#or maybe im inventing the rules to make it work in my mind

[yelsapo]

I honestly think this episode was meant to be confusing in a sort of Alice-in-Wonderland-ish way, where the loose ends won't/aren't meant to be tied up later. It's confusing and random, but that's the point.

Kate tells Ruby, "It's what we all do. We see something inexplicable and invent the rules to make it work."

And I think that might be exactly what Ruby does. Stick with me PLEASE

The premise of the episode opens with a superstition: a fairy circle. Something surrounded by stories and myths that don't necessarily make sense, and yet many people form their entire lifestyles around these belief systems because they explain the unexplainable for them.

The woman that follows Ruby appears to chase people away from her, or convince them to abandon her, which is clearly a common theme within Ruby as a character. She's afraid of being abandoned.

Typically breaking a superstition means that you're going to suffer some sort of misfortune as a result, right? If you were to break a superstition that you believed in (ie. ruining a fairy circle), what misfortune would you fear most happening to you? For Ruby, it probably centers around her fear of abandonment.

We know that Ruby is supernatural in some way. She's definitely not a typical human. She can make it snow on command? Who's to say that the "silly little explanations" that she makes up to make sense of her unknown don't ACTUALLY come to fruition. What if she has the power to do that?

So, let start from the beginning. Ruby and the Doctor break a fairy circle, an action which culturally means bad luck. In Ruby's mind, her worst luck would be to be abandoned by everyone, and to never find her birth mother in the end. And that's exactly what happens.

Roger Ap William is a name mentioned by the Doctor in the first couple of minutes of 73 yards. The only information that is given is that he was evil, welsh, and almost brought the world to nuclear destruction. That's all Ruby knows. Mad Jack appears at first to be some arbitrary name Ruby reads on a piece of paper, but is later revealed to literally be Roger Ap William? How coincidental is that? I don't think that Roger and Mad Jack are actually the same person. In fact, Mad Jack probably WAS just someone's dog. They were just two names that Ruby had recently heard, and then drew an imaginary line between. To further the point, Roger is SUCH a caricature. His only three personality traits are quite literally evil, welsh, and likes nukes, which is all the Ruby knew about him.

Throughout the episode Ruby finds herself in a situation that doesn't make sense, so she comes up with her own explanations to make them make sense. She invents her own rules and her own mission. She comes up with a string of tasks that aren't logical to us, but it's the explanation she has come up with given the information that she had. She's convinced herself that it makes sense. She starts to form her lifestyle around a belief system that she created because it explains the supernatural she is experiencing.

And because of whatever supernatural abilities surround her, she's actually making her percepetion of reality the REAL reality.

(Edit: Not to mention that superstitions have been a common theme this season (ie. 14 invoking that salt superstition in WBY kicked off this season's entire plot) AND WBY is the first case in which we see Susan Twist as well...

It all leads back to that moment.)

[capn-rikshu]

This is how I imagine 'Missed Connections' to play out with my version of the Terrans.

This is also copied from a conversation.

Well first off I think instead of just the disconnect being that Nightshade's siblings want to do vigorous activities and them wanting to just invent instead, the others may just find them a bit of a 'party pooper'. They always want to be responsible and listen to elders, tell other siblings to listen to their 'mother' (Nightshade shall call Dot mother instead of mom because it just fits) and that would make the others not want to hang out with them. Nightshade will feel a bit lonely and this is when Alex gives them the book 'Winged Sentinel'.

They read it and love it. Then Hashtag comes in and swipes the book from them and she's like 'what is this'. They tell her about it and highly encourages her to read it. And she's like 'pfft im not reading a book' and starts walking away. Nightshade, not wanting to feel left out from their siblings again, tells her to wait and suggests that they should watch the movie adaption together. That piques Hashtag's interest.

They watch the movie. Hashtag thinks it was great but Nightshade is like 'the book is better'. Nightshade tries to influence her to read the book but she refuses again. Nightshade is frustrated with her refusal and then they argue. Which ends in Nightshade saying 'and I thought I found someone to connect with! Well, fine I suppose D.E O'Neil is the only one who will understand me!' They start walking away and Hashtag asks where they are going and they reply that they are going out to find D.E O'Neil. And Hashtag is like 'You don't even know where she lives.. But, maybe I can help with that'. Nightshade turns around.

[My friend suggests that maybe Hashtag wouldn't have an outright refusal and maybe she would be the one would bring up the movie, recognising it from the book. The argument would stem from Hashtag's lack of understanding of the stories themes and messaging which will lead to her making an insensitive comment that will anger Nightshade and lead to them saying 'and I thought I found someone to connect with!' I think I like my friend's edit better.]

As Nightshade walks through the cemetery they are starting to believe that this is one of Hashtag's pranks until they see a familiar owl statue and they discover the grave. They are upset now because their favourite author is dead.

The rest plays out quite faithfully of how Nightshade meets Tarantulas and how they talk. They are curious by him and feels drawn to him and when he talks about his invention they want to help. Tarantulas tells them he needs more materials for the project. Nightshade is like 'oh I know!' they then rush back to their house but on the way they have a dilemma in their mind. What they are doing is probably disobeying and breaking so many rules set up by their parents and mentor. They conclude they have a choice if they want to obey those rules or want to make a friendship with tarantulas. They choose Tarantulas.

[My friend also suggests that Nightshade should be actively looking for loopholes instead and yes! I like that way better. Better fit for the character I have in my head.]

They rush back, Hashtag is like 'you're back quick', but they have no time to talk as they grab their WIP invention and rush out. Twitch is also present and she is suspicious. They present Tarantulas their invention and they start working together on the holographic projector. They have the talk about alt modes but throw in Nightshade's struggle with their peers as well as a talking point, and also their love for the book they read. [Also throw in Tarantulas commenting how Cybertronians cannot move on from war]. They finish working and the scene of Tarantulas asking them to stay with him plays out. The responsible side of Nightshade takes over and they tell him they can't and they say goodbye.

At home everyone is waiting for them. Their parents and Bee don't look particularly pleased. They're like 'what happened'. Bee, Dot, and Alex scold them for sneaking out to a cemetery. Turns out Hashtag told Twitch about them sneaking out and Twitch in turn told the adults. Nightshade is in trouble.

Dot asks 'what were you doing in a cemetery?' Nightshade silently panics, they don't want to lie to their parents but they realise they can say a half truth, they tell them they are paying respects to a late author. Since Nightshade is a 'goody two shoes' they believe them and they just get away with a slap on the wrist. Though Dot still has lingering suspicions.

Now the scene where Dot and Alex talk discuss about Nightshade and gets kidnapped happens. It remains faithful, Tarantulas interprets the words the worst way possible, Dot and Alex gets kidnapped, and all the siblings come up to see what happened. Nightshade immediately knows and sneaks off. Now I'm debating whether Hashtag notices and follows them or not. But I feel her following would also make things a bit more complex. So the version without her following it is.

Nightshade finds Dot and Alex and demands Tarantulas to let them go. Tarantulas does not and then Nightshade causes the explosion to happen like in the show. They take Dot and Alex and start running. I imagine this interaction.

Dot: "Nightshade, you were working with a Decepticon?"

Nightshade: "I know I know, I'm such a disappointment!" [they are deprecating themself because the image of them being the most sensible Terran is broken]

Dot: "Nightshade, honey, you're not a-" And Tarantulas comes swooping in.

They all get captured and I dunno about what threat I want him to make, I don't like memory erasing devices and threatening death may be too extreme. Anyway Nightshade sees the statue again and is reminded of the book they love, they scan it and becomes an owl. Tarantulas and them fight, they talk while they battle each other. This version Nightshade actually loses against him but is able to talk him out and make him understand. Nightshade actually says the 'all of our work' line instead when the projector breaks, this makes Tarantulas realise what he's doing and backs off.

Nightshade is upset of fighting and says 'I thought I found someone who understands me' which will harken back to what they said to Hashtag. 'Likewise, little one... I'm sorry' Tarantulas will say full of regret. Tarantulas does some self reflection, he tells them that he is the perfect example of a Cybertronian who can't move on from war, he tells them that it would be best if he left. Nightshade begs him not to, he is their friend, they can give him a second chance, they don't want to be alone. But Tarantulas just says farewell and leaves and Nightshade is alone. And feels alone once more.

Soon their family arrives and they start picking up the pieces of the broken project them and Tarantulas worked on before. Everyone would've commented on their new alt mode but they can sense the melancholy aura around them so they just asks if they are okay. Now its Nightshade's turn to do some self reflection, they tell them all that they were seeking out someone who understands them, who can connect with them through hobbies and personality and that's how they met and became friends with Tarantulas, which proved to have ended sombrely. But they realise them, themself, were blind to the friends they already had in front of them - their family. Now onwards they are going to branch out and try to be more involved with their siblings, the other Terrans say the same. Hashtag is like 'alright maybe I'll try reading that book'. Nightshade smiles.

They all go home together, a bright new day looming.

The end.

I decided to not include GHOST tracking them because that would just rush things and I don't seeing them fit into this different interpretation of this scene.

Thoughts appreciated.

[ottoslab]

Otto please I have to hear about these ANTAGONISTS PLEASE why are they antags? What threat do they pose to others??? (Warning I'm so sorry but this will be very long)

LIKE CHLOE my gohd it's design is absolutely the bomb I I I my mind explodes. She looks like she's working with some type of dark..matter..thing she may have invented OR MAYBE she specialises in Shield Power I figured cause the super pretty purple swirly stuff u drew in its glove is the same colour as the badge from PN 1

OR MAYBE I'm overthinking it completely BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS SHIELD POWERS cause. Space? Like she can incase herself in a shield cause you need a protective bubble like— it makes sense in my head trust. AND ITS ROBOTIC ARM IN THE LAST PIC?! HELLO??? Is that psitanium in the middle of its palm to make her more of a menace?! I MUST KNOW WHAT HER MOTIVES ARE PLEASE!!!! Chloe seems like the most threatening out of the lineup I'm guessing hrm hrm hrm...

Maloof, Mikhail, and Elka all seem like the big honcho boss men (and lady), Elka Doom being an oracle-like psychic and all that! AND MALOOF AND MIKHAIL! AAH! LOOK AT THEM THEY HAVE SO MUCH SWAGGER NFNDNXE RAAAA!!!! I feeeeeel like they would have a sort of odd "partnership" with the Psychonauts, a sort of aliance, yknow? Like how sometimes batman will team up with catwoman, smth similar? I dunno, I'd love to hear what you have in mind with all these funky little guys 👂👂pls and thank you 🙏 🤲

PIWI i am so sorry for taking so long to respond to this i tried so hard to do some funny art to go along with it bc this ask makes my brain bark and howl (positive) but im trying to save my art fight energy.

CLAPS MY HANDS TOGETHER THOUGH. These are all really good let me get my thoughts in order

Chloe and Benny are a duo! I mentioned it before in my other posts abt her, but Chloe is definitely just sort of doing its own thing, and that just happens to cross paths with the Psychonauts a lot. She’ll work with them when she can, and work against them when they try to shove her into a box with all their “rules” and stuff. Benny is her “guy in the chair” and usually stays back at the lab unless she really needs the extra hands on deck.

i really like the idea of its main power being shield!! I didnt really think about the color coordination but youre so right to be honest, and i think it would work really well for her. Aside from her shield ability, she’s not a very naturally powerful psychic. It uses psitanium to grant itself power-ups during battle, and the big robot arm is basically a super-powered gauntlet that it can harness strong psychic energy into, using it for very powerful psi-blasts and the like..

Maloof and Mikhail are similarly not very for-or-against the Psychonauts, but definitely a lot more antagonistic. But theyre pretty much the lowest threat on the list. Maloof is sort of a goofy b-plot type villain, doing “evil” for the sake of “evil”, and Mikhail is just there to make sure Maloof doesn’t blow himself up.

They’re also the “guys” that Lili knows! Like, whenever Raz and his team need some inside info or resources and Lili mentions that she “knows a guy,” Maloof and Mikhail are said guy. Collectively. Raz greatly disapproves of the fact that Lili hasn’t turned these guys into the psychonauts yet, but she thinks that theyre harmless yet useful enough to let them roam free without it backfiring that much.

Elka is. A special case. Probably one of the ones that could be considered the most objectively threatening, but her antagonistic role is much more of an extension of a greater threat to the psychonauts. She’s the “daughter” of a psychic villain, Dorian Doom, who is attempting to use the ability of precognition to make himself some sort of future lord by giving him the ability to manifest potential futures into reality as he seems fit. She’s sort of a henchman/figurehead role, interacting a lot with the Psychonauts as if she were the main brains behind the operation to shield suspicion from him.

She’s definitely given the psychonauts a lot of trouble, but I think as of recently she’s under observation after being taken down during a big fight against the psychonauts. Mayhaps she’s building a trustworthy repertoire by using her foresight to give Raz and his team little helpful hints when they go rush into missions.

She is Definitely building a very trustworthy relationship with Dogen and definitely not trying to get him to let her out of whatever observation chamber/system they have her in. It’s totally cool and normal.

[0rbit]

poem of ecstasy, one of scriabin's most famous works; my personal favorite recording because you can really hear the best part of the song around 18:27 to the end. side note: sometimes its wonderful that classical is interpreted differently by each player but it can get annoying when trying to really conceptualize the original work.

scriabin is known to have an extremely complex mind: synesthesia, a god/messiah complex, psychosis, among other things. he was deeply interested in art and the divine, and how he could entwine the two and reach enlightenment. one of his unfinished works "mysterium" highlights this as he describes it as (what was meant to be) a 7-day long performance (its actually 3 hours because he didnt finish it) including not only a musical performance but also displays of flame, sunrise/sunset, perfumes, dancers, eventually ending in a worldwide orgy and the enlightenment+replacement of humanity.

i think what i find draws me to his music is his thin ethereal veiling of the chaos that was his mind, bringing mixed feelings of fear ,awe, and ecstasy. he's described to sit at the border of romanticism and abstract classical. his music exemplifies the feeling of being utterly consumed by the intensity of art, the universe, and the senses.

this is my favorite piece of his, maybe my 3rd favorite classical piece of all time. it's probably his most abstract sonata, the rhythm accelerates and freezes at almost imperceivable rates. listening to this makes me feel like im a video game avatar going full ragdoll; suddenly the physics and rules of this reality are tossed away and i am at the full mercy of a larger, more complex universe. it's both terrifying and ecstasy inducing for me. ultimately, art is a container of the senses, a physical manifestation of the invisible workings of human beings; when the piano was invented, one can hardly believe they expected music like this to be produced from it. i really like this quote from "20th Century Women" where a character is trying to explain punk music: "it's really interesting what happens when your passion is bigger than the tools you have to deal with it. It creates this energy that's raw. Isn't it great?" ,i see this idea applied to so many works of art i enjoy, including this one. scriabin's grandiose, cosmic-sized plans for himself and the universe were bursting at the seams of it's containment through music of his era. the ending of this one, unlike "poem of ecstasy" is very anticlimactic and unsatisfying compared to the chaos that permeates the rest of the sonata; almost like his mind is flying off the keys and into a yet to be discovered dimension.

Also this meme. Which isn’t really about how “underground” the composer is but how mentally ill the listener is in my opinon

[thehylianbatman]

Doctor Who as a Consistent Narrative, Part Four

Part One, in which I discuss the rules and the general set-up for this project.

The Previous Part, in which I discuss the Second Doctor’s era.

Now we’re in my bread and butter. This time, we’re looking at my second favorite Doctor, the Third Doctor.

CRUCIAL TV STORIES I HAVE SEEN:

Spearhead from Space The Silurians Inferno Terror of the Autons Day of the Daleks The Curse of Peladon The Three Doctors Carnival of Monsters The Green Death

CRUCIAL TV STORIES I HAVEN’T SEEN:

The Sea Devils Frontier in Space Planet of the Daleks The Time Warrior Planet of the Spiders

REFLECTION

The Third Doctor’s era is one of my favorites in Doctor Who history. The episode count was cut, the production was changed, the whole format of the show changed... really, I’m surprised it’s held up as well as it has, because, if I had been a Doctor Who fan before 1970, and all of a sudden, the Doctor stopped travelling to alien planets and started messing with gadgets and doing martial arts, I can’t imagine I would be very happy.

Can you imagine if they tried that now? Nobody would like it.

Following the tumultuous years of the Second Doctor’s era, however, the Third Doctor’s era manages to be a shining light of consistency, stability, and expansion under constraints that a sci-fi show about a time-travelling, space-hopping alien would seem like it couldn’t survive.

I imagine part of the reason this era is looked upon so fondly is because, nowadays, the before times aren’t highly referenced. They’re incomplete and in black-and-white. When it comes to Classic Who, I’m sure One and especially Two are the Doctors that are most commonly skipped by fans. Because of that, the Third Doctor is kinda like everybody’s starter course for Classic Who. He’s the metric we all know and judge by.

And I’m okay with that, because I find this era so endearing, so smart, so inventive. So, so good.

But, if the era is so good, what changes can I make?

CHANGES

Well, I don’t really want to change much about the Third Doctor’s era. I think it works fine as it is.

We start with Spearhead from Space and meet Liz, UNIT, and the Autons. Liz goes on to be the Doctor’s companion for the rest of his first season, and this is where we get the first potential for change.

Caroline John left Doctor Who because she was pregnant. But Liz wasn’t written out of the show, she just kinda... vanished.

And unlike previous companions (e.g. Dodo Chaplet), I’m okay with that.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “How could he say that, after what he’s said in the previous posts?”

But hear me out: the locations in the UNIT years change, seemingly with every story. UNIT headquarters, the Doctor’s lab, all of that. They never seem the same.

Plus UNIT has a dating controversy, since the internal chronology and the era portrayed don’t quite match up, a problem only exacerbated in the Fifth Doctor’s era.

These factors, to me, suggest that there’s non-insignificant gaps of time between the Third Doctor’s stories. Believing that there’s time between Inferno and Terror of the Autons makes it more acceptable, to me, at least, that Liz is just gone. I find it easy to believe that there was a good-bye and all that in the interim, and we just didn’t see it on-screen.

Would I give Three and Liz more content and more time together? Yes, absolutely. Liz is an excellent companion, and her and Three together are a team to be feared. She elevates the show by her presence, so I would absolutely give her more time to shine.

But I believe that to be the job of the books and the audios. In terms of the TV series, I’m keeping Liz to only Three’s first season.

However, I would still want to use her every now and then. Think Martha in “The Sontaran Strategem” and Torchwood; appearing whenever the plot’s good and could be aided by her. She’d be in the more science-y stories. Maybe stuff like The Mind of Evil or The Claws of Axos or The Three Doctors.

You know, maybe I’ll just keep Liz on? I don’t know. Some stories would definitely be improved by her presence, but if I add her to too many, she might as well have never left.

But Liz leaves after Inferno, I don’t think I’ll change that. Then we get to everybody’s favorite Classic Who companion, Jo Grant.

I feel like poor Jo can often be of a duplicitous nature. I feel like sometimes she’s portrayed as smart and tough, and other times as “exceedingly dim” and weak and scared. I’m not sure if Dicks is doing something that I’m missing and I just need to watch and remember properly, but I’d like to rectify Jo to be a bit of everything that she is.

Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there. I’m not sure.

Jo comes in in Terror of the Autons, which also introduces the Master. And that’s huge.

The Master is gonna be the lynchpin for this era. He already is, but I want to make him the focus even more so.

And here’s an idea: that’s what keeps Liz popping in every now and then. She’s studying the Master. She gets called back to UNIT, but she’s living her life, so she can’t be there all the time. She agrees on some kind of visitation, part-time basis, thing to study the Master for UNIT.

And that’d be such a good foil for the Doctor, too.

Liz’s study of the Master is less than great, we’ll say. That, plus the Brigadier and the capitalists and all that, really agitates the Doctor and makes him dislike Earth and the humans. But his companions, especially Jo but also Liz, cause him to love human culture and the wonders of the planet. The Doctor already had that, of course, but in a more general, universal way.

The Master can serve as his connection to Time Lords, against the humans, while Jo and Liz can serve as his connection to humans, to help him grow.

And the Third Doctor is the one that’s gonna do all the growing. I want him to really develop his love for planet Earth during this life. Since this is the life he’s mostly stuck on Earth for, I want this life to evolve over the series from mainly disliking Earth to loving it, seeing people like him on this silly backwards planet, people who want to learn and grow and change, and I want that to make him have a special fondness for Earth.

I don’t want to change much in Seasons 8 and 9; the companions stay consistent. Liz pops up in The Sea Devils, and maybe before for more science-y stories, like I said, but Jo and the Brigadier and Benton and Yates all stay the same.

However, I would like to add a bit more familiarity to the UNIT ranks. There are numerous UNIT members that are seen only once in the era. I’d like to change some names and make some of them a bit more consistent. Just to make it feel a bit more like a family.

Then we reach The Three Doctors, which is where all the big change happens.

The big change, of course, is the change that everybody would make, if they had the chance: they would insert the First Doctor into the story properly.

William Hartnell was in ill health by 1973 and unable to participate in the tenth anniversary special, so Dicks came up with a work-around to use Bill as much as they could without overburdening him: the First Doctor gets caught in a time eddy and can’t reach the other two Doctors.

That’s inventive, sure, but that’s a work-around for a constraint of a television show, not a functional narrative event. I want all three Doctors in the story equally.

It was also planned for Jamie to be in the story with the Second Doctor, but he was cut since Frazer Hines could not appear. I’m gonna keep that; as I said in the Second Doctor post, he’ll be without his companions for this story, and so Jamie’s absence works fine here.

Captain Yates was also meant to be in this story, and Sergeant Benton took on his role after Richard Franklin also couldn’t appear. That one will be reversed.

I’m not sure what to do with the Three Doctors. Three goes ahead, then Two goes with the TARDIS. How about One, what does he do? I don’t want to leave him on Earth with the UNIT team left behind, he wouldn’t fit in and he’d be irrelevant after the first half of the story. But if I put him in Omega’s world, I feel like he’d just be stuck trailing one of the other Doctors, or stuck doing nothing in the TARDIS. There’s no third place for him to go.

I guess I’ll have to watch the story again and figure it out. But he’ll be there.

I’d also love for Liz to be called to question what the heck is going on in the first part along with the scientist, whatever his name was. Just for fun.

The rest of Season 10 happens as it did, and Jo departs in The Green Death.

I want that to be a major moment for the Doctor. I want him to start mourning. He gets time to be sad about Jamie and Zoe and maybe also Victoria while he’s in exile, but Liz and Jo can help him feel better. But with Jo gone, he’ll get nobody and be grumpy about it.

We’ll see that all throughout Season 11. We pick up Sarah Jane Smith, and I want her character to be formulated by her time here. I’m not too familiar with either Sarah Jane and Three or Sarah Jane and Four, but I’m pretty sure Sarah Jane written by Dicks is very different from Sarah Jane written by Holmes. I’m siding with Dicks here.

Then we reach Planet of the Spiders, and it’s over. And I wouldn’t change it.

There’s a few threads to be addressed. The biggest is the Master. What is the relationship between the Master and the Doctor? Who is the Master?

We were going to get all of those answers in The Final Game, the originally-planned finale of Season 11, but Roger Delgado’s death resulted in the story being scrapped, so we never got the answers we wanted.

The original plan was for the Doctor and the Master to be brothers. The New Series took it in a different direction. And I want it to be a mix.

The Doctor and the Master are not related in any way. Their relationship is also not necessarily romantic all the time. They’re linked in a special Time Lord way that makes them entirely connected. They are describable like brothers, like lovers. They are the closest to each other that they’ll ever have, closer than anyone else could be. Through a special ritual or process or something.

It’ll be a Time Lord thing we can’t understand. And, because I like the irony of it, the term for what you and the other are is Companion. The Doctor and the Master are each other’s Companions, when it comes to Time Lord society.

Because I like that idea.

There’s also the dating controversy. This one’s simple: it’s the 70′s, but the near-future, culminating in 1980 for Season 11.

Sarah Jane clearly states in Pyramids of Mars that she’s from 1980. Going on a yearly basis, this would put Season 10 in 1979, Season 9 in 1978, and Season 7 in 1976. Still the 70′s, still the near future.

This pops up more importantly later, but I’m setting my answer now just to have it and be done with it.

Another thing is the TARDIS. The console changed during Three’s second season, and he kept that console throughout his run. I want to change it back to the original.

In The Masque of Mandragora, the Fourth Doctor and Sarah Jane stumble across the Secondary Console Room. In it is one of the Third Doctor’s jackets, along with the Second Doctor’s recorder. As mentioned in the Second Doctor post, this is where he pilots the TARDIS in Season 6B.

For the Third Doctor, however, I’ve decided that this is where he “lives”. Since this console room is less functional than the “main” console room we normally see, he goes to that one to repair and eventually pilot the TARDIS, but he stays in the Secondary console room so that he’s still where he has control over the TARDIS at all times when he’s sleeping or just living. It’s because of him that the shaving mirror is in there. That’s his private space away from the world.

One last thing is the Whomobile or the Alien or the Doctor’s car or whatever we’re calling it these days. I really want to show that more. Not in use, per se, but simply present.

Bessie is an Earth car that the Doctor modifies. He makes her better, but he realizes that, because she’s an internal combustion engine roadster from 60 years ago or so, she’s only ever going to be capable of so much.

The Doctor’s going to use his UNIT funding to build the Whomobile from scratch. Custom propulsion, custom power generation, custom body, everything. It will truly be The Doctor’s Car.

Now, why doesn’t he just modify Bessie?

Because we know that he loves Bessie for her shape and style. If he just modified it to high heaven, it wouldn’t be Bessie any more.

So instead, he starts from scratch. Because he’s Three, and he can.

In terms of expanded media... I don’t know much from this era. I’ll assess it as it comes to me.

CONCLUSION

So my Third Doctor era looks like this:

In Spearhead from Space, the Doctor is exiled to Earth and meets Liz Shaw and UNIT. That teams stays consistent until Inferno. In Terror of the Autons, we meet Jo Grant and the Master, but Liz is still around every now and then. He meets his other selves in The Three Doctors, and loses Jo in The Green Death. He meets Sarah Jane Smith in The Time Warrior, but remains basically consistent with canon all the way through to Planet of the Spiders.

This Doctor serves as a conclusion, as a culmination of his previous two selves, and I want to show that, especially through The Three Doctors. This is the Doctor that has learned everything and done so much, and puts it to use defending the Earth, and falling in love with the planet in the process.

And that sounds like one Hell of a story.

Next Time, we’ll look at the Fourth Doctor’s era.

[philtstone]

all i wanna do is wash your clothes ficlet ch. 24

read full fic

i have like 5 prompts in my inbox that i meant to work on and had trouble with all of them so i sat down to write something to loosen my fingers and this came out. a little messy, but im happy with it nonetheless. enjoy!

Summary: The washer hums. The whole room is muted and warm toned. Bucky moves his tongue into his cheek. Now would be the time to kiss her proper but he somehow can’t until he asks. The seconds ‘til re-entry to Life Chaos tick by.

“Sar,” he starts, at the same time she says, “What’s up, James?” curious, still smiling, still a sliver too unsure. A month.

“I was. I wanted to ask you – I’ve been thinking –”

The oven beeps again and this time Sarah notices. “Oh, shoot,” she says, her face creasing into a frown. “Hang on, baby –”

“D’you think you can cut my hair?” Bucky blurts out.

She pauses, chin dipping, a pair of Cass’s socks held in her hands. A little laugh bubbles out.

“What?”

**

“Mr. B?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re hovering.”

Bucky looks down at the plump twelve-year-old occupying the seat by his knee. “I’m – what?”

“That’s what my Mama calls it,” says Sugar importantly. She raises a challenging eyebrow. Everything Sugar does is a small challenge, Bucky thinks fondly. He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss it – AJ’s chattering, Cass’s gentle management of his friends, Bennet’s clumsiness and Elling’s inability to sit still. Baby Nina is walking now. It doesn’t feel like he’s been away from Delacroix nearly a month ‘til he looks at the kids that mill in and out of Sarah’s house and the neighboring houses besides.

“Really,” he says flatly. Sugar doesn’t hold with patient indulgence like her peers. 

“Mama says people who got somethin’ on their mind but don’t have the downstairs parts to ask it hover.” She sucks watermelon juice off of her fingers; there’s a big plate in the center of the kitchen table that Sarah and Sheira prepared earlier in the morning, before Bucky’s flight got in. “Milly – she’s in grade eight – she hovers like all the time.” Sugar sighs and rolls her eyes and pulls the hems of her sticky plaid shorts down against her thighs, wriggling with it because the shorts are getting too small. Too bad, as it’s nearing summer and getting the kind of hot that invades indoor spaces. “That girl,” she adds, significant and very reminiscent of her nearly-deaf grandmother. Bucky infers from the inflection that he should not allow himself to be categorized with that girl.

He’s saved from inventing a rebuttal by AJ’s loud arrival into the kitchen.

“Watermelon!” he says, excitedly, as if he has not been sampling from the plate every ten minutes all afternoon. He, too, is sweaty and sticky and breathing hard. Bucky thinks they’re playing some game of tag in the backyard; Sarah’s forbidden screen time for the day due to Bucky’s arrival. At the same time, he’s pretty sure the only reason he hasn’t been trampled, accosted, and otherwise coerced into participating in every minute of the kids’ afternoon is some kind of follow-up rule that states guests need at least two hours to themselves after arrival. Also, there’s been a promised outing to New Orleans for tomorrow, which is maybe what’s keeping the boys in check.

He decides he should probably find Sarah before those two hours are up.

He squeezes AJ’s shoulder on the way out, nods stoically at Sugar and receives a stoic nod back. It’s all so normal, so familiar. Which is why he can’t make sense of the huge tumbling nervous thing that’s sitting in his gut, pushing up into his lungs. 

read more

[mde1011]

when i got into the dsmp i started a note and wrote down any quotes or moments i thought were funny, and im bored at 3 am so enjoy some of them

how is being arrested real? just walk away!!!”

⁃ “once an american always an american. go...go protests masks...or something”

⁃ “...yEAH BUT DID YOU HAVE WAP” “what’s...whats wap?” “...WORSHIP AND PRAYER”

⁃ “HOW DO YOU LIKE POLITICS MOTHERFUCKER”

⁃ “i’m naked” “...no you’re not” “i can be...”

⁃ “uhhhh i’m in a high stress situation....i deal with these poorly”

⁃ “i should go first i’m naked”

⁃ “yEAHHHH WE KILLED AN OLD MAN WITH HEART PROBLEMS”

⁃ “what are you going to do?” “i...have no idea i think i’m gonna start out by punching a tree”

⁃ “tOmmy...did i just hear you say shit ass looking mofo?”

⁃ “i aM gOinG to gEt nAkeD to iNtiMidAtE HiM”

- “...i want freedom !” “you want BALLS.”

⁃ “...down the line. yeah that’s where we discover the art of cannibalism” “oh it’s an art?” “it’s an art”

⁃ “oh there’s some logs here. wonder what they’re saying to me. uh huh. uh huh. oh yeah that’s very racist” “tommy you gotta burn those logs.” “burn ‘em before they spread their racism to other logs”

⁃ “are you pooing?” “*whisper* i’m charging up-““ “he’s ejaculating on the tent.” “he’s WHAT?”

⁃ “he’s sPEEDING. LOOK HOW FAST HES GOING” “i’ve taken so many drugs. someone tell badboyhalo”

⁃ “we should make a pact. and that pact is, uh, we make a book...and in that book...we declare that saying ‘muffin’ is a, is a slur”

⁃ “i was thinking what if one day your bladder just,,,,stopped working.....AGGGFFFFF i was tHINKING ABOUT THAT THE OTHER DAY IVE GOT TO PREPARE IVE GOT YO PREPARE thisiswhydiapersaintthatbad”

⁃ <sapnap> i think i was ordered to um

<tommyinnit> boobed

<sapnap> kill you

<tommyinnit> boobs

<sapnap> if this happens

<tommyinnit> think about boobs man

<sapnap> tsk tsk tommy

<tommyinnit> iM DISGRUNTLED

⁃ “why is this deadman so good at making drugs”

⁃ “i just learnt that a girl hero is called a heroine and it freaked me out”

⁃ “memento memento me-“ “that’s actually the worst word i know so you can’t keep saying that” “oh, really.....? have you ever heard the term ‘racist’?”

⁃ “the person who invented the phrase ‘be yourself’ hadn’t met you!”

⁃ “you seem like the type of guy whose dad would throw him overboard as a joke but he would just drown”

⁃ “shout out to dream for twerking!”

⁃ “let’s talk......let’s talk about sex” “wonderful. what do you think about sex, lazarbeam?” “i ain’t saying SHIT in front of a sixteen year old”

⁃ “what the- i think i’m seeing things” “....tommy i told you not to drink the sea water” “well i DID drink the sea water because it TOLD ME TO”

⁃ “it’s like the movie when that guy gets stranded on an island and has sex with a coconut” “whAT?? dream- dream, you vastly misinterpreted this” “it one hundred percent does”

⁃ “oh mastICATE.....isn’t that when a fish turns inside out?”

⁃ “what are some bad words YOU know, clay?” “i don’t-“ “what about ‘terrorist’?”

⁃ “my mind has to be on the same frequency as jesus when he walked on water”

⁃ “you wanna know why i was late?” “no i really do-“ “i was having a MASSIVE poo. really just a HUGE poo”

⁃ “jUST CUZ YOU TALK ABOUT POO ONCE AND THEN YOU SEE A BIG GREEN BASTARD AMD YOUR LIFE IS FLASHING BEFORE YOUR EYES AND THEN YOU CANT REMEMBER- YOU CANT REMEMBER IF IT WAS YESTERDAY OR TOMORROW YOU HURT THAT WOMAN”

⁃ “i love america. mmmmm patriotism

⁃ “LIFE IS NOT A HAPPY SONG KERMIT THE FROG”

⁃ “please stop taking the cock”

⁃ “two four six eight who do we appreciate? not the government let’s gooooooo”

⁃ “oooo look at the dogs😍” “wHAAAAAT. WHAT. THERES ACTUALLY LIKE. A MILLION DOGS HERE. WHAT THE HELL.”

⁃ “yeahhhhh bitch i stab- i don’t stab women-“ “woooooooah tommy you stab women?” “heyyyy sapnap”

⁃ “do you know what happens whne you reach the top of the ladder? there’s only one place to go.” “.....side to side😨” “down.” “...i really thought you were gonna say side to side🥺”

⁃ “one last time.” “just like in hamilton😓”

⁃ “you don’t know how many times i’ve mistaken trees for hot women”

⁃ “ i don’t feel better i just destroyed penis”

⁃ “i’ve never seen a snail with bad morals”

⁃ “awwwwwwww😢 i’m doin’ drugs🤧 just like the good ol’ days😓” “.....define the ‘good old days’” “back when i did drugs”

⁃ “have you ever fought a baby? i have and it was trivially easy to defeat, phil.”

⁃ “the only other i egg i know about was the one i learnt about in school....not allowed to say which one....”

⁃ “did you know one of my new years resolutions is to be more like 2010 justin bieber?”

⁃ “apparently cats don’t lay eggs”

⁃ “thinking about trees- if i saw a tree with a beard mmmmmm...holy shit id hit it”

⁃ “we’re in hell dude. science doesn’t matter here”

⁃ “i cant die i cant die i’m GOD”

⁃ “hey pig your letter is the same as pussy, hmm?”

⁃ “are we cool are we COOL guys? CRYSTAL COOL like CRYSTAL METH”

⁃ “he- he’s crying because - because i killed his mother isn’t that right? mother dearest mother deadest mother gonest”

⁃ “bro ive been drinking since i was six and let me tell you...it’s not good to be drinking that young. led to some poor life decisions when i was 8” “what did you do” “i cant say” “...who did you hurt” “....only myself”

⁃ “je suis” “ay i know what that mean you prick” “what does it mean” “it means you’re racist dickhead”

⁃ “i’d never poo in the presence of a women- which is why i’m scared to get a girlfriend i think i’d just explode”

⁃ “biff tannen is one of my idols”

⁃ “black widow died and i thought ‘wow it should’ve been the man’ because he’s a man”

⁃ “there’s a character called captain america and i think he’s stupid”

⁃ “i’m a GOOD LAD i’ve got GOOD MORALS and if i’ve DONE SOMETHING WRONG it WASNT MY FAULT I JUST GOT A LITTLE EXCITED”

⁃ “sam....what’s the longest you’ve ever wiped your arse? for me it’s 48 minutes”

⁃ “why are you standing in the shitter?” “....that’s a SINK” “uhhh welllll” “hAVE YOU SHAT IN THE SINK?????”

⁃ “you’re like a living ghost” “...i think that’s called a human, tubbo”

⁃ “maybe i accidentally kill ranboo and we just never see him again *laughs* ay? and then i go ‘april foooools!!!’ and then i kill their child. i kill him”

⁃ “you built a penis” “it’s a PENIS OF SAFETY”

⁃ “i saw the penis of safety and i pressed mouse button four my friend”

⁃ “the penis on the other side of the river is larger” “ive heard that before....”

⁃ “you’ve turned the penis into a wall” “a wall of safety is better than a penis of safety” “i think the penis was better���

⁃ “if you wanna make a penis i know where we can make a penis and i know how big we can make it”

⁃ “i don’t conceptualize death but i think i just saw it!”

⁃ “yeah i- yeah i know i’m- my first impression on eret was making him read a shrek fan fiction so- i’m not one for first impressions”

⁃ “i-i’m scared for him- i’m scared OF him. yknow the first thing he did when he saw me was imMEDIATELY strip down then jump off then immediately die?”

⁃ “where are you?” “getting stabbed, one second”

⁃ “you’ve seen the joker?” “yea-“ “i resonate a lot with that man” “...oH. oh. that’s- that’s not-“

⁃ “he bURNT DOWN MY HOUSE” “out of LOVE”

⁃ “ohhhh my god stop making me play with the neighbor kid” “o-okay if you don’t go play with him i’m kicking you out of the house-“ “wHAT THE FUCK???”

⁃ “there’s a STRIP CLUB” “oh yeah for wood!” “are you into strippers?” “i mean all it does is make the wood look different so....yeah it doesn’t really do much”

⁃ “no no we have categories, we have the poo-saster- you might have to take a shower after-“ “no, no i’m gonna stop you right there”

⁃ “as i was saying you can have a 1-to-3 wiper, that’s an A-tier poo, my friend”

⁃ “i want you to eat your sock”

⁃ “you know i’m a child- i’m a minor” “sO AM I DICKHEAD”

⁃ “everyone is calling you dresus” “yeah i am”

⁃ “ayyyy ayyyy los DROGAS LOS DROGAS” “no no big q- she’s thirteen- how does this happen with every 13 year old girl you meet?”

⁃ “my poo has muscles like i do”

⁃ “i cant hear the words among us without crying they’ll say there are aliens among us and in the back youll just hear me *choking noises*”

⁃ “tubbo...tubbo is like...tubbo is like mary” “.....did you just call me the Virgin Mary?”

⁃ “i’m just saying, have you ever seen me and jesus in the same room?”

⁃ “do you smoke sam” “all the time”

⁃ “i thought you were talking about the- the speeeeed drug”

⁃ “have you ever sold drugs to kids sam?” “......no”

⁃ “we can’t let the girlboss rule because she will gatekeepe my feelings” “that would not be good”

⁃ “THEY DIDNT INVITE ME TO KILL ME???? NOW I HAVE FOMO”

⁃ “you have obviously taken part in scientology-“ “i have not-“ “you’ve donated to tom cruises cult shit”

⁃ “....am i worse than david dobrik?” “are- are we worse than david dobrik?” “oh- oh god”

⁃ “he has broke one of the rules of the hit best seller ‘the bible’- this kind of looks like a cock”

⁃ “well i’ve moved now, KING”

⁃ “what is an angsty teen and am i one? because when i USED to hang out with my friends they use the word angst a lot”

⁃ “yeah yeah yeah i bench”

⁃ “sam i think i’m angsty i think i’m an angsty tik tok teen looking for a community to help me out”

⁃ “i don’t think you’ve followed the train of logic all the way-“ “there’s a TRAIN INVOLVED????????”

⁃ “i’m like the orange fucker from that animated rom com”

⁃ “i’m under the influence of big cock”

⁃ “it’s meeee big cock man”

⁃ “i cant look away” “sam please use your twitter alt for this” “he’s horny on maaaainnnnn” “and what’s wrong with that?” “.......”

⁃ “you’re a FUCKING IDIOT” “IM NOT A FUCKING IDIOT, BIG COCK”

⁃ “i’m gonna call you ‘cockity’ big cock” “sHUT THE FUCK UP SHUT THE FUCK UP-“

⁃ “STOP LOOKING AT IT” “ITS SO VIBRANT”

⁃ “at least this guy doesn’t have a cock-“ “itS NOT A COCK” “horny on main jesus-“

⁃ “is that a cock” “SHUT THE FUCK UP”

⁃ “.....i wanna see the inside of it again do a split”

⁃ “okay sam-“ “tommy that guy wants your cock-“ “no- no he doesn’t sam”

⁃ “sam, sam and i need you to hear this....dont. act. up.” “i don’t act up-“ “you were acting up-“ “i-“ “you were caught in 8k.” “but- but we both agree it’s not a tie-“

⁃ “please don’t tell me to kill cockity i am overwhelmed”

⁃ “why is there an anus in my tie?”

⁃ “what are the legal implications of this?” “...i mean besides hell you’re good”

⁃ “whatre the legal implications?” “i mean usually that’s a no-no but today, today it’s fine” “yeahhh lets go murder his family”

⁃ “i’d be an antivax landlord”

⁃ “jesus never does drugs” “well- well you turned water into wine king and wine is alcohol”

⁃ “can you put on pants i can’t- i cant stop looking at it- sorry tommy i know you said-“ “yeah sam i know you tried-“

⁃ “you know i fuck with satan”

⁃ “i’m sorry jesus lucifer is just such a good man-“ “oh you- hold me BACK FROM THIS FUCKER HOLD ME BACK ILL SEND HIM TO HELL YOU LIKE HELL-“

⁃ “are you jesus or just a man who grew a beard and put on a suit?”

⁃ “even the guy with his cock out is telling you to stop-“ “oh jesus, and i mean jesus-“ “shUT THE FUCK UP MAN”

⁃ “the best best way to slander him is to stop his offspring; we need to kick him the balls.....no? not a good....? alright us four each take a ball-“

⁃ “......why did jesus give him four scrotums man🙁🙁”

[wizisbored]

Does the netherworld in snakeoil work like a mixture between the movie and the cartoon versions? Because if ghosts and monsters are buying things, similar to the owl house but more fucked up, it sounds like its sorta got the toon version of the netherworld with some of the creepy aesthetics of the movie netherworld civil offices. Or are you worldbuilding it to be something else with different rules, because youve only mentioned that blood sells well and I kinda love worldbuilding when it comes to the netherworld and how people make it work

its a bit of a mix and mash, yeah, though bearing in mind ive only seen one episode of the cartoon so it doesnt have that much influence other than the fact that there is actually a sort of society there.

the main premisce is that the netherworld was, originally, an empty black void. and it remains a black void, but the ghosts have added buildings. theres no natural resources there though, so everything consists of materials brought in by ghosts with the rare ability to visit the living world and are quite make-do. a lot of it is small, shanty town type places made of boards and sheet metal. very cluttered, very messy. theres no weather, so roofs are largely optional. a lot of these 'towns' are quite spaced out, with big stretches of possibly sandworm-infested void in between. i kinda want there to be some other afterlife wildlife as well, ill have to brainstorm that.

obviously it would be very easy to get lost in those open spaces, so there's roads. most roads are really just a painted line that serve to both guide the way and help you remember where the ground is. some have wooden boards over all or some of their length, mostly laid end-to-end. only the real fancy roads have boards laid sideways to create more of a path, because that takes a lot of board. since theres no terrain to traverse most roads are as the crow flies, sometimes with sharp sudden bends as the person making them realised they were going the wrong way.

the economy is based off bartering, trade, and monopoly money. not sure what they used before the invention of monopoly, but thats what they do now. the playing pieces are used as coins too, but im yet to decide how much theyre worth. also not sure how they give starting funds to ghosts without affecting the economy, because there is definately not enough structure to have ghosts paying taxes. maybe they just dont give a shit about the state of the economy. maybe the handbook tells you to bring your monopoly set to the afterlife with you. idk.

my original thought was that beetlejuice was based out of some self-storage place, but with this new idea i dont think they have those. so the new idea is that hes got his own kinda home base in the middle of the void, equal distance from a few towns that he trades in. gotta figure out how he gets to all those towns because id like something a bit more interesting than walking, but that will probably end up depending on what animals i put in the netherworld (riding sandworms? skelleton horses? sled hellhounds? who knows)

but anyway yes that is the netherworld as it appears in snake oil. almost like a typical western setting, in a way, but with more forgetting where the ground is and falling through the void. im thinking maybe after meeting skye her and lydia have to go to a few different towns on their quest to get her home, but im still not certain.

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Tony Stark’s Exception

Summary: Tony Stark finds something he doesn’t mind being handed to him.  Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader Word Count: 1100 Warnings: Cursing, pregnancy, hospital childbirth.  Square Filled: First Child for @marvelfluffbingo​.  A/N: Tryinggggg to get some characters that aren’t Seb or Bucky for you lovelies since I just wrapped up IYJR and have Buckvember coming up, so be on the lookout this week! Happy Reading :)

After plopping into the backseat of the limo, press and fans nipping at his heels, Tony let out a deep breath. 

“Back to the hotel, boss?” Happy inquired from the driver’s seat. 

Tony squeezed his eyes shut as he thought. “Food first. Then hotel.”

Happy whistled as he carefully pulled away from the curb, the reporters and fans. Tony remembered his phone buzzing a few times in his pocket during the press conference, so he lifted up to dig the device from his pocket; several missed messages from Y/N had him wincing as he dialed her back. 

“Anthony Edward Stark!” she screeched into the phone the moment the line connected. “With all the motherfucking technology you have invented and carry with you, and I can’t get a hold of you when I need to! Are you shitting me! Oh, but let aliens come down through a hole in the sky —”

Tony cleared his throat. “Darling, you seem to be having some kind of emergency. Is it, in fact, aliens coming down through a hole in the sky?”

The depth with which he could hear her inhale told Tony that he was potentially in for an ass-kicking when he made it back to New York. 

“No, not aliens, not a hole in sky, but your fucking firstborn making it’s way through a hole —”

Tony interrupted her again. “Okay, breathe, deep breaths, like they taught you in the class. I’m on my way.” He disconnected the line amidst more screaming from his wife and told Happy to pull over. “I’ve got to get back to New York faster than we can get there in the limo.”

Happy frowned. “The airport is several miles away …”

“Not going in a limo,” Tony mumbled, accessing a setting on his watch as he got out onto the sidewalk. “Baby’s coming, so there’s no time.”

By the time Happy had put the vehicle in park and got out of the driver’s seat, Tony was fully suited up and blasting off toward the opposite coast. 

Sweat had plastered your hair to your face and forehead. The contractions had started so suddenly and progressed so quickly, there was no time for an epidural. Thank God Rhodey was in the city and FRIDAY had been able to contact him quickly — especially since Tony wasn’t answering any of his communication devices. 

“You got this, Y/N, you can do it, c’mon,” Rhodey encouraged, letting you squeeze the hell out of your hand and making sure his back was turned toward the business end of the bed. You didn’t care, but he was sheepish about these things, you guessed. 

You groaned as the urge to push hit you. “I am not a recruit, Rhodes, I am in labor. I appreciate the encouragement but maybe — yeow!”

The doctor finished checking you and started to gown up. “Mrs. Stark, we can’t wait any longer, I’m afraid. Time to push.”

Your whole demeanor changed at that point, from angry and frustrated, to downright afraid. Tears filled your eyes as you begged the doctor to wait just a few more minutes. 

"Tony will be here soon, I know he will! He was in California and it takes time to get here, even with the suit, but he wouldn’t miss this, I know he wouldn’t!”

As if to emphasize your point, a loud thud sounded from the hospital roof. You raised your brow and Rhodey grinned. 

“I would say he’s proving your point,” the man chuckled. 

But the pushing couldn’t wait; neither the doctor, your body, or the baby would have it with any more stalling. Knowing that Tony was there and on his way gave you a bit of hope that he wouldn’t miss your child coming into the world. 

“Hope I didn’t miss the main event,” Tony quipped, breezing into the room. He was huffing and puffing a little, but what did it matter — he was there. 

You let go of Rhodey’s arm (that man quickly excused himself from the room) to grab for Tony’s hand. He kissed you and then your sweaty forehead, apologizing for not being there sooner. 

“Forgiveness will have to come later, Mr. Stark,” the doctor spoke up, “I see a head coming down.”

“That explains the pain,” you groaned. 

Tony climbed on the bed behind you to give you something more sturdy to brace against. He held both of your hands in his set his cheek against your head. 

“We’ve got this, babe. You and me, almost three. Here we go.”

He kissed your cheek as you bore down and worked on pushing that baby out. Your labor had progressed quickly and delivery wasn’t so different: three pushes and a crying, screaming little girl made her way into the world. 

The doctors and nurses made quick work of cleaning her off after Tony cut the umbilical cord. He climbed off the bed so that you could be taken care, going between checking on you and stealing peeks at your daughter. 

When you were finally cleaned up and stitched up, a nurse came over with a swaddled bundle of pink and approached Tony. 

“Mom warned us you don’t like to be handed things, Dad, but …” 

“There’s an exception to every rule.” Tony held his hands out to take the baby into his arms. He held her so carefully, you gave a tired chuckle. 

“She won’t break, love.”

He carefully sat himself next to you and positioned the baby so she was half with you, half with him, requiring one arm from each of you to hold her stable. Tony put his free arm around you and shook his head. 

“Just can’t believe I managed something so amazing,” he breathed. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder and looked at your daughter. “And that’s coming from Iron Man.”

Tony laughed. “Iron Man pales in comparison to her.”

“I don’t want to bring you down, but I tend to agree,” you teased. “Hey, where’s Happy?”

“Probably on a plane from California to New York,” Tony answered, unfazed by anything save for his daughter. “You think she’ll be an engineer?”

You pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged. “We’ve got time for her figure it out.”

“Hey,” Tony beckoned; you looked up at him. “Thank you, for the most amazing gift anyone’s given me.”

You smiled. “It’s a gift for both of us. I love you, Tony.”

“Love you more, Y/N.” He pushed the blanket away from the baby’s face and gently ran his finger over her soft cheek. “And I love you, tiny thing, more than you’ll ever know.”

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​ @averyrogers83​ @jennmurawski13​ @connie326​ @auriandthepussicats​

[hakurasakura]

hi new follower here and i absolutely love your blog! <3

i was wondering if you’re still talking about charts?? if so i’d be so grateful if you could do mine! thank you if so :)

hello and welcome! and im glad you love my blog!

im sorry that this took a while (and that it is super long). everything is under the read more (disclaimer: i only did the planets and their positions. im still learning about the asteroids and the degrees)

taurus sun (12 H): when taurus natives work, they work hard. they do it with a steadiness that may rarely be considered quick–rather it’s a dependable and steady effort that has its payoffs. security is immensely important to taurus. although hard-working, their comfort-loving nature sometimes makes them appear lazy. this is only because they separate work and leisure so well. when they work, they work hard, and when they play, they don’t really “play” as such…they relax. solar taureans like to own things (and sometimes people). a nice home, a piece of land (this can be modest), a paid-off car, a couple pets, maybe a solid business…in love and relationship, there is an earthy kind of possessiveness that may be considered jealousy by some, but there is actually quite a difference between being possessive and being jealous. taurus sun natives are rarely jealous and petty. they do, however, think of the people they love as theirs–it adds to their sense of security.

the sun in the twelfth house indicates a desire for perfection. these people usually do not get full recognition for their abilities and efforts, but they do not mind. they are satisfied with their simple, quiet life in solitude. if they become managers, they will do their job inconspicuously and with modesty. their services to other people are an area in which they are likely to achieve recognition and satisfaction. these people are usually interested in psychology and research of psychological phenomena. even though they may feel the need to interact with others, they often feel alienated even in the middle of a social event. it gives them the opportunity to observe, make sense of things and understand.

capricorn moon (9 H): people with this placement see safety in being useful to society and you look for justification in the outside world. they may underestimate what they want from themselves and for themselves. shyness may be accompanied by resentment of the fact that others ignore you. they shouldn't seek approval from the outside, it will not get rid of their doubt and it is harmful to them. they have to trust their inner values, otherwise, it may happen that they succumb to external pressures. the need to cope with adverse reality since childhood may give them the ability to "survive" difficult periods. their talent for business can bring them success but they may be missing some carefreeness.

the moon in the ninth house creates an understanding and imaginative mind. these people are great dreamers and thinkers who have novel ideas. their views are solid and sincere, but they change their minds easily. they have a variety of interests and hobbies; they like to lecture other people. the Moon gives these people inner self-determination, which gives them the energy to lead and direct those who lack the same degree of awareness.

gemini ascendent: very curious, very observant, and analytical. always looking to expand their social circles.  love asking questions and mingling with others. can appear as restless as gemini rising people have an air of impatience even though they do not mean it. gemini rising people often seek a certain amount of personal freedom and space. and they enjoy intellectual debates and exchanging ideas. from my personal observations, gemini rising people can either be 1. bubbly, changeable, talkative and a little quirky, or 2. quite witty and clever, cool and intellectual (presenting themselves in a less cheerful and changeable way).

taurus mercury (12 H): they may take their time to arrive at a decision, but they get there — they are actually quite decisive, even stubborn with their opinions. mercury in taurus may be slow to start a new project, but they see it through to the end. they may need to poke them to get them going, however. they have much common sense at their disposal. these people rely on their senses when it comes to processing information. smells, noises, and mood are all employed. their communication style may, at times, be slow and measured. they are quite deliberate in what they do. when it comes to learning, mercury in taurus natives prefer demonstrations, concrete answers, and basic concepts. these people learn best when they see real-world uses for the theories they’re trying to absorb. not that they wouldn’t be able to comprehend the abstract–they simply process information better when they can personalize it (what use is it to me?) and attach it to the practical world.

mercury in the twelfth house represents the subconscious mind. thinking of these people is influenced by their subconscious and past experiences. Their decisions are based on emotions instead of logical thinking. these people have a tendency to be secretive and they do not like to express their opinions, especially in the public. they lack self-confidence but they are good at hiding it. this position also suggests difficulties in learning new things and it is an obstacle to developing the potential of the person.

taurus venus (12 H): love for venus in taurus centers on the physical world and creature comforts — they revel in sensual surroundings. these people project themselves as solid and comfortable. they need a certain measure of predictability and dependability in their relationships. venus in taurus can be possessive in love, and they are threatened by fast-paced, high-energy situations in the context of relationships and love. these are sensual partners who require lots of “hands-on” expressions of love. their lovers may complain that venus in taurus can get a little too comfortable and settled. it’s true that they resist change in their relationships, but even when they seem stuck in a groove, however, they are constant partners.

venus in the twelfth house suggests secrecy and solitude. it points to the introspective aspect of character and the need to spend time alone. it creates socially withdrawn people who are a bit lonely and disappointed in their romantic relationships. they are very emotional but they can subconsciously control their emotions. this position usually creates a significant degree of compassion for oppressed people and all those who are in a bad position.

virgo mars (5 H): these people are productive, goal-oriented, practical people. although they can be a little scattered at times, simply because they are doing so many things at any give time, mars in virgo natives get things done, and quite well! they have a knack for handling a wide variety of tasks at once, and a tendency to take on perhaps too much at the same time. these natives are not particularly aggressive by nature. although they can be a little hard-nosed and critical at times, they rarely resort to pushing others around. these people are protective of their “system” of how to get things done. there is a perfectionist at the heart of all people with this position.

mars in fifth house natives are fun, romantic, active and creative. Also, courageous and always eager to take risks, they're often sure of themselves and look only to have as much fun as possible. Mars in this position suggests they love to love and pursue romantic relationships everywhere they go.

aquarius jupiter (10 H): jupiter in aquarius is most lucky when they’re allowed to break the rules. they need complete freedom to try out their creative ideas, for they often payout in the end. this placement isn’t afraid to take risks as they offer great rewards. they bring in good fortune through their inventive thought process. they are out to change the world for the better, and they reap the benefits of their humanitarian efforts.

jupiter in tenth house keeps luck on people’s side in most situations in life. it makes natives with this placement very lucky when it comes to their career. however, they can also count too much on their good fortune and end up reckless or too relaxed when the situation would require them to focus. these natives are usually very open to making new friends, self-confident, charming, and very convincing. people will love and honor them for all these traits. they give a lot of importance to social status and want to be as free as possible.

aries saturn (11 H): saturn in aries realizes there are times when even they are not ready to handle a situation with unknown consequences. it’s a struggle that causes conflict with other people, and they have a hard time controlling their temper. saturn in aries tends to look more closely at them and decide whether or not it is in their best interest to steamroll ahead. this person is not as much of a trailblazer as other planets in this sign, but that doesn’t mean they hold back all the time. the people tend to be more rational and thoughtful. this can be used to their advantage when they’re actively trying to get ahead in life. they can rely on their powers of persuasion to get their point across in a concise and effective manner to get what they want.

people born with saturn in the eleventh house in their birth chart have lots of acquaintances but no too many close friends and these are likely to be older than them. their oldest friendships will last a lifetime. they're drawn to people who are serious and have a purpose in life.

aquarius uranus (9 H): uranus in aquarius is in its own sign and it creates inventors and people who like to apply new, untested methods and procedures. they like to fight for moral values and they love freedom. they do not let their emotions and feelings to restrict them. they are open-minded and open to radical reforms. aquarius is known for its humanity, and uranus further strengthens these tendencies.

with uranus in the ninth house, these people believe in freedom of beliefs, religion, and liberty in your way of life. more than any other placement of uranus, this makes someone interested in the truth of the system. in fact, uranus revolutionizes and changes their worldview quite dramatically.

capricorn neptune (9 H): neptune in capricorn gets their drive and ambition. this helps them to come up with new ideas. for them, inspiration comes from logic, reason, and the practical uses of different theories to better society. as a conservative personality, neptune in capricorn doesn’t often get “struck” by creative thought. they develop their ideas more slowly and thoroughly, as they do everything else in their life. they would rather work on things at their own pace and in their way. they don’t like to work together with others when brainstorming. more times than not, they would rather sit by themselves in quiet reflection. they are often obsessed with status, so neptune in capricorn tends to focus on ways to increase their wealth and influence. they like power and are always thinking of new ways to acquire more.

a natal neptune in ninth house suggests a very strong faith in life. with neptune here, there is a strong connection with the divine. these people are strongly aligned with their higher self. many neptune in ninth house people are very religious.

sagittarius pluto (7 H): plutonian sagittarians are understanding and philosophical. personal transformation can occur especially through philosophical searching. pluto in this position strengthens their innate (not learned) religious consciousness and feeling. one can expect them to create a new spiritual or mystical direction, and attempts to merge existing religions and churches.

pluto in seventh house natives are connected to the concept of a good family, a close and loving atmosphere at home. relationships are especially emphasized here. after all, they want to fulfill their sense of belonging as well. if it’s affection and intense emotions that drive them, everything is good and the prospects for a long-standing relationship are blooming. this placement of pluto makes people crave deep emotions and display a sense of responsibility that is rarely seen, plus lead their lives by their own very specific values.

[giant-cerebrums]

Introduction, Reading I Authority, ownership, originality by Veera Kemppainen, 24 Sept 2021

Andrew Bennett handles in his text from “The Author” authorship and who is owning text. Even though text was about literature, there there were things which are applies also to our field in visual designing. The history of authorship is clearly connected also to history of designing.

In text there was said that authorship were more valued or “more author centered” after industrialization. Industrialization also created this whole new field of ours: graphic designing.

Circle back to oral tradition?

Bennett’s chapter was talking about time before industrialization. Before printing opportunity stories and poems were only spreading by word of mouth. Because of that, there were not this thing called authorship. In a way I was connecting that to modern days social medias influence of authorship. Originator is not relevant in Facebook or Instagram, same way it was not in time before printing press. Everyone can copy and paste one anothers ideas and make it own. Also in text it was said that book were back then for more “elite” people. Also that is changed, at least in my opinion. People are using more and more internet and less and less reading literature. I started to think when was last time when I read full book, instead of watching Netflix or reading online news papers or scrolling social media.

Even though chapter was not dealing with modern day or social media yet, I still thought about modern day during my reading. I think that nowdays because of internet and constantly sharing culture is made authorship again less important. The constanly growing visual and information is made everyone basically authors now. In social media there is not “rules” for ownership. Or of course there is rules but no one is following them. Everything is shared and modified in peoples own accounts. Bennett wrote about “Aura of individuality” and I really loved that sentence.

Maybe this authorship thing is actually made full circle back to this “oral epic tradition” which were handled in Bennett’s text.

Commercial work as a designer

Also Bennet was writing about how commercial work is often thought lacking of aesthetic. I think this is also interesting thought from visual designers perspective. Often we designers work at at least someway in commercial world. I don’t think that commercial purposes necessarily makes design less aesthetical. In my mind however I have found out that its sometimes pleasant not to have authorship in commercial work.

Bennet’s text was also dealing with the idea of a romantic author. I wanted to ponder upon the myth that is well-known in all artistic circles, about art being born from great suffering. However, it is seldom discussed that for many mental health problems are the cause of block at the very beginning of creative process. I have noticed that in my own work that sometimes that kind of idea of being independent designer and representing yourself through your work is super distressing.

That’s why in commercial work I give creatorship gladly to someone else. That doesn’t make me more lazy or care less about design,rather it gives me opportunity to actually focus on what im designing, not constantly thinking how everyone else sees me as a designer.

I often say to myself “It’s made by me but its not me. “ That really eases the creative process for me and serves more the cause.

Company owns copyrights but what about romantic creatorship?

Also in my own life i have thought about creatorship for example working in creative agency. Almost every time projects are created with big team or at least copywriter and graphic designer. In bigger projects someone still ends up in position of creator. Usually they are art directors or creative directors who will get the prices …or in other hand handles criticism. I have noticed that expecially in creative agencies there is still this strong competitive culture and individualistic idea of “masterminds”.

Clearly the company where designers are working is owning the copyrights. When you are signed your contract you don’t have no more ownership to designs you make for company.

So like in the Bennett’s text there were said that “copyright were invented to protect the investments and not so much to protect artistic authorship.”

So in a way there is this company who practically owns the design, but creatorship is still someones even its not official.

[illfoandillfie]

Snapshots From Before

A/N:Request: Could you do a smutty prequel to Interloper back to when she was a groupie?💚

READ INTERLOPER

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader, Brian May x Reader, John Deacon x Reader, Freddie Mercury x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Smut (18+), edging/orgasm denial, dom/sub dynamics, oral sex (f and m receiving), anal, a bit of spanking, choking

Words: 4102

A/N: Requested as part of my 1000 follower celebration, got a little longer than planned lmao

Taglist:  @laedymoon​​  @dtfrogertaylor​​   @ezmina98​​  @vee-ndetta​​ @atomic-watermelon​​ @kellypenac​​ @labessieisallama​​ @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr​​ @drowseoftaylor​​  @hannafuckingsucks​

Following Queen on tour was always fun. The first time you’d done it, quit your job and jumped in your shitty car and hit the road, had been exciting if a little frustrating. There was more than one night you slept in your car, having been unable to catch the attention of any of the boys. But by the end of the tour they knew you well enough. Things had changed a bit since then. Your car wasn’t quite so shitty for one. For another, the boys definitely knew you now. You wouldn’t necessarily say you were friends, though you were friendly. They certainly expected to see you now, invited you to join them for dinner occasionally, had no problems with stopping for a chat when they passed you backstage. But for the most part your relationships definitely revolved around the physical.  

*** 

On a rare off day, no show that night, Roger found you in the bar.   “Scotch on the rocks, and whatever the lady’s having,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table as he sat down beside you, his arm draped over your shoulder.  “Been a while since anyone’s called me a lady,”  “Been a while since you acted like one,”  “Thanks Rog,” you took a sip of the drink he’d bought you, “So what’re you doing here?”  “Looking for you actually. ‘m bored,” the final word came out as a whine that on other men would seem childish but somehow not on Roger. Perhaps because you knew he was a big kid at heart.   “Shouldn’t you be relaxing? Catching up on sleep? Getting ready for tomorrow night’s show?”  “Nah that’s all boring, much rather have a drink with you,”  “I know that tone Mr Taylor, a drink’s never just a drink with you,���  “Can’t blame me for wanting a shag from my favourite groupie,”  “I’m your favourite now am I? Thought that was Monica with the big tits,”  “Oh she’s fine and all but not as good as you,”  You hummed and took another drink, “keep talking like that and I might just have to blow you,”  “Wonderful offer but I had something else in mind. My room, five minutes,” He downed the last of his drink, tapping the table once more before he left.  

You waited three and a half minutes, taking your time to finish your drink, before you stood and made your way to the elevator. The door opened after two knocks, Roger slipping the do not disturb sign onto the handle as he pulled you inside.   “Right on time,” he said as he pulled you through his suite towards the couch.  “Well you don’t earn such high praise as yours without some punctuality,”   “Punctuality. Good word. We should play scrabble some time,”  “Strip scrabble?” you asked as Roger began pulling your clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the floor.  “Is there such a thing? Pretty sure if there was I would have played it,”  “Well let’s invent it then,” you shrugged, letting out a small squeal of surprise as he pushed you, naked, onto the couch and dropped to his knees in front of you.  “Next time. Got a different game for you today.”  “And what are the rules?”  “There’s only one rule. No cumming,” he pushed your legs wide, “such a lovely cunt. Actually, spose I should specify. You’re not allowed to. I can do what I want.”  His finger tips traced light patterns over the inside of your thigh, making you shiver with anticipation, “Do I win something at the end?”  “You win my praise and you win my cum and you don’t end being punished. If you’re very good I might give you a ruin.”  You squirmed at his words, earning a laugh from Roger.  “Christ you’re already wet and I’ve not even started yet. This is going to be fun.” 

You had half a second to try to compose yourself before he was leaning forward and dragging his tongue along your slit. He wasted no time in slowly working you up or teasing you, instead heading straight for your clit, his tongue pulsing against you, making you whine almost instantly.  “Bloody show-off,” you muttered, feeling Roger’s breath against your pussy as he chuckled and continued sucking on your clit. When you whined that you were close Roger pulled back a little, fingertips already dancing over the inside of your thighs again, until your orgasm had subsided enough for him to continue. By the time his mouth left you a third time you were falling apart. He leaned back, eyes roving over you, taking in your quivering legs, your hands clutching at the couch cushions, stiff nipples, closed eyes, teeth-bruised lips. And then he started in on you again, leaning close, his tongue flicking over you, sucking on every sensitive spot you had, but with the added stimulation from his fingers. They pumped into you slowly, almost delicate in the way he touched you, except for how they curled against your walls suddenly, making you shudder and cry out and once again warn him you were close.   “This is why you’re my favourite, so responsive. And obedient. Monica with the big tits would never tell me she was close so I could edge her, she doesn’t have the patience. But you’re a good little slut who likes earning praise.”  Again, and again he stopped and started and stopped again, laughing when you caved and begged him to finish you off.   “Sound so pretty begging,” he stood up.  “Wait, where are you going?” you’d thought the threat of denial was part of the game, incentive to get you to play along. You’d not for a moment considered it was real, that Roger might actually leave you dripping wet and desperate.  “Nowhere, but I love how worried you got," he shrugged off his shirt and undid his pants, freeing his cock, precum dripping from the tip, “Kneel for me.”  You shifted to your knees, leaning against the arm of the couch as Roger position himself behind you, holding your hips with one hand and using the other to slide his cock along your folds. You tried to shift backwards, find more friction but he made a warning sound that had you dropping your head and trying to hold still. A jolt went through you as he tapped his cock against your clit and then again, making you whine loudly.  “I’d tease you more but your pathetic little noises have got me painfully hard,” he squeezed your hip as he entered you in one fluid motion, “and before you ask, you still don’t have permission.”   You choked out a moan, so focused on trying to breath that you were taken by surprise when he started fucking you. He was deep, shifting his hand to your back so you’d arch your arse up higher as he ploughed into you.   “Rog - shit - ‘m close,”  “Already?” he slowed his thrusts but didn’t pull out as you tried to calm down, withdraw from the edge again. As soon as you nodded he sped up again, returning to his original pace. And then slowed when you clenched down and whimpered another warning of your impending release. But the next time he ignored you.  “Im gonna-”  “Hold it,”  “Please,”  “Hold. It,” each word was punctuated with a grunt as Roger chased his own release.  You closed your eyes and tried to concentrate on counting your breaths, anything to distract you from how he sounded as he got closer, how he felt hitting so hard and deep, how tempting it was to just give in and take a punishment. Tears caught on your lashes as Roger came, collapsing over you and panting in your ear as he recovered enough to pull out.  “Good girl,” he said softly, brushing your damp hair away from your face, “you can go now.” 

“Wait, what?”  “You were right, I should be using today to relax. Rest.”  “Rog, c’mon, you’re not really going to leave me like this,”  “I could. If I wanted to keep you like this all day I could. Not like there’s a show to get ready for or anything,”  “Well I could go find one of the others to help me out,”  “Yeah, you could. But you wouldn’t. Because you know I’d come looking for you again later and I’d expect to find the same messy slut I left. Besides, Bri and Deaky have gone out for the day.”  You whined again which only made Roger laugh.  “Maybe I’ll make you a deal,”  “Yes, anything,”  “Don’t agree just yet, you haven’t heard it,”  “Tell me what it is then,”  “Here’s the thing. I’m tired. Don’t feel like exerting myself anymore, so I’m going to hop into bed. If you’re really so desperate for dick you can ride me. Take my load well enough, with no fucking complaining about being close, and I’ll let you cum on my fingers. I’ll even let you lick them clean after.” 

*** 

Brian’s half unbuttoned shirt was sticking to him, still sweaty from the show he’d just played. He buried his face in his towel, dragging it down over his neck and chest and you were hit by the sudden urge to take the towel from his hands and continue its path with your tongue.  “You were on fire tonight Bri,”  “Yeah, really great crowd. Really great show, all round.”  “Yes, but I was specifically talking about you. Couldn’t’ve dragged my eyes away from you tonight if I’d wanted to,”  “Is that so?” He sounded intrigued, exactly where you wanted him.  “Mmhmm, though I’m afraid I didn’t pay much attention to what you were playing. Kept getting distracted by your fingers. Watching you handle Red just made me think of how good it feels when you handle my pussy.”  “Naughty,”  “Oh you don’t even know the half of it. Because see, I've been thinking about you since you did the run through earlier today,” you stepped closer, running your fingers down his arm as you spoke, “Watched you for a bit while you were rehearsing and got thinking about your fingers and then about your cock. About how well you fill me. Your cock in my arse while you finger my pussy. How pretty you sound moaning for me. How badly I want to hear you beg to have me. It’s a bit silly how worked up I got, had to go and change my panties before the actual show started. But that did give me the chance to get my plug.”  His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped. His fingers were tense on the towel and you could have sworn his bulge was more noticeable than it had been before. It certainly felt hard against you as you pressed your body into his and trailed your fingers back up his arm, continuing the path up to his jaw.  “And that’s not even mentioning all the filthy things I thought about during the actual show. You looked so fucking hot out on that stage, I could’ve crawled out and blown you in front of that entire crowd.”  “Jesus Christ,”  “Don’t you want me Bri? I can be a desperate whore if you want – call you Sir and beg you to fuck me. Or I can choke you and tell you how pretty you look when you cum for me, I know how much you like that. Whatever you want from me you can have.”  “You’re wicked. Couldn’t have waited until we were out of the fucking stadium to do this? There’s nowhere here I can fuck you without risking being walked in on.”  “There’s the bus,”  “As in the tour bus me and the boys essentially live on?”  “Why not?”  “Persuasive argument. S’pose what they don’t know won’t hurt them. We’ll have to try not to make too much of a mess though.”  “Promise I’ll take everything you give me, won’t spill a drop.”  “Oh I wasn’t worried about that, it’s your mess I meant. I know how wet you get when I’m in both your holes.”  “Could wait until we got back to the hotel I guess,”  Brian scoffed, “Fuck that. I don’t care about the boys that much.” 

There was no way the rest of the band and crew didn’t know what you were doing. After all Brian had disappeared between leaving the stage and returning to their dressing room and the last person he’d been seen talking to was you. So everyone was bound to work it out sooner or later. You hoped that meant you’d have ample time but Brian wasn’t taking any chances, pulling your shorts and panties off as soon as the door of the bus was shut behind you. It was hot in the bus, the air a little stale, but Brian was already drenched in sweat and you were just drenched, so neither of you really noticed.  “Bend over the table for me,” he said as he moved towards the bags stored at the back of the bus. You pulled your shirt off and got into position, palms resting on the table that was usually used to balance petrol station coffee cups and games of scrabble. Brain returned, popping open a tube of lube.  “You ready? I’m gonna take your plug out okay?”  “Mmhmm, I’m ready,”  You braced yourself, resting your forearms on the table and tried to stay relaxed as Brian slowly eased the plug from you. It was replaced moments later by his fingers, the cool lube that covered them making you shiver.  “Feels so good Brian. Got no idea how badly I’ve wanted this all day,”  “Think I’ve got some idea,” he said, pushing his hips towards you.  “Poor boy,” you looked back at him over your shoulder, “Ask nicely,”   “Please can I fuck you, Y/N?”  “Fuck me how Brian?”  “You’re going to be the fucking death of me. Please can I fuck your arse?”  “God yes,” 

He chuckled as he pulled his fingers from you. The was a pause as he grabbed more lube and then he was replacing his fingers with his cock, causing you to whine into the table.  “Taking me so well,” he said softly as he carefully worked himself deeper, “you okay?”  “Mmm so good, Bri. Fuck you feel so good.”  “Yeah? Feel, fuck, feel pretty good yourself. So fucking tight. Gon-gonna start moving okay?”  “Yes, fuck me please,”  “Needy fucking slut,” he slapped your arse and began thrusting into you. You clutched at the edges of the table, chest pressed against the cool surface as he got rougher, leaning over you and slipping a hand around your throat, forcing you to raise your head.  “Better get used to taking me like this. Your arse is so good I’m never going to want your cunt again.”  It was all you could do to remember to breath. Between the pressure on your throat and the way he was railing you into the table there was barely any room left in your head for simple functions like breathing. He let go of your throat, leaving you gasping as he dropped his hand to your pussy, sliding his long, dextrous fingers into you. Whenever he thought you were getting too comfortable, he’d lay another spank on your cheek, the sting only turning you on more.  “F-fuck,”  “So wet. Knew you’d make a mess.” he let his thumb fall to your clit, drawing a moan from you, “Should have invited one of the others, could’ve had them fuck your cunt for me. Oh! The slut likes that suggestion,”  You moaned again, clenching around his fingers at the idea of two of the boys sharing you.  “You gonna cum thinking about two cocks filling you? What about three, one each of your holes. C’mon, show me what a greedy whore you are and cum.”   He let go of your hip to choke you again, hand vaguely sticky from the lube he’d spread over his cock and the added pressure was enough to send you falling over the edge with a loud cry. You shook as he kept pounding into you, his grip on your throat the only thing keeping you from fully collapsing against the table. The fingers between your legs rubbed against your g-spot, pushing you into another orgasm as reached his own climax.   “Shit,” he panted as he withdrew from you, leaving you a twitching mess over the table, “guess we should go clean up for the afterparty.” He placed a light spank on your backside and then left the bus.  

*** 

“Woah, hey,” you blurted as you felt a hand wrap around your arm and begin pulling you towards a closed door.  “Shhh, keep your voice down,”  “John, what are you doing?”  “Hold your horses,”  John opened the door and pushed you inside, following with a final glance around the empty corridor, and pulling the door shut behind you. He fumbled in the dark for a moment, both of you blinking when he found the light switch he’d been searching for, illumination the small room you’d ben so unceremoniously shoved into.   “Jesus John, what was that about? Don’t you have to be on stage in, like, ten minutes?”  “fifteen,”  “So what are we doing in here?”  “You’re,” he pushed down on your shoulder, “going to suck me off.”  “Am I now?” you stood your ground.  “You caused this hardon you can fix it,” he pushed down on your shoulder again and this time you let him, lowering yourself to the ground, “Walking round in those skimpy little shorts and that tight shirt with no bra.”  “What about it?”  “Don’t play dumb. You wanted one of us to see you so you’d have an excuse to slut it up before the show. Congratulations, it worked.”  “That actually wasn’t my plan, I was just hot, but I’m kinda glad it’s worked out this way,” you ran your hand up the inside of his thigh, tracing the outline of his dick, “weren’t kidding when you said you were hard,”  “Get sucking, don’t have much time,”  “Geeze, alright I’m going,” you quickly undid his fly, wiggling his pants down and wrapped your hand around his cock, lowering your mouth to the tip. He let you bob up and down his shaft for a couple of minutes before his hand landed on the back of your head, holding you in place as his hips jolted forward. You gagged when his cock hit the back of your throat.  “Hey!” some of the effect was lost as you choked the word out, “what the fuck!”  “Told you, short on time. Now hold still while I fuck your mouth.”  He didn’t give you another chance to protest, ramming his cock back into your throat, using both hands to keep you in place. You could feel saliva dripping down your chin and onto your chest, wet gags being pushed from you with every rough thrust he gave. All you could do was hold onto him, fingers digging into his thighs, and try to stay relaxed.  

“God,” he grunted, “bet you’re fucking enjoying this, aren’t you slut,”  You hummed around him, earning a moan in return.  In the corridor outside you heard someone call for John. The man in question held his finger to his lips as he pulled away from you.  “Where the fuck is he? We’re on in two bloody minutes,”  “Calm down Rog, he’s probably just in the bathroom,”  “He better be.”  The footsteps subsided and John shoved his cock back into your mouth, “Gotta finish me off, sweetie.”  You did your best to speed up his release, using your tongue as he kept ramming himself into your throat, muttering about how close he was, until finally his hips jolted and his fingers tightened on your head and the familiar salty taste hit you. John’s head dropped forward as he slipped from your lips, hands dropping from your head.   “Thanks Y/N, you’re a life saver,” John readjusted his pants, zipping them back up.  “Well couldn’t have you going on stage in that state could we,” you said as you stood.  He laughed, “Definitely not. Find me after and we’ll see what we can do with a bit more time,”  “Sure, if Rog hasn’t killed you,”  “Shit, yeah, I should run,” 

*** 

The studio was quiet, almost all of the lights turned off. You’d flicked a single one on as you snuck in, heart racing. Technically no one had said you couldn’t go in there but you still felt like you were breaking some kind of rule. The draw was too strong to resist though. If there was one thing you loved it was music, it’s part of what had drawn you to hanging around bands in the first place, which led to sleeping with them. A natural progression of sorts. It was your dirty little secret though. Stolen moments while the band were sleeping off the previous night or having a day off. You’d flirt with some poor dumb bloke who worked at the studio, the kid who got people coffee or who answered the phone. Not enough that anyone could suggest you were going to sleep with him, just enough to make him believe you would. He’d unlock the door for you, maybe make you pay with a kiss or a quick flash of your tits if he was particularly bold. And then you’d find a guitar and start plucking at the strings, seeing what you could come up with.  

You’d been tempted to use Brian’s Red Special every time you’d see it, sitting out, begging to be picked up. So far you’d managed to resist though you were certain one quick strum of it would inspire instant classics, the stuff of legends and record contracts. But Brian would be pissed if he found out and besides you weren’t worthy of that incredible instrument. So you stuck to an old beaten up acoustic that seemed to have lived at the studio for decades if not centuries. It was worn and you’d had to replace all of the strings but it had a decent sound, workable at least. It was familiar to you now, your fingers easily finding their place as you began picking out the chords you’d been working on. You backtracked, made adjustments, sang the lyrics you’d written over the notes you played, tried to get it just right.   “That’s pretty, did you write it?”  You gasped at the familiar voice behind you.  “It’s only me darling, nothing to be frightened of,”  “Jesus Freddie. Thought I was alone.”  “Was on my way home and saw the light on, thought I should check it out just in case. I didn’t know you played,” he gestured at the guitar you held, as if there was any doubt what he was talking about.  “Well you wouldn’t since I don’t tell anyone.”  “Why not?”  You shrugged, “Just never have,”  “You should. You’ve got a lovely voice,”  “Thank you,”  “But you never answered me, did you write it?”  “Yeah,” you looked at your feet, “it’s still a work in progress though.”  “Well it sounds lovely so far.”  “It’s okay, not working out as easily as some other stuff I’ve come up with,”  “There’s more?”  “Nothing special, just a few things I’ve been playing around with. Bit of fun is all.”  “Bit of fun my arse. What you and those beasts I call bandmates get up to is fun, you want to write properly, don’t you?”  “Kind of, yeah. Been wanting to make music since I was a kid but never really got the chance.”  “If a chance is all you need I can help,”  “Help how?”  “Darling I have access to quite a number of high-powered men in the music industry. I’ll help you record a demo, make sure it gets into the right hands. And if none of them snap you up I’ll bloody do it myself. I’ll be your musical fairy godmother, wave my wand and make your dreams come true,” he winke at you.  “Freddie, I-”  “Don’t say something stupid like you can’t accept or that it’s too much. I absolutely insist you let me help you get a foot in the door.”  “I don’t know what to say,”  “Say, let’s do it Freddie,”  “Let’s do it Freddie,” you laughed.  “Excellent! You’re going to go home and write out your five best songs for me and we’ll start working on recording them tomorrow, okay?”  “Okay!” you couldn’t help but grin, “How can I thank you for this?”  “Dedicate your first album to me, that’ll do.” 

[drblood-bringer-of-death]

Yay! Another Tyrian x Watts fanfiction for Nuts and Volts week! Seriously I cant get enough of these guys! Anyway, hope everyone over at @nutsandvoltsweek enjoys it!

Waltzing into love

Warnings: literally just some mild cursing.

They hated it. Every single second of being stuck in the stuffy, crowded room full of pompous, rich assholes. Arthur glared at anyone unfortunate enough to make eye contact with him and he stayed as far away from the dance floor as possible. He hated parties as much as he hated people. He would much rather be back in the grimm lands, tinkering away at his inventions without a single interruption. But he was not the only one who hated being there. As grand and beautiful as Atlesian parties were, they had a very strict policy to them. No Faunus, No improper dress, and absolutely No exceptions. Tyrian, as sporadic and chaotic as the man was, unfortunately was the best fit to go with Arthur to this party. Salem decided that Hazel would be too intimidating, Emerald and Mercury were too young,  and Cinder would have stuck out like a sore thumb. So Tyrian was voluntold to attend as Arthur's date. He sulked even more than Arthur did. He might have even hated it more than the mustached man. Due to the strict policy, Tyrian had to wear what he considered "constrictive" clothing. And worst of all he couldn't even use his tail! Arthur had insisted he hide it, since it was against the rules. Tyrian fought him on it, to no avail as he knew Arthur was right. So the two brooded in their fancy clothing in a corner of the ballroom. They avoided everyone and if it wasn't for Arthur's accursed reputation he would have never even attended this godforsaken party. Maybe he could figure out some way to fake his death or even actually die just to avoid these parties.

"This is pointless!" Tyrian growled.

"It's not entirely pointless, but it's Incredibly dull." Arthur retorted, focusing all his attention on his scroll.

"Why did I have to come here?! I hate this! I feel like I'm restricting all my natural instincts!" Tyrian continued to complain as he pulled on the dark purple tie around his neck.

"Stop pulling at that you'll undo it! And you know why she chose you to come with me. And stop tugging on the tie!" Arthur said angrily as he turned towards Tyrian, who had managed to actually undo his tie. "How did you even? Ugh just let me fix it!" Arthur swatted away Tyrians hands and grabbed ahold of the tie. Fastening it once again.

"Ahem, am I interrupting anything?" The unwanted and annoying voice of Jaques Schnee broke through Arthurs grumbling. His brow twitched in annoyance and he sighed before facing the unbearable aristocrat.

"Why Jaques, what a pleasure to see you again." Arthur lied through his teeth.

"A pleasure as well. Who, may I ask, are you?" He directed the question towards Tyrian who stiffened as a response.

"Uh, Tyrian Callows, associate of Watts here." He shook the older man's hand in forced politeness.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Callows. I had no idea Arthur was into such… interesting company." His tone of voice and the way he glanced at Arthur smugly,  clearly portrayed that he suspected something else. "why I'd even say you might be planning something… more forbidding." Tyrian pailed, could he really figure them out that easily? He looked at Arthur and they shared a panicked look.

"Jaques if you're suggesting-" Arthur started to accuse him but Jaques cut him off.

"Oh come now Arthur, you know i wouldn't care if you were gay, it's quite common nowadays, and I've been suspecting it for a while anyway-" Watts and Tyrians faces went bright red. "I was simply baffled that you managed to find someone to deal with your arrogance." He finished.

"I-my arrogance- excuse me?!" Arthur said offhandedly. Jaques only laughed at him.

"Relax, you know that the General himself is gay right? Really it doesn't matter here, why not show some affection! Have a dance or two! There's nothing to hide." And before Arthur, pr even Tyrian for that matter, could stutter out a response Jaques turned on his heels and walked away smirking.

"Does he think-? I mean really?" Tyrian asked before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. His entire body shook with each inhale of breath. As he laughed and laughed Arthur's face grew more and more red, out of both embarrassment and anger.

"You shut up!" He snapped at Tyrian. Whose laughter seemed never ending. Making Arthurs anger grow.

"Re- hehehe- relax Arthur. Haha, as far as we know, this could be an advantage." Tyrian offered through dying giggles.

"What do you mean?" Arthurs anger sizzled but he stopped feeling the innate need to punch the Faunus. Tyrian wiped a tear from his eye.

"Well think about it. You could gain some massive publicity points if you came out as gay, and if we did it here it would be massively successful. All we have to do is dance a little bit and maybe hold hands. People will come to the conclusion on their own and it'll be all over the news tomorrow. "Infamous inventor Arthur Watts supporting his community through love!" Can you imagine that?" Arthur paused.

Unhinged, deranged, murderous, insane… and intelligent. Those are the words Arthur would use to describe Tyrian right now. As unpredictable as the man is, he could read people and play off them better than even Salem herself.

"That… could work." Arthur poundered. The plan was foolproof, and even if it went wrong then it would cause protests in the communities drawing grimm in. "Yes. It would work quite well." Arthur hummed to himself and Tyrian smirked.

"Well then let's get to it and put on a show!" He cheered in a manic giggle as he pulled Arthur away from their protective corner and into the center of the dancefloor. Arthur huffed behind him, not expecting the pull. Although he should really expect everything from Tyrian.

"I told you to relax already Arthur! All we need to do is dance a bit and act all coupley." Tyrian smirked again and Arthur got some sort of primal feeling in his gut to run. As if something far more sinister than even they had planned was happening. But he ignored it, it was not the first, or last, time he would have that feeling while with the scorpion.

"It's Impossible to relax with you" he retorted harshly, shifting himself and Tyrian into a waltzing position. Slowly the music ran through the room and the many people around them began to move to the three step beat.

"Your words wound me Arthur," Tyrian mocked. "I'm the most relaxing person I know! Well besides Hazel." He held back a giggle.

"Your a caffeinated maniac trapped inside a padded room. I absolutely do not find you relaxing!" Arthur all but growled.

"A bit touchy aren't you? Was it something that Mr. Schnee said that caught your nerves?" He smirked wildly at Arthur who tried his best to keep his composure. As he tried to calm his breathing Tyrians insane smile reached his eyes. "Oh my, your heart rate picked up! I must be onto something!" Arthur started to panic.

"You did not- wait you can sense my heart rate? No, nevermind that!" He attempted to gather his thoughts as he and Tyrian glided across the ballroom floor, sliding in time with everyone around them. If you weren't right next to the pair it would be like they were just enjoying themselves and not having a frantic argument.

"Poor Arthur Watts, not admitting that old Mr. Schnee was right! What an exciting evening this has become!" Tyrians giggles seemed to pour out of his mouth.

"Would you just shut up! I've already said that to you tonight, you psychopath! Now stop talking and lets finish this stupid dance!" Arthur was pissed off now, he couldn't stand looking at Tyrians pretty eyes or his handsome face any longer. So he decided to do something about it. As the song approached it's climax he brought Tyrian into a sudden spin, catching the scorpion off guard. As he pulled Tyrian back into him, he made up his mind. Placing one foot behind Tyrians and throwing his center of balance off, he dipped the younger man. He heard people around them gasp, some of them seemed shocked, but through all the noise he heard two distinct things. One: Jaques Schnee saying " I called it!", and two, Tyrian Callows' sharp inhale of breath. He pulled them back up. Releasing Tyrians lips as he did, and then he turned and walked out of the room.

Tyrian stumbled, that was not expected at all. He knew Arthur was gay but he never dared to dream that Arthur liked him. He got over the shock, more delayed than he'd like, but nevertheless he rushed after Arthur and found the man pacing an empty hallway.

"Why did I do that? What was the logic of that? It was pointless, im pointless. For fucks sake we're both adults why couldn't I just talk to him!?" Arthur mutters to himself as he paced, not even noticing that Tyrian was right next to him. "Damnit, that was so stupid! Why is he so handsomely intimidating? What can't I just be normal-"

"Because you're Arthur Watts, inventor and doctor, smarter than anyone else i know and absolutely hopelessly in love with me" Tyrian interrupted, his voice caught Arthur off guard and he would never admit how much that genuinely scared him.

"Ty- Tyrian look, what I-" he was cut off as said man lunged at him suddenly, crowding his precious space.

"Just shut up and kiss me again" the scorpion demanded as he rolled his eyes and pulled Arthur into him. Their lips crashed together again, yet the feeling was different. Before Arthur could barely feel the kiss at all, but now he felt like sparks were flying down his spine and static was invading his mind. Arthur let himself fall mentally, his brilliant mind failing him when he needed it most, so he just let it happen. Let his body do the talking for once.

Tyrian on the other hand was practically shaking with joy, he had a crush on the doctor for a while now but he truly never believed Arthur would like him back, let alone make the first move! He could not be happier even if his own goddess showed up just then! He felt as if nothing could ruin this sweet moment of love. And he was right, not a soul came out of the party to find them and they were left alone in the hallway. As Tyrian let go of Arthur he smiled. Not a crazed, classic Tyrian smile, but a calm, genuine one. Arthur felt his heart skip more than one beat, and he was sure Tyrian felt it too. Soon enough Tyrians soft laughter bubbled out of his mouth.

"What's so funny?" Arthur asked, his usual scoff lightened just a touch.

"Well the fact that we literally waltzed into love." Arthur's eyes rolled.

"That was cheesy." He huffed as he set his head on Tyrians shoulder.

"No, parmesan is cheesy." Arthur sighed. The moment was ruined by the man who created it. And he could not help the small smile that was hidden by his mustache. Maybe tonight was worth the party.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Hey fam here's a deep dive of AoS 7x04 including justification of the time travel by a branching timelines believer and lots of Peggy Carter love & appreciation

I definitely feel better about this whole situation now that we've seen 7x04 than I did when we just had the preview. But still. Ughhhhhh I'm just. Conflicted.

They're not sticking to Endgame's time travel rules at all and ik some people didn't like Endgame's time travel but I don't really have issues with it. And even still there's the debate of whether or not Steve (does this debate expand outside Steve arguments? Idk but you get it) is in a branched timeline. Personally, I think he is. For people who think he's not, Shield's time travel, especially with Sousa, is probably easier to take. But for a while I was willing to go with the theory, my own theory idk if it's been mentioned here or not, that since they're using a different time travel method in AoS, and one that was invented by space robots Chronicoms, then they have different rules that limit them to a looped timeline. But now, idk does bringing Sousa into it disprove that?

So he was supposed to die. That's in the history books. They saved him. Which means we're in a loop that can be altered. Ok fine, but that's only because we're using Chronicom time travel. Tony Stark time travel still created branches. So what branch are we in? We have two choices right? Timeline A, which we see throughout the entire MCU, and timeline '49 B, the one Steve created when he went back to Peggy. If it's in the history books that Coulson and the team read that Sousa died, I would assume we're in timeline A. But where's Peggy? Personally I'm not the biggest peggysous stan (basically I ship steggy and in timeline A where she can't get him back, as long as she's happy I'm happy. If that means Daniel, great.) but I'm sure those who are aren't super happy with Shield basically confirming that they didn't make it. I'm sure the only reason they did that was to be able to pull him out of 1955 so I'm not really mad at it. If they had just had him pop in real quick in the 50s and left him there I would have rathered they leave it ambiguous but since that's not what they did I'm not too bitter.

Anyway, I saw a close up of the fake id they made for Jemma when she was undercover as Peggy. It listed her rank as 'agent.' You could say that's a prop mistake but I also noticed that no one has referred to her as 'director.' But she absolutely should be. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Peggy was the first director right? That's always what me, my brother, and my dad, aka everyone in my household who are Marvel fans, thought and we're pretty sure they said it at some point somewhere. And in the Agent Carter one shot (which admittedly has a lot of continuity issues anyway but i think the principle of it stands) Howard said about Peggy "tell her she'll be running Shield." I've always gotten the impression that she was director from the time Shield launched. If someone could give me solid proof that she was or wasn't I'd appreciate it. But as long as there's no proof I'm assuming that she was. That's what I'm going with in the rest of this post anyway lol.

Overall im just confused as to what the writers think they're doing lol. From what I've seen, they started shooting season 7 two months before Endgame premiered so it was written even further before. That sucks because at the time of the writing they didn't know they had all of this to deal with. At least I assume they didn't know bc it seems like there's no communication behind the scenes since no one got dusted before and now we're messing around with time travel. But I also wonder if Endgame hadn't premiered by the time they were shooting the 50s episodes. I have no idea though. If it had, were there changes? Did they have to take out mentions of Peggy, or did Enver maybe act it with the Steggy ending in mind? Because I personally don't want the writers or anyone thinking that Steve was always in a loop therefore this season is jumping around in the same loop and Daniel was left by Peggy for Steve. I can deal with a looped timeline in AoS bc of the Chronicoms and them being in a loop of timeline A but I'm gonna be annoyed if they try to imply that that's not what's happening. But again it was written before Endgame came out so I don't think they'll really go that far.

This is what's really annoying me. Do they seriously think Peggy's not director? Are they saying Peggy's not director? Because they want me to believe that Daniel noticed that Shield had been infiltrated by Hydra and Peggy didn't and then one of three things happened. 1. He told the CIA but not Peggy, 2. He told Peggy but she didn't believe him, or 3. He told Peggy and she looked into it but didn't find anything. I take issue with like all of that. In scenario 1. Daniel Sousa personally knows the Director of Shield and, regardless of any awkward breakup they may of had, doesn't tell her that her government organization may be hijacked by freaking HYDRA? In scenario 2. The Director of Shield is told by the Chief of her LA branch and an agent that she worked alongside for a considerable amount of time that her government organization may be hijacked by Hydra and she doesn't listen to him, because, what, they had a messy breakup? In scenario 3. The Director of Shield, Margaret Elizabeth Carter, has reason to believe that Shield is infiltrated by Hydra, she investigates, and finds absolutely nothing out of the ordinary? None of those sound even almost reasonable. So are they not mentioning that Peggy is director because it makes Daniel's storyline more believable and convenient or am I missing something? I've lost hope that she might make an appearance but I'd appreciate some Director Carter content even in passing mentions or at least tell me who the Director is if it's not her.

Also, Daniel's death, real or not, is gonna hurt her really bad and I'm not a fan of that. I'm glad I didn't have to watch him die and I'm excited to see more of him but it's really gonna mess with Peggy. We've already seen her struggle with feeling like everyone she gets close to dies and even though at this point she's married and maybe has kids, that doesn't take away from what they had in Agent Carter, that goes beyond the romantic and into the fact that he was one of the few men who showed her even the smallest amount of respect. It's gonna hurt her and I don't like when she's hurt. Also also, I don't care about whatever Coulson said about his death being ruled an accident, Peggy is a critical thinker and 100% would have looked into it. Especially as the Director of Shield if I keep saying that maybe AoS will hear me or it'll become canon lol she wouldn't let that slide.

Basically what I'm saying is: I can talk myself into the time travel making sense, I just did lol, but while I love Daniel and getting to see him again and continue to see him in the coming episodes, it stretches the imagination a bit too far concerning Peggy and his dynamic with her. Either that or I have to be to ticked off at the writers for not knowing that Peggy is director in 1955. Or I have to be ticked at the entirety of Marvel for not making Peggy director as soon as the thing was up and running. But. That doesn't mean that this hasn't been a good season so far, it's been pretty great. And I'm very excited to see them in the 70s. And to see Daniel in the 70s. And to see my man Enoch make another appearance. I have my issues but I'm still highly enjoying all of this absolute tomfoolery sldjskdjksksjk that is all

[misterbitches]

i said i would talk about saizon and usually i would be under the influence. but i am not yet. read the * at end of the post first if u want clarification of overall.

i might mention torfight (will refer as f/t) but if anyone gets upset just chill. it’s a really inconsequential opinion. the chances of someone stumbling upon this means nothing. it isnt’ a compare and contrast just how i personally feel while viewing these shows. and i probably want to dive into what this means in a broader context since i have all the time and brain space in the world 

from the first encounter of saifah and zon or their first encounter outside of their “kiss” (LOL? so unnecessary) it was clear that as awkward as it could or may be there was natural chemistry. which i want my tiny head to explore.

so a lot of BL (which is like....tv and movies etc in general anyways) hell even dramas may have a less sexual undertone to get to where they are going. which i think is a problem with tv in general (a friend was bringing this up with the new rules of social distancing on set which...capitalism but whatever)  where sex is a vehicle for connection. a lot of BLs can be explicit i suppose, but in the west it’s like jumping into bed is a huge base for a lot of couples. also everyone fucks too much who cares.

but sex, kisses, hookups, any nudity, etc is not a placeholder for like actual intimacy, romantic love, showing love. that’s part of why i hate the concept of love at first sight, at least the way it plays out. you can really like someone, hell maybe even love, when you see them or feel this bond but the bond isn’t because you TOUCHED them.

there’s a difference between natural chemistry and forced. natural chemistry is what you would prefer which is why casting directors have literally chemistry tests to test your compatibility as actors, with a writer/director, and on camera. there can be people whose chemistry develops and we see the potential, or people who we know don’t love each other IRL and this is acting but it’s still powerful. but this always means you have to give them the time and space. actors can jump in/out of character but it’s human nature. if two peopl eare meeting for the first time and have to simulate sex there’s going to be this natural like...strangeness. obviously. viewers can see it.

so when you get two people who click irl and it doesn’t always have to be romantic or sexually it’s kind of more of a thrill. very obviously mii2 are a lot more flexible around each other so it is less mechanic. i think i like watching tharntype because even tho i feel like parts of it seriously need some oil, i can see and understand a relationship developing through their characters as they act (and i do not particularly think they are good actors.)

the friendship that saizon display—whether we think it is spontaneous and too quick or not—is legitimately nice. and they are very obviously comfortable with each other. i guess there can be an idea of romantic friendship (but idk abt that one, we dont have to fucking label everything you can love someone so deeply in your own way outside of our parameters bla bla capitalism ruining everything bla bla individualism)

they got in each others faces, then would do very weird shit together, because that’s who they are. for me personally i think being able to have fun with your partner is iMPERATIVE. one of my fav moments is when they fucking meow at each other (which i know is a thai joke, right? idk) and it is so weird but you can tell they understand the way they communicate?

to me  like...having someone you feel something deep with is that there’s this role you guys are playing, it’s a joke you started, and with the best kind of intimacy and love your partner can keep it going, keep it rolling, hang it up in the air and you guys just go back adn forth....forever lol 

i also legitimately think it is important to hammer home the fact that you are yourself without a partner and i really resent a message that makes it seem like you can’t live without someone. maybe a lack of saizon was good that way. like they existed as two seperate people. their love and attraction weren’t the only thing going for them. it was just natural and very nice.

this particular display of romance and affection is one that’s strong but doesn’t take itself too seriously. not because you don’t want to lose them but because there’s enough security. or like, it’s really guided by this unspeakable feeling you feel with another person. 

i’m not sure if that means soulmates but it’s something close. saifah doesn’t expect zon to be someone he can’t, but it doesn’t mean he has to let himself go completely for him. when he expressed being sad that zon pulled away it’s normal. and zon knew he couldn’t do it but they still got through it. and then he pats the bed and saifah jumps on him.

these types of couples remind me of why i feel the way i do about love. i can’t imagine something fucking bogging me down, where i feel like i can’t get up without pulling me, where i don’t feel myself first. zon was figuring himself out and he was thinking of himself and his feelings. bc he should. 

that’s another reason why trapped MC (H3) is one of my favs. first of all THEY LAUGHED TOGETHER WHICH IS LIKE A REQUIREMENT UR NO FUN IF UR A SQUARE and second of all they were going to spend year apart and could do that. had to. fuck the carceral state but. 

you don’t ask someone to give up a part of themselves, you only want them to be the best they can be. it isnt through demands it’ sgrowing with them and fucking respecting them with everything you have. and it means having a foundation outside of them, too. 

i know people get upset at the “love anybody but u have to love yourself” adage but i don’t really see it tht way. i absolutely believe you need to learn to be healthy alone and have a community. rely on all sorts of people. have different types of love and figure yourself out. we can’t be free as human beings without it and i would rather fucking die than not feel free. 

oh and like....being with someone where you feel seen and heard not shamed. i read this thing in the atlantic like, partnerships fail a lot because of lack of validation. imagine having someone who trusts you, and maybe helps to trust yourself, and validates you by being there. nice.

and it’s nice having someone you love so deeply and beautifully along for the ride. instead of no actual pleasure outside of sex, your relationship IS the pleasure. beautiful stunning etc. and that’s what makes everythign feel good the love, sex, living, whatever. with someone and with yourself.

this got away from me in conclusion theyre very cute eand that’s cos it’s easy and natural. mii2 are fun to watch as saizon and themselves. life shouldnt be too hard. im a big fan of working as little as possible and being happy kekekek

*i am talking monogamy, love, and the self. why only ‘traditional’ rships? first: i literally cannot handle people because i can’t handle my mind. non-monagamy is incredibly alluring to me for my autonomy, in the abstract, and in theory. however, in practice, i don’t think—for me as a black woman and what it means for me—i can enact anything i feel would be detrimental to me or puts me in a position where i feel forced into a dynamic i no longer care for. 

and who knows if that changes? i only do and care about the things i like and find important. no one else but me, family, and friends. how i choose. so i am talking abt monogamy but u can interpret that for other rships if you wish. 

second: it’s. my. life. 

i dont carrreeee about monogamy/non monagamy outside of liberation and sexual freedom and what does that mean?  there is no blueprint for that. there is no future expectation for a relationship, there is nothing but how we choose to interact with the world and community. first and foremost: love means so many things and it doesn’t have to mean any “new” ideas. or “instincts.” who fucking cares. we can’t reimagine literal relationships, people are fucking toxic in all types of them, only reimagine how we interact with ourselves and each other. there is no fucking guarantee with any of this we are safe. you cannot predict life. just live it. honor yourself first. there’s some black feminists books on like love and intimacy if you are curious how capitalism binds us. we keep wanting to find solutions WITHIN when its like nah, it;s our own fuckin terms. self-love becomes the love you can extract from others. it isn’t sustainable. 

ROMANTIC LOVE WAS INVENTED TO MANIPULATE WOMEN = JENNY HOLZER

[nortromthesilencer]

Bits and Pieces (Compiled)

A compiled RP between @rizzrack​ and Myself

Nortromthesilencer

“What’sa runt like you doing out here alone, anyways?”

This was bad. This was beyond bad. Nortrom backed away some more, the heels of his feet hitting a large root, tree directly behind him inhibiting any further attempts to retreat. Was this really The Silencer? Not in any recognizable sense by those that knew him now: He was much shorter, much leaner, much younger. The once middle aged man was not seen in this child, meekly cowering from the trio of bandits closing in. Used to harassment from his peers and preceptors, Nortrom normally met them with submission and acceptance. Now, he wasn’t sure how to act. He was lost in more ways than one.

“Doubt the kid’s got anything on ‘im. Might be able to ransom ‘im to the town though,” A toothy sneer dragged across the lopsided face of one of the bandits, knife slowly unsheathing. Nortrom’s pale blue eyes locked on the blade, scared, anticipating. Again he tried to back away, pressing his shoulders firm against the rough bark. With no weapon or sense of where he was, the child knew he was facing greatly skewed odds.

“Leave me alone, please.” The timid request was quiet, near begging, and the least threatening thing in the world. It brought about a great laugh from the men, a sound that caused the boy to flinch.

“Ya hear that? Th’ runt said please! Oh boy, now we hav’ to leave ‘im alone!” Their mocking jeers forced Nortrom to droop even more, his situation getting more hopeless by the second.  What did he do to wind up here? Why were these men doing this? The outside world was foreign, and even more so the lawless corruption of thieves.

Rizzrack

Elusive and unpredictable, the Timbersaw still has the uncanny ability to show up in places no one wants him to be, so long as there is a single tree around.

Just a single tree off a dirt road that connects two small towns together. It caught his attention from a distance, like a single thread poking from the seam of a military uniform. Upon approach however the small-keen takes notice of the group. It’s immediate to him that the situation is a bad one. Very likely a dispute between two parties. Normally he wouldn’t intervene… most adults can take care of themselves you know! However, this victim was obviously a child, and Rizzrack would not let that slide by.

If the little gathering wasn’t so absorbed within their matters, then perhaps they may have seen the waddling saw suit approaching in the distance. If they did not, then for sure they would have noticed the metal claw that suddenly smashed into the trunk dangerously close to the child. In mere moments the suit pulls itself over, bumping roughly into the tree and partially uprooting it.

“Oh, pardon me!” The clawed hand nudges the child away from the tree and behind the suit before lifting up and punching the woody giant completely to the ground. He takes a quick glance at the bandits, and the partially unsheathed knife is enough to confirm his assumptions. “I was passing by and couldn’t help but notice your entertainingdisplay of blades!” The Small-Keen leans forward in his seat, eyes squinting at the weapons the bandits hold. “Is that your mother’s silverware? Cute.” He chuckles as he falls back into his seat. The suit brings the saw-arm forward, holding the buzzing limb between them. “Now what do you think of mine?”

Nortromthesilencer

When claw met trunk, the child screamed. Reflexively diving away, beige tunic smearing with dirt as he went to ground, Nortrom watched in wide eyed horror while the massive machine lurched to a stop before them. Mouth agape, he slowly scrambled back, still on his butt.

The bandits were not so lucky in making any meaningful distance, instead stuck face to face (or face to saw) with the timbersuit. One looked at the kid, still dragging himself even further away and much too shocked to stand just yet, then back to the saw, then his knife, then the saw again, and threw his hands up with a shout. “Fuck this, not worth it!” At those words, the trio were quick to run, not wanting to risk their lives over this.

Realizing now that one of the threats had retreated, Nortrom scrambled to his feet. Not taking his eyes from the timbersuit, he stepped back ever so slowly, thinking that if he went slow it wouldn’t notice him. With how little else there was around them, he knew this was doubtful but tried anyways.

Rizzrack

The small-keen can’t help himself but to let out a little “ha-hah!” at the sight of the fleeing bandits. “Those three made the right choice! I really wasn’t looking forward to spending a day cleaning a red mess off my blades. Now then…” He glances behind him at the child slowly backing away, his expression becomes stern.

“Oooh no no no I need to have a word with you, little one!” Rizzrack hops down from the cockpit and approaches Nortrom, finger pointed disapprovingly. “Don’t you know it isdangerous out here nowadays?” He stands before him, looking up with hands on cocked hip and tsks away. “Lucky thing I was around. Who knows what could have happened to you? They could have seriously hurt you!” he exclaims, waving his hand towards the direction the bandits fled. “Or that!” He includes the uprooted tree. “Your parents must be worried sick! Unless… they sent you out on an errand all alone. Then I’ll have a word with them too!”

Nortromthesilencer

Once out of the suit, this odd fellow wasn’t anywhere near as intimidating. Nortrom recognized the race, a small keen, from his many studies yet never imagined they really were as short as he read. Hell, the child was only 10 and still stood taller than this one!

He stopped backing up now, one arm rubbing his other anxiously. Still speaking softly, the boy maintained eye contact out of habit. “S-sorry sir. I know it’s dangerous but I don’t know where I am… or how I got here even…”

Clasping the fidgeting hand into a fist, he thought, expression shifting as he did so every few seconds, wracking his brain as to just how he got here. “M-Maybe it was an error in the teleportation spell…?” Nortrom sunk into his own hands, holding his head and groaning loudly, “I’m going to be in so much trouble for this…”

Rizzrack

Firm face turns to a softer expression, one of sympathy for the poor boy. Don’t stress him any more than he needs to be, after all he did just get out of a frightening ordeal.

“Oh, perhaps! B-but don’t think about that right now. Let’s just get you back home, how’s about that? Sound good? Good!” He turns back around and climbs his way back into his suit, continuing to talk to the child. “So you may not know where you are, but if you know where you need to go, we can work from there. Teleportation is tricky business, you won’t catch me messing with that sort of thing often. Oh!” Once seated, he brings the suit over to the boy and leans out over the cockpit extending his gloved hand. “I’m Rizzrack by the way, also known as Timbersaw by those that get on my bad side. Hehe, but you won’t have to worry about that! Now what’s your name kiddo?”

Nortromthesilencer

The cultural concept of a hand shake is lost on the child, who just stares with confusion at the yellow glove as it’s presented. Instead, the boy bows his shoulders slightly, and keeps his eyes down while speaking, “Greetings, sir. I- I have been instructed not to tell outsiders my name. I do thank you for the help, however.” While Nortrom didn’t completely know why this was a rule, he assumed it was for safety or the sort. The reality was quite close, his order wishing to keep him secret and safe from any who would disrupt their prophesied plan.

Lifting his posture once more and cautiously taking a look over at the suit before him, blades and all, the boy absentmindedly tried to answer Rizzrack’s other question. “I’m from the Hazhadal Barrens, by their northern mountains.” Metal, wood, and other strange materials; He had never seen such a contraption before and was fascinated by it. All but ignoring the keen, Nortrom was in awe as he looked over every joint and limb.

Rizzrack

The little bow is odd. It’s polite, but odd, something that Rizzrack has never seen to come from a child. The small-keen nods understandingly. “That’s smart! I get it, you can’t trust everyone.”

He leans back into his suit, thinking on the response. Hazhadal Barrens? That sounds oddly familiar. Where did he hear that from? Hmm, barrens… maybe someplace he himself wandered to for some momentary solace from the trees. Rizzrack looks back to the child, taking notice of how captivated he is of the suit. He has every right to be! Not many who live in a world where magic is the norm can appreciate the true wonder that is technology. It fills him with a sense of pride, and dangerously enough, an urge to show off his creation and perhaps even influence a young mind.

“Pretty amaaaazing, right? Hmhm, I know.” Rizzrack pats the dashboard lovingly. “The one-of-a-kind Timbersaw. Top of the line monster to lumber converter! It slices, it dices, it chops up your nightmares into itty bitty pieces so  you’ll never have to worry about them again. And-” He continues. “It can be your best friend.” Shoving a few levers, Rizzrack brings the suit down into a squat, enabling Nortrom to get a much better look at the controls within. “You may behold my amazing invention, but don’t stare for too long or-.” Rizzrack’s jesting is interrupted as the suit suddenly begins to shudder. The smoke from the exhaust sputters until it all falls silent. “Oh, no no! Dangit! Not again…”

Nortromthesilencer

Jumping back as the suit staggers and creaks into a crouch, Nortrom can’t help but grin a bit while Rizzrack goes on his rant about the wonders of the suit. He circles it, not touching, ogling every gear, every lever, every system and weld. Knowing very little about such mechanics as it wasn’t a topic of study in any of his courses, the boy can’t help but be enraptured by this new sight. Curiosity eventually gets the better of him and Nortrom carefully runs a finger across one of the welded seems. The suit sputtered and twitched as if in protest, and again the boy jumped back.

“I…” Did he break it? A dawning look of horror replaces the short lived grin, hands pulling back to his side immediately, and a few very slow steps in retreat his first instinctive reaction. Nortrom store wide eyed up at the suit’s angered pilot and cringes, recoiling into his own posture, “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to break it…”

Rizzrack

Completely distracted by his suit, Rizzrack fails to see the boy’s growing stress.

“I can’t believe it!” Hands fling into the air and he groans out his frustrations to the world. “You just have to go and break, don’t you?? Disappointing, ABSOLUTELY disappointing!” Rizzrack moans. It’s only then that he hears a quivering voice and turns his scowling face towards the child. “What? Break it?” He stares down at the shrinking, fear-stricken child. “Ah no, trust me, even if you wanted to break it you wouldn’t… er…” His words did nothing to comfort the boy. Confusion replaces anger, and Rizzrack can only  stand there and rub the back of his neck awkwardly. Geesh, the kid sounds like an orphaned apprentice, and Rizzrack wouldn’t at all be surprised if he was adopted by some nasty keen-folk from that town near The Jungle. “I-it’s okay! It happens! Sometimes things go wrong but they go wrong for a reason. Sometimes that reason is your normal wear and tear, other reasons is to just make me miserable. Why don’t we just take a look, hmm? Nooo reason to be scared.” Turning towards his suit, Rizzrack begins his very unorganized method of trouble shooting. A few minutes are spent opening compartments, tracing wires, tapping gauges until finally he finds a possible cause.

“Ah-hah! There’s the problem!” His tone of optimism is quickly dulled by annoyance. “The fuel line leaked… No matter! I always keep a little extra on me in case of emergencies, such as when the hose clamp doesn’t want to do its one job. Just give me a second.” Fishing around in the cockpit, the small-keen pulls out a bottle large enough to require to of his hands to properly hold and pulls off the cap to sniff the contents. “Nope.” He places it back and grabs another identical bottle and repeats the process. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He places the bottle of clear liquid upon the control panel of the suit. “That my boy, is fuel, and it’s what makes this big brat run.” Rizzrack turns his attention back to the hoses of the suit as he attempts to make corrections. Every few seconds there’s an annoyed mutter and a bump, and with every bump, the bottle slowly nudges closer and closer to the edge of the slightly tilted cockpit…

Nortromthesilencer

The child let out a deep sigh of relief, breath being held as he waited to be berated. It was reassuring knowing he wasn’t the cause of the malfunction, and although still on edge, worked up the courage to peer over Rizzrack’s shoulder at the work he was doing. So lost was he in the hoses, gaskets, valves, and makeshift repairs that Nortrom paid little attention to what was beside them, that small bottle inching ever so closer to the edge of the timber-suit.

“This looks really complex,” he noted, head tilting in confusion at the machines innards. Not wanting to get in the way of Rizzrack’s light, when the keen moved so too did the child, right into the bottle. An echoing crash of broken glass against stone forced his attention away, the look of horror dawning on his face once again.

This time, he knew he was the cause.

He lept back, crowding the broken bottle, kneeling down to start frantically picking up the glass shards with his bare hands. “No, no no… I didn’t mean… I’ll, I’ll clean this up. I’ll…” Nortrom knew he couldn’t replace the bottle contents, and that scared him most of all. Not only did he break the glass, he ruined whatever was inside. Nearly hyperventilating in panic, he untucked his tunic and held it forward, placing the shards in like a makeshift basket, shaking, and not watching out for the sharp edges that occasionally grazed his skin.

Rizzrack

“It looks complex, but once you  become familiar with what’s what, it’s really quite easy to understand an-”

The breaking of glass causes him to flinch and let out a squeak of fright. He whips around and leans over the Timbersuit to stare in dismay at the broken pieces, watching the diesel flow across the ground and dissipate. Brows furrow and with gritted teeth he turns his attention to the boy. “Why would yo-..!” The boy’s frantic attempt to clean the shards and utter disregard of the glass cutting his skin stops Rizzrack from reprimanding the boy. Is this kid alright!? Once again confusion and worry grips the Keen. “D-don’t… stop picking those up you’ll get seriously hurt!” Hands pat the air as he tries to calm the boy. Seeing as he won’t let up, Rizzrack grabs the other bottle of water in his arms and carefully leaps down from the suit.

Placing the bottle down beside him, he firmly grips the child’s wrists. “Stop! Stop! Look!” he turns the palms skyward, shaking glass shards from them and wincing at the sight of the red nicks. “No need to save the pieces. We can’t put it back together. Ugh. Keep your hands there.” Retrieving the bottle of water, he removes the seal and positions the neck over the boys hands and slowly begins to pour the contents. “You can’t just handle broken glass or chemicals without proper protection. You need to wear gloves. Like I do.” Placing the bottle back down beside him. the small-keen takes a knee in front of the boy in an attempt to seem less intimidating in hopes the boy would calm down. He begins to inspect the young hands for any small slivers that may have embedded themselves within the skin. By the looks of it, nothing very serious.

“I appreciate you trying to be responsible, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” He sighs, quite annoyed at the loss of fuel, but it doesn’t mean the end of the world for them. Yet.

Nortromthesilencer

As Rizzrack raised his arms, the child coward, glass shards falling from his tunic as it bent back, arms attempting to protect himself from an expected beating. When they grabbed his wrists he bowed his head, still cringing, waiting, expecting pain at any moment…

None came.

Opening one eye and sheepishly peeking out from his cowering form, the child watched as Rizzrack worked to clean his hands instead of pull at them. But why? It was his fault the bottle fell, it was his fault it broke, and it was his duty to accept punishment for his errors.

As the seconds passed, Nortrom found himself breathing less erratically and forcing himself to stand more straight. He still held the look of a scared animal, but there was even more confusion turning his brows.

“I– I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I ruined your repairs.” Some part of him expected the Keen to no longer wish to help him for being such a useless kid.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack places Nortrom’s hands down. He takes a moment to observe the child, to ensure he’s calmed down. Just about every reaction from the boy confuses the small-keen, bringing to mind worrisome thoughts for the child’s well-being and questionable upbringing.

“It’s fine. It was an accident, and what every good inventor knows, accidents can lead to discovery. Thus, I have discovered I shouldn’t leave fragile glass bottles on the edge of the timbersuit. I think that’s a good lesson.”

He stands back up and closes his remaining bottle of water. He turns his attention back to the suit, glancing over it in thought. Hmm. Until he can get more fuel, he’ll just have to operate it through ‘keen-power’. The sawblades won’t operate and the suit will be completely ineffective at cutting, but it’s still a much better alternative to the other possibly dangerous option. An option he shouldn’t have to take for as long as there’s no immediate danger, everything should be fine.

“Welp.” Rizzrack climbs his way back into the suit, placing the bottle away and beginning to convert the suit from fuel-power to muscle-power. “No point in wasting more time sitting around. We’ll take a trip to the town east of here and get some more fuel, then from there we’ll ask for directions to the barrens. Don’t worry kiddo we’ll get you home.” After some quick reassuring the small-keen begins to ride the Timbersuit towards the desired direction with much more force and effort required to push and pull the levers. It occurs only now  occurs to Rizzrack the child may not want to follow a stranger to some other place, but he hopes the boy won’t decline. It’s unsafe out here, and despite there not being much vegetation, with the suit in a vulnerable state, anything could mean death.

Nortromthesilencer

Despite the lessons learned, Nortrom didn’t feel at all convinced that this wasn’t his fault and he wasn’t deserving of punishment for being so careless. Still, the child wasn’t going to push the matter, happy to for once not be berated. What didn’t cross his mind, however, was not following: it would be a hell of a lot safer with this keen than out alone in the middle of an unknown land.

“Yes sir.” Obediently he followed the suit, walking with his hands held at his sides and posture straight. Operating the suit manually looked labour intensive, and while the child wanted to ask if he could help, he also didn’t wish to cause any more problems.

He took this time as they walked to silently look more at their saroundings, and even curiously ponder what the town would be like. Where he came from, most hubs were built around oasis or well points, and he was always instructed not to speak to anyone or leave the group. Never had Nortrom had a chance to freely explore, instead letting his imagination run wild as to how many things might be hidden where no one dare look.

The child was lost in his own thoughts, so very quiet, walking in file.

Rizzrack

He’s following. Good. Good. It settles well with Rizzrack, bringing about a good feeling. He trusts you! But can’t let him down, might be the only one he can depend on out here as well. Which reminds him…

“How did you end up in this place anyways? hmph. Did you get kidnapped? huff.” It’s only been a few minutes and he’s already working up a sweat. “Wouldn’t surprise me. hff. There’s all sorts of whewfelids around here. They’re happy to help strangers, but hmff the moment their eye catches any huff any sign of vulnerability, you’re nothing but prey to them. huff huff. So stick close to me.”

The landscape is flat and dry with little vegetation dotted about. It’s a perfect place for Timbersaw to travel through and wind down from territories infested with trees. It’s also perfect for the inhabitants who love to disappear into the dust when they desire to lose a chaser off their tails.

They couldn’t get to the town soon enough. One can be easily fooled to believe it to be a ghost town. The style of buildings and height of doorways hint that humans lived here before at some point. Perhaps it was some trading hub, seeing as how it resides on a road that connects two seperate, larger towns. Due to the other town being destroyed by powers of nature, it left this road unused and the little town soon abandoned. At least by the humans.

Shadows move glide silently within the buildings like ghosts. Its unsettling and one would think the dendrophobic keen would be frightened, but he is not. Instead, he continues through, passing by a very large structure resembling a bucket with a cone on top.

“That is a water tower. It has no water in it. Speaking of.” He stops the suit in front of a creaky shop with a wooden sign reading “supply”. He grabs the bottle from earlier that is only now filled halfway with water and hands it to the boy. “Drink. It’s easy to die out here.”

Rizzrack hops down from his suit and takes a moment to rub his tired arms before heading up the uneven wooden steps to approach a dark open window. “Madini?”

Emerald eyes appear from the darkness within like orbs of magic in the night.

“Se ‘ami newi, keen. The mechanism thirsts for more? Hmhmm.” The voice is soft and feminine, yet raspy. Already familiar with this particular customer, the sound of her retrieving a can of fuel and placing it upon a table is heard within. As she awaits a container to fill, her eyes glance behind Rizzrack and catch sight of the boy. “Ah, t’enika, a strong young boy. You belong to the keen? Give me the bottle.” From the dark a black furred paw emerges. Pad facing up, the claws open and close, beckoning the boy to come near.

Nortromthesilencer

Watching the Keen struggle wasn’t something Nortrom wanted, but still he feared helping would instead make things worse. Instead, the child quietly answered his questions to the best of his abilities, “I’m not sure how I got here. I woke up in the middle of the road, and I hurt all over. Maybe one of the teleport spells we use at the cantonment messed up?” He shrugged, just as confused as anyone else would be.

With a gracious bow the child took the jar, a small ‘thank you’ chirping from his lips before he took a sip. The rest he saved, holding on to the bottle very firmly, not wanting a repeat of the last accident.

There was something oddly familiar about the town, a sort of Barren-esque feeling that put Nortrom at a bit more ease than he was before. The cities and towns there would come and go like the wind, their lively-hood based on weather conditions and water, and shifting just like the dust that inhabited them. Even the shop keeper was familiar, a feline like race he had seen before in the Barrens. Nortrom recalled a small fact that their large ears helped thermo-regulate their bodies,and survive the harsh conditions where other races would overheat…

He snapped out of his trance like state when spoken to, looking down at the bottle in his hands. Tilting his head towards Rizzrack, the boy cautiously stepped forward and placed it in her paw. If Rizzrack was trusting of this figure, surely he could be as well? Well, maybe not trusting, that was the wrong word, but at least accepting that she didn’t mean them harm for the time being. They did seem to know one another.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack crosses his arms and sighs, head bowed as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Ugh, you could say that. The fuel hose came loose and I don’t have enough diesel to clear the lines. Do you know how troublesome it is to fix that? Very troublesome! Sometimes I have to ask myself why I don’t just…” The small-keen continues on rambling to a feline who couldn’t look any more disinterested.

Madini grabs the bottle with both hands and pulls it in through the window. Noticing that there is still some water within the vessel, she takes a moment to lap up some of it before dumping the last remaining bit out the window in a wasteful manner. Such is the way of felines. With some patting of the bottle to empty it as much as possible, she sets it down to fill it to the rim with fuel from the can.

“… I mean I could always take a more economical route and attach a-” Rizzrack is interrupted from his vocal thoughts by the sound of a claw tapping glass. Seeing it, he grabs it all while continuing his yammering and goes back to tend to his suit. Finding the keen to be distracted, the feline leans ever so slightly towards the window. The light of outside just barely reaches in to show her previously hidden features. Unlike the fur on her arms, the fur of her face is much shorter and freely shows her wrinkles. It’s possible she may well be along in her time. She beckons Nortrom closer, expressing her desire to speak to him.

“We’ati, how are you stuck with this keen?” She waves a paw towards the direction of Rizzrack who is much too occupied trying to restart the Timbersuit to notice the the talking going on behind his back. “Do you know what one means when they say someone is not all there? He is crazy.” She hisses softly. “Talking, talking, talking about trees. Everything trees. He say he will cut them all. What trees do you see out here?  Monyi…” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I do not think those teeth only cut through wood.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom finds himself looking back and forth between the pair, Rizzrack lost in his suit and Madini gracefully getting the fuel situation sorted out. He was used to just silently standing to the side, a backdrop, as others spoke and did their thing. When gestured to approach the feline closer, he felt it fine to do so as Rizzrack was occupied with the suit.

“Er…” Hesitant to cast any judgement, the boy side eyes Rizzrack as she spoke, the way he was talking to his machine as he worked, and slowly nodded. Maybe it was just Keen thing? “He– He helped me when bandits wanted to hurt and sell me. Said that he will help me get back home.” The more the child thought about it, the more doubtful he became. Could this odd pink Keen actually help him? “I don’t know where we are, Ma’am; where I am. I’m trying to get back to the Hazhadal Barrens.”

Nortrom still refused to give his name out, remembering the preceptors lessons very well. As much as he felt an outcast and useless, Nortrom missed his bed. He missed the secure walls of the cantonment, and the fact there was food. For some strange reason, he even missed his studies. Out here? He was alone, scared, lost, and unsafe.

Sinking into his posture as those thoughts crept on him, the child huffed softly, depressed. “I don’t know what else to do but follow him.”

Rizzrack

The feline tenses ever so subtly at the mention of the bandits, her slit pupils gradually dilate. “Fi’ hateh tena fe.” Madini looks behind the boy, startled by the noise the machine makes as it sputters and returns to operational status. Desperation hinting, she continues. “Do not go with the keen. You are smart boy. You are better with me. I know the Hazhadal Barrens.” She leans back to avoid suspicion as Rizzrack returns with the now empty bottle.

“Whew, well that’s resolved! I’ll need another for the road, madame.” Rizzrack trilled as he pushed the bottle through the window. Madini is much less talkative now, a detail Rizzrack fails to notice as she refills the bottle and trades it back to the keen in return for a sum of gold. Taking the bottle, the keen does a cringing attempt to bid a farewell in her tongue as he made his way back to the rumbling suit to climb in and place the bottle away. “Alright boy let’s get you back home.”

Madini watches silently, intently, gold in paw and her pupils like a black sun in an emerald sky. What will the boy do?

Nortromthesilencer

Oh no. Doubt floods Nortrom’s little head, and now he’s not sure keen on following the keen. His expression sours, tense, and for once the boy chooses to speak up for himself. “Wait,” If he could get one thing answered, he might be more inclined to choose, finding out who really does know of his home and who doesn’t, “Where are we right now? What region, or border?” This sudden change of demeanor will most likely not go unnoticed by the Keen, and Nortrom knows it, but he has to ask. He needs answers.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack pauses and pulls his hands from the levers, confused at Nortrom’s actions. Before he can even say anything, Madini pounces at the opportunity to answer. “This town is to the west of Sunridge, where one may see across the canyon the remains of the Fortress of Valhessi.”

“Canyon? Oh, I’ve passed by a canyon not too long ago! That way.” Madini is once again quick to correct the direction the keen points in. Realizing he may be wrong, Rizzrack sheepishly plays off his incorrect finger-pointing as a hand wave. “.. That waaay… may be the best way to go. Yep.” The suit adjusts its orientation to face the direction Madini pointed to. “Thank you for the directions Madini I’ll be sure to visit you again soon.” The timbersuit begins to walk as Rizzrack is quite sure the boy would have no reason NOT to follow him, especially now that he’s going in the right direction.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom’s doesn’t budge. He frowns, fists balled up, “Sir, are you lost?” Looking around, the child compares the sun’s path with what Madina had said and indeed confirms her directions to be true. With a cocked head and a sour look, Nortrom sighs, “I’m thankful for your help, but how can you help me get home if you don’t know where we are?”

Turning to Madina, he gestures innocently, “Ma'am said she knows where the Barrens are from here.” If she wished to keep her little conversation secret, that opportunity was now lost. Nortrom was taught to never lie, as deception is the weapon of the Fold and he was better than that, “She said she could help.”

Rizzrack

The suit stops and the keen turns to face the boy, expression in a forced smile followed by a nervous laugh. “D-do I, LOOK… lost? Do I?” Nostrils flare as the boy points out that it’s true, Rizzrack doesn’t know where they are. The keen looks to the feline and practically shoots daggers at her, now quite aware she has some sort of part in this. Of course.  Madini nods quite calmly, ignoring Rizzrack’s growing temper. “I will be gr-”

“NO!” Rizzrack interrupts. He huffs, then laughs, finding his own reaction to be a waste of energy. “No, haha, I understand! It’s okay! Stay with the cat! She knows better than I do! I don’t know anything!” He adds, hands waving about his head in dramatic fashion. “I helped out enough, after all. You don’t need me anymore. Madini will help you get home.” That last sentence in particular is said quite roughly towards the feline. Almost as if it were a threat. She remains cool and grants a mewl of pity towards the keen.  “Veti ni me’e-”

“Don’t patronize me, I know I’m wrong!” Rizzrack takes another breath, putting effort into speaking more calmly. In the end he sighs, posture slumping, defeated. He didn’t like to be wrong, but pretending to be right won’t erase the embarrassment, nor get anyone home. “Just be safe, okay? It was nice knowing you- uh…kid. ” He never got the boy’s name, but maybe it was for the best. Turning around, the Timbersuit heads back the way it came. No beckoning for the child to follow. No good bye.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom felt guilty, very guilty, as the Keen went on his little rant. He sunk even more, shoulders tucked in, posture hidden, trying to disappear into the air. “S-sorry. Thank-you for your help…” He couldn’t take his eyes off Rizzrack as his machine walked away. Was this the right choice?

Still slumped, the boy shuffled to face Madina. His lips were pursed, sucked into an awkward frown, “I- er… I guess I’m with you now, Ma’am.”

Rizzrack

Madini’s pupils thinned, her gaze relaxing and with excellent hearing one may be able to pick up the faint sound of purring. “He is a danger. Ayi zeni, Ayi zeni… Do not feel sorrow. I will be sure that you are taken care for.” Leaving her spot from the window, she steps to the side behind the door next to where she was. There is some fumbling, some clicking, and the door opens partially to reveal more of the feline who is quite surprisingly close in height to Nortrom. She beckons the boy inside. “Come in, stay cool. I will prepare for the travel.”

Nortromthesilencer

Looking back one last time at Rizzrack vanishing in the distance, Nortrom nodded and obediently followed. Escape from the sun is most welcome, as is the prospect of finally having a route home. Forgetting about his hunger and regret, the boy instead takes comfort in what appears to finally be a positive tone to this whole damned experience.

The inner room is quite cluttered, stacks of goods and supplies gathered in crates and bags against the walls, and dirty sewn rugs laid out on the ground. Nortrom was very careful not to touch anything.

Rizzrack

Very carefully Madini closes the door. Her steps are light as she moves around and away the dim light, nearly one with the shadows and objects. She paces about the boy, her attention on moving around various objects with no real purpose, keeping the boy within her periphreal vision.

Waiting.

She steps behind Nortrom, a thin rag in her paws. When she finds she’s out of the boy’s vision and he’s grown relaxed to the environment… She makes her move.

Pressing her form against his back, she throws her hands with cloth over his head, taking advantage of whatever shriek he may have cried out of surprise by tugging rag tight between his jaws. “Shhh.” Keeping the hold firm against herself and slightly above the ground she forces Nortrom on his toes. Maneuvering him to a wall, she pins him there and hisses to a previously unseen party to assist in capturing the boy.

Nortromthesilencer

With both the door and the window closer, there was very little light. Nortrom stepped inward more, avoiding tripping on boxes or Madina, and stood still awaiting directions.

The sudden movement and force caused Nortrom to jump, his yelp cut off mid breath by a cloth being abruptly wedged between his teeth. His hands shot up trying to grab hold of her own from behind him, the awkward angle doing little to help, and the shock leaving him off guard long enough for her to shove him against the wall. Even with the cloth making it hard to speak, muffled questions and protests were attempted, Nortrom still trying to push his hand against the wall and free himself from her weight.

“W-wht ar yu dongh?!? Et ee go!”

No longer at ease, he was quite the opposite! Nortrom was terrified, expecting this woman to help him and not assault him. He thrashed, refusing to make things easy for her.

Rizzrack

Madini did not respond to him, instead she only kept him firm against the wall but unable to do anything else. That is until another pair of hands came into the picture, grabbing the boys wrists and securing them together behind his back.

“Me’in iyadereki newi?”

“Lijuni leme shet’i ini mokiraleni.”

“Madini!”

The voices sound nearly identical, giving the illusion that Madini could possibly be talking to herself. One voice is angered, apparently appalled, the other voice trying to calm the first and speaking like this is usual business. They speak in their tongue all while two pairs of paws (one being reluctant) work on binding the boy. Elbows, knees and feet tied tight together, Nortrom is pulled away from the wall and returned to it with his back against it and pushed to the floor. He is faced with the shadow silhouettes of two nearly identical felines. The only difference being their dress and demeanors. They speak to each other, the one that must be Madini trying to reason with the other, and eventually being successful. The twin gives up, only glancing the boy a blank look before stepping out of the room.

“Do not be upset. It is only to make sure you do not get lost again.” ***

He laughed, chuckled, even joked about it. It was his looks. A bald dirty keen trying to help out a child. He must’ve been scary from the start. Of course a lady, feline or not, would be more trustworthy than himself. He may have goofed up once or twice, flustered by the sudden question and not knowing east from west. He was put on the spot! He’s not that foolish…

The feeling continues to linger. It’s a feeling many others have felt, for example, what a child may feel when they see a friend run off to go play with another friend and getting left behind. Perhaps it was silly to get worked up over it, but Rizzrack couldn’t help it. What makes him feel even worse is the last memory will consist of a very miserable looking boy who definitely did not intend to make the keen feel bad. Knowing already how the boy reacts over small mistakes or accidents, Rizzrack can only imagine that he left the boy in tears. Oh no.

“He probably hates me! Probably never wants to see me again. Never ever. But I probably made him feel bad so…” The keen sighs down to his suit. “It’s okay. He’ll get home and be safe… hopefully.” Rizzrack, caught up in his thoughts, slows the suit to a stop and the engine drops into a low idle, but thoughts about the boy refuse to leave his mind. Will he be home safe? Will his parents be happy to see him? Judging how jumpy he was previously… What if they’ll yell at him or punish him for being lost? Even worse, what if they’ll beat him? Thinking on and on about it, he’s suddenly reminded of someone else with a harsh upbringing. Silencer. Rizzrack shakes his head at the thought, imagining that poor boy growing up to be a bitter man like that one. Just get the bad thoughts out of your head, he’s a young timid child. The world can’t be harsh to him. He probably just has strict parents, don’t think too much of it.

The thoughts only keep coming, thoughts about how the child was almost kidnapped, how he could fall to harm, hurt, scared, crying….

Screaming…

“Great, now I’m hearing things.”

Nortromthesilencer

It didn’t matter how he fought, the awkward angle and pulling was just too much and soon able to wrench his hands behind his back, binding them tightly. He winced, biting hard on the cleave of fabric as his shoulders were contorted painfully, rough rope digging into his skin against his will.

Turned around and pushed back, Nortrom let out a sharp exhale as he hit the wall, sliding to the ground and pulling his knees into his chest in fear. He cowed, eyes pleading with them not to do this, tears dotting the bottom on his eyelashes as he shook. Oh gods, what had he gotten himself into?

He tries one more time to cry for help, something, anything. Most likely no one is around to hear…

***

Their last mark had been a bust, and damn were they sour about it. Refusing to walk away empty handed this day, a pathetic looking trio skulked about the dust laden town in looks for their next target. As fate would have it, the nearest shop or storage haven would be owned by a certain cat-like woman, with a target of her own.

Rizzrack

Lijuni why do you let your sister play around in such undesirable practice? She steps about outside to ponder her thoughts in the visibly empty town.. all save for the figures approaching. She remembers them, as not too long ago during a nightly walk she observed them stalking a small caravan along a trail. Suspecting the trio intending foul deeds, she returns inside to see her sister Madini crouched down beside the boy, gently patting his hair and clicking her tongue softly to calm him.

“Madini, lēbochi yimet’alu.”

Her ears perk and her attention is seized away from the boy. Could it be the same bandits earlier that the keen mentioned? If so, they’ll no doubt want the boy and may pay a small sum to take him. If he was their hostage, the ransom they seek will far outweigh the expense made to regain their lost captive. The boy will be back with his family, the bandits will have their gold, and she will have her share. Perfect.

“Lijuni, tewe.” Madini rises from her spot and approaches her twin, stopping the other from barricading the door with crates. They speak more, with Lijuni growing powerless to persuade her sister away from this idea, and Madini pushing her aside to keep an eye on the boy while she steps out.

Immediately she catches sight of the party, and with graceful steps she walks from the wooden porch and approaches them with utmost confidence.

“Se ‘ami newi, my friends. How tired you are. Seek shade within my shop. Look around while you rest. Perhaps I may have something that will interest you as well?” Her voice is smooth, welcoming, so sure that yes, they will find something they will like to get their hands on.

~*~*~*~*~

Did he drink enough? What if he gets sunburn? Or dehydrates? Gets heat exhaustion? Will Madini take care of him? What if she doesn’t know the signs of heat stroke and he dies? Or worse, what if she ignores his pleas for water? What if they get lost? Would she kill and eat him to survive? She’s a predator after all, with those sharp claws and animal eyes.

Images, terrible fantasies, any horror he could think of filled his mind more and more. Why was he feeling this way? He should feel sure knowing the boy is with someone who knows the area. But why does he have his doubts and worries? Does he really trust Madini? She never personally wronged him but…

The suit stops in its tracks. He won’t get over it, but maybe, just maybe if he goes back, maybe to give a proper farewell to the boy that he deserves and to keep good ties with Madini, maybe he’ll feel better. yeah, maybe he’ll feel better.

Timbersaw turns around, stepping back through the dusty dirt towards the town in the distance. It was hot now that the sun was only just now falling from high in the sky and he had no more water on his person, but the trip back won’t take too long and perhaps he could pay a little more gold for some of Madini’s water rations.

Nortromthesilencer

With every pat the child flinches away. Other children may enjoy such coddling, but Nortrom never had that sort of nurturing touch, and to him it felt very unfamiliar and served to make things worse. He whimpered, pulling himself even tighter into a ball.

There was more speaking, more movement, and more words that Nortrom didn’t understand take place. As they spoke he fiddled with his wrists, twisting and turning them, doing little but further rub raw his flesh and cause more pain. Eventually the source of their conversations was made known, a familiar trio stepping into the home.

Nortrom’s eyes widened and he froze. Oh no. No no no.

Upon seeing the child, thoughts of raiding the place anticipated and instead turned into a much more sadistic grin, the bandits stepping closer and chuckling between themselves. “Your right, you do have something that interests us, Kehehe…”

There were negotiations, multiple bartered offered, plans, and more being made over the boy as he could only sit and listen, his own self being nothing more than a commodity to be bickered over. If any looked his way during said discussions, his eyes begged, pleaded for them to reconsider, head shaking slowly. Legs having cramped he was no longer curled up, and in opening his posture he felt even more exposed to their leers and dire intentions. It took every ounce of strength for Nortrom not to blubber like a baby.

Rizzrack

Madini was quite proud of herself, finding buyers she could bargain with, pushing her limits to get as much gold out of it as possible. Lijuni could only stand by and watch the dealings silently. No sympathy was shown for the boy, eyes blind to the fear and tears so that she may not be stirred to interfere with her sister’s work. Finding an amount she’s willing to trade Nortrom for, Madini turns her attention back towards the boy. “I can only imagine the discipline and teaching that went into raising this boy. He is worth a very fine price.” Although she is not intentionally rough, her pulling and forcing him to his feet cause pain, maybe even draw a whimper from the boy. She beckons her sister over to help hold him, and with a paw out, she waits for their payment. “He is all yours.”

~*~*~

Nearly back into town, Rizzrack continues to talk away his worries, convincing himself that everything is fine. There’s no reason to think anything wrong. His intuition wasn’t always right.

Except when…

The suit pauses and the small-keen leans over the cockpit, having caught an interesting detail in the dirt road. Footprints. Not paw pads, but actual boots. Felines weren’t find of footwear, preferring their steps to leave little to no marks or sound on other surfaces. On top of that, these marks broke over his suit’s after he left town. Someone came after him, someone he doesn’t know.

Or does he?

Worried and once again thinking the worse, the suit starts forward again, picking up pace. It can only move so fast without the assistance of a nice trunk to be cut. However it’s not long before he approaches the shop, his eyes trailing the track of foot prints right up the steps.

“Madini? A-are you still here?”

The two felines within tense up and look towards the door. Not wanting to lose her chance, Madini becomes more demanding, nearly shoving her claws into one of the bandit’s face. “Pay now or you don’t get the boy!” she hisses.

Nortromthesilencer

Yanked to his feet and roughly dragged due to being bound, Nortrom gave a muffled yelp through the gag and attempted to hop along as not to fall over. Distracted by everything going on, he doesn’t hear the sound of a voice outside, instead feeling a sharp prick of alert claws digging into his arm where it held him up.

The trio did, however, hear Rizzrack’s voice. They may not recognize it, but could tell Madini was now rushing them because of whoever this was. The smaller, portlier, of the trio dug through his bags, scrounging up what was agreed, shushing the cat to ‘calm her titties’ and stop hurrying them.

With both feline’s attention occupied elsewhere and the men not looking directly at him, Nortrom felt he had little other choice but to take his chances and get the hell out of there. Jumping up he slammed down on Madini foot, the sudden pain forcing her to let go and shout. Another strong leap pushed the boy away from all others and towards the door, his shoulder hitting it hard but not buckling the wood. Expecting he couldn’t break it down, frantic small hands behind his back tried to push the knob around. Not being able to see what he was doing, and having his movement greatly restricted at the elbows, he only just cracked the door open before being grabbed once more.

“What the fuck do you think your doin’ lad?” He was forced forward by the hair, directly into another waiting fist to his gut. Nortrom crumpled forward, as far as he could while being held up painfully by his messy black hair, and groaned. Now their property, the bandits weren’t afraid to prove it to the child through force. A strong armed punch to the face rocked Nortrom forward, slamming into the door, forcing it wide open as he toppled to the ground, “You don’t fuckin’ misbehave, ya hear me?”

Coins were thrown Madini’s way finally, the tallest focused on Nortrom who lie on the ground. After a kick that rolled him onto the side coughing, blood dripping from his previously battered nose, the child tried to curl up into a ball once more and protect himself. About to drag the child up, both men now outside stopped when they saw the cast shadow of a very large, very clunky machine.

They panicked.

One got down to the ground near Nortrom, dragging him closer by the collar, wrapping his arm around the boy’s neck to hold him close as he drew a knife and held it threateningly, “You! Don’t you come any closer!” The edge drew lightly across Nortrom’s cheek, his head pulling away only to be blocked by the arm. He whimpered.

Rizzrack

Madini quickly overcomes her pain, the scattering coins calling to her to gather them from the floor. She does not turn her eyes to the men who beat the boy. preferring to remain ignorant of the pain she’s brought upon him. Instead, she picks up every last coin and slinks her way to the opposite side of the room past the crates and shelves beckoning to her sister to follow her out the window. Unknowing to her, Lijuni does not hear, too distracted by the panic, curious as to who may be outside. They sound familiar.

Within he could hear clattering, yelling, a screech, and the door shake before falling still. Rizzrack watches intently with held breath, focused as his suspicions pulled together and formed a narrative in his mind of what just went on behind that door. What other evidence could he need?

The boy fell through the door before him, battered and beaten. Following him to the ground were two men, recognized to be the bandits from before.

That is it. Overwhelmed by fury, Timbersaw lunges forward, sending metal claws over them and crushing through the wooden door and wall as if it were merely paper, a small demonstration of what he can do to the bandits with ease.

Timbersaw roars and the hand returns to trade it with the saw , but the blade hesitates at the verbal threat. The keen is silent, frozen in place by fear and rage. He can only stare , momentarily held back by his concern for the boy. It’s only then he realizes the damage already done to the poor child. Bound, blade to his face, eyes red from tears and blunt trauma, the sight causes Rizzrack’s blood to boil in his veins. It makes him absolutely sick. He hates himself for leaving the child behind. He takes in the sight of the bandits, and it takes him a good amount of restraint to not immediately throw a blade through their bodies at that very moment.

He hates them more.

Black smoke billows from the exhaust like dragon’s breath. Blades and saw teeth continue to whirl loudly, enough to cause discomfort to one’s hearing and down out most sounds to the keen. If he had heard the boy’s whimper, he would have completely lost it on the spot. Rizzrack falls silent, but everything in his face told them,

try me.

Nortromthesilencer

“Leave the kid behind, it’s not worth it!” Dashing out of the door way, the portly bandit cowers behind his comrades in fear of Rizzrack’s powerful display and revved up blades. The one holding Nortrom shakes his head, getting to his feet and dragging the boy along with him. Being shorter than the bandit, he’s forced up on his toes, struggling to keep up with the steps, breaths cut short by the arm around his neck.

“No. We gotta get back our money, and this is insurance. We drop the boy, no guarantee that freak won’t chase us and cut us down.” The Bandit tightened his grip and took some more slow steps back. Nortrom just softly sniffled, occasionally gulping air. That knife was close, too damned close. Both of the others looked at one another, not sure what to do, “You there! Turn off that machine or I carve him a new mouth!”

Breaking away from the others, one of the bandits stepped aside the house, attempting to shimmy out of Rizzrack’s view. From the splintered door he had grabbed a long piece of wood, thick and stable, and continued to act casually as he side stepped. Just trying to escape, nothing to see here, concentrate on the child… *WHAM!* When finally ignored, he lunged at the Timber-suit and slammed the wooden piece down against the main body. It left a scraped mark across the metal and wooden frame, but much greater damage was done to the makeshift club than Rizzrack’s pride and joy. This didn’t deter the bandit, who continued to whack and smack away at the suit in various places, intent on taking Rizzrack down.

Rizzrack

Timbersaw remains in place, focus never leaving the blade. He leans forward to follow as they drag Nortrom, the keen within fuming and muttering curses under his breath. They give a demand, and if it were any other situation, Rizzrack would have very likely just went after them, but any wrong move and… He doesn’t want to think about it, but he knows he won’t be able to live with himself if that happened. Hands tight on the lever, he takes a breath and prepares to try to negotiate.

“The machine stays on.” The bandit is stubborn, but Rizzrack himself refuses to budge. “You let him go, and I don’t kill you. How about that?”

Wait a second. Weren’t there thr-

CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK

Timbersaw’s top spins around to face the bandit. Claw raises high and swipes, but misses the take down. Claw readies again for another swing, but this time the keen gasps as a shadow begins to fall over him. The reactive armor is activating, and he can’t stop it. “No, no no! STOP!”

Finding no reason to ever need to design the automatic defense system with an emergency stop and only a simple locking mechanism, the dome continues to close. He scrambles first for the lock, but in a panic, he then leaps out of his seat and grasps the rim with his hands, but it’s a futile attempt. It closes, nearly slicing his fingers with the sharp teeth as he pulls away and is left with only small gaps to look from. He’s trapped.

Trapped. And now at the will of the bandits.

Timbersaw does not move. In fact, the engine ceases and armor stays shut for as long as the other bandit beats it.

“Okay! Okay! It’s off!” Frustration and fear wavers his voice. He’s desperate now. There’s little he can see, little he can do. He may as well be their second captive. “Let him go and I’ll give you all the gold I have. Please.” His pitiful pleas reverb beneath the metal dome. He pants and gasps. It’s getting hot in here.

Nortromthesilencer

Not only are the bandits confused, but Nortrom as well. Seeing the suit clam shut and Rizzrack suddenly acquiesce to their demands stops all parties watching on, wondering if this is some elaborate ruse or a technical error.

Wooden plank still in hand, the closest reacts with one last smack against the arm of the machine before pulling back slightly, looking to the others and shrugging.

“Just how much gold are we talkin’?” Machine now off, the tallest relaxes his grip slightly, arms lowering so that Nortrom can touch the ground better. The child gasps, catching his breath in wavering pants and soft sobs. Were he not tied he might be able to do something, to help in some way. Instead, he can barely move without falling over. How pitiful. Nortrom figures that if he was going to be abused no matter where he was, he would much rather it be back at the cantonment where he was familiar and sheltered.

“You actually trust that pink freak to do it?”

“Shuddap. As long as we get paid, and live, I don’t care who has the kid. A pack of cannibals could buy him for all I care.” More steps back, this time dragging Nortrom along instead of forcing him to hop. He didn’t trust that this wasn’t a trick by the keen, and would rather run the hell away. Too bad it was hard to run with the kid in tow. “If you got enough gold, leave it on the ground and back up. It better pay us even or no deal!”

Rizzrack

“O-okay, okay!”

He fumbles through the cramped confines of his suit. It feels so much smaller than usual. His eyes sting from the sweat that drops down. It keeps getting hotter. Hold yourself together, stay calm. He finds his gold and can only hope he  has enough. Please let it be enough.

The keen’s hands pat around the dome above him. It won’t budge open any time soon, and forcing it open will only keep him stuck longer like tugging at a finger trap. He starts to take the gold coins from the pouch, flicking them between the dome’s teeth and out to the ground. “H-here!” It’s a mess, like throwing corn to chickens. Once the pouch is empty, he continues to plead. The suit stays where it stands, off.

“That’s all I have!”

Nortromthesilencer

Motioning to the portly one, hands still fixed in place holding the child, the other frowns at how much of a burden this all was. Still hiding, the other didn’t move. No way was he getting closer to that– that– THING! With a resigned sigh, the closest rolled his eyes and threw down his plank of wood, going about collecting and counting the gold. Minutes passed under the hot sun, and then, “It’s more than we paid. Not a lot, but it’s something.”

The tallest nodded. “Fine, you have a deal, freak.” Pulling himself from around Nortrom’s neck, he let the kid get his own balance before taking the knife to his bindings. First the elbows, then the knees. Then the feet, and finally the hands. He held Nortrom with one hand by the arm, wondering if they could indeed trust that this Keen wouldn’t come after them once he had the kid back.

Internally, Nortrom’s mind was racing. His captor was hesitating and not letting go; Were they even going to free him, or was this all a show before forcing him to run off? More time ticked by, the standoff feeling as though it had gone on forever. His pulse raced, sweat collecting across his tunic and soaking into the thin fabric, nerves elevated to the small gusts of wind that passed. As his thoughts grew more frantic, he became more desperate. More seconds. More waiting. No. He wasn’t going to let them run off with him, damnit! He was stronger than that!

Twisting in place, the boy lifted the hand that held him to his face and bit down hard. The skin broke as he pulled away, bloody muscles and tendons ripping, gore gathering across Nortrom’s face. The pain forced a scream from the bandit, other hand dropping the knife to grab his injury. Nortrom ducked down to the ground to avoid any retaliation, scrambling to grab the knife as he skittered forward in the space between them and Rizzrack. While one bandit reeled in pain, another kept hiding, and the third approached fast.

Nortrom threw the knife.

He may not have been a mage. He may have failed casting any spells and been mocked incessantly for it, but what he lacked in arcane power he made up for in other studies and training. Nortrom didn’t have magic but he did have damned good aim. A bit too good…

The knife landed with a sickening crunch, blade embedded deep into the attacker’s forehead. It took some time for his body to connect with what was happening, frame lurching forward a few unstable steps, blood seeping from around the hilt and out of his nose, arms limply pulled at his sides. One step. Two steps. By the third his nervous system had caught up, the rest of his muscles going limp and sending him crashing to the ground. Dust puffed up where he landed, settling in messy piles across his clothing, clinging to the sanguine leakage from his face.

The adrenaline was dropping fast. Nortrom fell on his behind, kicking back away a couple of paces before freezing, eyes wide, only now realizing what he had just done. His jaw dropped. After everything that had just happened to him, and now this, the boy broke down and started to bawl.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack can only look helplessly from the gap of the armor, but even that granted the keen little vision of what goes on on outside. The bright light entering into the dark suit blinds him and he can only hope to listen. Scratching sounds, the click of currency, their acceptence. The keen sighs, trembling, anxious to know if they’ll follow through. Cutting sounds, it seems like it.

Then a scream.

His blood runs cold. What’s going on!? The sounds of a scuffle has the keen’s nose practically pressed through the small gap. What is happening? There’s a crack… a thud… silence…

Then sobbing.

Sobbing.

What did they do??

The suit twitches, claw fingers flex… then it moves.

Timbersaw charges forward, metal foot stomping down beside the child nearly crushing him, the other foot moving inches above and over his head before landing back down upon the skull of the fallen bandit with a gooey crunch. Blind rage guides the mecha to the gold-holding bandit slack-jawed by his partner’s demise. With a shriek his arms fly up in fear as the last thing he sees are metal claws closing in.

Timbersaw lifts the cretin by the head. There is no mercy, no second thought to his actions. He hangs the struggling body close and lets the midsection blades do the work. Blood spatters all around, showering the dry dust with the red rain it thirsts for. The earth is not the only thing bathed. That’s two down, one to go. Tossing away the shredded remains, Timbersaw swings the saw arm forward. He will FIND that last bandit. It detaches. Like a glowing disc from hell it whirs through the air and chews through the wooden shop, leaving a disaster only a tornado could match.

Lijuni never left. She only watched, She regret staying. The feline ducked, nearly missing a beheading. The other bandit was not so lucky. She scrambled and screeched, clawing and bounding for protection. The structure cracked and within moments it all fell. Crashing wood drowns out the screams until all that’s left is the buzzing of the sawblade. It returns to the arm it comes from, but the pilot is far from satisfied. Tearing through the wreckage, the limp body of the feline is salvaged. Lijuni is held up to the still-closed armor of the suit, but she is seen all the same.

“If it weren’t for  you, none of this would have happened at ALL!”

The first slam.

Her body is flung back down, wheezed gasps unheard beneath the cracking and splintering debris. Her body rises again to meet her reflection in the blood that coats the armored dome.

“N-e’eh, pl-” “Do you know WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?” Her body is flung down again. Spears of wood pierce her body, puncturing lungs, stabbing organs. She is a fighter, but her struggles to escape the grip are too weak and meaningless. She rises again, and falls again, rises, falls… the pain grows distant, the sky dark…

Saws and teeth come to a halt. Timbersaw is motionless, painted with blood and holding a fur bag of broken bones. The claws open, releasing the corpse  and only then does the armor finally begin to open. Rizzrack is revealed. Condensation drips from within and back onto his dry skin. His usually pink-tipped nose and ears are flushed a vibrant red. His pupils were dilated, quick to contract from the bright light. Delirious, he slumps over the dashboard, grasping at something unseen. Slowly coming to his senses, he struggles out of the suit, practically dropping to the ground into the mess of feline blood.

….

“I’m so sorry.”

Rizzrack looks down to the bloody boy. With shuddering breathe he can only whisper out one last apology before dropping to his knees and wailing into his palms.

Nortromthesilencer

The carnage was all around him, physically inescapable. Nortrom remained kneeling on the ground, tears filling his eyes but not sobbing any longer. He had cried himself out, throat raw, blood drying over his jaw and from his nose. Where he was punched his eye was swollen half shut, bruised, and very much out of place with the vacant wide eyed stare that looked onward. Not at the blood, the death, or the destruction, but past it.

The boy may have been there, on the ground, in the middle of it all, but he wasn’t there mentally, retreated inwards and dissociating from it all, a quiet place, a silent place. He came here often to escape the pain and neglect, yet as of this point he knew not where he would go. The adult knew. The adult understood. The child, not so much.

He didn’t hear Rizzrack coming to his side, the Keen’s tears, or the gradual crashing of the building as it’s remaining supports give out. No, he heard nothing. It was peaceful here, not thinking about the fact he had just murdered someone. It was silent, there were no bodies. There was no blood. There was only himself, alone.

A familiar place. His place.

Rizzrack

The keen rocks back and forth. Between gasps and sobs he cried his mantra. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry” Pulling his hands away from his face, he looks back up to the boy. His state, it’s familiar. Not something he’s seen, but felt. Actually, it’s not even a feeling. It’s an absence of it, a numbness. When everything becomes too much to take in. When you’ve realized your world’s come crashing down, reduced to a small workshop crushed beneath the weight of vines and roots, and life as you know it is gone… You end up looking like that.

Destroyed. Traumatized.

Another sob and his heart goes out to the boy. Rizzrack drags his knees as he brings himself closer to the child. Slowly but without hesitation he brings his arms to embrace the child’s shoulders. At least he doesn’t have to be alone. Don’t let him be alone. His touch is gentle. Hands pet the child’s back, finding no other way to bring comfort.

When was the last time he cried like this? Not too long ago,after learning of the pain Silencer went through in his childhood… Why must the world be cruel to such youth?But something occurs to the keen that did not before. He slowly pulls away from the boy and looks to his eye. A familiar blue… His hair raven black…and that place…

Hazhadal Barrens. Rizzrack knew he recognized that name. That’s where the Silencer was raised with a strict upbringing. An upbringing that could cause a child to be so meek, so disciplined.

His breath is shallow, a result of being absorbed and lost within his thoughts. He snaps out of it, once again facing the boy before him. Eyeing his features, a theory burns in his mind, a crazy one he can’t ignore.

Is it possible?

The voice is soft, unsure, but desperate to know.

…

“Nortrom?”

Nortromthesilencer

Hearing that name snapped the boy out of his trance with a jolt. He gasped, breathing so shallow before and now his lungs craving, no, demanding to be filled. He looked about, again seeing the vile display before him, this time noting the keen. Was it his voice? Pushing himself up more with his hands, the boy looked at Rizzrack with fear and fought the urge to back away. To run.

“Ho–How… How do you know my…?” Was knowing who he was the cause of all of this? Trust was in short supply, and Nortrom didn’t wish to give away what he had left so easily. Not again.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack is… He’s not sure what to think. He really wasn’t expecting his thoughts to be confirmed, and now here he is with this kid who might just be the Silencer. How?

He might sound crazy, maybe he is. His hands grasp the boy’s shoulders. “Nortrom, I… This is so…” He take a breath and sighs, letting go of the boy so that his hands may instead go to his head while he tries to make sense of things. “I know your name because… because you look like a frie-… someone I know.” His arms fall back to his sides, still finding the thought to be utterly ridiculous. “You just reminded me of him. Hah, I didn’t think I’d be seeing the Silencer again in any way. I had to go away. Do you know why? Because I did something terrible to him. Ahaha…”

A twisted, pained smile as he whispered that end to himself. The boy doesn’t need to know any more horrors. “Because I thought I was doing something right. And now? I only wanted you safe.” His voice trails off in a whimper but the keen is determined to keep himself together.

Nortromthesilencer

Now he was both terrified and even more confused. Nortrom pushed back, refusing Rizzrack’s attempted comfort and placing a short gap between them. Able to take in the sights without being completely lost, he took a deep breath and got to his feet. It smelt disgusting, burnt, dusty, and… familiar. It still smelt familiar.

Turning his back to the keen, he looked at the body of the man he killed. Now crushed, the initial image of a knife sticking out from his skull remained. Nortrom did that. It would be dishonorable to the man, to the event, if he denied that fact. Nortrom knew he couldn’t hide from what had happened, and now given some time to process it, he didn’t want to.

“Nortrom. My name is Nortrom, of Aeol Drias,” Yes the Keen knew this now, but it felt more formal to give an actual introduction when before he denied to give his name. After all of this, there was no point in protecting his identity, “And I am a murderer.” He stood up straight, strong, defiant. Nortrom took a swiveling step and faced Rizzrack head on, wiping the blood and tears from his face.

“I did it to protect myself. That doesn’t make me a bad person, does it?”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack reached out, afraid to lose him again. But the child did not run. He stands tall and faces the reality about him. The keen looks up at Nortrom, unseeing of it. He no longer sees an innocent child, and his statement sends a chill down his spine. On his knees he pleads for him to renounce his statement. “No, don’t say that!“ He stammers through his horror.

“Killing monsters isn’t murder. You’re not a bad person.”

The grim surroundings burn into the keen like glares from a damning crowd. He knows what he did, but refuses to believe it is murder. He never murdered anyone. He never will.

Nortromthesilencer

While facing reality may have been his intent, Nortrom still found himself paralyzed by it all the more he thought on it. Standing there, looking at the keen, the blood, the ground, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Why did you come back?” It looked so very surreal, this young boy unflinching as death and decay rotted the very air around them, holding tight in a transfixing gaze his ability to move. The child huffed, lifting his tunic from his belt to continue to wipe his face. It stung.

“Thank you though. I’m sorry I doubted you; I just wanted to go home.” Another small sniffle. Nortrom forced his eyes shut and took several deep breaths. He couldn’t allow himself to cry any more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Rizzrack

“I came back because I was-” His explanation is interrupted by the thanks, and Rizzrack finds it unneeded to restart and instead let Nortrom speak. “Don’t apologize.” He feels he should be one the doing that. He made the boy doubt, he made the boy afraid, he left the boy behind against his own intuition. This was more his fault than anyone else’s. Here comes the guilt again. Well, it never left in the first place. It always lingered, and now it’s a new wound over a scab.

Rizzrack stands to his feet. His knees wobble, as earlier’s rampage and the heat of the day leaves him exhausted and burnt out. He wants nothing more than to ease the boy, tell him it’s alright, but Nortrom seems to be handling it well on his own. A feat that awes the keen. “Like you yourself said, you were only  protecting yourself. Now let’s get out of here.”  Finding nothing else to say, he turns away back towards his suit and makes what feels to be a long walk. His eyes stay straight ahead and above the wreckage, but do what he may to avoid the sight, he can’t avoid the blood upon the Timbersaw.

Rizzrack returns, this time careful to avoid stepping in head gore.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, but I”ll be honest. I’m afraid. I don’t want to be… I don’t want you to be alone.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom flinches as the timbersuit walked up to him. Could he really trust this keen? Yes they returned and seemed very much willing to help, but they also murdered and proved to be lost. He sighed. Not like he could judge, the blood was on his hands too.

Rubbing his wrists where the ropes cut his skin raw and red, the boy looked down. In an effort to not cry again, he focused on everything else he was feeling instead, mindful of what was going on in his body. The pain of the rope burns, the torn corners of his mouth where the cloth had been cleaved tight, the bruised eye that stung with every blink, and the deep rumble in his gut.

“I’m hungry.”

Nortrom looked up at Rizzrack as he pilot the suit, showing his intent to follow the keen. It was obvious he wasn’t as stable as he let on, the inner turmoil fighting as he pushed it back.

“Can we leave? I don’t want to stay here any longer, sir.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack looks down to the boy just as exhausted as he. “Yes.” He wipes his glove across his face, smearing dirt with the thin film of sweat he can still manage to produce. It feels as if steam is blowing from his ears. Any more longer out here and there could be many more consequences to follow. They need water. They need food. There is a river  to the north from where Rizzrack had traveled from and did not expect to be traveling back through any time soon. It was not very far from the Silencer’s home and at that point the keen realizes that’s the home he needs to go to.

“Don’t panic. I’m going to carry you.”

Quite suddenly the claw comes down. It does not grab the boy roughly, it just merely nudges him onto the flat of the saw blade with unmoving teeth. Parallel to the Timbersaw’s mid-drift it acts as a makeshift bench. Something similar to what it did not too long ago. Once adjusted, the suit begins its walk.

“Now let’s get out of here.”

The boy may only notice once they leave the town that they aren’t exactly going west towards the supposed location of the Hazhadal Barrens. The keen suspects this. “I will take you home, I promise that. But…” he sighs, licking his lips and finding himself to be quite parched. “But we need to get to the closest river, and that’s thirty miles north of here… fifty kilometers… quite a ways.”

The suit speed picks up speed and could quite easily match the pace of a jogging human, maybe even surpass it. Even so, at that rate it will take at the very least a couple of hours to reach the destination. Rizzrack can only hope that despite the bumpy ride, perhaps the boy could find a moment of rest.

At least the light breeze is somewhat soothing.

Nortromthesilencer

Don’t panic? This machine of death and blades, so close and now picking him up, and the Keen tells him not to panic? The look on Nortrom’s face betrays his previously calm demeanor, hands gripping white knuckled to the claw and eyes staring at the previously spinning blades. Even sitting down the boy is tense, knowing what this damned machine was capable of now. It wasn’t so much awe inspiring any more as it was terrifying.

“That’s quite a detour…” One last look back before leaving that hellish scene behind, the scene of victim-hood. That scene of the crime; Many crimes. Nortrom leaned back against the body of the suit, his head above the lip where the control panel was. He made sure not to let his head lull in Rizzrack’s way as they traveled. Feeling exausted, the boy yawned. He knew sleep wasn’t an option, nerves still on edge, no matter now tired he was.

“Um… Could I ask you a question sir? Why– Er, No… Do most people out here try to take advantage of others?” That wasn’t the greatest wording, especially for Nortrom. He hummed, thinking of a better way to put his thoughts, “Let me try again: What do I keep doing wrong so that everyone wants to hurt me? This can’t be normal.”

Rizzrack

It was quiet for a while. Rizzrack finding it hard to initiate any small talk. He didn’t have the energy or breath to talk. The boy wants an answer however. “Because they’re evil monsters.” The boy reworded his question and Rizzrack feels obligated to try and give a more meaningful answer.

“You’re right. It’s not normal. Sometimes bad things happen to us. On purpose or on accident, but no matter how it happens, there’s a why, there’s always a reason. That reason isn’t you, but it is you. Does that make sense?” He pauses to think of a better way to express the thought. “There are people who only want to gain things for themselves. They see their victim and think to themselves ‘how can I abuse this innocent being to my own advantage?’ They lure you in with promises of love, promises of protection. Then they slowly begin to take from you while fooling you into believing it’s for a good cause. Then when you begin to doubt their kindness, they twist your words on you and make you out to be wrong. They take more and more until the blood loss leaves you dizzy and weak, then when there’s nothing left to be gained of you, they try to kill you because you’re worthless to them! Hahah! Isn’t that something??”

Throughout the speech his voice gradually grew in volume. So caught up was he within his own memories and experiences that the end of it all, he was cackling breathlessly. Taking a moment to recover, he makes a small apology and blames it on the heat.

“You can’t trust everyone. Sometimes you can only trust yourself, and that’s where your intuition comes in. I don’t always listen to mine, and look what happens, bad things happen.”

Nortromthesilencer

He listens intently to the rant, legs stretched out at an angle down the blade. Occasionally the boy nods, understanding, feeling that he’s heard a very similar speech some time before.

“My intuition,” he idly commented at the end, looking up at the sky above, “is that you’re not a bad person despite all of this. You don’t know me but you want to help. I don’t know you but even if you’re kinda strange, you seem nice.”

Nicer than most, anyways. Nicer than the other children. Nicer than his teachers. Nicer than those cat people or bandits. Nortrom didn’t know how to word it, or what to say due to a real lack of experience of people being nice to him, but he appreciated it all the same.

“It’s getting darker, sir. How much longer do you think until the sun sets?”

Rizzrack

“Oh!” He nearly squeaks, surprised.  “I’m touched… I think.”

It’s a compliment that calms him from working himself up by his own thoughts. At least the boy is honest, and Rizzrack is once again reminded of who this child really is. There is sadness, but along with it there is a little more appreciation for the Silencer.

The keen remains quiet until the boy speaks up again. “Hmm?” He wasn’t aware of it until it’s pointed out. Based on how much lower the sun is, it must be the start of evening. It felt like only minutes ago it was the afternoon. “Er….”

It’s been so long since he last used a clock. For years and years the ability to tell time never relied on a visual of marks or numbers, but instead on a feeling and how long it took to perform certain tasks or to travel from one place to another. He knew they would reach the river and clean up with plenty of time to spare before the sun vanished. The keen hums and glances at the odometer on his dashboard. “I would say two hours, give or take.”

They had already traveled far enough that Rizzrack knew that they were getting close. The change of the landscape from mostly dry dirt and scare vegetation to much more scattered green confirmed those feelings. Metal feet kick through small shrubs as they stop at the edge of water.

Beautiful, cool, flowing water.

Lowering the blade so that the boy may get down easily, Rizzrack himself lacks the patience to deny his tongue of water any longer. Crawling down from his suit as fast as he can, he tosses aside his helmet and practically goes face first into the river.

blblbblbl

He raises his head and dunks it repeatedly, alternating between gasps of breath and gulps of water. Finally satisfied he pulls back out of the river to catch his breath while slinging off his gloves so that he could wipe water and dirt from his face.

“Aaah…” He looks back to the kid. He nearly forgot about him. “Hey. Nortrom, come. Get a drink. Then let’s get you cleaned up, you’re a mess.”

Nortromthesilencer

The air feels lighter, more humid, as they get closer. The boy remains awake in silent contemplation, the sights and sounds all new to him and something to enjoy. It’s a much needed calming after such a stressful afternoon.

Nortrom hops off the blade at a much more leisure pace than Rizzrack, walking to the water’s edge. Taking his his boots and leg wrappings off, the boy sits on an elevated rock on the bank and dips his toes in. The kiss of cold water made him gasp in surprise, having to try again little by little until he got used to the feeling. As he let his feet splash, Nortrom bent forward and washed his hands before taking some water in them, cupping it to his face and enjoying the crisp taste.

Spending some time just watching, drinking, and waiting, he finally could forget all about what had happened and instead focus on what was happening. He was lost, he didn’t know how he got here, and he didn’t know how to get back. Nortrom sighed, leaning forward again to stare at his reflection. There was blood on his face still, eye discoloured and puffy, and something else, something stirring in his memories…

“Mirror…” The word was said without thought, something about it felt memorable, the tug of recollection just out of reach, “A mirror! I remember a mirror, that’s how I got here!” Excitement bounced his feet, splashing away the reflection as he turned to grin at Rizzrack with a uncharacteristic look of elation. He was proud that he remembered something, even if it was so little. But what else?

“I– I remember a mirror. Something happened, and I woke up near where you found me.” Nortrom scrunched his face and grunted, a childlike gesture of wracking his brain for more clues, “Hmmgh… I can’t remember why though…”

Rizzrack

Giving the boy his personal space to care for himself, Rizzrack continued to clean his face and go for another drink. This time he cups his hands to bring water to his mouth instead of dunking his head to drink. Nortrom’s enthusiastic exclamation surprises him and the keen momentarily splutters and coughs, fearing for just a brief moment that the boy got hurt.

He looks to him. “Hem.. M-mirror?” he squeaks, still clearing his throat around the word. Another cough. “Some sort of magic mirror?” he doesn’t know much about the Silencer, even less about him as a child, but Rizzrack does know based on their little mishap with a hexing staff that Nortrom can have unexpected results with enchanted objects. “Can you remember where the mirror was? Or if there were any people?”

Nortromthesilencer

More scrunching of the face, it looking very comical with his already injured face. Becoming frustrated by the fact nothing was coming to him, the boy pouted. “I don’t know. Let me think.”

Nortrom slips his shirt off, dunking it in the water and using it to clean himself off. Taking a smooth rock from the water, he then starts to clean the blood and dirt from his shirt with it, back and forth, a typical laundry routine.

“Hm… I remember wooden walls.” That detail me have been mundane to most, but Nortrom was raised in a cantonment built mostly of sandstone and granite, so pure wooden walls like that of a cabin would stand out to the child, “It was quiet. I don’t… No, I don’t recall any voices.”

His head was starting to hurt thinking so hard about this, and he imitated the Keen by dunking his head under the water a few times. Up and drying himself off, the child spoke under his breath, “Maybe I actually managed to cast a spell…?”

Rizzrack

A spell? The keen lets out a few chuckles. “Hah, Nortrom, you cast a sp-” He stops himself to rethink his words. Adult Nortrom is about as magically gifted as Rizzrack himself. But just because that’s a fact the keen is aware of, he shouldn’t talk down the kid. He doesn’t know. “It’s.. it’s possible! It sounds like you’re really close to solving this mystery.” Finding it shameful to gaze at people bathing (as he himself would dislike being watched), Rizzrack grabs his helmet and turns his eyes down to the water to take care of getting something to eat. Pecking under rocks with his fingers, he begins fishing out crawfish and tossing them into his bucket helm.

“So if it was a spell, what do you think it was for?”

Nortromthesilencer

Even though Rizzrack cut off his jab mid-word, Nortrom heard it, and knew full well what he was going to say. At that moment he didn’t wonder why Rizzrack would have known he had issues with casting, but instead remembered every other time he was mocked, doubted, jeered at, and belittled for being unable to use magic. The boy shrunk in his own frame, going silent. Of course it was ridiculous to think he could have ever cast something.

He didn’t answer the Keen’s other question, instead silently finishing cleaning himself off without a word or change of expression. What a foolish thought. Casting a spell. You? In your dreams. The boy’s mirthful grin was gone. He knew better.

Rizzrack

As Rizzrack was not looking directly at the boy, he only thought the silence was due to him being deep in thought. He continues digging through the bed, waiting for an answer. But the silence is unusually long. The child’s chatter is gone. Realizing that his laughter was probably the biggest tell-tale of it, he makes another attempt to salvage the moment. “Whatever the spell was, it definitely did something…?”

It finally dawns on him that the damage was done and once again he is acquainted with regret and guilt. Just be quiet Rizzrack you’ll just make things worse. After collecting a few of the little snappy critters, he sifts water in and out of the helmet to get rid of any mud they may have been covered in.

Silence. Silence. Silence.

He thinks about it, and thinks about it. Children can be cruel too.

Uncommon were the days where he as a child was able to join the other young keen on the streets. Showing off their toys, bragging about inventions their mothers may have created and holding contests about who’s father was smarter.

“My dad can count all the sand grains on the beach!” “Oh yeah? MY dad can count all the stars in space!!” “And Rizzrack’s dad can count all the rocks on his shovel!” “HEY!”

It may have been in jest, but the mere fact that his father grew up an orphan working the mines was far from brag-worthy. In fact, it was the equivalent of amounting to nothing. No family trade to continue, no master to be an apprentice to. An uneducated fool to many of the neighbors, but Rizzrack knew his father was wise in his own way.

Silence still.

“Nortrom.” Rizzrack sets the helm aside and wades over to the boy. “Look, you… You may not see it, but you are special. You’re terrible with magic. It’s not because of you… but it’s also because of you. How do I go about explaining this? Okay, I don’t get magic either. Not everyone does. That’s why I have technology. We find our strength through weakness. And you, you have something, something FAR more amazing that I’ve never seen come from anyone else! The strength you will find within you is just… It’s beyond my comprehension, really.” The keen sighs. “I”m sorry I laughed it’s just… I know you. The older you. And honestly? I‘m jealous. You’re smarter than me, stronger than me, taller than me… You’re the Silencer.”

Nortromthesilencer

Perhaps it was stress, built up and festering under the skin, a disgusting wound just waiting to burst. Perhaps it was from hunger. Perhaps he was tired. Most likely all three, but Nortrom remained silent only this time with his shoulders occasionally twitching. A few more seconds and his breaths could be heard, a quiet sniffle giving away the fact that yes, he was crying.

“What are you even talking about??” large blue eyes looked at the Keen now, wet and red, a slow draw of tears trailing down his cheeks as he accusingly store at the keen, “How do you know me?!? How do you know all this!?” Nortrom lurched forward, falling closer to Rizzrack and supporting himself up with his hands to lay in a crawling position on the stony ground. He looked up, trembling, voice wavering in panicked breaths, “What do you mean you know me?”

None of this made sense. Being here in the first place, barely remembering what had happened before, the Keen’s familiarity with name his lack of spellmanship, and now saying that they knew him as an adult? How? He was here, 10 years old, and that was the truth. How could anyone know him in another instance of time? What was even going on?

Nortrom grabbed his own head, burrying his eyes in his palms and keeling.

“I want to go home!”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack didn’t know how the boy would react, but he didn’t imagine it to be like this. This isn’t want he wanted. Trying not to panic, he desperately pats the air down. “C-calm down! Please don’t cry I’m just-This is hard to explain but I ca-” Seeing the boy fall, he follows down onto a knee. His hands are out but he does not touch the boy in fear of getting another bad reaction from it. It hurt Rizzrack to see this. He can’t do anything right for him. Nothing at all. The hurt, the confusion, the frustration. Oh, the frustration. He’s getting tired, and his patience suddenly vanishes as he hits the bottom of the pity bucket. Sympathy drains. He would never imagine himself to be this way with youth, yet here he goes.

He grabs the  boy’s shoulders and roughly pushes him back to sit on his heels. His own tear filled eyes looked into the boy’s as he yells out in exasperation.

“Grow up!”

Nortromthesilencer

Panic sets in, a response to protect himself when expecting to be harmed, hit, or abused in some way. He’s felt it all too many times before, the loss of patience of another before they lashed out and took out their frustrations and stress on him. Nortrom forcefully shoved the keen away and sprung to his feet, “Get away from me!”

Jumping to his feet and forgetting about what had been removed previously, shoes, wraps, and tunic, the boy puts a few feet distance between him and Rizzrack. “Why? Because you know me as a grown up? Because I’m obviously a useless burden like this?!?” He looks hurt, angry, sad, and a mixture of so many feelings that even Nortrom doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

Gritting his teeth, he turns and runs away from Rizzrack and into the brush, shouting out one last thing, “FINE!”

The Keen wanted him to grow up? Fine, grown up’s don’t need help. Nortrom kept running, the river long past and the greenery getting thicker. His feet stung from the thistles and stones, and his lungs were heaving as he went. The boy wasn’t sure for how long he kept going, only knowing that he wasn’t going to stop until he couldn’t move any longer. Stupid Mirror. Stupid Keen. Stupid self… Mostly that last one, this was all his fault and he knew it.

Tripping over a bump in the ground from his feet growing numb, the boy lands hard and rolls, stopping on his side. He doesn’t move, instead gripping tight to his sides as he heaves and gasps for air from running for so long. The efforts made to wash himself were all but wasted now, mud caking up and down his body and trousers, but Nortrom didn’t care. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered, he didn’t matter.

Grow up, the boy thought bitterly, I wish I could. Then maybe people wouldn’t hurt me.

Rizzrack

He didn’t expect the boy to retaliate. Rizzrack fell back and submerged. The keen isn’t fond of water, not used to frequently bathing and when he did he was reluctant to ever go underwater. He flails and splashes about before finally sitting up in the shallow water. He gasps, frantically brushing water from his face and nose until he finally calms and catches his breath. That’s when he sees the boy is gone and a nice trail of wet footprints telling of where he ran off to.

He wanted to yell out, he wanted to retort and call him out for being so childish. Rizzrack slaps down the water angrily with his hands. Fine! I don’t care! I just wanted to help! He’s going to have to accept that he won’t ever become mage! Brat!! The keen rises from the water and steps out of the river. Everything is dripping as he never bothered to take anything but the gloves off. He walks past the boy’s belongings and goes over to his helmet to angrily place it on his head.

A shower of water and sharp pinchers greets him. He slaps the shellfish away, finding any feeling of hunger to have vanished as he goes to retrieve his gloves, slipping one after the other and then flapping about as he bitched and moaned under breath.

“I tried to apologize! I tried to help! I saved him! Ungrateful!” No longer did he view Nortrom as the child he is now, but instead saw him as the man he knows he is. “I’m telling him the truth! I’m being honest! I did everything I could for him! Why… why when I was his age, I didn’t have anyone! It was just me! And… and  you!” He points to the Timbersuit off by the shrubs. It lowly purrs, saying nothing. “I tried to give him what I didn’t have! I tried to care for him! I tried to help him! I did it all to no benefit for myself! What… what did I do wrong!?” He paces about, palms tapping his forehead as he wracked his brain for an answer.

He treated him like someone he wasn’t. Silencer is who he could become, but isn’t who he already is. He is just a child, and although he has so much still to learn about the world, he wasn’t ready for all of that to hit him in one moment. It was too much. The cruelty of strangers wasn’t just a lesson taught to young Nortrom by the bandits alone. Rizzrack is just as guilty as harming him, and now the keen thinks he knows where he went wrong.

Rizzrack wished he never said his name. Rizzrack wished he never looked into his eyes. He wished he never left the boy behind, that he never went into that town, that the container of fuel never fell and broke. So many things. So many regrets. Sobbing at the edge of a river and feeling regret doesn’t do anything, however. He looks over to Nortrom’s abandoned clothing. His heart aches. He cares, and he wishes he didn’t.

Fabric and shoes are bundled up and tossed into the suit. Rizzrack follows and heavy metal steps crunch through the brush and out into the dusk-painted landscape. As much as he regret first saying the name, he knew he had to call it out. “Nortrom!” He went so long calling him by Silencer out of spite ever since the man took offense to being called ‘Nortie’.  Ever since then, keeping the relationship as something impersonal and unfriendly to convince Rizzrack to keep any fond feelings or positive thoughts out of the picture was the only reason he persisted. It didn’t work for very long.

“Nortrom!!” The wet footprints were gone now, having vanished into the dry earth some distance back. Rizzrack has no idea where he may have run, and can only hope he kept to one direction. Maybe the boy had no idea where he wanted to go. Maybe he just wanted to get away. The blood crusted suit continues on, the pilot desperately still crying out to the boy.

Nortromthesilencer

One the ground, wet, muddy, and sore, Nortrom is quick to learn just how cold it is outside without shoes or a shirt. His grip on his sides tightens and he curls up, crying becoming nothing more than a pathetic whimper and sniffle. He doesn’t hear the calls at first, and when the first hint of his name is carried on the wind the boy cringes. Maybe if he stays quiet he’ll be left alone. Maybe if he stays here he’ll just disappear and no one will miss him. The sad oddity of a 10 year old thinking about his own death and wanting to die was lost on Nortrom, too caught up in self hate. They said he was a burden, so why would they care if he vanished?

Rizzrack didn’t relent. The voice got louder, and Nortrom knew he was getting closer. Nortrom groaned and rolled on to his back, arms splayed out, legs apart, a carpet of flesh and mud on the ground. Maybe if he was lucky that giant robot saw thing would step on him and crush him, putting an end to this.

Silencer. What a joke. He was probably mocking me for failing as a mage, who would call someone ‘silencer’ anyways?

Rizzrack

The ground crunches beneath every step the suit takes until it comes to a halt. The keen is silent, making out the form of the boy laying upon the earth in the dim glow of the evening. Lucky thing, for if he looked any smaller, likely wouldn’t have seen him. With a shuddering breath the keen is relieved. He shuts off his suit. It’s silent, save for the soft chirping of crickets, the gentle breeze through blades of grass and the light brush of feet across the ground. A short figure stands besides the boy with arms full.

“You… you left your clothes. It’s cold out here at night. You’ll need these.”

Nortromthesilencer

Drat, his plan was foiled. Nortrom rolls on to the opposite side of the keen and culls up defiantly, “Good. Maybe I’ll freeze out here.” A few seconds pass, and guilt eats at the boy, so used to obeying authority and not protesting. He rolls back again, this time to face the keen, “… Thank you, sir.” It sounded soft and reluctant, but Nortrom couldn’t bring himself to be any more of a dick to the closest thing to an adult around here.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack made no move but to only look down upon the boy and sigh. He could only wait. His brows creased, expression like a father who patiently waits for his toddler to grow tired of pouting. It’s quick, and he hands the articles over one by one as they’re placed back on. “You really don’t have to call me sir. You can just call me Rizzrack.” Handing over the last piece, he sits on the ground across the patch and faces Nortrom. His breath shudders, signifying that he too had got done crying as well not too long ago.

This is a quite familiar setting.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have lost my patience.” His voice cracks somewhere in there, so he attempts to speak softer. “I’m just a crazy little keen who said a whole lot of things you didn’t need to hear or know. If I were in your place I would have been just as scared. Maybe more.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom was ashamed of losing control like that, and hid his eyes from the keen even after getting dressed. He sits cross legged, head cast downward, hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry for acting immature, si— er, Rizzrack.” About now would be the time he would be hit, yelled at, and locked away for disobeying and being beligerant, yet Nortrom for once in his life assumes that won’t be the case. He dips his head even further, an apologetic gesture, a pathetic gesture.

“I’ve caused you nothing but trouble. I don’t know what’s going on, or why, but I do know that if this were a test I’ve failed terribly.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack remains quiet, hesitant and unsure of just what to say without it being some other dumb utterance that could upset the boy again. It’s surprisingly hard to comfort someone, to be the mature support that a child needs when he himself is just as troubled. “Well, if there has to be someone who failed today, it’s me, not you. I’ve failed.” He sighs, stressed and worried the boy may still be fearful of him and his intentions. “But I can’t give up despite that.” Rizzrack looks to the child, eyes pleading, voice sincere. “Can you trust me to take you home? Believe me when I promise you to take you where you belong.”

Nortromthesilencer

He’s hesitant to trust anyone, always have been always will be. Now it’s even harder, but as the boy rises to his feet he nods. Hunger be damned, Nortrom was used to going nights without food as punishment, and he could handle it.

“I’ll accept, as I have nothing else to rely on.” Did he trust Rizzrack? No, not really. Was there any better alternative? Also no. It was one of those cases where the boy may as well go with the flow and accept things for how they are.

Looking even worse for wear now than before, albeit with less blood and more mud, the boy shivered. Night had set upon them fast, and with it the creeping shadows grew ominous. “I’ll follow your lead, s– Rizzrack.” Old habits are hard to break.

Rizzrack

There is another sigh of relief from the keen. He gets up and does his best to brush away the clumps of dirt that stuck to his bottom and legs. He gets into the machine and it starts up again, familiar deep purr drowning out the songs of nocturnal insects. Rizzrack knows they still have quite a bit more traveling to do along the river until he’s back to familiar lands. He wants to get there has fast as possible , so just like before the timbersuit guides the boy to sit on the unspinning saw like a seat and begins the trip back north again.

The Timbersuit speaks in place for Rizzrack as it steps along the river following a thin trail nearly lost to the darkness of night. Rumbles, clanks and the occasional squeak of a joint fill in for ramblings and gripes of the keen who would normally jump at the opportunity to  rant. Instead he is silent. He’s exhausted. Physically. Socially. So used to only having to worry about himself, Rizzrack is left running on empty. The thought of finally being alone is a very pleasing one.

The darkness of night settled long ago. Nothing but the stars and waxing moon light the field around them. There is more grass, full and green with scattered tree stumps across the plains and hills. Some spots of trees that were spared from being cut speckle a portion of hills that a few homes reside on. It’s all familiar even under the mysterious visage of darkness, and the keen finally mutters. “Almost there.” Words exhaled as if he  were bearing a heavy load. He eyes in the distance a familiar cabin far from any other and knows that it is only a moment longer until he walks up the path to that door once again.

Nortromthesilencer

Despite all of his efforts, Nortrom can’t help but fall asleep as they travel. The hum of the timber suit, the hunger in his gut, the pain of wrists rubbed raw from rope and other injuries, the cool evening air: It all leads to the boy curling up on his side atop the flat of the blade and slumbering.

Up the mountain the suit plodded on, the pathway well groomed and maintained for ease of travel. Bordered by tall trees and ample brush for wildlife to hide, soft sounds of crickets and nocturnal creatures occasionally break the silence of the night. Soon a familiar stone fence pushed back the foliage, leading the rest of the way up to the clearing where Nortrom’s lodge resides, nestled on the cliff overlooking a small village.

It’s still, with no sign of the owner for very obvious reasons. Only the timbersuit disturbs this place, and were it not for the child in his possession there would be no indication that anything was amiss.

Rizzrack

They made it.

Timbersuit slightly bowed, the engine rumbles to a halt and the driver climbs down tiredly, careful not to startle the boy yet from his rest. Rizzrack approaches the door. It’s dark, but patting around looking for the lock and handle causes it to budge, telling that the door was left open. Pushed wider, the keen steps in to inspect the room. He sees no obvious signs that the place has been invaded from what he can make out in the darkness. No risk of getting jumped. Good. Door propped open, Rizzrack turns to the sleeping boy.

“Okay.” He readies himself, takes in a deep breath and exhales, and as gentle as a keen a tad smaller than a ten year old can, he scoops  his arms beneath shoulders and knees and lifts him from the saw. Oh boy. Maneuvering his way in, he carries Nortrom over to the couch he last saw the man reclining against. He places him down and carefully pulls away. Whew. Such a good couch.

Rubbing the small of his back, the keen looks around. Of course there isn’t much one can see in the dark. Remembering a lantern nearby, he searches for it, finding it close to the door along with some matches.

Now with a portable light, he closes the door and turns his attention to the kitchen for some food. Having calmed his nerves during the travel, he  finds himself quite famished. He can imagine Nortrom will be as well as soon as he awakes.

Nortromthesilencer

The boy stirs once on the couch, the awkward angle of being carried by a small Keen more than enough to awaken him. He yawns, groggy, and stretches with a groan.

Nothing is out of place on the main floor, even if the boy looking around doesn’t know it. Tidy as can be, the main room and kitchen looked barely lived in, but completely free of dust and cobwebs. Nortrom gets up and stretches again, turning to Rizzrack with half lidded, sleepy eyes, “Is this your home?”

His eyes trace ever wall and angle. There is something oddly familiar about this place…

Rizzrack

Rizzrack rummages around through drawers and cabinets, tracking flecks of dirt across the floor. It can be comparable to a maze for the keen, coming across assorted kitchen ware instead of anything edible. Finally understanding the organization of things, he’s managed to gather a bowl with an assortment of fruit, seeds and strips of jerky.

The voice slightly startles him, and he panics at the question. “It’s y-… No, not exactly. But-” The keen hopes that being honest is the right thing. He walks over, lantern in one hand, bowl in the other. “I don’t think there would be any objections to me making myself home. As long as I keep the place tidy.” So much for keeping the floor clean. Rizzrack hands the bowl over to Nortrom before picking out a strip of meat for himself. He glances about chewing, and it’s then he realizes… He’s gotta go. Despite being so thirsty, he drank enough water to make it through him.

“Eat as much as you want. I’ve gotta take care of business really quick. I’ll be back, don’t worry.” Placing the lantern down so that Nortrom wouldn’t be left in the dark, Rizzrack steps outside to find a suitable spot to relieve himself in.

Nortromthesilencer

Food! Sweet, glorious, nourishing food! Nortrom is more than happy to begin to eat, his resolve of ignoring hunger gone the moment he smells the dried meats and other goodies. Manners are out the window, and the boy stuffs a large apple in his mouth and bites down greedily. He nods at Rizzrack, still remembering to not talk with his mouth full at least.

The small apple was no match for Nortrom’s mighty jaws. Taking a handful of seeds and a strip of meat, he looks curiously at the home. If this wasn’t Rizzrack’s home, than who was the owner and why were they gone? Nortrom stood up and explored the main floor: closets, bathing room, kitchen, and all. He noted stairs going up, and a large hatch in the hall, much too large for him to open alone, and decided the stairs were the best route for more adventure.

Lantern in hand, the boy ascended the wooden steps. The first room was tiny, and looked out of place with the rest of the tidy home. Loose sheets and books were strewn about, pillows thrown into a corner, papers with crude drawings messily tossed about. Whoever stayed in this room didn’t care much for organization. Moving on, another storage closet, and finally what looked to be the master bedroom. It’s was massive, the large four post bed near the entrance, wooden dressers and shelves lining the walls, a few desks, and… What was that? Against the wall there was a strange twine wrapped sculpture with a few open cut boxes and platforms placed at seemingly random points. It was damaged, the twine ripped and torn on the base of the main stand. What an odd looking thing.

In the dark the boy didn’t notice that not all was in place and neat, and he nearly fell over tripping on a loose black cloth that hung out of a flat case lying open on the ground. Kneeling to get a better look, it was then Nortrom noticed his lantern reflecting off something else partially obscured by this black cover.

A mirror. THE mirror.

He jumped back in shock, the strange words and jumbles of information Rizzrack had spoken off echoing in his head. How could he know this place if he had never been here? Something strange was going on, surely. Nortrom rushed back downstairs, leaving the open case and mirror where he found them, and called out looking for Rizzrack.

“Rizzrack, Rizzrack! I found the mirror- or I think I did! It’s just like I recall, come quick!” The panicked wonder and excitement was marred by an underlying fear in his voice.

Rizzrack

Head hanging back, eyes closed, Rizzrack looks to have almost fallen asleep standing, having already finished moments earlier. Swaying on the spot, it takes someone calling his name to snap him back to alertness.

“O-oh! Alright I’m on my way!”

Seconds later he’s run to the door and steps through, still slipping his gloves back on. “I’m here,  I’m here. Where is it?” Curiosity peaks. When the mirror was first mentioned, Rizzrack didn’t think of it as a possible cause to Nortrom’s current state. He actually didn’t think such a thing existed, just something the boy thought up of as he tried so hard to recollect memories. But now? Maybe he can see just what happened, or how it happened, why… and if it could happen  again.

“Show me, b-but let’s not touch it or anything yet, okay?”

Nortromthesilencer

He nodded, still overcome with excitement as he led the keen upstairs and into the master bedroom. There, on the floor where he left it, was a wooden box with runes carved along it’s edges, lid flipped open. Out of it a black satin like sheet led, curled over the edge and on to the wooden planks where it loosely wrapped around half of an ornate, silver framed, oval, mirror.

“This is what I saw– er– remember, sir. The wooden walls, the black sheet, the silver mirror; Everything!”

Nortrom set the lantern down on  the ground, angling it to illuminate the room better as he looked around for some other source of light they could use. There was a torch scone by the balcony door, and the boy grabbed it and brought it over. “Here, this may help.” Rizzrack told him not to touch the mirror, and so the boy waited and watched instead.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack follows Nortrom up the stairs, finding the very act of climbing steps through a home to be… Nostalgic in a sense. Cautiously the keen follows Nortrom in, looking about at the belongings and studies before finally looking at what the boy is excited to show him. “So, this must be… Hmm.” Rizzrack grabs the torch and lights it. Holding it firmly in both hands he stares at Nortrom and waits for him to do something.

Oh, I’m the adult here. Well then.

“Uh…” Unsure and hesitant he looks to the mirror facing up. What if it pulls some other funny stuff? Step by step, inching closer, he gradually peers over at the mirror being sure to not let his reflection be seen by himself. “Do you remember saying any spells or incantations? Or touching it?” With a single finger he begins to inch the fabric off the mirror to show off more of its frame. Nothing quite happens yet, so to test the waters he waves a hand quickly over the top of it.

Nortromthesilencer

“I, hm…” The boy thought, the mirror reflected. Nothing happened as the mirror was revealed, safe for a greater reflection of light and flame off it’s now exposed surface. The hand shows as one would expect, and for all intents and purposes it’s just a mirror.

“I was holding it, looking at it but it wasn’t me. I mean, the reflection wasn’t right but I could be remembering wrong because that doesn’t make any sense.” Nortrom huffs to himself, realizing how silly it all sounded. Kneeling on the ground, he grows impatient and pulls the cloth all the way off, folding it neatly into the box but still not touching the mirror itself, “It’s just a mirror. I don’t see anything special about it.”

Rizzrack

“Well that’s the thing with weird magic stuff. They look like your typical book, you open it and then suddenly there’s five golems chasing you.” Still slightly suspicious of the mirror, he quickly taps it with the leather covered tip of his finger. Nothing still.

He slowly picks it up in one hand and begins rotating it around to inspect it, maybe even find something like instructions. This mirror has GOT to have been responsible for this. He even looked for cracks, recalling the mishap that hexing staff had caused. Then again, maybe the boy IS right. It hasn’t done anything to make him believe it’s magical. Rizzrack hums a note of disappointment and believes now that it is in fact just some ordinary mirror. He holds it over to Nortrom and decides that perhaps maybe there is something in the box.

Nortromthesilencer

Hesitant to take the mirror, Nortrom gives Rizzrack a concerned frown, looking for approval. The keen passing it over is good enough, and he takes the mirror in both hands just like he remembered. The edges are etched with ornate detail and flourishes, making this mirror look like something a Lord might have in his manor, but still there’s no sign of anything strange.

The boy watches Rizzrack explore the case, but finally works up the nerve to look directly at himself in the mirror. The light may be low but he can still make out his features, the black hair, the injuries, the blue eyes, the… wait. Something wrong. Nortrom can’t bring himself to look away no matter how hard he tries, and is unable to say a word or motion that this is the case. He’s stuck, transfixed staring at this mirror, trapped in his own body and knowing that this is the case. The boy’s mind spins, panicking, trying to use every thing he can to pull away and instead he just kneels there, calm, looking.

The reflection ripples ever so slightly. With each blurring motion it shifts, the boy’s face changing bit by bit. His features harden, lines becoming more defined, older. His eyes brighten with a soft glow, deep set and tired. His hair grows longer, his jaw more square. The boy is terrified now, his body shaking from fear. Once the image has completely changed to what he perceives as a completely different person (Or was it really?) he pulls back with a gasp.

Panting for air, Nortrom is quick to place the mirror down and back away. The image on the mirror hasn’t moved with him, acting more like a picture frame than a reflective surface. Still panting, he points in exasperation to this oddity taking place, hoping Rizzrack pays attention.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack is completely unaware of what goes on behind him. The silly keen is much too occupied pecking around the fabric and wood of the box. No etchings, no scrolls, no writings in blood. He sighs, feeling they were no closer to solving this mystery. He scratches the back of his neck while pondering about the next step to take when sounds of shuffling catch his attention. It sounded quick and abrupt so he turns and sees a very bewildered boy pointing down to the mirror. He assumes the boy dropped the mirror and is panicking, fearing he may have broken it.

“Nortrom, it’s okay it’s okay! It’s just a silly mirr-YEIP!” Hand reaching to pick up the object quickly recoils back. Nortrom’s older visage burned into the reflection completely catches Rizzrack off guard.

“D-Do you see that too?!” He points to it, looking like a pink midget parody of the boy. “The mirror IS responsible!”

Nortromthesilencer

“I– Who is that? What is that?” Eyes darting between Rizzrack and the mirror, Nortrom gets to his feet and scratches his hair, dumbfounded. “Why would that have to do with all of this? I’ve never been here bef–” His word cuts with a violent jerk, the boy choking back a harsh breath. His hands flex, confusion drawing into a pained grimace and another lurching jolt. Nortrom’s hands gripped at his clothing, looking for something to hold on to as the pain intensified.

“It hurts! What, what is going on?!?” The child’s knees buckled and he fell forward, form crunching low and arms moving over his head. It hurt, oh god did it hurt. He felt like his body was being torn in two, mind being ripped from his head and flung around the room, innards twisting and turning in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Forcing himself out of his confined ball, he looked up at Rizzrack in agony, tears rolling down his face, “Rizzrack! Help, it hurts!”

Another jolt of pain extorts a yelp and the boy falls forward, head pressed to the ground on his knees, rocking back and forth as he cried out for the torment to stop.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack stammers, trying to figure out how to safely explain to the boy he’s looking at the older version of himself. Before he can even form a coherent word, the boy’s cries of pain alert him to panic. What’s happening? He’s just as confused as Nortrom is.

He quickly crawls over to the boy, trying to look under him, trying to see if something were harming him. But there seems to be no outer source causing. Instead, something within, and Rizzrack feels completely powerless to stop it. Here he is, this poor child who has already gone through more pain than anyone should in a day let alone their life, crying out for help to a keen who can’t do anything at all.

“I-I want to but I can’t I-” his own hands grip the brim of his helm in helpless horror. No, there must be something, there MUST be something! Pained pleas, tears of suffering, desperate begging… It quickly overwhelms Rizzrack. He embraces the boy in one last attempt to stop the pain, and that’s when he eyes the mirror. That damned thing, the cause of all this pain! He hated it. Absolutely hated it. And anything Rizzrack hated, he destroyed no matter what.

Lunging for the mirror, he grips it with both hands, fingers pressed so tight the frame of it crackled. Then with arms over head, mirror raised high, he brings it down and smashes it back down into the box from whence it came.

“FUCK you!”

A slam of the lid follows suit, and the trembling keen turns back towards the child. Well… Rizzrack expected to turn back and see a child

Nortromthesilencer

The shattering shower of glass brought with it a flickering light, each shard a spotlight that condensed where the child was blinded him from the outside world. Blinded by light, blinded by pain, blinded by how own hands over his eyes as he screamed, the massive arcane force that erupted from that spot blew papers and sheets from their rest, snuffed the lights, and knocked the child flat on his back.

Well, sort of.

By the time he hit the ground, it was no child. The contorting pain materialized from the light, dissolving over his body and in an instant reforming into a much larger frame. It only took seconds for everything to settle down as though nothing had happened, save the mess of papers and now grown man splayed out on the ground in casual attire. As for the rest of the room, it was dark as once before.

Nortrom groaned, lips curled in a sneer. His head was pounding, akin to the one time he found himself hung over and swore never to do that again. Keeping his eyes shut he rubbed his hands down his face a few times, skin stretching, massaging, in hopes it would help relieve some of his grogginess. Slowly he opened his eyes, the pale blue glow easily seen in the dark of the night. Night? Just how long had he been out? Last time Nortrom remembered it was early morning…

Rizzrack

Rizzrack was quiet, silent, listening to the familiar grunts of a grumpy man. The glow of eyes is unsettling. Rizzrack knows very well that, despite darkness masking all, there is no longer a child there. Still coping with the overload of emotions moments earlier, he remains still with held breath. After what nearly felt like a minute, he slowly takes in a deep breath and makes his presence known with a cautious whisper.

“Nortrom?

Nortromthesilencer

The voice from the silence made Nortrom jump to a sitting position, only to immediately regret getting up so fast and bend forward, holding himself up by a hand as he waited for the dizzy spell to pass. He sighed, shaking his head, an odd after feeling lingering, heavy, hazy, and definitely not comfortable.

“Rizzrack? What the hell are you doing here?” Slowly looking towards the balcony window, the Silencer grunted in annoyance, “What time is it? Actually, better yet, what day?” He had to know how long it had been.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack flinches, still programed to react to Nortrom’s pain with concern. He grows aware that Nortrom may not remember anything at all, and the thought of trying to explain anything without sounding crazy (hah) seems like a waste of time. Despite those thoughts, Rizzrack digs around for the matches he grabbed earlier. Finding the lantern where he last saw it, he lights it and finds the man sitting and quite frankly, still looking terrible.

“Uh, it’s… About three in the morning. A Tuesday morning.”

All a complete guess, well, the time is a guess. The day of the week is based on Rizzrack’s own calendar as he hasn’t seen an official one in years. He could be right. He could be wrong. Who knows? What he does know Nortrom is not going to be happy to see him, his room in a mess and… Oh, the mirror. Rizzrack hopes that wasn’t important.

“Does anything hurt?” He’s still concerned. Every second looking at the Silencer that passes, his heart sinks more and more, but despite it all, he is happy to know that Nortrom isn’t hurting anymore.

It feels so strange.

Nortromthesilencer

“Three in the…? Ah fuck…” The whole day was gone. Great. That’s exactly what he didn’t need to hear, but had to accept it all the same.

Nortrom squinted as the light was shone, piercing in the darkness uncomfortably. He got to his feet, a bit wobbly at first, and reached up to the hanging brazier from the ceiling beams above. The spring flint tied to it’s frame served it’s roll well, allowing the man to light the coals and illuminate the room fully.

“Hurt? How about everything? I swear, that’s the last time I believe the reports when they say that something is inert…” He grumbles to himself, bitter about this whole situation. Artifact retrieval? Sure, a common task and something he’s done many times. Most, however, were correct in their handling procedures and expectant of the way his powers behaved oddly around magic. This time, not so much. Stretching his shoulders, Nortrom vowed to punch whoever wrote that damned report.

“I feel like my head’s being accosted by a small siege engine. Ugh. Rizzrack, you haven’t seen a silver framed mirror around here, have you?”

He looked around, the arcane binding case still by his feet, closed roughly with the protective drapery stuck out of the edges, and wondered if he actually managed to seal the damned thing before blacking out. Squatting down, Nortrom started to notice something else, the small flecks of glass hinting at something more. A sudden look of worry marred his features, and he bolted to open the case.

Shards. Lots and lots of shards and a bent silver frame. The colour drained from his face. “… I am in so much trouble…”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack said nothing when asked about the mirror. He watched Nortrom walk over to the box, his heart speeding up with every step. He was glad he could walk again without casts but at the same time… The look on Nortrom’s face was nearly enough to get Rizzrack to jump over the balcony and run. He won’t say what happened, but his looks we’re a dead give away to anyone that he knew what happened. After all, the keen looked guiltier than a dog covered in pillow feathers. He set the lantern down in a safe spot upon a desk. Just in case.

“It was… I’m sure it was already broken to begin with. Heh… Anywhoo, um, it’s… Good to see you’re alive and well at least. With great use of your legs again. So I’m just gonna go…. Okay?” He squeaks as he begins to step his way to the bedroom door.

Nortromthesilencer

His head darted from the mirror to the keen, expression piercing, worried, ready to stop Rizzrack if he attempted to run, “Wait. You still haven’t explained why the hell you’re in my house.” Something was up. He knew it.

Throwing his hands up and running them roughly through his hair with a very loud groan, Nortrom knew he was going to hear hell from this. He kicked the case in frustration, mumbling to himself ways he could explain this. “No, no… No matter how I spin this I’m in deep shit…” He was supposed to bring back an inert, thought lost, artifact, retrieved from the depth of an abandoned ruin. Instead, he shattered it before transit.

His hands gripped as his hair, tugging a bit, frustrated. “Rizzrack, what the hell happened here?”

Rizzrack

Remember, you can run! He’s upset, he’s not gonna listen, and you’ll permanently get on his bad side.

Rizzrack is nearly at the door but he can’t find that last push to get out.

You broke the man’s legs before, if he gave you a chance after that, then surely he will after you explain everything and this broken mirror.

“Okay okay! I’ll explain everything! But it’s a long story and you’ve got to hear me out on this.”

He tells Nortrom of how he found a young boy out in the middle of nowhere being attacked by bandits. He tells Nortrom of how he saved the boy, how they travelled to a town to get fuel so he could take the child home, how the child got recaptured, how they escaped….

“So we get to the river, there’s a bit of a misunderstanding between us, hence, heh why I’m all muddy. Anyways long story short I apologized, the little boy apologized, we had a nice quiet trip back to home–your home, then he found the mirror. Then that… That damned thing…” He snarls. “He touched it and that thing was hurting him and I, I didn’t know how to stop it except by smashing it. So I did it, I smashed it. Alright?” He sighs, no longer looking ready to run, but instead intent on setting everything straight and approaches Nortrom closer, ready to tell him the rest. “But…” Suddenly his throat tightens on him and he chokes on his words.

Oh God no.

His hands go up to his face, covering his mouth but failing to cover the tears that begin to well in his eyes. “That poor boy is gone now, and now you’re here. B-but so many terrible things happened… to him…to you…that poor child was you.” Rizzrack can barely hold himself together as he looks up to Nortrom, barely sputtering out his words between choking sobs. The little keen is so distraught. “Why DID they hurt you? You didn’t deserve ANY of that!” The last few seconds he spent with the boy is burned in his mind. His pleading cries, his pain. His eyes connect with that glowing blue gaze, and he fears that somewhere in there, he is still hurting greatly.

And there is nothing Rizzrack can do to help.

The day’s events have obviously taken their toll on the small-keen. He begins to pace about, sobbing and muttering fragments of sentences. Poor child, poor Nortrom. He recalls a particular moment after he discovered the identity of the child, and Rizzrack can only curse the name of Aeol Drias repeatedly.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom listened intently, becoming more confused as the story went on. How peculiar! So the mirror had some sort of chronology altering affect on him, changing his form and pulling from his past memories to recreate what he once was. Nortrom hummed in curiosity, brows furrowed as he thought.

Hearing Rizzrack’s fervored passion for the trials and tribulations that his child self faced, the Silencer sighed and tilted his head sympathetically, “Rizzrack, it sounds like you’ve been through a lot today. I admit, I’m still not completely sure what happened, but I do know you need some rest. If you want you can sleep here, I’ll get a quilt and some pillows from the closet, and the couch should be more than big enough.” Truth was that Nortrom too was exhausted and needed time to think this all over, and knew he would have more questions for the keen in the morning.

“I think we both need some rest. I’ll deal with the mirror tomorrow.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack could not speak a reply. Face in elbows to hide his tears, the small-keen could only nod in agreement that yes, he would like to rest. The desire for comfort exceeds his wants for the safety of his suit. There is a little quivering peep of “thanks” before Rizzrack turns to leave, making a straight bee-line for the couch. He won’t delay himself from sleep any longer.

Hands first, knees follow. He crawls onto the couch. Face into the crevice between backrest and armrest, the rest of himself curls up into a little ball, quite similar to how he could sleep within his suit. The only article of wear removed from his body is his bucket helmet, which sits just below his feet also on the couch. Crusted boots, stale gloves, Nortrom’s couch won’t be making it out of this encounter spotless. Already content to be laying down and finally hiding from it all, he closes his eyes.

The shudderings and sniffles gradually leave to leave only the slow and steady sounds of rhythmic respiration.

Nortromthesilencer

Glad that his offer was accepted (as it would mean not having to hunt the Keen down at a later date), Nortrom followed his downstairs and grabbed a thick blanket from the linen closet as well as a spare down pillow. He set the pillow beside the curled up Rizzrack so that he could grab it as he pleased, and unfurled the blanket over top the poor Keen. He looked pathetic, curled up, crying, and now tucked away in his little blanket cocoon. The tired Silencer wished to follow suit, and head back upstairs to get the torches doused.

Torch snuffed, Keen put to bed, it was time to zonk out. Flopping down on the bed with little care for clothing, Nortrom was lost in slumber mere seconds later. For once his sleep was uneventful, no dreams to recall, only the dead silence of night. He awoke early, as usual, and checked on the mirror now that the sun was starting to rise and illuminate the room.

It was unsalvageable. Nortrom expected as much, but had to be sure. Careful to not miss any shards, he tucked them into the black satin cloth and set it all gently in the case. Not making a sound he tip toed downstairs with the broken bundle. Rizzrack was curled up, still snoozing away, with Stig contently loafing in the morning sun that grazed one of the many windowsills. Assuming he had time before the keen awoke, Nortrom decided to quickly use the teleport route to Aeol Drias and get the whole mirror fiasco over with as soon as possible.

***

The sun was overhead, time well past noon. Nortrom groaned as he shut the door, careful not to bend his shoulders too far or touch his back to anything as he walked. Even with the fresh bandaging wrapped about his upper torso, the brushing of his loose shirt stung the freshly torn nerves. As expected, the Factol’s were pissed. This was a mistake he made in handling an artifact, something irreplaceable and deemed important to the order, and it was only fair that he be punished as such.

Walking with an awkward gait from the lashing injuries across his back, still fresh, still lightly soaking the bandages in a soft red, Nortrom grabbed the pitcher of water on the kitchen counter and poured himself something to drink. By this point the man had forgotten he had let Rizzrack stay the night, and instead focused more on thoughts of what he could have done better to prevent this all from happening. There were no doubts in Nortrom’s mind that this was his fault ultimately.

Rizzrack

He awoke. For what may have been the tenth time. He can’t remember what keeps waking him. Maybe he’s just not used to sleeping this way. Once again he turned to his opposite side, facing outside the couch and pulls the quilt over his head. He had to keep reminding himself of where he was, where his suit was, and of course to not panic. Everything will be fine.

The door opens. A stranger? A visitor? It’s Nortrom. He figures he must have not heard him left in the first place. Where did he go to? Rizzrack peers beneath the covers, watching him make his way into the kitchen. Why is he walking like that? Why is he making that face? Is he upset? It would be understandable. Rizzrack mimics the expression, trying to understand this new situation. Should he stay quiet? He waits for Nortrom to turn the other way and takes this opportunity to sit up, tossing aside the quilt and finding his helmet (now on the floor) he places it back upon his head. He eyes the door, looks back to the man, then steps down from the couch and makes his way over towards him.

“Nortrom?” Rizzrack approaches the corner of the counter and rests his fingers and chin upon it, keeping the rest of himself hidden. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.” He backs his face away from the counter, but hands remain upon it. “Look I… sorry again about the mirror. If there’s any way I can make that up to you…”

He spies something on the back of Nortrom’s shirt. Something that could be easily glanced over. A small, reddish spot. The keen’s brows crease with worry as the sight raises within his mind certain thoughts. “… Are you okay?”

Nortromthesilencer

He flinched at the voice, remembering second later that yes he allowed Rizzrack to sleep there the night. Nortorm huffed a small, entertained, chuckle at his reaction before continuing on grabbing a plate and stove rack from the cupboards. “Good morning, or should I say afternoon?” He shrugs, wincing and immediately regretting the action.

Figuring it would be best to be polite, he poured a second glass of water for the keen and set it before him, then took a large swig of his own. God he needed that. “I’m fine. And I already spoke with my superiors about the mirror. It’s been dealt with.”

Nortrom went to the small stove and lit the flame, placing the rack topper above and waiting for it to heat. He turned to Rizzrack, trying his best to act casual, “Hungry?” Sure it wouldn’t be anything special, but right now Nortrom craved something substantial, and he knew he had a thick cut of venison in cold storage that would fit his needs very well.

Starting to walk down the hall to gather what he needed, the man stopped, “Rizzrack, I– Hm. If you don’t mind, I would like to discuss the other day. I have questions.”

Rizzrack

His worry never leaves him despite Nortrom’s cheery greeting (which Rizzrack finds uncharacteristic of him). He takes the cup and sips it, nose bumping the opposite side of the rim. It’s a typical experience when drinking from something other than a bottle. He says nothing and once again just settles to accept that what is done is done, and the mirror will now only be a thing of the past.

At being asked if he was hungry, his mouth immediately  waters and he perks up. “Yes. Yes yes I am very hungry. heh.” He’s distracted momentarily from his worries, now peering over at Nortom and curious to see what he may possibly be looking for to make.

“O-oh, sure.” Oh boy, question time. These sort of things could go either way, but Rizzrack can’t find any reason for this discussion to go negatively. After all, it’s not only his hunger he hopes to satiate. His curiosity had desires as well, and he hopes to learn of some more things to answer his questions. Taking that as a cue, Rizzrack places the cup back down upon the counter and walks after Nortrom.

“So! Interrogation time…” he claps his hands together, the gloves making a muffled and dusty slap. “Ask anything you want, just don’t go Good Guard Bad Guard on me, hehheh.”

Nortrom’s odd gait does not escape his notice.

Nortromthesilencer

“Heh, right. It’s more the fact that I can’t remember any of the events you spoke of yesterday,” Kicking aside the rug at the end of the hallway, Nortrom reveals a large wooden hatch with an iron ring fit into the floor. He pulls it open, both the hatch and him making pained sounds, and descends the steps. Even with how dark it was in the storage, the Silencer didn’t bother to light the torch scone as he knew exactly where he left the meat hanging, a large leg of venison, and also a crate that was mostly empty of vegetables. He threw the leg on top of the crate and took the whole thing in one lift, again wincing in pain as he did so, and walked back up the stone steps.

“You said I was child? How did you know it was me in the first place? Did I have any recollection of my current life, or was I fully regressed back?” It was awkward walking with such a large bundle in arm, but he managed to make it to the kitchen and plop the whole thing down on the counter. A cutting board and large knife were also set aside, and soon he was butchering the meat. (May I not that Nortrom didn’t know a damned thing about proper butchering and only cut based on his hunting experience from years of living alone. He was sure any professional chef would smack him upside the head for improper technique and ruining such fresh cuts of meat with his awkward angles and poor separation.)

“Though, all in all, you did get me back here. What the hell is with things recently and you being stuck dragging me back home?” He forced an awkward laugh, still hacking away at the deer leg.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack nods and waits at the top of the entrance, peering down into the darkness. He’s fine not following all the way through.

“Yes. I didn’t know it was you at first. You were polite, well-mannered, I can say I was impressed! I can’t say I agree with all of that resulting in you being timid and fearful. You had mentioned the Hazhadal Barrens and then I noticed you look like a, well, young version of you. It just added up.” He rambles on as the Silencer returns and heads back to the kitchen. The small-keen continues to trail after him. “I could actually be fooled into believing I somehow ended up in the past. You had no idea about your future self. Heh, in fact, when I tried to tell you, it was too much and you freaked out on me.” Rizzrack shrugs. “I can’t really blame you for that reaction. You had a terrible day getting kidnapped and beaten up…” Rizzrack wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to go further into detail with that event. Even just thinking about it brought about feelings of anger. He’s practically seeing red.

Wait a second.

Instead of joining Nortrom in a bout of awkward chuckles, Rizzrack is silent. He takes off his glove carefully. He stares at the man’s back while he cuts away. There are specks of red on the fabric that congregates just below his shoulders. He reaches up as high as he can and lightly  presses his hand to Nortrom’s back. Please don’t be blood.

Nortromthesilencer

Still listening but not saying anything as he concentrated on not cutting himself, Nortrom nodded. A few nice steaks later, the man is about to turn around when he suddenly feels pressure against the recently torn skin of his back and yelps, jumping with a hiss from both being startled and in pain. Whipping around to look at what had just happened, he spies the small keen and exhales with a dramatic huff, “What the hell are you doing?!?” The anger subsides into a slumped sigh, and huffilly the man grabs two large steaks and takes them to the stove top. “I said I’m fine. It will heal, and I’ll change the bandages out in a bit.”

He didn’t enjoy the intrusion, or the method Rizzrack used to confirm his suspicions. going back and forth to throw random vegetables on the stove top grill as well, the man growls. “Fine, look, I’ll level with you here: This is twice now you’ve been privy to information about me and my past that I don’t exactly share with others,” He hovered a hand over the grill to check the temperatures then went back to set out some plates, “I’m none too pleased with that fact.”

Nortrom pushed the crate to the end of the counter, wiping down where it was with a cloth. Resting his elbows on the table in a leaning position, chin on his hands, the man sighed again. His eyes trailed from the stove to Rizzrack, efforts to hide his anxiety and what went on while Rizzrack was sleeping, gone.

“My superiors were not pleased that the mirror was broken. It was only natural that I be disciplined for such a failure. My mission was the bring back the artifact in tact. I did not. It’s nothing to worry about and dealt with.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack stepped back, honestly having expected to be punted after it became apparent there was quite an injury under there. “I suspected you’re hiding something! I want to know what happened. Who hurt you?” His tone was firm and demanding and unwavering. He felt completely entitled to know.

The keen repositions himself, moving to the opposite side of Nortrom now, attempting to get face to face with him and still demanding to know.

Stern expression becomes concerned. “Just because of that? But it wasn’t your fault! You told them I broke it, right? Then they should have been understanding!” He huffs and clenches his hands into fists at his sides. “This isn’t dealt with at all. In fact I should be dealing with it! I should go there and give them a piece of my mind, that’s what I should do.” He grumbles, unaware of how ridiculous he sounds.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t be absurd.” He pulled the meat from the rack, cutting it open to check. It was bloody and pink in the middle, just how he liked it. Not knowing if Rizzrack liked his steaks this rare or not, he plated them anyways.

“It’s completely my fault, and foolish to think I don’t deserve some form of disciplinary action for failing at my duties. I mishandled the artifact, leading to it’s activation. There is no one to blame here by myself.”

Nortorm grabbed each plate and went to the table, placing them down. A large venison steak with roasted vegis awaited the pair.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack finds it fruitless getting anywhere with Nortrom on this subject and settles with dropping it. What a shame. He opens his mouth to begin another conversation, but he becomes distracted watching Nortrom carry two plates to the table with the most delicious looking cuts of meat he’s seen in ages.

Hungry.

SO HUNGRY.

He walks over to one of the plates set down and looks to Nortrom as if to confirm that one was for him. Yes. Gloves are set on the table and he grasps the portion of meat with his hands and quite greedily begins to tear into it. He’s not even sitting. No time to sit, only time to eat. He gets more ravenous, forgetting whatever manners he may have as he bites off as much as he can without choking.

“Mmffmf hnk yu. mmfff.” He finishes his mouthful. “I haven’t had anything this good in who knows how long!” Easy to say when one lives off insects, fish and the occasional fowl. Another bite of meat is taken, and the veggies are continued to be left ignored.

Nortromthesilencer

While the man raises a brow at Rizzrack’s ravenous display, he isn’t put off by it and instead cuts himself a few large pieces and also enjoys finally eating something of substance.

“Good? I heated meat. Most people would call my cooking abysmal, so I admit I’m now curious as to what the hell you normally eat.” It couldn’t be much if this randomly charred pile of roots and meat counted as ‘good’ by any standard but his own.

Feeling it best not to disturb the keen as he eats, Nortrom is content in silently devouring his own plate and glass of water. Time passes with neither saying a word, the only sound is of them chewing and tearing away. After feeling full and taking the final mouthful of water from his glass, Nortrom sets it down with a loud and content sigh before looking once more at the keen, more seriously this time.

“I’m hoping you won’t go and speak of certain things to others that you may have seen or heard of about me, Rizzrack. Given the fact you’ve been painted a very jaded and incomplete picture, I’ll answer your questions, but it’s not because I feel any sort of kinship here. It’s because I don’t want you getting the wrong impression about things.”

Rizzrack

The meat soon vanished into the small-keen. Rizzrack picks around at the left over veggies on his plate, inspecting them. Deeming only SOME of them to be suitable for consumption, he decides to eat just one. If only to not be rude. He’s quite full now.

Chewing the last mouthful, he rests his elbows upon the table and clasps his fingers together to give his chin something softer than wood to rest on. “Do you think I’m that kind of person?” He pauses, remembering not too long ago he made it almost a routine to put up signs around the local town that slandered the Silencer. “I mean, whatever sort of things I did say were obviously not true.” He takes a few seconds to slip his gloves back on before returning back to his previous pose. “How was I supposed to know this… Fold… was responsible for such terrible acts?” His brows rise as he remembers. “By the way, did you get that locket to its intended recipient?” One hand moves to prop his cheek. “I hope so. I… I really thought you were just looting the bodies. I know now though, and I think I can say I don’t like The Fold either.”

Nortromthesilencer

Fingers tapping on the edge of the table, Nortrom frowns. “I doubt you share what transpired at Augury Bay with any real detail with most, as it wasn’t a pleasant time for you. I will say most of my life fits that theme, and would still appreciate it kept to yourself.” The man reclined in his seat, folding his arms behind his head. Pressure being put on his back, he flinched, leaning back forward almost immediately. That was a bad move that also alerted him to the fact that bandages would have to be swapped soon, as his shirt was getting ruined.

“Mmhm. Unfortunately when he pried the locket open, the picture inside was destroyed, but the sentiment of the piece remained. What ill fated timing for her to visit during– well. It’s too late to ruminate on that. What happened, happened. As for the Fold, do not think me innocent either. My role is a soldier and sort of inquisitor: I fight. I kill. I interrogate. I torture. Though, I can at least say I have not slaughtered a village merely for being neutral in the conflict,” He chuckled, as despite the dark occurrence there was a morbid humour in it to the Silencer that he doubted Rizzrack would share, “I was bred, in all technicalities, to commit genocide.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack gives a questioning nod of agreement. He did at first, way back when he sought help and comfort. Bits and pieces of events dressed with tears as he struggled to share his horrors. Of course, the first few merely attempted to correct his accounts into a different narrative. Outside of his own kind, others merely pitied him, seeing him as a confused and traumatized victim of war like many others. Over time his attempts at telling the whole story grew shorter and shorter, until eventually it only became a single sentence summary he’d blurt out before proceeding with a cutting spree. He nods firmly now. The small-keen deems himself a better audience than those he hoped would listen to himself. Nortrom should count himself lucky.

A disappointed sigh, but the locket will be treasured regardless he supposes. Rizzrack continues to  listen, his brows furrow and he shifts on the spot uncomfortably as Nortrom lists off his duties. It’s not something he agrees with, but because of recent events, a new light is shed on conflict and war to the keen that he was unfamiliar with. It’s not exactly black and white, but at least Rizzrack knows he prefers the lesser of two evils. It’s Nortrom’s last statement that gets the keen to finally speak up.

“You’re telling me your purpose is to kill? Nortrom, the Timbersuit is made to kill. You can see it in the design. Are you telling me you were born with a glaive and shield in your hands?”

Nortromthesilencer

The comparison makes the Silencer laugh, albeit lightly. He shakes his head, “Yes and no… It was ordained well before I was born what my duty would be; Two-hundred years before hand actually. I was crafted, made over seven generations of selective breeding according to a prophesied pedigree to be the ‘worlds greatest battle mage’,” He scoffs as he speaks the title, finding his this whole breeding thing to be ridiculous, “A creation to smite the Fold. From birth I was trained to this task. Alas, it was not a mage they got, but a child without a drop of magic. You can imagine how upset that made many.” With a sigh Nortrom shakes his head and lets it droop over-dramatically.

Lifting himself back the man stood, clearing the plates as he still spoke,  “You, on the other hand, are a clean slate. While your past may have taken much from you, your future is unsure as you have yet to create it. Any place, any journey, any task: Fate is yours to command.  But I? Just as your timber suit is a tool for your destruction, as I am theirs. My life has been decided for me, and because I owe my order everything: They created me, raised me, educated me, fed me, clothed me, and gave me purpose; I am forever in their debt.”

A dipped in sink like wash basin lies set into the back counter, and Nortrom places the dishes within and grabs a nearby cloth, washing them down. He sighs, the cold water raising goose-bumps on his arms while the rippling, sloshing, feel of the suds calm his nerves from speaking about all of this.

“So yes, in a way I was born with a glaive in my hands and blood on my boots.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack listens, recalling at the river how the young Nortrom took it much more negatively than expected when the keen laughed at the thought of him casting a spell. Imagine, being held to such high expectations and being essentially turning out to be a dud to everyone? “Well they shouldn’t have taken their disappointment out on you. Still, looks like you showed them, hm? I bet you left them…. speechless!” The small-keen laughs at his own shitty joke before quieting back down. Rizzrack doesn’t know very much of the arcane world, but he does know Silencer’s ability is a bit uncanny. They must’ve felt like complete fools for punishing the poor boy.

He moves from his leaning spot over to the chair Nortrom left and decides to keep the seat in use, preferring to stay near the man but not in his way as he washed. “Nortrom, have you ever thought that maybe… I dunno..” He rests his arm horizontally on the table and props his head with his hand. “I’m guessing that to you, they’re the closest thing you’d call family, right? Parents do all those things, but do they expect you to pay them back? No! They want you to grow and follow your own dreams! My family made harvesters, I wanted to make toys. Did they stop me? Maybe my uncle b-but that’s not the point. The point is, you don’t owe them anything. You just think you need them.” Rizzrack crosses his arms and nods, feeling confident with his points. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s quite the opposite. They need you!”

Rizzrack begins to get a little too excited, having transitioned from sitting to standing on his little improvised soap-box. “Demand better treatment! Better pay! Compensation for the pain they’ve put you through! Or else you’ll leave them, THEN they’ll be sorry!”

Nortromthesilencer

“Your passion is admirable, but no, a parent has a child to build a family. I was ‘crafted’ not birthed, the intent was never to be more than a tool of war. Besides, it’s not as bad as that all sounds, I actually enjoy many part of my job.”

One final pass to dry the dishes, and Nortrom leans against the counter facing Rizzrack, “And I do get paid well. You see this? How I live?” He extends an arm, paying notice to how barren and plain his home was, “I choose to live this way because I enjoy the simplicity. Financially, I’m quite well off, even if my home doesn’t display luxury.” It was true; Nortrom had been paid since graduation, and never spent the money on much. Instead he saved, hording it in a sense, but not because of greed but due to the exact opposite: There was nothing he wanted to splurge on. Now he was one of the richest men in Aeol Drias yet none would know based on how he acted or lived.

“There’s also something quite therapeutic about interrogating someone. After a long, stressful, week of battle, the control you have during torture is… cathartic.” A morbid smirk painted his lips. Soon he shook it away, not wanting to drag Rizzrack into his other hidden side, the side of sadism.

Nortrom shoved himself off the counter and decided to finally do something about these bandages that weren’t stopping much. He stepped out toward the hall, pulling his shirt off and revealing the wraps around his torso and the myriad of scars peeking out from under them. While the bleeding strips were new, many marks on his skin told much older tales, some painful, some memorable, all now permanent reminders etched into himself.

“Wait, you said you wanted to be a toy maker? Is that why you wanted to work on those spinning things before? Hm, what a contrast, from making toys to the timbersuit!”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack looks unsettled by the grin. He gives a nervous chuckle before sitting back down and passing it off as Nortrom’s strange sense of humor. He watches the man step off, observes him taking off the shirt and takes notice of the stained wraps. He winces at the sight. He himself has scars, but are mere nicks in comparison to Nortrom’s. Those fresh lines will just be another layer upon his body.

Rizzrack turns away and focuses on his fidgeting hands at the table while he waits for the Silencer to tend to himself. He only pipes up again after Nortrom speaks. “Y-yes, I did.” He confirms bashfully. His mouth does a poor job resisting the urge to form a smile. “Heh, cutting things is what I do, but not the only thing I do! I’ve gotta make gold somehow.” He returns to resting his chin on the table while his feet swing about idly. “It is. I honestly never would have expected it. My Uncle tried to teach me to design and build machines, just like him. It never really felt like my thing. My creations were far from practical. The first prototype I designed was deemed a failure for having ‘too many legs and not enough wheels.’ Needless to say, my plans were left to gather dust in the workshop, but as you can see I eventually made use of them.” He adds as he waves a hand to where the Timbersuit is parked outside.

The small-keen sighs as solemn thoughts approach. “Every day I wonder what things would be like if I had-” he flinches as the rest of the words stop at the edge of his tongue. It’s a thought that plagues him, that eats away at his strength and power and renders him to feeling at fault. It’s a thought that hurts no matter how he looks at it, and the only way to avoid the pain is to avoid the thought.

But perhaps now he can face it? Rizzrack attempts to start over, but chokes on the same word. “I-I’m sorry I… Nevermind. I  almost let myself get off track.” He sits silently, but his mind refuses to drop the topic. “Nortrom, do  you ever wish you could change the past? If you could, would you? If you knew you could make everything better?”

Nortromthesilencer

Rizzrack’s own fumbling words do not go unnoticed. Going down the hall, Nortrom too falls into silence as the keen fights for what to say, grabbing a small box from the closet and a couple of wash-clothes before returning. Then, Rizzrack tries once more but this time with a question. Nortrom hums, brows furrowed in thought. Would he?

“I– There are not many things I would attempt to change. What I’ve been through, it’s made me who I am. It’s shaped me, my personality, my skills, and more. To take that all back would be to erase myself entirely.” He sighs, carefully unwrapping himself and trying to not get blood on any of his furniture. Part way through Nortrom stops and stares at the ground, lost in thought. “Though, there is one thing I… No. To even think on it is pointless. What’s done is done, and dwelling on the past with hopeless potentials will only make it harder to move on.”

Even saying that, he wasn’t completely convinced. His expression remained lost, somewhere else, contemplating what could have been. The one person who needed saving most of all, the one person he would want to help above all else–

Nortrom snapped out of his trance when he felt the bandage loop come loose the rest of the way and fall on to the floor. He swore under his breath, bundling it up and making sure no stains were left on his floor. He carefully set them beside the washbasin, dipping a cloth in before reaching awkwardly to pat his back clean.

“The one thing I regret most of all, that will never leave my memory no matter how long time goes on, is not mine to change. Even if I could go back, there is no guarantee I could even right things. For all I know, my interference would only make it worse in the end.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack remains silent at the table as he dwells on Nortrom’s views. Why wouldn’t anyone go back to undo all the wrong that’s been done? Or to erase everything bad that’s happened? If the keen sacrificing his present self meant his family… everyone could still be alive to this day, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Nortrom wouldn’t go back for any benefit of himself, but he feels a hesitance he can empathize with when Nortrom considered it for another’s sake.

The keen’s restless legs fall still as he considers his next question. He has a hunch about who this person is, all based on Nortrom’s spilled secrets during his vulnerable stupor. He thinks it over, running various versions of questions through his head to see if Nortrom’s opinion stands firm, rewording them more and more until it comes out quite suddenly and blunt. “Do you think it’d be better if you never knew him, like how you never knew your parents?”

Nortromthesilencer

A few winces here, a grunt there, and some very strange stretches in an attempt to reach all of the wounds, but Nortrom manages to clean himself up for the most part. From the box, a first aid kit of sorts, he pulls out some disinfectant and gauze. In the middle of reaching around again to apply the disinfectant, he’s forced to stop by the Keen’s question. Nortrom makes a small, uncomfortable sound as he places the disinfectant back down.

“That–” He freezes mid breath, eyes darting to the side, uncomfortable, unsure. Would he be better off? “He… He caused a lot of issues, for me, for everyone. We were raised the same, expected to be the same, and hidden from one another all the same but he took things very differently. I… I regret not being able to help him when he needed it most. Had I never met him though? Had he never existed?”

Nortrom sighed, this was quite hard to talk about. His voice was losing it’s rough edge, almost cracking at the ends of his sentences while he spoke. Feeling a need to fiddle as his nerves always called for, he turned to the gauze and started to wrap himself back up while speaking, softer than before, “If I never met him, then hundreds, perhaps thousands would still be alive. Icarus would not have been driven to madness. My friends would not have been tortured. I would not have b–” Another pause, and a low hum. “I do not know the answer to that, Rizzrack. Through him I learnt more about myself than I ever had known before. Through him I finally knew family. The pain he caused was enormous, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. I’m sorry, I just can’t answer that.”

By this point his voice was wavering, each word taking astounding effort to form and say. Nortrom takes a shaky breath, and holds his jaw tightly clenched. He knew that to speak now would carry the risk of emotions overflowing, and that wasn’t something he wanted to show. Concentrating completely now on patching himself up, the Silencer remained silent once more.

Rizzrack

For the first time since Nortrom began tending to his wounds, Rizzrack looks to him, feeling his pain in a way. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand why the man could love or care deeply for someone who hurt him so much. He can see Nortrom himself doesn’t understand as well. The keen is feeling quite sorry for bringing that up for him, having never seen the Silencer this open, this exposed. He sees something in common between them, and he pities him for it.

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore. You’ve shared a lot.” Though with everything shared between them, he can feel neither of them have gotten closer to the answers they seek. If Rizzrack must find some good to come from this however. “Hmm, you know, I’ve always felt alone. I never thought I’d meet someone who could understand me. It doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.” It’s comforting. It’s genuine. It’s not forced pity or guilty sympathy. He’s hopeful. “I hope you don’t feel so alone.”

Less and less did Rizzrack see Nortrom as some irritable hermit. He sees himself, he sees them both, hiding beneath their bubble, their armor, avoiding what they fear to face while retaining their facade of stoicism or bravery.

Nortromthesilencer

A tinge of guilt overcomes Nortrom when he hears this, and with his back turned to the keen, hands on the counter, he huffs. “I only shared such things with you so you could get a more complete picture and not jump to conclusions. Had you not been forced to encounter my ‘past state’, we would never be having this discussion.”

The box is arranged back and closed up, ready to be put away once more. Taking it in arm, he walks again down the hall, depositing the crate into the closet and closing the door. The force is harder than intended, the wood slamming as it latched, his nerves obviously on edge. With his hands running through his hair and massaging his scalp, Nortrom returns and stands at the room’s edge.

“People get close to me for only three reasons: To harm me, to use me, or to claim ownership of me. Anyone I get to know will either fall into this category, or get harmed in some way by being in my proximity. Don’t take personal offence, Rizzrack, but I’m not exactly ready to take any chances,” Sliding his arms down, he crosses them and leans against the nearest wall. The Silencer carries very little of his stern resolve normally seen, tired both emotionally and physically, in pain, and vulnerable. He’s conflicted, still not sure where Rizzrack actually stands with himself, or he to the keen, “It’s actually unfortunate that you had to be dragged into my past as such, though I feel this is my fault. I tried to offer you a different insight into your own issues, and in doing so opened the doors for further interactions. I really need to learn to keep to myself more.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack sighs. Perhaps that’s the case with Nortrom, but he can’t help but feel that maybe it all happened for a reason?

He flinches at the sound, and his thoughts turn. No Rizzrack. You know better, you know it’s not the case.

A desire to reach out to the man is snuffed by guilt and regret. Because perhaps still, if it weren’t for his meddling, the man wouldn’t have gotten hurt more.

“It’s fine, Nortrom.” He finally decides to hop down from the seat, turning quickly to wipe the wood of any dust he may have left behind. “If not your darkness, then it’s mine. Either way I’ll have to face unpleasant things. I”m not sure if I should thank you as I didn’t want to, but I guess it was necessary.” Adjusting his gloves he walks over to Nortrom. “Now not to be rude, but I think it’s best if I get going. You really look like you need your space. I think I need mine too.” His hand reaches out for a shake. “Thanks for the food, sorry for the trouble.”

Nortromthesilencer

He forces a smile, bending down slightly as to reach the hand offered. Taking it in a firm shake, Nortrom nods, “I believe we do. There was no trouble, Rizzrack. You take care, and perhaps more will come of this at a later date.”

There was a certain glimmer of hope that maybe Rizzrack would prove his track record wrong. The keen had certainly faced his share of hardship, and now knew much more about him than most. In all of his years, only one person came to mind as not following suit and causing him further suffering, and he would be amazed, and relieved, if that happened once more.

Standing back up straight and brushing the front of his chest, Nortrom yawns. Yup. Still tired, despite sleeping in.

“Safe travels, Rizzrack.”

Rizzrack

With a nod and a single wave, the small-keen turns, ensuring this time that yes the bucket helm is on his head before he steps out the door. The sound of the suit starting up can be heard, and after a minute of consistent rumbling, crunching steps can be heard taking off, and the noise grows distant. All that remains is the wafting scent of exhaust in the air, and tracked dirt within Nortrom’s home.

The Timbersuit wanders back towards the direction of the river. Rizzrack once again looks bothered, the stains of blood on the suit’s hull reminding him of the people he murde-..

He mutters to himself. He only rid the world of monsters. It’s one less thing to worry about. One less thing to plague his thoughts. There’s other, more important things to worry about, such as…

“Caw…caw…”

His thoughts are interrupted and his eyes glance to a broken and abandoned wooden fence, eyeing the group of crows gathered upon it. He swallows dryly.

...Such as finding a new, even further region to travel to.

He needs to get away from here before something worse comes.