#Nathan arch sr

[the-real-nerevar]

Day 28: Regret

[owlclawstudios]

In my aus nathan arch sr is nathan arch's father Nathan arch inherited Steele and oil company but he wanted to own a film studio so in 1948 after the studio went bankrupt and he bought the building when he was in his mid to late 50s

In 1970 he changed the studio name to arch gate pictures

And a few weeks before joeys death he left a will for his older friend Nathan to own the bendy franchise he had survived a previous stroke but it was the second stroke that killsd him.

[mickeys-malarkey]

This series was intended for Bendyversary of 2023… but, life happened. 🫠🔥 1½ years late's better than never? 😅

A Love Letter to TMATM + the Rest of Bendy by Domino Effect Part 1/8:

“Descendants of the Three Kings”

“Reaching Shadow”

[You are here] • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8

[crimsonvelvet]

Meanings of names. Batim/Batdr edition!

Hello there! I'm back with another name meanings list! This time it's the Bendy verse, because it was immortalized (Hehe heh get it) yet again, and I couldn't be more excited.

So! I will be doing the primary characters for both games, BUT not all of them. I’ll be doing all the folks from Batim, since there aren’t as many as in Batdr, which added a TON of new characters and I for the live of me can't do them all. It would take me an eternity, so there... So, I won’t do those who had like one tape or memo. Sorry. I also will not be including characters from the comics or the books. Yeah. (but I can do a part 2 if you guys want ehehehehe)

Let's go!

Toons (not doing the corrupted versions, they’re technically the same)

Bendy. I'm pretty sure that Meatly made it up from the name of some editing program. Something something Bender, not sure.

Boris. From a Bulgar Turkic name, also recorded as Bogoris, perhaps meaning "short" or "wolf" or "snow leopard". Hey! Literally a wolf!

Alice. From the Old French name Aalis, a short form of Adelais, itself a short form of the Germanic name Adalheidis, which means "noble type". Hmm, I like it! Fits her. I’m obviously also counting Twisted Alice and Allison Angel. They all have the same name.

Charley (one of my favourite characters hehehehe). Diminutive form of Charles, which means  "man". Literally. Just man. MAN. That’s it. I guess that fits... Charley is, after all, A MALE. Yeah.

Barley. Means “grower of barley”. Lmao. Just like that.

Edgar.  Derived from the Old English elements ead "wealth, fortune" and gar "spear". I mean... I guess? He has nothing to do with spears, but he’s got fangs. They’re sharp. Spears are sharp.

Humans (from here on going in alphabet order)

Allison Pendle. Norman French diminutive of Aalis, so basically the same as Alice. Cool! She’s very sweet, so it fits for her as well!

Audrey Drew (putting her here because I don’t really count her as an ink entity). Medieval diminutive of Æðelþryð, which is derived from the Old English elements æðel "noble" and þryð "strength". Oh, she sure is strong! 

Bertrum Piedmont. Means "bright raven", derived from the Germanic element beraht "bright" combined with hramn "raven". Uhhmm. Ooook then. Not sure where the raven comes from.

Daniel ”Buddy” Lewek. From the Hebrew name דָּנִיֵּאל (Daniyyel), meaning "God is my judge". Nuuuu, Buddy:(      I still feel very bad for him... Man, poor guy.

Grant Cohen. From an English and Scottish surname that was derived from Norman French grand meaning "great, large". Well, his boss had GRANT plans for the studio (please don’t hurt me, I know the pun is bad).

Henry Stein (the man!). From the Germanic name Heimirich meaning "home ruler", composed of the elements heim "home" and ric "ruler". OOOOHH, i love it! Considering he is the actual creator of Bendy, he technically is the ruler!

Jack Fain. Derived from Jackin (earlier Jankin), a medieval diminutive of John, which itself is derived from the Hebrew name יוֹחָנָן (Yochanan) meaning "Yahweh is gracious". Maybe Jack is jewish? It’s unlikely, but I literally don’t know what to say here.

Joey Dr(ew). Diminutive of Joseph, which was from the Hebrew name יוֹסֵף (Yosef), meaning "he will add". Endless torment, that’s what he’ll add. Ugh, poor Henry.

Lacie Benton. Variant of Lacy. From a surname that was derived from Lassy, the name of a town in Normandy. I couldn’t really find anything else, so...I guess?

Nathan Arch Sr. From the Hebrew name נָתָן (Natan) meaning "he gave". Wha-  what’d he give? A new chance for Bendy to be relevant again? Idk, really.

Nathan ”Wilson” Arch Jr (please don’t hurt me, but I kinda like him as a villain... Like, yeah, he’s creepy as all heck, but isn’t that kinda the point? So there, I said it). I will be doing his moniker, since duh. The name comes from an English surname meaning "son of William". Eeeehhhh, almost fits, just replace William with Nathan.

Norman Polk (eeeeyyyy it’s ma dude!). From an old Germanic byname meaning "northman", referring to a viking. Now that’s interesting. I can’t tell English accents apart very well, but I saw someone say he’s got a southern accent. And then there’s NORTHman. Hmmmm.

Sammy Lawrence. Diminutive of Samuel, coming from the Hebrew name שְׁמוּאֵל (Shemu'el), which could mean either "name of God" or "God has heard". Lmao, I guess his god really did hear him. And decided to fucking murder him.

Shawn Flynn.  Anglicized form of Seán, which on itself is the Irish form of John, so basically the same as Jack.

Susie Campbell. Diminutive of Susan. This was derived from the Hebrew word שׁוֹשָׁן (shoshan) meaning "lily" (in modern Hebrew this also means "rose"), perhaps ultimately from Egyptian sšn "lotus". Oh, maybe those are her favourite flowers!

Thomas Connor. Greek form of the Aramaic name תָּאוֹמָא (Ta'oma') meaning "twin". OH he and Buddy are technically twins! Or, well, clones.

Wally Franks. Diminutive of Walter, which comes from a Germanic name meaning "ruler of the army", composed of the elements wald "rule" and hari "army". Pffft, he’s the ruler of the army that got OUTTA THE STUDIO, yeah ok it fits.

Ink entities (not doing Sammy, Jack and Norman for obvious reasons)

Betty. Diminutive of Elizabeth. From Ἐλισάβετ (Elisabet), the Greek form of the Hebrew name אֱלִישֶׁבַע ('Elisheva') meaning "my God is an oath". The heck- did she turn into Sammy?

Big Steve. Short form of Steven, which derives from the Greek name Στέφανος (Stephanos) meaning "crown, wreath". Uhh, I guess? Is there something that we have yet to discover?

Heidi. German diminutive of Adelheid, which means "noble type", from the French form of the Germanic name Adalheidis. Damn, what’s with all the nobles? Unrelated, but I love her bowtie.

Porter. From an occupational English surname meaning "doorkeeper". Oooohh, ok then, he technically is one.

And that’s it! Whew, took me quite some time. Please do tell me if you want a part two with the other folks! I’m not sure, when (and if) I’ll make it, we’l have to see.

[archer-kacey]

Nathan Arch's Foreward [The Illusion of Living]

Notes

The Illusion of Living was originally released in 1942, then later again in 1972.

Nathan believed that Joey was a positive influence and optimist, and cited readers being "deeply invested in stories about the horrors of the world" as the primary reason why Joey's message wasn't well-received, and why TIOL didn't sell.

Nathan created a private museum filled with as much studio memorabilia as he could get his hands on in an effort to restore Joey's name. (We see this later in BATDR.)

Analysis

Nathan believes Joey was cheated out of success, attempting to rationalize this by...er...blaming the general populace I guess, and their gravitation towards violence and drama when it comes to entertainment. He expresses frustration that Joey was unappreciated and misunderstood until the very end. Arch does everything in his power to clear Joey's name in death, and finally give Joey the recognition he feels he deserves, even going so far as to re-release his autobiography and added any pertinent context via footnotes.

"...some untruths have come to the surface, some rumors and backlash. The fact that the studio collapsed in such an unceremonious fashion, I have no doubt, contributed to the suspicions that Joey Drew was not the genius he truly was."

"My goal is to restore the name of Joey Drew to the history books as one of the greatest contributors to animation the world has ever known."

Nathan also sees Joey's fake-it-'til-you-make-it philosophy as an overall positive message.

"I hope that we can share the positivity of his philosophy and truly make, at long last, Joey Drew's dream come true."

He also hammers home just how important Bendy was to Joey, likening him to being Joey's own child. From everything we know about Joey, this isn't hyperbole, and Nathan Sr. seems to be strangely aware of this fact.

"Bendy was Joey's child, and he felt just as strongly about Bendy as I feel about my flesh-and-blood son."

Nathan also seems to have deeply cared about Wilson, (at least, according to him.) This means that Wilson is most likely a hater

[lucky-dreamfisher]

So whats up with Nathan? I thought there was going to be a darker side or ulterior motive, but it seems he was genuinely interested in honoring Joey's cartoon legacy and unaware of the machine stuff. Or am I missing something?

It's really weird, isn't it? He's so unsuspicious, it's almost suspicious how unsuspicious he sounds. Some of his audio logs don't even play a role in the gameplay, they're really just him saying stuff like "so I was coming back from reading to orphans, when it occurred to me to check up on that soup kitchen for the homeless I've been financing on the side. Isn't being nice just great?".

There's a lot of stuff about him, which doesn't add up. Such as Nathan signing his TIOL intro as "Nathan Arch Sr." implying that his son shares his name, but then the guy is named Wilson instead.

Or how Nathan claims that he only began looking to open an entertainment studio after Joey's death and it was then that his son suggested opening a films studio.

Yet in the books he's called the CEO of Archgate Films, a film studio which existed all the way back in 1963, almost a decade before Joey's death and Nathan beginning to look into expanding his business.

There are two explanations for these discrepancies:

the mundane doylist explanation, that they simply read our theories, saw people figure out the identity of the main villain sooner than they'd hoped, and thought to themselves "shit! we must change it now, to subvert everyone's expectations!". It's happened in some franchises before, MatPat has a video about how sometimes gamedevs will change the lore at the last second because of theorists. That would suck though, because it kind of defeats the point of making theories, not to mention it makes for a worse story

The more interesting watsonian explanation that the tapes aren't what they appear to be. We know that the original ink world was controlled by Joey Drew, and he was a man of regrets. So it makes sense that everything in that world would have been focused on reminding him of his mistakes. The world in BATDR is controlled by Wilson, who was desperate to gain his father's approval. Maybe the "Nathan Arch" we hear in the game isn't the real Nathan Arch, but the Nathan Arch that Wilson wished his father was?

As for Wilson's name and Archgate Films timeline conundrum, perhaps Wilson used be named Nathan Arch, and under this name he's opened a film studio, but then he turned out to be a bad businessman and went bankrupt? Then he simply sold off the studio to his dad and changed his name out of shame for not living up to it. correction: he mentions in one of his notes that he likes to take on disguises when wandering around the company, so “Wilson” is obviously a fake name.

[fascinatedhelix]

Those headcanons I promised:

Audrey:

She was always borderline cartoonishly flexible, she just thought she was double-jointed. She never saw a doctor about it - she’s probably like Steven Universe in that she’s probably never been to a doctor before - she just heard that being abnormally flexible means you must be double-jointed and she never questioned it until she learned she was an ink creature.

Audrey definitely didn’t age like a normal human child, if we’re to think that she hadn’t been around when Henry’s soul was basically photocopied into the Machine in 1963, despite her being a young adult in 1973. I’m thinking of a situation akin to that of Studio Ghibli’s The Tale of Princess Kaguya, where she kind of just grew up in fits and bursts in response to emotional highs. It would certainly correspond well to the alarm clock memory, which places a great deal of importance on time on Joey and Audrey’s parent-child relationship; not only was Joey reaching the end of his life, but Audrey was growing up at an abnormally fast rate.

Again, she wasn’t even aware of how abnormal her entire childhood was until Joey clarified that she wasn’t human.

She was likely homeschooled up until high school, when she stopped growing quite so rapidly, and her “choice to forget” happened when she went off to art college in 1967 or 1968. Joey died when she was just about to graduate.

Audrey, outside of the Cycle, tends to be a bit timid and awkward due to her relatively isolated childhood, and hasn’t the foggiest clue how to deal with actual children. She likes them, but she doesn’t really know what to do with them.

She got into a lot of shit during her college years, given how she was an art student during the whole Flower Power movement. She’s still got hippie clothes in her closet, even if she doesn’t wear them on the job for obvious reasons. She has definitely tried out some drugs; whether or not they worked on her given she’s made of ink is kind of a mystery.

Wilson

He’s actually somewhere in his 50s, but looks and sounds a lot older due to a number of health issues.

On the normal side of things, he was born in the 1920s, back before the health effects of smoking were well understood. Both his parents smoked like chimneys around him as a kid, and he picked up the habit in his young adult years as well.

When he was a young adult, he had one hell of an ego; coming from a ludicrously wealthy and very well liked family, young Nathan Jr had all the classic styling of a spoiled rich kid just looking to get into trouble.

One night he decided to try and show off to some of his peers by engaging in a little old fashioned street racing in the expensive new car his dad got him, and wound up causing a deadly car accident as a result. Not only did this accident result in permanent injuries to his face and chest, losing him his looks and one eye in the process, but it also killed several innocent bystanders.

This incident didn’t just have a majorly negative impact on his health, but it utterly trashed his public reputation and his relationships with his family and peers. Nathan Arch Sr had to make a public statement, his mother was shunned from her usual social groups for a while, and people began to really hate Junior for his arrogance and lack of accountability. He was never quite removed from his parents’ inheritance, but he was slowly phased out of their public image in the hopes of saving face. Perhaps most offensive to Nathan Jr’s sensibilities was how his father had explicitly disinherited him from future ownership of Archgate Films, the company Nathan Jr himself had proposed the idea of starting in the first place. Hence why Wilson drifts in and out of the studio under a pseudonym.

He’s also now got a speeding vehicle phobia; if the man does drive himself places, he insists on going, like, ten below the speed limit.

The Ink Demon/Bendy

Due to most of his experiences with physical contact involving him either getting attacked or tortured or him doing the same to others, he tends to interpret his own feelings of loneliness through a lens of bloodthirst. As in, he tends to think along the lines of “Oh, I don’t need a hug, I just need to kill something!” It doesn’t really help.

Similarly, he tends to be rather skittish towards most forms of physical affection, especially the kind that involve some sense of restricting movement (big example: hugs).

If he does experience romantic or sexual attraction, he’d only do so after having established that person in his mind as... well, a person, rather than a threat or a prey item. They’d have to be demonstrably intelligent, rather than yet another lunatic wandering aimlessly about the studio, they’d have to be strong and/or smart enough to challenge him, and they’d have to demonstrate compassion towards him, even if they knew who he was.

Sammy was kind of like a toxic parent to Bendy back in the early days, given that Sammy was the only person really paying him anything close to “positive” attention way back when. It was Sammy’s influence that gave the Ink Demon his sort of need to play the part of a dark overlord over the Cycle, as well as getting him far too accustomed to killing and eating people at a tender mental age (he was like a feral toddler in DCTL). Hence why the Ink Demon does not like Sammy; even if he doesn’t totally recognize Sammy as the cause for a lot of his personal problems, he does see Sammy as overbearing and generally unpleasant to be around (especially since I don’t think Bendy can actually control how others turn out from the ink, so Sammy’s pleas are to someone who’s as helpless as he is).

Here’s kinda how I think the Dark Puddles work: it’s kind of its own entity, with its own mysterious motivations beyond the Ink Demon’s scope of influence. A mysterious magical benefactor that may or may not predate the Ink Machine itself. Whatever the case, the Dark Puddles seem most interested in keeping the Cycle flowing, like the circulation of blood through a beating heart. But, of course, fresh blood has to be added to keep things going smoothly, and the Dark Puddles bestow gifts to those who offer it something new, whether it’s having enough sanity to try something different each rotation or being able to bring in external influences. However, it doesn’t like Wilson, because he is not there to replenish the Cycle, but to stop it completely and turn it into something it isn’t; he intends on usurping the Dark Puddles for his own pride, rather than creating something great for the sake of it.

[greatearthquakestudent]

The Boys Alternative Universe:  Blitz

Full Names: Reginald Franklin

Aliases:

Reggie

Speedy

Flash

Coach Franklin

 Family:

Nathan Franklin Sr. (Father, Deceased)

Natalie Franklin (Mother, Deceased)

Nathan Franklin Jr. (Older Brother)

Arana (Sister-In-Law)

Khamari Franklin (Nephew)

Desean Franklin (Nephew)

Friends:

John Soldier Man (Best Friend/Teammate)

Maggie Shaw/Queen Maeve (Best Friend/Teammate)

Kevin Moskowitz/Aquaboy   (Best Friend/Teammate)  

Kimiko Miyashiro/Black Noir II (Best Friend/Teammate)  

Kenji Miyashiro/Mindstorm II (Close Friend/Teammate)

Billy Butcher (Frenemies/teammate)

Annie January/Starlight (Close Friend/teammate)

Enemies:

Klara Risinger/Stormfront (Attempted Murder)

Vought International  

Ingrid Risinger/Sky Flyer (Formerly, Deceased)

Blue Hawk (Arch-Enemy)

Affiliation: Payback 2.0

Occupation: 

Cross Country Coach

Member of Payback

Powers:

Superhuman Speed

Superhuman Reflexes

Superhuman Agility

Superhuman Strength

Superhuman Durability

Superhuman Metabolism

Superhuman Stamina

Aerokinesis

Accelerated Perception

Regenerative Healing Factor

Abilities: 

Athleticism

Hand-to-Hand Combatant (Advanced Level)

Charisma

Multilingual: (English, Spanish, Sign Language)

Weakness:

Psychological:

Loyalty

Emotions

Competitiveness

Biological:

Blunt force

Metabolism

Equipment:

Blitz suit

Shades

Personality: After his parent died, A-train was raised by to carry on morals of their family. He’s nice and hark-working who inspires to reach their potential. He also loyal his family and friends. But also he can very to competitive which affect his judgements.

[mickeys-malarkey]

Intrigued as to what they changed, myself, as I wait for my copy (supposed to be delivered today). The fact that, just on the cover, they not only changed from a lively illustration of Bendy to two stiff cardboard cutouts, but Miss Angel is on the cutouts’ right, Mr. Dancing Demon is on their left, and the background has transitioned from mostly gray to mostly yellow is already fascinating to me because all of that goes along with my theories on the symbolism of Joey's Angel & Devil play, Wilson's eyes in the Real vs. Ink World vs. his posters, left vs. right in general, the apparent Joey-&-Susie mannequins in Wilson's mansion, how Nathan Sr. has been hard at work editing the Official™ version of history in both the Real World as himself and the Ink World as the Memory of Joey (cause throughout the whole series, black-&-white/silver/grayscale seems to represent Joey's truth whilst sepiatone/gold/yellowing represents Nathan Sr.'s lies), etc…

“…I remember this night well. Though I remember it being at the Bee Room, gold and black, not [the] silver [that Joey describes] as the main design aesthetic. Doesn’t really make much of a difference though, I suppose.” ~ Nathan Arch Sr., The Illusion of Living, pg. 44 (emphasis added)

I expect some interesting things outta an updated edition of what I've theorized is actually Nathan Sr.'s scrapbook of his favorite parts of orchestrating JDS's downfall. 👀

Hey gang! Today is the release day for the updated version of the Bendy Employee Handbook. I went on a trip to my local Barnes and Noble and found it, there was only one on the shelf.

The way this was advertised was that it was the old handbook plus new information to act as a game guide for Dark Revival. My reason for picking this thing up was less about what they added and more about whether or not things would be changed from the original version. To no one's surprise, things were in fact changed! But not in the ways I expected. I'd like to make a post talking about it later, I've got a lot of thoughts.

That said, if any of you have questions about this book, feel free to pop into my askbox and ask them. I've gotta get cooking (literally, I'm making bacon soup for dinner shortly here) but I'll try to answer later this evening or tomorrow. A reminder, please try to tag your spoilers for this book if you post about it. There's not really a lot to spoil, but you know me by now, I care about letting people experience things at their own pace.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Nathaniel “Nathan Jr” Arch

One day I’ll design Nathan Sr. One day...But not today. Today is about the illusive Nathan Jr. I like the idea that he might be the actual founder and owner of Archgate Films, it just makes sense to me that Nathan himself wouldn’t really bother to tap into the entertainment industry. But that does beg the question...Why is he the one in charge now, and where is his son?

Perhaps you might get a not so tangible glimpse of that in Out of Bounds ;)

[the-real-nerevar]

(Late) Day 18: Rival (ft little Wilson)

[multi-level-shipper]

Nathan Arch Sr

"i could fix him" yeah? well i could accept him as he is. you don't like the murder? grow up. the atrocities are part of him and ive decided they're funny

[mickeys-malarkey]

A Love Letter to TMATM + the Rest of Bendy by Domino Effect Part 3/8: “The Mug, the Witch, and the Danger”

(Please excuse the occasional labelled silhouette people, ya gotta do whatcha gotta do when your wrist's angry… 😅)

1 • 2 • [You are here] • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8

[sonofhistory]

CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO

Dedicated to @gettallmadge and gifted to @maryabolkonskaya

American History RPF 18th Century CE RPF

Nathan Hale (1755-1776)/Benjamin Tallmadge

Benjamin Tallmadge, Nathan Hale, Reverend Benjamin Tallmadge, Susannah Smith Tallmadge (1729-1768), William Tallmadge (1752-1776), Other Character Tags to Be Added

Lost Love, Family, Domestic Bliss, Memories, Separate Childhoods, Childhood, Growing Up, Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Religion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Part of the Halemadge || Pythias & Damon series

Word Count Thus Far: 6,242 Chapter 2/?

___________________

February 24th, 1754 || 11:04 pm

Setauket, New York

----- I -----

         It would perhaps become the theme of his existence: Benjamin Tallmadge was born during a storm. The icy wind caused the windows to rattle and frost coated the panes so thickly as one could not see past the frame. The roof swayed, cracking underneath the weight of the heavens and the father couldn’t help but pace the hallway wondering--worrying if the walls were going to cave in on them. He heard the agony down the hall and late hours of the morning were pulling upon his eyelids. He rubbed them, resisting the urge to press thumbs against his ears. The fingers of his hand were beginning to quiver. He faltered to his study. William was in bed upstairs, the one and a half year old seemed able to sleep through a hurricane. He shut the door of his study behind him, he couldn't hear anything more in here, however he deluded himself that he was amending the issue.

         The snow whistled outside, beating against the earth ferociously, the pads of his fingers nestled against the bridge of his nose and he sunk into his desk chair. Chaos surrounded the home but he could never fall in love with its warmth. Worry churned in his abdomen, it was eleven at night and before he could stop himself, his eyelids shut, forehead slamming into the surface of his desk.

____________________

         There was a hand on his shoulder, the rocking sway of the palm grew more violent every passing thrust and Benjamin Tallmadge Sr. leapt his head off the desk with a start. He wondered how long he’d been asleep and his adjusting eyes caught the horizon seeping in through the windows, gliding over the carpet melting into the carpet, the room looked as if it were on fire. A rouge film transfixed the glass, he swallowed, his eyelids kept locking and he struggled to keep them patent. Naught came into focus but the name Susannah. His mouth parted to form words but the doctor blocked him in tracks, placing a comforting palm on his shoulder, their eyes meeting.

         “She’s fine.”

         Relief colored his cheeks, he felt a sort of new sense of life throbbing in his throat. He rose from his seat on unsteady footing.

         “Take me to her.”

________________________

         He observed her from the bedroom doorway for a moment before joining her at the bedside. There was hesitation rustling deep within his bones that he could not settle correctly however much his feet led his form forward with a purpose and determination twitching within him. She looked healthier than last time, he noticed, her blonde hair sticking sweatily to the creases of her forehead. The child was nestled in her arms, it was asleep.

         “You’re here”, her mouth upturned into a strong smile, and he couldn’t help return him. He pulled himself closer across those sheets, linked at the hips. He stared down onto the tiny face, holding his breath. It was a son and the air released from his lungs, plunging deeper into emotion. A mop of sticky curls matted his forehead looking like melting caramel, tiny fists clenched to his chest and he studied the rise and fall of his weak and little chest. Benjamin supposed it was a beautiful thing, human nature, and the way everyone hungers for life. It was that alone that caused life to blossom: the tug toward chaos and love. He sighed and the air was solemn, there was no wind, there was no storm and sunlight was beginning to stream through the icy window panes, illuminating the bed.

         William stumbled into the room some time after, rubbed his eyes still in his night shirt, crawling over his father, and jabbing elbows into his gut attempting to catch a small glance of the new life. The infant’s face was utterly pale and he cupped William’s hands, blowing on them. To this the toddler gave a giggle and quickly grew bored of his new brother, sliding cautiously from the bed and trotting back to his room.

         "I hope Will knows that room is no longer solely his own," Benjamin trailed his son out of the door, Susannah grinned, baring teeth at this, shutting her eyes when her husband began to murmur prayers underneath his breath.

         However reticent the atmosphere seemed to be, everything was shifting. No matter if the wind was not slamming against the wood and the trees were not ripping from their roots; his second son was born in chaos and was filled with things nobody would understand. They embraced the harmony, and life’s coves of ceaselessness, the brightest hopes were born sometimes in the darkest of places.

         They named the child after his father and the next generation of Tallmadge blinked absently at the ceiling, clinging to his mother’s breast.

----- II -----

         Ben was quiet every night, even when he was young. There was a cradle at the foot of their bed, every night, the silence striking him through, an unease pang of anxiety would come to him and he’d rise from bed, slinking over to his infant’s cradle. Ben was always there and for some odd reason he was always awake, in peace, sucking on the tips of his fingers and shooting his large almond shaped eyes to his father’s face as it loomed a shadow over his blankets. Paternal affection always gripped him and he’d pick the infant up, laying him on his shoulder. It would be early morning before he settled the infant back into his cradle. The child would still be awake, flashing his long dark eyelashes up and tipping his head.

         His father caught a final inch of sleep underneath the covers before the sun inched across the horizon and Susannah twisted awake. She always found Ben awake, opening and closing his mouth as if he always meant to speak but no words came out of his little mouth.

         “You could always simply tell me you are awake,” she remarked, grateful Ben did not cry as William did when he was born. She tucked him underneath her chin and he lay against the warmth of her neck, drinking in her beauty. The top of his head, full of short springing curls tickling her skin and she continued shifting him between arms.

----- III -----

         Her child never uttered a single noise. A few moments during the night, perhaps his restless mind grew exhausted in the afternoon but he was obliging to whatever life proposed to him. Susannah worried at first, cradling Ben against her chin in the study as her husband bounced his Will on his knee, a little giggle of delight shuddering from his aperture.

         She pursed her blushing lips, nibbling a little on the flesh, “Should I be concerned?”

         Benjamin Tallmadge Sr. knitted his brows, arching one slightly but not looking her way as to not alarm William who slipped off his thighs and clamoured to the floor. “What for?”, he inquired.

         “He’s so…”, she was lost in her frame of mind, scraping the sunflower hair off of her forehead and shaking her head.

         “Happy?”, her husband suggested, turning back to his desk.

         “Quiet.” she confirmed, shoulders falling, a little irritated.

         “You get your rest, and he is obliging”, he turned from his seat, shrugging his shoulders, “Whatever is there to complain of?”

         Susannah accepted this, gazing down into Ben’s face, parting the strands of hair off of his temples and he blinked up, mouth twisting somewhat into a smile; she couldn’t help but reciprocate this and she felt suddenly exhausted when he whimpered a little. “Dear, could you please take him?”, there was no coaxing and she handed the child to him, breathing an air of relief and stepping to exit the room. The burden of worlds conveyed, connecting in her chest.

         William glanced up as she held the ends of her dress up when she passed, “Mama?”, he was confused but quickly went back to his toys when she gave a reassuring smile.

         Her palm pressed against the doorway and her shoulders fell, Benjamin’s voice drew her back, “Susannah, he’s special.”

         She tossed a glance back to the desk where her husband was busy cupping a palm behind the infants head as he studied their child. “Does not every parent believe the same?”, she questioned, meaning it to be taken as a joke but it was like her husband could not hear.

         “Our boy has the most dangerous soul, Susannah, it is as if he is a thousand years old and has lived a hundred lives,” he sighed and brushed fingers against the infant’s wide eyelids, “There is beauty in such danger, he owns a soft disposition, and cherishes strength.” Something, she did not understand was, reached its warm finger to her throat. “Ben has your eyes”, the father peeked up from the child and managed an equally exasperating grin that Susannah rolled her copper eyes at.

         “Hm, however, I wonder whose hair he has acquired…”, she fake mocked, twisting her stance and tapping a finger against her chin quizzically.

         “Oh!”, his blue eyes revolved to tiny slits and he patted his stock of unruly brown curls that was beginning to gray at the roots, unable to be tucked behind his ears. “Do you believe I wished this upon myself?”

         She laughed, not replying and stepped out of the room, shutting the room behind her as she went.

----- IV -----

         Spring descended on the valley, shamrock coating the hills and the branches that seemed like ghosts, were beginning to bloom to life. The roses twisted from their cedar leaves across the stairs rather picturesquely. William sat beside Ben on the grass, the infant lying on his back, staring at the sky growing rather amused whenever his older brother began taking his toy soldiers and marching them comically across his chest. Susannah shielded her eyes from the sun and squinted at her sons, she smiled, turning away to her garden again, rubbing a bead of sweat off of her forehead with the back of her hand. The ships in the harbor bobbed like tiny white ducks, cutting into the murky sea. A feeling of dread overtook her and she rested her fingertips gently against where her heart lay underneath the muscle and bone.

         She imaged them not being there. She swallowed, casting her glance back at her boys, beginning to breath a little heavier. She shook the thought from her head, but her fingers were quivering. She dropped the spade to the soil, viewing the ground as she rounded the fence, joining William and Ben on the terrace. She swept Ben into her arms and seated herself beside them. She shuddered as she felt Ben’s hand grab her finger as if he presumed something that she did not. It was there and she learned to appreciate the silence, regarding his all-knowing eyes with a certain peculiarity. There was something lingering behind the irises and she could only catch glimpses as his eyes cleared it every time he blinked.  

----- V -----

         It was summertime before Ben met his grandparents for the very first time. It was at her husband’s urging that she made the journey to White Plains via carriage. William fell asleep on her lap and she rubbed his small head with a ringed hand, cradling Ben’s skull into the crook of the neck; for once he had fallen asleep and she blamed the exhausting heat. She fanned herself with an open book, propping her feet up rudely on the seat in front of her, trying to cushion herself so that the roll of the wheels did not jolt her from her seat or knock her children from her grasp. A sigh blew past Susannah’s lips and she tossed her head back, shutting her eyes for a moment.

         She loved her parents. She appreciated her father’s quiet kindness and sweet smiles; anyone learned to love the echo of her mother’s voice like rain patting a tiny roof, bouncing straight back, hopping into your chest and settling you with a distinguished type of glee. Mehitable Smith was open, a commodity only at fault when words escaped without any thought towards them. Her father, John would not stop fawning over William and the child bounded up the steps, wrapping arms around his grandfather’s neck before the elder sat him on his shoulder to shrill giggles. Ben awoke in this moment, cooed and leaned his head up. Heavy footsteps crossed the porch, the large smile of her mother, Mehitable glistened against the sun as a crystal mirror before tearing the child from her arms.

         “Let us see him now, Suzy!”, Ben seemed perplexed by this strange woman and placed his fingers into his mouth and soaking in her joy like rain. Susannah won’t publicly admit a little envy pulsated among her organs and she pursed her lips before giving her mother a stiff kiss on the cheek.

         The crows feet crinkled around Mehitabel's eyes, her eldest son's eyes she recognized knowing hers were not the same shade; those lay with her father’s spirit. As her mother carried Ben off into the house and she was left surrounded by their baggage, she slumped. Ben would never meet his father’s parents, even Susannah had never met them, they had died before she met her husband. She never forced him to speak of them, for when a slight mention slipped delicately into conversation, his eyes softened, deepening as a deer’s orbs.

         It didn’t take her long to lug all of the baggage (by herself) into the home. “Suzy, would you need any help?”, her mother emerged from the kitchen rocking Ben as if attempting to console him though he had not cried.

         “No, mother,” she replied, longing to hold Ben again in her arms. Her mother had never met her newest grandchild and she respected this however much it tensed her nerves. “I hope he is not giving you much trouble”, Susannah already knew the answer and smoothed the lace of her collar, flattening her hair back where it was beginning to fray from the humidity.

         That charming grin appeared, emerging as if from a cloudy day, “He’s the quietest child, oh darling, how marvelous he is.” Susannah was pleased, nibbling on her lip and not yet asking for him again. Mehitable watched her eagerly through sparkling, starving eyes.

         “Come on,” she beckoned, “to the kitchen.”

_______________________

         Dinner was bleak and though she had not appetite she nibbled slightly on her potatoes with the prongs of her fork and lulled Ben in her lap, offering him bites every once and awhile. He would only take the morsel after he’d seen her offer it hungrily to herself. William sat on her left kicking his feet out underneath the table with too much energy; she didn’t want to count the times she begged him to quit his actions, he only giggled and did not listen. Her mother attempted conversation but Susannah was much too tired to continue on, her utensils seemed to drag lazily to her lips as if it were lead. Mehitable Smith was an outspoken woman, it was bold, and her words were constantly laced with endearment; in some ways it was a flaw. Her tongue winded on like silk weaving with rusting edges to contain the silver underneath.

         Mehitable chewed a little bread, placing a glass of wine to her tongue, “He’s a little chubby, Suzy”.

         Susannah was caught off guard, feeling the dim exhaust of the candle begin to shed her eyelids in drowsiness. She eyed her mother and straightened her posture, glaring over at the end of the table where her father was beginning to blink nervously between the two. Mehitable did not to notice the tension, shuffling her plate to the side. Unsure of what she said, if this was a twisted reality, she cocked her head, almost begging her mother to have courage enough to repeat those verses.

         “E-excuse me?”, she stuttered, tugging Ben closer into her breast.

         “Ben”, there was a offhanded and distracted motion at the infant in her grasp, “He’s a slight chubby, have you been feeding him too much?”

         Susannah felt a certain type of protective anger shade her cheeks, the edges beginning to falter into a strange scarlet as she narrowed them like a predator under the evening sky lights. She was still unsure of what to say, struggling even to comprehend exactly what had just occurred. If this was not her own mother, in her childhood home, she may of reached across the tabletop and snatched them by the scruff of the collar. She allowed herself to compose for a minute. The anger faded and she stared down into her food, picking herself up with strings that drew off of her shoulders. Taking a bite, she offered it into to Ben’s open and wanting mouth.

         “I’d be careful if I were you.”

         “Suzy-”

         “He might eat you.”

----- VI -----

         The sweltering season posed such an imposing figure on the coast town of Setauket and the dry summer heat smothered the air in the Tallmadge residence. Every night with the collar of his shirt undone and his pants hiked up the knees in bare feet, Benjamin Sr caught his sons right before they headed to bed and gathered them on Will's bedding. Will, almost two, still unable to comprehend the words pressed into the pages, quickly dozed off to the soothing melody of his father’s voice. The candle simmered in its frame, flicking over the words and seemed to catch them alight. The glimmer of the print shimmered across Ben’s abysmal pupils and his head leaned on his father’s leg, making incoherent babbling and pressing a jitting finger to the text. He looked as if he was attempting to read aloud the words but was unable to communicate exactly what he had read.

         “Ah, look at you, Ben, your already sprouting into a little scholar, aren’t you?”, he pressed a kiss to a mass of cinnamon curls on his thigh and nestled his hand to cup his tiny shoulder. It grew steadily past ten and yawns suppressed him, however many times he tried to close the book, Ben would protest, slapping a hand to keep the page open, still chewing on the ends of his fingers. He forced the book down after eleven and settled the child into his crib, just lateral of Will's bed. He looked to be drinking in the knowledge everytime he touched the pages. Ben complied and rolled his exhausted body underneath his blanket.

----- VII -----

         Ben eat and drank in the precious words. His spirit grew more robust each passing day, and mother tried to read him like a book only to find out she could not understand the words; his father learned to live without clarity--somethings just aren’t meant to be understood. Susannah’s madness to understand her son played with her world; Benjamin realized that there are more important things that logic.

----- VIII -----

         Their child began crawling in the fall, Susannah was desperate for more eyes as Ben’s silence made it nearly impossible for her to find him in the home when he had wandered off. Every so often, he’d crawl underneath the table let out a little shriek of pain when his skull went slamming into the table or chairs. Those were the only times she heard his tiny voice, it went straight into her bones, molding in the center, swimming inside of her. Occasionally when Ben grew bored of the ground he’d tug on the ends of her dress, looking up to her with rather soul eating eyes but there was a sink of protection there. She dropped her dishes, hands still wet before bending down and swooping Ben into her arms, his knees digging into her hip, she sat him down on the counter before returning to scrub the plates.

         “You could call me Mama, Ben”, she peered over him and he looked dressed up in intention, lips moving as if to say these letters of affection she wished to hear dearly and the flesh was forming words between his teeth but he shut it after a while and just stared back, crossing his legs and placing the tips of his fingers back into his mouth, fluttering at her with eyes that bloomed like windows to one’s soul. The expression in his eyes seemed beautiful enough to paint the horizons. Through the silence, she learned to see past closed doors with shut eyes.

----- IX -----

         Four year William was bedridden that second February and his flushed face produced a tiny flinch of agony that nestled between his brows. Snow pelted the windows as Susannah pressed a hand to her son's forehead and swallowed hard. Sweat stuck his dark blonde bangs to his forehead and a bead of sweat trickled across the toddler’s temple, pressing half of his face into his pillow.

         Her husband didn’t laugh much these days and sunk a hand onto his forehead, rubbing his eyes lids in a circular motion as the wind danced around the house, whistling through the cracks in the ceiling, occasionally he'd pray. Benjamin would join his wife by their son's bedside, tugging her hands away and dragging the damp washcloth away from her grasp. “Susannah, you need your sleep, please.”, tears rippled around the corners of her eyes, reluctance clouded her mind. Knowing her stubborn aptitude, he settled on the end of the bed, gathering her in his arms where he felt subtle tears trickle onto the veins of his wrist.

         The doctor produced no results and gave simple remedies that they were already performing. The boy coughed from where he lay, eyes still shut and hardly opened as she tipped his head back to give him spoonfuls of tea or soup that he sometimes coughed straight back up. Benjamin no longer could drag her from him bedside and grasped the finger of a wobbling Ben who clung to his leg, unable to stand perfectly on his own two feet just quite yet. He lifted the child up and somehow his son was able to read the anxiety in his brows as he pressed a finger between them as if to settle the tension hardening between them. Benjamin faltered, cradled Ben to his chest and fastening the door to just a crack.

         “Will is going to be alright,” the father sighed, stomach falling, searching for recognition in those tiny little eyes. It flinched like a wave of gold. Ben thought so too and they padded down the stairs together.

____________________

         It would be weeks before William even slightly gained a recovery. Susannah continued to press the cold washcloth to his face as he twisted on his side and periodically crying out in pain. Gentle tears were brimming her eyes, crowding her cheeks when Ben crawled into her lap on the ending backboard of the bed. Her chest shook, tugging her son closer and wiping a knuckle underneath her eyelids.

         She was embarrassed, “I’m sorry, Ben”, she cleared her throat and gazed into her son’s face, threading her fingers through the back of his head into his twisting locks. Ben grabbed her finger with his hand and met her eyes, lips falling open.

         “Mama”

         The voice was small, high and laced with honey on every verse. She was petrified and she swelled with something new that had never been experienced before. Ben never tore his gaze off of her, tipping his chin up to meet her watch and he blinked innocently several times. In gazing to the soundness of his soul, she learned to listen to the way he looked at her. Ben was like music that everyone yearned to hear; there was no such more meaning than the one in his stare. She held him close and her head swam dizzy with all the possibilities.

         William was awake a few days, opening his eyes with his little brother curled up beside him with a thumb in his mouth.

----- X -----

         It was the 25th and Benjamin Tallmadge Jr was now a year old. Before William, Susannah never understood why you’d celebrate a birthday for someone who hardly understood it was theirs. Ben was different, he seemed to know it was the day, as if he’d celebrated it for centuries before in a hundred separate lives.

----- XI -----

         Susannah grew into the routine of rare words and they felt like a comet every time she heard them shatter the air with the weight of their magnitude. She pressed a palm to her stomach and by June was feeling the exhaustion of a third child forming in her abdomen. Her husband's delighted shriek at the news of a possible third son months ago still rang in her ears and she winced; the pain seemed enough for her to witness such an expression of joy. Truth be told, she wasn’t ready for a daughter, wasn’t ready to raise her like a delicate rose in society’s garden and instill her with duty from the moment she breathed in life. She still remembered mid March when nausea shuddered in her throat and Ben glanced up from the table with concern, uttering one single word that consisted to thrum in her ears:

         “Baby”

         His eyes fell to her stomach as if he could see right through her and her eyes widened. Her third child was expected in November and she wondered just how Ben knew at such a young age. She flopped onto the couch in the study, tilting her head back and lacing her fingers above her stomach. Ben was beside her, flipping through a book he couldn’t possibly be able to read--not to mention that it was upside down. A small smile creeped over her face when she witnessed this scene. Her husband groaned from his seat, twisted his arms above his head and stretching. She peeled herself off the couch, coming up behind him and sliding her hands across his chest. He peered back up at her, turning in his chair whilst grabbing her hand and leaping her close.

         Her husband tugged off his wire frame glasses, placing them on the table and settling his dripping quill into the swirling, sinking ink jar. He pressed his large hands onto her stomach and a tiny giggle pressed out her usually firm lips. Susannah peered onto the parchment, June 6th, 1755 reading back to her as she tilted her head to the side, cocking it quizzically. She was grateful that it was not yet the throttling, suffocating heat of July and she still classified the late breeze across the hills and bay as late, late spring when the sun hadn’t yet burnt the crisp leaves or dried the soil into fine cracks as if preparing for hell to swallow the ground and those where they stand.

         There was a cramped groan and she passed a glance over her shoulder as Ben turned round and slid cautiously off the couch until his toes pressed against the floorboards and he tottered over to the window, grasping the window frame and catching the sun as it began its ascent into the sky, still glittering through the tree branches in the late morning. The glimmer fell upon her son’s countenance and he didn’t seem to squint from the luminescence. Susannah almost opened her mouth to speak but closed it, watching him lean closer until his forehead pressed against the glass and his breath steam the surfaced. She was used to his glances of determination but it struck a chord in her, rubbing the gold cross the dangled from a chain around her neck with two fingers.

         “Ben?”, she swallowed with great difficulty.

         He did not reply, and she swore the sunlight had transformed him, grasping at his hair with hungry strokes and sinking into the color. He seemed to observe the horizon as if the sky carried his mind while his feet were on the ground, they both met at this distance in a place where nature stroked the heavens, where in that place dreams became a lost reality. Fire was burning the ice in his eyes as he treaded through scorching flames just to sense the warmth. The hues of scarlet and orange filled the room where he stood like a shadow and transformed the brush of his tender fingertips.

         But Ben did reply, reluctantly inching his gaze away from the startling light and meeting her questioning glances, his simper was as delicate as a crescent moon, and it was remarkable to witness the moon during the day as if he intended to be beautifully out of place among this existence. The shine of this filled up her soul and she touched a hand to her heart, even though she knew he was not grinning at her. And he turned back to watch these moving tinctures and stretched on reaching toes to see who was on the other side watching it too.

         His world was colliding with someone who’d transformed the colors of his leaves with shades of their sky.

         The world shifted on a tilted stage and all uncertainty ceased. His finger raised, pressing against the window panels, “Sun”, he said.

         The story of his life appeared in frames and memories the boy had yet to recollect; a poem he had not yet written and a story he always wanted to tell.

[archer-kacey]

The Illusion of Living (Multi-Part Analysis)

Naturally, first order of business on this blog will be Joeysplaining.

This lovely little directory doesn't link to much at the current moment, but will serve to keep all Illusion of Living posts under one easy umbrella.

NATHAN ARCH SR. FOREWARD

INTRODUCTION/THE ILLUSION OF LIVING

[lucky-dreamfisher]

Assuming Wilson isn't a fake name, then maybe Wilson had a son and named him after his father? hence "Nathan Arch Sr." this has two giant holes in it, those being "if Arch III exists, why wasn't he mentioned anywhere" and "In the rare chance that Arch III does exist, why would Wilson name him after Nathan if he was a bad father" so I'm not going to put any stock in it. But I am going to throw it into the wild as a possibility.

I hope there's no Nathan the Third, because that would mean that there was some woman who looked at this

and thought to herself "hot damn, that's the man I'm gonna marry!"