how to explain it. Pop? Like a balloon?"

"I figure your father wasn't too keen on going' about business after that?"

"He wanted compensation, but you can't exactly put the blame on anything if you can't even find a cause." The music director sighed "We eventually just decided to call it quits on figuring out what the hell happened and went on with our lives. But then things just got... Weird."

Strange lights at night, bizarre noises, and horrific night terrors. Sammy's father had lost his patience when he'd found their dog's remains and called the authorities.

"We were all on edge, unsure what was going on at the ranch, and losing animals every night. My father called the cops, saying someone must be playing some seriously messed up joke to terrorize us. He'd made a lot of enemies with his attitude over the years, so I wouldn't have been surprised..." He trailed of, beginning to feel goosebumps as he recalled the final night of these strange occurances. "And then one night I saw something strange out of my window. Stranger than anything else."

Everyone was eager for the conclusion, he could tell. Taking a deep breath, he recounted what he'd been a witness to.

"I wasn't sleeping well, no one was, but I just couldn't settle in bed that night. It felt too warm in my room so I got up to open a window." His 10 year old self had always struggled with the latch on his window, but not that night. That night it opened without a fuss. "I saw... A figure. Out in the fields. Cast in weird green light that I couldn't put a source to. They were tall, and I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, but I assumed man because there wasn't a hair on its head... I just stared, and it looked to be staring back. Next thing I know, I'm outside in my pajamas, staring up at this pitch black figure... Taller, imposing, faceless. No eyes, no nose, no mouth... And yet it felt like it was glaring hatefully at me. Frustrated, angry... It pointed at the woods and I don't... I don't know what it wanted and I was just a scared kid."

He gulped heavily as he recalled how oppressive everything had felt.

"Again I blacked out, but this time awoke inside to my mother fanning me. My dad was yelling at the cops and it was morning." Sammy frowns "Yelling at them to get that damn thing off his property, and to fuck right off since they were so useless at their damn job."

A soft amen from a member of the writer's department. Followed by a chuckle from another one.

"My throat was raw, and when I tried to ask what happened, my mom told me they'd found me outside at the edge of the woods, screaming until my voice went. Screaming about wanting out of the woods. Screaming about wanting to go home... Screaming that nothing here was good to eat and that I was going to die... I don't recall doing it, and my father said I'd probably had a nightmare of some kind. A fever dream even, since mom had been trying to cool me down for a good reason." He bit his lip "It's odd, I'd just fallen ill overnight and everything was fuzzy... I asked why the cops were here, and my father said when he'd gone to get me he'd spotted a weather balloon of some kind in the woods. The cops were there to take it away."

Everyone stared, confused and trying to figure out how these events connected. He gave them a shrug.

"I have no idea what was going on, so don't ask. I was 10, animals were dying weirdly, and I got so sick all of a sudden that I started sleep walking and hallucinating demonic figures. No one ever said anything about the weather balloon in the local paper either, so I don't even know what to think of that." He leaned against Susie "It was weird, but it stopped. Still that thing kept appearing in my nightmares for a while... It faded with time but it bothered me while it was still fresh in my mind."

"Sounds like aliens." Wally pips up.

"No such thing." Bertrum laughed at the suggestion. "Just a bunch of vandalism, fallen governament property, animal attacks, and a child's overactive imagination."

"No, I'm serious! Stuff like that happens in farms all the time! Stuff no one can explain..."

"Wally, there's tons o' things none can explain in this world already." Norman pointed out. "I'm not sure what sorta thing Sammy might o' stumbled upon as a kid... But little green men don't sound plausible."

"Oh come on, ain't it obvious? Cows gettin' killed, the strange damages? The fallen thing in the woods? The spooky figure? The one person who no one would believe being chosen to see the alien? Then the cops just swoopin' in and covering it up? Happened just the same to my uncle Paul!"

"What I saw wasn't little or green. Don't make it another one of your outlandish tall tales." Sammy grinned, enjoying how much Wally was puffing up.

"Bite your tongue! It ain't a tall tale!"

"Sure it's not."

"Boys don't fight... Because I've got one heck of a story that'll make Norman's and Sammy's feel like child's play!" Susie cut in, with a devilish grin of her own.

And so the night carried on, with more stories to be shared. All the while Sammy laughed and listened, content with the situation.

Although... He did still wonder what he'd seen out in the field. Surely it couldn't have been extraterrestrial.

Hm... Yes, surely not. Just a bad dream and some sick prank. Had to have been.

#Eps Writes: #Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM

[thebiasrekkers]

Fragmentation 0.2 - PJM

Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,068

AN: Alright guys, get ready for these to hit the timeline back to back! I hope you’re ready! I thoroughly enjoyed writing these and yes, because it’s The Matrix, we are going to get dark in this piece. As I stated before, all information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!

Tag List: @aroseforyoongi​, @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432​

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Jimin! Aren’t you coming?”

Jimin casually glanced over his shoulder, readjusting the strap to his backpack in a more comfortable position. A few of his classmates waved to him, urging him to come along. They were finished with their studies for the day and didn’t have any after school activities that required their attention. Normally, they would head to the arcade to mindlessly spend the quarters weighing their pockets down. 

He smiled, shaking his head and waving back at them. “No, you guys go on ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His friends pouted, canting their heads slightly before shrugging. They laughed as they turned to head down the street, all of them declaring loudly how they were going to beat the other into submission in a round of Street Fighter.

Sighing, Jimin pushed his way through the crowd to head to the local library. The internet was faster there and he could focus on what he wanted to work on in peace and quiet. Stopping at a vending machine on the way, he bought a few drinks and some snacks to tide him over until he was forced to stop working due to needing sleep. 

It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for him at home anyway.

Hopping up the stone steps, he entered through the front door and smiled at the library clerk. She was a pretty woman - at least pretty in terms of being an old lady. Late fifties to early sixties at best, he could guess. Jimin never told her his name, however, but she didn’t mind. She always referred to him as “Young Man” and he answered readily with a smile.

“Research again, Young Man?” she asked, holding out a book for him.

Jimin took the item from her, already knowing that she wanted him to put it back where it was supposed to go. He smiled. “Yes ma’am.” He eyed the cover. “Ching Dynasty in the History section, right?”

The old lady beamed at him. “Correct. You’re such a good lad.”

“I try,” he said with a laugh.

“Well, don’t work too hard. I know you’ve been focusing very hard on your project these last few weeks, but you’re young and shouldn’t strain your eyes so much.”

Jimin bowed his head slightly. “I won’t. Thank you.”

He quickly maneuvered around the library, locating the history section and replaced the book. He always had a knack of finding things and Jimin just knew when things were out of place. His teachers called it a “gift” but he had a feeling that it was something else entirely. He just couldn’t place it. Not yet, at least.

Making his way toward the back of the library, he reached a few taupe colored desks nestled in a small nook in the corner. He threw his backpack on top of the shelf portion, unzipping the top and rifling around inside. He pulled out two mini discs and one floppy disc. Reaching further into the pack, his fingers wrapped around the mini computer and the wires needed to make the device work. He wasted no time booting up the computer, setting up the small computer beside the motherboard and plugging things in.

It only took him a few minutes to go through various checks to make sure that his connection was secure. Then he pulled up a few console windows, his fingers typing swiftly over the keys.

???: 

He couldn’t describe the wave of relief that hit him when he saw his chat partner beginning the conversation. Lately Jimin had to be the one to initiate the chat, hoping that he reached them. 

Cobra:

Jimin felt a bead of sweat forming on the bridge of his nose. He knew that this could possibly chase them away. But there was a chance that it wouldn’t. And the information his friend gave him was too profound to ignore.

???: 

Cobra:

???:

Cobra:

???:

It was now or never. Jimin felt like if he didn’t take advantage of this opportunity now, he would never get another one. His chance to obtain the answers to his questions would slip through his fingers like sand. He wouldn’t be able to recover it fast enough.

Cobra:

???:

Cobra:

???:

Blinking at the screen, Jimin reached under the desk and began patting around the surface beneath. His thumb brushed up against something. Curling his fingers around it, he pulled it free - the distinct sound of velcro separating shockingly loud in the quiet confines of his corner. Jimin inspected it, not sure what to make of the item his friend left for him. It was no bigger than a pack of cigarettes, but the container was made of metal.

When did they prepare this?

Though the more pressing question was how did they know he would be sitting at that particular desk on that particular day?

Just how close was his friend?

Jimin couldn’t stop the cold shiver from snaking up his back. He was nervous, but excited. Something was wrong with him.

Cobra:

???:

He watched his friend go offline, leaving him alone. He could sense that there wasn’t much time. Jimin quickly logged off, turned off the computer and haphazardly threw all of his things into his bag. Stuffing the small metal container into his inner jacket pocket, he slung the backpack over his shoulder and made his way to the entrance of the stairs.

The library building was tall - at least thirty stories. Jimin climbed them all. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves hammering around inside of his chest or the adrenaline of excitement rushing his footsteps, but he didn’t care. After months of secret conversations, he was finally going to learn something. He would release the pressure at the back of his brain, telling him that something was wrong with the world that he lived in.

Bursting through the rooftop access door, Jimin was greeted with a swift burst of cold air. The sun had long since set. He didn’t remember being in the library for very long. Was it already that late?

Jimin sensed a flash of movement from his right, his body reacting faster than his mind could process. Leaning back, he dodged a fist that was aimed for the side of his head. Pivoting on his heels, he spun out of reach just as another fist shot out - hoping to strike true. 

“Hey!” he yelled, stumbling back a few paces. “What’s the big idea?!”

Standing in front of him was a man no taller than him - Asian in origin, though he could only guess that he was of Chinese descent based on his clothing choice. He wore an off white changsan, a black fitted shirt underneath, and long wide leg pants. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses - the lenses small and round. His hair was cut short - military-style buzz cut. The man was clearly skilled in martial arts.

Jimin watched him smile and this only caused his irritation to mount further. Hadn’t his friend told him that he could trust the person he was meeting on the roof? Was this all a setup?

The man lowered his stance, placing a palm over one fist and bowing his head. After a few seconds, Jimin bowed his head also, but maintained eye contact with him. The man continued to smile at him.

“You have very good reflexes for one so young,” he complimented.

Jimin shrugged. “I guess so.”

“You move like a cobra.” He lowered his arms down to his sides. “I am Seraph. I will guide you to The Oracle.”

“The Oracle?” Jimin couldn’t hide the confused expression on his face. He’d heard rumors online about someone with that moniker, but he figured it was just some myth circulating through the dark net. “I’m...meeting The Oracle.”

Seraph nodded, fishing into his pocket as he approached the roof access door. “Yes. She has much to discuss with you. But we must hurry.” He pulled out a small ring of keys, sliding one of them into the lock. “We don’t have much time.”

Before Jimin could question Seraph’s sanity, he watched the man open the door. But instead of a set of stairs, he could see a back alley in its place. His lips parted, unable to properly fathom what he’d just seen. The moisture left his mouth and a throbbing pain began drilling into the back of his head. Seraph was instantly at his side, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You have to remain calm. Take a few deep breaths.”

He felt like he was choking. “W-What is going on?”

“Breathe, Cobra. If your mental acuity spikes too much, they will be able to locate us.”

“T-They?”

“We need to go. Now.”

It was painful for him to nod, but Seraph helped him toward the door. Once inside the alley, he watched Seraph closing the door and locking it behind them. The street lights flickered sporadically, serving as a guide through the darkness. If Seraph was speaking to him, which he doubted, he didn’t think he would be able to hear him over the thunder of his own heartbeat. 

Jimin didn’t remember seeing Seraph unlocking another door, or the two more after that, but he was jolted to a sudden halt when they stood in front of a bright red door. It looked like the kind of door that belonged to a quaint house in the suburbs. The kind of house a normal, loving family would have attached to their single family home. 

Seraph motioned for Jimin to open it, as this door was not locked. Or, at least, he could only assume that it wasn’t since he hadn’t seen Seraph pulling out a key from his key ring. He grabbed for the brass handle and turned the knob, pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold.

There was a sweet aroma hovering in the air, making Jimin’s mouth water instantly. In all of the controlled chaos, he’d forgotten to eat. The soft tones of jazz came from a radio in the kitchen. He followed the sounds and stopped at the entrance.

Standing by the stove was a woman who looked to be in her mid to late fifties. She was a little heavier built, but her curves were defined and lovely in a sweet sort of way. Her back was to him, but through her dark curls he saw strands of gray peppered throughout. Smoke billowed from an ashtray nearby where an abandoned cigarette rested against one of the center notches. 

“Um,” he finally managed, taking a step forward, “excuse me?”

“Just a minute,” said the woman, her voice hauntingly familiar, “they’re almost finished. You might want to have a seat.”

Jimin reigned his curiosity back as he watched the woman lean over to pull a tray of cookies out of the oven. Heat rushed through the kitchen from the stove, warming him from the inside out. She set the tray down on the counter, giving the pastries a chance to cool. As she wiped her hands on her apron, she turned to look at Jimin and he immediately lost his balance. He blindly reached for the nearest chair, collapsing into it.

“It...It’s you,” he stammered, looking at the woman he’d come to know as the kind library clerk, “but how?”

The woman smiled, reaching for her cigarette. She took a drag, exhaling smoke from her nostrils. “I told you to have a seat.”

His eyes shook, darting in every direction before landing back on her. None of this made any sense. Jimin’s gaze moved to the floor as he tried to calm his breathing, placing a hand on his chest in an almost vain attempt to settle his rattled nerves. He watched the woman’s shadow move closer to him until she, too, was sitting across from him. When he looked up, the older woman was holding out a plate to him - a single cookie placed in the center.

“Here. I know you’re probably hungry. This will tide you over until dinner is finished.”

He unconsciously took the cookie off the plate, but he was unsure of whether to eat it or not. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust it was safe to eat. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep it down.

She set a glass of water in front of him. “Now listen to me, Cobra. We don’t have a whole lot of time. I’m sure you’re just as aware of that fact as I am.”

Jimin reached a trembling hand toward the glass. “Are you really The Oracle?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The Oracle chuckled as she tapped a bit of ash off into the tray. “So many questions and yet I knew that would be the first one you’d ask.”

He drained half the glass in a single gulp. “Something is happening to me.”

“Yes, it is.” She pressed the cigarette to her lips. “It’s been happening for a while now.”

“Are you responsible for it?”

“No, Cobra.” The Oracle blew smoke out of her mouth. “You are.”

“What?”

“Did you bring the package with you?”

Jimin frowned. “If you’re The Oracle, shouldn’t you know that answer already?”

Again, she chuckled. “I do. I’m asking more for your sake than my own. You look ready to pop.”

His fingers moved from the glass and toward his pocket. He pulled out the small metal case and placed it on the table between them. Instead of reaching for it, however, The Oracle gestured toward him.

“Go on. Open it.”

Jimin opened the box, unsure of what he was actually looking at. Inside were what appeared to be two gel caplets. One red, the other blue. A bead of sweat slid down from his temple to his chin, dripping onto the top of his shoe. He slowly lifted his face to look at The Oracle who still had a calm expression painted over her features.

“Like I said earlier, Cobra, we don’t have a lot of time. I can only apologize for taking so long to close the distance between us. If I’d been faster, then we wouldn’t be rushing now.”

“Rushing for what?”

“To give you the answers you so desperately seek.” She crushed the ember of her cigarette out into the tray. “You have a choice to make. Right now. If you still want to know the truth about everything, about why you feel like the world around you doesn’t make sense, or why you feel so isolated in it, then take the red pill and seek the answers out for yourself.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. “How am I supposed to do that alone?”

The Oracle reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Her touch was warm; comforting. It helped relax his already fraying nerves. Her thumb stroked over the corner of his eye, wiping the tear away. “Oh, honey, you won’t be alone.” She looked every bit like a mother comforting a scared child in that instant. “But I won’t lie to you, the truth is going to be hard to swallow. Harder than that pill. You’ll probably hate me after you find out the truth. If you feel you won’t be able to handle any of that, then take the blue pill. You’ll forget all about me and what you’ve seen the very minute you step out that door.”

She removed her hand from his cheek, making him very aware of how cold the world seemed at the absence of her touch. Jimin eyed the pills in the box. What did he have to lose by taking the red pill and finding out the truth? His life here was meaningless - just an endless sequence of purposeless days bleeding into purposeless weeks, meshing into equally purposeless months until years with no purpose marched on.

Plucking the red pill from the foam cushion in the box, he popped it into his mouth without hesitation. He grabbed the glass of water and gulped down what remained, swallowing it. 

The Oracle suddenly grabbed Jimin’s hand just as he set the glass back down on the table. “Listen to me very carefully, Cobra. I need you to remember what I tell you when you wake up.”

“W-What do you mean?” Jimin’s vision began to swim momentarily. His auditory senses almost seemed heightened at that moment and he heard several heavy footsteps approaching from the living room. 

“You are going to find The One. That is the path that you have chosen for yourself.” The Oracle pressed both of her hands on either side of his face. “Believe in that path. When you discover the truth, you will come to understand the meaning behind my words.”

“Oracle, please,” Jimin managed to choke out, “I don’t understand…”

He saw several shadows circling him and different voices began talking all at once. 

“We’ve almost narrowed down his location,” said a man to his right, “we need just a few more seconds.”

Jimin gripped onto the woman’s arms in desperation. “I’m scared!”

“It’s okay to be scared. That’s normal, I promise.” The Oracle pressed a kiss to his forehead and he the distinct smell of cookies and cigarettes filled his nose. “Remember my words, Cobra. Know the path and walk the path you forge for yourself.”

“Got him!”

The world seemed to tunnel vision around him, causing his vision to grow darker by the second.

“Will I see you again?” he said through his tears.

“Yes, Young Man,” she replied with a smile he could barely see, “you will.”

And then everything flickered to black and green, the entire room transforming into strings of code. Jimin let out a scream before darkness completely overtook his sight.

“Welcome to the Real World.”

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #mknlinenet #bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scifi au #bts the matrix #bts matrix au #bts the matrix au #bts the matrix!au #the matrix!au #bts ot7 #bts thebiasrekkers #thebiasrekkers #thebiasrekkers bts #bts fragmentation #fragmentation bts #fragmentation #defragmentation bts #bts defragmentation

[xxbyimm]

His - Fíli x reader

Let’s get ourselves some protective and jealous Fíli today. I decided to incorporate the first prompt of the Tale teller’s 52 week writing challenge into my story for Fíli appreciation week. I do hope you enjoy!!! <3

xoxo

His 

Summary: Fíli is head over heels with a lady at court, and watches her during the victory feast in Erebor. 

Tags: @theincaprincess @fizzyxcustard @soradragon @deepestfirefun Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my taglist!

Warnings: Mild swearing. A bit of tension, some kissing.

‘Would you like some more ale, my lord?’ the maid asked. 

Fíli was sitting at the high table, the drained cup the lass had been referring to still firmly in his grip. The great victory feast had been in full swing for the last few hours and it showed: the attendees were finally starting to get drunk and the servants were struggling to keep up with the demand for ale and meat.

After tragedy struck and Smaug had taken the great kingdom of Erebor, the hall of kings had waited patiently for more than a century for the return of its’ people. No one had expected to experience another feast in this magnificent room again, but then the impossible happened. Smaug was chased away from his unrightful throne and ultimately destroyed: his carcass would lie in the depths of the Long lake forever. As some discussed the possibility of fishing up the skull of the once mighty fire-drake and hang it in this very hall as their revenge, those who actually had been there simply wished the dragon would stay hidden below the waters.

It didn’t matter, it was all in the past now. The battle of the fives armies was over and king Thorin would be officially crowned in the next few days. But most of all, the grand hall was filled with laughter, music and lively chatter once again.

But none of that cheerfulness reached the golden prince, because he hadn’t been paying attention. As a matter of fact, he did not seem to be aware of anything around him, but one. His eyes were fixed somewhere in the hall. The prince wasn’t eating and barely drinking from his cup, as he kept looking in the same direction. 

‘Prince Fíli?!’ the maid tried. She was getting fed up with waiting until the dwarf prince would finally respond to her. ‘Do you want me to refill your cup?’ ‘What?’ Fíli growled as he was snapped from his ponderings. ‘Ale?’ the lass repeated while swinging the carafe in front of her. ‘Oh, yeah.’ Fíli said absentmindedly, his thoughts already drifting away again. ‘I could use a refill.’ 

He did not see the girl huffing indignantly at his rudeness as she left and if he had, he probably would not have cared one bit. It was unlike Fíli to forget his manners, but tonight was different. Fíli, son of Durin, had experienced  enough dalliances and short-lived affaires to know what was happening to him, but yet this time it all seemed so… different. His heart was hammering in his chest uncontrollably and his head was swimming with thoughts. There was a restlessness swirling through his body that made him want to bust a move before it was too late, but a crippling  fear kept him glued to his chair. He could not trust on his usual charms this time, since in his current state of mind he was unable to pursue the ladies. Not that he would want that now anyway.

For he has had the pleasure of feeling and tasting her beauty and he wanted to have it again. And as she was sitting there a bit further along the hall, enjoying the festivities with her comrades, Fíli dared not to take his eyes of her, frightened that she would vaporize on the spot if he did. She was too good to be true. All his life he had wandered the earth without this mysterious concept of the One, but now he felt it through all the fibers of his very being. This was it, the real thing.

She was laughing at someone, the dwarf in question probably telling a joke. Fíli shifted in his chair and narrowed his eyes. He could not see the guy that clearly, but any male that was located within a few feet from her could be considered a threat. Her beauty was radiating, attracting suitors from all over the hall. So far, she had chuckled at their sometimes drunken attempts to woo her, but the handsome, joke telling lad across the table had managed to catch her attention every single time.

What was so special about him anyway? Fíli watched the lad’s dark manes and groaned. If she was into the burly, moody types even his uncle would have a much clearer shot at her love than he did himself.

But still, that would not explain what happened last night…

 Oh mahal, last night.

The jolt in his stomach told him neither his body nor his mind had forgotten. In fact, he had been playing the scene over and over in his head, memorizing every curve, every movement. Every word they spoke. In final, he had to conclude that she was the embodiment of perfection, a goddess in dwarf form.  

Fíli gritted his teeth when he noticed that the joke telling dwarf was winking. She giggled, shook her head and looked away. Her eyes flashed over at the high table and found the prince’s gaze. His heart skipped a beat. Just twenty four hours ago, they had been a lot closer to each other. He wished he could relive it once more. As for her, she bit her lip and gave him a small, knowing smile before focusing on the dwarf at her table again. Fíli inhaled sharply. Could that mean that she felt the same? Was the trying to say…?

Oh. No, it probably was a wild guess. She had continued talking animatedly with that joke telling lad once more. He probably had imagined the whole thing anyway…

 ‘Hey, idiot!’ Someone was jabbing at his arm, pulling him from his contemplations. ‘What now?!’ he snapped. Kíli was crouching next to him, smiling. ‘Nice to see you too, bro.’ he smirked. ‘What do you want?’ Fíli asked suspiciously. He knew his brother all too well and when those dark puppy eyes were glistering mischievously, it always meant trouble was coming.

 A lot of trouble.

 The whole mountain better prepare and hide away until the worst was over. ‘Nothing special…’ his brother shrugged. ‘I just noticed you were ogling that pretty lass over there for hours at an end, so I figured I should ask you what’s going on. 

This was just great. If even his brother, the world’s biggest ignorant oaf had noticed, he could assume that the whole hall by now knew of his lovesick behavior. 

‘It’s nothing.’ Nevertheless, he could try to divert the predator anyway. ‘I wouldn’t call those smoldering looks you’ve been giving her all evening nothing…’ Kíli grinned. ‘’Did you fuck her already?’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous.’ Fíli objected, hoping his face wouldn’t betray him. ‘Would Tauriel approve if you talked about her this way?’ ‘Certainly not.’ The youngest Durin agreed. ‘But she’s not within earshot, so I’ll be safe.’ ‘I still don’t know how you got her to fall in love with you.’ Fíli muttered. ‘I’m not sure either. But we were talking about you and your new fling.’ ‘There’s nothing to tell.’ Fíli ensured his brother. ‘And that’s the end of it.’ ‘You sure you’re not going to pursue her love?’ Kíli inquired. ‘Because it looks like she’s got a lot of suitors anyway…’

 Fíli looked up to the spot she had been occupying for the last hours, only to see her disappearing through the doors of the hall with none other than the joke telling lad. Her h/c hair was bouncing on her shoulders, the green dress complementing her delicious curves.

No, not today. He had just found her for Mahal’s sake! 

Fíli smacked down his cup on the table, the ale splattering on the wooden surface. He moved abruptly, the chair he had been sitting in shrieking loudly as he stood up. His ears were ringing, the vein in his temple pulsating. Somewhere in the distance he heard his brother cursing him.

But Fíli didn’t give a fuck that the other guests at the high table were staring at him  as he stormed away from the hall. He did not care that in the process he almost ran over three servants who were carrying heavy plates with food. It didn’t even occur to him to apologize. He was seeing red, hot raging fury spreading through his veins and corrupting his thoughts.

He could handle a lot and he would have understood if she did not want to put a name on it yet. In the end she was his now. She could talk with anyone she wanted, but leaving with someone else… 

That was it.

He could not believe that she really intended to get nice and cozy with another guy just hours after he had laid with her. She owed him at least an explanation, and it better be a sensible one.

 But by the time he reached the entrance of the hall, she and her new lover were gone. The prince stormed the staircase towards the rooms he knew her family was staying in. His boots were thumping on the stone steps as he ascended the stairs towards her family’s quarters. Fíli was beside himself. Had he simply served as a rebound? Would he have to settle with the memories of a mind-blowing one night stand? He had given her his everything, and he got nothing to show for it.

No, he could not stand this any longer. He had to know. She was going to tell him the truth.

So when he slammed the door that connected the corridor with the staircase shut and saw her walking towards his left, he took a sprint to catch up with her. The joke telling suitor was nowhere to be seen, which probably was a good thing.

‘Y/N! HOLD ON!’ he snapped. She obliged, turning swiftly to face her golden lion. ‘Fíli?’ she began with a surprised tone, but before she could say anything more the prince grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall.

Fíli had wanted to shout at her, to show her how much she had hurt him, but now she finally was in his reach again, there was only one sensible thing left to do. Their lips met in a earth-shattering kiss that made his head spin. Her body was pressed against his own and he could feel her heart beating in her chest. Her hands were clawing in his tunic, pulling him closer. His own arms had slipped around her bodice, already tugging the lace strings on the back. 

But suddenly he remembered the very reason he had chased her.  He pulled back, earning a protesting moan. His breathing came in harsh pants, and he had to take a moment to recover.

‘Do I mean this little to you?’ he finally managed to say. ‘Are you this superficial?!’ ‘What do you mean?’ she murmured, a frown appearing on her face. ‘Don’t play innocent!’ he retorted, anger flaring up in his abdomen. ‘You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about!’ 

The expression on her face changed as she did the math. Standing up straight, she met his glare. The answer was written in her eyes.

And in that instant, he knew.

Shit.

 She returned his feelings and he had fucked this up royally. But how could she if she was seeing other males on the side? Fíli didn’t understand and that made him even more livid. He wasn’t going to share her with anyone, she was his and his alone. 

‘Fíli, don’t be ridiculous.’ She declared. Her demeanor was controlled and an amused smile was displayed on her lips, but the fire in her e/c eyes was unmistakable. ‘Me?’ he scoffed. ‘You’re the one who seems to be quite busy!’ ‘Fíli, stop it!’ she countered. ‘You need to calm down NOW!’ ‘No. You explain yourself.’ He demanded. ‘First you’re acting like a little dwarfling.’ She scolded. ‘I’m a what now?!’ he dared, narrowing his eyes. ‘Secondly.’ she went on as if there wasn’t one enraged dwarf prince standing before her. ‘That, prince Fíli, was my brother…’

#the hobbit #fíli #fili #golden lion #prince of durin's folk #fili appreciation week #fili x reader #fili x you #xxbyimmwrites #tale teller’s 52 week writing challenge

[jonathananubian]

The Gentleman and the Boy Ch1 [BNHA Fanfic]

Synopsis: A small boy with a subtle power that could break the world in the wrong hands. A lesser known gentleman criminal. It was a chance meeting that day, but it was one that would shift the balance between Heroes and Villains forever.

AN: In this story Izuku's Quirk is going to be very broken and overpowered. It's based on a character from Piers Anthony's Xanth series. If you can guess which one I'm talking about- you get a cookie. ^w^b And a shout-out in a later chapter.

Chapter 1

Midoriya Izuku was born without a Quirk. By the time he was in Kindergarten the other children had begun manifesting their powers, all of them except for him. From the day he learned that he had no Quirk because of his x-rays, and that he would never manifest one, a part of him died a little. All he had ever wanted was to be a Hero. To selflessly help others with a smile on his face just like his hero- All Might. But that dream would never be realized unless he had something other than a Quirk to work with. Even without a Quirk he knew, deep down, that he couldn’t abandon his dream. No matter what anyone said.

But what if he did have a Quirk? One that was subtle? So subtle in fact that it would take someone really observant to realize its potential. And when they did figure out his Quirk they would covet it, and him.

***

Feet slamming hard against the concrete, eyes filled with tears, a young boy with green hair and freckles ran blindly through empty streets. His arm was singed and stung as he cradled it to his chest and continued to cry. He had no idea where he was going but he knew he had to run away.

It wasn’t the first time he had been beaten up by his best friend, Kacchan, but this was certainly the first time he’d ever used his power. Izuku had been so frightened by this that he had turned blindly and started running without looking back. Now he was somewhere he’d never been and was completely lost.

Turning a corner he ran smack dab into someone and was nearly thrown back. Someone reached out to him and gripped his wrist, helping him keep balance. Getting his feet under him the boy sniffled and wiped at his eyes.

“I-I’m so s-s-sorry.” The man in front of him, if you could call him that, was made of this strange black smoke that was neither cold or warm. He had felt the hand closed around his wrist and could see the suit the man was wearing but he couldn’t actually make out a face within the haze. Save for two bright spots that seemed to be the man’s eyes.

“That is alright, young man, you are forgiven.” There was a pause before the man sighed. 

“Now, why are you all the way out here?” The man looked around, as if trying to find his parent. Izuku hiccuped. 

“B-be-c-cause Kacchan b-burnt me with his Q-quirk.” The almost seven year old said, holding up his arm so the man could see. With a short, sharp, intake of breath the man reached down and inspected the burn. 

“Why don’t you come with me for now. I can call your parents to come get you.” Izuku looked up at the man, green eyes bright but inquisitive. If he was good at one thing it was seeing the good in people, and this man didn’t seem like a bad guy. After a moment of looking at the man he nodded. 

“Mm.”

***

Kurogiri was torn. He had been on his way back to the bar after doing a little shopping when something turned the corner and ran into his shins at a breakneck speed. Reflexively he darted a hand out, to do what he wasn’t sure. Seeing that it was a child he latched onto his wrist, stopping him from falling to the pavement. The boy was small, crying, and seemed to be very lost. He had to be, seeing as this was not the kind of place for children of any sort, and the boy didn’t have the look of someone born to parents involved in nasty business. That begged the question; how had he come to be there?

“I-I’m so s-s-sorry.” At least he was polite, whoever he was. 

“That is alright, young man, you are forgiven.” He pondered what to do next and let out a sigh. Normally he wasn’t one to meddle but the boy just gave off this vibe that made him want to shelter the poor lad. “Now, why are you all the way out here?”

“B-be-c-cause Kacchan b-burnt me with his Q-quirk.” The answer made him frown, the wound even more so. Who would leave a child with such a powerful quirk to do god knows what to other children like this? It was irresponsible. As he continued to look at the burn he also began to notice other scrapes and bruises. No doubt also from this ‘Kacchan.’

Offering the boy a place to wait while his parents were called Kurogiri had actually expected to be denied. Imagine his surprise when the boy stared at him, as if he could see into his very soul, before smiling and agreeing to go with him. A strange child.

As they were walking, the boy still nursing his arm slightly, he began to wonder what kind of Quirk the child had. 

“May I ask a question?” He glanced to the boy, who cocked his head to the side before smiling and nodding. “Why did you not use your own Quirk to fight back? Is it not combat oriented?”

The boy stopped dead, head falling and tears coming to his eyes again. “…Idon’thaveone.” He’d spoken so fast and so quietly that he couldn’t be sure about what he’d heard. 

“I beg your pardon?” Shuffling his feet and looking back up almost defiantly the boy took a calming breath or two before answering. 

“I don’t have one. The doctor said that I would never have one.” Well, that explains that then, he thought to himself. The child couldn’t have fought back no matter how he tried. Looking at his size he could tell the boy was no fighter. His eyes were too kind, smile too wide, and body too small. 

“I see.” Was all he replied with. The boy looked down again, as if ashamed. “There is no shame in not having a Quirk. There are a few in my own generation who did not obtain one, that I know of.” The child looked shocked but smiled. It made Kurogiri smile in return, not that the boy could see it. When was the last time he’d seen such an open and trusting face?

When they made it to the bar he held the door open for the boy. To his credit the child looked inside, frowned, and then looked up at him in confusion. “I was shopping for my work when you ran into me.” He explained. “Come inside and I’ll make you a snack.” Again the boy beamed up and him and without further ado walked right inside.

As the child began to explore the main room of the bar Kurogiri took the supplies to the very small kitchen in the back. The shadowy looking bartender quickly put together a small sandwich and a glass of orange juice, usually used for mixing alcoholic beverages. Passing by the medical kit he picked it up on the way, worried about the boy’s arm. 

“Come here child.” He said and placed the plate on the counter. The boy scampered over and climbed up on the stool. 

“Th-thank you so much!” He said, putting his hands together and closing his eyes. Picking up the first quarter of the sandwich he left his arm resting on his lap and kicked his feet. He was cheery for someone so hurt. 

“I can’t keep calling you ‘child,’ what is your name?” The boy swallowed his mouthful before answering. Someone had taught him very good manners. Kurogiri approved. 

“Midoriya Izuku. But Kacchan and the others call me Deku…” ‘Deku?’ He thought, baffled for a moment. Then it struck him. The child was Quirkless and children could be quite cruel. 

“Izuku-kun, then.” For a moment the boy looked shy. 

“What’s your name?” A chuckle worked it’s way out of his throat.

“Kurogiri.”

Coming around the bar he knelt and examined the boy’s arm once more. “This might hurt a little but I need to clean and bandage that.” It was strange how gently his voice had come out. Although he was always formal in his speech he was usually cold and logical. Something about the child was bringing out a part of himself he had long since buried. 

“Mkay.” Looking a little apprehensive the boy held out his arm. Gently the gentleman criminal began to clean the skin and was glad to see that it wasn’t as bad as he’d initially thought. He might still need to go to the hospital but there was no splitting or charring. Just a very angry burn.

Applying some antiseptic he heard the child gasp and held onto his arm firmly as he squirmed. “I know it hurts. But it will feel better in a moment.” He soothed, though why he had no idea. Slathering the ointment over the burn he wrapped the bandage just tightly enough so as not to rub against the skin. “There, I am done.” The boy looked down at his arm, his eyes showing some relief from the pain, and he smiled.

“Thank you Kuro-san!” Blinking at the child as he stood up he felt warmth spreading outward from his chest and he couldn’t help but to pat the child on the head. 

“You are very welcome.” It was as if some invisible force was gently nudging him to be kind to the child. Vaguely disturbed he moved to the back of the counter as the boy finished his sandwich and juice.

“Now then. Can you tell me your phone number?” The boy’s face scrunched up slightly but after a moment he started to recite the numbers in a sing-song voice. Picking up the phone he dialed and waited for an answer, but there was none. 

“Do your parents work long hours?” He asked as he set the phone back on the receiver. It was kind of cute how fascinated the child was with the out-dated phone.

“Daddy… he’s always gone. Mommy works at the hospital. Sometimes I go over to auntie Bakugou’s house to play.” So the woman was either a doctor, nurse, or one of the other staff.

“Do you know Bakugou-san’s number?” The boy nibbled his lip and shook his head. Kurogiri sighed. Well, the child was young. No doubt he had little on his mind other than playing games. “How about your address?” This time the child opened his mouth then closed it again, looking a little afraid.

“Mommy wrote it inside my backpack. But… I left it behind…” Honestly, this child was going to be quite the hassle. However, the downtrodden and guilty look on his face made the man relent. He was only a child who had been frightened and hurt, after all. No reason to make the situation worse. “I will see what I can do to find out where you live.”

Handing the boy some paper and a pen, since he didn’t have anything remotely colorful or child-like in the bar, he started to make a few calls. Certainly calling the police and having them pick up the child was the fastest and easiest option but with his profession that would only bring unwanted scrutiny. Glancing down at the childish drawing he sighed. The boy was clearly a fan of heroes, and All Might in particular. But he was only a child, he would learn eventually.

An hour later he had some idea of where the child’s home was but didn’t know what to do from there. It would probably be best to drop him off at a police station. He couldn’t exactly waltz in there and report him as a lost child. Yet the idea of leaving him outside alone made him far too worried. 

Looking over to the booth where the child now sat, he had gotten uncomfortable on the stool after a while, he found the boy sound asleep curled up on the bench. Such an innocent child. Trusting of those around him and never expecting anything terrible to happen. Although with how the other children seemed to bully him there was probably more beneath the surface he wasn’t showing to others. It would be easy to warp him back home but something told him it would be a bad idea. Instead he decided he would just walk the child home. At least then if someone he knew recognized him he could hand the boy off and disappear quickly. It was probably not the best plan but it somehow made sense to him.

“Izuku-kun?” He said, gently shaking the boy awake. Rubbing at his emerald green eyes the boy looked up at him in confusion for a moment.

“Dad?” He asked. Kurogiri sucked in a breath. He wasn’t sure whether to be cross at being confused for the boy’s absent father or amused at his mistake.

“Oh! Kuro-san. M’sorry. I fell asleep.” It seemed he had recovered quickly.

“I’m going to take you home now.” One quick call to a taxi service later and the boy was sitting next to him in the vehicle, watching the streets go by and muttering under his breath. This day could not get any more strange, he thought to himself.

Honestly it was a little ridiculous just how far the child had run, injured and crying, and no one had stopped to ask if he was okay. That was another reason the Hero system needed to be eradicated. There was no personal responsibility anymore. Standers-by would watch something terrible happening before their eyes and do nothing, expecting someone else to come by and just make everything better. It was disgraceful.

Stopping the car at the corner nearest the boy’s house he paid the driver and waited for the boy to join him. “This is as far as I know. You will have to show me where you live from here.” He said. The boy smiled at him, nodding, and reached up to grab his hand.

For a moment he stiffened, resisting the contact, but those trusting eyes stared up at him so he relented. From there the boy babbled incessantly about everything to do with the neighborhood. Like where his friends lived, where there was a good park to climb trees and play, that sort of thing. As they were walking he spied a couple of police officers who seemed to be looking around for something. So the boy had been missed.

“Izuku-kun.” A bright smile and green eyes stared up at him and he smiled in return. “I must get back to my work, you understand?” Frowning the child looked at the ground but nodded. “See those… nice policemen over there?” Following Kurogiri’s finger he spied them.

“Yup!” Well he didn’t need glasses at least.

“I want you to go and tell them your name and that you were lost.” After a moment’s thought he brought up the one thing that worried him, though he should have kept out of it. “And tell them about your arm and who hurt you. You need to see a doctor and someone with that power shouldn’t be using it to… hurt others.” Ugh. He was sounding like a pretentious hero now. This most certainly made him a hypocrite. But sometimes lies were easier than the truth. Particularly when talking to small children.

“Uhm... Okay. Thank you Kuro-san!” He let go of the boy’s hand and nodded politely.

“Stay safe.” He had no idea why he’d said that.

Once the boy had reached the officers the man warped himself back into his bar. The moment he stepped behind the counter everything from before came back to him and he stood there in confusion for at least five minutes. Going over the interactions with the child in his head he wondered what had made him act in such an uncharacteristic manner. Shaking his head to clear it he found the papers and pen he’d given the boy. With no remorse he threw the drawings in the trash and put the pen back beneath the counter. Well, there was no reason to dwell on a child he would never see again.

Oh how wrong he had been.

#boku no hero fanfic #izuku midoriya #kurogiri #my hero academia fanfic #quirk deku #mha deku #alternate timeline

[yaboymercury]

Gassy Lessons - Second class: Maths

It had been about a week since Jay's incident with Mr Stevens and he'd trying to avoid him since but everytime he would see the teacher he would get a little smirk which quite honestly scared the student at what it could mean.

While Jay was usually average at most of his subjects, Maths was a struggle for him and because of that he was usually part of a catch up tutor group, and since he was redoing the year, he would have to redo the group again.

As he walked to the classroom where the class was housed over the lunch break he remembered that there was one positive. The horrible teacher who usually ran the group had retired so there would be a new one, Jay thought a little on what the teacher would be like, but he didn't want to think about teachers too much ever since his smelly experience with Mr Stevens.

Jay seemed to be the last to enter the classroom except the teacher, he didn't know any of the students since he was stuck with the year group usually below him. There were only three others, two friends sitting at the back and another guy looking out a window seat. Attempting to avoid both he sat at the front middle.

When the door eventually opened again Jay was in shock at the man who walked in. Jay tended to avoid using the word since he found it a little bit of a cliché but as soon as he saw him all he could think was "daddy". The man fit the bill perfectly with styled up dark grey hair and a bushy but styled beard to match. A fuller figure than usual but as he walked past Jay noticed that a lot went to his gargantuan ass as well barely being held back by the trousers held up by suspenders.

As the man sunk into his chair he scanned the room with a kind but authoritarian glance.

"Some of you may not know me yet, but I am Mr. Johnson and as well as starting work here this year I've also been assigned with your group."

He began logging into the computer, but despite being such a boring activity, Jay couldn't take his eyes off the older man. After a while he stood up to turn on the projector which was right next to Jay's desk. Standing away from Jay, he got a perfect view at his ass, and despite his recent traumatic experiences he couldn't look away even getting a hint at his natural musky smell. As he heard the whirr of the projector firing up Jay looked up and noticed that Johnson was looking down at him, he had obviously noticed Jay staring but instead of saying anything he just smirked. Jay blushed as the man walked back to his desk and tried to forget about it.

"Now since you're all so behind with maths I've been given permission by the board to use whatever methods I please which I'm very pleased about," he said this with a smirk which confused Jay leaving him wondering what he meant "but for a while I'm just going to ask you some questions from this slideshow."

And for about ten minutes it went as so, him clicking through slides with his remote going through the questions and each time asking a different person. Despite the questions being quite normal for the students at their level since they all struggled they only got about a quarter of them right on average. And each time they failed Mr Johnson sighed or said something along the lines of "think about it harder" or "come on lads at least try". This went on until he stood up in front of the board sliding the remote into his blazer pocket.

"Alright then lads it seems this method isn't working so I think I'll have to supply some more motivation, so when you fail a question there will be punishment." And as if on queue:

FFRRRRRRRRRAP

The teacher smiled at his outburst, it had not been an accident obviously. He smiled at the students and sitting near the front Jay got a whiff of an odorous cheesy smell, he wasn't ready for this again. The other students obviously didn't know what to think, Jay looked back and saw the friends laughing a little with eachother obviously thinking it was a mistake while the other boy just looked shocked.

"Okay then, let's begin."

He started with the students in the back, the first friend was lucky to get the first question right but as Johnson strolled over to the back to ask the second the next question he admitted he couldn't answer it.

"Well then I guess you're lucky..."

Mr Johnson turned around theatrically pointing his ass clearly at its target and then.

PRRRRRARP

It was quick but loud and clear. Both boys started coughing immediately and wretching while Johnson only chuckled.

"Dude what the hell was that." The victim of the gas out complained.

"I warned you didn't I?" Johnson replied mockingly.

"I thought you were joking?" He was still in shock as were the other three students.

"You think I joke about gas like that??" the teacher shook his ass with one of his hands.

Leaving them in disbelief he began walking to the boy at the window. As he did so the second boy was still coughing mumbling something along the lines of 'fuck it stinks' while his friend got up and moved to a different seat "Man I'm not sitting in that stink cloud especially if you're gonna be shit." His friend couldn't even complain.

Johnson sat down on the windowsill in front of the other student. And unluckily for him he couldn't answer the question either. Johnson laughed at what was coming and patted his stomach. He leaned over on the sill and grimaced.

Pfffffffffffffff

The audible stream of gas could be heard. It took a moment but the boy who was obviously waiting for it to hit him went pale.

"Sir I think I'm going to be sick" and gagging he got scampered out of the class.

"Obviously some can't handle it, I'm sure you all won't blame him when you get a whiff."

Johnson wasn't wrong, when it reaches the other two they started trying to wave the smell away but it obviously didn't work as they complained and when the dirty shitty scent hit Jay his eyes got wet almost stinging at the smell.

He came up to Jay and the boy gulped. The man loomed over him looking down. But luckily for Jay he knew the answer, only just though.

"Seems like I'll have to wait to ruin that virgin nose of yours huh?" He accentuated the statement smacking his ass. Jay knew this man had some serious gaspower but he worried that soon his math ability would let him down.

Johnson got back to the first student who had now moved from his friend. And this time he wasn't so lucky.

"Ah sweet vengeance, but I think you might find it more stinky!"

Looking back in horror Jay saw the man cock up his leg in the direction of the boy like loading a gun.

FRAAAAAAAAAAAARP

It was the worst so far and Jay bet he saw his hair get blown back in what must have been a wave of stench. It was obviously too much for him as Jay saw the spirit leave his body as he slumped forward head landing in the teachers ass then sliding off it into the desk. While Jay pitied him, seeing him so close to the teachers ass made him slightly envious.

His friend obviously horrified at what happened stood up.

"Come on man we're going!" He tugged at his friend but he was out. He gave up and headed for the door but he was blocked by Johnson lifting his foot up onto the desk making a barrier of his body while also giving Jay a perfect look at his spread out ass.

"I assume you don't trust yourself to be able to get the next question right?" All the student could do was shiver in fear shaking his head slightly. "Well how about I trust you with this?" The man cupped his ass around his ass and Jay heard a light hiss as well as the other boy as he tried to splutter out an excuse, but before he could Johnson had one hand holding back the boys head while he brought the other from his ass to flat over his mouth and nose. After that all Johnson had to do was step out of the way as his students body fell limp to the floor.

And it was at that point with a scared realisation that Jay noticed he was the only one left. And what deepened his fear more was the sound of Johnson locking the door before he walked over to standing in front of him. All Jay could do was look up at the stinking intimidating man above him in the wake of him making two people pass out with his smell.

"Now boy what's your name?" He obviously wanted to get well acquainted with his victim Jay thought. He mumbled his name back promptly. "Ah well then Jay since this session is now just the two of us I thought we'd ramp it up to something a bit harder especially for my best student." Jay was terrified.

Mr Johnson stood to the side and pressed a button on the remote, when the screen changed Jay's heart sunk. He couldn't even tell what it was, a graph? an equation? a diagram? He knew he could never solve it. While he was staring at it Johnson pulled up a chair in front of the board.

"Now Jay I'm giving you two choices, you either try the question and if you get it right that's great and I'll let you out early but if you fail..." he patted the chair "you'll be my cushion for the 40 minutes left of lunch..." The idea terrified Jay, this man obviously could let out monstrous fart as much as he wanted and to think how bad they would smell straight from the source "or you can give up now and only spend a minute as my chair." As scary as it was he knew that was the only option.

"Fine just one minute." Jay stood up and stumbled towards the chair begining to lie down.

"I think you might enjoy it Jay..." He smacked his ass again, Jay bet he knew how much Jay loved a nice man's ass but this was tortuous. As the ass lingered above him Jay's sense of worry grew stronger especially when the teacher held him down with just one hand on his chest. Jay had no idea how his ass was being held back by those trousers it was so damn plump that it was filling them to the brim.

"Now Jay let me show off a quick party trick before I start the show, an unknown variable if you will." The mischief in his voice made Jay whimper. He heard the man strain a little and as he looked up from the seat of the chair he saw the seam in his ass crack start to tear, when Jay realised that this mad teacher was destroying trousers just for this torture that he knew how bad it would be. As the seat of his trousers continued ripping open Jay saw the hairy abyss underneath and could smell the unwashed musk of this man's bare ass crack. Had he gone commando today all for this?! Jay tried to squirm free but the man above was too strong. Once enough of a gap was made for Jay's face the massive daddy of a man sat down on the students face forcing the boys nose all the way up to his puckering hole.

Jay was screaming into the hole his face emgulfed in the crack, but his voice was muffled so the teacher couldn't hear shit. But the smell was burning his nose and the gas hadn't even begun. He could barely hear above him:

"Now Jay even though you've only given me a minute, I guess you didn't know that that's all the time I need..."

Jake could feel the man's stomach rumble and he could feel his bare hole moving, he knew what was coming.

PRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPTTTssssssssss

It rumbled under Johnson's ass covering Jay's face in a bath of strong rotting cheesy stench burning the boy's sinuses and filling his lungs. Jay could feel the rancid sensation filling and covering him so much that he swore it was beginning to come out his own ass. As he felt Johnson laughing maniacally and rubbing his stinky taint over Jay's face the fart lost some volume but in its place the heat became unbearable like being in a sewer on a hot day. Jay knew he wasn't going to last the minute, the fart of the man above him made him his bitch.

When the minute was up Johnson lifted up his bare ass a little to look below to confirm that his victim had blacked out, and as he peeled his ass off even the teacher wretched a little but more in satisfaction at his own sick gassy skill. And as the gassy hulk considered maybe living up to his word, he was more pleased with the idea of having a seat to soak up the rest of his lunch farts.

So as the rest of the school was out enjoying fresh air, Jay was in the crack of a big farty teacher who was eating a meal he was sure would give get him ripping stink bombs in no time.

#eproctophilia #fart #fart story #fartfiction #gay fart #gay #male fart #stink #flatulence #man fart #fart teacher

[accio-ambition]

WORLDS COLLIDING FOR SOME CAPTAIN COBRA SWAN GOODNESS. Ugh, yes. I hope you guys enjoy it. I know I do.

As always, a humongous thank you to @sotheylived, @shipsxahoy​, @queen-icicle-fandom, and @captainswanbigbang for supporting and getting this project through at some point in time in the past...god, seven months? Is that right? Math is not my strong suit.

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: M Content warning: Character death, some violent situations

FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset

Chapter Nine

Emma’s got her laptop out on the table, a plate of Granny’s finest onion rings at her side. Over the past couple of weeks, she’s accumulated approximately 67 hours of B roll, every minute of which she has to go through, edit, and send off to Jefferson, who has to approve it before filing it with HQ. So far, she’s made it through about an hour and a half.

(Thank god Ruby knows to keep the onion rings coming.)

She’s just cutting up a scene consisting of the boys playing cards down in the galley while waiting for Jones and Liam to figure out their plan of attack for the day when someone slides into the booth bench opposite her.

“So, tell me, Swan,” Jones startles her. “What is it that makes you tick?”

Exporting the clip and jotting its name down on the growing list of file names, Emma sighs. Of all the people she wanted to see right now, Jones was not one of them, especially on one of her rare days working away from the Jolly Roger. She sets her pen down and glares across the table in frustration. “My charming personality and sense of humbleness,” she says, her face unmoving and her voice monotone. She’s not in the mood for his shit.

“But of course,” he chuckles, nabbing a ring from her plate. Too late, she smacks his grabby fingers away. “I would’ve thought it was those sky high walls you’ve got me climbing, but the personality.” He munches on the onion ring thoughtfully. “No, that makes sense now.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “In case you can’t tell, Jones, I’m a little busy here.”

“Oh, no, I can see quite well.” Setting his clasped hands atop the table, Jones leans toward her, closing her laptop fractionally. “I can tell that you’re using whatever is around you to protect you from something.” He cocks his head to the side like a curious puppy, almost like he’s trying to read her. “Guard you from falling a little bit in love with this town. Or at all.”

“Really now?” Emma says, unbelieving.

(That is what she’s doing, technically speaking. Force of habit - distraction to keep herself safe. It’s worked so far, that’s for sure.)

“Indeed.” Jones nods and steals another onion ring. “Your work, your lad, your impending order of – what was it, pancakes?”

“Waffles,” she corrects himself. Emma pulls her plate closer to her, even though he has the arm length to reach across the table and take her food as he pleases. “If you had been up as late I was dealing with a sick 10-year-old, you would’ve been as grumpy as I was.”

“I’m sure that’s true.” He raises a brow and points at her. “But you did have a cup of coffee in front of you, so I assumed you’d be slightly more pleasant.”

Emma shrugs. “Assumed wrong.” And in her mind, that’s the end of the conversation. If she were in his shoes, she would bid him farewell and leave, get out of his face.

But when had Jones ever done a thing she would do? Instead, he continues to sit opposite her and appraises her. For a moment, Emma tries to return to editing her B roll, but she feels his gaze on her and it makes her nervous.

With a grunt, she slams her laptop down and glares at him. “What do you want, Jones?”

“I just want to get to know you, Swan,” he says quietly. “You’re the first civilian I’ve let on my ship, love, and from what I can tell, you’re going to be making yourself a frequent member of my crew.” Jones begins to trace his fingertip all over the tabletop, appearing to draw little nothings while he thinks over his next words. “I need to know who I’m working with. I need to know who is going to jump in the sea after a crewmate if they fall in and who’s going to stand back and watch.”

“Well, I can already tell you that I’ll be standing back and filming. That’s literally my job,” Emma quips back. Then she raises an accusatory brow of her own. “So, is that enough information?”

He sighs in frustration. “Something small,” he pleads. “That’s all I ask.” He searches their surroundings as if for inspiration. “Perhaps where you and Henry were before you came here.”

It seems like such irrelevant information. It’s something that he can find out by asking Jefferson or David or even Ruby. It’s safe. Still, she thinks about it, then decides to respond. “Phoenix,” she says. “Henry and I were in Phoenix before we came up here.”

“Quite a different landscape, isn’t it?” he asks, to which she makes some nonverbal sound of agreement. “How long were you there?”

“Less than a year.” Emma shakes her head and opens her laptop once more. “Look, Killian, I really do have to work on this stuff.”

Across the table, she sees his eyes light up despite her obvious dismissal and, idly, she wonders why he suddenly seems really happy to be rejected by her. “Perhaps we can talk later then,” he suggests.

“Sure, if you really want to,” she says with a shrug. It’s inevitable: they’re going to have to talk to each other in the future because they work together on a boat - ship - that she knows very little about. She doesn’t exactly want to die out at sea.

“Trust me, love, I really want to,” Jones murmurs eagerly. Finally, he slides from the bench and stands next to the booth. Emma watches him cautiously for his next move.

What he says next surprises her.

“When do you pick the lad up from camp?” he asks.

Emma’s thrown by the weird question, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Quarter after three. Why?”

“How about I meet you two when he’s free and I take you to my ship?”

If possible, her brows sink lower on her face. “Why?”

Jones shrugs. “Well, you may have seen the inner workings, but your boy hasn’t.”

And that’s got her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

(They’re getting quite the workout today.)

“You want him to give him a tour of your boat?”

“Ship, Swan, the Jolly Roger is a ship,” he groans, rubbing away at his forehead and the frustration her mistake causes him. “Yes. I think it’s good for a lad to know where his mother will be working, if not to meet some of the folks she’s working with as well.”

“Really?”

He nods, digging his hands into his pockets. “We’ll just pretend he’s come to your office for a little while. Meet your boss and such.”

“You’re not my boss,” Emma scoffs. “If anything, I’m your boss.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “I do love a woman in charge.”

Emma slaps his arm. “Fine. Meet me outside the schoolyard at ten after three.”

He leans forward in a slight bow. “As you wish, Swan,” he says, before walking away.

“Don’t think you’re going to charm me by quoting Princess Bride!” she yells after him, then scolds herself because she’s going to have a hell of a time editing her B roll now.

She whiles away the day doing busy work, trying not to think of what Killian had basically accused her of earlier. She knows she has walls. She knows she walks around with heavy armor around her heart. For good reason. Her life was on the right track until a man came along, got her pregnant, and then left her to take the fall for his crimes. Of course she’s going to have trouble trusting anyone after that. She thought she had loved Neal, gave him everything, only to receive nothing as thanks.

But for Jones – practically a stranger, someone she considers a coworker at most – to call her out on that. It’s unheard of.

Her past experiences are what make her eyebrows raise in confusion, but pleasant surprise when she strolls up to the elementary school to find Killian chatting with some of the other parents there. He’s laughing jollily at something a woman is saying, his arms crossed over his chest as he throws his head back. She walks up to them and clears her throat to get his attention.

“Swan!” Jones shouts in greeting. He gestures to the woman he was talking to by casually swinging an open hand toward her. “Have you met Aurora?”

“Not yet.” She leans forward with her best people smile and shakes hands with the woman. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Aurora says. She seems nice, much like the rest of the people in Storybrooke. Very domestic in her vintage dress and long hair, waiting for her children to get out of summer camp. “Killian here was just telling me about your son. I think my Phillip has been talking about him.”

“Oh, you’re Phillip’s mom,” Emma says in recognition. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Yeah, Henry was really excited telling me how Phillip had invited him to his birthday party.”

Aurora chuckles. “Yeah, he’s really excited about it. Turning double digits and all that.”

“Is the lad really turning 10?” Jones asks in disbelief.

Aurora hums and nods.

“My god, I remember when your husband burst into the Rabbit Hole and bought everyone a round in celebration of his birth,” he chuckles.

Aurora laughs. “Yes, I remember that as well. I wasn’t all too happy with him after that.” Her phone rings. As she takes it out of her pocket and finds who’s calling on the screen, she sighs. “Speaking of my darling husband. Sorry, I have to take this.”

They wave her off, Aurora heading off to the other end of the playground to speak with her husband. Emma, on the other hand, turns to Killian and says, “You’re here.”

“Of course I am.”

“You’re here early.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Sometimes Mary Margaret lets the children out early for some extra time on the playground, especially on a nice day like today.”

Emma tilts her head toward her shoulder. “How’d you know that?”

“I hear things around town,” he reasons with another shrug. “Mary Margaret Nolan, bless her heart, made her and David’s presence known the minute they moved into town.” Killian chuckles and shifts his feet a little closer together. “She came knocking on our door with cookies to introduce herself a couple days after they’d come.”

“Huh,” she hums. “Sounds like her.”

His eyes widen a bit and his brow cocks up. “You know her?” he asks.

“I should hope.” Emma says, licking her bottom lip and shaking her head. “We moved in next door. And I knew her and David when I was in school.”

“Really? You’ll have to tell me all the embarrassing stories one day.”

“Hmm, don’t count on it, buddy,” she says with a smirk, satisfied that she’s managed to shut him down.

(For now.)

(He’s trying to get under her skin even more so than he already is. Trying to create excuses to spend more time with her in an effort to make her like him, she’s sure.)

(And now that she knows he lives down the street from them and he knows they live next door to the Nolans… well, it’s a small town. She wouldn’t be surprised if he came knocking on their door unannounced.

Emma doesn’t know if she could handle that.)

The bell rings and the kids start to stream out, slowly, then in a huge crowd. As a now-sixth-grader, Henry may be a little taller than the rest of the kids, but he’s told her before how his classroom is also the furthest from the doors. So when the crowd starts to thin, that’s when she starts really searching for her son.

He appears, wet brown hair in his eyes, his pack slung over one shoulder. Henry spots her and starts jogging toward her, but slows back to a walk when he sees who’s next to her.

“Hey, kid,” Emma says happily, avoiding the obvious question in his eyes. Henry tucks himself under her arm in a side hug, her arm resting on his shoulder. “How was camp?”

“Fine. We went to the pool and they taught us how to dive.”

“You know all about that, now, don’t you?”

He nods. “I practiced on my back stroke while they taught the other kids.”

She laughs. “And how’s it looking?”

Henry shakes his head, his nose crinkling up in disgust and dissatisfaction. “Not much better.”

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” She reaches both arms around him and hugs him tightly.

Henry leans into her side, his still-damp hair soaking through her shirt. He speaks so quietly she has to lean down when he repeats it. “Who’s this?”

The moment of truth: Emma glances up at the man, who’s remained silent so far, waiting until she gives him the go ahead. His expression, however, has opened up into something she’s never seen before. It’s kinder than anything she’s seen on the ship. Granted, she hasn’t known him that long, but it’s still a bit eye-opening.

After a moment of hesitation, Emma repositions the two of them so they’re facing Jones. “Um, Henry, this is Killian Jones,” she says. “He’s the captain of the bo-ship,” she quickly corrects herself. “Of the ship that I’m filming on.” With the smile of a mother who can’t help herself but be happy around her child, Emma introduces her two worlds. “Jones, this is my son Henry.”

Killian pushes out his hand for a shake. Henry obliges timidly. “Lovely to meet you, lad,” he says. “Your mother told me that you had really hoped she’d be hanging out with pirates.”

Emma reaches out to punch Jones in the shoulder, scoffing, “I did not!”

“Swan, please,” Killian playfully pleads, rubbing at the spot on his arm where she hit him. He crouches down in front of them until he’s squatting low enough to have to look up at Henry. He leans into her son. “Do you want to know my ship’s name?” he asks conspiratorially. Henry, of course, nods. “The Jolly Roger.”

His eyes go wide. “Like Captain Hook?”

“Exactly.” Killian’s pointer finger moves and bops Henry on the tip of the nose, surprising both of them. Henry giggles and Emma can’t help but smile at the noise. “Would you like to see it?”

“Yes!” Henry shouts enthusiastically. The shy kid from minutes ago is gone as he looks up at Emma with bright excited eyes. “Mom, can I?”

Shrugging, Emma glances over to Killian, who sends her a wink. “Why not?”

“Awesome!” Jones stands up and gestures toward the water. In all his youthful joy, Henry takes the lead, half walking, half jogging in front of them with his back to all opposing traffic. “Can I steer it?”

“Afraid not, m’boy.” For what it’s worth, Jones matches his steps to hers, a slow sort of trudge that isn’t exactly exuberant but isn’t exactly hesitant as well. “We’ll have to stay docked today. My crew is making sure she’s all ready for whatever happens this season.”

“But can I steer it some time?” Henry asks, coming to a halt in front of them.

Killian looks at Emma for the correct answer. She’s not quite sure what he sees there, but Jones turns back to her son. “We’ll see, lad. We’ll see.”

Emma hangs back as they walk to the harbor while Henry and Jones walk together in front of her. Henry’s regaling him with tales of their travels – how to tell a good New York street vendor from a bad one, how nice winter in Phoenix is – and Killian, surprising her yet again, reacts genuinely and accordingly. Unlike other people – specifically men who’ve wished to pursue her romantically – Jones is treating her son as anyone should: like her 10-year-old is a person.

She catches up to them once they reach the docks, only to hear Jones say, “What in heavens do you mean, you’ve never seen snow?”

Henry shrugs. “We were always somewhere warm in the winter time. I might have seen it when I was a baby, but I don’t remember seeing snow anywhere but on TV.”

Jones looks at Emma. “I am appalled, Swan. You’ve never let your son experience snow?”

She shrugs, internally chuckling at the apparent family trait. “There were never any jobs where it was snowy.”

“A likely excuse,” Jones scoffs. They come up to the bow of the ship, Henry basically hopping on the balls of his feet. “Well, here she is.” Emma comes up to his side and accidentally brushes against his hand with hers. “The Rolly Joger.” His voice cracks, causing both her and Henry to laugh at his slip in words. “I mean, the Jolly Roger.” He blushes and scratches behind his ear. “Shall we board?” Henry nods fervently. Killian gestures to Emma. “Ladies first.”

She rolls her eyes, but heads up the steps of the gangplank before Henry does. “Watch your step, kid, there are ropes everywhere.”

“How would you know?”

“I work on this ship, remember? It’s like my office,” she says, wrapping her arms across her body to keep the sea breeze from making her more uncomfortable than she already is.

Always happy to be the center of attention and talk about something he's obviously passionate about, Killian shows Henry the captain’s roost and the inner belly of the boat. Emma notices that her son seems to be enjoying this time with Jones – some boys’ time that he’s never really had much access to. It’s not like his father was around, or any of the men she sought company with were appropriate for her son to hang out with.

Emma realizes that, though she might not exactly like Jones, maybe her son knowing and liking him might not just be the worst thing ever.

When the tour is finished, Henry’s eyes bright and cheeks flushed, Jones ushers them off his ship, onto the gangplank, and back to the docks. Once again, Henry’s basically jumping up and down between the two of them, practically hanging off of Killian’s side and surely his every word.

“Did you enjoy yourself, lad?” Jones asks.

“Yeah!” Henry shouts. “Are you sure we can’t take her out today?”

“’fraid not.” Killian looks at her. “The day is late and I should think your mother wants to get some dinner in you and then get you to bed.”

Emma nods in agreement. “Jones is right, Henry, it’s getting late.”

She turns and faces the sun to start their walk home, her flip flops slapping against the wood of the docks and then the concrete of the sidewalk. But she stops when she realizes that her son isn’t following her, or he’s dragging his feet and she’s had the kind of day where she can’t deal with that. Looking over her shoulder, Emma finds he hasn’t moved, still on the wood of the docks, staring up at Killian.

“Go on, Henry,” Killian chides him with a small smile. “We’ll take the ship out soon. You can be my first mate.”

But that’s not what her son wants promised. Even from her position a couple yards away, Emma can spot the determined features on Henry’s face.

“You promise she’s gonna come home?” Her son is so serious when he asks that it nearly breaks Emma’s heart. It’s not like she doesn’t understand where he’s coming from: his father’s already left him, he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. Just as Henry is all she has in her world, she is all he has in his.

But Killian, being the ever-confusing man that he is, crouches down so that he’s at Henry’s eye level. He sticks his hand out to her son.

“I promise.” His voice is surprisingly stern and serious.

Considering his proposal for a second, Henry finally takes Killian’s hand and shakes it. “And you, too?”

“Of course, lad,” Killian assures him, standing back up. “Liam and I have always come back to shore. If anything, we’ve only got more reason to make it home.” His eyes flicker over and catch Emma’s, as though to make sure that his words don’t go unnoticed.

And they don’t. Not by her. No, she hears every word, said and unsaid.

(It sounds like he’s coming back for them. For her. And the mere idea does not sit well with her at all.)

(Mostly because it settles nice and warmly somewhere in her middle.)

But the insinuations fly over Henry’s head. He nods solemnly and then smiles brightly, as he tends to do. “Thanks for showing me around the boat.”

“It’s a ship, lad,” he corrects him gently, “and it was my pleasure. I’ll take you out on it someday soon, aye?”

“Okay!” With that, Henry finally catches up to his mother, allowing Emma to wrap her arm around his shoulders. “Goodnight, Jones.”

“Goodnight, Henry,” Jones bids him. “Pleasant dreams, Swan,” he says with a wink.

She rolls her eyes and only allows herself to smile when she knows he can’t see it.

#csbb #captain swan big bang #captain swan #cs ff #ouat #GUYS #guyyyss #the trio is together for the FIRST TIME #AND PRINCESS BRIDE #AND HENRY BEING PROTECTIVE #AND ONION RINGS #AND HENRY HAS FRIENDS AND HES GOING TO A BIRTHDAY PARTY #were not going to see the birthday party #BUT STILL #ugh my heart #my words #storytime #ditlot

[soloshow131]

Updated show

Bring Back Chain mail -

Salterello music - 

Unit 1: Introduction 

Welcome to my castle.

My name is Thomas Paul Anthony Campe. That’s what I tell my family and friends. But I really identify as a medieval squire - squire Tom. . 

Unit 2: Self conscious 

Aye, I appreciate medieval culture. I like knights. In this day and age, I can become one! 

Unit 3: Premise 

Allow me, my lords, my ladies, to share with you the toils and triumphs, the highs and lows of my still ongoing quest of becoming a knight. 

Unit 4: A knights purpose

A knights purpose around the year 1000 wasn’t just to fight, but to serve. The word Knight itself comes from the Anglo Saxon word cniht, which means a servant – you may have noticed my dutious serving of (food) behavior before the dance. Bound to a king or lord by contract, in exchange for his loyalty, a cniht would be given lands; property on which he could grow and sell his crops. On this land, a cniht would produce heirs, the first born of whom would inherit this land and train as a squire to become a cniht! Ahh, the circle of life. 

Unit 5: My land 

My land is 1 Highfield Drive, Lexden road, Colchester, co3 3qa. My lord is the renowned sir Stephen Campe of Swansea. (Take out picture of Steve) Legendary pilot in his youth, and now a humble crafter of fibre optic cables.  

Unit 6: Cheeky

I’ve yet to produce any heirs yet, but give me time! I’ve fathered a bastard or two - you can ask any serving girl in ye olde playhouse about that.

Unit 7: Cleggy:

 They knight anyone these days. (Mock) 'Ser Nicholas Clegg', 'Bill Gates'  -  they knight Americans! They’re not even British! (Squint). Nay, I can't see them galloping into battle! Knighthood has been devalued!

Unit 8: Arthur

Where’s all the swords and chain mail? I’d grab my armour and join the queens army right away but firstly, I can’t afford any chain mail because I spent the last of my student loan on a pewter replica of Arthur and his round table - complete with all 14 original knights! And secondly, I disapprove of our military.

Unit 9: The Army:

They no longer want to get close and personal with our enemies. Everything is done with buttons or triggers from a distance. Where’s the respect?

Unit 10: Ned Stark: 

Ned Stark from game of thrones said that “If you would take a mans life, you owe it to him to look him in the eye and hear his final words, and if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps he deserves to live.”  Forget missiles, bring back flails! Maybe if weapon technology wasn’t developing so rapidly, war would slow down - and we’d actually enjoy it more! nbsp;

Unit 11: Knife and Fork

(gesture out to them) Since a child,  I’ve been developing my own style of warfare. A Squire must be innovative - In close quarters, spontaneous. I ask ye all, at what time of the day are you most likely to be attacked? On the battlefield? Nay! When you eat! Three times a day, breaking your fast, supping your supper and... digesting your dinner - when better a time to have your gullet opened than when you’re hunched over a roasted hog, stuffing your guts - or sucking the bone marrow out of a honeyed Pigeon! Fortunately, we have by our sides two companions, often undervalued as basic eating utensils. The knife and fork. (say it as fuck). Or as I like to call them, instruments of war. Versatile and reliable; let their inconspicuous nature be your advantage. A range of vendors claim that theirs is the superior quality but - I recommend ye purchase from IKEA for a well balanced pair of arms. (show knife)  

I once stabbed straight through a gluttonous hand with this beauty... if your enemy happens to have his own utensils, fear not to engage in combat. To demonstrate the effectiveness of the knife and fork, I invite a lord or lady to the stage…

 Attempt to steal my Potato! And I’ll judge your worth. You have ten seconds. But first, safety (Hand them a glove) Bard! Some battle music if you will! Oh, curse you for a villain. That won't do – leave us! My lords, my ladies, I apologize. Pray, try to conjure up some imaginary music.  

Let us begin! (Do funny voice and taunt the opponent)  

En Garde, pre, parri!

Lunge, riposte, parry, counter stab, disarmed!

(We duel over a bowl of potatoes.)

 Haha! I am victorious - but humble. I will share with you the spoils of war.  

Unit 11: Fair Maidens:

But just as a knight needs his fork, he needs a sheath for it. Fair Maidens, they’re hard to come by in Colchester. All the best stock are taken and linger outside McDonald’s, their greasy hair just like mine, glistening in the sunlight. Lady Shanara Stone of Highwoods. I’ve had my eyes on her like a Hawk does its prey.. if only I could grasp her. 

Unit 12: Favour:

She gave me her favour. A token of her gratitude.. I’ve got it here. Sometimes, I can almost taste her.. 

Unit 13: Sonnets:

She is worthy of all the sweet sonnets and ballads there are, for through her stems all good virtues.

Unit 14: Tyler:

If only she wasn’t with that vile Sir Tyler of Greenstead Estate... Friends, dost thou scent that? Lynx aroma, and more than a hint of cannabis? Hah! I knew it. Ser Tyler. Dost thou insist to fill the world will foul qualities! After I’m through with you next is your mother. HEMA club taught me this one - historical european martial arts. nbsp;

Unit 15: Knights in White Satin:

 Oh Shanara.. why him! (song)

Part of the difficulty I have as a modern day squire is that I’m all alone. I cannot trust anyone… I need loyal companions, fellow squires who too seek to bring light to this dark plain we tread on. So.. (sigh) I’ve decided to create my own order, with fresh statutes, in the hope that they’ll tempt some of you lords and ladies into joining me on my adventures.

I researched some of the rules from knighthood orders in the past such as Williams the conquerors laws. On of them is ‘One God to be revered throughout the whole realm’. Now I understand that some of us here may worship different gods, some of us may not worship any god at all, some of us may be considering worshiping a god but need a little proof. Well fear not! (take out second chair character). One god to represent them all! Take your pick, hah! He’s not much of a talker, but most gods aren't - and this one is completely physical. Seeing is believing! He’s right here guys, you can’t deny it. What shall we call him? Great. I’ll leave him here, to watch over us.

Okay law two I found on the English defence league website and it’s to 'refuse to tolerate the intolerant’ right, now I thought this would be good rule to adopt as it’s ambiguous isn’t it? We all find people intolerant and as founder of this order, I don’t mind who you chose not to tolerate as long as you’re not violent towards them. That's all I've got for now, but I've left some parchment outside the inn so do ink down some of your own suggestions after.  

To symbolise our new community I have chosen our tools of warfare and defence - the knife and fork. Now, for the special part. The knighthood. Who will step forward? You will represent all the others. Kneel. Be without fear in the face of anything that has a face. Know that I love you as a brother, and shall throughout eternity. Speak the truth even if it leads to your imprisonment and a criminal record . Safeguard the helpless and bear your knife and fork with honour. That is your oath! Welcome brothers, sisters! To the order of the Knife and Fork!

Unit 15: Reflection:

Often I wonder, do I belong in this life, do I have a purpose? I strive to be a true knights and yet  am accused of being sexist or patronising. Yesterday morning, I broke my fast at university and held the door open for a fair maiden, despite her ingratitude I remained, my arm bearing the weight of that upright plank of wood while not one, by five others passed through my gateway of kindness. Still I stood strong as ten others passed, along with ten more minutes of my life. An hour gone and the whole room had emptied, save for but a young lad who gazed at me belligerently. 

Unit 16: Ungrateful 

(To Tyler) I do this twice a week! I don’t even lift! It never gets any easier and yet no one seems to care!

Joe comes on. Tom, can I go home now? I'm tired.

Go home? Retreat? Now? You'll stay here until the end of the congregation.

This is so pathetic. You're not a knight! You're a friendless nerd who doesn't wash and mum wants you to buy more tin foil because you've left it in a right state. I'm going now.

Nay, Joe. Come, this is folly!

Piss off Tom. (leaves)

Unit 17: Give up

Who am I kidding. I’m not a knight.. I’m not even a squire. I’m a student who can’t face up to his dull reality. I return home to my mother and fathers castle, not mine. I owe them for all that I have. So many years I’ve wasted, cocooned in history, reading about greater men than me, letting my hair and finger nails grow long, chasing a way of life that vanished hundreds of years ago.. only the folks at the medieval fair here in Colchester understand me and I can’t stay connected to them for I don’t agree with modern technology! This is all self indulgence. Romanticism. Chivalry, whatever it is.. is dead. nbsp;

Unit 18: Hope 

Phone call My lady? What? You really want to come? Well, it’s at castle park… they have archery and a hog roast… I could purchase you a broach if you like! Oh, brilliant, marvellous! I shall see you at 10:66! Oh, ten past six, right. Huzzah! nbsp;

Music

[soloshow131]

Uniting

Salterello music - 

Unit 1: Introduction 

Welcome to my castle.

My name is Thomas Paul Anthony Campe. That’s what I tell my family and friends. But I really identify as a medieval squire - squire Tom. . 

Unit 2: Self conscious 

Aye, I appreciate medieval culture. I like knights. In this day and age, I can become one! 

Unit 3: Premise 

Allow me, my lords, my ladies, to share with you the toils and triumphs, the highs and lows of my still ongoing quest of becoming a knight. 

Unit 4: A knights purpose

A knights purpose around the year 1000 wasn’t just to fight, but to serve. The word Knight itself comes from the Anglo Saxon word cniht, which means a servant. Bound to a king or lord by contract, a cniht would be given lands; property on which he could grow and sell his crops. On this land, a cniht would produce heirs, the first born of whom would inherit this land and train as a squire to become a cniht! Ahh, the circle of life. 

Unit 5: My land 

My land is 1 Highfield Drive, Lexden road, Colchester, co3 3qa. My lord is the renowned sir Stephen Campe of Swansea. Legendary pilot in his youth, and now a humble crafter of fibre optic cables.  

Unit 6: Cheeky

I’ve yet to produce any heirs yet, but give me time! I’ve fathered a bastard or two - you can ask any serving girl in ye olde playhouse about that.

Unit 7: Bradley Wiggins:

 They knight anyone these days. Bradley Wiggins, Angelina Jolie - they knight Americans! They’re not even British! Knighthood has been devalued!

Unit 8: Arthur

 Where’s all the swords and chain mail? I’d grab my armour and join the army right away but one, I can’t afford any chain mail because I spent the last of my student loan on a pewter replica of Arthur and his round table - complete with all 14 original knights! And secondly, I disapprove of the army.

Unit 9: The Army:

 They no longer want to get close and personal with our enemies. Everything is done with buttons or triggers from a distance. Where’s the respect?

Unit 10: Ned Stark: 

Ned Stark from game of thrones said that “If you would take a mans life, you owe it to him to look him in the eye hear his final words, and if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps he deserves to live.”  Forget missiles, bring back flails! Maybe if weapon technology wasn’t developing so rapidly, war would slow down and we’d actually enjoy it more. nbsp;

Unit 11: Knife and Fork

Since youth I’ve been developing my own style of warfare. A Squire must be innovative - In close quarters, spontaneous. I ask ye all, at what time of the day are you most likely to be attacked? On the battlefield? Nay! When you eat! Three times a day, breaking your fast, supping your supper and digesting your dinner - when better a time to have your gullet opened than when you’re hunched over a roasted hog, stuffing your guts - or sucking the bone marrow out of a honeyed Pigeon! Fortunately, we have by our sides two companions, often undervalued as basic eating utensils. The knife and fork, or as I like to call them, instruments of war. Versatile and reliable; let their inconspicuous nature be your advantage. A range of vendors claim that theirs is the superior quality but - I recommend ye purchase from IKEA for a well balanced pair of arms. (show knife)  

I once stabbed straight through a greedy hand with this beauty. If, however, your enemy happens to have his own utensils, fear not to engage in combat. To demonstrate the effectiveness of the knife and fork, I invite a lord or lady to the stage…

 Attempt to steal my Potato! And I’ll judge your worth. But first, safety. (Hand them a glove)  

 (Do funny voice and taunt the opponent)  

En Garde, pre, parri!

Lunge, riposte, parry, counter stab, disarmed!

(We duel over a bowl of potatoes.)

 Haha! I am victorious - but humble. I will share with you the spoils of war.  

Unit 11: Fair Maidens:

But just as a knight needs his sword, he needs a sheath for it. Fair Maidens, they’re hard to come by in Colchester. All the best stock are taken and linger outside McDonald’s, their greasy hair just like mine, glistening in the sunlight. Lady Shanara Stone of Highwoods. I’ve had my eyes on her like a Hawk does its prey.. if only I could grasp her. 

Unit 12: Favour:

She gave me her favour. A token of her gratitude.. I’ve got it here. Sometimes, I can almost taste her.. 

Unit 13: Sonnets:

She is worthy of all the sweet sonnets and ballads there are, for through her stems all good virtues.

Unit 14: Tyler:

If only she wasn’t with that vile Sir Tyler of Greenstead Estate. Dost thou insist to fill the world will foul qualities! After I’m through with you next is your mother. HEMA club taught me this one - historical european martial arts. nbsp;

Unit 15: Knights in White Satin:

 Oh Shanara.. (song)

Part of the difficulty I have as a modern day squire is that I'm all alone. I cannot trust anyone... I need loyal companions, fellow knights who too seek to bring light to this dark plain we tread on. So, I've decided to create my own order of statutes in the hope that they'll tempt some of you lords and ladies into joining me on my adventures.

I researched some of the rules from knighthood orders in the past such as Williams the conquerors laws. On of them is 'One God to be revered throughout the whole realm’. Now I understand that some of us here may worship different gods, some of us may not worship any god at all, some of us may be considering worshiping a god but need a little encouragment. Well fear not! For I have on my person a solution to our problem (take out second chair character). He’s not much of a talker, but not all gods are. Seeing is believing. He’s right here guys, you can’t deny it. What shall we call him? Sam? Great. I’ll leave him here, to watch over us. Okay so that's rule number one - Nicola dear, write these down please.

Okay law two I found on the English defence league website and it's to 'refuse to tolerate the intolerant' right, now I thought this would be good rule to adopt as it's ambiguous isn't it? We all find people intolerant and as founder of this order, I don't mind who you chose not to tolerate as long as you're not violent towards them. That leads me onto my next rule -

To symbolise our new community I have chosen our tools of warfare and defence - the knife and fork. Now if you'll all line up and kneel before me, I'll knight you.

Unit 15: Reflection:

Often I wonder, do I belong in this life, do I have a purpose? I strive to be a true knights and yet  am accused of being sexist or patronising. Yesterday morning, I broke my fast at university and held the door open for a fair maiden, despite her ingratitude I remained, my arm bearing the weight of that upright plank of wood while not one, by five others passed through my gateway of kindness. Still I stood strong as ten others passed, along with ten more minutes of my life. An hour gone and the whole room had emptied, save for but a young lad who gazed at me belligerently. 

Unit 16: Ungrateful 

(To Tyler) I do this twice a week! I don’t even lift! It never gets any easier and yet no one seems to care!

Unit 17: Give up

Who am I kidding. I’m not a knight.. I’m not even a squire. I’m a student who can’t face up to his dull reality. I return home to my mother and fathers castle, not mine. I owe them for all that I have. So many years I’ve wasted, cocooned in history, reading about greater men than me, letting my hair and finger nails grow long, chasing a way of life that vanished hundreds of years ago.. only the folks at the medieval fair here in Colchester understand me and I can’t stay connected to them for I don’t agree with modern technology! This is all self indulgence. Romanticism. Chivalry, whatever it is.. is dead. nbsp;

Unit 18: Hope 

Phone call My lady? What? You really want to come? Well, it’s at castle park… they have archery and a hog roast… I could purchase you a broach if you like! Oh, brilliant, marvellous! I shall see you at 10:66! Oh, ten past six, right. Huzzah! nbsp;

Music