#henry is very much an extension of me in this situation but hey. its been 4 years. he's surviving on thoughts and prayers

[robobee]

Do you have any thoughts on what Henry would think if he heard about Ronan's ecoterrorism spree/Declan's everything while on the sarchengsey road trip

i have MANY thoughts on this since i think about it a lot, but every time i start i get really angry because it genuinely is absurd to not have updates from the Human Battery, Very Involved Magic Black Market Participant, and Resurrected Dream Forest during the course of TD3. so i'll divide my thoughts into what i want and what is likely. i realise in hindsight that i answered thoughts AFTER he returns but, same diff (i do think he/everyone else HAS to be super unconnected and iphone-less during the road trip, just to keep up my sanity).

i want Henry to be absolutely furious at best, disgusted at worst. i think declan's thing is more reasonable for him to be upset at, both because of their family's connection at the markets and also because hey dude what the hell how did you not receive a single consequence from shooting up an entire ecosystem of allegorical gang violence?! white privilege at its finest. but i also want him to rip ronan a new one because like. you've seen this guy's father and brother go to insane lengths to keep him safe and he's just being so unbelievably stupid and also undoubtedly harming so many innocent workers/individuals in such a strange campaign its like duuuuude. why not patent an oil-eating amoeba to combat pollution instead of continuing to do the hardest and most useless route. again, in my head I think Henry being resentful/hateful toward Dreamers + admitting aloud that it's a shame i wasn't here to aid the moderators adds something VERY VERY interesting to the dynamics at play because of how one-degree-of-separation he is to several dreamers, esp considering bc he'd still be civil despite it. but yeah declan gets scolded like a child and ronan gets the worst stinkeye on the planet and declan has to just pay off niall's debt in pure cash now, which, good luck!

what is more likely to happen with Henry's thoughts IF margie ever writes it: Absolutely Nothing. at best he's going to have a 3 second passing thought about how "edgy" and "cool" ronan was for "sticking it to the man" (henry is The Man, fiscally speaking, margie has forgotten that ronan is also a millionaire somehow) . with declan henry probably says "i heard! that's so fire and caucasian of you, mister lynch. skibidi!" and then they never talk about it again

[hopevalley]

The Real Problem with the Love Triangle

Here we are, in Season 8, and I feel like I’ve finally settled on what it is I hate about the love triangle.

I mean, there are a lot of things wrong with it. It divides the fans, it splits the attention of the scenes between two “potential” romances instead of one certain one, and, perhaps one of its biggest offenses: it’s in the spotlight due to the fact that the plotline was given to the main character.

I could talk about all of these, and I could do it all day, but let’s just look at them quickly (because I do feel there’s a bigger issue than any of these at play, here).

It divides the fans. Yikes? They clearly expected some kind of...I don’t know, Twilight-era Team Jacob/Team Edward split, but Twilight’s endgame was always painfully clear. It’s not that fans weren’t disappointed by the reality when it hit, but...I don’t think many people were...genuinely surprised by it, either. Splitting the fans of an already itty-bitty teeny-tiny fandom was maybe not the best idea, but I guess I can see why they took the risk. After so many characters left the show in S5 (Frank, Dottie, Phillip, Shane, Jack) they probably felt they had to do something drastic to keep the fans invested in the show.

It splits the screentime between two potential romances instead of one certain one. This is less yikes in some ways and moreso in others. The biggest issue with this is mostly that When Calls the Heart has limited screentime to begin with, so splitting screentime and therefore also believable development of any romance makes everything take twice as long to happen, which can either bog down the show (if they take the time to do things correctly) or everything will feel rushed (if they skip proper character development).

It’s in the spotlight. Obviously they had to do this to get attention from the fans, but I can’t help but think that a genuine love triangle for a side character/background character might have been a more appealing option story-wise. Having the focus of the triangle be on Elizabeth means that most of the fans are very invested in their choice...which is GREAT up until the point where it’s suddenly not anymore. Writing yourself into a position where approximately half of the fanbase will be disappointed, perhaps even to the loss of their viewership when things don’t go their way (this is always a risk) is...maybe not the best idea. I can’t imagine anyone would quit over a minor love triangle storyline (for example, Bill/Molly/AJ or Fiona/Kevin/Hickam). Sure, you won’t have the level of engagement in the fans that Lucas/Elizabeth/Nathan brings to the table, but I think it could be fun while also not really risking anything. Not many people would stop watching if Fiona picked Hickam over Kevin, you know?

There are other problems with the love triangle and the concept/use of it, but I think the writers at least tried to make it feel balanced. Did they succeed? Well, that’s personal opinion, so I won’t get into that, but you can tell the effort was there from the start.

So we have a love triangle. Lucas and Nathan are both vying for Elizabeth’s affection, and the crux of Season 8 is: she needs to choose one of them.

Which brings me to my thesis statement.

The problem with the love triangle is that the choice is limited to two options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

I think logically as a fan and as a writer who occasionally does enjoy trashy tropes, it’s really no surprise that one of these choices is going to be endgame. What’s annoying—what hurts the love triangle the most—is that they are also the only options presented to the audience. They are the only options Elizabeth and those around her are openly considering.

In reality, there are at least three options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

She chooses nobody/to remain single.

We all know When Calls the Heart is a romantic “period drama” so naturally the writers leaned into writing the romance. And again, we know that one of these men is endgame.

But when you’re writing something like this, a plotline that is most assuredly risking future viewership to some degree, you can’t really forget that Staying Single is equally as good an option as Lucas or Nathan.

It’s made worse with things like time skips. Elizabeth has had plenty of time to make a choice if she wanted to make one. She’s obviously not that attached to either man if she’s just going to leave them hanging like that. I think it could be argued that she’s avoided letting herself get too emotionally intimate with either of them on purpose—because she’s scared to try again after what happened to Jack, she’s afraid of having to feel like that again—but that lends credence to my thesis: if she’s not that emotionally attached, and she’s not ready to actually move forward romantically, then...Staying Single is looking like a great option.

But...not one character in the show has told her that. No one encourages it. Not Rosemary (which I sort of expect), not Bill or Henry or Florence (who all seem likely candidates), not anyone. It’s not like Elizabeth’s still heavily mourning Jack (if so, I could see her friends eagerly encouraging her past that). She seems perfectly content by herself and is seemingly doing a good job of raising her son. She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t act like she wants one.

So why does she have to choose between TWO of them?

What could fix it? Not much at this point. Elizabeth said ages ago that she was ready to move on, or at least try, and that was followed up by all of her friends (Rosemary and Clara specifically) being extremely pushy about how she needed to find romance again. Not once were all of her fears/anxieties seriously discussed and validated.

The best they can do now is have someone close to Elizabeth point out that if she’s not ready to move on, or simply doesn’t want to get involved in a romance again, she doesn’t have to pick anyone (but should be honest with both Lucas and Nathan that she’s not looking for that kind of commitment in her life). It’s also possible that Elizabeth herself could come to this conclusion and speak it aloud to a friend like Rosemary. Just because both men are interested doesn’t mean she has to pick either of them.

I know the fans have been really frustrated at the triangle, specifically how drawn-out it’s been, but I think the reason for that is that Elizabeth’s character has been written in this...really confusing sort of way where...she’s understandably not ready to move on right after her husband has passed away, but even though she’s still in mourning the “potential suitors” get shoved down her throat (and ours) for two full seasons. We (and she, by extension) never get the idea that she could just choose to stay single. The next “logical” step is to choose a man. And that would be fine if she were like Mary Dunbar from the first season, but...she’s the main character. We should see her considering all of her choices.

And like, not to be a fun-killer, but...everything from the past few seasons makes me think she’d just be happier single. That’s the issue, too, with not giving Elizabeth “staying single” as a valid choice: we’re all kind of at a point where we all see how poor her relationship to both suitors is and we’re like, “Hey...maybe neither of them are good options for her at this point in her life.”

Certainly the ensemble-style show lately has contributed to less screentime for Elizabeth and therefore also Lucas/Elizabeth and Nathan/Elizabeth stuff, but I think this could all be fixed if...her choice wasn’t between the two of them, but between choosing to date again vs. choosing not to. She has a career. She has a child. She has a lot of friends. She doesn’t NEED a man, so I want “choosing a man” to feel like...she actually WANTS to date. She WANTS to be romanced. She WANTS physical affection/sex/to be loved and cared for in a romantic fashion.

If I felt that Elizabeth was wholly into the idea of romance and dating and finding someone to live out the rest of her life with, then I might feel good about the love triangle, and about her trying to decide which of two decent men she’d like to allow to court her first.

But because she doesn’t seem eager to court or date, we feel like she never made the decision to move on, and as a result of all of this and the writers trying to keep the love triangle balanced (which unintentionally makes her seem equally DISINTERESTED IN BOTH MEN), her relationships with both Lucas and Nathan feel flat and uninspiring. 

TL;DR? The love triangle should have been presented from the start as Nathan vs. Lucas vs. Staying Single, and then we wouldn’t be in a situation where she’s known these men for two+ years and has been ready to move on for more than one of those years, and still doesn’t feel like she knows either man well enough to choose which of them she might like to court.

If we would have started with three choices, she could have spent all of Season 6 working on eliminating one of the options (staying single, in this case) while also being open to CLOSE friendship with both Lucas and Nathan*. Then, in Season 7, she could find that while it’s flattering to have the attention of two good men, it’s emotionally draining and anxiety-inducing to feel she has to choose between them as she likes them both a great deal and doesn’t want to hurt either of them.

*I think they were sort of trying for this, but it fell flat. It would have been ideal to have Lucas and Nathan confide in Elizabeth about deeply personal/emotional things that never leave those scenes. Fears, concerns, they could have some inside jokes... In order for a love triangle that lasts a long time to work, she has to feel very close to both men...and right now she doesn’t feel close to either of them.

As an aside, the love triangle would definitely feel softer around the edges if it wasn’t pushed from Day 1 as a Thing They Were Doing. Elizabeth forming close friendships with two men without TPTB ever saying anything about romance (let alone a love triangle) would have given the characters time to feel like they’re friends first. What we got was romance shoved down our throat (à la “Elizabeth’s still in mourning because her husband seriously just died BUT ALSO LOOK AT THESE TWO NEW MEN... WHICH WILL SHE CHOOSE WHEN SHE’S READY TO MOVE ON?!”) which put too much pressure on the triangle and the characters/interactions from the get-go. It felt like they jumped from brand-new acquaintances to love interests in the span of five minutes...which is, you know...bad.

[of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog]

Visitors

Commission for my dearest @depressedstressedlemonzest !! A crossover (kinda) of The Witcher and Good Omens. Aziraphale is basically me in this. I hope you like it, love! Commission info is here!

~

Geralt is having trouble tracking the serpent, because the ground is dry and rocky and doesn’t show tracks well, and the wind is blowing in the wrong direction. He can still smell the sulfur, though, faint on the ground, and occasionally the lazy wind of a giant serpent through pockets of sandy dirt. The scrub is too sparse to hide much, but there are plenty of rocks.

Oh, and Jaskier won’t shut up.

He’s far enough back that he won’t get in Geralt’s way, but the same wind that blows the scent away from Geralt blows Jaskier’s muttering up to him. Something about blisters and getting a twisted ankle at this rate. Geralt presses his lips together and ignore Jaskier.

Then the wind turns, and he smells it. The sulfur is strong, now, and he can see a large rock up ahead with a heap of something dark on it, half-hidden by scrub. He halts, and waves Jaskier up to him. Jaskier immediately shuts up and creeps the rest of the way to just behind Geralt’s shoulder. “Is that it?” the bard whispers, apparently fascinated.

“Yes,” Geralt grunts. “Stay here.”

“But—!”

“No buts. You’ll be in the way.”

“Hmph,” Jaskier huffs, but sidles around behind Geralt to crouch behind a rock and glare at him sullenly. Geralt nods, and sneaks as softly as he can towards the relatively flat area where the serpent waits.

He can hear it now, hissing gently, its heart slow and somber. It appears to be asleep. Excellent. If he can behead it before it wakes up, everything will be much simpler.

Pebbles crunch under his boot, and he freezes.

The serpent stirs lazily, and raises its large, wedge-shaped head. Its eyes are gold like his, but it seems not to see him, looking instead towards the horizon. Strange. Still, a blessing is a blessing. Geralt creeps closer…

The serpent uncoils from the rock more swiftly than Geralt’s ever seen a big snake move, and raises itself up to hiss at him fiercely. Geralt readies his sword, eyeing the serpent carefully, noting that it doesn’t seem to have fangs. Odd. Devilish serpents always have fangs. But his pendant is humming, and he’ll get lots of coin for this monster’s head.

He darts forward, the serpent attempts to avoid, but as soon as it dodges, Geralt changes direction and manages to open a wound in its scaly hide.

Heat and the scent of myrrh flare up behind Geralt, and he growls and rolls to the side as something slams down right where he’d been standing. He’s on his feet in seconds, just in time to block a sword that appears to be on fire.

The sword’s wielder disengages before Geralt can disarm them, and yells, “How dare you! How dare you attack an innocent being!”

Geralt glances at the serpent, startled; it’s coiled up again, watching the scene. “What the fuck?” he says, bewildered, looking back at the… man? No man he’s ever heard of has wide white wings like that, nor dresses quite so… oddly. But the other holds his sword competently, and the rage on his face is dangerous.

“Can we not have a moment’s rest without you primitive humans running around with swords and bows, trying to kill us?!” the man snarls. “Good lord, it’s like you don’t even know what we are!”

“They probably don’t, angel,” the serpent says, and Geralt’s eyes widen as he hears Jaskier gasp. It raises itself up again and continues, “This is a tv show we’re in, and they’ve never mentioned angels or demons.”

“Oh, hush,” the man replies crankily, but his wings are relaxing, and he’s actually turning away from Geralt. “They shouldn’t just attack willy-nilly!”

“What the fuck else are we supposed to do?” Geralt snaps, drawing their attentions. “Murderous serpents aren’t—”

“He’s not murderous!” the man interrupts, and actually stomps his foot. “How many times do we have to say it?!”

“Then what is it?” Geralt demanded in exasperation. “And for that matter, what are you?”

The man seems honestly taken aback. And then his face twists and he shouts, “I’m an angel, you stubborn twit!”

“Ah, fuck,” Geralt mutters. He says louder, “I don’t know what an angel is, but if you and that serpent are innocent, then what the fuck is killing the locals?”

The angel splutters, and Geralt almost jumps when the serpent sighs, bunches its coils, and raises up to reform into a man, in leggings of a strange material and a black jacket of an absolutely horrendous cut. Too much time with Jaskier has shown Geralt that there are just some shapes that have no business being draped on a humanoid body. At least he looks vaguely normal and doesn’t have a bow around his neck like the angel. That bow makes him look like a kitten. The sword makes him look like a warrior.

The man in black turns to Geralt and says, “I dunno what you lot call it, but it looks like wyvern to me. Two legs, two wings, dragon-y looking bastards?”

Geralt frowns. He hasn’t seen wyvern activity around here… but he’s been following the shapeshifter. Maybe the two avoid each other when possible.

“Geraaalt,” Jaskier calls impatiently.

Geralt sighs heavily and sheaths his sword. “Fine,” he calls back, and shakes his head as Jaskier pops up from behind the rock and trots over, staring at the angel’s wings, intrigued.

“Melitele’s tits, those are big,” Jaskier says, marveling at them. “Are you sure you’re not part harpy? No, of course not, harpies have different wings. If it’s a wyvern, can I come to see that fight too?”

“Absolutely not,” Geralt snaps, exasperated with this whole situation. “Look, just—”

“Oh!” Suddenly the angel’s face lights up, and the sword in his hand just—vanishes. “You’re Jaskier!”

Jaskier immediately draws himself up and beams at the angel. “Yes, I am,” he replies. “How did you know?”

“We saw you,” the angel says.

“Angel!” the shapeshifter barks. “Focus.”

The angel turns and shoots him a scowl, then huffs and says to Geralt, “We’re not murderers. The wyvern is that way.” He waves vaguely in the direction they had come from. “Are you the Witcher, Geralt?”

“Yes,” Geralt replies, utterly confused at this point. Damn it, how the hell is he supposed to convince these idiots to leave if the angel keeps yelling and the shapeshifter keeps letting him?

“That explains it,” the shapeshifter says, as the angel’s expression turns sour. “Look, Geralt, Jaskier, nice to meet you and all that, but we just want to go home. We’re kinda stuck here for the moment, though.”

Geralt sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Fine. Just… stop turning into a snake where townsfolk can see you.” When Jaskier glares, he grudgingly adds, “Please.”

The angel sniffs and the shapeshifter scowls. “It’s kinda hard to do that when they keep coming up here unannounced for no reason,” the shapeshifter retorts.

Jaskier and Geralt point wordlessly to the sign in the dirt that quite clearly says “This Way To The Spring”.

The two monsters stare blankly, first at them, then the sign, then each other.

“You said it didn’t mean anything!” the angel says, exasperated.

“It’s not like fantasy languages are my forte!” the shapeshifter replies, cheeks red. “Is this or is this not the place where Anathema is gonna bring us back?”

“It certainly looks like it,” the angel replies, looking around. “What does that sign say, anyway?”

Geralt is still confused about ‘fantasy languages’ (it’s clearly in Cintran Common, what the fuck?) but Jaskier helpfully translates and asks curiously, “Why are you here, anyway?”

Both monsters look rather ashamed. “We, ah… just wanted to visit,” the angel says weakly.

Geralt narrows his eyes. “From where?” he demands.

“A place across the sea,” the shapeshifter replies airily. “You won’t have heard of it.”

“Ah, on the contrary!” Jaskier says eagerly, looking thrilled, “I studied geography extensively and spoke to several world-renowned sailors. Are you from the coast? Why don’t you have accents? Did you fly here or sail?”

The monsters look even more uncomfortable with every moment that Jaskier speaks. Geralt watches them warily. They might lash out at any moment. He medallion is humming frantically, telling him to dispatch these creatures, but… they’re sentient, and according to the angel, they’ve done no harm.

Where did they come from?

With a heavy sigh, the shapeshifter says, “A witch sent us—I mean, a sorceress. We, eh, we’re big fans, but we didn’t expect this place to be so… eh, distrusting.”

“Fans of what?” Jaskier asks.

“Um...”

A portal suddenly opens to one side, and Geralt immediately draws his sword, stepping over to put himself between the portal and Jaskier. A sorceress pokes her head through, and sighs. “You two just had to go and run into the very people I told you to avoid, didn’t you,” she says in an annoyed tone. “Aziraphale, please, for the love of god, put those wings away. Hey, Henry-with-white-hair and Joey, looking sexy as usual.”

Geralt tenses unhappily, and Jaskier muffles an outraged gasp.

“You said not to call them that!” the angel protests, as his wings fold in and vanish, and the shapeshifter takes his arm and drags him to the portal. “Oh, wait, but I wanted to ask about the television lore so I could compare it with the books—!”

“Later, angel,” the shapeshifter sighs, then, before they step through the portal, he tosses over his shoulder to Geralt and Jaskier, “By the way, I’m Crowley. Tell Ciri I’d die for her.”

And then they’re gone and the portal closes.

There is a very long silence. Then Jaskier asks, bewildered, “Who the fuck is Ciri?”

“Fuck if I know,” Geralt replies with a shrug. “Come on, let’s go find the wyvern.”

[lnicol1990]

BatIM - Devil’s Deal - Part 1

It is here... finally. This story has taken the longest time to complete for a few reasons, including slight burnout from all the writing I did last year, a bit of writer’s block, but mainly from moving home and all the stresses that accompanies that.

But without further ado, my latest story for @squigglydigglydoo‘s Toon Henry AU. It is a direct continuation from God’s Toll.

You can also read it on DeviantArt.

Henry stared up at the ceiling and tried to breathe. The three long gashes across his side and chest made even the shallowest of breaths painful, but he had no choice.  The fact the he was shaking wasn’t helping matters much either, every twitch sending bolts of agony through his body.

The door shuddered beside him as it was rammed into again, still whole despite the beating it was taking. However, an ominous crunch of something giving way indicated that it wouldn’t remain intact for much longer. The barricade they’d erected wouldn’t hold.

Alice flinched at the sound, pulling her hands away from Henry’s injuries, which she had been trying to heal. Her halo dimmed as fear distracted her yet again, breaking the fragile concentration she’d had.

“Hey, Alice, sweetheart… Look at me.” Henry reached out and took her trembling hands into his own. His heart ached at the sight of her almost in tears. “He’s not in here yet, you hear? Trust me, we’ll know when he’s breaking through. But right now, though; it’s just noise. Okay? You can ignore that, can’t you?”

Alice looked at him with uncertainty for a long moment before closing her eyes and taking a deep, cleansing breath. She exhaled quickly, practically expelling her tremors as she did so, and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze before releasing them. She nodded –to him, to herself– and resumed her self-appointed task. Eyes still shut, she became motionless; her whole body exuded a gentle glow as she entered a strange, meditative state.

He hadn’t seen her heal like this before, although Boris had happily shown him the scars on his muzzle, a parting gift from Alice’s copy apparently. It didn’t sit well with him that that thing could cause real damage; it meant that his own situation had been far more perilous than he’d originally thought.

There was another bang from the door, reminding him of his current, perilous situation.

“He’s not giving up,” Joey whimpered from the corner of the room he’d hidden himself away in.

“Oh gee Joey, I wonder why,” the animator snapped irritably. He glared at the man across the room. “It’s not like you turned him into a toon, rewrote his memories and then threatened to scrap him and everything he’s come to care about. I mean, really, what’s he got to be angry about?”

“Henry.”

The man turned to look at the angel, who had spoken so softly. She was staring back at him reproachfully; she hadn’t done that since their second incident with acetone, when he’d almost fallen back on old, destructive habits

Indulging wouldn’t have been helpful then, just like it wasn’t helping now –he was fully aware of that. The only difference was that, this time, he didn’t feel guilty. Someone needed to chew Joey out over the man’s idiocy, and it might as well be him. But still…

It could wait until later.

“Alright,” he huffed, conceding. It took him a moment to realise that he was breathing easier, and he smiled to Alice, nodding in thanks, before looking around the room. “If anyone’s got any ideas they’d like to share, I’m open to suggestions.”

“Oh, come now, the answer’s obvious, Henry,” the director scoffed. The man looked at the other occupants of the room, baffled at their bewilderment. “Don’t you see? We’ve got to take that thing out before it kills us!”

“Take him out?” Boris echoed quietly, his face dropping in horror as he realised what Joey was talking about.

“You mean you–” Alice’s words died in her throat in realisation. Ink began to run down the side of her face as she glared at the director, her expression far more severe than it ever would be in the cartoons. “You want to kill Bendy?”

The laughter that erupted from the studio director silenced the toons and Henry. It was high pitched and hysterical in a way that none of them had heard from the man before. His expression was exaggeratedly bewildered, as if he couldn’t understand the toon’s objections.

“You think there’s anything left of my little devil in that monster?” Joey asked, still chuckling in astonishment. He turned to the animator, who had been keeping quiet throughout the exchange. “Henry. Henry, you must see that there’s nothing else we can do. There’s no other choice; we must kill it!”

“I’m not sure what kind of man you’ve become, Joey, where your first solution is to destroy the problem.” The man frowned at his old friend, feeling equal parts worried and disturbed. He shook his head. “The body’s skewed and deformed, but it’s still Bendy’s; there gotta be something of him left in there.”

“That thing only looks like Bendy because I gave it his body as a vessel,” the director countered.

Henry frowned, unimpressed with the other man’s insistence. He was beginning to wonder who the man was trying to convince.

He didn’t have a chance as a dark chuckling suddenly echoed around the room. Four pairs of eyes moved as one to the door in apprehension, only to find their only barrier still intact.

But that laugh… that was undoubtedly…

“Got it all figured out, do ya?” a frighteningly familiar voice asked.

Henry rose to his feet in an instant and quickly moved to the centre of the room, Alice in tow. Not a moment later, both Boris and Joey had leapt up from their hiding spots and joined the animator and angel. The four of them quickly took positions with their backs together so they had a perfect view of the room, for once, totally in sync with one another. No one spoke as they all looked around, searching for the source of the voice.

“You kids are cute.”

A gasp from Boris made Henry turn to the wolf’s direction. The larger toon was backing away from a corner of the room that was drenched in ink with a large, wooden frame that stood relatively untouched by the mess around it.

For a moment, Henry thought it was a crawlspace to the next room, before he realised that he was staring at a mirror. And Bendy was… inside it? He was leaning against the frame, staring at them with beady, off model eyes.

“Don’tcha know not to judge folks by appearances?” the little toon asked, his tone almost scornful.

“B– Bendy? Is that you, pal?” Boris stammered, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Sure is, buddy.” The demon smiled at the wolf.

“No you’re not!” Alice snapped. She glared at the little devil before turning to look sadly at her fellow toon. “It’s just a gag, Boris, one that won’t go away.”

“Then he’s not a gag,” Henry interrupted.

He gently pushed the toons to a side so he could get a better look at what they were dealing with. As he kneeled down, his side ached.

“Oooh, that looks like it hurt.��� The creature said as he hissed.

“If you’re not a gag, then what are you?” the animator asked, ignoring the taunt.

“Oh, you’re quick, old man. A lot quicker than them,” the creature chuckled. He stopped after a few seconds and stared at the man in an almost approving manner. “I’m Bendy’s reflection.”

“Wha’dya mean yer his reflection?” Boris asked, cocking his head in confusion.

“I mean, when he looks into a mirror, I’m what stares back” the reflection answered, shrugging nonchalantly. “Surely, ya knew what a reflection is?”

Henry saw the larger toon advance towards the mirror, his expression rightfully angry, and held a hand up to the wolf and -by extension- Alice, quietening any retort the pair might have had. He tapped his wrist for a second, where a watch would be if he had one, and the toons nodded in understanding.

Time wasn’t on their side, a fact a much larger bang at the door reminded them of.

Knowing that the toons weren’t going to react angrily to this mirror creature’s needling, he turned to Joey. The studio director had a calculating look on his face as he studied the reflection. Their eyes met for a moment and Joey nodded slowly to Henry –a silent confirmation of the animator’s suspicions– before focusing back to the mirror.

Henry turned back to the mirror and the reflection within it as well. It was staring back at him, patiently waiting for the next question everyone knew was going to be asked.

“How are you in this mirror, specifically, when Bendy’s outside the room?” the animator asked. “How are you here when Bendy isn’t?”

“Of course he’s in the room. I couldn’t be here if he wasn’t.” The reflection waited as everyone fearfully spun round to the door, checking that it was still intact. When the attention was back on him, he chuckled. “What? I never said all of him had to be in here.”

Henry paused, not answering the reflection immediately. The creature was being difficult, answering only what it was asked with very little elaboration and offering practically nothing of its own volition. It could easily test his patience, and the animator was trying not to rise to the bait.

A loud crack drew the man’s attention away from the mirror again and back to the door. His heart seized in horror as he saw a clawed hand had finally burst through the door. It was swiping uselessly around it, not finding anything to grab hold of, but that did little to calm Henry.

They were rapidly running out of time.

And he needed answers.

He turned back to the mirror and pushed the reflection’s cryptic response from earlier to the back of his mind. He could think it over later when he wasn’t two minutes away from death. Right now, he needed a plan, a way out of the situation. And as terrifying as the prospect was, the reflection probably had what he needed.

“If you’re Bendy’s reflection, then you should know him better than anyone, right?”

Henry watched the reflection nod, confirming his suspicion. He was one the right track; a direct question would get a direct answer. He just had to be specific.

“What happened to Bendy in Joey’s office?”

“Going straight for the big one, huh? Yeah… probably for the best.” The reflection looked over Henry’s shoulder to the door. After a moment, it turned back to him. “I guess you could say things got too real for him.”

“What do you mean by that?” the animator pressed, trying not to tense as he heard more of the door give way.

“Henry! The ink’s commin’ in!” Boris yelped fearfully.

Henry turned back to their failing barricade and watched in horror as he saw the tendrils of ink pour in from the hole in the door, soaking the floor and ceiling. In the corridor beyond he could see the monstrous form of Bendy, smile too wide and utterly manic and both eyes covered by dripping ink.

“Come on, old man! You’ve seen him before when things got too real. Remember Sammy?” The reflection sounded stern behind him, as if cross that he hadn’t figured out its puzzle.

Sammy… What had happened with Sammy?

It was such an abrupt change of topic that he was struggling to think, the memories not quite clicking into place. If this was the answer to what was happening, then why couldn’t he think?!

Bendy laughed from outside, clearly enjoying the terror from the people he was hunting.

Laughing…

Henry had heard that kind of laugh before from Bendy. It was as if it had been the only thing keeping the little devil together when…

When he’d killed Sammy.

When things got too real.

Bendy had been almost hysterical and his laughter hadn’t hidden how confused and terrified the toon demon had been, how he’d panicked when confronted with real world consequences to his toony actions.

Henry frowned in confusion as everything aligned in his head, not quite willing to believe where his thoughts were leading him. He looked back to the reflection in bewilderment.

“So this is a… a panic attack?”

“Not how I’d describe it, but sure, let’s go with that.” The reflection shrugged nonchalantly.

“And how would you describe it?” Alice challenged, glaring at the creature in the mirror from over her shoulder.

“Discord. Disassociation. Destabilisation. Take yer pick.” The reflection paused as the hole in the door was torn open a little more. “Although, right now, I’m not sure that should be yer top concern. That door ain’t gonna hold him anymore and he knows he’s got ya trapped in here.”

Anything else the reflection might have said was drowned out as Henry latched on to two words: hold and trap. They reminded him, without a shadow of doubt, that they were going to have to find another way hold off Bendy’s rampage –to trap him somehow– if they were going to survive the next five minutes.

But how?

His eye caught Joey moving in his peripheral and he turned to the studio director, an idea forming.

“Joey, give me the book!”

“Wha– What good is that going to do, now?” Joey spluttered, clearly bewildered that the animator was going back to that point.

“You had some way to keep the demon still when you summoned it, didn’t you?” Henry retorted.

He watched his old friend’s face fall in realisation, and the director immediately reached under his vest, into his own Hammerspace. As the other man pulled out the book and began flicking through the pages, looking for the right one, Henry reached into his own pocket dimension and pulled out his toon pen.

“Here! This is it!” Joey shouted excitedly as he showed the open spread to Henry.

The animator said nothing as he ripped the book out of Joey’s hands to study the pages. His eyes raked over the design, committing it to memory, before he passed the book over to Alice and began sketching the circle onto the ground in front of them.

“Alice, I need you to read the incantation while I work,” he instructed, not sparing the angel a glance. As he began filling in the details, he could hear her quiet recitation. “And hold on the last part until I say so.”

A loud crack and a cruel laugh grabbed Henry’s attention for a moment and he looked up. The door had all but caved in and Bendy was climbing in over the wreckage, his malicious, inky aura filling the room ahead of him.

With a final stroke, Henry tossed his pen aside as he backed up and held his arms out to shield the others as the demon advanced. He forced himself to stay calm and control his breathing as Bendy drew closer and closer, swapping between looking to the floor and the monstrous toon’s face. It was the same expression as when Bendy had been tormenting Joey.

One more step…

Just one more step…

Henry felt his heart clench when he realised that he could still see the circle he’d drawn on the floor. Bendy’s inky tendrils had gone around it, as if the aura had instinctively known to avoid the thing. He looked up in panic, fearfully wondering if the demon had noticed as well. He saw the creature’s smile widen even further, maliciously enjoying the terror on his victims’ faces.

The ink demon took one more step and entered the circle, completely oblivious to his own aura’s warning.

Before he’d even realised it, Henry was smiling smugly and calmly approached the demon as he took another step. He even folded his arms across as he noticed the demon pause, obviously confused by his sudden change in demeanour. Standing two steps away from the terrifying creature and just outside the circle, he felt completely at ease as he drew a new pen from behind himself.

He watched the demon focus on the new object presented to him, clearly trying to judge if it was of any interest. He then wiggled the pen, keeping Bendy’s focus on it, and then used it to point at the devil’s feet. The animator felt a strange sense of déjà vu as he watched the creature before him silently follow instructions and stare at the drawing below him, but he ignored the feeling and focused on what he needed to do.

“Alice, now,” he spoke quietly over his shoulder, eyes never leaving the deformed toon in front of him.

“In this circle, I summon you. In this circle, I bind you.”

He heard her mutter quietly behind him and he couldn’t blame her, especially when Bendy’s reaction was so instantaneous. The ink demon’s head reared up, his malicious smile replaced by a hate-filled snarl, and he roared at them.

Henry couldn’t help but flinch back as the creature launched at him –claws up and ready to tear him to shreds– only for Bendy to be stopped at the circle’s edge, colliding with an invisible barrier as if it were glass and in a way that would have been humorous in any other circumstance. He watched as the demon shook himself out of a momentary stupor and began clawing at the air and writhing within the circle’s confines, looking for a way out.

Ink was beginning to pour off Bendy as if his whole body was melting.

Too real…

The reflection’s words were ringing in his ears. He hadn’t really had time to figure out what those words had meant before, but now they were starting to make an awful lot of sense.

Discord.

Disassociation.

Destabilisation.

He understood now. There were parts of the real world that Bendy just couldn’t handle, consequences that the toon simply couldn’t accept, couldn’t come to terms with. And this monster was the result of the little guy being pushed past his limits. This was a panic attack, as he’d called it earlier. This was stress and this was Bendy not knowing how to deal with it, not knowing how to calm down.

He just needed a nudge in the right direction.

“Now now, Bendy,” he chided gently, holding his ground when the demon turned to glare and snarl at him. “That’s not how this gag goes.”

Bendy froze at the reprimand, and Henry watched the snarl fall to something more worried as the devil began to look around himself. He could feel the confusion emanating off of the distorted toon, how lost the animator’s statement had made him feel.

“Come on now, punk. This is the part where you call me a sneaky old man,” he explained, filling in the details that Bendy clearly couldn’t find for himself. He smiled indulgently at the demon. “It’s what you said last time I pulled this one, remember?”

The toon didn’t respond, choosing to stare at the animator in what Henry could only assume to be bewilderment. But, ink wasn’t pouring off the demon like it had been mere moments ago, so he considered that a success –or, at least the beginning of helping his old creation return to normal.

Movement beyond Bendy caught his attention and he looked passed the demon’s shoulder. He felt his blood –ink– boil when he realised it was Joey; the director looking like he was trying to sneak out while everyone was distracted. The older man froze when his exit was noticed.

“Where are you going?” Henry challenged, chasing his old friend when he bolted through the broken door. “Joey, you bastard! Get back here!”

“Henry, wait.” He turned back to Alice, who had followed him to the door. She held up a little black book to him, its title glittering at him in white text. “I don’t think he can do anything without this.”

The animator breathed a sigh of relief, gently taking The Illusion of Living out of Alice’s hands. He looked at it for a moment before sliding it into his Hammerspace for safe keeping. He gave the angel a thankful smile and a gentle pat of the head before turning his attention back to the trapped demon.

Just in time to watch Boris hand him a gift wrapped box, complete with a little bow on top.

Oh dear…

“Boris…” Henry called quietly, gently, keeping all tension out of his voice. He felt his heart clench as he watched the wolf look at him, completely oblivious to what he’d just done and unaware of the intense focus of his ‘best bud’. “I need you to come here for a sec.”

“Sure Henry.” The larger toon nodded and joined him without a second thought.

Behind him, Bendy trailed after him, keeping to the edge of the circle, before stopping as Boris stepped away from the barrier. Then, after a moment to breathe, the demon stepped out of the trap and silently followed a few paces behind the wolf, almost stalking him. As he moved onto free floor space, the malicious aura returned –having disappeared the moment Henry and Alice had trapped him.

As the web of ink began to fill the room, Boris almost stopped, his eyes wide in realisation and subsequent panic. It was only a slight gesture from Henry –beckoning him forwards– that kept the toon moving. As soon as the wolf was in reach, the animator grabbed him and yanked the toon behind him, making Boris yelp in surprise and pain, but Henry didn’t care. He spread his arms out, shielding both toons from their distorted friend and ushering them to the remains of the broken door.

All the while, he kept his eyes firmly on Bendy. He barely dared to blink. However, he suddenly noticed the demon was still holding Boris’s present.

“Aren’t you gonna open that?” he asked quietly, nodding slightly to the box in the toon’s hands.

He breathed in relief as he watched Bendy look down at the gift in confusion, as if he’d forgotten it was even there. As the toon carefully examined the object in his hands, Henry did his best to look disappointed and firmly placed his hands on his hips.

“It’s awfully rude not to open a present your best friend got for you, isn’t it?” he scolded, wary not to be too harsh as to provoke the demonic side of his toon.

Bendy looked back to him and then passed him to Boris. Then, after a moment of absolute stillness, the distorted toon seemed to shrink into himself slightly, the inky aura around him not so dark or oppressive, and there was suddenly a sense of contrition that the animator could only associate with the little devil he used to draw.

It was a relief to feel such from the monstrous creature before him.

It was short lived as Bendy pulled off the ribbon and lifted the box’s lid. With the demon’s attention diverted, Henry quickly ushered Boris and Alice out of the wrecked room. As he turned around to follow them, he swore he heard a little click as the box lid was completely removed.

There was a loud bang and the room was filled with smoke as the gift’s bomb gag finally went off. Had it been any other moment, Henry would have drawn uncomfortable parallels from his time in the trenches –but right now, he really didn’t have the luxury.

He dashed out of the room and quickly caught up with the other toons, who both bolted down a corridor once he joined them. The sound of coughing made the animator look over his shoulder to the distorted demon that was stumbling out of the room.

As soon as Bendy saw them fleeing, he huffed in a way that sent hot air puffing out from between his teeth, not unlike an angry cartoon bull. It was certainly more toony behaviour than Henry had seen in the past hour, but that didn’t make his creation chasing them any less terrifying.

“I– I’m sorry Henry!” Boris cried from in front of him. “I saw he was calming down when ya mentioned gags, and– and I thought–”

“I know, Pup,” he assured the wolf as they ran. If he was being honest, he was impressed that Boris had figured it out so quickly. “And it did help… a little. We just need to think of something else to push him along. Can either of you think of any chase gags? ‘Cause I’m coming up empty.”

“Uhh…”

“Um…”

Both toons stalled while they wracked their brains for an answer. At this point, Henry had given up trying to think of something, and was focusing on trying to keep all three of them two steps ahead of Bendy.

It was all up to Boris and Alice.

It wasn’t until they made a sudden left turn –just as Bendy took a swipe at the trailing animator– that Alice suddenly snapped her fingers and pointed to a set of doors up ahead. From what Henry could see, there looked to be about a half dozen doors lining both sides of corridor.

“The multi-door gag!” the angel yelled excitedly. “From episode ninety-two!”

“Oh, that one’s fun!” Boris nodded in agreement. The wolf slowed down and let Henry pass him, bringing up the rear and sandwiching the animator between the toons. “Just follow Alice, Henry, and try not to think about it!”

Henry didn’t have a chance to ask the toon what he meant because, a moment later, Alice pushed one of the doors open and ran through it. With no time to think, the old man trusted his friends and followed her in, the room beyond pitch black. He heard Boris slam the door behind them, just as Alice opened another door and the trio ran out into the light.

As his eyes adjusted, Henry realised that they had run out of a different door in the same corridor. Movement to his left drew his attention and he found Bendy merely one door down, peeking around the door he’d just opened, clearly with the intention of following them. The look of surprise on the demon’s face –still half-hidden with ink– as he watched his quarry run into another door almost made Henry giddy with a nervousness he didn’t even know how to describe.

Once again, he ran into the darkness –fully prepared for it this time– and didn’t flinch as he ran out of yet another door. The look of confusion and outrage on Bendy’s face, five doors up, brought that nervous energy back to the forefront, and he couldn’t fight down the smile that swept across his face before he followed Alice into yet another door.

As the abyssal black descended once again, he was surprised to find himself colliding into something that gave way immediately. As stumbled into the light, he realised that he had lost Alice and Boris wasn’t behind him. They were actually running out of their own, separate doors, with Boris even pausing slightly to blow raspberries at their demonic foe before retreating to safety.

With no other option, Henry continued running and threw himself into the nearest door. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself back in the dark, and was ready for the door when he slammed into it.

And the time after that. And the next time.

All the while, he could see Bendy was getting thoroughly worked up over missing each of them, sometimes by mere moments. But he wasn’t yelling or howling like he had previously, just a determined look in his eye that he’d catch them next time.

Eye?

Indeed, beady as it was, Henry could actually see an eye under all the melted ink. It was the first time he’d seen more than just the devil’s deformed smile since Joey’s office, and he took it as a good sign. The thought did bring up one issue however.

Joey was still out there, somewhere. He didn’t know how much time had elapsed, but he was certain his old friend was being busy with some hair-brained scheme, he’d concocted. And right now, the director had no one to stop him, as he and the toons were all stuck dealing with Bendy, and any other old member of the studio that was still here was in no state to get involved.

To his surprise, Alice gave him a knowing look as she ran passed him. It took a couple more runs before they came close to one another again, and time seemed to slow as they met midway. She smiled understandingly and murmured a single word to him.

“Go.”

He didn’t need telling twice, and he focused on the door before him. He thought of somewhere –anywhere– other than the corridor to come out at, and prayed that the gag would let him out that way. It was the only option that wouldn’t instantly alert Bendy that he was missing from their little game of peek-a-boo.

The room beyond wasn’t dark, and he almost ran head first into a wall that didn’t have a door. He managed to catch himself in time, though, cushioning his half-collision with his hands. Turning back to close the door he’d come through, so Bendy couldn’t follow, he found himself staring at another empty wall.

His eyes danced over the blank space. He knew he should just move on, chalk the whole thing down to toon logic, but he couldn’t. Even cartoons had rules, and disappearing doors weren’t typically one of them –unless lazy backgrounds snuck through the quality checks. And the more he thought about, the more his mind started slipping back to the door gag, and how utterly impossible it was.

Sure, he’d shaken off a concussion in Joey’s office, pulled pens out of Hammerspace, and his very first gag had been drawing a hole for Bendy to fall through, but that was still pretty small time stuff by toon standards. This? It didn’t make any sense how he could run into pitch blackness and just pop out somewhere else. How had they managed it? How had he?

It was wrong.

It was wrong.

Henry leaned against the wall behind and slid down to the ground, landing with a bump and in a collapsed heap. He could feel his stomach coiling and twisting, nausea rising. He could feel beads of sweat running down from his hairline, beads that he knew weren’t sweat. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to focus and settle himself. He winced as he inhaled too much, making the gashes across his side ache.

Thankfully, concentrating on the physical pain made it easier for him to move past the nausea and logical dissonance. As excruciating as it was, he continued breathing deeply, letting real experiences blanket and smother toon ones. And, slowly but surely, he felt his body and mind calm.

He knew he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t keep dealing with this toon world and its alternate logic, and his current state was proof of that fact. How Joey had managed it for so many years without destabilising like everyone else, he didn’t dare to imagine. He could almost feel his time as a stable individual, able to leave this hellhole of a studio, running out… as cringingly melodramatic as such thinking was.

Regardless, this had to end. He had to find Joey and finish this. And collapsed in a heap against a wall wasn’t productive to that goal.

He opened his eyes and gingerly picked himself up. Once fully upright, he glanced at both ends of the corridor, trying to figure out which one he should take. As he stared at his options, he felt dread creep down his spine; he didn’t recognise this part of the studio. Even if he did know where Joey was going, he could easily go down the wrong path and never find his old friend.

Squeak.

Air caught in his throat as he turned in surprise to the noise. For a moment, he saw no one as he looked around him, despite the feeling that someone –or something – was watching him. Then, he caught sight of a Bendy doll in the middle of the hall, just before one end turned as a sharp corner.

Wordlessly, he approached the toy, stopping just short of it. He stared at it for a few seconds, wondering if he should pick it up, but decided against the idea. Something just did feel right about taking it. So, he looked round the corner instead.

Nothing. Just another empty corridor… with another Bendy doll in the middle.

Henry looked back down at the one by his feet. As he stared at it, he could almost feel it staring back. It would have been creepy, except –somehow– he knew it was trying to help him. And as a muffled yell of irritation echoed from somewhere nearby, he realised why.

Discord. Disassociation. Destabilisation.

The reflection’s words were starting to make a lot more sense now. But now wasn’t time. He had to catch up with Joey.

“Thanks… punk,” he muttered to the doll before taking off down the corridor, taking care not to jostle his side too much. As he reached the next toy, he glanced at it when it that squeaked at him, unimpressed at its attempt at surprise. When it remained silent, he carried on.

He had an old friend to find.

Click for Part 1, Part 2, Part 3