Amogsus

🌾 — Battle Fields

ticciwork short story

- a boy lay silent atop the bright autumn meadow of the countryside. farmstead and forest still waiting, but the woods of the darkened world no longer lure him in, and horrify him with its dreadful kingdom.

- silently, he wishes to a god who is not listening to remain lying under the warm sunlight, breathing along to the birds song and humming symphony of crickets.

- here in the endless wilderness, he was removed from the world of man, and creature. he never saw so clearly the wide blue spread of heaven coated by soft white cloud.

- his back met the grassland that cradled him as dandelion weeds sat messily in his brunette hair. tired, ladened eyes found a semblance of strength in the sky as he stared up. strange country surrounded him, nevertheless the forest brook spoke to the young man.

- a deep inhale of the reek of the wartorn fields caused the boy to tremble with the wounds of a hundred dying and sick. time has long slipped past him, and he knows only that somewhere in the distance, a battle is being fought.

- brown, earthly eyes grow heavy and darken the world around him for a moment. slowly, he begins to slip away. he, too, will return to what he was. he will once again become a soldier. and he will once again know, that the sweet breath of peace, the precious possession of heartbeat, is only a loan.

- a soft kick to his side fluttered him awake, the small boyish frame hurriedly taking a seated position and faced the leg which had touched him. he looked up, and his gaze met with a familiar, tall and brunette girl.

- “what’re you doing out here?” she spoke.

- “what do you care?” he replied.

- the rolling chirp of a northern cardinal was heard in the distance, singing from the tall trees of orange and yellow. in this torturous year, autumn had come early.

- without another word, the girl had taken a seat beside the boy whose thick brow was now furrowed in disregard. with his eyes, he promised friendship, and they were so young. the winds come and go, the clock that sat itself inside her left eye ticked on, and yet she stayed. sat for a time by his side. she stayed in silence.

- the last warmth of the fall catered itself onto their skin, and the wide meadow enveloped the pair. the mighty sun falls kindly onto their foreheads, and jackets. breathing in, they shared a sense of an upcoming winter.

- “maybe some day you will come back from the war, and take a walk with me one evening.” the clock-eyed girl spoke, her slender arms draped casually around her long legs as to hug them. the boy only stared at her in reply. he had forgotten for a moment what he was, and where he was supposed to be.

- “give me your hand then, i still have a long way to go.” a reply was spoken in a low mutter, a boyhood fear of making the companion beside him run off as one frightened deer might. he was a soldier running away from the battlefield, and she was beautiful.

- “you know nothing of time. you will remain in those woods until it kills you,” her eyes gazed forward into the edge of the dark, tall forest that beckoned, “you will never free yourself wholly like this. the puppet strings remain attached.”

- the girls long thin fingers calloused with years of creation, and destruction, wrapped neatly around the boys blood-stained hand. they interlocked as though they were never meant to be apart in the first place, as if a puzzle piece was being put into its proper place.

- “i need to make my way back now. the sun is beginning to set,” he spoke softly, there was a hint of melancholy that hitched his speech. only in reply did the girl stare out to the orange and red rusted skies as the two watched the sun lay to rest.

- “its going to kill you some day, toby.”

- “that is knowledge i can live with.”

- “take me with you to your grave, then, stubborn boy.”

- a low chuckle escaped his mouth at the oh too familiar scold of his closest friend. he nodded in agreement, joining her in a peaceful gaze at the beautiful view ahead of them. when he made a glance over to her, he saw a hint of deep sorrow make its way into the cracks of her time-ridden face as her brow creased and her lips folded into a frown.

- it seemed that no matter the exchange of words, the boy had an unfortunate habit of upsetting his intimate other. shaking his hand from her comfortable grasp, he stood up from his bedding within the vast golden green fields and stretched his tired body. the sweet breath of life shook sorrowfully from his overworked limbs and a quick goodbye was exchanged before he made his way back into the distant woods.

- for the boy, always a dim picture of a legend. war will remain, and heavy are the recent days. he has no place in the peaceful meadows outside the bounds of the battlefield.

i love nina

*It's been a while, huh?

*Fourth strip!

*Previous strip *First strip

Natalie Ouellette (Clockwork)

🌲 — TicciWork Headcanons

partners in crime

- a rough love. they’ve been through cycle after cycle of love and hate, and given the ways they grew up, their relationship was toxic in the beginning. its all they knew, the way they saw their parents interact, the childhood image of what “loving someone” wasn’t anything stable.

- their fights were like war. screaming matches, hits to the ego, things being broken, storming out. a perfect mirror of their past.

- but theyre stubborn, and nobody else could stomach them like they could. and so again, and again, they’d come back to each other

- slowly, they would grow beyond what their parents were. they would push past those cycles. and they’d realize it was them against the world. and that they didn’t want to hurt each other

- clockwork would help toby manage his emotions, and toby would help bring clockwork out of her shell. the two gritted their teeth and refused to continue losing each other, because they both silently feared one day there would be no reuniting

- its the type of relationship where they’d help each other grow, and hold each other accountable. they don’t just have fun together, they care for each other, they burn for each other.

- both of them have similar pasts, and once they reach that point of opening up, their connection only deepens from such a painful understanding of what it was like growing up. a “im sorry i wasnt there for you as a kid, i wouldve iced the bruises on your back” type of understanding

- it takes them a very long time to realize their feelings for each other. they wouldn’t realize why they care so much, or why they feel so sappy and soft. or why they love to hold hands so much

- an unspoken love between two best friends who understand its till death do them part

- they have personal laws and secret history that no outsider could understand. their relationship is incomprehensible to anyone but them. like two awkward youth who were never loved trying to make it up as they go

- but everyone could see it. everyone but them.

- how much clockwork laughed and fought back a smile at tobys dumb jokes, how she scolded him for being a reckless idiot, because everyone but her knew she was worried about him

- and how toby followed her around like a dog, how he listened to no one but her, it was insufferable but god it was endearing to see how that boy was in love

- in a horrible, cruel, terrible world, love prevails. and it shows in the sparks between the two when they shove each other to the ground, or when their fingers tenderly interlock, or when they linger in each others presence a bit too long. their love prevails, against all odds.

reblog if you are interested in this mole

cringetober day 30

another one i wanna redo cause i rushed it too much

i think toby would have a flip phone and he dramatically slams it shut when he ends a call

omfg. mean girl toby. he's so annoying . prob throws his phone when he's mad too.

Toby and Clockwork were so used to hearing Nina come to them about the most heartbreaking things regarding her relationship with Jeff. Him ignoring her for weeks, calling her names, using her, threatening her. Now that Nina's with Kate, they're secretly so relieved to hear Nina complaining about mundane, normal relationship things now

🌙 — Late Nights

midnight laundry run

- the melodic jingle of a bell flowed through the atmosphere of the empty laundromat as the glass front door swung open.

- a tall, slim woman made her way into the world of detergent and garment as she squinted up at the buzzing fluorescent lights upon entry. a stark contrast from the darkness of the midnight streets outside. the bright blue-green hues from the bulbs reflected off her clock eye, and the deep red that soaked her clothes.

- she dug her hands into her forest green jacket, accessorized by dirty fur on the hood, and pulled out the contents in her pockets. lint, a switchblade, pack of cigarettes, lighter, and various coins.

- the change clattered onto the metal washing machine as she emptied the items and began to remove her blood-stained, mud-crusted coat.

- silently, the hum of the lights overhead buzzed through her cold ears red with frost. as she sniffled back snot, clockwork caught a scent of warmth and cleanliness. her long, calloused hands made their way to her white tank top as pulled it off over her head, revealing black bra and defined scarred abdomen.

- her long, messy caramel brown hair fell recklessly on her slender shoulders freckled with sun and stars. clockwork wiped her dirty, red painted hands off on her black skinny jeans torn with age and adventure, and began to slide those off as well.

- as the girl stripped down to nothing but underwear, she was utterly indifferent to shame or curtesy. slipping a cigarette out of her pack, she placed one in her mouth, deeply inhaling the rough tobacco smoke as though she were breathing in life.

- with the cigarette held between her lips, she placed her soiled clothing into the washing machine and inserted the coins into the slot. as time ticked on, she leaned against the rumbling appliance and hugged her arm around her waist, bringing her other up to grip the smoke loosely between her two fingers.

- for a moment, all was calm. the warm air of the laundromat danced on her bare skin, opposite to the cold tingle of the washing machine on her back. clockwork allowed the atmosphere around her to take hold, closing her one good eye for a moment.

- she felt as though everything around her crumbled away, only listening to the buzz of the lights creating a symphony of errand with the thundering clatter of her clothes being tossed and turned. it was quiet, and peacefully alone.

- in that moment, it was if the girl wasn’t feral with blood splattered onto her coarse body ripe with war. in that moment, she was as clean as she could be with mud on her sneakers ripped to shreds and victim flesh under her chewed nails.

- that is, until the sound of the bell on the front door made her eye shoot open. a ruthless glare dug daggers at the intruder of her peaceful night as she stared at the entrance.

- to her dismay, it was a familiar face.

- shaggy, messy tuft of chestnut hair and obnoxious orange goggles hiding the boys desensitized dark eyes. it appears he had been on a job. his clothes were even more tattered with red soaked stains and earth grime than the girls.

- “oh clocky have you no shame?” the boy joked, inviting himself to stride over to her side.

- “not one bit. got nothing to lose anyways.” clockwork replied, staring past the annoyance who she knew as toby.

- without second word or warning, the other began to pull off his sweater, and unbuttoned his jeans mudded with graveyard dirt. his hands were rough, but quick, as he removed every article but his boxers.

- toby was smaller by a couple of inches in comparison to the tall girl when she straightened her posture to reveal her full height. like the girls, his body was littered with scars. some old, some new.

- he slid some of clockwork’s coins off the top of an unoccupied machine and roughly shoved his bundle of wardrobe into it, easing the change into the slot.

- still leaning against her appliance, facing forward, clockwork glanced over to the side with aloofness plastered on her time-kissed face, to watch the boy fight with the cleaning instrument.

- “you’re an idiot,” she muttered as she tried to fight off an amused smile creeping on to the corners of her mouth.

- toby huffed and turned away from the sputtering laundry, now looking at clockwork in her brutal entirety. the undressed woman was certainly tough to swallow, she wasn’t exactly easy on any casual eyes.

- “you’re hot” the boy blurted out, rivalling her disregard for shame or consequence.

- clockworks head quickly turned to match her gaze, now staring directly at toby with furrowed brow and wide eye. she froze for a moment at the unexpected comment before shaking her head and smiling into her glare, huffing a confused chuckle in response.

- she couldn’t say she was surprised. toby was as loud-mouthed and crude as she was.

- “yeah, well, wish i could say the same about you” the girl teased back, taking another long drag of her cigarette.

- for the next endless two hours until the laundry had completed its cycle, the pair continued their banter and casual chatter. the occasional passerby on the street glancing in to the laundromat from the large window, to see two blood-splattered youths in nothing but underwear and crooked smile, sharing a smoke with sparks in their eyes.

- everyone could see it but them. the fire between them could burn that town down.

Working on a new Clockwork Natalie illustration for tonight, this version of the character isn't human by any means. She's technology from the red world shoved into the brain socket of a dead woman's body given life by the Tyrant.