#''oh but he's a mediocre photographer in the comics'' And? he's still a photographer

[bridoesotherjunk]

Eddie Brock would absolutely fucking hate Ai

you know i'm right

[knowltonsrangers]

Alphabet Prompt: Benjamin Tallmadge

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I’d say a solid 7/10. Affectionate in private, but by that means he’s still a bit hesitant in his actions. Regarding how he shows it, he does it in smaller actions, maybe an arm around your shoulders while walking or while on the couch. He loves it when you initiate acts, because he feels as if he’s on cloud nine.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Ben is the ultimate best friend. Loyal, understanding, quite the sense of humor-he’s got everything you seek out in a friendship. The friendship would start maybe over a mutual friend, or through a shared job? Or maybe in a class where you both don’t know anyone.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

UH-HUH. Ben really enjoys it, but would never say it out loud. Imagine his sassy ass walking into the room and just standing there. And you’re like “…hi Ben.” And he just opens his arms, and you know what that means without him having to say anything.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes. He does, tremendously. He enjoys domestic life and craves it when he’s at work and away from you. Ben would run home if it meant he would be back in time for dinner, not wanting you to have to wait an ounce of time for him.

Ben appreciates a clean space. His side of the room may appear on the surface as clean, but when he gets into his groove books, pens, and papers are known to accumulate.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In person, and with his entire heart on his sleeve. He’d probably cry, too. [🥺]. It would really take something explosive and upsetting to get him to want to end things. He’s loyal, but not enough to a fault-he’d know when it was time to end things.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Oh? Probably right when he trusts his gut. He’ll know the exact moment when he decided that he was hopelessly in love with you, and it would always get him with butterflies in his stomach.

I wouldn’t say he’d be ready to drop to one knee right away, but soon enough. And he wouldn’t flake either, when he asks you to marry him, he’d want to get married right away.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

THE GENTLEST PERSON. Soft when he needs to be, stern when he has to be. He’s gentle physically when it comes to all things you, and is known to wear his emotions like a book. So he understands and is almost always the first to understand. I almost classify Ben as an empath, because he can tell when things have gone wrong even as best as you try to hide it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

To be in Ben’s arms is like in my top 3 things I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. He’s so good at giving hugs, but he may be a little indifferent to receiving them. It’s not that he hates them, but has he ever really gotten hugs before?? Probably not. He envelops you and smells like the outdoors after a morning shower.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not very quickly. He knows when he loves you, but he has to be certain that you and him are on the same wavelength.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

A bit. A bit more than he’s willing to admit. Maybe you’ve been hanging around Caleb or Nathan too much. Or Lafayette gives you a hug as a greeting. Or his boss gives you a warm smile when he introduces you to him.

He doesn’t do anything. His stomach twinges, and he knows it’s jealousy, but he trusts you. He knows that you’d never do anything to double cross him.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I’ve mentioned Ben’s smooches before, how giggly and bashful he gets when it comes to them. His kisses are like spring, beautiful and warm and full of love.

Ben likes to kiss you on your eyelids, but he loves placing little pecks on your cheeks.

Ben loves to be kissed on his knuckles, and his hands. Your butterfly kisses tickle him and he can’t help but smile as you ‘kiss’ his injuries away.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Mediocre, average. Doesn’t actively seek out to babysit or anything, but isn’t opposed to it. Children do love him, however, and as much as he says he is “meh”, you can’t help but smile as he swings a giggling baby around in his arms.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Sleepy and loving. He kisses you good morning and rolls right out of bed for coffee. If you have to be up before him, you usually try and slip out without waking him (‘cause he needs his sleep), but he’ll groan and pull you close to him until you give him morning kisses.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Board games, [comic] books, and vhs tapes. Ben enjoys anything that he gets to do with you, and is awesome at trivia. He’d spend hours scouring the internet for a new sort of game or something to do with you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He doesn’t really have much to hide, truthfully. Ben enjoys sharing his interests, and that follows with his college friends and other friendships he has. He would start revealing things as soon as asked, or maybe a little strained, depending on level of privacy.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Admittedly has a small temper. But it’s nothing that needs to be worried about, it’s only when he’s reached his absolute breaking point and can’t take another moment more. If you drop a pan while he’s concentrating or accidentally trip him up while he’s walking, he won’t even bat an eye.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Every.thing. You can tell him once your favorite candle scent and he’ll buy it for you when your birthday comes around. He nearly has a photographic memory, I’d say. Writes things down on calendars (anniversaries, birthdays, pets birthdays, etc,) and jots notes when necessary.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When he came home after a long day (usually he beats you home) of work and agony. You had dinner on the table and a record on the machine, humming a low tune that makes his heart flutter. He felt so loved at that very moment, and it was hard for him to choke back tears.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very. Ben defends you to the day he dies, and he does so in very lowkey ways that you much appreciate. Taking phone calls for you when you ask, and stepping into public situations when you beckon him close with a warbly voice.

Ben loves feeling protected, especially by you. When you squeeze his hands in affirmation, or stepping in between him and his work to get him to get some rest.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A lot. He can’t get over the idea of getting to see you cry of happiness/thoughtfulness when he watches you take something out of wrapping paper that you offhandedly mentioned once. Ben loves putting the effort in because he’s always so surprised when you return it tenfold, no matter how many times he tries to outdo you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Duplicate buying. I headcanon Ben as a collector, so whether it be comics or memorabilia, he’s known for an accidental duplicate buy every now and then.

He’s also guilty of leaving pens and pencils in bed. Oops.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Like literally 0%. He’s so effortlessly flawless, and a beautiful human being.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. A billion times yes. You are accepted into being a part of him when you exchange “I love yous” and feels so lonely when you aren’t around. His heart is fragile and much more so than he’s willing to admit, so when you aren’t with him he looses his own sense of wholeness.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

While Ben is by no means scary-looking, he can be very intimating. He does not hesitate to get someone to back off when he feels it’s right to step in.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Ben admires people who share his interests, and can’t stand when people don’t take time to at least understand a tad bit of what he enjoys. There’s a difference in respecting each other’s space and things, and actively seeking out to disregard them.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Ben sleeps in socks.

[nightcoremoon]

so for the first time I saw batman: the killing joke.

...

it was okay I guess. but massively overrated. I expected some fucking masterpiece of cinema but instead it was just two unrelated short films that were more style and flash than substance.

so first off, barbara's storyline was mediocre. franz wasn't a compelling villain; just a creep, and a trust fund brat. oh wow he's a mafia kid who stole his family's fortune by hacking. if it was the falcone family I'd have cared more but it wasn't so it's just some faceless deathfodder rando. who gives a shit. the whole situation was just a vehicle to shove batman's dick into babs. which kinda fucks over bruce's character here and judging by the timeline kinda makes him a bit of a groomer, yikes. bruce and gordon have known each other since bruce was a young boy and we know that bruce is way older than babs so yeah bruce totally knew her from birth until present day, he literally utilized an active power dynamic to police her crimefighting activities, and he should have fucking known better and stopped her when she kissed him because it would (and did) compromise their professional dynamic, but hey, batdick. and at least barbara recognized that she was behaving emotionally rather than logically when it came to bruce and paris and took the high road out. that would be a serviceable standalone episode to write her on a bus in a serialization but THIS IS A MOVIE. so for a waste of an already short runtime it's like having an appetizer before your meal but instead of something like a crab cake before stuffed flounder, you get greasy onion petals that are more fried batter than onion before getting a well done cheeseburger that's just a glorified hockey puck on a sponge with a kraft single on top. the animation and vocal delivery were excellent of course, not gonna disparage that aspect, so it was well made, but the writing was just not very good. a polished turd. quantic dream must have developed it then because it feels like I watched a david cage production.

so in a 78 minute movie, five of which were the credits, we had a half hour Disney/Pixar short except those bring joy and this brought boring. also there were a lot of shots of her ass tits and underwear that were obnoxiously male-gazey and there was a token gay for the sole purpose of dangling a carrot on a stick for the queers. look kids, warner brothers and dc comics cares about the lgbts! give us money! a waste of time before the real reason why anyone came to see the movie that literally only exists to pad out the runtime to make it a feature length (even though paying a full ticket would've been a total ripoff because, again, IT WAS ONLY 78. even 9 was 81 minutes long and that had an amazing storyline so I forgave it, but 78 minutes? ugh.

also, GOTHAM RAGE??? CRINGE. SO CRINGE.

alright now for the joker segment.

*ahem*

what the fuck? that sucked! *throws tomato*

mark hamill and the joker's lines and the art and the cinematography and the choreography was all good and the plot was cohesive. I get it.

but holy shit was the writing weak as fuck.

okay so some rando breaks the J-ster out of Arkham (already unlikely but ugh whatever), he didn't turn a trick or recruit or anything, he just went to purchase a carnival. or, steal one. but wait, he DID recruit, but he went to get all of the stereotypical Circus Freak™ stereotypes. little people, fat lady, bearded lady, wolf man, strongman, diaper man (wait, what?), and the two headed woman. I guess if you don't really think about why all of them were super readily available in the outskirts between arkham and gotham [i just realized they both end with -am] then it makes enough sense. and then literally right after that HE RECRUITS SOME GUYS TO HELP HIM KIDNAP GORDON. and then strips and photographs barbara. um. ew. you can tell the writer and director were men. Alan Moore is constantly molesting women in his comics and this one trick pony should be put down already. but whatever. the plot is weak and it only gets saved by the flashback sequences.

oh.

oh no.

they're not that great.

he's a failed unfunny comedian who just wants some money to move his wife to a better house so he turns to thievery with the mob. OR YOU COULD JUST STOP GOING TO THE BAR AND BLOWING IT ALL ON BOOZE. I mean the cops knew where to find him after all so clearly he's a repeat customer (or moore is a bad plot writer who relies on convenience and shut the fuck up and don't critically analyze it). alright so he gets wrapped up in the mob to perform a heist on a playing card factory. GET IT, BECAUSE HE'S THE JOKER??? and he uses the moniker of the red hood to retain his anonymity. I expected the mobsters to be working for francisco but no the paris storyline was only cooked up screenplay for passing the runtime so why would they do something clever and interesting and make the film cohesive? that'd be really stupid to make the movie feel more like one movie and not two short films. at least when grindhouse & planet terror did it they advertised themselves as an anthology film. whatever. he falls in the vat of acid which melts the red hood to his face and I gotta say that's actually a pretty good idea to get his face white and his hair green and his lips red. I like that part. oh wait I forgot about the most important part! his wife gets shoved in the refrigerator. OH WOW THAT'S JUST SO COMPELLING AND ORIGINAL, TOTALLY NOT SOMETHING THAT ALREADY HAPPENED TO GREEN LANTERN. TWICE. although she wasn't literally shoved into a literal refrigerator like alex was. rip in frozen pieces you absolute legend of a trope namer. alright, so... so the joker is sad because his wife died. you know, the wife we saw for two minutes and knew the moment we saw her drenched in sepia she was gonna die. and she died offscreen. kyle's gf died and he was fine. gordon's wife died and he was fine. batman's parents both died and he was fine. oh boo hoo someone I love died! fuck off. I am so goddamn sick of people trying to justify their evil with "I was sad once". it's a stupid trope and it's not compelling. the only valid version is doctor doofenshmirtz' evil(er) version in the PF movie because it's hilarious that it's because of a toy train because that's the emotional depth that fridgewomen is treated with in all of these storylines. but at least batman said so. oh yeah, I almost totally forgot, batman's in this movie.

batman punches people and nonlethally takes them out. by suffocating them and letting them get stabbed and throwing them into pits of spikes and HEY WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND! okay let's just ignore that bit and hope that the little people squeezed between the gaps in the spikes and the strongman could breathe in the face mask and the two headed women had KO gas and the fat lady was fat enough that the knives only stabbed her cellulite. it wouldn't be the biggest reach one would have to make in watching this fucking disaster of a plot mess.

now I did like that it was actually batman, and by that I mean he gave a shit about the insane because he recognizes that mental illness is not a cause of dangerous or criminal behavior, just a potential exacerbating factor if it wasn't treated. yeah he brutalized mobsters and crime lords but they were mostly in self defense while gathering intel. he politely asked sal maroni and the sex workers for information and they gave it to him without violence- he manhandled maroni but only after he reached into his pocket for a cigar which could've been a gun. also batman says sex work should be decriminalized if only by not ratting them out to the cops. he was a genuinely good person in the second half of the movie. too bad it was ruined by the shitty first half that made him a borderline groomer.

joker's song was... bad. mark hamill performed his ass off but the song wasn't that good. it just tried to be willy wonka if he was a voyeuristic monster. oh yeah have the only girl character be paralyzed stripped and photographed only to give her father ManPain™. again... the fuck? joker and batman were both gross but, again. male writers. if it was a one-off I could drop a thermian argument because, alright one and done makes sense, especially 1988 standards. but it saturated and soured the entire goddamn movie because of abhorrent pacing decisions. so you're goddamn right I'm gonna bring it up twice! joker was a creep, his plan was dumb, nolan and burton and lord/miller and even ayer had better motivations. YES I AM SAYING THAT JARED LETO'S JOKER HAD BETTER WRITING THAN MARK HAMILL'S JOKER. not nearly to the level of ledger nicholson or galifanakis but hamill didn't have a lot to work with here and I maintain that his performance was amazing; honestly I like his the best out of all of them but just... not here. but I think I can cut some slack to firelord ozai and luke skywalker even if he just phoned it in here which he didn't. writing was just weak. and that's all there is to it. don't anon me and threaten to remove my bones ok?

alright so batman and joker fought and joker got the upper hand and was gonna kill him but it was a prop gun. haha. they had a heart to heart and batman tells joker that he wants to help him get better, even after joker killed robin and molested barbara and traumatized gordon and did countless other travesties, he still said he would help. but joker said no, and told a joke that was good enough to make batman laugh. and then the credits rolled.

...

what a completely pointless and empty ending. oh it's deep and meaningful and poignant? ok sure, I guess, movie, but you didn't earn that. shyamalan did the same thing a dozen times. that doesn't make him any less of a shit writer.

I can understand the concept of batman laughing at joker's joke, humanizing him.

I get it. I see what they tried to do. I respect it.

but this movie was massively overhyped and overrated and I expected it to be so much better than it was. but overall to me it was just another batman cartoon to throw on top of the pile. maybe it was influential to graphic novels. maybe it shaped batman into what he is today. it published right as tim burton's movie and I can respect its place in the pantheon of comic history. but sometimes things that are classic...

aren't that great.

citizen kane, casablanca, the maltese falcon, the treasure of the sierra madre, gone with the wind, singing in the rain, all of them are classic and legendary pieces of art. but they're just not that good, interesting, appealing, watchable, or FUN. they were good at the time- I mean come on we all know them today- but on going back you'd have to really appreciate the finer details to still love the movies today. and this belongs there, in the vault, to be appreciated from afar. influential if dated.

but god am I still disappointed nonetheless.

TL;DR

it was just okay. had some good ideas, had some really bad ideas, had some ugly stuff. overall mediocre. first half 5/10, second half 7/10, overall 6/10.

[itslilliansnow]

Second Chances

Folks! I had this cute idea and I tried my best! I hope you’ll like it, feedbacks are WELCOME! Just tell me what you think about it and how I can improve myself!  Love ya. ♡ Pairing: Jihoon x Reader  Genre: Angst / Fluff  Words count: 4.261

"So?"

"I don't know, we're locked in here."

                                                          ꧁꧂

Ten Hours Earlier  "The professor will be absent today, so you'll have to settle for me."

You didn't expect them to remain silent, but the classroom that emptied in a few moments was something you hadn't foreseen. You hid the disappointment behind a smile, greeting the students who didn't even give you a nod. Behind your "boss" desk, you waited for everyone to leave, then you were surprised when the only three left stood out from their places. 

Two of them were two girls you knew, they really cared about that course, so you didn't pay so much attention to their presence. What shocked you was seeing Lee Jihoon, the prodigious genius - at least that's how Professor Xu acclaimed him - still sitting in his place. His laptop was lit, his round golden glasses gently resting on his nose, and the sharp look you always thought was painted on his face. You were told that yes, he knew how to smile and to laugh, but in your presence, these events had never happened. He hated you, and by then everyone had understood that. The reason? You had no idea. You remembered correctly the day he entered the classroom, you were simply arranging documents that some pupils had decided to use as paper airplanes. Singing a song and focusing totally on your task in hand. 

"Who are you?"

The approach seemed pretty rough to you, not even a "hello, I'm new here," but you still smiled as you turned towards him. Your answer didn't seem to suit him, though. To learn that Professor Xu, the most respected professor in the nation's university complex, already had an assistant was his greatest disappointment. You saw it in his eyes, and since then Lee Jihoon hadn't hidden his hatred of you. Clearing your voice, bypassing the professor’s desk you stumbled across the laces of your converse. The balance disappeared completely but moving your arms back and forth you managed not to fall, even though you knew you were funny. "Sorry," you whispered as the two girls giggled and Jihoon pierced you with the cold of his sharp eyes. "You can go, I'll tell the professor that I couldn't carry the lesson. Don't worry."

You knew they were waiting for that, but their run out of the classroom gave you a proof of what you'd always thought. No one took you seriously in that role, and in your heart, you couldn't blame them. You were a graduate student like them, you needed credits. 

Music wasn't even your major, and you didn't even know why among all those more experienced than you, you had been his choice. Maybe because of your organizational skills (a pretty strange thing considering you were messy about everything else) and the fact that you had a photographic memory that was useful 98% of the time? "You could just do the lesson, without saying that the professor wouldn't be there." Your gaze rested on him, standing on the first step of the stands that housed the students, trying to ignore his undeniable charm accentuated by the perfection with which his clothes were matched. He held his laptop under his arm, protected in its case, and his face had that veil of disgust that you could regularly sense from his person. "It would have been unfair. You want the professor, not me."

Nodding, he snapped his tongue against the palate, moving towards the door without passing through it. "That's true, at least you're aware of it," he said coldly, giving you his back and leaving you alone in a room too big and cold for your taste. His words torn your skin, penetrating into your bones and mind, leaving yet another scar that lit up every night in the darkness of your little room reminding you how mediocre your life was.

                                                         ꧁꧂

Seven Hours Earlier

"Need anything?" You asked your roommate, who was quietly lying on the couch watching a movie while the chips were wandering more on the soft fabric than in his mouth. "Gno," he swallowed and slipped his hand into the envelope, kidnapping other poor chips, "but could you stop by the library and give things back for me?"

Sighing, you went into his room, took quick but careful steps not to stumble into anything, looking for anything that reminded you of a book. Noticing a suspicious pile on the desk, covered in clothes and comics, you found three books that hadn't even been opened. "MINHYUK! You had to knock the test out with these!" you screamed and heard him laugh with affection, hating him from the bottom of your heart. Biting hard on your chapped lower lip, so much so that you could feel the slightly metallic taste of the blood droplets that had spilled out, you grabbed the triplet and stormed out of the room and without saying goodbye you were out of the apartment. You loved your roommate, but you hated the simple fact that he didn't need much to get good grades when you killed yourself every time just to get "okay" grades.

You didn't have to go to the library, and just because he was a lazy asshole, you'd have to extend your journey. Feeling the cold of December slowly and relentlessly penetrate into your already tired bones, you thought about what Jihoon had told you a few hours before. 

How could he hate you so much without even taking a few minutes to get to know you? The answers didn't come, maybe you were too tired even to really think about it, so between a near-fall and your feet stumbling among them every four steps, the library materialized in front of you. Warm and inviting. At the entrance you slammed your feet on the enormous black carpet, hearing droplets of water glide over the fabric. The snowfall of a few days before left a trail of cold, wet feet here and there. By opening the door, a wave of heat hit your body, you exhaled an ecstatic puff of air and entered closing out the bad weather, the wicked thoughts, and even the desire to kill Minhyuk. 

"Hi Joon," you said to the boy behind the counter, smiling gently, "I bring these back from Hyuk, tell me he still had time to give them back." Namjoon, the library attendant and graduating in 2016, smiled, taking the books you were handing over to him and giggling almost silently when he read the titles. "What?"

"He took them four days ago, Y/N..."

"My God, I hate him;" Trying to hide the poison in your voice you ignored the boy's amused look. Four days, could he hold them a little longer and return them himself? "Since I'm here, did that textbook I booked arrive?" By giving Namjoon time to check it out, you took off your scarf and beanie and passed a hand through your hair trying to re-establish a decent style. Not the uncultivated bush you had met that morning in the mirror while dressing for the day. "Yes, it's here. Do you take it?"

"Definitely! I need it otherwise my thesis will suck... more than it already does." "Don't be so hard on yourself, we both know you're a great student." The redness spread quickly on your cheeks, and the tip of your nose. You had that embarrassed smile of those who can't accept a compliment and remained silent, taking into your hands the book resting on the light wood of the counter. 

"Your favorite spot is free if you want," he said in a whisper, winking at you while you thought about stay just a few minutes. You had just entered that pleasant heated place, why face the cold just to go and buy things at the store? They could wait. With a small nod of your head as a "thanks," you started to cross the intricate labyrinths created by the high shelves filled with words, paper, and thoughts that would never disappear. Your hands were finally warming up, your feet a little less but they were on the right track, and your body didn't look like an icicle anymore. You met some of Professor Xu's students, but keeping your head down, you managed to ignore them until your secret place was in front of your eyes. 

It was a table not so big, in the historical section that no one ever occupied. A thud and the book was on the wood as you began to strip off the various layers of clothing used to prevent your death from being too cold. The inseparable backpack on your side, earphones in your ears to relax with music and a pen in your hand you were ready to face 1298 pages of the book. Your problem, however, was the various sleepless nights and without realizing it, the world of dreams called you, totally unaware of what would happen from there in a few hours.

                                                          ꧁꧂

Thirty Minutes Earlier  "Mmh..." you hummed realizing the absence of music. With your hand, you found the phone, the screen totally black. It must have died during your "nap," you thought as you rubbed your eyes and felt a slight pain behind your neck. Surely sleeping in that position had brought some "little" discomfort. 

"Wha--" words got stuck in your throat when you noticed the darkness. Frenetically you looked for your watch in hoodie's pocket and held back a scream by reading the time. It was 11:00 p.m and the library had to be closed for at least half an hour. "Oh God, tell me this isn't happening to me." "Not just to you." In the frenzy of understanding the situation, you had totally ignored the person sitting at your own table and hearing a voice coming from nowhere you jumped out of the chair, screaming in full rage-mode ending up banging your back on the floor. "WHAT THE FUCK. HAVE SOMEONE IN YOUR LIFE TOLD YOU TO ADVICE BEFORE YOU MAKE ME DIE FOR A HEART ATTACK????" you screamed feeling tears - maybe caused by the pain or your visible hysteria - freely run onto your cheeks with no worry to dry them out. Finally, your eyes were getting used to the almost absence of light, and looking carefully at the "unknown" his features weren't so foreign to you. "Jihoon..." "Sorry." He didn't even bother to stand up and help you, but you didn't expect him to. With difficulty and strength on both hands, you managed to lift yourself up, clutching the edge of the table and regaining the balance you had lost just before. "Ouch..." you murmured, rubbing your aching ass for slight relief, "are we locked inside?" "Yes, Sherlock." "Have you tried to call anyone, by any chance? You know technology exists for a reason." "Says the one who has her phone totally dead." His harshness was more pronounced than yours, but you decided to ignore it and start running towards the entrance. "Because that will solve everything..." was Jihoon's comment, seeing you disappear among the shelves, rechecking his phone and sighing distraught at the fact that there was no line. After a few minutes, you returned to the small corner of the library, the worried look and the desire to scream out the anger that was increasing within you. Namjoon would take some kicks after this. "Is there no line?" You asked, sitting down and resting your elbows on the table hiding your head between them, "No, nothing. We are isolated, even the wifi after closing time is disconnected." Just nodding at his words, you felt the salty taste of tears on your lips and the desire to disappear echoing in your veins. Jihoon focused his gaze on you or rather on your hands intertwined with strands of hair. They were tense by nervousness and were colored by those locks, a dull color that he strangely found fascinating.. on you. He had never noticed, but you had delicate and pretty hands. Just as he hadn't heard your hiccups, but when he came back to reality and listened to that noise, he was surprised. Despite his hatred for you, he was not so icy as not to comfort a person in an apparent state of stress. In silence, he took a chocolate bar out of his backpack, a gift from Soonyoung who always cared that his friend had an adequate supply of sugar, pushing it slowly towards you. "They say chocolate is good for these situations." You raised your head to his words, noticing the colored paper of the bar. The light of the streetlamps outside managed to brighten, albeit dimly, that little hidden corner. A relief for you that couldn't cope well with the darkness. "It doesn't help so much if you're allergic..."

"Oh... That's all I have, I'm sorry." His voice was low, almost as if he didn't want to disturb the possible "presences" that were rumored to be living in the library, but mixed with a veil of kindness. Surprising, almost. "Don't worry. I'll be fine in minutes.." "So?" "I don't know, we're locked in here."

A quiet silence enveloped both of us as you seek something to say despite the anxiety still corrupting your mind. What could you say to someone who hated you? Groaning, you got up and sat on the floor, near one of the heating exits, thankful that they weren't turned down. Besides the dark, you couldn't stand the cold, it would have been your end. "Everything okay?" He asked, holding his gaze towards you and trying not to show that your clumsiness had almost made him laugh. Was every movement of yours so uncoordinated or had he never honestly noticed? "Yes, it's warmer here..." you said, crossing your legs on the ground and resting your back against the wall. Moaning with joy, you felt the heat slipping under your clothes and pampering your skin. Shortly afterward you heard the rustling and Jihoon was right by your side, almost shoulder to shoulder, looking at the dimly lit screen of his phone. "I think we'll stay here until tomorrow morning." "Yeah... bad luck you're with me, aren't you?" He didn't reply to your sarcastic comment, but you weren't interested. He was always so veiled - note the sarcasm - with his feelings towards you that maybe you should have paid it back with the same coin. Putting your chin on your knees, you began to count the grains of dust in the dim light, looking for a distraction.  "Yes, I'm extremely unlucky. Happy now?"

"Very happy." "You're always so bitter," he began to ask looking at you and hating not seeing your face, the expressions were something vital for him, "or is it the situation?" "Seriously, Jihoon?" You replied, raising your head and turning it towards him. His eyes were at the level of yours, and you could see the stubbornness that represented you in the deep, warm brown of his gaze. "Do you really have the nerve to ask me if I'm bitter when you're the evilest person on Earth? At least with me. You don't have the fucking right to say such a thing, so bite your tongue and be quiet." "What did you say? You said that thing about bad luck, aren't you a little pretentious?" "Speaking of this, try to study the last two years. The few moments together. Look at them carefully, analyze them, and try to remember one nice thing you said to me. ONE. When you realize that you have hated me for no reason for two years, we can review the concept of hypocrisy," your voice was filled with bile and poison, accumulated over those years, venting them on the primary source of the problem. You looked at him for a handful of seconds, eyes in the eyes. His thin lips became thinner with every word that was spat out of your mouth, and his eyebrows arched by the shock of hearing you respond. That eye contact didn't last long, you went back to resting your chin on your knees and coming back to the little dusty companies.  “You stole from me the only thing I wanted when I got here."

You ignored him, trying to leave curiosity aside. You could only assume that he was referring to your work, but you firmly let that phrase slip on you. "You, a psychology graduate who is an assistant to a music professor. Doesn't that sound like an unusual combination to you? I bet you just wanted to be associated with his name, didn't you? You wanted a pinch of his fame. You've got mom and dad anyway, haven't you?" "You're disgusting." Jihoon stuck to that single phrase, not because of what you said but because of the tears that followed it. He could see them, illuminated by light, shining on the redness of your cheeks and hitting his heart. He may have exaggerated, but he hated to be attacked like that. It was a coping mechanism, although he knew it was wrong, he couldn't stop. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Jihoon," you sobbed and threw your head backward, leaning it against the wall and hoping that your stupid, too kind heart would quickly stitch itself up, all alone as always.  "You don't know anything about me. Nothing. Yet you dared to judge me, classify me and offend me in the same sentence. How does it feel to be so superior that you can do such a thing? Does it make you feel better?" "Wai--" "No, what do I have to wait for? Other words that can only make that huge abyss that I have inside worse? You don't realize how much your hatred, what you told me, everything people think about me, had destroyed me. But what does it matter to you, you have everything." "Now you are the one to judge." "Isn't that right? We all know that your parents built a pharmaceutical empire from nothing," you chuckled bitterly at his remarks, feeling the boundary between right and wrong blurred more and more in your mind. You didn't even notice that the temperature was dropping, but you were so angry that the adrenaline was warming you up enough. "We all know that with a snap of your fingers you could buy the university. What about me? Do you really want to know?" With that rhetorical question, you turned towards him with your whole body. You wanted to show him your face stained with tears and reddish blotches, his effect on you. With anger, you rubbed the sleeves of the hoodie on the face, taking a breath because no one knew your true story. Pity was something you didn't want. "I live with Minhyuk who doesn't make me pay rent, because I don't make enough money as an assistant. Because I have no one since my parents died when I was 17. If it weren't for him, I'd be living on the street, you know? I have a fucking scholarship, and if my grades don't stay in the high end, I risk losing everything." It was hard to talk with the knot that had formed into your throat, but like a speeding train, words made their way out your lips. "Minhyuk pays for everything because he's my best friend, the only thing I can do is bring my clothes to the University laundry. Just that and it's extremely mortifying. Having to put up with that man, your much-loved Professor Xu, is the punishment for a possible crime in my past life. Do you know what it's like to deny his advances every single day? It's exhausting, Jihoon. I don't know anything about music, but I needed money. And it was the only place available, so sorry if I stole your fucking," you threw your scarf into his face because you didn't want to see his emotions, "special place, but I avoided starving. Judge this now." Tears were flowing copiously, the boy's face in front of you devoid of any emotion and your heart that was going too fast. Hiccups left your mouth, you placed a hand savoring the salty taste and surprised by those straggled sounds, trying to keep a demeanor. The air was dense as if your outburst had saddened even the atmosphere, but you didn't dare to say another word because he had not yet spoken. "My father would like me to run the company, but... Music is the only thing that keeps me alive," he muttered lowering his gaze on his hands, tapered and knotted on his thighs, "they think that by spoiling me now I'll become more willing to accept my destiny. They don't understand that music is my future."

"This sucks... But don't let them choose for you... You're good at what you do." It was a soft whisper but he clearly heard it, and flustered looked at you, maybe "seeing" you for the first time. Despite what you had thrown on him shortly before, you still found the kindness to agree with him. "Really? How the fuck do you do that?" Stretching an eyebrow, amazed by his reply, you looked at him waiting for an explanation. "What?" You asked in a tiny voice, frightened by a possible angry Jihoon. You had seen him before that you didn't want to see him again, not when you were emotionally unstable enough to even slap him. "How is it possible that after two years of free hate, what I have told you and everything... you are on my side." He looked at you and realized, after what you said to him, that you weren't the person he thought you were. And you were beautiful. Your gaze emanated sweetness. Your smile - yes, he had often noticed it without admitting it with himself - caused anyone to freeze and remain bewitched. Your intelligence was as fascinating as it was special because it was a mix of personal knowledge and knowledge learned from books. Your endless falls - he had also noticed those - were funny but made you, well... you. You were made of dazzling beauty and he had wasted two years hating you for the wrong reason. He could hate you because you were that type of person people do crazy things for. He could hate you because you were the kind of person who would drop anything if she only knew you needed her. He could hate you because you weren't predictable, you weren't taken for granted and you were hard to read. So difficult that he could get lost but want to get lost even more. He could hate you because he had observed you without knowing it and you had already slipped into him, like a small flower that resists the weather and blooms beautifully than ever. He could hate you because he was fucked up and afraid of it. "It's called intellect. Your situation really sucks... Also, I've judged you too, without knowing your persona... I'm sorry."

"I deserved it... I was a real asshole." "Absolutely yes," you pointed out and smiled slightly, resting your head on his shoulder and feeling him just shivering, "sorry, I have a headache..." "It's okay. So... in short... Professor Xu... he..." You giggled, closing your eyes and enjoyed that sense of peace. A peace that was beginning to erase anger, adrenaline, poison.. all those feelings you had kept for so long that by now, you were tired of owning. "Do you think... can I start over? With you, I mean." The question lingered in the air, as you squatted better against his side and hugged his arm in the need to squeeze something. "Never deny a second chance. But you have to work for it, Lee Jihoon."

                                                          ꧁꧂

  "Wanna grab some coffee?"

"Is this a date?" "Only if you want it to be." You smiled widely, the light March breeze caressing your hair. "Mmh, I need to think about it."  Jihoon grunted, nervously running his hand through his now black hair and longer than a few inches. By that day in the library, your relationship did a full 360° flip and neither of you felt sorry for it. It took time to give him the confidence to speak freely, and you couldn't doubt that he was working hard on it. You two had spent nights in the park of the campus talking, discovering your secrets, your little peculiarities, your flaws. You supported each other in some tough moments, starting to build something special. You knew it, he knew it, the whole world knew it. But there had never been anything "official." No kiss, no dates, not even his hand clasping yours while waiting in the hospital because Minhyuk was a moron and hurt himself was to be considered a sign of officiality. You had discovered sides of Jihoon that you would never have imagined. He had his own way of taking care of people. He wasn’t very vocal with his feelings, except when really angry or tired. His determination to achieve something was not to be underestimated, he could even turn the whole world upside down to get what he wanted. Day after day, you saw something new and knew you were falling, slowly but surely. "WHY?" He asked, hiding the impatience, watching your little steps as you walked together to the cafeteria, "please tell me. Tell me what I have to do, I'll do it." "Okay... You just need to promise me this will just be the first in a long series, Lee Jihoon."

[thesilverdreamer]

Roger Rabbit and the Ink Machine: Chapter 1

Read on Fanfiction.net here

Read on AO3 here

Summary:  New York City, 1948. Alice Angel has gone missing. The NYPD laughed at the prospect of a Missing Toon Report, and nobody wants anything to do with Toons. Desperate, Joey turns to Eddie Valiant, the Detective Who Works for Toons. A few months out from the Marvin Acme case, Eddie quickly realizes that something funny is going on at Joey Drew Studios, and he aims to find out what.

Characters: Eddie Valiant, Roger Rabbit, Joey Drew, Henry, Bendy, miscellaneous characters from Bendy and the Ink Machine

Rated T for language

From the Case Files of George K. Fowler, Office of Extranormal Affairs

June, 1947: Marvin Acme, acclaimed comedian, industrialist, and the creator of Toontown, is found dead, apparently murdered by one of the very same Toons he had been supporting for almost two decades. Maroon Cartoon’s Roger Rabbit is believed to have killed him in a fit of jealous rage after learning that his wife, Jessica Rabbit, was having an emotional affair with Acme. Detective Eddie Valiant, of Valiant & Valiant, uncovers the truth: Judge Doom of the Los Angeles Circuit killed Acme and framed Roger to gain control of Toontown. Acme’s will is found, bequeathing Toontown to the Toons. Valiant begins helping Toons again after several years’ lapse, and Roger Rabbit signs a contract with Walt Disney Productions to have his own cartoon.

New York City, 1948

Joey Drew was either out of his mind or an idiot to fly a detective from LA to New York. Eddie Valiant wasn’t complaining, his plane ticket, lodging, and time were being paid for in advance by Drew Studios, plus the job itself. (Alright, so he was complaining a little, but odds were good that this would be a simple missing toon case the NYPD wasn’t taking seriously, worse case scenario he got to see the Statue of Liberty. He was, after, all, the shmuck who agreed to come out here.)

Drew Studios was smack dab in Manhattan, at Broadway and 3rd Avenue. The building was unimpressive, but apparently it had several basement floors. Joey Drew had a reputation for being a little peculiar, even for a man who worked in cartoons. The front face of the building was dominated by a colorful sign reading, ‘JOEY DREW STUDIOS.’

Eddie breathed a long-suffering sigh, hefted his travel bag over his shoulder, and pushed through the revolving door.

The studio was alive with the sound of creators at work, and it almost sounded like home. The entrance hall had posters all the way down showing some of the characters in Drew Studios’ cartoons. Boris the Wolf (less villainous, more hungry), the Butcher Gang (a recurring group of bad guys made up of Charley, Barley, and Edgar), Alice Angel (her mediocre debut was followed up by the fantastic ‘Hell or High Water’ and her popularity exploded), and of course, studio mascot Bendy the Dancing Demon. Bendy was the big star, and had been ever since Drew Studios started getting some recognition back in ’35.

The hall opened into a lobby, and an inter-office courier nearly ran into Eddie, gave a half-hearted apology, and kept on going. There were a couple of young men bickering off to the side, and a projector played an old Bendy cartoon on a screen at the back wall.

A woman wearing a knee-length checkered skirt and red lipstick approached Eddie as he took the scene in. “Can I help you, sir?” she said. She had a distinct Jersey accent.

“Yeah, uh, I’ve got a meeting with Mr. Drew?” he said. The secretary, probably, consulted her clipboard and asked for his name. “Valiant.”

“Hm, I’m not seeing—”

A sharp whistle cut across the lobby, and a man who definitely wasn’t Joey Drew but still seemed kind of familiar strode across the room, up to Eddie and the secretary. “It’s fine, Sherry, we’re expecting Mr. Valiant,” he said. He was distinctly short, white, and slim. He looked young, without a trace of gray in his hair, and had a very thin pencil mustache. He was dressed professionally, but his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his tie was thrown over his shoulder to keep it clean. There were dark spots under his eyes.

“Alright, Mr. Hoskins,” Sherry said, and quietly made a gesture like adjusting her collar; he picked up on her meaning and quickly sorted out his tie.

Sherry fluttered away, her heels clicking on the wood floor, and Eddie forced himself to look in any other direction. “So, uh, Mr. Hoskins?”

“Please, just call me Henry.” Henry Hoskins, now that was a name that Eddie recognized from his research. Cofounder of Drew Studios, head animator for what little traditional animation they still produced. Despite his significance in the studio’s history, he stayed out of the public eye, especially compared to Drew. “Pleasure, Mr. Valiant, I’m the lead artist here.” Henry held out his hand for Eddie to shake.

‘Lead artist’ was a roundabout way of alluding to Henry’s bigger role; he was one of those rare gifted people who possessed the power to literally bring their art to life. Some called them, ‘Old Men,’ after Disney’s Nine Old Men, who had that power to a man.

Eddie shook Henry’s hand. “Eddie Valiant.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s many people in this industry who haven’t heard of you after last summer,” Henry said.

“You’d be surprised.”

“Well, at any rate, I’d like to talk somewhere a little more private. We’re trying to keep things quiet as long as possible.”

He led Eddie down the left wing to what was presumably Henry’s office, surprisingly small for one of the studio’s founders. There was an ordinary desk and chair, along with a light table that had been in use recently. He probably didn’t have people in his office very often, judging by how the desk and chairs were piled high with papers. As Henry moved a heavy-looking binder off of a chair, Eddie looked around a little.

Framed art covered the walls, but especially over the light table. There were character model sheets, concept art, a few posters. Some photographs had been pinned up. There was one of Henry and another man, at least a few years younger. Another was clearly a wedding portrait, showing Henry and a pretty woman with dark hair. Eddie checked surreptitiously to confirm that yes, Henry was wearing a wedding band.

Then there was another photo, this one of a little girl who couldn’t have been older than five, and right next to that photo was a child’s drawing of Bendy done in crayon.

“Your daughter?” Eddie said.

Henry swung his head around to see what Eddie was referring to, and broke into a smile. “Yeah, my little girl. Beth just turned six. Do you have any children, Mr. Valiant?”

Eddie shook his head emphatically. “No, no no, that life ain’t for me.”

“Well, it isn’t easy, I’ll say that much, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Then again, if even half of what the papers say is true, you’ve taken on some work far more difficult than raising a child.” Henry threw his hands up as the mess defeated him. “Bah. I’m sorry Joey didn’t come meet you himself, he’s scatter-brained at the best of times. I—what in the world is that noise?”

There was some kind of rustling noise coming from the coat closet. Eddie was closer, so he pulled the door open, and a puny cartoon devil came tumbling out, dramatically gasping for air.

“I thought I was a goner!” Bendy wheezed. “It smells like a sewer in there!”

“Bendy!” Henry snapped, but he didn’t look all that bothered by it, smiling as he spoke. “How long have you been in there?”

“Uh…what day is it?”

“Same as when I saw you this morning. Why aren’t you on set?”

“Cause they’re still cleanin’ up after the last take,” Bendy drawled, dropping all of the wheezing he had affected. It was a gag, between Toon and creator, maybe not exactly that situation but the format of Bendy cracking wise while Henry was the straight man was nothing new. Not for the first time Eddie reflected on just how weird artists were.

“So, this the flatfoot who’s gonna find Alice?” Bendy said, turning his attention to Eddie and sizing him up.

“I hope so,” Henry said. “Mr. Valiant, Bendy. Bendy, Eddie Valiant.”

“Hmph,” Bendy grunted, and Eddie’s response was more or less the same. He was way too used to being around Toons.

“So, Alice Angel?” Eddie said.

“Yes, that’s right,” Henry said, sobering. “Alice has been missing for a little over a week. The last time anyone saw her was the Friday before last. Joey tried to report her missing, but New York’s Finest laughed at him.” The sarcasm was practically dripping off of Henry. Bendy murmured something about, “@#&%ing pigs,” with the sound of a bike horn. Definitely a New Yorker.

“No surprise there,” Eddie said. He held up his box of cigarettes. “Alright if I smoke?”

“Sorry, I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Henry said. Eddie nodded and quietly pocketed the box. “We tried searching for her ourselves, but everyone here is so busy with work. There’s been some calls to PI’s in the area, but they didn’t want anything to do with Toons. If I’m being honest, as much as I trust Joey, I objected when he wanted to hire you, Mr. Valiant, but I think he’s panicking.”

“Well, if we’re being honest, I thought it was a little funny myself. As for your little starlet…” Eddie set his jaw. “She wouldn’t be the first to go running off into the city for a good time, but she doesn’t seem like the type. Anybody check her place?”

“Hm?” Henry blinked. “Oh, no, Alice lives here in the studio, along with Bendy and Boris.”

Well that explained some of the expansions, dorms for the Toons. It was practically unknown in Hollywood since Toontown was brought to life, and even before then it was uncommon for studios to have private housing for their ink-based stars. Toons weren’t treated well in general, but there was still some acknowledgement that they were people, human-like, and wanted to be treated like adults. Unless it was funny, of course. Hell, even Roger—

“ACHOO!”

The room went very still, as that had definitely not been either of the humans who had sneezed comically loudly, and Bendy wasn’t trying to use Henry’s shirt as a handkerchief, and also the sneeze had come from Eddie’s travel bag.

“I, uh, think your bag might have a cold,” Bendy drawled.

Eddie could feel his blood pressure rising. He dropped his bag unceremoniously to the floor, and the impact was accompanied by a yelp. Eddie roughly unzipped the bag, reached in to the elbow, and yanked out a Toon rabbit by the straps of his red overalls, wriggling as he tried to get free. “Oh, boy, is it stuffy in there! My ears were burning, was somebody talkin’ about me?”

“Roger!” Eddie snapped, as he lifted Roger Rabbit up so he could look him in the eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

Roger rambled, oblivious to Eddie’s frustration. “Well, I heard you were going to New York, and I’ve always wanted to go to New York, so I thought, why not go see New York with my best pal? Then we can solve a case together, just like the good ol’ days!”

“’The good ol’ days?’ You mean last summer, when you were framed for murdering Marvin Acme and almost got the both of us killed?”

“Yeah, just like then!” Roger said earnestly.

Eddie closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and dropped Roger so he could rub his temples. Bendy looked excited, which couldn’t be good, and Henry was laughing. “Do I even want to know what you did with my spare clothes?” Eddie snapped.

Meanwhile, a ten-year-old girl in Albuquerque was very confused when she unpacked her suitcase and found a pair of men’s boxers with hearts printed on them.

“Pu-bu-bu-bu-robably not!” Roger trilled, and darted away from Eddie to avoid retaliation.

Roger stopped in front of Bendy and gasped dramatically. “Oh, boy! I never thought I’d get to meet Bendy, I just saw the last cartoon you were in! Oh, the artistry! The drama! The tragedy! It was inspired!” Roger cried, swooning.

Bendy was all too eagerly soaking up the praise. “Well, you ain’t too bad yaself, Rabbit. Put ‘er there, pal,” Bendy said. Roger happily shook his hand, and even as Roger was viciously zapped by Bendy’s joy buzzer, he shook Bendy’s hand so strongly that the little devil was lifted up off his feet and shaken up and down. By the time they were finished, Roger’s fur was singed and Bendy was dizzy and a droplet of ink fell from the edge of his widow’s peak like sweat.

“Toons,” Eddie said gruffly.

“Toons,” Henry said cheerfully.

Artists.

A knock came at the door, and a blonde kid pushed it open. “Henry, you’re needed on the sound stage. And have you seen—oh, Bendy’s right here, perfect. You should know, Mr. Drew is getting anxious.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be right there,” Henry said. “Do you mind coming downstairs, Mr. Valiant? Knowing Joey, if he doesn’t see you with his own eyes he’ll end up keeping you waiting a while.”

Eddie just gestured for Henry to lead the way.

There was a lift to the lower floors, Henry explained, but the sound stage was only one floor down. The stairs were easier. Bendy hopped up on Henry’s shoulder and Henry didn’t even blink; Roger saw this, looked at Eddie hopefully, and Eddie ignored him.

All things considered, the studio was nothing special compared to the kinds of setups you saw in LA, but you wouldn’t know it from the way Henry spoke proudly about starting the studio with Joey Drew, creating Bendy and building the studio into a strong contender, expanding the staff to a fair size, if smaller than some other studios of the same age—coming up on fifteen years.

There was one weird thing, though.

“What’s with the pipes?” Eddie said, of the clear plexiglass pipes carrying a trickle of some dark black substance. The pipes seemed to run (and drip) everywhere in the building, from the lobby to the offices to the stairwells.

Henry didn’t even need to look to know what Eddie was talking about. “Much like your being here, a result of Joey panicking. I’m still not all that sure about it myself, I was a little distracted with a newborn, but I have my suspicions. Around that time, before Bendy became real, the studio was having some trouble. We couldn’t really keep up with the larger studios out west. I’m thinking Joey got pulled in by a conman, he was desperate but it could happen to anyone—”

Bendy cut in when it was clear Henry was going to keep rambling and making excuses. “Joey wanted to try and use some hunk-a-junk ‘Old Man-in-a-Can’ to try and make me real. Not to, uh, doubt him? But let’s just say I’m real glad Henry pulled it off before the machine ever got off the ground.”

Eddie made a sour face. “Hold on, hold on, he tried to build a machine to make Toons?”

“Well, yes,” Henry said, wincing. “Don’t get me wrong, Joey’s my best friend, but he can be a little…”

“Short-sighted. Impulsive. Dumb as a box of rocks,” Bendy said.

“Anyways! It was a mess from the beginning, but it never would have worked, Joey’s Ink Machine,” Henry said. “I saw the blueprints once, most of the writing was some nonsense scribbles. He’s embarrassed by it, really. But it’d be expensive and messy to take it all apart, it’s just been left as it is.”

“A monument to stupidity,” Bendy quipped, and Henry shook his head.

Joey Drew was even more of an eccentric than rumor claimed, then. Bringing Toons to life without needing an Old Man? He wasn’t the first person to try, but there was a reason that studios still employed Old Men. The attempts ended in spectacular failure, and the failures were well-publicized. From what Eddie knew, nobody had really tried to do it in at least ten years. The general conclusion was that it was impossible to replicate an Old Man’s power. Joey must have been really desperate.

The sound stage on B1 was a raucous mess of people moving back and forth trying to get their jobs done. Above the sound crew setting up and testing mics, above artists organizing work, above the cleanup crew getting out of the way, a man’s booming voice dominated the room. “Somebody shut off that fan! I want that playback ready to go on cue this time! And where is Bendy?”

Crew moved aside as somebody pushed their way through, and there was a man Eddie recognized from his picture in the papers, looking a little red in the face from exertion and the stage lights. Joey Drew was a white man standing at about six foot tall, built sturdy. His facial hair was grown out and a little unkempt, and already light hair was shot through with gray. He had clever eyes and laugh lines.

“Finally!” Joey declared. His voice was deep and booming, filling the space he was in. He pointed a finger at Bendy as though in accusation. “Just where did you run off to? After everything that’s happened, I would think you—”

Henry grabbed Joey’s hand and forced it down. “Give it a rest, Joey. He was upstairs in my office, meeting Mr. Valiant.”

“Wait, Valiant?” Joey said, and for the first time he looked at Eddie. His face was starting to return to a healthier pallor. “Mr. Valiant!” Joey exclaimed, with no small amount of relief, and he laughed. “Goodness, I didn’t expect you here so early!” It was almost four in the afternoon. “Oh, but it is wonderful to meet you in person, put ‘er there.”

They shook hands, and Joey’s grip was firm. “Mr. Valiant, please do forgive me, but could I have just one minute and then we can go back upstairs.”

Eddie waved him along. Joey pulled Henry and Buddy up towards the sound stage, clapping Henry on the back and they chatted amiably as they went out of sight. Eddie took a few steps off to the side to lean against a wall in a mostly unoccupied corner. A janitor in denim coveralls was leaning over a trash can, rooting around in the garbage.

“Lose something?”

The janitor jumped and hit his head on the edge of the trash can and stood up straight massaging the bump. He was a young black man, in his early twenties at best. “Nope, didn’t lose nothing! I was just, uh…” He had a strong Brooklyn accent. “Definitely did not lose my keys, nosiree…”

“Don’t worry about it, kid, no skin off my nose,” Eddie said, and then he rethought it. “Just one question, though, how long have you been missing your keys?”

The janitor, his name tag said Wally, looked at Eddie funny. “Uh, I had them an hour ago? But thanks, anyways. Oh, hell, I’m outta here,” Wally said suddenly, and darted away as Joey returned.

Joey had his attention split as he opened a small vial. It looked a little like something Eddie’s girl Dolores had ordered out of the Sears catalog, some oil that was supposed to relieve stress but mostly the strong smell just gave Eddie a headache. Running a cartoon studio, though, Joey probably needed all the stress relief he could get.

Joey sniffed the contents of the vial and made a face. “Blast it, I think it’s gone bad. Mr. Valiant, does this smell like lemon to you?” Joey said as he suddenly shoved the vial in Eddie’s face. Eddie reflexively pushed it away but not fast enough to avoid catching a whiff of something that was not lemon, but smelled a lot like eggs that had been rotting for months. Eddie turned away to cough and retch.

“What the hell?” Eddie spat as Joey was laughing. Roger came closer to investigate, caught the scent directly, turned green, and dropped to the floor stiff as a board clutching a drooping flower between his hands.

“Ha-ha! Oh, dear, I just couldn’t resist!” Joey said as he wiped his eyes, tearing up from laughing so hard at Eddie. Eddie just scowled at him. “Oh, don’t be like that, Mr. Valiant, it was just a joke.” He corked the vial and replaced it in his coat pocket. The smell was still present, but Joey seemed unperturbed. He tapped a finger on the side of his nose. “Can’t smell a thing, never been able to, makes the gag just a little more convincing.”

“Yeah, well, right now I’m wishing I couldn’t smell.” Eddie really had regained his sense of humor since the Acme case, but that didn’t mean he had the patience for some guy who thought that Acme Brand Stink SyrupTM was a replacement for an actual joke.

“Oh, for the love of, I’m sorry, alright? It won’t happen again,” Joey said, and to his credit he sounded pretty genuine.

“Right, well, I’d like to get to work, if you’re done playing pranks.”

“Now hold your horses, Mr. Valiant, there’s no need to be hasty. A minute one way or the other won’t make much of a difference.”

Eddie begged to differ, but made himself shut up and stay put. It was hard when Roger was standing behind Joey waggling his finger and making faces.

“There we go. Now, Mr. Valiant, tell me, have you ever seen an Old Man use their power?”

“You kiddin’? I’m from LA, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting an Old Man.”

Joey pouted at him. “Well, I personally never get tired of watching.” He turned back toward the sound stage.

The crew was settling and clearing the space, and on the sound stage Henry was with an assistant artist on one side and the director on the other, looking over a drawing done by the assistant with Henry’s guidance and input.

There were no bright colors or auditory cues when an Old Man went to work. There was just an invisible shift in the air, like the way light passing through a gap in the curtains moved across the wall. And as Henry’s eyes passed over the empty space, the image in the drawing was reproduced in three dimensions. The floor became a city street, the back wall, a store front. A couple of lamp posts, a manhole cover, the sidewalk, all of it rounded and polished and matching the style of Drew Studios’ cartoons.

So there was still some wonder at seeing drawings come to life. Everybody was watching quietly, but nobody seemed quite as happy as Henry, even after using his power so many times. It was never mundane to him, how could it be?

As it was drawn by another artist, the set would only last a couple of hours before turning to dust. Only if Henry drew it himself would it be permanent. Nobody quite knew how that power worked, but there was a consistent set of rules to how it could be used.

When the set was completed, Henry was perspiring and grinning. The page in his hand had started spontaneously leaking ink from the center out, and by the time he was done it was soaked through with black ink.

Henry took a step back, and like that, the spell was broken, and everybody went straight back to work.

Joey clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie jumped. “Alright, then, let’s get to business.”

Joey’s office was three times the size of Henry’s, significantly more organized, with significantly fewer personal touches. The left wall had a bookshelf mostly filled with knick-knacks, and the right wall had a couple of newspaper clippings, a magazine cover, and a poster for the Butcher Gang. It was a little chilly, the vent was wide open. Eddie made Roger wait outside the office, which carried its own risks, but it was at least a calculated one.

“So, Henry already told you what’s happened?” Joey said as he stepped behind his desk.

“More or less. You want me to find Alice.”

“That’s exactly right, Mr. Valiant. It’s been madness this past week, I’m at my wit’s end. Speaking of, I really am sorry about the state I was in when you first came downstairs, it’s just been…difficult,” Joey said. “We’re all so worried about her, the police only mocked me, and I shudder to imagine what could have happened to her.”

“Mm-hm,. You gotta understand, Mr. Drew, you’re not giving me a lot to work off of here, and I can’t guarantee I’m gonna find her. It’s not easy to hurt a Toon, but it ain’t hard for a smart Toon to make themselves disappear.”

Joey shook his head. “I hope she isn’t hurt, but even if she did run away, she couldn’t possibly have done it without help.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Just what I said. Alice, and Bendy and Boris as well, they’re all clever, but not particularly, what’s the word, worldly. They don’t really leave the studio very often, and when they do they usually have a chaperone, either myself or Henry.”

Eddie squinted at him. “No offense, Drew, but that’s a little funny to keep Toons locked up in a studio.”

“Not locked up, goodness!” You make it sound like they’re here against their wills!” Joey said, visibly appalled. “But, Mr. Valiant, this isn’t Los Angeles. There isn’t a haven like Toontown here in New York, but people aren’t any kinder to Toons here than they are in California. Do you recall Fleisher Studios?”

“Sure I know ‘em. Hell, my brother and I worked for ‘em once back in the day. They, uh…” Eddie frowned as he recalled the details. Had to be spring of ’42, Fleischer Studios was going defunct. The case wasn’t actually for Max Fleischer, Valiant & Valiant were hired by Betty Boop and Bingo after the couple moved to California along with some other Fleischer Bros. Toons.

Eddie wet his lips. “Right. The stalker.”

Now it was coming back to him. Betty had a stalker who had been harassing her for some six months. The creep wasn’t subtle about it, but he was a human and she was a Toon, so the NYPD would not do a think about it, and the stalker even followed Betty and Bingo all the way across the country. They had been afraid he might try to hurt one or both of them, so Teddy got Betty and Bingo safely to Toontown while Eddie waited at the motel room and gave the stalker the scare of his life. The involvement of Valiant & Valiant did not make the papers, but word of mouth still spread the story among the Toons.

“Alright, I get what you mean.”

“Thank you, Mr. Valiant,” Joey said, relaxing a little and smiling gratefully. “It’s incidents just like that one that make me fear for the safety of my Toons. They haven’t expressed any interest in living somewhere else, so I’m only too happy to let them have a home here.”

Persuasive guy, Eddie thought. “So, whether she left of her own will or not, somebody else had to be involved. That’s definitely something to look into. Still can’t guarantee anything, but I can do some digging.”

“Fantastic,” Joey said, flashing a big grin. “About your compensation, I admit that this work is a little nebulous and the time frame is going to be uncertain.”

“At least a couple days.”

“I thought as much. We’ll stick with the daily rate we agreed upon plus expenses, yes? You do have a reputation for results, and for being a man of strong morals, so I think I can trust that you won’t sit back and do nothing.”

This was already going better than Eddie feared it would. “That sounds damn fair, Mr. Drew.”

And they shook on the agreement.

“So Alice lives here in the studio, but does she have any friends outside of it?”

“Ah, I wouldn’t know, I speak with her less than I would like,” Joey said, as he went to write out a check for the first day of work.

“Then who would know?”

“Well, Henry is certainly closest with the Toons,” Joey said. “But he’s a tad busy at the moment, and rather worn out. Otherwise, she spends quite a bit of time around our Music Director, Sammy Lawrence. You’re welcome to speak to him, the lift can take you down to level B4. I only ask that you avoid going into sound stage while it is in use. Level C is under construction but the button on the lift is disabled anyways. And there is one room on this level you will pass on the way to the lift, it’s boarded up, but that is the site of a, eh, project that didn’t work out.”

“The Ink Machine?”

Joey’s lip curled. “So, Henry told you about that, did he? Wonderful. Nevertheless, I recommend staying clear. And that goes double for Roger. The last thing I need is Disney on me, on top of everything else.”

That, at least, Eddie could understand.

When Eddie went to leave, he was relieved to find Roger was just where he left him, now chatting with that same janitor from downstairs. Wally wasn’t doing his job in the slightest, but was leaning on his mop with the bucket left right where somebody could step in it.

“Wally! Perfect timing!” Joey boomed, and Wally nearly fell over in surprise, stood upright, and grinned. “You can show Mr. Valiant—”

“Show him the door! On it, boss!” Wally said, dropping his mop and pushing his sleeves up.

“Show him the lift, Wally!” Joey interjected.

“Show him the lift! On it, boss!” Wally said in the same tone, fixing his sleeves and adjusting his cap.

Joey clapped his hands together. “Well, Mr. Valiant, on behalf of every one of my employees, I wish you could luck. I believe in you, Eddie, and with the power of belief, nothing is impossible.” He was beaming, and there was a twinkle in his eye.

Eddie nodded and touched the brim of his hat. “Let’s get going, Roger.”

The door closed loudly behind them.

“So, you find your keys?” Eddie said.

“Huh? Oh, yeah!” Wally said, and kept on walking as he fished out a keyring and jangled it. Roger was intensely fascinated by the keys. “And now I get why you were so curious about when I lost ‘em, if they’d been lost a while somebody might’ve used them to break in.”

“Smart kid,” Eddie said dryly. It really had been his concern.

“Don’t think it’s that much. Aw, geez, Eddie Valiant. My aunt’s wild about that true crime stuff. Uh! Not that I’m gonna mention anything about it until after you’re done,” Wally added quickly. Again, smarter than some of the people Eddie had worked for in the past. “You are here to find Alice, right? She’s quite a gal, just hope she’s alright.”

Wally took Eddie down a hall, past administrative offices, and down a small flight of stairs to a break room. In the back corner was the lift Joey told him about.

“Hey, so, I couldn’t help but overhear a little,” Wally said. “You’re gonna go talk to Mr. Lawrence?”

“’Overheard,’ huh?” Eddie said doubtfully. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Can I give you a piece of advice?” Wally crossed his arms and slouched. “Sammy’s pretty much always angry at everybody, and it’s easy to cheese him off. He’s just damn good at makin’ music so everybody puts up with him. But, if you want to start out on his good side, offer him a cigarette. He’ll probably turn you down, but he’ll be a little easier to talk to.”

And that was why you were polite to the janitors: they had the dirt on everyone. “Offer him a cigarette, huh? I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, kid.”

“Yeah, well, no problem, Mr. Valiant,” Wally said. He held out his hand. Eddie frowned, but he shook the proffered hand. “Good luck finding Alice.”

“…Yeah.”

Weird kid, but Eddie had met weirder in just the last hour. Eddie pushed his hands into his pockets.

The lift was a little rickety and very slow, but better than too fast. Eddie pulled the grate shut, and Roger insisted on pushing the button, but at least he didn’t push all the buttons.

As the lift slowly descended, Eddie lit a cigarette. He set his jaw, and noticed Roger looking at him eagerly. “What?”

“I know that face, that’s the Eddie Valiant Thinkin’ Face!”

The worst part was that Roger wasn’t wrong. He really had been thinking.

Eddie tapped his cigarette and said, “You ever see an Old Man work, Roger?”

Roger perked up. “Oh, sure plenty of times! Not as much at Disney, but at Maroon Cartoons, all the time!”

“So, you know what it looks like and you saw when Henry made the set a bit ago. You notice anything weird about it?”

“Huh, weird?” Roger said, and he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, now that you mention it…” He tilted his head to the side. “I ain’t never seen an animator get so tired after Old-Manning. It’s usually easy for ‘em, right? But Henry looked like he was gonna pass out by the end of it.”

Ignoring the interesting turn of phrase, Eddie nodded. “What else?”

“Uh, oh, yeah, and the paper he was using!” Roger exclaimed. “It got all gross and inky, made a whole big mess! I’ve never seen anything like that happen before?”

“Me neither. I already felt like something was up, but now I’m sure of it.” Eddie pulled out the paper that Wally had quietly given him while they shook hands and held the note up to Roger. “Something stinks at this studio.”

Written in a heavy hand were the words:

DON’T TRUST JOEY DREW

[againstalloddshq]

BASICS

NAME: Samuel Dwight Evans AGE & BIRTHDAY: 23 | May 5 OCCUPATION: Guitar Teacher / Aspiring Comic Artist SEXUALITY: Bisexual / Biromantic FROM: Lima, OH

He is currently SINGLE, but his endgame is BLAM.

BIOGRAPHY

Family over everything. If there was one lesson Dwight and Mary Evans wanted their children to take with them as they went about their lives, that would be it. From the moment Sam could understand, his parents worked hard to remind him that even if he felt like he had nothing else, he would always have his family. Even though people liked to assume otherwise, Sam was a smart kid so he knew how lucky he was, and he made sure his siblings also knew it when they joined the Evans clan. There was a 9 year gap separating Sam and his brother Stevie, and 12 years between he and little Stacey, and so Sam liked to think he was like their mentor. Like Yoda. Stevie and Stacey were his Jedi younglings, ready to learn all about the big bad world from wise old middle schooler Sam. He had a whole twelve-plus years of life experience under his belt that he could pass on to his siblings. Like knowing about fractions and having read Tuck Everlasting. Stuff like that.

Which, Sam liked to point out, was a whole bunch of bullshit, but maybe that was because math equations and reading chapter books were a lot harder for him than they seemed to be for other kids. While he felt like a big shot at home when his toddler siblings laughed at his funny faces, school was another story. Sam felt...small. He wasn’t someone who retreated into his shell easily; he had a huge personality (and a smile to match), but his difficulties in school made him want to disappear sometimes. His teachers and parents knew it was a problem and they wanted to help him.

The testing was pretty bad, but everyone promised Sam that finding out if something was going on would be worth it. As it turned out, there was something, and that something was dyslexia. He started having these weekly sessions to monitor his progress and find some ways to make math and reading and writing easier. The weekly sessions became biweekly, then monthly, then they were just every once in a while, and eventually Sam’s dyslexia wasn’t something that made him feel so small anymore. It was just something he had, just one of his Things, and he felt like he could breathe again.

Most importantly, he could make his siblings laugh again, and wasn’t that just the most important thing in Sam’s short life thus far?

After all, family was everything. And that turned out to be super important when Sam was sixteen and things spiraled downhill. Mary had been a stay-at-home mom since Sam’s birth and it worked out perfectly with Dwight’s job, but that obviously wasn’t the case when he lost it. Desperation set in when they suddenly no longer owned their house. Sam was a sophomore in high school needing to come to terms with the fact that he and his family were homeless. Just like that.

Enter Carole Hudson and her son, Finn. The Hudsons had been friends of theirs since Mary used to babysit Finn when he and Sam were little. Sam had great memories with him from when they were tiny, and now they were on the football team together and suddenly Sam was the one being dumped on Finn’s doorstep rather than the other way around. Except he was sixteen and not two, so it was a lot more humiliating. But Finn wasn’t judgmental. He didn’t bat an eye at the fact that Sam and Stevie shared an air mattress on his bedroom floor for the better part of a year, nor the fact that Stacey slept sandwiched between their parents on the Hudsons’ pullout couch downstairs. The Evans-Hudson clan was one big, dysfunctional, not-quite-family in that time, and Sam never forgot it. Sam and Finn both worked after-school jobs and the money they made went to their families. When Dwight landed a job that would get them back on their feet, Carole insisted they stick around until they were sure they would be okay. Needless to say, birthdays and holidays always included the Hudsons.

So it was really no surprise when, after high school, Sam and Finn decided to go somewhere together. Both families had gone through hell and back in their own ways and all parties involved were excited to see what the boys would accomplish. They took what money they had been able to save from their after school jobs, found a super cheap apartment, and jetted off to New York City. It was terrifying. Everything was loud and fast-paced but Sam had ideas for what he maybe wanted to do with his life. He was creative and, let’s be honest, easy on the eyes, and NYC seemed to be all about the aesthetic. Sam didn’t want to go to college (at least, not right away; it just didn’t seem like it was for him) but figured that after some adjusting, he’d fit right in.

But there didn’t seem to be a place for him at first. Sam had continuously struggled to find his true passion. To be honest, most of his focus all throughout his teens had been on his body. He worked hard to look good; more than that, he felt like he had to. School obviously never came easy to him, and while he loved music, he knew he wasn’t the best the world had ever seen. He was a mediocre artist at best (though, realistically, he knew that sort of thing took time). All in all, there didn’t seem to be anything incredibly unique about him --- not until people started noticing the way he looked. And if Sam could find a career through that, well...if you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?

So modeling seemed like a safe bet. There were a whole bunch of places he could start. It wasn’t easy, though. In fact, it was anything but. While Finn worked at a grocery store, Sam was waiting tables so they could pay their bills. Neither had a super solid plan. Sam was going out on casting calls and auditions for male models but getting consistent rejections along the way. He got discouraged a lot, thinking that maybe he should be in college and pursuing something practical after all, but then it happened. Almost a year into their New York City adventure, he booked a gig. It was just for a little winter clothes catalogue, but it was something. Sam was finally going to make money off of his body! ...And like, yeah, there were better ways to phrase that, but it was true.

The modeling scene was still tough, even as Sam continued to slowly book jobs. He had just turned 20, having been at it for about a year already when he came across the one face that made it much easier: that of a girl named Quinn, the photographer at one of his shoots. Sam was absolutely mesmerized by her. They hooked up and never spoke again, and while she turned his world upside down for a night, it was sort of a wake up call for him. Though there was clearly something between them that brought them together, it wasn’t just about his body. Modeling in general, however, was only about his body. Quinn wasn’t superficial, but everyone else was.

He kept rolling along in his modeling career, getting increasingly busier with meetings and auditions, and along the way he would meet people who would hit on him, promising him more jobs or networking opportunities and he realized how shallow it all was. Nothing was authentic. None of the feelings were authentic, especially not since his experience with Quinn. It didn’t make him feel proud like he had hoped whatever he did would. He was just making money off of his body. And that had been the point, really, in the beginning; it was all he thought he was good for. But now he was feeling like there had to be something else out there for him. There had to be something that made him feel whole. So he dropped it like it was hot.

He didn’t let himself get discouraged, though. Finn had let go of the acting thing early on and still managed to find his passion. Sam put his creativity to use by picking up his guitar and teaching lessons at a local music shop. He was by no means an expert, but he knew his way around a guitar, so he was qualified enough to teach little kids. He felt so much more fulfilled than he did when he was modeling. He was actually doing something for others rather than getting (almost) naked in front of a camera.

And then there's drawing. He does it for fun, but he’d totally be lying if he said it wasn’t a dream of his to publish his own full length comic book someday. Or an actual book with characters he creates himself. He doesn’t know. He figures he’ll know when the inspiration strikes him. But it feels good to be bettering the lives of others in his own small ways. He’s got his best bros here in the city that never sleeps, a job that he loves, some pretty awesome modeling experience, and of course, his regular Skype dates with his family back home. It’s a big world out there, as Sam is beginning to understand, but he also knows that if he needs it, he’ll always have a place back in Ohio with his family.

He’s sure that nothing can screw up what he’s got going now, though. Obviously.

CONNECTIONS

BLAINE ANDERSON → CO-WORKER → Blaine taught voice/piano lessons at the same music shop where Sam teaches guitar. Sam became quite used to seeing the guy with gelled hair and bowties pass by him. They didn’t often have time to talk, but from the few times they had, Sam learned that he and Blaine have a lot of shared interests, like superheroes, music, and movies. They mostly just bonded over their shared love for what they were doing. But there was always a warm smile and wave whenever they crossed paths.

QUINN FABRAY → HOOKUP/MOTHER OF HIS CHILD → Sam met Quinn when she photographed him for a local catalogue. The modeling scene was still tough, even as Sam continued to slowly book jobs. He had just turned 20, having been at it for about a year already when he came across the one face that made it much easier: that of Quinn Fabray, the photographer at one of his shoots. Sam was absolutely mesmerized by her. He was surprised when she actually agreed to go out with him after their session, and after they hooked up that night, Sam couldn’t stop thinking about her. But they didn’t talk at all afterward. Sam had to imagine that that had something to do with the fact that they didn’t exchange numbers, and he was pretty sure she didn’t even get his last name. Regardless, she turned his world upside down for a night. What Sam doesn’t know is that eventually led to the birth of their son, since he hasn’t had any contact with Quinn since.

FINN HUDSON → BEST FRIEND → Sam’s mom would babysit Finn when the two of them were babies, all the way up until they went to kindergarten. They didn’t stay all that close, unfortunately, since they naturally got busier, but they were football teammates. When Sam’s family lost their home, they went to live with the Hudsons for a year. This naturally brought the two boys together again. Since then, Sam and Finn have been incredibly close and consider each other family. They moved to New York together right out of high school.

ARTIE ABRAMS → ROOMMATE → Artie responded to a posting for a new roommate by Sam and Finn once they realized they totally couldn’t afford living there all on their own. Artie fit right in with them as another broke kid with bright New York dreams. He and Sam found that they had a lot of shared interests, and Artie also tends to be a voice of reason for Sam a lot of the time.

TINA COHEN-CHANG → FRIEND → It’s simple. Sam and Tina met through Artie.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE → FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS → Sam and Sebastian met

✗ Sam is currently TAKEN and played by KIM (21, EST).