Knock knock [Eddy!]

[Deleted]

Most people went to the forges for a reason. Which Ethan supposed he did have one to some degree, but it wasn’t really one that many would call legitimate. It was, quite simply, to bother the main resident – or close enough to a resident – of the forges, Mr Edmund Simons. That kid really needed to smile more. Or show signs of life more. He wasn’t sure how anyone could live life with no human contact and no fun and all that sort of stuff that made Ethan, well, Ethan. And he was fully certain that is was a life necessity for everyone else. Even if they didn’t realize it, like this poor boy. Hence why he was taking it upon himself to go visit the lad. Yes, his new name for Eddy would be ‘lad’. So what if he wasn’t Scottish, it worked.

So! Off to see the wizard (the wonderful wizard of oz). Who wasn’t actually a wizard, but who was really counting. Which brought him to where he was now, popping his head in the ajar door of the forge. Gods, it was hot as blazes in here! But he was on a mission, and this would go well. So he strolled in, immediately wishing he had a personal AC device or something. After all, those little oriental fans just didn’t flatter his figure. It would still be nice right about now though. But he carried on. “Eddy!? Edicus Maximus!? Wherefore art thou, Laddy?” Which was probably the most confusing and make-ed-mad-ening set of statements in the world. Ah well. That’s what he was here for.

Though while he looked, he might as well, well, look around! So that was just what he did. There were lot of things in here that looked like they would be downright dangerous in the hands of the right Ethan. And he just so happened to be the right Ethan. So he picked up the first thing that caught his eye, and to be honest, he had no idea what it was. Looked like an augur – haha, augur – of some kind, all twisty and kind of sharp. Just the sort of thing that should not be in the hands of Ethan Hunter. And yet, alas, there it rested. Ah well, he blamed Eddikins McTwisterpants for not being present. How rude of him not to be here when he dropped in uninvited.

Tag: Eddy!!
Word Count: 402
Notes: pathetically short, sorry. but gets the job done, right? lol

[Deleted]

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Edmund wasn't in the forge. Surprise, surprise! No, no. Edmund Simons wasn't in the forge. He was actually only a mere 20 or so yards away... in the armory, which was an extension of the forge (or vise versa) via a door and a wall separating the two. Well, at least when he was under thirteen he could walk into the armory to get Legion-necessary-for-survival items (aka swords, shields, and armor) without having to walk through the forge. That was probably the only reason he didn't have a heart attack his first week of camp. Oh wait! Never mind. There was also the fact that the old medic hadn't cared if Ed showed for his annual physicals. That delayed the heart attack too. But that had changed since Kyoto came to power. There went his ability to skip out of infirmary visits. Now he was on biweekly appointments with medicine everyday in hopes to correct his shrunk rib. That ambrosia and nectar had better work hard. Edmund didn't want another surgery for the rest of his life.

He focused his attention back to the WIP table that he was working on. It was the same exact pile that Warlow had seen him work on. Granted, it was a bit smaller, but the grand pile and then the sub piles were still just the same. Over the years he had slowly been deconstructing, sorting, and fixing items in it "in his free time". Besides, if it got dumped here, it was public property; not to mention the fact that most of the things here looked like they hadn't been touched in months, at the best a few weeks. If the people didn't want them, it all went to Ed and his sorting system: weapons to fix... projects to deconstruct... yup. Ed's definition of "fun". Better they get turned into things and projects that people around the Legion could actually use rather than lay here, useless on the table.

His calm of rhythmic sorting got interrupted by what could only be something comparable (to his ears) to a bugle call with all the wrong notes and wrong pitches. Seriously, even if Metal Bird was broken, it could have sounded better than that. This unpleasant sound of noise was, of course, the calling of various names that, to some extent, related to his name: Ed. Eddy. Edicus Maximus. Really? And Laddy. Dear gods above! If it was anything he hated, it was endearing nicknames. Right now, whoever the about-to-become-unfortunate camper was sounded like he wanted to get on the forge monkey's bad side. The nicknames weren't "endearing" (save the first one), so Ed didn't care. He could honestly care less about name calling these days since he had gone through near to all of them already. It was just the guy's voice that was repeatedly annoying. Edmund rolled his eyes, grabbed the pile of weapons that he had made from the WIP table and trudged into the forge. "Heard you the first time," he said with his usual, flat voice. "He's not here," he accentuated, putting down his pile on his work table. His dark, blank brown eyes glanced at the sharp weapon in the goofy boy's hand. It didn't look like the best combination to him; the other male would probably realize that when and if he cut himself.

OOC: No, no, your post was lovely dear <3
IC: 540

[Deleted]

Ethan was not one easily shaken from a goal. Especially if said goal was to bother someone such as poor little Eddikins who needed all the help he could get in the friendly-happy department. So here he was, wandering around and poking around the forge to the tune of him calling out as many strange nicknames as he could come up with for the little forge monkey. Give him time and he was sure he could come up with a whole encyclopedia of names. It would be like the book on things to name your kid if you liked the name Edmund but didn’t actually want the name Edmund. Or something like that. Which would be an awful book title, come to think of it. They didn’t really write those thirty word titles anymore it seemed. He had read once about books from the like 1500s or something and those ones usually had ridiculous titles. Did they have to give the entire thesis statement in the title. It was usually almost a full sentence!

And speak of the devil who was not really the devil because that was morbid. There he was! “And there he is! Man of the hour! Aw, come on, Edicus, you’re not fooling me! I know that happy little face when I see it! Who doesn’t? What’s this by the way?” he asked rapid fire and held up the tool for Ed to see. Not that he hadn’t already. He had caught Ed eyeing him like he was a toddler with a chainsaw. Which, arguably, he probably looked like. This augur thing was big! And he wasn’t an especially large person. In fact, he was scrawny and a bit short. “This is one of those hole… drill… sorta… things. Right? You know what I mean. I don’t know my tool jargon.” Jargon. That was a fun word. Like floccinaucinihilipilification, which was possibly his favorite word in the whole world. The estimation of something as valueless. Not too pleasant, but it sounded funny and had a ridiculous amount of letters, so it was totally good by his book. He set the tool down. “So, I was thinking. You. Me. Hanging out. Fun times. What do you say, buddio? Oh, hey, you ever sneak out? There’s this theme part I always go to that should be opening up soon and you look like you could use some cotton candy.”.

Tag: Edmund
Word Count: 401
Notes: pathetically short, but was in a time and muse crunch

[Deleted]

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Edmund didn't need (much less wanted) help in the "let's get happy, hold hands, sing kumbaya and smile" department. Most of camp got the picture after one or two run ins with him. Most, not all, unfortunately. Then came the minority of idiots who decided to stick around, digging their grave in Edmund's list of people he hated. He was an antisocial, emotionless jerk and near to full time forge monkey for a reason. He couldn't stand people; that part was pretty obvious. It didn't exactly put them in good standings when they started talking to him just to talk. Taking that knowledge, imagine a person who came into the forge specifically with the purpose to annoy Ed by calling him nearly every nickname that he could possibly pull out of the name "Edmund". That person's standings: not good, going down the tubes at an alarming rate. And so, those were the beginning standings of Ethan Hunter. A mentally five year old who looked like he came out of clown training; who was now handling a really sharp tool.

Camp really had to stop letting in happy go luckies, hypers, and happy people. They could seriously get hurt themselves here; if not by themselves, by other people. If they wanted to be happy, they could go to Manhattan. He was pretty sure the Greeks would appreciate their sense of humor. The forge boy took a few miscellaneous, metal shapes from the pile that he had brought in from the armory and inspected them. He only paused for a moment and looked up as the other male asked a specific question. "Drill," Edmund answered shortly before going back to work. Ed had opted to ignore the first two or three sentences out of the boy's mouth. No reason to waste breath on it. He glanced up slightly, taking another look at the drill in Hunter's hand. Yup, that was a drill alright; the guy had gotten it right the second time. Ed had honestly never used/been into the power tools. Too many sparks involved. The only tool he used that produced sparks was the grinding stone. Even at that, Edmund had recently mandated an order that a radius space of three yards had to be cleared around the stone at all times. It was probably the only neat/clean corner of the forge.

Then came the next barge of sentences. Edmund took the metal scraps and dropped them into a tissue box like structure that was behind his bench. It slowly grew in vertical height (now more resembling a shredder with a wider opening) in order to fit some of the scraps and meet Ed half way. Meet Cineribus (no, no, not a scale model of Pluto's Cerebus made of Cinnabons, but a mechanism that would incinerate anything it could get it's blades on). It was one of Ed's newer inventions: one that shredded and melted metal (or anything really) to be reused again. He had started making it after his recent OCD-ness with the WIP/Dump tables in the armory. And then, finally, the talking ceased. Edmund looked at him and said the one word that could simply and directly answer everything that the hyperactive boy had just asked him: "No."

OOC: Totally okay <3
Sorry you have like... two words to work with >.> *smacks Ed*
IC: 540

[Deleted]

Ethan grinned when Edmund spoke and told him the name of the tool. “Oh hey! I got it right! Look at that! Score one for Ethan!” He set the tool aside and picked up another one. “Now this is a hammer. I know that one. I may not be a mechanic, but I do know some of this stuff.” He looked over to Ed and noticed he wasn’t paying attention. So he did the only natural Ethan thing there was to do: talk more. It seemed to work most of the time. And in the meanwhile, he looked around, tapping the hammer against his wrist lightly just too keep his fidgety hands occupied.

Then he realized something he’d only sort of noticed before in looking at Ed. He had more fun stuff! “Ooh, what’s that? Can I see?” He ambled over and tried to get a look. Unfortunately, Ed seemed to be way ahead of him because he dumped the lot into a tissue box. A tissue box that GREW! “Whoa, what is that thing?” The loud, somewhat unsettling grinding noise was something of an answer. So it shredded metal. Cool! Dangerous probably, but cool! He leaned in to try and see better. Which probably wasn’t a good idea either seeing as the thing was already pretty big and still making those disturbing noises. He straightened up when Ed answered his initial question. Or, rather, questions. All in one word. This kid had skill. Or something.

“Oh, well, that’s okay then,” he said, basically ignoring that Ed had declined quite obviously any form of getting along. “I’m sure we can find something. There’s bound to be something you like to do besides hanging in a place with lots of sharp objects and dangerous stuff and a box that eats people.” Okay, so it never actually ate anyone that he knew of, but it made it sound more exotic and interesting. And dangerous and like something that he shouldn’t be standing near. At all. And yet here he was, in typical intelligent Ethan style. Hey, at least he wasn’t wearing anything long that could catch on the razor sharp blades of death and doom. Like a hippie outfit. He needed one of those. With the tie dye and the bellbottoms and maybe some wicked awesome hairstyle. Speaking of which… He set the hammer down and reached out, taking some of Ed’s hair on either side of his head in his hands and holding it out straight. “You should wear an afro. You would look fantastic.” Odd comment that was completely out of the lovely rapport they had going here, but all the same. It needed to happen.

Tag: Edster!
Word Count: 446
Notes: lol all good. As long as you don’t mind a shorter reply.

[Deleted]

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In all honesty, it wasn't that hard for people to learn the names of the tools. Hang around a month or so for a few hours a day and a non forger could pick up the names of more than half the tools here. Easy. Some of them were painfully obvious: drill, hammer, screw driver... the ones that people learned in the simple mortal world. Beyond the basic tools, it got more specific and complicated. Edmund raised his eyebrows at the other male's slight celebration. He was actually keeping count? Ugh. And some people wondered how Edmund couldn't stand it here. "Tools 101 score two," the dark haired male muttered wryly as Hunter pointed out the hammer. A hammer. He identified a hammer. He deserved a Winnie-the-Pooh sticker. Geesh! The glint of the tool as the fire reflected off of the dull stone caught Edmund's eye and he looked up. The hammer lightly making contact with the other boy's skin. It was probably out of ADHD fidgeting. Horrible Edmund would be horrible and hope that it broke a bone or something. At least it would get him out and into the infirmary. Preferably never to come to the forge again.

It was within the next few sentences that Edmund determined that this boy was semi like Lyn. Never ending curiosity and questions up the kazoo with near no breathing time for him to formulate a response until the next tirade of questions came. One of the many reasons Edmund preferred to wait until the end of people's rants to talk. Cinny detected approaching footsteps. Edmund hadn't given it eyes, but more like a bat sonar system; mostly so it wouldn't go crashing into desks or people. Then again, the more he thought about it, people crashing may have been beneficial. He could have started people bowling with Cinny, but whatever. That was his ADHD going off on a tangent. Point was that it had some sort of way to tell where and what/who things/people were. Right now, the human that was coming towards it, or more specifically his/her stepping pattern, was not on its "do not eat, do not chase" list. The machine grinded angrily, its wheels rolling forward slightly in preparation to start chasing whoever it was out of the forge. Then came his creator's flat voice: "A metal shredder." And finally a command: "Cinny, no." Cineribus' angry whirring died down slightly, but his displeased clicking continued. Not yet, Edmund mended mentally.

And the boy kept talking. Edmund semi rolled his eyes and returned to what he was working with. Seriously, no one could interpret silence and body language here. "Avoiding people," Edmund supplied as something he liked to do other than stay in the forge. Then again, staying in the forge was, in essence, trying to avoid people, but whatever. Seriously, if this dude didn't stop being annoying, Cinny would have his hand. Cineribus' first taste of human flesh; Edmund wasn't sure how he'd like it. Cinny had taken to paper, metal, and wood just fine, but Edmund had never tried human flesh. Yet. This idiot boy who had decided to annoy him could be the first if he didn't shut up. Then he had to stand his hair up. This little idiot was going to die. Ed's hands came up and went to whack Hunter's away. "Do. Not. Touch. Me," he articulated in a semi growl. Gods. How he hated this camp.

OOC: Sorry for the wait >.<
IC: 575

[Deleted]

Ethan was too preoccupied with everything going on in his strange little mind to really pay any attention to what Ed was saying. Which on one hand was probably bad because he had come here for the purpose of being nice and friendly and that sort of meant listening too. But on the same token, Ed didn’t exactly say much, so it sort of meant that there wasn’t much to listen too. And he got the general idea that Ed didn’t always want to be heard. Which would have been confirmed if he’d paid attention to notice the muttering, but he hadn’t so it wasn’t.

But back to the metal box. Normally Ethan was fine with metal boxes. Take mail boxes for instance. Take filling a mail box with shaving cream for instance. He’d done that one once. Good times, good times. Of course, his neighbor at the time hadn’t been happy. And neither had Jason when he found out that he’d missed out. But hey, what was he supposed to do while Jason was busy on the sets all the time? Fill mailboxes with shaving cream, obviously. But yes, there was a current metal box. And it did not look like a mailbox, nor did it look like a willing recipient of shaving cream. Darn. Actually, it was kind of looking more on the I would like to kill you painfully side. Ethan never much cared for that side. It was kind of… bad. But apparently Eddikins had some magic ability to command the metal box of doom. “Cinny? Is that its name? Is it short of comething?” Maybe Sir Cinders. No, that seemed much too fun a name for Edmund to give to anything. Like his tissue box that ate people. Oddly, it popped to mind Gir’s Doom Song from that Invader Zim show he only managed to see a little bit of once. That song had become his theme song for a good half dozen people here. Trouble was, singing it in his mind while they walked past didn’t exactly make for not cracking up easily. Something about Gunnar Erickson and a squeaky voice singing ‘doom doom doo-doom doom!’ did not fit together harmoniously. And come to think of it, he chuckled at the sheer thought. Which was a bad idea around Doom people.

Edmund was not one for being very chatty, was he? Which was a shame for him. Poor guy needed more friends. “Avoiding people? Well, where’s the fun in that? Don’t you do any making friends or robot wars or something like that. OH! Oh man, I bet robot wars would be a hit here. You should suggest that for the next ludii.” Speaking of games, another good one would be do not die at Edmund’s hand. Ethan thought he’d get in some practice for it now. So he held up his hands and backed up a bit. “Whoa, whoa, ok. No touchy. You’re like Kuzco or something. Got it. Hair is off limits. Anything about your person is off limits. Or Captain Cinders might be snacking on my foot or something. Got it. Deal. You know, in all reality, I should probably be training, so maybe I’ll just… mosey on out…” He pointed his thumbs back towards the door and the safety of not being in Edmund Simons’ presence. Maybe this would be a good time to leave…

Tag: EDDIKINS
Word Count: 565
Notes: sorry for the delay and was running out of bothersomeness for him to do so hope it’s ok that he’s thinking about running for it.

[Deleted]

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hahaha I had to! I LOVE YOU AND YOUR REFERENCES AB <3

As long as the little terror (okay, maybe not so little since he looked around the same age [physically] as Edmund) didn't majorly mess up the forge or majorly injure himself (so Ed wouldn't have to do the paper work), he could do whatever the heck he wanted. Sure, Hunter's curiosity could lead to a few tools being misplaced, but that was nothing compared to what some of the other idiots did to this place on any given day. Honestly, it was like no one had been taught how to clean up after their own messes; exactly why it became one of the rules in Edmund's unspoken code. When he had finally become semi alright with the forge, the state appalled him; hence, he started the nightly clean ups so (A) he could find things and (B) so that potential fire hazards were taken care of. Seriously? Did half of Fire Safety 101 go over the Camp's head? How the heck had they passed? Did they just do what most people did? Do what they had to in order to pass and then forget everything disregard the rules? This entire building was a ticking time bomb. One wrong move with one wrong thing on the ground and the entire place would become a raging inferno in five seconds flat. Edmund wasn't looking forward to being in one of those ever again.

Edmund looked down at his little (well, sometimes it was big, but now it was in it's tissue box form) all purpose shredder. Cineribus aka Cinny: his newest metal invention and closest thing that Edmund Simons could ever get to having a friend, besides his actual pets, Jadis and Ryley. After making Metal Bird, he had figured: what the heck. Metal Pet for himself, why not? Only for him, it had to be practical: so it became a shredder/forge guard. It didn't sing or anything but it sure helped half the forge by melting and remaking scrap metal, or scrap anything really, including humans. Speaking of humans, the one in the forge with him began talking again. Edmund nodded slightly to both questions; yes its name was Cinny and yes it was short for something. "Cineribus." Which, in Latin, was ashes. Kind of accurate. Cinny burned everything down and then remade it. Either that or the process could be seen as phoenix that had been reborn from the ashes. Okay. Step back there. That was a bit too metaphorical and philosophical and stuff for Ed. Blame the ADHD. But anyways: burn everything you love, then burn the ashes. That's what Edmund had basically done since he was nine. It was the best way to get rid of evidence.

The demigod stood silently as Hunter spewed out his opinions and ideas. Quite personally, Edmund found the game "Let's See If I Can Avoid People All Day" quite 'fun'. It meant that he didn't have to deal with people rambling on and on or annoying him. Robot wars? Edmund slightly raised his eyebrows. Well that was one idea for a colosseum event: have the forge program life sized robots and have them fight eachother. Then again, this was Camp Jupiter. Ed'd bet that most people would prefer live people fighting live people, challenging other people themselves, but whichever. It was an idea. Didn't mean it was going anywhere anytime fast. Edmund watched Hunter back off. Finally, something had gotten though his skull. Once again, Edmund gave a nod to answer everything and then gave a semi shrug. "Alright. Bye," he said tonelessly, turning back to his work, and not at all sad to see the other male retreating.

OOC: No, no, it's fine! Sorry for the delay here.
It's fine <3 sorry if Ed's difficult to thread with >.<
IC: 621