not-that-dillinger

[not-that-dillinger]

Act I Scene 2

The early rays of dawn filter in through Ed's window, a golden pool of warmth projected onto the floor. Ed watched the sunrise, exhaustion threatening to pull him into the velvet embrace of sleep, warring with anxiety for the day.

He didn't know what to expect. He'd spent a week in the dungeon of the palace. That was easy, for the most part. Boring, but at least after the first day he knew what to expect. They fed him twice a day, and emptied the chamber pot twice a day. There were four rotations of the guard, as constant as clockwork.

And then he'd been pulled disoriented from his cell, stripped, dunked in a bathtub, told to change into his spare set of clothes, which were returned to him, and then dragged back through the palace.

"Where is Eos?" he asked frantically while the guards herded him through the palace.

They pushed him into the entrance hall and toward the door silently. Ed dug his heels in. He couldn't leave without...

The Duke emerged from the throne room, the limp shell of his creation cradled in the his's arms.

"Eos!" Ed screamed.

The guards pulled him toward the door.

"No!" He struggled against them, desperate to get to his companion, except that he was weak from hunger and exhaustion, and it took little for the guards to drag him into the carriage and secure the metal cuffs on his wrists to the side of his carriage so he couldn't escape. Duke Bradly's own warforged creation gracefully climbed into the seat across from Ed, never taking his eyes off of him. The Duke deposited Eos's dormant shell on the seat next to Ed, then took the seat next to his own warforged. "What... what have you done?" Ed whispered desperately.

"Your creation is very loyal to you," Duke Bradley observed. "He tried to break you out of the dungeon. He put up quite a fight and he would have succeeded if we didn't disable him."

They'd taken the Spark that brought Eos to life from his shell. He wasn't destroyed, and with the right components, Ed could bring him back, but... well. His loom was a critical component of that process, and Ed unfortunately did not have that.

Ed did his best to wrap his arms around his companion's shell despite the cuffs, and cried until his eyes were dry.

He spent two days trapped in a carriage with the Duke on a trip from the capital city to the seat of the duchy. When they stopped for lunch the Duke's creation dragged him into the forest to relieve himself. The Duke pushed a small bundle of fruit, bread and cheese and a canteen of water into Ed's hands when they returned. "Sit," Duke Bradley said. His tone was deceptively neutral, but Ed recognized a command when he heard one. He didn't dare disobey. Ed picked at the food he'd been given, though with the stress and anxiety of his situation, the thought of eating much made him feel nauseous. After an hour, they all climbed back into the carriage, the Duke casting an unreadable look at the bundle that contained Ed's mostly uneaten meal. They continued in silence until the evening, and then stopped for the night. The Duke's warforged, Tron, he called it, kept watch while they camped. Unlike Ed's creations, Tron was weaponized, and Ed had no illusion that he would be able to escape if he tried.

He spent most of the night watching Tron back. At day break, they followed the same pattern as the previous stops.

They reached the castle in the evening the second day, and Tron herded Ed into his new... accommodations. And then Ed was left alone for the night.

/* ...So... Ed's fantasy AU has consumed my brain the past... week? Less? Something like that. So... Have... A Thing. IDK what it is but it sure is words. Presenting... */

What's Past Is Prologue

Or: A prelude to Ed's Fantasy AU

Act I Scene 1

Ed curled around Eos's cold, dormant form in a bed that was barely big enough for the both of them. Pale moonlight glinted off his warforged companion's body, and Ed could almost pretend it was the glow of the Spark that gave his creation life. He lay awake, back to the wall the tiny bed was pushed against, watching the door opposite him in the dark. Eos would have told him to sleep, but fear of an attack in his sleep--from his father's forces whom he'd fled from, or from those of the Alan Bradley, Duke of Torvaldia, whose hospitality he was at the mercy of--and the unfamiliarity of his surroundings made rest difficult, despite the exhaustion. He hadn't slept much in over a month, and Ed feared what would happen when exhaustion finally won out and forced him to sleep.

His new quarters were... nice, all things considered. They were small; much smaller than what he had grown up with, smaller than the Duke's, or the young king and Duke's ward's, but he had sleeping quarters connected to another chamber for receiving guests. The sheets on his bed weren't quite as warm or soft as what he'd had before, but getting that sort of quality was difficult, even for a master weaver. He had a nearly empty set of drawers to store the single change of clothes and few possessions he came with, and a window with a view of the city. He could tell the window was magically reinforced from the slight distortion of the view. It would take the force of a heavy siege cannon to break the it. Still, his current accommodations were oddly comfortable, given his situation, and Ed couldn't be picky. It certainly beat the dungeon cell he'd been confined to the past week, or napping on the ground wherever he could find decent cover like he had for the month prior. Ed wasn't sure if his current situation was better than his previous one or not.

It was still a prison, gilded in gold, just like the one he'd fled from over a month ago.

He curled tighter around the dull metal shell that had been his friend and constant companion the past five years, and the reason he'd fled the comfort of his own home. He wouldn't mind captivity so much, or the humiliation of begging his father's enemy for asylum, only to be thrown in the dungeon, if Eos was still active and safe. Ed could, of course, revive his creation, if only he had his loom.

Except he had destroyed it before he fled, and he doubted the Duke would allow him to build a new one.

That the Duke allowed him to keep his Eos's dormant shell might have been a small kindness, but it felt like a cruel taunt. All he had was a hollow metal shell, and the fear that his warden would take that away as well.

Eventually, restlessness forced Ed out of his bed. He paced the length of the room several times, then cautiously perched on the window sill, and stared out across the city. Somewhere, out beyond the city wall, were the ruins of a tower on a small island in the middle of a lake. "A few hours' ride," the Duke had said, "though it will take a few months to make it a suitable living space."

A suitable prison to contain an artificer, Ed had no doubt.

The city was silent, only a few guards on patrol out in the streets.

...And a lone cloaked figure, hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley. Ed leaned in, intrigued. What were they up to? They were facing the mouth of the alley, face tilted up, as though watching the sky.

Not the sky, he realized, his eyes meeting the mysterious figure's. Him.

Ed threw himself backward away from the window, his heartbeat drumming rapidly in his throat. He yelped as he stumbled backward into the bed, and fell over Eos. The metallic sound of his creation's empty shell echoed through the room like that of a gong.

The door opened, and light flooded the room.

"Prince Edward?"

Ed tensed, then turned over quickly and wrapped his arms around his creation.

"Is everything alright?" Ed hesitantly looked up and squinted in the blinding light at the guard hovering over him, the hand not holding the lantern at the hilt of his sword.

Gawain, if Ed remembered correctly. He glanced back toward the window.

Gawain dimmed the light on his lantern, and furrowed his brow in confusion. "Did you see something out the window?" He hesitantly stepped toward the window to check it out. "I don't see anything out there, your highness," he said after a minute.

Ed rolled off of Eos, off of the bed and onto his feet. He hesitantly approached the window, attempting to keep his distance between himself and Gawain.

The alley where the cloaked figure had been was empty.

Ed stared out the window, frantic to find where they had went, but he couldn't find them.

"Get some rest, your highness," Gawain said. "You are perfectly safe here." He moved toward the bed, toward Eos, and Ed dived for the dormant warforged, wrapping his arms around his creation, desperate to not let anyone take Eos away from him again. Gawain froze and stared at him with a look of confusion. "Very well, Prince Edward. Sleep well." He slipped back out of the room and shut the door behind him, leaving Ed once more in darkness.

Ed climbed in bed, and curled around Eos.

Sleep, however, did not come.

#/* there is more to this but it got too long for a tumblr post so breaking it up... */ #prelude to ed's fantasy au #ed's fantasy au

[not-that-dillinger]

After...everything he'd been through, the short trip to the building was excruciating, and to make things worse, Ed was starting to get a headache from his blurred vision and trying to focus, and he ended up just enduring it with his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched tightly.

He could still tell when they entered the building from the change in the sound of their footsteps, and the way they echoed inside.

Jacquard dropped Ed. He groaned from the impact. He would have tried attacking the guards again, despite the pain he was in, except that he still had no mobility.

He kept his eyes closed until he heard the guard's footsteps receded, and feeling returned to his limbs.

He continued to lie on the floor for a minute longer, the sensation of the cool tile through his suit soothing to his aches.

Eventually, he opened his eyes, and looked around the room. Besides Rinzler, it was empty. There weren't any windows, and Ed couldn't figure out where the door had disappeared into the wall.

He glanced to Rinzler, feeling guilty that he got hurt when their escape attempt failed... twice. Both had been his idea.

"Are you..." he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "I guess okay would be a stretch, in this situation." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry getting you hurt. How are you feeling?"

/* not specifically one of the prompts from the captured meme, but inspired by it... Hope this works? --@not-that-dillinger */

Coming here turned out to be the worst of Ed's impulsive ideas, to date. Picking the lock on Flynn's arcade to go exploring? Bad impulsive decision number one. Sure, that was technically trespassing, but he was just looking around, no harm there, and that part of town had long since been abandoned, it wasn't like he was going to get caught.

In hindsight, getting caught there might have been the better outcome. Then he wouldn't have found the hidden basement, or The Computer. (And oh, wasn't that creepy. He still remembered his father's disembodied voice coming out of it. He'd had nightmares of it clear through middle school, he did not need that again.) He should have turned around and gone home, or to a bar or somewhere a reasonable person would go after a long day at the office, but no. Bad impulse decision number two: hacking into Flynn's computer. Again, technically illegal, but. Maybe he cold solve the mystery of where Flynn had disappeared to?

...And that had led directly to bad impulse decision number three: shooting himself with a high powered laser.

To his credit, Ed knew what the laser was. His father had ranted and raved about it in what seemed like fits of madness when Ed was young. But. Yeah, could have gone way worse.

Naturally, Ed's first instinct on finding himself in a strange new world was to go explore. He was used to being cautious, aware of his surroundings when he was out, and quickly realized someone was following him. He tried to lose them in the not-so-dark alleys of the glowing city, taking turns at random until--

--he'd turned a corner and came face to face with five others, all wearing masks, and realized he'd walked right into their trap. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was one of the programs throwing something small and round at him, and the thick white smoke it emitted.

...

He awoke in a cell, some time later. At first, he tried to just... sit and observe, figure out where he was, and who had captured him, and why.

Except, there wasn't much beyond the two guards posted at the end of the connecting hallway, and it didn't take long before his claustrophobia made him feel anxious.

"Hey!" he screamed at the guards. "Let me out!!!"

The guard made a gesture that Ed couldn't quite see, but could safely assume was rude.

Ed continued to scream at the guards, because there wasn't much else he could do. He may have been trapped, but they also stuck with him.

Except it turned out, the guards could do something about that, and one of them marched over opened the cell, and--

--Oh. They had staves.

Ed lay in his cell, some time later, out of breath and everything aching. He was certain he had a cracked rib, if not more. And a broken nose from the way it was bleeding.

And broken glasses.

It was some time later that Ed heard footsteps approaching his cell. Everything still hurt, but he hauled himself to his feet anyway. "Come back for round two, asshole?" he asked.

In response, the guard disabled the force field that enabled his cell, and shoved someone else inside.

Then they reactivated the force field, and walked away.

Ed sighed, and sank back down in his corner heavily. He eyed the blur of his fellow prisoner warily.

Rinzler hit the ground hard, barely managing to cover his helmet with his arms to avoid it getting even more damaged. One of the guards had decided to use Rinzler’s helmet as an emotional outlet after he had gotten a nasty hit in on one of them. Any assistive programming in their helmet was completely offline and the glass had multiple cracks with a few bits missing from the back as well.

Usually, Rinzler would have turned and grabbed the guard’s ankle before they could leave. Would have tackled the program and forced them to guide him to the exit or derezzed them with his claws if the guard refused. But it wasn’t just a shattered helmet and pounding head that was keeping Rinzler down. His captors had latched a bizarre mechanism over his disc and dock that made his whole body ache and every move just seemed to make the mechanism dig in even more. It was frustrating and humiliating beyond belief to be thrown into this cell like a helpless beta, they were supposed to be better than this. Not to fall for some poor young program that had been forced to act as bait. They should have seen through it. Rinzler swore to themself that they would derezz every single one of those who had done this.

When the blurry room finally stopped spinning Rinzler was just able to focus enough to hear the sound of ragged breathing above his own broken clicking purr. He wasn’t alone. The Enforcer looked up towards the sound, spying the blurry figure. They couldn’t see any bit of light on the figure that could indicate their alliance, in fact they couldn’t see any circuitry at all.

“Identify, program.” Rinzler shakily pushed himself up into a sitting position, keeping his gaze on the figure in case this was just another trap.

@not-that-dillinger

#/* no worries on the time! rl gets to us all sometimes. */ #/* the island's name is probably a product of Boole's ego and the fanatics that follow him. */ #rp #muse: ed dillinger jr #rp-042 #enforcerrinzler

[not-that-dillinger]

✆- What your muse’s phone gallery is filled with?

‽- Something your muse has problem in understanding

⋆- Your muse’s future dream and why

✆ ...Nothing. Ed uses one of those cheap phones with a slide out keyboard because he doesn't like how easy it is to track smartphones, and the camera quality on that thing is... not worth it. He does have a dslr and an instant film camera though, and both are a mix of nature photos from hikes around the area, Pigeons (both fancy and feral), and a couple pictures of his interns at a tech conference. If you go back far enough, there's a number of pictures of a woman in drag with two other guys and a small child with curly blonde hair.

‽ That not everyone will judge him based on his father's actions, or why anyone would want to. help him. Be friends with him... And Romance. Does not understand that at all. Or what 'Hot' means when describing a person.

⋆He really just wants to be safe, and maybe have a family to call his own. Not a romantic partner, but maybe a queerplatonic one. Or a friend that he can call at 3AM when he's going through it. Why? Ed is lonely. He's isolated from most people. But then again, most people make assumptions because of his name and because of things that were not his fault, so it's difficult to trust people enough to actually let them see him. And... there's a reason he clings to his job so desperately. It is what allowed him to escape the abusive situation he grew up in, but his father still wants to control him and has only become more bitter with time. He knows he's in a precarious situation. Mackey likes to point fingers when things go wrong, and Ed's "connection" to their biggest competitor makes him an easy target. If he loses his job, the only place he will inevitably end up working at is fCon. He's a liability to any company large enough to stand up to his father, and fCon could very easily buy out any smaller company that would be ecstatic to have Ed.

#the void screams back #thanks for the ask! #sanitizedagent8 #edcanons

[not-that-dillinger]

Ed watched on in curiosity, quietly reading over her shoulder, from a short distance away. He could read most of the code, though some of the functions were depreciated from what was currently used, and hadn't been used... since he was nine, when Sam's father went missing, he realized.

Rather than being startled, he was intrigued by the little spider-like creature that seemed to spawn out of the code. He almost laughed, realizing it was the physical manifestation of a bug in Sam's code.

And then...

Oh.

...and then he he recognized the movement, Sam reaching for the disc on her back. It was the same thing she'd done the second time they'd met, when he startled her, except this time she had a weapon, and...

Ed did not flinch.

Watching the shoes... compile? was fascinating. The possibilities of the Grid were nearly endless here.

"Thanks," Ed responded, accepting the shoes and putting them on. They fit comfortably.

He followed Sam through the city, watching everything with quiet fascination. Everything. The motorcycles, the buildings, and the flying contraptions up ahead that he vaguely recognized from the faded billboard above the Arcade... or the version that the Grid was housed in.

...He had so many ideas.

Despite that, he remained stiff, and practically tense until they were back inside, and away from the programs that he seemed to catch the attention of.

The building's interior reminded him so much of Encom Tower, he almost swore if he went down one corridor, he'd find Alan Bradley, or if he went down several floors, he'd find the rest of his team.

Back at Encom, the space they were currently in would have been Mackey's, though he suspected here, it was... probably Sam's? He turned, glancing around the room, and freezing when he caught the view through the window.

It was even more stunning from the top of the tower.

Ed turned to Sam with a polite smile. "I made it," he agreed. "...just needed a minute." He accepted her hand as he pushed himself to his feet.

The wave of vertigo that accompanies the movement was familiar. Whether it's a side-effect of the digitization process or an omen of what the rest of his weekend will look like if he didn't monitor his activity, Ed wasn't sure. He stiffened, squeezed his eyes shut, and focused on the feeling of the ground beneath his feet in an effort to not collapse. The vertigo only lasted a few seconds, though it felt longer, but eventually it did, and he opened his eyes again and forced his muscles to relax.

He remained quiet for a moment, considering how to answer Sam's question. "I am alright," he said. Unharmed by the digitization process, even if still coming over the shock of seeing the computer again.

He caught sight of the other person--program--in the arcade, someone who looked startlingly like Alan in the old news articles except for the scar on his face. Even if Ed had never played the older Flynn's games, the insignia on the program's chest was immediately recognizable. It took every bit of will to keep his posture relaxed, but with a little focus and effort, he managed, and turned his focus back to Sam.

"Everything go alright for you here?" he asked.

#/* I’m so asexual that shoe size thing actually went straight over my head and I fucking wrote it lol */ #/* <- that makes four of us (I think? At least three... both muns and at least Ed... IDK about you but I hc Sam as aroace) lol */ #/* I just unfortunately am too exposed to that sort of humor... not really mine though */ #/* I don't recall if the tower had a name? */ #/* sorry Ed is being difficult right now... */ #rp #muse: ed dillinger jr #rp-047 #iamnoprogram

[not-that-dillinger]

/* ...So... Ed's fantasy AU has consumed my brain the past... week? Less? Something like that. So... Have... A Thing. IDK what it is but it sure is words. Presenting... */

What's Past Is Prologue

Or: A prelude to Ed's Fantasy AU

Act I Scene 1

Ed curled around Eos's cold, dormant form in a bed that was barely big enough for the both of them. Pale moonlight glinted off his warforged companion's body, and Ed could almost pretend it was the glow of the Spark that gave his creation life. He lay awake, back to the wall the tiny bed was pushed against, watching the door opposite him in the dark. Eos would have told him to sleep, but fear of an attack in his sleep--from his father's forces whom he'd fled from, or from those of the Alan Bradley, Duke of Torvaldia, whose hospitality he was at the mercy of--and the unfamiliarity of his surroundings made rest difficult, despite the exhaustion. He hadn't slept much in over a month, and Ed feared what would happen when exhaustion finally won out and forced him to sleep.

His new quarters were... nice, all things considered. They were small; much smaller than what he had grown up with, smaller than the Duke's, or the young king and Duke's ward's, but he had sleeping quarters connected to another chamber for receiving guests. The sheets on his bed weren't quite as warm or soft as what he'd had before, but getting that sort of quality was difficult, even for a master weaver. He had a nearly empty set of drawers to store the single change of clothes and few possessions he came with, and a window with a view of the city. He could tell the window was magically reinforced from the slight distortion of the view. It would take the force of a heavy siege cannon to break the it. Still, his current accommodations were oddly comfortable, given his situation, and Ed couldn't be picky. It certainly beat the dungeon cell he'd been confined to the past week, or napping on the ground wherever he could find decent cover like he had for the month prior. Ed wasn't sure if his current situation was better than his previous one or not.

It was still a prison, gilded in gold, just like the one he'd fled from over a month ago.

He curled tighter around the dull metal shell that had been his friend and constant companion the past five years, and the reason he'd fled the comfort of his own home. He wouldn't mind captivity so much, or the humiliation of begging his father's enemy for asylum, only to be thrown in the dungeon, if Eos was still active and safe. Ed could, of course, revive his creation, if only he had his loom.

Except he had destroyed it before he fled, and he doubted the Duke would allow him to build a new one.

That the Duke allowed him to keep his Eos's dormant shell might have been a small kindness, but it felt like a cruel taunt. All he had was a hollow metal shell, and the fear that his warden would take that away as well.

Eventually, restlessness forced Ed out of his bed. He paced the length of the room several times, then cautiously perched on the window sill, and stared out across the city. Somewhere, out beyond the city wall, were the ruins of a tower on a small island in the middle of a lake. "A few hours' ride," the Duke had said, "though it will take a few months to make it a suitable living space."

A suitable prison to contain an artificer, Ed had no doubt.

The city was silent, only a few guards on patrol out in the streets.

...And a lone cloaked figure, hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley. Ed leaned in, intrigued. What were they up to? They were facing the mouth of the alley, face tilted up, as though watching the sky.

Not the sky, he realized, his eyes meeting the mysterious figure's. Him.

Ed threw himself backward away from the window, his heartbeat drumming rapidly in his throat. He yelped as he stumbled backward into the bed, and fell over Eos. The metallic sound of his creation's empty shell echoed through the room like that of a gong.

The door opened, and light flooded the room.

"Prince Edward?"

Ed tensed, then turned over quickly and wrapped his arms around his creation.

"Is everything alright?" Ed hesitantly looked up and squinted in the blinding light at the guard hovering over him, the hand not holding the lantern at the hilt of his sword.

Gawain, if Ed remembered correctly. He glanced back toward the window.

Gawain dimmed the light on his lantern, and furrowed his brow in confusion. "Did you see something out the window?" He hesitantly stepped toward the window to check it out. "I don't see anything out there, your highness," he said after a minute.

Ed rolled off of Eos, off of the bed and onto his feet. He hesitantly approached the window, attempting to keep his distance between himself and Gawain.

The alley where the cloaked figure had been was empty.

Ed stared out the window, frantic to find where they had went, but he couldn't find them.

"Get some rest, your highness," Gawain said. "You are perfectly safe here." He moved toward the bed, toward Eos, and Ed dived for the dormant warforged, wrapping his arms around his creation, desperate to not let anyone take Eos away from him again. Gawain froze and stared at him with a look of confusion. "Very well, Prince Edward. Sleep well." He slipped back out of the room and shut the door behind him, leaving Ed once more in darkness.

Ed climbed in bed, and curled around Eos.

Sleep, however, did not come.

#/* there will be more...*/ #/* As a note: Ed's perception of what's going on is... based on what he knows but he does not know everything about his situation*/ #prelude to ed's fantasy au #ed's fantasy au #musings: ed

[not-that-dillinger]

Ed met Pari's eyes, and smiled. "Thanks. And...same to you, especially with the shellfish."

Ed sighed. He shook his head. Better not to dwell on those memories, especially if he wanted to be able to go back to his room and sleep when they got back to the hotel.

"Anyway... Places... Anywhere you recommend checking out while I'm in town?"

/* ...I have no idea where this is going, but *drops Ed at Pari's feet like a soaping wet kitten* lets see what happens... —@not-that-dillinger */

Ed only meant to find somewhere he could sit undisturbed for a while and get lost in code until his his anxiety had run its course. Ideally somewhere that wasn't his hotel room (too dangerous to be alone in his current state), or the hotel's lobby, where the rest of his coworkers who had been drafted into this trip were chatting over a late night drink.

He'd roamed the streets (streets that reminded him vaguely of the one's he'd explored with his grandmother, the one time he and his father had visited when he was young) until he found the bar. The sound of laughter and the warm orange light from within were inviting, and on wandering in, the barkeep seemed friendly enough, and he quickly found himself planted at a table in the back with a glass of "whatever was gluten free" and his computer.

Between the alcohol easing his anxiety and the the exhaustion of the past sixteen hours (reliving memories of his father dragging him through the airport, the feeling of trapped on the airplane preventing him from getting any sleep, and being greeted with Mackey insinuating Ed was committing corporate sabotage in an email chain once he had a chance to check in after the whole ordeal of the Trans-Atlantic flight) finally catching up with him, it wasn't long before he crashed, slumped over the table with his head resting on his keyboard.

@not-that-dillinger

Pari on the other hand was as busy as ever. She'd been working the later shift when she'd seen him stumbling in and ordering something from one of her colleagues.

However it was her that was left with the closing down shift.

She'd been trying to gently encourage the stragglers out, but on realising that he wasn't moving, Pari gently tried to wake up the sleeping individual.

"Psst. Hey! Hey, sleepyhead. We're closing now. Wanna pack up and head off home?"

She said with a friendly tone of voice, trying not to be her usual boisterous self.

#rp #muse: ed dillinger jr #rp-037 #the-expatriate

[not-that-dillinger]

"Ah. I... think I understand," Ed said. Today was a lot, and this place can be... overstimulating compared to the other side of the screen." Ed glanced back at the terminal Eve and Clu were on, and then the laser. "You have every right to be angry about what happened, though I tend to find that exhaustion amplifies emotions, and distance tends to help with with perspective... In this case temporal distance. I guess what I'm suggesting is... get some rest, lot those processes run in the background, and reassess tomorrow? I could tell about the shenanigans Eve and I used to get up to, if a distraction would help you relax for the night?"

Ed took a tentative step toward the terminal, then stopped, and glanced first at the laser, then at the camera he knew his mother was watching them through.

"Just gonna let Eve know everyone arrived an' say g'night?" he said hesitantly. "Promise."

Ed nodded. "Alright, I'll see you then."

He could feel the heat on his face from flushing at the complement, unused to receiving one and unsure what to do with it.

Now would be a good time to be shot by the laser or otherwise disappear.

It didn't help that he could tell Alan genuinely meant it, either. Thinly veiled insults, he could handle. His work was the one thing he prided himself in above all else; there was a reason he was a lead on Encom's flagship product, and a reason he managed to hold on to his position despite the accusations. He knew the value of his work (way more than Mackey payed him, even with the bonus provided granted by his position on the board).

"Thank you, you too?" he finally managed to say, unable to meet Alan's eyes. "...Anyway, have a good night, and... hope your appointment goes well tomorrow."

He turned to Nitro, expression softening with understanding. "Of course," he said. "I understand. I know it's probably a bit overwhelming."

Ed paused for a moment, then pulled his keys out of his pocket, and removed a small clip with his other two thumb drives on it. He took the two drives off, added them to another clip with a few keys, and returned everything to his pocket but the empty clip.

"Here," he said, offering the carabiner to Nitro. "I know it doesn't change the situation, but... it's one thing to keep track of instead of four?"

#rp #muse: ed dillinger jr #rp-026 #evecolourshock

[not-that-dillinger]

"Not everything," Ed admitted, "but enough that someone can read it and have a decent understanding of the subject."

Ed paused and put the book back on the shelf. "As far as misinformation..sometimes it's that people don't know better, other times someone with malicious intent is trying to fulfill and agenda. Don't get me wrong, a lot of what's out there is factual, but the Internet's free and open. Anyone can put anything out there, and there's no practical way of curating it. Which means it's up to whoever's viewing the site to use their critical thinking skills to determine whether a site is trustworthy."

He watched Ark pet the birds, suddenly aware of how incredibly domestic the situation was. It was nice.

"I think we're ready to go," Ed replied, mentally running through his morning checklist as he closed the door to the bird cage. "Just need to grab the keys, put on shoes, and then we can get out of here. First stop is... probably the mall, to get you clothes to call your own, any other necessities for living out here that I can remember... and probably a phone in case we get separated and you need to contact me."

((This is a companion piece to this thread.))

[Side B: Rescue]

Haste was the word of the cycle and Ark moved quicker than ever.

Her and her lightcycle flew across the Outlands and straight for Tron City, making up for the time she had lost while she was out.

As she traveled, deep underneath the surface of the Outlands, one Gridbug, out of many, became poisoned for no discernable reason.

Ark knew where the Occupation had most likely taken Ed, and the increased guards around the building confirmed her suspicions.

She remained stealthy as long as possible, revealing herself only when she could sneak no further.

Ark fought her way through the building, alarms blaring as she took on multiple Sentries at a time. The narrow hallways worked in her favor, as only a few Sentries could approach her at a time, so she was never outnumbered in a way she couldn't handle.

It took all of Ed's will not to shrink back from Clu as the guards brought him to the tyrant.

Clu grinned like a Cheshire cat. Whatever he had planned for Ed, it was certainly much worse than what he had just been through. It looked like Clu wanted to say something. Probably to intimidate Ed, play with him before doing... whatever.

Ed had plenty of experience of taking control of situations. He also knew how to be a menace.

Beat Clu to the punch. Hit him where it hurt.

Ed opened his mouth, but before either of them could say anything, the sound of fighting came from the hallway.

Ark?

Ed had no idea if it was her or not, but if there was fighting coming this way, it was likely they were coming for him. At the very least, fighting meant they were against the occupation, and thus a potential ally.

Ed twisted sharply, then dropping down to break free of his captors. He backed away, and pulled off one of his boots. It was hefty; much heavier than his loafers.

Ed chucked it, then the other, at Clu.

Without waiting to see if either hit their mark, Ed turned and ran.

Behind him, there was the heavy thud of one of the boots hitting the ground, and an angered, pained roar from Clu. He approached the fight as cautiously as possible, while also not loosing speed. (The guard or Clu catching hi would not end well, an he most certainly would not get another chance to escape.)

He sighed with relief when he recognized Ark's lightcycle.

#/* ...there should probably be a bit there about... Ed going to brush his teeth etc but I don't really feel like writing that... */ #/* so skipping it and pretending it happened */ #rp #muse: ed dillinger jr #rp-028 #computerwarrior

[not-that-dillinger]

1. is your muse able to keep a secret?

3. how skilled is your muse at communication? 

5. are there any fears your muse still holds from childhood? 

6. what is something that ticks your muse off, no matter what?

11. how often does your muse cry? do they cry silently, privately, or out in the open?

16. is your muse argumentative? if not, what is a topic they feel strongly enough about to argue for?

1: Yes.

3: I think Ed is pretty good at it, particularly public speaking type things.

5: ...Does his father count? Related to that, the desk that used to be Sr's when he was CEO of Encom (specifically, the MCP in it). He's mostly gotten over it since he hasn't seen it in several decades, but if it ever shows up again it WILL spook him...

6: Mackey. Lying. Manipulative assholes and child abuse. Diminishing his and his team's work and effort (think, "we put a twelve on the box"). Ed is very much like Scotty is about the Enterprise in Star Trek (see The Trouble With Tribbles) when it comes to his projects.

11: Not very often, and usually silently somewhere hidden. He's more likely to cry from someone doing something kind for him. Insult him, tell him he's just like his father, and you'll barely get a reaction out of him. Give him a hug on one of his worse days, and he'll quickly become a sobbing mess.

16: Ed tends to choose his battles, though he can be stubborn at times. That being said... he has Opinions about what an OS should look like and data security.

#the void screams back #thanks for the ask! #sanitizedagent8 #musings: ed

[not-that-dillinger]

Anna Haifisch

#musings: ed

[not-that-dillinger]

"I try not to be too fussy about where I stay, just... too many bad memories of similar places, too," Ed admitted. "I know it's not actually as terrible as I make it out to be. Just... that and it's been a day."

He looked up at her in surprise. "Yeah, Crustaceans specifically, among other things.... And Celiacs, which is a whole other can of whales."

/* ...I have no idea where this is going, but *drops Ed at Pari's feet like a soaping wet kitten* lets see what happens... —@not-that-dillinger */

Ed only meant to find somewhere he could sit undisturbed for a while and get lost in code until his his anxiety had run its course. Ideally somewhere that wasn't his hotel room (too dangerous to be alone in his current state), or the hotel's lobby, where the rest of his coworkers who had been drafted into this trip were chatting over a late night drink.

He'd roamed the streets (streets that reminded him vaguely of the one's he'd explored with his grandmother, the one time he and his father had visited when he was young) until he found the bar. The sound of laughter and the warm orange light from within were inviting, and on wandering in, the barkeep seemed friendly enough, and he quickly found himself planted at a table in the back with a glass of "whatever was gluten free" and his computer.

Between the alcohol easing his anxiety and the the exhaustion of the past sixteen hours (reliving memories of his father dragging him through the airport, the feeling of trapped on the airplane preventing him from getting any sleep, and being greeted with Mackey insinuating Ed was committing corporate sabotage in an email chain once he had a chance to check in after the whole ordeal of the Trans-Atlantic flight) finally catching up with him, it wasn't long before he crashed, slumped over the table with his head resting on his keyboard.

@not-that-dillinger

Pari on the other hand was as busy as ever. She'd been working the later shift when she'd seen him stumbling in and ordering something from one of her colleagues.

However it was her that was left with the closing down shift.

She'd been trying to gently encourage the stragglers out, but on realising that he wasn't moving, Pari gently tried to wake up the sleeping individual.

"Psst. Hey! Hey, sleepyhead. We're closing now. Wanna pack up and head off home?"

She said with a friendly tone of voice, trying not to be her usual boisterous self.

#rp #muse: ed dillinger jr #rp-037 #the-expatriate

[not-that-dillinger]

#tw blood #tw death #...tw-ing this feels slightly extreme but I'm paranoid #musings: ed #ed art alert ed art alert #I can't stop laughing at this #Ed's expression is hilarious #Rinzler just... asgbdaf #cipher this feels like it's 100% accurate to the relationship between our muses #(I love your absolute gremlin Rinzler portrayal) #tron fanart #other's art

[not-that-dillinger]

@electricea asked: 16. Could you kill someone if it meant protecting yourself or someone else? (For Ed?)

"If it was necessary to protect those I care about, then yes, though I hope I never have to."

/* Ed isn't likely to come out of a fight unscathed, but he absolutely HAS killed to protect those he cares about. One specific case that comes to mind is a thread some time back with @lucky-dyse back when he was rping Alan Bradley. Ed has a thirteen year old kid who goes by Beowulf and shows up occasionally in threads. Alan witnessed Ed kill a man who threatened Beowulf.

If Ed could kill to protect himself, he would not be in his current predicament. And considering that he's convinced the only way he'll ever be safe is when his abusive father is dead... he probably could in very extreme situations, but only in the most unlikely. If we were talking statistics, we'd be talking ten standard deviations extreme (very tail ends of the bell curve) */

#the voice from the void #edcanons

[not-that-dillinger]

...That barely made sense. They all knew they were there because Ed couldn't be alone, because he'd been spooked and-- He doubted he'd ever understand it. He wished he could accept it, but the voice in the back of his mind kept whispering traitorously otherwise.

"Alright," he acquiesced. He stepped into the kitchen, and retrieved a collection of mugs from the cabinet and the mesh infusers to go with them.

He then pulled out a wooden tray with a collection of tins of loose tea with clear lids, the contents of the jars labeled on the side, and brought it back to the living room to see what his mother wanted.

...And Sam, if his brother was awake, and... he should also see if Beck wanted anything... and see if Tron wanted something else or if he was still okay with water.

Ed blinked up at Jet's blurry face as he approached, then cautiously reached for a his glasses once Sam was off of him managing to locate them by touch alone without accidentally hitting the plate.

He stared between Jet and the plate, struggling to process why anyone would make him... anything, if he was honest. Cooking--working with his hands to calm down--Ed could understand. Taking anger out on the vegetables, too. He could understand teaching Beck, too, but the thought of someone--even his brothers--cooking for him?

He gave Jet a small, awkward smile. "Thank you?" he all but whispered, his throat dry and voice raspy. Anything louder would probably still be too much.

#''every single one of you is stubborn'' says the man who'd show up to work after breaking every bone in his body #/*<- you're not wrong. but also: case and point. Every. Single. One. (Even if Ed still refuses to admit Bradley Clan includes him) */ #/* ...oh now I have another idea... */ #/* *holds breath* I'm not going to write another au I am not going to write another au I am not going to... --coffee-- tea shop au? */ #rp #muse: ed dillinger jr #rp-041 #evecolourshock

[not-that-dillinger]

"They're doing alright," Ed reported. "Eve's fine, all but made herself at home on a nearly empty system. Clu is... well, he's stable for now, but getting him to a point where he he can go back to the Grid will take time..."

He sighed. "I know he's done a lot of bad things. I can't ask you to ignore that and I won't pretend he hasn't either... but... the more time I spend with him, the more I realize he's never really been given a chance, and the more I want to tear the idiot that wrote him a new one for being so thoughtlessly cruel."

Or, in the words that he'd overheard one of his interns say about someone who no longer worked at the company 'beat that pendejo over the head with a chancla.'

"...I don't think I asked," he said apologetically. "How are you?"

Ed nodded. "Alright, I'll see you then."

He could feel the heat on his face from flushing at the complement, unused to receiving one and unsure what to do with it.

Now would be a good time to be shot by the laser or otherwise disappear.

It didn't help that he could tell Alan genuinely meant it, either. Thinly veiled insults, he could handle. His work was the one thing he prided himself in above all else; there was a reason he was a lead on Encom's flagship product, and a reason he managed to hold on to his position despite the accusations. He knew the value of his work (way more than Mackey payed him, even with the bonus provided granted by his position on the board).

"Thank you, you too?" he finally managed to say, unable to meet Alan's eyes. "...Anyway, have a good night, and... hope your appointment goes well tomorrow."

He turned to Nitro, expression softening with understanding. "Of course," he said. "I understand. I know it's probably a bit overwhelming."

Ed paused for a moment, then pulled his keys out of his pocket, and removed a small clip with his other two thumb drives on it. He took the two drives off, added them to another clip with a few keys, and returned everything to his pocket but the empty clip.

"Here," he said, offering the carabiner to Nitro. "I know it doesn't change the situation, but... it's one thing to keep track of instead of four?"

#rp #muse: ed dillinger jr #rp-026 #evecolourshock

[not-that-dillinger]

Being each other's safe space while dealing with life.>>>

#this is ed with a lot of people #it's who he wants to be #because he's gone a long time without anyone or anywhere to truly call safe #and he doesn't want anyone else to go through that

[not-that-dillinger]

THUD! (for @riinzler i forgot to clarify 😅)

"...Ow..." Ed groused. For a moment, he continued to lay flat on the tile floor, steeling himself against the dull ache to his forehead. At least the tile beneath him was cool against his skin.

...That was going to leave a bump, and he may have given himself a concussion. He'd have to check that.

A moment later--several seconds, or maybe a minute, he couldn't tell--he registered an unknown sound, that seemed garbled like a broken computer. It took him a moment to realize Rinzler was laughing.

Gingerly, he managed to get his hands under him and push himself into a sitting position, his expression scrunched in pain, jaw clenched to hold in the groan from the rest of his body aching in protest from the fall, and eyes shut against the sudden wave of vertigo from the effort to sit up.

He forced himself to take a deep breath to steady himself, and opened his eyes, instantly locking on Rinzler. "So you do have a sense of humor," he said. "Why am I not surprised your entire sense of humor is schadenfreude?"

He glanced around the room for a moment for something to help him pull himself to his feet, then sighed. He would probably just fall over and hit his head again if he tried to get up.

"...I... don't suppose you would be kind enough to get me some ice in a towel?" he asked. He doubted Rinzler would do it, but he might as well ask anyway. "...looks like I've got..." he forced himself to take another deep breath in attempt to ease the pain "...mandatory reacquainting with the floor for the next few."

#/* no worries I gotcha! */ #thanks for the ask! #sanitizedagent8 #rp