#i think about joey drew a normal amount

[inkdemonapologist]

Last night on the Sammyserver that idea of "was Joey's personality also being corrupted by the ink" was brought up in the context of, if we go off TLO, then what feeling in Joey would be enhanced by the ink? So obviously I had to ponder this, and man... I think if I were to pick a TLO-Style Ink-Enhanced Emotion for Joey Drew I'd actually lean towards….. insecurity?

It's the thing he most wants to hide -- that he could ever be anything other than confidently competent -- and It's a part of him that gets worse and worse the deeper he gets. In TioL, he's obviously spilling his weirdly insecure bragging everywhere, but in the stories he tells we see enough of a version of him that like…. had genuinely good friends, who liked him, and it just seems like he couldn't have always been that bad. But we do see he was always insecure under his confident persona, that he didn't like people poking at whether he was good enough or rich enough or smart enough, and he admits in the book how much this bothers him.

Then we get to DCTL and he's obsessed with proving himself. He's throwing this huge party and insisting to Buddy that he's "gotta make them all think… gotta make them all KNOW" that he's still important. His most blatant moments of overt sexism -- the weird importance he places on being "manly," and his claim that Abby can't possibly be as good at business as he is -- are in extreme contrast to his comments about Abby in TioL, and his own history of being raised by a mother who ran the business side of things. While you could read his comments in TioL as empty virtue signaling, I think it's a lot easier to read the DCTL moments as Joey sliding into something gross that he didn't used to believe, in order to justify himself and make himself feel bigger in a moment when he felt his reputation being threatened. In TLO he's EVEN MORE DESPERATE, getting so weird and passive-aggressive at this party over some kid not recognising him, and Bill takes one look at him outside the party and can plainly see he's "new money" that's trying way too hard to flaunt his wealth.

In the end, that building, raging insecurity overtook everything, made everything seem like a worthwhile sacrifice in order to Stay In Control… and eventually, it took a once-charming man and made a fool out of him, just as the ink took Sammy's desire to serve and be loved in return and transformed him into a joke.

[queenofcats17]

The Ink Demonth 20

Today is Factory.

=============================================

The studio didn't look right. Audrey was sure of that. She didn't know entirely how she was sure of it, but she was. This didn't look like an animation studio. Not entirely. There were pieces, little fragments of places that looked like an ordinary animation studio, or whatever was considered in Joey Drew Studios, but the vast majority looked... different. Everything was... more industrial.

Like a factory.

"Did it always look like this?" She asked as she sat on the bed in Memory Joey's little hideout. She'd needed a break and this had seemed the best place to do it.

"What do you mean?" Joey was hovering by the sink, fidgeting with his lantern.

"I mean, I know everything is weird here," Audrey said, gesturing around her. "It's not supposed to look like a normal animation studio. But did it always look like this? All... Industrial?"

"Ah." Joey's shoulders slumped. "No. It... It didn't."

"What did it look like before?" Audrey looked over at him, shifting a bit so that she was sitting with her legs crossed.

"It was... smaller," Joey answered after a moment or two of thought. "More simplistic. At least in most areas."

"Why did it change?" Audrey asked.

Joey paused, hunching his shoulders. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. "Why do you think?"

Now it was Audrey's turn to go silent, her mind going to all the posters she'd seen littered around the studio. Wilson Knows Your Purpose. "...Wilson?"

Joey nodded, returning to fiddling with his lantern.

"If he did change things, why did he make it like a factory?" Audrey asked, trying to make the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach go away.

She hadn't really had all that many thoughts about Wilson prior to coming here. She'd seen him around but she hadn't really talked to him all that much. He'd just sort of been... There. And then he'd brought her here. Which meant he might be her only way home. So he... he couldn't be that bad of a guy. He couldn't be that bad of a guy because she needed him to get home. And he'd let her go home. He had to. She needed to believe that.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Joey said with a weak laugh.

"But if you had to guess, what would your guess be?" Audrey pressed.

Joey let out a long exhale, finally turning around to face her. "I suppose... Maybe he values efficiency?"

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Audrey forced a smile. "Valuing efficiency."

Joey's expression darkened. "Not always."

Audrey wanted to argue, but the look on Joey's face made her stop. The sheer amount of regret and despair on his face rendered her unable to continue the conversation. So, she just looked away, laying down on the bed.

Joey turned back to his lantern, going back to fiddling with it.

They didn't speak again until Audrey decided to leave the safehouse.

[daydreams--ofdarkness]

Guess who decided to give Cara design references?

Sweater Cara - The first time I attempted to make a sprite for her, this was what her outfit looked like. Her sweater was striped similarly to Betty's current sweater, but I decided to simplify her design a bit.

OG Cara Outfit - What I originally drew Cara in. This was before I fully fleshed out her character, but I'm still somewhat proud of this design!

Additional Notes:

After thinking about it a bit, I've decided that I want Mia Cara to be read as trans. Most of her clothing was given to her by her Nonna and/or made for her by Betty.

Her sweater was made by Betty. Despite the measurements fitting Betty's body more than Cara's, Cara still heavily treasures the gift.

She's heavily superstitious thanks to her relatives. Thanks to two of her relatives, she has been normalized to superstitious individuals interrupting themselves to ward off bad luck; her youngest cousin, her oldest aunt, and her Nonno all have superstitious compulsions (undiagnosed OCD).

Mia Cara can only diagnose physical conditions, not mental ones. Once Joey realized Mia was sentient, she decided it probably wasn't a good idea to give Mia Cara free access to a dictionary of mental conditions.

In her chest hatch, Mia Cara has a variety of emergency ("emergency") equipment. This ranges from First Aid Kits, to several types of beauty products, to random foreign currencies. After meeting Ralsei and Berdly, she has started to carry around eyeglass repair kits.

Dark World outfit and no outfit references under the cut

Dark World - Her original design was somewhat inspired by Ralsei's, but more blue. I decided to make it more Her, and did a small amount of research into traditional Argentine clothing. I will probably change the colors in the future, since I still want her to have a similarities to Ralsei while being able to stand alone.

No Outfit - Literally just a reference for body proportions and stuff.

[whatyouwantedmetosee]

E, I, L and N for the ask game you just reblogged

[For this ask meme]

E: Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom, if so, what

Does this art count? (Fun fact - that art is my #1 post on this blog from this year, by a very large margin.)

I: Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

There's definitely a few out there - though it's probably about evenly balanced with the amount that I didn't like that Tumblr got me (begrudgingly) interested in. Often, if Tumblr makes me dislike a fandom, it's not because of showing me Terrible Things or whatever - it's just a fandom I was neutral on but got annoyed by seeing flood my dash and then I blocked the tag.

Either way, it's pretty mild. I usually unfollow folks or block tags before it reaches a point where I'm actively frustrated by the fandom itself. I tend to have more issues with fandoms that I associate with people who've hurt me, rather than just because of Tumblr as a whole.

L: Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves (chars you’re neutral on are fair game, as are chars you dislike)

I don't really hate any character in BatIM, but I'm neutral on a lot of the side characters - the ones with only one or two audio logs and less plot relevancy.

That being said, those characters are rife for personal interpretations and headcanons, and most are neutral only because I haven't had any reason or interest in coming up with my own concepts for them yet.

So, one thing I can say I enjoy is seeing other people's interpretations of them! There's a ton of creativity in this fandom for that kind of thing.

N: Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)

1.) More diverse body types in fan designs. BatIM fandom has some really cool designs out there, and I'm obviously not saying that no diverse body types exist there because that'd be a complete lie.

But I've definitely noticed that it's common for most of the casts to be a "normal" body type, while characters being fatter or more muscular is reserved for characters whose personalities ""fit"" that, like making Jack the Short Fat Character, or Tom the Tall Muscular Guy. (Or making Susie fat to add tension when a skinny Allison replaces her.)

I've been meaning to make a post on this at some point, but I'd love to see more diverse designs that aren't solely to "fit" the story or personalities of the cast. I'd love to see shorter or fatter Normans, muscular Jacks, etc. etc. - there are so many interesting options!!!

2.) Similar to 1, more divergence in character interpretations would be super fun to see.

It makes sense with a fandom that's been around so long, that people often pick up character interpretations from the existing fandom content - but it's nice to see people that branch out of those "set" ideas too!

Or at least, it'd be nice for people interacting with various AUs to not assume that characters fit those pre-existing ideas. People often send asks assuming that, for example, everyone's Joey Drew is a disgusting abusive jerk, or that everyone's Grant Cohen is a wimpy anxious pushover, etc - even when those people's characters don't fit that at all!

3. More Jack Fain

I just think he's neat. :]

[snelbz]

What Happens In Vegas... {6}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz​ / @tacmc​ collab

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

“Hey.” Rhys padded down the stairs seven hours later, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. He’d slicked his wet hair back and his tattoos were displayed to perfection, defining his lean torso and muscular arms. There was a lot of skin on show. The man was a visual feast. I made a conscious effort to keep my tongue inside my head. Keeping the welcoming grin off my face was beyond my abilities. I’d planned to play it cool so as not to spook him. That plan had failed.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

“Nothing much. There was a delivery for you.” I pointed to the bags and boxes waiting by the door. All day, I’d pondered the problem of us. The only thing I’d come up with was that I didn’t want our time to end. I didn’t want to sign those annulment papers. Not yet. The idea made me want to start puking all over again. I wanted to try with Rhys. I wanted to be with him. I needed a new plan.

The pad of my thumb rubbed over my bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth. I’d gone for a long walk up the beach earlier, watching the waves crash on the shore and reliving that kiss. Over and over again, I’d played it inside my mind. The same went for our conversations. In fact, I’d picked apart every moment of our time together, explored every nuance. Every moment I could remember, anyway, and I’d tried damn hard to remember all of it.

“A delivery?” He crouched down beside the closest package and started tearing at the wrapping. I averted my eyes before I caught a glimpse up his towel, despite being wildly curious.

“Would you mind if I used your phone?” I asked.

“Feyre, you don’t need to ask. Help yourself to whatever.”

“Thanks.” Joey and my folks were probably freaking out, wondering what was going on. It was time to brave up to the butt-picture repercussions. I groaned on the inside.

“This one’s for you.” He handed me a thick brown-paper parcel done up with string, followed by a shopping bag with some brand I’d never heard of printed on the side. “Ah, this one too, by the look.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I asked Amarantha to order some stuff for us.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? No.” Rhys shook his head. Then he kneeled down in front of me and tore into the brown package in my hands. “No ‘oh.’ We need clothes. It’s really simple.”

“That’s very kind of you, Rhys, but I’m fine.”

He wasn’t listening. Instead he held up a red dress the same thigh-baring length as those girls at the mansion had worn. “What the fuck? You’re not wearing this.” The designer dress went flying, and he ripped into the shopping bag at my feet.

“Rhys, you can’t just throw it on the ground.”

“Sure I can, I paid for it. Here, this is a little better.”

A black tank top fell into my lap. At least this one looked the right size. The thigh-high red dress had been a size-two joke. Quite possibly a mean one, given Amarantha’s dislike of me back in LA. No matter.

A tag dangled from the tank. The price. Shit. They couldn’t be serious.

“Whoa. I could pay my rent for weeks with this top.”

In lieu of a response he threw a pair of skinny black jeans at me. “Here, they’re okay too.”

I put the jeans aside. “It’s a plain cotton tank top. How can this possibly cost two hundred dollars?”

“What do you think of this?” A length of silky blue fabric dangled from his hand. “Nice, huh?”

I ignored his question, still staring at the tank in my hand. “Do they sew the seams with gold thread? Is that it?”

“What are you talking about?” He held up the blue dress, inspecting it closer, turning it this way and that. “Hell no, nevermind, it’s backless. The top of your ass will probably show in that.” It joined the red dress on the floor. My hands itched to rescue them, fold them away nicely. But Rhysand just ripped into the next box. “What were you saying?”

“I’m talking about the price of this top.”

“Shit, no. We’re not talking about the price of that top because we’re not talking about money. It’s an issue for you, and I’m not going there.” A micromini denim skirt came next. “What the fuck was Am thinking ordering you this sort of stuff?”

“Well, to be fair, you do normally have girls in bikinis hanging off you.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “In comparison, the backless dress is quite sedate.”

He kept digging through the bags, but he looked up at me again. “You’re different. You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I didn’t entirely believe the tone of my own voice.

His forehead wrinkled up with disdain. “Damn it. Look at the length of this. I can’t even tell if it’s meant to be a skirt or a fucking belt.”

Laughter burst out of me and he gave me a hurt look, big, violet puppy-dog eyes of extreme sadness and displeasure. Clearly, I had hurt his heart.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But you sound like my father.” He shoved the micro mini back into its bag. At least it wasn’t on the floor.

“Yeah? Your dad and I should meet. I think we’d get along great.”

I blinked. “You want to meet my father?”

Shrugging, Rhys said, “Depends. Would he shoot me on sight?”

“No.” Probably not.

He just gave me a curious look and burrowed into the next box. “That’s better. Here.”

He passed me a couple of sedate T-shirts, one black and one blue.

“I don’t think you should be selecting nun’s clothing for me, friend,” I said, amused at his behavior. “It’s vaguely hypocritical.”

“They’re not nun’s clothes. They just cover the essentials. Is that too much to ask?” The next bulging bag was passed to me in its entirety. “Here.”

“You do admit it’s just a tiny bit hypocritical, though, right?”

“Admit nothing. Hybern taught me that a long time ago. Look in the bag.”

I did so and he burst out laughing, whatever expression I wore being apparently hilarious.

“What is this?” I asked, feeling all wide-eyed with wonder. It might have been a thong if the makers had seen fit to invest just a little more material into it.

“You said I was dressing you like a nun, so I’m dressing you like a nun.”

“La Chaleur.” I read the tag, then turned it over to check out the price.

“Shit. Will you not look at the price, please, Feyre?” Rhys dove at me and I lay back, trying to make out the figures on the crazily swaying tag that was bigger than the scrap of lace. His larger hand closed over mine, engulfing the thong. “Don’t. For fuck’s sake.”

The back of my head hit the edge of a step and I winced, my eyes filling with tears. “Ow.”

“You all right?” His body stretched out above mine. A hand rubbed carefully at the back of my skull.

“Um, yeah.” The scent of his soap and shampoo was pure heaven, Lord help me. But there was something more than that. His cologne. It wasn’t heavy. Just a light scent of spice. There was something really familiar about it.

The tag hanging down in front of my face momentarily distracted me however. “Three hundred dollars?”

He smirked. “It’s worth it.”

“Holy shit. No, it’s not.” It wasn’t, there was no way it was.

He hung the thong from the tip of a finger, a crazy cool smile on his face. “Trust me. I’d have paid ten times that amount for this. No questions asked.”

“Rhys, I could get the exact same thing for less than a tenth of that price in a normal store. That’s insane.”

“No, you couldn’t.” He balanced his weight on an elbow set on the step beside my head and started reading from the tag. “See, this exquisite lace is handmade by local artists in a small region of southern France famous for just such craftsmanship. It’s made from only the finest of silks. You can’t get that at Walmart, baby.”

My eyebrows bunched together. “No, I guess not.”

He made a pleased humming sound and looked at me with eyes soft and hazy. Then his smile faded. He pulled back and scrunched the thong up in his hand. “Anyway….”

“Wait.” My fingers curled around his biceps, keeping him in place.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice tightening.

“Just, let me…” I lifted my face to his neck. The scent was strongest there. I breathed him deep, letting myself get high off the scent of him. I shut my eyes and tried to remember.

Something. Anything.

“Feyre?” The muscles in his arms flexed and hardened. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“We were in the gondolas at the Venetian. You said you couldn’t swim, that I’d have to save you if we capsized.”

His Adam’s apple jumped. “Yeah.”

“I was terrified for you.”

His chuckle was rough. “I know. You hung on to me so tight I could barely breathe.”

I drew back so I could see his face.

“Why do you think we stayed on them for so long?” he asked. “You were practically sitting in my lap.”

I felt stupid, but I still asked, “Can you swim?”

He laughed quietly. “Of course I can swim. I don’t even think the water was that deep.”

My eyes narrowed. “It was all a ruse. You’re tricky, Rhysand Lunasa.”

“And you’re funny, Feyre Archeron.” His face relaxed, his eyes softening again. “You remembered something.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s great.” He smiled, a true, handsome smile, one that he’d only blessed me with a few times. Anything else?”

I gave him a sad smile in return. “No, sorry.” 

He looked away, disappointed, I think, but trying not to let it show.

I hesitated. “Rhys?”

“Mm?”

I leaned forward to press my lips to his, wanting to kiss him, needing to. He pulled back again. My hopes dived. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Feyre. What are you doing?”

“Kissing you?” I thought it was obvious.

He said nothing. Jaw rigid, he looked away.

“You’re allowed to kiss me and cuddle me and buy me insanely priced lingerie and I can’t kiss you back?” My hands slid down to his and he held them. At least he wasn’t rejecting me totally.

“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he asked, his voice stern.

I studied our entwined fingers for a moment, getting my thoughts in order. “Rhys, I’m probably not ever going to remember everything about that night in Vegas. But I thought we could maybe make some new good memories this weekend. Something we can both share.”

He didn’t reply immediately, and after a minute, I looked up into his handsome face. “Just this weekend?”

My heart filled my throat. “No. I don’t know. It just… it feels like there’s meant to be more between us.”

“More than friends?” He watched me, eyes intent.

“Yes. I like you. You’re kind and sweet and beautiful and you’re easy to talk to. When we’re not always arguing about Vegas. I feel like…”

His violet eyes were bright. “What?”

I didn’t want to stumble over my words. I didn’t want him to think I was doubting this decision, doubting him. “Like this weekend is a second chance. I don’t want to just let it slip by. I think I’d regret that for a long time.”

He nodded, cocked his head. “So what was your plan? Just kiss me and see what happened?”

I blinked. “My plan?”

He smirked, leaning closer ever so slightly. “I know about you and your plans. You told me all about how you make a plan for everything.”

“I told you that?” I was an idiot.

“Yeah. You did. You especially told me about the big plan.” He stared down at me, eyes intense. “You know… finish school then spend three to five years establishing yourself at a midrange firm before moving up the ranks somewhere more prestigious and starting your own small consultancy business by thirty-five. Then there’d maybe time to get a relationship and those pesky 2.4 kids out of the way.”

My throat was suddenly a dry, barren place. “I was really chatty that night.”

“Mm. But what was interesting was the way you didn’t talk about that plan like it was a good thing.” He looked at me and the way those eyes were looking at me, I couldn’t have hid anything from him, even if I wanted to. “You talked about it like it was a cage and you were rattling the bars.”

I had nothing. He read me like a book and I had no idea what to say.

“So, come on,” he said softly, taunting me. “What’s the plan here, Feyre? How were you going to convince me?”

“Oh. Well, I was, um… I was going to seduce you, I guess. And see what happened. Yeah…”

He snorted. “How? By complaining about me buying you stuff?”

“No,” I said, clearing my throat. “That was just an added bonus. You’re welcome.”

He licked his lips, but I saw the smile threatening to break through. “Right. Come on, then, show me your moves.”

I hesitated. “My moves?”

“Your seduction techniques. Come on, time’s a-wasting.” I hesitated and he clicked his tongue, impatient. “I’m only wearing a towel, baby. How hard can this be?”

“Fine, fine.” I held his fingers tight, refusing to let go. “So, Rhys?”

“Yes, Feyre?”

“I was thinking…”

“Hmm?”

I was so hopelessly outclassed with him. I gave him the only thing I could think of. The only thing that I knew had a track record of working.

“I think you’re a really nice guy and I was wondering if you’d maybe like to come up to my room and have sex with me and maybe hang out for a while. If that’s maybe something you’d be interested in doing…”

His eyes darkened, accusing and unhappy. He started to pull back again. “Now you’re just being funny.”

“No.” I slipped my hand around the back of his neck, beneath his damp hair, trying to bring him back to me. I pressed my forehead to his, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. “No, I’m very, very serious.”

Jaw tensed, he stared at me.

I breathed, “You asked me this morning in the car if I thought you were scary. The answer is yes. You scare me shitless. I don’t know what I’m doing here. But I hate the thought of leaving you.”

His gaze searched my face, but still he said nothing. He was going to turn me down. I knew it. I’d asked for too much, pushed him too far. He’d walk away from me, and who could blame him after everything?

“It’s okay,” I said, gathering what remained of my pride up off the floor, about to grab my Rhys-approved tank, jeans and t-shirts and run upstairs.

“Shit.” He sighed. “You’re kinda terrifying too.”

I breathed, “I am?”

“Yeah, you are. And wipe that smile off your face,” he teased.

I did no such thing. “Sorry.”

He angled his head and kissed me, his lips firm and so good. My eyes closed and my mouth opened. The taste of him took me over. The mint of his toothpaste and the slide of his tongue against mine. All of it was beyond perfect. He lay me back against the stairs. The new bruise at the back of my head throbbed in protest when I bumped it yet again. I flinched but didn’t stop. Rhys cupped the back of my skull, guarding against further injury.

The weight of his body held me in place, not that I was trying to escape. The edge of the steps pressed into my back and I couldn’t care less. I’d have happily lain there for hours with him above me, the warm scent of his skin making me high. His hips held my legs wide open. If not for my jeans and his towel, things would get interesting fast. God, I hated cotton just then.

We didn’t once break the kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist and my hands curved around his shoulders. Nothing had ever felt this good. My ache for him increased and caught fire, spreading right through me. My legs tightened around him, muscles burning. I couldn’t get close enough. Talk about frustrating. His mouth moved over my jaw and down my neck, lighting me up from inside. He bit and licked, finding sensitive spots below my ear and in the crook of my neck. Places I hadn’t known I had. The man had magic. He knew things I didn’t. Where he’d learned his tricks didn’t matter. Not right then.

“Up,” he said in a rough voice. Slowly he stood, one hand beneath my ass and the other still protecting my skull.

“Rhys, no.” I scrambled to tighten my hold on his back.

“Hey.” He drew back just enough to look into my eyes. His pupils were huge, almost swallowing the iris whole. “I am not going to drop you. That’s never going to happen.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“You trust me?” He asked.

“Yes.” I meant it, too.

“Good.” His hand slid down my back. “Now put your arms around my neck.”

I did, and my balance immediately felt better. Both of Rhysand’s hands gripped my butt and I locked my feet behind his back, holding on tight. His face showed no sign of pain or imminent back breakage. Maybe he was strong enough to carry me around after all.

“That’s it.” He smiled and kissed my chin. “All good?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

He simply asked, “Bed?”

“Yes.” I hoped I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.

He chuckled in a way that did bad things to me. “Kiss me,” he said.

Without hesitation, I did so, fitting my mouth to his. Sliding my tongue between his lips and getting lost in him all over again. He groaned, his hands holding me hard against him.

Which was when the doorbell rang, making a low, mournful sound that echoed in my heart and groin. “Nooo.”

“You’re fucking joking.” Rhysand’s face screwed up and he gave the tall double doors the foulest of looks. At least I wasn’t alone. I groaned and gave him a tight full-body hug. It would have been funny if it didn’t hurt so much.

A hand rubbed at my back, sliding beneath the hem of my tank to stroke the skin beneath. “It’s like the universe doesn’t want me inside you or something, I swear,” he grumbled.

“Make them go away. Please.”

He chuckled, clutching me tighter, but then he groaned and kissed my neck. “Let me answer the door and get rid of them, then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

“Your towel is on the floor.”

He smirked. “That’s a problem. Down you hop.”

I reluctantly loosened my hold and put my feet back on firm ground. Again the gong-like sound filled the house. 

Rhys grabbed a pair of black jeans out of a bag and quickly pulled them on. All I caught was a flash of toned ass. Keeping my eyes mostly averted might have been the hardest thing I’d ever done.

“Hang back just in case it’s press.” He looked into a small screen embedded beside the door. “Ah, man.”

I tensed. “Trouble?”

“No. Worse. Old friends with food.” He gave me a brief glance. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be hurting too.”

“But—”

“Anticipation makes it sweeter. I promise,” he said, then threw open the door. A hand tugged down the front of his T-shirt, trying to cover the obvious bulge beneath his jeans. “Drakon. Miryam. Hey, good to see you.”

I was going to kill him. Slowly. Strangle him with the overpriced thong. A fitting death for a rock star.

A couple about my parents’ age came in, laden down with pots and bottles of wine. The man, Drakon, was tall, muscular, and, surprise, covered in tats. Miryam was one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen. They both wore wide grins and gave me curious glances. I could feel my face heat when they took in the lingerie and clothing strewn about on the floor. It probably looked like we’d been about to embark on a two-person orgy.

Which was the truth, but still.

“How the hell are ya?” Drakon roared in an accent I couldn’t quite place, giving Rhys a one-armed hug on account of the Crock-Pot he held in the other. “And this must be Feyre. I have to read about it in the damn paper, Rhys? Are you serious?” He gave my husband a stern look, one brow arched high. “Miryam was pissed.”

“Sorry. It was— ah, it was sudden.” Rhys kissed Miryam on the cheek and took a casserole dish and a full bag from her. She patted him on the cheek in a motherly fashion.

“Introduce me,” she said.

“Feyre, this is Miryam and Drakon, close friends of mine. They’ve been taking care of the house for me.” He looked relaxed standing between these people. His smile was easy and his eyes were bright. I hadn’t seen him looking so happy before. Jealousy reared its ugly head, sinking its teeth in.

“Hello.” I put out my hand for shaking, but Drakon engulfed me in a hug.

“She’s so pretty. Isn’t she pretty, hon?” Drakon stepped aside and Miryam came closer, a warm smile on her face.

I was being a jerk. These were nice people. I should be profoundly grateful not every female Rhys knew rubbed her boobs on him. Damn my screaming hormones for making me surly.

“She sure is. Hello, Feyre. I’m Miryam.” The woman’s coffee-brown eyes went liquid. She seemed ready to burst into tears. In a rush, she took my hands and squeezed my fingers tight. “I’m just so happy he found a nice girl, finally.”

“Oh, thank you.” My face felt flammable.

Rhys gave me a wry grin.

��Okay, enough of that,” Drakon said. “Let’s let these lovebirds have their privacy. We can visit another time.”

Rhys stood aside, still holding the casserole dish and bag. When he saw me watching, he winked.

“I’ll have to show you the setup downstairs sometime,” Drakon said. “You gonna be here for long?”

“We’re not sure,” he said, giving me a glance.

Miryam clung to my hands, reluctant to leave. “I made chicken enchiladas and rice. Do you like Mexican? It’s Rhysand’s favorite.” Miryam’s brows wrinkled. “But I didn’t think to check if that was all right with you. You might be vegetarian.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not, and I love Mexican,” I said, squeezing her fingers back, though not as hard. “Thank you so much.”

She let out a release and grinned.

“Hon,” called Drakon.

“I’m coming.” Miryam gave my fingers a parting pat. “If you need anything at all while you’re here, you give me a call. Okay?”

Rhys said nothing. It was clearly my decision if they stayed or went. My body was still abuzz with need. That, and we seemed to do better alone. I didn’t want to share him because I was shallow and wanted hot sex. I wanted him all to myself. But it was the right thing to do. And if anticipation made it sweeter, well, maybe this once the right thing to do was also the best thing to do.

“Stay,” I said, stammering out the words. “Have dinner with us. You’ve made so much. We could never possibly finish it all.”

Rhysand’s gaze jumped to me, a small smile of approval on his face. He looked almost boyish, trying to contain his excitement. Like I’d just told him his birthday had been brought forward. Whoever these people were, they were important to him. I felt as though I’d just passed some test.

Miryam sighed. “Drakon is right, you’re newlyweds.”

“Stay. Please,” I said. Miryam looked to Drakon. Drakon shrugged but smiled, obviously delighted.

Miryam clapped her hands with glee. “Let’s eat!”

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep6: Joey Wheeler is on Fire, Yet Again

Came down with a little sickness-not the biggie, just a little sly guy. But I took some meds, I’m a little floaty, I’ve only been listening to baroque music all morning for some reason? And I hate baroque music usually? But I’ll leave it to bro to tell me if this is fluid enough.

Just so you know, these caps were kind of a hot mess for a while and some of them read like that Garfield in of hot eat the food comic until...today. So pls don’t judge me, Judge my damn DMV where no one was following Covid regulations because I’m pretty sure that’s where I got this damn cold.

We start off with Roland getting more attention than he ever has in his entire life. Like honestly, I don’t know what Roland’s job really is...but he’s got a very diverse set of very useless skills. One of which, is knowing how to announce sports games that aren’t really a sport, while those games he’s announcing slowly fall into chaos.

Anyway, Roland’s taking so long cherishing his sweet time before everything goes to hell, that he’s boring Joey, who’s kinda turned into a ball of stress in the waiting room.

A lot of this episode is us watching them watching Joey having a break down moment by moment, TBH.

(read more under the cut)

Yugi telling Joey to study his cards and straight up--what?

Like at this point they know what’s on the cards, right? Like there comes a point where even Yugioh cards have a finite amount of words and I’m just going to assume that like...Joey probably knows them all in his own deck, right?

(bro note: they have no limit on what they will put on a card)

Then again, maybe Yugi doesn’t know what “study” means?

Also, appreciate how some artist crosshatched the hell on Joey’s nose there and I zoomed out and ruined it.

Now for some reason every duelist is hanging out in the duel lodge, including our current arch-villain guy who’s brought a book. I want to know what book this guy even reads so no one could suspect he’s actually a hacker who uses computers. He’s reading romance, right? And I don’t think he’d even be into Twilight, I think he’s straight up into hard core Mom romance like a lame ass Nicholas Sparks over there reading “Dear John” for the millionth time because he is completely un-phased by anything else happening in this room.

Joey, our hero, just out there being an asshole for no reason.

After Tea is pushed into a locker or something screaming about her need for female friends (which she screamed in earshot of Rebecca again, who I figured was on friends terms with her after last episode...but I guess not) Leon hops up to remind us that we should be caring about the fact that his character exists.

And like, I love Leon’s hair color--that’s a good choice, and legit that is the color I tried to dye my hair at the beginning of the epidemic (it didn’t work PS, my hair cannot take dye for the life of it) but also like...he just kinda feels like a weak Rebecca as far as characters go. He’s young, he’s good at cards...I think he goes to a private school? That’s all I can think of about Leon.

He mostly just reminds us that the big prize of this tourney is to duel Yugi, who anyone could have dueled at any point even without the tournament.

On the way out of the...duel room? lounge? Area? Joey decides to like...make peace with Zigfried, and I gotta tell you, I kinda have to side with Zigfried, because Joey spent the last ten minutes being a freak in the dressing room/lounge/bathroom and at one point looked like he was going to hold the entire locker room in a stranglehold.

I would also want some space from Joey Wheeler, is what I’m saying.

After insulting Joey’s style (which honestly, Joey...has a style? He pops his collar, that’s his entire style.) Zigfried assures us that Joey’s gonna lose and like...

...probably, right? Just looking at the plausible direction this season will go.

Anyway, Joey is such a mess (which is the theme of the episode, that Joey needs to learn to chill in order to win at card games) that Rebecca is like “I understand if all of you leave me to go help our poor baby Joey.” And no one felt bad for her.

Mokuba comes over to tell everyone all of the Kaiba family secrets because Mokuba has no filter.

Seto has devoted himself to staring at a computer screen for the rest of this episode. I guess he’ll put their names into Google, realize that social media hasn’t been invented yet, and then just lie his head down on the desk and take a power nap until the tournament is over. Much like I did after taking Dayquil this afternoon.

I like how Seto dressed for success and then locked himself in the server room for most of this arc so far. Maybe he’s just...really tired, I dunno. I don’t really blame the guy, he’s had a hard time.

And then Yugi was like “DAMN IT MOKUBA, JUST ONCE CAN YOU NOT INVITE THE ILLUMINATI???”

And we had a weird scene where Yugi just started talking to the ghost and it was while he was talking to everyone else, and the show didn’t treat it like that’s a weird thing to do...but it was a weird thing to do.

This show does that sometimes, where I guess they imply that Yugi’s Pharaoh conversations are split second conversations but...they’re not, right?

Also this chick ain’t gone yet, and Mokuba is just failing at his entire job for not zeroing in on vibes coming off this chick like stinky cheeseman.

So listen.

Did the Kaibas make like 3 types of Blue Eyes Caboose to one up Noah? Because Noah made one choo choo dragon, and then Mokuba and Seto were like “how dare” and then made sure that everyone ride every single version of the blue eyes caboose just to see how proud of them they were.

How many months of troubleshooting was the train? Like how long in development did Seto and Mokuba spend on these? A lot right? Like most of the time?

I did not check the subs to see if Roland said Jumping or Champion but I like to believe that Roland thought it was a cool new name he gave him.

Then these guys all showed up.

Hey so...can we talk seating arrangements?

Tea decided not to sit next to Yugi after complaining about not spending time with him for like how many episodes? Or was it too awkward to sit on top of what was probably Pharaoh?

Or did Mokuba go like “please, Tea, I cannot sit next to the others because I’m pretty sure one is a mole that is about to go cray” and was Tea like “Good, I need female friends, these ones are driving me crazy!” and then was Mokuba like peering desperately over the edge of his self made dragon train prison realizing he has to listen to Tea complain about boys for the rest of his ride across molten lava?

Headcanons abound about this weird seating arrangement that the animators drew for the reasons they did...but reasons I cannot fully understand. That and the Dayquil is making me overfixate on random stuff.

And also, Tea is kind of the Kaiba’s security’s understudy. Just there to always protect Mokuba with her ass because she’s the strongest woman alive.

PS I missed the tumblr wars because at the time I was trying to like...run a proper business on blogger. When Blogger died and I jumped over here it was like a weird ruin where everyone was like “tumblr is the most toxic place alive” and...I’ve had a really nice time here, actually. Completely missed that civil war period and I have no regrets.

Now I was there for the Petz wars (warz, I guess) where people were very militant about Petz abuse (abuze?) where apparently people were using the spray bottle on their catz too much and people were very, very upset about it to the point that they were like campaigning about it on their angelfire websites with the most bizarre grassroots campaigns that I still recall, to this day because they were like...well they looked like this:

PLAPA. Not only am I 100% positive that only this one guy ever called this movement PLAPA, but I’m 100% positive that not only are Catz not real people, but also this wasn’t actually happening and we never had any proof that it was. Either way, if people knew or suspected that you hadn’t deleted the spray bottle from your game (which at the time I had no idea how to do because I was a wee child) they would basically assume you were on a one way road to being a mass murderer in real life.

In real life we were 7 years old so like...thanks?

But that’s the closest I got to toxicity and at the time I was too young to make an email account and actually converse with these people. I was just there to download their Petz hexes, and I already made a post about how wonderful and incredible Petz Hexing was.

And y’all, I heard, just now after a little deep dive into the Petz Abuse debacle (which yes, is on the wiki), that apparently, like gardening, Petz Hexing came back in a big way during the epidemic--and I have found an active Petz forum in this the year 2021. The only problem is that I no longer remember how to use old timey forums...and I think I’m locked out of seeing most of these threads (and like this forum is so old I think I have to send them a letter in the physical mail to apply). But, I’m pretty sure they’re hosting a picture contest for who’s dogz poses the best. And I’m pretty sure someone created a hexxed Pickle Rick. Or it’s a photoshop that was made to look like a hexxed Pickle Rick.

Dammit why did it have to be Pickle Rick? That’s not worth re-installing Petz and getting it to run on Windows 10...

Guys is this the Dayquil? Is this really happening? I feel like I’m losing my mind for so many reasons...

Anyway, speaking about useless hexing it’s about time that our villain did something that was actually dangerous, so Zigfried decided to install a new virus that does more than turn off the lights. (it still turns off lights)

the Spreadsheet Virus!

Confounded by the spreadsheet software, it...um...it does this:

Straight up how does Excel make a volcano erupt? Is that why I have to pay for Microsoft office now?

All this because Joey made fun of Zigfried’s naturally pink hair? Which is the most normal hair on this series outside of like...Tristan?

Hey guys...Joey’s fine, right? Like how many times has Joey been on fire? And once in an iron cage next to like...a Fire Golem?

Joey’s fine.

MAN I miss Fire Golem. He had a good mug.

And then we just kinda watch chaos go across the park, chaos that includes: Too many ghosts in the haunted mansion (which honestly--you’ll get your money’s worth, sounds great!), the Ferris wheel goes kinda fast and thus might accidentally be fun, the lights turn off at some concert stage that only had 2 people on it (so it might just be motion detector lights and not even a virus), and um...literal fire and magma are going to set Joey Wheeler on fire.

Just...one of these events does not seem like the others. In fact most of these things sound like good improvements to the park and they should just hire Zigfried at this point.

Roland puts down his microphone and jogs across the stage, about a mile through the audience bleachers, and into the staff lounge, to go and bother Seto Kaiba, who is in a room that has a hi-def classical painting copy-pasted on the wall and I can’t look away from it.

I almost did a Google search on this painting but then thought better about it. There’s like...a billion classical paintings that look exactly like this, and they wouldn’t use like a Monet, they would have to do something that’s harder to catch to avoid copyright issues (because yes, even old ass paintings have copyright issues, but no one tell NFT’s which are going to be so freakin screwed and was such a bad idea, that I can’t even start).

Anyway, I have no idea who it is and it is legitimately driving me up a wall, but I’m on too much meds to do the effort of putting it in a reverse google image search.

Plus, a reverse google image search would only pull up Seto Kaiba.

So Kaiba takes us on a little flashback to his weird ass past, a weird ass past that just...doesn’t follow any of the established timelines, but I assume was shortly after adoption but before Seto got into a phase where he wore his school outfit everywhere and tried to shove his MMO off onto his Dad as a business model.

Seto is like 8 for some reason. I don’t know why, they kinda drew him younger this season anyway, like maybe they got a lot of fan mail and realized “Hey I think we made the 16 yo boy too sexy?” And they just toned Seto the hell down. That, and it’s a different animation team, and maybe they looked at Seto’s character design and were like “we don’t get paid enough to draw this well.” So...since Seto actually looks like a teen again, I guess his 12 year old self has to look like he’s in Elementary school.

Also, I only recognized this, because at some point in S3 as I was roasting Noah Kaiba’s weird fashion:

I remember distinctly roasting that little bow tie. I don’t remember when I wrote it, I think there was a version of this outfit that was in color...but I don’t remember where.

Anyway, it’s not the same jacket...but man that’s kind of awkward, ya? Like the maid who dressed Mokuba deffo got fired?

He um.

Turned the lights off a little bit.

Guys this villain is like...

...why does he think lights are scary? Like look at little Seto here. The boy is already bored. Seto duels on the edges of cliffs...he doesn’t care about the freakin dark.

We had a guy who killed everyone on the planet last season, and this season we have a little fashion gremlin standing in the corner and flicking the light switch going  “wooooo you never catch me!” and it’s like...

...I’m starting to think this guy isn’t a witch.

Like we’re at Episode 6, there’s still time for this guy to be a witch...but I really am starting to think this guy is just...straight up not a witch. It’s everything Seto wanted, a rival who isn’t a freakin magic person...and sets Joey only fake on fire instead literally on fire like last time...

and Seto is just completely unhinged by it.

Anyway, I’m off to go drink a bowl of soup and pass out. If you’re new here, this is a link to read these in chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[youllallriseintheink]

A Worthwhile Investment, chapter 3

Please enjoy this Grant x Shawn story. Yes, I split it into two short chapters. Apparently I can’t be succinct with these two... hopefully I made the right choice!

Next is Thomas x Allison!

Time went by. The studio worsened in most respects. Though its installation was nothing out of the ordinary, it felt as though the ink machine was creeping through the halls, its long pipes growing into new areas. Wherever it went, it left the scent of sickly rubber ink and stained through the walls, like a creeping, musty black mold. That alone would have brought down morale, but it was nothing compared to the financial crisis. Every department was operating on a slashed budget, and yet Joey refused to lower his demands on any of them. Whenever someone quit out of anger, there was relief- it meant that those who remained would be less likely to be laid off. The studio was a rotting body, ravaged by the parasite of the ink machine and struggling to move its massive weight now that so many of its workers were gone.

Grant was not handling it well. His department understood that it the studio’s financial problems weren’t his fault, but he didn’t blame anyone else for hating the man who had decided how much to slash their budget, or who told them, while they were already underpaid, that their paycheck would be late because there simply was no money to pay them. It was his job to prevent this from happening. But with Joey spending more and more on Bendyland and the ink machine, and refusing to downsize anything when it was really overdue to do so, it was proving impossible. It was soul-crushing.

Things weren’t easy on Shawn, either. Fewer staff for the same amount of plushes meant having to work longer and faster, and making plushes out of cheaper materials meant that there was less room for error before the cheap, delicate things they’d been reduced to selling simply fell apart. Shawn was getting screamed at more than usual nowadays.

At least they had each other. During better times, their relationship had been on and off. There were periods when one of them just couldn’t handle the other’s issues or couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, and they’d break up, only to get back together after a while. Shawn had even dated other people during their temporary breaks. Neither of them were especially serious about their relationship, so it worked for them. Now, they were together for the foreseeable future. There was little time or energy for romance anymore, but they stole the moments they could and hoped that things would eventually improve. Shawn had even moved into Grant’s house at the time. This was good for both of them- living with someone else made things easier domestically during this busy time, and it was good to come home from a difficult day at work and meet up with someone who loved you and brightened your mood.

“Ah think we should quit,” Shawn said one day over dinner. “None-a this is healthy. I’m sick of it, you certainly ain’t yourself, and anyhow, yer always saying the company won’t last another year.” Shawn saw Grant hesitate. “Well, Ah’m quitting. Join me or don’t, Ah don’t care.”

“I have a feeling that things will improve once Bendyland opens. It’s supposed to open in three months,” well, it was supposed to open over a year ago, but hopefully they could reach the new deadline, “so, let’s see where the studio is in five months. If we’re not having a much better time at work by then, let’s do it. Or you can quit sooner- please, don’t let me hold you back. But that’s when I’m doing it.”

“Five months sounds great! I’ll mark it on the calendar. To a chance at a better life!”

Grant forced a smile. “To a chance at a better life.” He honestly wished Shawn would just quit so that he didn’t feel like he was holding him back.

There were a few reasons that Grant didn’t want to quit. It wasn’t about money (he had some saved up), or fear that he couldn’t get another job (he had the experience to land another). Mostly, it was about pride. Grant might be the financial manager of a failing massive company, but still, he was the finances manager of a massive company- with a department working under him and his own secretary. This could be the highest-profile job he would ever have. He also worried that the next job would be just as miserable. He recognized, though, that he couldn’t stay in an awful work environment for those reasons, let alone keep Shawn in one. And no matter what, the studio would be dead in a few years, so he’d have to leave it eventually. And heck- maybe Shawn was right. Maybe it would be better.

---

It was while Grant was walking down one of the Joey Drew Studios hallways that it happened, though it had seemed rather insignificant at the time. A burly, blond GENT worker deliberately loosened a bolt on one of the ink pipes as he passed, spraying a cloud of ink fumes into his face.

“That’s for getting my buddy laid off,” the man grumbled as Grant coughed on the fumes.

“Hey!” another GENT worker, shouted, “pull another stunt like that, and you’ll be the one leaving for good!” The GENT worker ran over to Grant. “You alright, sir? I can pay for the dry cleaning if you want.”

“Don’t bother,” Grant snapped, “just teach your men some respect.”

Grant looked down at his thoroughly stained suit and dress shirt and weighed whether to arrive at his next meeting late or drenched. He decided on the former and turned for the exit. As he left, he heard one of the GENT men telling the other, “that’s how you get our budget cut even more!” It was rather strange to be such a frightening creature nowadays.

By evening, Grant was feeling sick- as though he had a flu coming on. He spent a few days laying around before returning to work, feeling just as badly. He couldn’t afford more time off if he didn’t want to end up entirely buried by work. Shawn was mildly concerned when it was a few weeks in and the illness didn’t seem to be going away- and that Grant was intent on working through it- but all he could do was support Grant through it and give him the space he needed. Even in the beginning, it was extremely frustrating that his boyfriend was suffering and unable to do much of anything outside of work, but to an extent it was nothing Shawn wasn’t used to- Grant had had bouts of depression nearly as bad as this. As time went on, Shawn noticed some more disturbing changes.

It was about two weeks in that the voice emerged and the hallucinations began. Grant had been in his office when he’d heard a pained scream- seemingly from right outside of it. He rushed out, expecting to see an injured person or an emergency of some sort. Instead, he found only his secretary, perfectly calm and looking at him as though he was an alien. “Do you know where that came from?” Grant asked.

“Where what came from?” Oh, that judgmental stare.

“The scream? You heard the scream, right?”

“No.”

Grant cringed and closed the door to his office.

The headaches, the brain fog, the fatigue, and now the hallucinations, a voice said. It was a voice that sounded as real as the scream had, but it wasn’t one he’d heard before. Do you want to know what’s causing it? There was a pause, as though Grant would answer and let his secretary think even worse of him. You’re losing your mind. You know what they do with crazy people, right? An image of an electric chair flashed through Grant’s mind, followed by an image of locked insane asylum doors and tools used for a lobotomy. Just carry on. Try to act normal, and don’t let anyone know about this. I’ll be here when you need me. Grant sat back down at his desk, taking a look around the room as though he could find where the voice was coming from. Finding nothing, he returned to his paperwork.

A few weeks later, Grant decided to coax some answers from the voice. It was absurd- if it was right, and it probably was, the voice came from him, and couldn’t know anything he didn’t. But he had few options. His symptoms were becoming glaringly obvious. Shawn had noticed that he was spacing out during conversations, and his department was noticing that he couldn’t keep track of time and was making mathematical errors he never would have before. Shawn had even seen him react to hallucinations a couple times, and it frightened him. Grant knew he needed to figure this out before it hurt his professional life, or hurt his relationship any further.

It was a cold winter’s night. Grant returned home after work- thankfully Shawn wasn’t home yet- and went to his room to interrogate.

“Alright,” he said, facing the wall. “Tell me what I have. If there’s a way to fix it, I’m going to.”

Shawn had been unable to sleep that night, so he heard Grant’s voice. It didn’t bother him, though, until Grant started yelling. Shawn got up and went to investigate. The house was totally dark except for the light coming from Grant’s room. Shawn creaked open the door. Grant was facing a wall, shifting his weight as though he might spring on his invisible adversary if it proved necessary.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

If it bites, curses, claws, and hisses, It’s very unwise to ask it for wishes.

Hey @r-rowancore remember that uwu fic I threw out but said I would rewrite? It may be a lot different than how I originally had it, but here it is:

There was only so much that Inkwell could do to help. Likewise, there was only so much that he wanted to do to help.

When Thomas went to him asking for his humanity back, the demon declined, stating that it was impossible for him to turn a being of ink into a being of flesh again. When he went to him asking if he could look human again, the demon again declined, stating that he didn’t have access to any pictures of how the mechanic had looked before his death, nor could he find his body, thus, he had no proper reference and could end up making him something that he was not.

And he gave a similar excuse when Tom asked for his voice back.

It smelled of bullshit if you asked him, with the demon’s exaggerated body language, annoying amount buffer words, refusal to look the wolf man in the eye while he spoke, he knew that he was lying through those daggers that he called his teeth.

He could make them human again, or at least make them look human enough again, Henry Stein was living proof of that. The Ink Demon just insisted on redrawing them as cartoons because misery loves company.

Instead of doing something like making him feel comfortable in his ink skin, the demon simply ‘updated’ his character sheet. He looked more like a wolf than a dog now, he was bigger in both size and stature, and his fur was starting to gray, especially around the muzzle.

Don’t get him wrong, he liked not having to look at Boris every time he looked in a mirror, but he hated everything about this and honestly, it was only a matter of time before he’d grow desperate enough to try to do something that even he thought was completely stupid:

Summoning a demon, a different demon from the ones he knew, one who would hopefully, help him out.

Thomas gathered the correct items for the ritual; four candles, one mask, some thick ink, and a place to call ...it. He didn’t know what would come from out of this, but if Buddy and Boris of all people could summon this thing enough times to dedicate a bathroom to doing it, then whoever or whatever he was going to call must’ve been safe enough for him to summon.

He had everything set up just the way he saw the alter in Buddy’s safe house bathroom; lit the candles, placed down the mask, and waited.

...

...This couldn’t be it, could it?

It couldn’t just be some weird decoration in a closed-off bathroom, like it or not, magic was real and so were demons! Something was supposed to happen! Did he screw it up? Lit the candles in the wrong order? Did he not do it at the right time? What was it?!

Oh right, he wasn’t in the studio anymore.

He wasn’t in a “whimsical” cartoon world made entirely by the machine and its ink, the ritual dedicated to whatever Buddy summoned might’ve worked back in the studio, but just like how a normal human being couldn’t take down a living park ride with soup cans, the alter where it was had been just as effective as spraying silly string in the shape of a star on the ground.

The cursed wolf let out an annoyed huff and started to slunk out of the basement, he would be cussing up a storm if he could, but he didn’t have a voice.

CRASH!

As he was halfway up the stairs, he heard a loud noise coming from the failed ritual. He turned around and saw something large flailing on the floor.

He cautiously descended back down and realized that he had indeed fucked up; the entity he had summoned had a humanoid upper half, the lower half of a fish, and more importantly was struggling to breathe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

The cursed mechanic tried to carry the deep sea demon bridal style as the slippery creature flailed harder and started to claw at him and bite him. No wonder the alter was set up in the bathroom, this thing needed water!

“Gad fi fynd!” Between futile gasps for breath, the creature shouted at him in a voice that he could swear was like someone taking a bunch of instruments and trying to use them to mimic human speech. “Dydw i ddim yn mynd i fod yn rhan o'ch cynlluniau, llaw dde Joey Drew!”

Tom didn’t understand a word out of the creature’s mouth aside from the name he said, nor did he think of that at this time. Desperate to keep the angry sea demon alive, when it has struggled free from his grasp, Tom seized the being by his tail and started dragging him up the stairs that way. He considered pulling him up by the hair at first but that only made his mouth closer to his hands.

The merman continued to thrash against his captor, now hissing at him like a snake and barring a mouth full of long, sharp teeth that the creature had too many of for comfort, especially now that they were stained with Tom’s ink.

But the wolf wasn’t impressed by the demon’s attempt at intimidation, he could hiss and claw all he wanted but he was not dealing with Inkwell’s refusal to help him, or having to explain to Henry why there was a dead demonic fish on the floor!

After the longest one and a half minutes of both of their lives, the fish demon was unceremoniously dumped into the bathtub, and the water was turned on. In spite of the awkward positioning, the demon squeezed himself into the end of the tub with the facet, it was an uncomfortable position, but the running water over his gills relaxed him a bit.

Both parties let out a sigh of relief as the demon waited for the tub to fill up and Tom went back into the basement to fetch a notepad, a pencil, and an english-to-welsh dictionary.

---

The latter of the three items became the hardest one to find, and by the time he did and got back to his ‘guest’ the sea demon looked like he was both anxious and bored out of his mind, his long hair pooling in the tub like a cloud and his claws still tapping away on the side of the bathtub. He was not happy to see him again per se, but at least he didn’t look like he was going to bite him again.

Helo. Tom flipped through the dictionary, found the words he was looking for, wrote them down and showed the creature. Allwch chi ddeall hyn?

The demon rolled his eyes and spoke in that voice made of instruments again, not sounding like a human being in the slightest, but it was easy for him to make out the creature’s words, almost like he listening to a song with the lyrics replaced by another instrument. Tom could already see Wally making a joke about ‘how he heard of people with musical accents before, but this one takes the cake!’.

“I can understand and speak English fluently, Thomas Conner.” He stated coldly. “There’s no need to patronize me or waste both of our time with that book.”

How do you know my name? He wrote down, And how did you know Joey?

The sea demon paused for a bit, seeming as if he was trying to predict the wolf’s reaction to his answer before saying it out loud.

“The two of you are very... infamous down there...” He folded his arms behind his back and tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “For more reasons than you think.”

Why did Buddy summon you?

The demon frowned at the question. “Who’s ‘Buddy’?” He then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, the reasons why my former summoners have called me are not to be freely discussed with other people. And before you ask how he knew to summon me, he learned from his own story.”

Tom tore out the question he had and wrote a new one:

What is your name?

“Forgive me, but I am not interested in any more small talk, and I doubt you summoned me just for the sake of friendly conversation. You called me here to help you with something, haven’t you?”

Tom huffed and reluctantly nodded. Yes; Can you make me human again?

“Can I remake you from ink and magic into a being of flesh and bone?” He tapped on his fangs and smiled in a way that made the mechanic wolf’s hackles rise. “Eventually, but yes.”

His ears perked up instantly, hastily, he started scribbling down his (hopefully) final question.

Well, what are you waiting for?!

“Materials, tools, and payment.” The demon shifted in the tub to make himself more comfortable, folding his arms behind his head as if he was reclining in a hammock, his hair fanning out behind him. “As you can see, I’m not exactly in the position to fetch the former two, and you should know that nothing comes without the latter.”

What do you need?

“Just your standard sculpting tools, some time to work on the thing, your cooperation as working with living canvases other than myself can be difficult, and...” The sea demon’s chilling toothy smile resurfaced. “...Meat.”

Tom hesitated, it took him a while to get the single word onto paper.

Meat?

“Not just any meat. Raw meat, meat that’s so freshly killed that the blood’s still warm. The amount can be debated if you were unsatisfied with your human body’s height and or its weight.” He waved off before smiling again. “And unless you want to become a sentient beast, it had better be human meat. You know the old saying, right? ‘You are what you eat’? Well, it can be rather literal.”

He looked like he was biting back laughter at Tom’s horrified expression.

“Don’t give me that look, fy pup blaidd, your hands are already stained with the blood of others, it makes no difference to the eyes of heaven and hell if you start staining your teeth as well.”

NO!

“No?” The mechanic was almost infuriated by how genuinely confused the demon sounded, as if he was surprised that he’d be disgusted by suggesting cannibalism, but luckily for him, he merely shrugged off Tom’s refusal. “Suit yourself then.”

He was just about to leave the bathroom before the siren spoke again.

“But it would be such a shame if there wasn’t anything at all I could help you out with, I hate it when my time is wasted. Tell me, would you like to speak again?”

He froze there, and looked back with an eyebrow raised.

“I see that got your attention.” The merman smugly remarked. “And as it’s a much smaller job than say, completely rebuilding you as a different being altogether, it will not only be a faster job but also cost you a lot less. Why, I won’t even need any materials or tools other than your cooperation!”

I’m interested...

“Good! Now, all you need to do is come closer.”

He approached the bathtub.

“Closer... Yes, just kneel down so we’re directly face to face...” The siren crooned while looking as welcoming as an empty grave. “...This will only hurt like Hell for a little bit.”

Tom instantly regretted his action, the siren lunged at him, his arms wrapping around him and holding his own down. With his teeth and tongue, the sea demon pried the wolf’s mouth open and purged a fluid that felt like boiling oil down his throat.

With newfound vigor forged from the sheer disgust of the situation, he pried the creature off of him and flung him at the bathroom wall, coughing and sputtering out the vile fluid before confronting the sea beast who crawled back into the bathtub.

“WHAWT THE FUCK IWS YOUW PWOBWEM?”

He slapped his hands over his snout in sheer shock and embarrassment.

“...Pardon?” The sea monster was very obviously trying very hard not to laugh, and failing. “I didn’t quite get that, Tommy~.”

Tom’s cheeks were flushed gray, his fists were clenched and steam was coming out of his ears, he didn’t want to speak ever again! His new voice sounded nothing like his old one! It sounded more like a kid’s voice if the kid inhaled helium! And don’t get him started on the new speech pattern he was cursed with. He’d use the notebook, but sadly, it looked like it was destroyed by water in the struggle.

“Why did uwu duwu thiws tuwu me uwu bastawd?”

“This was unintentional, truly. But this is so much better than what I had planned!” The demon ignored the wolf’s growling as he pinched his cheek. “Awen't uwu juwst the cutest wittwe whewp!”

“Knock iwt off, uwu sea whowe!” He swatted the hand off of his face. “I wawnt my voice tuwu be nowmaw!”

“Well, we don’t always get what we want now, do we?”

“But, but uwu pwomised uwu'd get me my voice bawck!”

“Now that’s just a bold-faced lie. I said I’d help you speak again, I never once said that I’d give you your old voice.”

“Okay, wisten hewe.” He reached into the bathtub and grabbed a hold of the tub stopper. “If uwu change my voice bawck, i... I'ww give uwu whatevew uwu wawnt. But if uwu down't, i'ww puww the pwug wight hewe awnd now!”

“Do it, coward.” The demon looked the wolf dead in the eyes. “I dare you.”

He didn’t even react when Tom yanked the stopper out and put it in the sink, well out of the siren’s reach.

“At least now you’re a man of your word.” The merman sighed as the water slowly drained from the tub. “Better late than never I suppose.”

He laid down in the still draining tub. At first, Tom thought this was an attempt to keep his gills wet for just a little bit longer, but then he saw the water turn black as it went down the drain and the musician said his last words to the wolf, not in a voice made out of instruments, but his own, human voice.

“See you again soon, Conner.”

“SAMMY WAWWENCE?!”

He called out in shock as he frantically reached into the now quickly draining tub. But no matter how desperately he dug his claws in there, he found nothing but water.

The remaining liquid went down the drain, leaving nothing but a few clear puddles on the tub’s floor and the now-verbal wolf alone with his thoughts.

“Oh my fucking god... Whawt am i going tuwu teww Awwison awnd Henwy?!”

[terresdebrume]

The Witcher - Favorite Reads Masterpost

So, the previous one was getting really super long and Tumblr refused to save the latest update three times, which I’m taking to mean I’ve reached some kind of length limit. In view of that, and with a poke to @nyliekeo​ who asked to be tagged, here’s the second volume of my Witcher fic-reading adventures!

(Pretty much all Geraskier, because I’m only a multishipper in the sense that I have many ships across many fandoms.)

Volume 1

Last updated: April 10th, 2020.

Non geraskier fic

Her Current Is Pulling You Closer - TheMarvellousMadMadamMim

Specs: 1 900 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Eist/Calanthe - Swimming, shameless flirting

Summary: After nearly three years of marriage, Eist Tuirseach realizes there are still things to learn about his wife.

Becoming Water - Orockthro

Specs: 3 456 words - Mature - Trans woman!Geralt, curses, happy ending

Summary:  When Geralt was a child his mother kissed his forehead, wove flowers in his hair, and let him dance around the campsite they shared with the other druids. He loved dancing, the way his body moved and flowed; he was like water.

And then she left him in the road, spilled water on his feet, and a faint trail of dust where she and the cart were no longer. And a man came and took Geralt and made him into something new.

“Were you short? Waifish? Did those witcher mutagens turn you into, you know, the hulking sexy man that you are? At least they gave you such male perfection, what with the stubble and the jaw and the--”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

(Or, Geralt is cursed with a female body during their travels. Only it's not so much a curse as a gift she didn't know she so desperately desired until now.)

of cockroaches and men - Potrix

Specs: 1 442 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Yennefer & Jaskier, Getting to know each other, BAMF Jaskier

Summary: As if being stuck waiting for her supplier in this sorry excuse for a town full of narrow-minded, superstitious simpletons isn't already frustrating enough, the first familiar face Yennefer spots when she walks into the grubby tavern is that of her least favourite bard.

Or, alternatively; sometimes you misjudge people, but there's nothing some badassery and booze won't fix.

all cooped up - alittlebitmaybe

Specs: 4 205 words - Mature - Polyamory, Pandemic 2020, Non-explicit sex, instigator Yen

Summary: Geralt's old university roommate, Jaskier, needs a place to ride out the pandemic. Geralt and Yennefer conveniently have a couch and Geralt, inconveniently, has a crush.

Cover it over and write it out - TheArcheologist

Specs: 3 214 words - Mature - Dyslexia, implied child abuse, Dandelion is a noble

Summary: There is something Geralt has noticed, after traveling so long with Jaskier. It is nothing major, nothing world ending or even warranting bringing up, but it is there, nonetheless, a funny little habit he can’t unsee.

“You’re better at this stuff than me, Geralt, you read it.”

Geraskier fics

pride - Besully (Briar_Elwood)

Specs: 737 words - Teen & Up - Trans Jaskier

Summary: Geraskier Week Dealer's Choice

He only manages to get the shirt untucked from the bard’s trousers when Jaskier’s smile disappears, and he scrambles backwards, holding the edges of his shirt down.

Do It Again - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 6 771 words - Explicit - Time Loop

Summary: By the twentieth time Geralt has gone through the loop, he decides to just throw himself off the cliff’s edge after Borch.

He wakes up to his twenty-first attempt.

“Fuck.”

Interlude; The End of All Things - TabbyCat33098

Specs: 3 496 words - General Audiences - Growing Old Together

Summary: Geralt realizes Jaskier is growing old and tries his best to return the rest of Jaskier's life to him. If only Jaskier would cooperate and take it.

//

How much longer will Jaskier be content with weathering the elements and contending with the uncertainty of mercenary work? How long until Jaskier realizes that in devoting himself to crafting a legacy for Geralt, he has forgotten to create a legacy of his own?

After all, he does not have a wife or children, for their nomadic lifestyle is conducive to neither. He has no home to return to between stints with Geralt, whether a sprawling mansion vaunting his wealth or a comfortable cottage replete with souvenirs from his varied exploits. How many experiences has Jaskier sacrificed because some contract or irate nobleman drew them elsewhere? How many untouched fields of snow has Jaskier never seen; how many harvests at Novigrad has he yearned to celebrate from halfway across the Continent—

“You’re staring,” Jaskier points out.

“You wanted to go to the Kovirian coast,” Geralt responds. 

a tapestry of scars - splendidlyimperfect

Specs: 7 688 words - Mature - Modern AU, Birpolar disorder, self harm, references to previous suicide attempt and car accident.

Summary: Jaskier comes into Geralt's life on a sunny afternoon in May - wide smiles and baby blue eyes; breathtaking stories and half-written song lyrics. He's mesmerizing and full of life, and Geralt can't look away. But sunshine doesn't last forever, and when Jaskier disappears, Geralt learns that beautiful things have dark and broken pieces, and even damaged people can help fix them.

Summer Mornings - The UnamazingTrashKing

Specs: 3 241 words - Mature - Fluff

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are sort of a couple. They definitely wake up together and talk about spending the rest of their lives together.

An Incomplete Happiness - BlossomsintheMist

Specs: 22 497 words - Mature - Serious injuries, injuries recovery, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension

Summary: Jaskier is traveling with Geralt when a hunt goes badly wrong and Geralt ends up injured.  Geralt soon realizes that the bard can take care of Geralt better than he'd realized, in his own way.

Hide Behind The Mound of Dead Bards - Bones (Doctorbones)

Specs: 17 296 words - Explicit - Temporary character death, Graphic depiction of violence

Summary: Jaskier is really bad at two things: shutting up and staying dead. Luckily, he can do both at the same time...for a while.

faith in transience - unconscious

Specs: 12 532 words - Explicit - Monster of the week, Service top Jaskier, attempted mind control.

Summary:  “I learn stuff about you to enrich my songs, thanks very much.”  Geralt starts.

“Like what?”

Jaskier strums a chord. “Plenty of things. You always ask the contractor if they want the head or not instead of just showing up with it, because you don’t want to shock people. You eat normal amounts of food when eating in public, instead of your usual awe-inducing giant amount. You sleep more when you’re hurt, but that’s the only way I’d ever know. You’re a bit weird about your potions and you count them a lot.” He glances up and grins. “Shall I continue?”

A handful of contracts go sideways. Recovering is easier with Jaskier there.

when midnight breaks their sleep - SummerFrost

Specs: 16 736 words - Mature - Modern setting, polyamory, polyamory negociation

Summary:   The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

"It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

he, who i love - kinneyb

Specs: 1 279 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Summary: Jaskier looked forward to these nights the most; he was playing in a rundown tavern in a small town near the coast, coins gathered at his feet, knowing that at any moment Geralt would come bursting through the door.

He spun on his heels, strumming his lute with nimble fingers, the mark of a practiced player.

Jaskier had thought he’d reached his peak when he was younger. He had been proven wrong, of course, practice truly did make perfect. He was getting more attention than ever, and only half of it probably had to do with his new songs, all depicting the Witcher’s love story with a bard of the human variety.

He never directly mentioned himself, but the people had made the connection fairly easily, anyway.

Near the Coast - IantoPace

Specs: 2 164 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Dresses

Summary: Geralt finds out some of the feminine things Jaskier likes. This is inspired by the images of Joey Batey & Madeleine Hyland in the woods wearing each other's clothes.

Shoot First, Ask Questions Later - Ladivviniatravestia

Specs: 3 427 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Defining the relationship

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier fuck, then try to define their relationship.  Too bad Geralt has no idea what he really wants and Jaskier has been hiding something.

parry, riposte - plutoandpersephone

Specs: 5 230 words - Explicit - Established relationship, competence kink, power dynamics

Summary: "How about it?"

Geralt looks at Jaskier like he’s just started to speak in some long lost, foreign tongue.

"You want to take me on in the sword ring?"

-

Jaskier challenges Geralt to a bout in the fencing ring. They both get more than they bargained for.

The Coast - NinjaSniperKitty

Specs: 1 856 words - General Audiences - Established relationship, overly protective boyfriend!Geralt

Summary: Geralt takes Jaskier up on his offer to get away and go to the coast for a while. While Geralt sees danger hiding everywhere along the coast, Jaskier hasn't been to the sea in years and only sees a good time!

Sweet, Silky, Soft, and Shiny - Girl_in_Red_Crossing

Specs: 3 251 words - Mature - Inappropriate use of candy

Summary: Just a couple of bros, sucking on sweet things... sharing silky things... lying in soft beds together... (kissing)...

The Witcher Wolf 2: Geralt’s POV - im_fairly_witty.

Specs: 15 338 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Animal transformation

Summary: It's been two weeks since Geralt drove Jaskier away from him on that mountain top and Geralt's been doing his best not to think about it by accepting every contract he comes across. But when a job goes badly he find himself cursed into the form of an injured wolf and is then saved by none other than Jaskier himself, who has no idea that the animal he's taken under his wing is his own witcher. Geralt must now try to alert Jaskier to his real situation and adjust to his new life traveling with the bard, learning several hard but very much needed lessons along the way.

Shadowplay - sospes

Specs: 26 539 words - Mature - BAMF!Jaskier, Espionnage

Summary: Geralt returns to Oxenfurt on a bright May morning to find flowers laid outside Jaskier's rooms and a fresh grave in the cemetery.

Except, as Geralt is about to learn, in Jaskier's world things are never quite what they seem.

An Old Man’s Tale - NotebooksandLaptops

Specs: 1 448 words - General Audiences - External POV, Old age

Summary: At the edge of the village, in a house surrounded by wild-flowers and weeds - re-built from its former crumbling foundations – there lived the Old Man. He’d earnt the rights for the capital O, capital M off of the rest of the villagers barely a week after he’d moved into their humble world. For he had not grown up here, like everyone else did. Yet he settled and settled as if he had always been there. He wandered the cliffsides, the beaches, the streets. He strung shells together and gifted them to the ladies of the village with a wink that betrayed the charming young man he once must have been. He bought the little ceramic pots Alicja sold on the market, and he filled them with weeds as if the weeds were flowers worth showcasing. And – most importantly – he sang.

-///-

Or, Jaskier settles in a costal village towards the end of his life.

For The Joy Of It - vvitchering (Witchering)

Specs: 848 words - Teen & Up Audiences - self esteem issues, body image

Summary: After spending years on The Path together, Jaskier and Geralt finally settle down. Jaskier notices one day that his new sedentary lifestyle has changed him in ways he fears Geralt won't accept.

The Silence Between Heartbeats - anarchycox

Specs: 7 969 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Jskier knows Geralt better than anyone

Summary: Geralt faced off with a sorceress, only instead of her magic killing him, it stole his voice. But this should be an easy fix, he knew many women who could heal this. But that would mean anyone noticing something wrong. He knew he was quiet, but seriously, did no one wonder why he wasn't saying a single thing? Months he traveled silent, no one noticing and it was driving him mad.

Until he runs into Jaskier, who notices immediately that something is wrong.Because of course it is Jaskier.

Who else in the end would it be, who properly saw the White Wolf?

tailored - jeannie_tangerine

Specs: 4 874 words - Explicit - Geralt has a kink and Jaskier is absolutely into it.

Summary: in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt has a kink and is more than glad to indulge it.

oh darling please be mine - kickassfu

Specs: 749 words - General Audiences - Introspective, fluff

Summary: Geralt’s head turns to him just as he’s jumping into his arms. Obviously, he catches Jaskier, in his very strong, very big arms. Still probably processing what’s happening, Geralt’s body is tense, unmoving. Jaskier doesn’t care.

New Monsters Stories - Kathkin

Specs: 20 209 words - Explicit - Urban fantasy, mutual pining

Summary:  “So do you have a name?”

“Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

Professor Pankratz - martistarfighter

Specs: 1 147 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Sumary:  “Come teach my class with me tomorrow.” He whispers in the witcher’s ear. He’s sporting a neatly trimmed beard these days, and it tickles Geralt’s neck in the most tempting way.

Geralt chuckles dryly, but the lack of an immediate quip tells him that Jaskier is serious. It’s a little scary how often they can read their minds by now.

“Don’t think so. You’re the teacher, Jask. I’ve got nothing to tell them.”

“But you’re the reason I’m still alive and teaching in the first place. Besides, you can just sit there, look pretty and answer some questions. My students have heard a lot about you, they’ll adore you.”

As someone pointed out, there's too much 'witcher watching out for his idiot' and not enough 'the witcher is a himbo who loves his college educated bard husband, who is qualified to teach' content out there. So I'm fixing it with a self-indulgent ficlet!

and i plan to be forgotten when i’m gone (yes, i’ll be leaving in the fall) - Stockholm_Syndrome

Specs: 18 083 words - Mature - Discussion of assisted suicide, discussion of suicide, depression, curse, no MCD

Summary: “That was more emotional than I expected.” He finally said “I didn’t think I’d have time to share this with you, and I.” Jaskier interrupted himself, as if unsure if he should continue. “I suppose I didn’t think it would upset you so.”

“Jaskier” Geralt growled, not able to express how ludicrous that idea was.

“Yes, I suppose I was wrong there.” Jaskier replied with a helpless shrug.

---- Or, Jaskier is cursed to turn into a monster. He doesn't think this is important information to mention.

Chopsticks - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 12 175 words - Explicit - Piano teacher!Jaskier, friends to lovers, modern setting

Summary: “Yennefer sent me a check for eight lessons for you,” Jaskier said the following weekend, wearing a beige button-down with--

“Does your shirt have owls on it?” Geralt asked, caught somewhere between amusement and horror.

Jaskier looked down and tugged on the front of his shirt as if he had to remind himself what was on it. He beamed at Geralt. “Yeah! Do you like it?”

“Not particularly.”

The smile swiftly disappeared.

“It’s not terrible,” he amended, stepping back to let Jaskier inside the apartment. Then Jaskier’s initial words sank in. “Wait. Yen did what?”

Hanging up on Yennefer was always a mistake.

what’s in a (pet) name? - janie_tangerine

Specs: 1 415 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, pet names

Summary:  "So," he clears his throat one evening, having just rinsed Geralt's now clean, soft white hair, and damn how he wishes the man would just take care of it somewhat decently, "I was wondering."

"What?" Geralt says after he doesn't go on for a bit. It didn't sound particularly annoyed. Right on.

"This is a very broad question, but I was just curious, no need to answer if you don't want to -" Jaskier starts, having learned that giving the man a way out is always a good bet.

"Just get on with it, won't you?"

Jaskier clears his throat, leans down, puts his elbows on the rim of the tub. "How do you feel about pet names?"

Or: in which Jaskier has a question for Geralt. It doesn't get answered the way he had assumed.

As Long As You Were Mine For A Little While - whisperedstories

Specs: 12 815 words - Explicit - Friends with benefits, mutual pining

Summary: It starts with Jaskier offering a helping hand when Geralt needs to let off some steam. The thing is, Jaskier likes taking care of Geralt—however he can—and Geralt lets him, so he just keeps doing it.

And as long as they never talk about how he's in love with Geralt, they're both happy with the arrangement, right? Right.

Of Debt and Debtors - sp_oops

Specs: 5 136 words - Explicit - Semi-public sex

Summary: Two bros, chillin' in a ta-vern, five feet apart ‘cause they—fuck, they really missed each other, not that Geralt will ever admit it—and anyway, in a minute here, they're gonna have to get closer than they ever thought possible. (Or, sometime after Episode 6, they meet again, Jaskier’s in trouble again, and Geralt saves them. Again.)

This One I Shall Choose - DorkMagician

Specs: 3 751 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Quiet pining, the exact moment Geralt falls in love

Summary: Geralt falls in the river fishing for a djinn and winds up soaked. Jaskier sees the opportunity to do as his mother told him a long time ago and takes the first step when he offers Geralt his handkerchief.

Skin Deep - Sospes

Specs: 8 935 words- Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, getting together, non consensual tattooing, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced childhood abuse

Summary: “What’s that?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier blinks. “It’s a tattoo,” he says. “Have you never seen a tattoo before, Geralt?”

Geralt fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I know it’s a tattoo,” he says. “What’s it a tattoo of?”

They say there are 5 ways to show your love (and I don’t know any of them) - Mayathelittlebee

Specs: 5 989 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, humor

Summary: May be if Geralt stopped being so dramatic for a moment he'd finally realize that loving Jaskier is not as hard as he thinks.

I don’t mind if I’m with you - janie_tangerine

Specs: 11 152 words - Explicit - In which Jaskier has to quelle his murder instincts concerning how much Geralt’s life sucks

Summary: or: five times plus one in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt is missing on good life experiences and promptly sees to fix it.

Fill Me Up - Mysticmajestic

Specs: 402 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Romance

Summary: Geralt only knows how to give, and give, until he's empty. What is he to do with Jaskier, who only wants to give back to him?

Little Things - QueenForADay

Specs: 3 315 words - General Audiences - Domestic fluff, Ciri ships it

Summary: In the first few months of knowing the Witcher, he experienced first-hand how shut-off Geralt could be with the world around him and those within it.

At some point, and he can’t pinpoint where, that shroud started to slip away. He saw how much Geralt could, and does, actually care. It’s as fierce as the way he fights.

They spend a great deal of time watching each other; when they finally fell into a bed together, they spent most of their nights learning what the other liked, mapping the plains of skin and muscle underneath the other.

But it’s the other things, the little things, that Jaskier thinks about the most.

O, Empathy - almostnectarine

Specs: 32 624 words - Mature - Body swap, friends to lovers, questfic

Summary: “How did you manage,” asked Geralt, with infinite patience and only a desire to know the facts, and not at all a little meanhearted glee, “to insult a sorcerer while his tongue was down your throat?”

“Don’t make me recount the entire sordid affair, Geralt,” said Jaskier, with a surprising note of desperation breaking through his gruff monotone. “I’m already having a rather shit day and all I’ve done so far is wake up.”

“In my body,” said Geralt.

“Yes,” said Jaskier, with the insolent cadence that was unmistakably Jaskier’s, but in Geralt’s voice, emerging from Geralt’s face and frame.

“And I’ve got yours,” said Geralt, from Jaskier’s.

and for that love to be with men - sebviathan

Specs: 6 734 words -Mature - Emotional constipation, self discovery, self acceptance, geralt is a whole ass gay man who doesn’t know what being gay is

Summary: Something's not right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it—living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of black glass. If I fell through the floor I would keep falling.

The enormity of Geralt's desire disgusts him.

at last, at last, at last, oh I thought you’d never ask - elegantwings

Specs: 15 040 words - Explicit - Arranged marriage, slow burn, trans!Jaskier, in this house we love Yennefer of Vengerberg

Summary: Geralt is given firm instructions from Vesemir: He is to get married to a Redanian noblewoman in the hopes of improving relations between witchers and the rest of the world. Once the ceremony is over, he plans to drop his new spouse off at their new home and carry on with his life as he always has. Little does he know, his future wife is not a woman, and not so easily left behind. He's not really sure he'd like to get rid of Jaskier, either. Over the next several years, they learn to navigate their new relationship, first while Jaskier completes his degree, and then when Jaskier insists on accompanying him on the road. And no matter what anyone else has to say about it, Geralt is absolutely not in love with his husband.

it’s what my heart just yearns to say - chasing_the_sterek

Specs: 1 071 words - Teen & Up - Slice of life, Jaskier: what if I found a way to make Geralt admit when he needs things

Summary: "If you could have one blessing," Jaskier says, eyes lit green by the fire between them, "What would it be?"

Geralt looks at him. The whetstone is smooth and friction-warm in his palm, edges rounded from use. It's been with him for a long time: almost four years.

Jaskier has been with him for even longer, but he's never done this. Geralt squints at him, but only thing different to this morning is the yellow firelight changing the colour his eyes appear.

"What," he says.

not a goodbye, a thank you - Potrix

Specs: 2 915 words - Mature - Graphic depiction of illness, near death experience, talk about death, found family

Summary: Somewhere further in the courtyard, Lambert yells out a colourful curse while Ciri cackles maniacally. Eskel is taunting the former through his laughter, and Vesemir’s voice joins in with barked commands and corrections once the clang of steel against steel continues. Somewhere above them, on one of the balconies overlooking the yard, Geralt can hear the scratch of quill against parchment as Yennefer works on her correspondence, interrupted every now and again by the tapping of nails against an inkpot.

He realises what’s wrong an instant before everyone else grows suddenly, eerily still; Jaskier is quiet.

After Summers of Fasting (I Feel Hunger At Last) - Artemis_Unbound

Specs: 3 793 words - Teen & Up Audiences - A six pack you can see is not a good thing, Jaskier tricks Geralt into Not Being Starving anymore, Love confessions

Summary: Defined six-pack abs are a sign that someone has been starving and dehydrating themselves, not a sign of incredible strength. It's just not healthy.

Jaskier sees Geralt shirtless for the first time, sees all that defined musculature, and is Horrified. He's slept with enough warriors and soldiers to know what that means. And he decides, this stops now.

Tunes Without Words - foxy_mulder

Specs: 22 021 words - Mature - Self-esteem issues, past abuse, miscommunications, misunderstandings

Summary: The plan is this:

He will note all the things that annoy Geralt, and he will stop doing them, and then Geralt will want him around. It will work.

It has to work, because Jaskier cannot be left behind.

The Path Not Taken - sospes

Specs: 40 149 words - Mature - Extraordinarily bad misunderstanding, Idiots in love, Explicit sexual content

Summary: Jaskier comes across an injured witcher in a backwoods town, months after the events of the dragon hunt. It all just sort of escalates from there.

.

[inkdemonapologist]

Do you ever think about how Nathan Arch is canonically Joey’s sugar daddy?

YALL HAVE A WILD DEFINITION OF “CANONICALLY” SOMETIMES

What we know (assuming there's no exciting new nathan lore im gonna discover when i read FtB, in which case don't tell me lmao), canonically, is that Nathan gave Joey a lot of advice about starting his company, some more advice while JDS was running and looked over the land for the Bendyland park with him, and that when things got real bad for JDS, Joey wrote to Nathan, hemming and hawing about how he normally definitely wouldn’t do this, to ask for a specific amount of money to help with the bills. We also can assume he’s a little older than Joey, since they were in the military together when Joey was too young to be in the military. 

What is not hard AT ALL to read between the lines is that Nathan had a big crush on Joey Drew, source: every footnote in the Illusion of Living, several audiologs in BatDR. 

What is certainly possible to believe is that Joey would never mention if Nathan was giving him consistent financial support, and that Nathan would similarly gloss over it, because he likes the image of Joey as a clever self-made man who deserves his success and wants to preserve Joey’s good name. 

We actually don’t know if Nathan gave Joey any money, we just know that Joey asked for it, and that everything we know about Nathan suggests he would’ve been happy to help (and everything we know about Joey suggests he would’ve downplayed how much he really needed and thus the studio going under anyway does not mean Nathan ignored the request.) So it’s quite reasonable to suspect he did, but even THAT isn’t canon confirmed.

And, like, not to be That Guy except that this is my blog and I can That Guy to my heart’s content — giving someone money does not make you a sugar daddy. SUGAR DADDY IS A TRANSACTIONAL RELATIONSHIP and gay relations between Joey Drew and Nathan Arch are the realm of headcanon. LIKE, A HEADCANON THAT CAN BE VERY STRONGLY SUPPORTED AND ARGUED FOR, if someone told me "wow joey and nathan DEFINITELY had something going on" I would laugh and agree, but it's an interpretation nonetheless. You could make an equally strong argument that Nathan is closer to what the kids call a simp, praising Joey’s brilliance and helping him with his problems and eagerly paying his bills because of a huge unrequited crush that Joey took advantage of but never returned. There's several ways to read it. 

But... I do think a lot about how these two stayed in contact, stayed friends, even though Joey always seemed to be playing a role around Nathan, never quite felt comfortable explaining the things he felt most passionately about. He tells him about Bendyland, but clams up when Nathan doesn’t understand why it matters so much to him. It doesn’t seem like Joey ever tells him about Audrey; even though Nathan can hear the joy in his voice and notes that his old friend sounds more like himself than he has in a long time, he never knows why. Nathan is so so so taken with Joey, but there’s something about Nathan that Joey doesn’t trust. 

Interesting that Joey never does brag about Nathan investing in him as proof of his own business acumen, though he doesn’t mind bragging about the investment of a grief-stricken mother who only regarded him as a polite young man. What’s threatening, then, about the idea of Nathan supporting him? It’s interesting the way Nathan is fascinated with every part of him and Joey always holds himself at arm’s length. Interesting how Joey enjoys his company, but gets uncomfortable and changes the subject whenever Nathan regards him, positively, as someone who pulled himself up to success out of nothing. Interesting to compare Nathan to Kyle, the other rich friend of Joey's who gets called a “sugar daddy” by the fandom (despite being younger than Joey), how Joey is uncomfortable when Kyle prods him about his status and tries to take credit for him, and then the way Nathan doesn’t do this but Joey still shies away whenever he hits the edges of those topics. ...It’s almost more interesting if Joey was trying his absolute hardest to avoid Nathan funding him, despite the fact that Nathan was clearly taken with him and probably would have been happy to help. What strings were attached to Kyle that Joey was afraid to find in Nathan?

[william-ba]

The Ink Demonth Day 31: Free Day...

I watched as the Lost One began his third phase in the fight with Bendy, who had mutated into Beast Bendy. I still couldn’t believe it.

I knew the author was going to cut short a few parts of the original plan, but I didn't expect him to not have a story for Hope. Something must have happened that made him quickly change his mind. He also didn’t post it on the same day.

Oh well, whatever it is, he seems intent on closing this disaster of a Lost One story. He really needs to stop trying to create plots where they aren't needed.

When Bendy disintegrated and the room was filled with a bright, white light, I knew it was finally time for me to enter the story. I let out a sigh as I got out of my seat and approached a door sitting in the void I call my base.

I had only one thought before entering: This man will not leave my grasp without suffering.

The Lost One awoke to a room full of colors. He let out a sigh of relief. He did it. He escaped Bendy’s domain.

Wait... where was he?

He looked behind him. There was a door and a shelf to the right of it with a gear, a Bendy doll, a book, an ink jar, a record, and a wrench sitting on it. Didn’t answer his question too well, but it did make him understand somewhat of the owner’s backstory. He looked forward toward the entrance of the kitchen. A bulletin board was located to the left of the doorway.

He got up and slowly approached it. The bulletin board contained letters from Wally Franks and Allison Connor. He read them and not only got the answer to his question, but also a quick catch up from his former Joey Drew Studios friends. Wally had moved to Florida with his family and started a Handyman business, and Allison had married Thomas Connor and got a new job at Archgate Films.

Nathan approached him once and offered him a job at that studio. The Lost One declined it, thinking his job as part of the Animation Department was still too good to just quit. Now, he regrets his decision.

Other than them, however, unpaid electric bills, a notice of bankruptcy, a photograph, and Bendyland concept art made it clear that the owner of the apartment he was exploring was Joey Drew.

He turned around an noticed a drawing desk littered with storyboard panels and a few reference sketches to the right of the kitchen doorway.

He approached them, but stopped when he heard whistling.

That wasn’t Joey’s voice.

The Lost One went into the kitchen. He found someone standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes and whistling a song he didn’t recognize. Sunlight poured into the room and hid some of the man’s features, but the Lost One could make out his clothing. A red suit with dark brown or black pants.

“I know, I know, you have questions,” the man acknowledged. His voice was croaky, like a frog’s. “I have a question of my own: ‘Who are you, Henry?’ Of course, this makes no sense considering you aren’t Henry, but, hey, we’re in the finale, might as well ask.”

The Lost One didn't respond to the man standing in his former boss’s kitchen, so he continued.

“In the end, I’ve learn a lot about your world. You did so much in a long amount of time you had between abandoning your fellow employees... but for me... it was only a month. And now we’re together. I let this continue long enough.”

The man turned around and leaned on the bar stand that separated the two. The man’s features became more clear. He had black, wavy hair that ended with magenta tips. He had an eyepatch over his left eye. His other eye was snake like, and his iris was blue.

“The truth is, you were always destined to fail, friend... fail at saving everyone else. You have one chance to save yourself. Henry, come visit the old workshop.” the man directed his hand toward the door that stood to the right of a radiator. “There’s something I want to show you.”

There was a pause. Then, the Lost One spoke. “I’m sorry, but what was that? Why’d you keep calling me Henry? That’s Joey’s old friend. Also, who are yo--”

The Lost One was interrupted by a slap in the face that sent him flying through the door in Joey’s apartment and into the entrance of a long corridor that appeared to be back in the workshop. The man laughed as he retracted a tentacle that had appeared from seemingly nowhere. His laugh sent chills down the Lost One’s spine.

“Not important, you'll probably learn later that my name is Dominic!” Dominic shouted from the kitchen. “Make it to the room at the end and you’ll get your freedom! And for your grand finale, I’ve brought all your friends are back! Better hurry!”

When the Lost One saw a Searcher crawl out of one of the rooms, he quickly bolted down the corridor. When he ran past the one, he discovered many more were behind it, and they all began going after him for as long as they desired, which was ultimately only a few feet.

A tentacle popped out of the walls and shattered a stack of crates, freeing the Butcher Gang. They instantly began their chase. However, they weren’t like Searchers. They don’t stop their pursuit unless someone were to distract them, attack them, or if you hide from them. And none of those were options this time. He just had to keep running.

The Projectionist’s screech echoed through the hall, but he was nowhere to be seen. That’s when a crate was thrown through a hall and shattered, spilling ink hearts all over the floor. The Lost One sprinted past the now open door and the Projectionist ran after.

One final scream echoed through the long pathway. Alice appeared from a corner and grabbed the Lost One. In response, he grabbed her arm and flipped her over, then continued his escape. He looked back to see five people chasing him.

That number was reduced to one when Beast Bendy broke through a wall and knocked them all out. The Lost One began to panic. He sprinted down as fast as he could. It was only a short distance remaining, but he didn’t know how fast Beast Bendy would run in order to get to him. He discovered quickly that, despite being many feet apart originally, the Ink Demon was now half way towards him.

Still, he reached the door anyway and slammed it shut. His breathing was fast, but once he got it down to a normal rate, he sat down and laughed. He finally did it.

Dominic’s face popped up on a television screen in the small room. “Well, you did it. I guess I have to live up on my part of the deal.” He looked down in disappointment and began talking to himself. The Lost One looked in the middle of the room and saw a hatch. He walked over and opened it.

Sammy’s hand grabbed the Lost One’s neck. He ascended from the hatch with an axe.

“You. YOU. YOU JUST HAD TO GO AROUND AND RUIN ALL OUR PLANS! DO YOU KNOW HOW UPSET HE IS?! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT’S GOING TO BE TO PLEASE HIM AGAIN?! IT’S GOING TO TAKE FOREVER!”

Sammy stopped and seemed to be thinking. No. He was being told something.

“Well, it looks like it’s my lucky day. The Lord says he’ll reduce the amount of work I’ll need to do if I give him some sacrifices. And it looks like I’ll get double if you’re the first. Come now, sheep. It’s time for bed.”

Sammy descended into the hatch, and despite all his screaming and wiggling, the Lost One was brought down in too.

***

Dominic watched the event happen through the screen. He quickly dropped the facade and ran towards to portal.

Sammy wasn’t part of his plan. Te wasn’t even supposed to be in the exit portal. All that was supposed to happen was that he’d make it look like Joey’s apartment and Joey Drew Studios, and disguise his tentacles as Bendy monsters.

He looked down at the portal. The only hint of what could possibly be on the other end was a weapon left behind by Sammy. However, it was no longer an axe. Now, in it’s place, was a scythe.

“Damn it. That bastard stole my kill!”

***

Bandit walked on stage and the spotlight beamed down on him. The show was starting. The audience once again wore red hoods and mask as they watched Bandit perform. All but one. This one looked around in confusion. Like he didn’t know where he was.

It interested Bandit for a while, but he never showed it and eventually dropped it. He couldn’t get distracted. The show must go on.

[subukunojess]

Banjo Blues

A Secret Satan Gift for @lt-lemonade

I am sorry this is so late, but a lot of personal issues were going on at the time along with my studies and I wanted to write a good drabble for you! They requested either a drawing or a fanfiction with several prompts and I picked:

“Wally X Sammy- Sammy singing him a song on his banjo”

I decided to get into practice with my BATIM fanfiction by using my Wally and Sammy from my Ink Gluttony AU. Might redesign or add more detail on them on a later date. It’s a nice ship and I tried to convey it as much as possible while also keeping into their character. Also wanted to try out a few concepts as well. I hope you like it and if you’d like more or if you want me to change anything feel free to ask!

By the way, the song that Sammy sings to Wally, I borrowed the melody from a cut Little Shop of Horrors song because it was the only song I could think of that’ll fit Wally’s bounce. It’s on YouTube and if you’d like a link, I’ll provide it!

Without further ado, here is the drabble under the cut! I hope you enjoy.

For Samuel Lawrence, Joey Drew Studios was chaotic and mundane at the same time. Work was much more simple in the early years. Back then, it was a small studio with only a few employees in charge of their own section. Henry drew the cartoons, Joan would help Henry with drawing and writing up ideas, Norman was in charge of projectors, Sammy himself was in charge of music, Wally would clean up the studio, random people would show up to help out here in there including some repair man named Tom, and then Joey Drew would oversee them all while sticking his nose on everything he could.

But now? Now things were much bigger. More complex. It wasn't until recently that Sammy found out he was more content with the old set-up even though he would have said otherwise in the past. He'd stay in his designated room, writing and playing his music for the studio until a bigger musical opportunity showed up for him. Needless to say, it didn't. When he got his own spacious department along with an entire orchestra at his command, Sammy was thrilled that Drew saw his full potential. What he didn't count on was the increased work load. Or the incompetent workers. Or the excessive amount of questionable ink. Or a little ink demon running around. Or a number of other things that made the man pull his brown hair out.

It was just another night at the studio in New York City. Some of the employees stayed overtime to make ends meet. By some, it meant a few animators, writers, and Sammy especially. Sammy walked out of his office, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief to clean some of the ink away. He sighed. The amount of ink Joey provided seemed to increase every year and it was getting everywhere from toilets to instruments to his very office. He'd complain out loud another time. For now, Lawrence wanted to check on his instruments to inspect the day's damages. Sluggish, he trudged down the hallway before turning to what he dubbed the orchestra room, only to stop and stare as he found someone sitting by a piano.

It was a familiar red-haired man with overalls and a light brown cap on, his chestnut, blank eyes staring at the keys below. His shoulders were leaning against his lap as he slowly pressed against one of the keys with a finger, letting out a soft sigh.

Out of all the fools Sammy had ever met in the studio, none of them took the cake like Wally Franks did. Figuratively and literally. Whether it'd be losing his keys, slipping on ink down the hallways, or attempting to eat Sammy's chocolate cake, the young man was quite the cheerful handful. At least for Sammy. To see the sole janitor in such a somber state unnerved him, however.

"Wally, what are you doing? Are you feeling well?" Sammy asked, his voice croaked with at least some concern. Instead of jumping in reaction like Wally would normally do whenever someone was talking to him, the man turned his head to glance at the music director standing behind him. Sammy could see slight bags under his eyes as if he had aged along with the studio.

"Nothin' much, Sammy. I'm just missin' ol' Bubba, that's all." He shrugged, going back to plunking the piano keys. "Jay and Tom says he's gonna be sick for a while. I know he needs ta get betta, but things are gettin' tough around here. Ya know what I'm saying?"

Sammy sat down on the bench next to Wally with a nod. "Ah, yes. That's what you call Bendy. I haven't seen him as of late. And things are always tough here, both in and out of the studio."

"Yeah, but not like this! No one's smiling anymore. All everyone does is rush off and complain. I know some of it's hard work, but we're makin' cartoons for people for cryin' out loud! We're supposed ta be smilin' and laughin'!" Wally threw his arms up in the air, before dropping them to his side. "I dunno... wheneva' I'm with Bubba, we always cheer each otha up. Maybe I'm startin' ta lose hope..."

As Sammy listened in, he felt something tug at his chest. Guilt? Sympathy? Whatever it was, he knew that he didn't like seeing Wally in this state. Plus, Sammy wasn't much of a people or feeling person. He communicated well with music. And it was then that an idea popped up in his head. Telling the other to wait a moment, Sammy got up and went across the room to retrieve his banjo, his favorite, personal instrument. He dragged a stool as well to sit in front of Wally, placing his banjo in position and tuning it. Once it was tuned, Sammy's fingers pressed against the strings when he froze.

What kind of song should he play?

One of Sammy's talents was analyzing a person for a period of time and figuring out what kind of song would they be. What type of instrument and tempo. At the moment, however, he didn't know what type of song to play. He knew this piece called for something to say, but he didn't know what.

He wasn't much for lyrics like Jack Fain, but it was worth a shot to improvise. Sammy wasn't much for prayers either, but there was a first time for everything.

Please, if there is a Lord up there, help me with the right words to say, Sammy prayed in his mind as he closed his eyes. His fingers rested on top of the strings as he slowed his breathing. Suddenly, he felt a presence in the back of his mind that had seeped in from nowhere. It was warm and familiar. He started strumming on his banjo and opened his eyes, his emerald eye changed into a blazing orange while the blue one remained intact.

"When it's time to sweep up the inkwells, who is Bendy's pal?" Sammy sang as he strummed the strings, taking a pause as he looked to Wally, seeing if he would respond. He was met with a couple of blinks in the eyes.

Sammy continued playing, "When it's time to pick up the damn keys, who is there to raise our morale?"

As the music director's song became much more vibrant, Wally's eyes widened as he listened to the words and music. It was bouncy. It was unpredictable. It was... about him? The janitor must have died because Sammy would never make up a song for anyone, especially him. Eager to listen more, Wally sat up in attention.

"In this place of demons and big smiles, here's who you give thanks." Sammy was getting the hang of it now, a smile growing on his face as he leaned forward to Wally with eyes that seemed to glow with life. "Not Alice Angel and Boris, too. Not Tom or Norman or Joey Drew. You tip your hat to the bumbling wonder of Wally Franks!"

He paused for a good minute, then added, "And then Bendy, Alice, and Boris pop up and sing 'Wally, Wally, Wally Franks'!" Sammy tried to imitate Bendy's voice as best he could, tilting his head from side to side as he ended the song sticking his tongue out.

At that, Wally burst into rolling laughter and fell off of the bench, holding his own sides as his freckled cheeks turned cherry red. Sammy blushed as well, averting his gaze to the side as his orange eye faded back to green. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"Oh gee, that was great! Ya sound almost like Bubba! Nice voice for 'im!" Wally continued to laugh until his sides hurt, then he gradually breathed and sat up. "How did ya come up with them words anyways?"

"I don't know." Sammy shrugged with honesty as he lifted his banjo a bit in thought. "It just came to me like that." The janitor slowly stood up and wiped a tear away from his eye before placing a hand on Sammy's shoulder.

"Well, whateva' it is, I like it! You should smile more, Sammy. It suits ya!" He patted his shoulder, then tipped his own hat. "Thanks for the song. Ya made me feel betta. I gotta go make sure there ain't too much spills around. I'm outta here!" Wally then left with a wave in his hand and a smile on his face.

Sammy Lawrence watched him leave the room with a dumbfounded stare, his cheeks still blushing in awe. Wally really was a wonder. He placed his banjo down, then wiped his face to inspect the ink. To his shock, the stains in the palm of his hand were glowing a dull orange. He felt the familiar presence sitting in his mind as if looking in. The music director blinked and glanced up at the ceiling.

"... Bendy?"

[brittle-bone-gabe]

Erase Me: Chapter One- Moving Pictures

Introduction, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven

Summary: Welcome to the never ending, never changing loop. The loop can’t break, it’s always been the same. Henry never realized he was trapped, but coming back to the animation studio for the “first time” just to see a small, human-like child makes Henry realize that dreams really do come to life.

Read on other platforms: AO3, FFN, Wattpad

The studio was oddly silent, Henry was used to coming into the studio for work and would instantly be greeted with talking or laughing from Joey Drew or the other employees that worked for him. Not this time… the studio was dimly lit with little sound, mainly just ambient noises such as a clock ticking somewhere in the studio and the familiar sound of a projector. Henry would be lying if he said this place wasn’t a tad bit creepy… Well, he was here now, the trip might as well be worth it considering the fact he paid for a flight and a hotel room to see what Joey wanted. Now he just had to find Joey.

When taking his first step into the studio, a pipe that was on the ceiling busted open, pouring ink all over the floor below, almost spilling over Henry. That would not have been good, if possible, Henry would like to not be covered in ink by the time he leaves the studio to go back to the hotel. As Henry began walking into the studio, he couldn’t help but notice that the posters of Bendy and his friends that were plastered on the wall were still in great condition. If Henry didn’t know any better, he would say that those could be worth some serious money for being originals and unreleased as merchandise. In the left corner of the room, Henry noticed that a projector was left on, but nothing was playing over it. Huh… did that mean Joey got here before he did? Was Joey losing it? Normally he never left projectors on, something about not wanting to waste money buying new ones if one were to break.

               Strange… but okay, Henry thought to himself as he walked up to the projector, flipping the switch to off like he used to do whenever any of the employees accidentally left the equipment on.

               It was odd to think that this booming animation studio was now left abandoned for four-years. Henry had no idea why in the hell they would’ve shut down, but he could only assume it some sort of violations of sorts. Joey Drew Studios was making so much money, producing so much media that children all over the country enjoyed. Why just suddenly shut down? Maybe that’s what Joey wanted to talk to him about?

               Henry jumped a bit when he turned to see a Bendy cutout that was propped up against the wall next to where the projector was pointing to. Guess he didn’t see it while being blinded by the bright light of the projector. Jesus… Henry remembered when they first rolled those cutouts out, everyone used to scare each other by moving them and poking them out of nowhere in the hallways. It was good fun, until it was taken too far, and Joey demanded that everyone stop messing with the cutouts unless they were prepared to take the broken ones out of their paychecks. Just like he did back then, Henry still found the cutouts to be slightly unsettling. The constantly smiling Bendy with eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went was just highly unnerving. Surely they were enough to haunt your dreams if you were around them enough. Aright, enough goofing around, Henry needed to find Joey and figure out why he was called here for.

               Turning back around, Henry started walking back down the room, turning right at a familiar hallway.

               “Hey, here’s my old desk. I’ve wasted so much time in this chair,” Henry reminisced, running his hand around the back of the unmoved, dusty wooden chair. The flickering light above said desk made the Bendy cutout creepier than it already was; when was that put there?

               Henry could help himself when he stopped to think about more of the olden days working here just sitting at his desk alone. While animating Henry went into “the zone,” as his coworkers would call it. It seemed as though nothing could break away his concentration while he had an important task to do. One day, Joey had given him the task to draw up the friend that he had described to Henry as a “tall anthropomorphic wolf.” Henry loved those type of tasks, he was allowed to use as much creative freedom as he so desired as long as it fit within the keywords that Joey had given him. While he was hard at work, the lead projectionist, Norman Polk, and Wally Franks, who was a janitor at the time, decided to see how badly they could scare him. It wasn’t anything major, in fact, it was rather stupid, or at least that’s what Samuel Lawrence, the song and music director, had thought when he came out of his “dungeon” for a rare moment to get some feedback from the animation studio. He had watched while sipping his coffee as the two workers gathered all the Bendy cutouts they could find, placing them around Henry’s work area until they couldn’t fit anymore. The entire time Henry had no idea what they were doing or that he was the victim of a prank. The prank in itself wasn’t scary, but when Henry turned around to answer to whoever was calling his name after just getting out of his major concentration zone, well, it was like seeing an actual demon. Norman and Wally lost it, laughing at the startled man while Sammy just shook his head as he walked away, trying to hide his smile behind his coffee mug.

               Pulling himself out of his memories, Henry noticed something that was highly unusual sitting on his desk. There was a little, poorly drawn Bendy doodle that he’s never seen before. Why would that be there? Henry picked it up, studying the art to see if he could possibly trace it back to someone else who did animation in the studio originally before he left. He didn’t, but even if he could, none of them would produce something so… childish. The only explanation for this that Henry could come up with was that someone who wasn’t in the animation department tried to create something, knowing that Joey wouldn’t like it due to the fact it made Bendy look less than perfect, or someone from the department had brought their kid into work. The latter seemed to be too unrealistic, as Joey didn’t allow anyone besides employees or official state workers to come into the studio. Huh… this was strange… Henry put the paper back where it belonged, but it slipped onto the floor, landing on top of a pile of papers that Henry didn’t realize he was stepping on. Once he did though he took a step back, kneeling down to see what was there.

               Everything scattered on the floor were more children’s drawings of Bendy or other various characters that appeared in the cartoon. The thing that really stuck out about these drawings wasn’t the fact that obviously a child made them, but because they were all drawn in such heavy ink, as though they didn’t know what the appropriate amount of ink should be. Henry could only scratch his head in confusion, no sound or reason could help him put the pieces together for this one… He even thought about maybe someone was squatting their building, but that would be impossible too since the door was locked and there weren’t any windows in the actual studio itself. Certainly a mystery this was becoming…

               Just as Henry was standing up with the help of the wooden chair, he swore he had caught something in the corner of his eye. When he whipped his head around to the room behind him, he didn’t see anything, but that was a new room that he’s never seen before. Being in the studio now was like walking into a completely new job site, everything was so familiar yet different at the same time. Something was going on in here, either Joey had to come out and explain what it was, or Henry would figure it out himself.

               Checking to make sure that Joey wasn’t there to pull any type of prank on him, Henry cautiously made his way into the new room he’s never experienced before. Inside, there were three animation desks that were similar to his, most certainly more used than his ever was.

“Huh, looks like they knocked out a wall or two after I left. Guess it took a few people to replace me…” Henry muttered to himself as he stood at the raised floor looking over the room.

Every desk had a couple of drawings of the dancing demon himself sitting upon them, some of them were professionally done while others, again, were done by a child. Motivation Bendy posters were hung around the room, probably to make the new animators feel good about themselves while working days on end, Henry was glad to have gotten out of that life, seeing where he is now with his life and family it was worth it.

Henry stepped off the raised flooring to have a more detailed look around the room, there was something in here he could feel it. The overwhelming burning feeling of something watching his every movement was getting the better of him. Honestly, this was the first time this whole time he’s been here that he felt truly creeped out, and as though this place was… Well, he didn’t want to say haunted, there was no such thing as ghosts, but maybe the studio held a presence of some sorts.

“Hello?” Henry nervously called out, hoping he wouldn’t get an answer from nobody expect for Joey Drew. He rounded a corner to see a boarded-up room that appeared to lead to a restroom with, surprise, surprise, a Bendy cutout and flickering lights. Man, these things were everywhere, seems as though they didn’t sell as well as they’d hope.

Henry grabbed the wooden planks that were nailed along the doorway, shaking them to see if there was any way they could get taken down, but they were heavily secured. No way he’d be getting in there. It didn’t matter anyways, nothing of importance seemed to be in here anyways.

With that in mind, Henry moved on out of the room, the studio was now empty of most sound expect for the ominous sound of a clock ticking deep in the studio. It was mocking him, as if telling him that he was wasting his time here in the studio, just like he wasted an entire year being trapped here away from his wife. Tick, tick, tick, tick… Henry shook his head, pressing forward as he moved across the room that led down another hallway. Even though he’s worked here for a year, the place seemed to be the same yet extremely different.

Once Henry rounded a corner, he stopped when he came into a room with ink heavily dripping down from the ceiling and spilling onto the wooden floor below, but that’s not what caught his attention. On the wall above, written in heavy ink wrote: “DREAMS COME TRUE.” Upon closer inspection, the ink appeared to be freshly written with a small, smudged handprint underneath the written. Every brain cell was telling Henry to turn back around, pack his bags from the hotel, get back on another plane and go the hell home where he would be safe. However, one, just one, tiny little brain cell was encouraging him to go forward, to figure out what was going on here and why Joey needed him here so urgently.

Putting on the bravest face he could muster, Henry proceeded to follow the hallway further into the studio. His ears were picking up on something… Was that… a radio? Why would a radio be playing in here? Nothing was making sense and it was starting to drive Henry crazy. He stopped next to the first door that came up on his left, that had to be where the music was coming from. Along with the music, there was a bright light shining from underneath the crack in the door. Henry tried to open the door, but it was locked, and there was no way he could open it from his end. Damn, guess he’d have to come back to it later.

Pushing forward, there was something different hanging up on the wall that wasn’t just a Bendy sticker or a vintage cartoon poster. This was an Ink Output Schedule, whatever that was supposed to mean, as that certainly wasn’t there when he was still around. The white erase board was a bit difficult to read, but from Henry’s understanding was that it was comparing how many gallons of ink they were using a week? That didn’t quite make since considering the fact the last entry was listed as 423 gallons. If that were the case, then that was insane. Why would they be using all this ink? They were just an animation studio, right?

A usual thick pipe was going across the remainder of the hallway with a sign that read: “Please watch your step.” Thankfully, Henry noticed said pipe before carelessly started walking down the hall, that would’ve been a worker’s comp case. Well, it would’ve been if he still worked here that is. The hall had led into a balcony that looked down on a rather large room that, again, Henry has never seen before, he has accepted that this place got flipped around and he had no idea what anything was or is anymore. There were large chains that were hooked to the ceiling that led down what appears to be a rather large and deep hole in the ground. What could possibly be down there? Henry was eyeing the power switch next to him, but there was no way it would work in its current state as the power source was missing. Thankfully, they weren’t far away, there was a hardware chest that contained the power cells that were needed to get this going.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding down there, old friend,” he said out loud before pulling the switch.

The sound of old rusty chains squeaked through the air like nails on a chalkboard, sending goosebumps through Henry and a chill down his spine as he patiently waited for the old equipment to bring up whatever it was hiding out of sight. The chains pulled up the ink machine rather quickly for its size and weight, surprising Henry. An ink machine? Why in the world would they need an ink machine for? They never had problems getting ahold of ink while Henry was still here, so what changed since he left? Did Joey want to save money? Were ink businesses not conducting business with Joey Drew Studios? Henry was trying to connect the dots here, but nothing was fitting together which greatly frustrated him. Ink machine… Joey never mentioned that he was thinking getting one of those. What was he up to? From where Henry was standing it appeared that the machine wasn’t on; well, he supposed that’s what his next task was going to be.

“Joey… where the hell are you?” Henry mumbled to himself as he backed out of the room, turning to the right, going even deeper into the studio.

Why was he being put through all of this? Was this a test? A game? A cruel joke? Or perhaps it was a way to lure Henry back into the studio after thirty-years, and for what? So many questions were going to be left answered unless Joey came out of hiding.

Henry was lost in his thoughts, as he usually was, when a wooden plank fell from the ceiling unexpectedly. He stopped in his tracks, eyes wide with his heart beating through his chest as though it were trying to escape. He had to tell himself to relax, it was an old building and they were known for falling apart, just look around his environment, there were broken planks and holes in the walls. It’s fine, this was fine.

Turning right, Henry came across a large switch with a sign that read INK MACHINE over it with a flashing low-pressure sign next to the switch. There were six short pillars that appeared as though they held something for years judging by the dust that settled over the majority of the plates. Behind each pillar on the wall were pictures of what seemed to be random objects. This was a set up Henry’s never seen before.

“Alright, how do I get this work?” He asked out loud, hoping that maybe something from the heavens would give him an answer. Did he have to find and place the items on the pillars? Well, that shouldn’t be too hard, right…?

With the pieces of the puzzle memorized, Henry left the room to go find said items. The studio was fairly small, so finding these pieces shouldn’t be too hard. As he turned into the hallway, Henry once again had another scare. A Bendy cutout that he knew for damn sure wasn’t there before was now standing upright where the wooden plank fell from above.

“Who put this here?!” Henry demanded, glancing around, “this isn’t funny, Joey. Just come out.” He stood there for a moment, hoping that his old friend would start laughing and come out of the shadows, but there was nothing. Only the ambient, ominous sounds of the workshop filled the dull, dusty air around him.            

Everything was telling Henry to get the hell out of here, but now his curiosity was peaked and had to keep pressing forward. Besides, he could leave whenever he wanted to, so what was the worst that could happen?

Henry cautiously moved around the cutout, going to the room directly behind it. Henry only made it two steps into the room before he had to stop in his tracks once again at what he was seeing. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. Before him, strapped to a gurney upright with metal bars going across to secure them was Boris. As in, Boris from the Bendy cartoon. His chest was ripped opened with his ribs sticking out and a wrench placed inside.

“Oh my god… Joey, what were you doing?” As much as he didn’t want to, Henry had to take the wrench out, the tool made a squishy sound as it was yanked from the chest cavity, causing Henry to cringe. This was some sort of cultist ritual, it had to be, right? Nobody who was sane would do something like this. “’Who’s laughing now?’” Joey read the ink written on the wall, it was in a similar handwriting to the Dreams come true written out in the hallway, expect this time Henry noticed small, ink footprints leading out a door across the room. “God, this better not be a prank…” Henry mumbled as he went to investigate where the tracks led.

He opened the closed door, revealing a small room with two more animation desks. The tracks went right passed them, going out the door that led to the main room and to the right. Henry couldn’t help himself when he followed them further and further. The tracks stopped a slightly ajar door, with a shaky hand, Henry opened it quickly. Nothing or nobody was inside, not like anyone could fit in there anyways, it was a small closet that had empty soup cans scattered about. Closing the door, Henry noticed a cassette player sitting on the small end table, he pressed the play button, hoping that would give him some insight as to what was happening. He instantly recognized the voice of Wally Franks.

“At this point, I don’t get what Joey’s plan is for this company. The animations sure aren’t being finished on time anymore, and I certainly don’t see why we need this machine. It’s noisy, it’s messy, and who needs that much ink anyways? Also, get this, Joey had each one of us donate something from our workstation. We put them on these little pedestals in the break room… to help ‘appease the gods’ Joey says. Keeps things going… I think he’s lost his mind, but, hey, he writes the checks. But I tell you what, if one more of these pipes bursts, I’m outta here.”  

There was another closet behind the cassette player, but that one was locked. God, none of this was making sense. Why the ink machine? Why were there audio logs laying around? What happened when Henry left?

To keep himself from asking questions in a circle, Henry proceeded forward, down a long hallway where he found more of the fresh small ink footprints. He was just waiting for something to round the corner and jump out at him to scare him. Nothing did happen, however. He made it to the old viewing room without any more mishaps. It was dark, so dark that Henry could barely see in front of him. He saw a small flicker of light behind the projector, the dimly lighted light hung over a valve that read ink pressure.

That’s a good thing to have in mind, he thought as he picked up an old ink stained Bendy plush toy, giving it a squeak. God, he loved those toys, they were so cute.

Henry wandered around for about ten minutes before coming across another door that he remembered led into their downstairs break room. As apposed to the break room upstairs, this one was used when they were celebrating and had mini parties. Henry had a small, sad smile as he looked down at the room, remembering all the times they had down there. Norman and Wally were always the loudest ones in the room, Sammy seemed to have always acted as though he was pulled away from whatever important work he was doing to be there, as he was always grumpy and stewing in the corner writing on his music sheets. Joey always told him to lighten up, but Sammy seemed to be too serious in his work to do such a thing. Everything in the break room was preserved, the posters were left untouched, the furniture was in great condition, the only thing out of place was all the empty soup cans that were laying around. Wandering around, Henry stubbed his toe on a large book, when he knelt down to pick it up, he saw it was a book Joey wrote. The Illusion of Living, well he needed that too, so he tucked it under his arm with the rest of the pieces he collected.

“Would you look at that,” Henry said after he stood up and saw the old punch time clock. “I wonder if you still work.” He pushed down the old timecard that was still in the machine, it startled him with the old, familiar ringing sound it produced whenever it successfully punched a card. A loud thud came from up the stairs, startling Henry. “This place is insane.”

He went back up the stairs quietly and carefully, as the sound seemed like someone got startled by the time clock. Henry was prepared to catch whoever was messing with him, hopefully they weren’t a danger to him, but if they were well, he wouldn’t be afraid to defend himself.  The door that once had a radio playing behind it was now opened, the radio and lights off; so there was somebody hiding in there, huh? Sitting on the desk was a vinyl disk, Henry needed that so he took it, but underneath there was a note that read ‘He will set us free.’

“This isn’t funny anymore,” Henry called out as he turned around and walked out of the room. He glanced down both sides of the hallway to see if he could find anything or anyone. There it was again, a new set of small footprints tracked in ink leading back towards the entrance of the studio. This was it, Henry was closing in on whoever was messing with him and he certainly had a few words to say to them.

The footprints had suddenly stopped next to the projector that Henry had turned off the moment he entered the building. That didn’t make any sense, where did they go? Whoever it was couldn’t have just disappeared, right? Thankfully the footprints had led him right to the last two items he needed; the gear and the inkwell, it was as though someone already collected them for him as he knew those weren’t there earlier. Henry had the strong feeling that he was being watched as he picked up the last two items, he couldn’t focus on that now, he had to get this damn ink machine started so he could figure this all out.

“That’s all of them,” Henry said to himself before turning and walking back to the old breakroom that held the stands. The one thing he noticed, however, was that the Bendy cutout that was oddly placed there before was now gone. Henry was slowly starting to believe in ghosts at this point, or maybe being in here was making him lose his mind.

One by one, Henry placed every item on the correct pillar, lights turned on over head on each one he did until the room was completely lit. He had no idea who could’ve come up with this sort of layout, it seemed over the top and dramatic. Well, he just described Joey Drew, didn’t he?

“Now I just need to get the ink flowing, there was a valve in the projection room, right?” At this point, Henry couldn’t help but talk to himself, he felt alone and scared, that maybe talking to himself would help him put on the brave face to keep on pushing through this.

Making his way back, Henry was on a complete look out, both with his eyes and his ears. Obviously something was going on here and he didn’t like it at all. As he was going down the long hallway to the projection room, another Bendy cutout popped out around the corner, causing him to jump. That was it. Henry upped his pace, rounding the corner to catch whoever it was doing this. It was only this room between them now, he was going to catch him. The projection room was still dark, so finding anyone was going to be made difficult.

“You can come out now, I know you’re-“ Before Henry could finish his sentence, the projector turned on seemingly by itself, filling the room with light. The only thing that was being projected was a clip of Bendy the Dancing Demon doing a simple little dance with his trademark whistle in the background. Going behind the projector, Henry thought he was going to catch them, but nobody was there and it only made him more confused. That’s it, he was losing it. “You can’t be serious…” Henry messed with the ink pressure valve, the instant he moved it the room began to flood with ink. “So much for not getting a stain.”

This journey felt more like an endless going back and forth, as Henry made his way back to power the ink machine. He did a quick glance to make sure he had every item, everything was in place except for the Bendy plush toy. Henry groaned in frustration, but since the pillar still had a light on overhead maybe it would still work. Once he flipped the switch all the lights went off in the studio, great, this was just great. There were some dimly lit lights that helped him out, but Henry still had to keep his hand on the wall to make sure he was still going the correct way. The sound of the ink machine starting up was loud and unexpected, there better be the light at the end of the tunnel for this one.

Just keep moving, just keep moving, Henry told himself as he stepped over the large pipe in the middle of the hallway. Walking up to the ink machine room, it was suddenly boarded up. How could someone do that without him noticing or hearing? Once Henry got a close enough look into the room, something that could only be described as an ink demon popped up through the cracks, destroying the wooden planks that were in place. Henry had fallen backwards, hitting his head on the floor in shock. The walls and floor around him were turning into an ink stained mess. He had to get the hell out of the workshop. Now.

Henry jumped up, his heart slamming against his chest from both fear and trying to run as fast as he could through the thick ink. The heavy breathing of the ink demon was behind him, slowly getting close now as Henry was trying to maneuver through the twisted hallways. The exit, he needed to get to the exit, that’s the only way he would be safe. Dammit, he knew he should’ve left sooner, why didn’t he listen to his gut feeling? The ink demon let out a loud, ear piercing screech that almost caused Henry to trip over his own feet in fear. No, he was almost to the exit, he could see the door propped open now. He was almost there, he was almost- Wrong. Two more steps and he would’ve been out of the studio. Two steps was all it took for the man to fall through the flooring, falling down several stories, landing back first into a pool of ink. That fall should have killed him, the worse it caused was a sore back.

He let out a groan, laying in the ink for a moment before forcing himself to stand up. Fantastic, now he had to find his way out from an area of the studio he didn’t even know existed. There was too much ink for him to leave the room with on its own, this must have been a usual occurrence since there was a valve that was marked to drain the ink. Henry turned it, in a matter of seconds the ink escaped the room, exposing a door and another cassette player.

“It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s stuck in behind every single wall now. In some places, I swear this godforsaken ink is clear up to my knees! Who ever thought that these crummy pipes could hold up under this kind of strain either knows something about pressure I don’t, or he’s some kind of idiot. But the real worst part about all this… are them noises the system makes. Like a dying dog on it’s last legs. Makes no mistake, this place… this… machine… heck, this whole darn thing… it just isn’t natural. You can bet, I won’t be doing anymore repairs job for Mister Joey Drew.”

Henry didn’t recognize the voice on this tape, it had to be someone who came in after he left to help out around here. He couldn’t focus on that right now, he had to keep draining the ink until he could make an escape plan. Henry continued to go lower and lower, twisting every valve until he came across a door that led to a blocked path of boarded up doorway. On the wall, in fresh ink, read “THE CREATOR LIED TO US.” Whatever that meant… Oh, well, maybe Henry’s luck was finally turning around. On the table next to the message was an axe, yeah, he could use this to get out of here.

“This will definitely come in handy,” he said before chopping down the wooden planks. There were more obstacles to get around, but with the axe nothing was impossible.

This led to a room, a dim room lit with only candles around a pentagram with coffins propped up on the wall behind it. If that wasn’t concerning enough, sitting inside the pentagram appeared to be a human child, but… maybe not completely human. This boy had small, black horns sitting on top of his head, he had very dark features; jet black shaggy hair, a black button down shirt that were cut to make into short sleeves with a white bowtie, black pants and shoes, all making his skin look extremely pale. It wasn’t the horns that caused Henry to stare at him in shock, it was his eyes. His right eye had an almost white iris while his left eye had a jet black iris. Henry could just make out the two fangs that were poking out of the kids mouth. The child was holding the Bendy plush toy that Henry had placed on the pillar upstairs with ink stained hands, staring up at Henry with wide eyes. Henry was taken aback, to say the least. How did this… child (could he even call this a child?) get in the studio?

“What are you-“ Henry stopped talking when the child seemed to wince out of fear, thinking that it was axe, he set it down on the floor, “I’m not going to hurt you.” He held out a hand to the boy to show that he was no danger to him. Panicking, the child stood up quickly, backing up away from him. Every time he backed up Henry would take a small step closer.

The room seemed to be shaking around them, but Henry didn’t pay any mind to that right now. His main focus was trying to figure out why someone was in the workshop when it should have been locked up for a couple of years.

“I promise, I’m not going to-“ Once again, Henry was cut off, but this time it wasn’t by his own doing. The moment he stepped into the pentagram he started seeing vivid visions of the ink machine flash before his eyes, a chair, and the ink demon he saw earlier. He let out a grunt before passing out over the pentagram.

[the-blueish-trashcan]

He’s in Charge; Chapter Nine

Pairing: Henry/Bertrum

Warnings: [None]

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter, but I feel like it would have been strange to cut it off anywhere else. In this chapter, we learn a little more about the other staff members of the studio, and just what’s been going on with them. Not really much else to it.

Chapter word count: 3,378

{First part} {Previous part} {Next part}

Chapter Nine; Red Pen

Henry went home on time the first day he received Joey’s feedback, though it did take him a majority of his time to sort through it all and make the proper corrections. By early the next afternoon, he had been brought the Joey-approved script for the next short by a nervous-looking writer who refused to speak. Despite the interaction, it meant the animator could finally start setting up to get the next one done. Right on top of the packet was a note from Joey himself addressed to Henry, telling him that all of that day’s work was to be brought to his office and left on his desk. This struck Henry as odd more than anything. It wasn’t something Joey usually asked of him, but considering the amount of “corrections” on everything lately, it seemed to fit right in. He shrugged it off and got to work.

Around two, Henry caught the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the hall towards him, turning just in time to see a tired-looking Bertrum rounding the corner. When the man saw Henry, though, he smiled and shuffled closer.

“I can’t stay long.” He voiced, leaning down to briefly put his arms around Henry’s shoulders. “There’s been complications with some of my designs I have yet to figure out, but I will.”

Henry hummed slightly, leaning back into him. “What happened?”

“Simple malfunctions proving to be… not so simple. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was sabotage.” Bertrum sighed. “If it weren’t for you, I would have abandoned this job by now. I can find much more cooperative clients incredibly quickly.”

Henry’s eyebrows came together. “You mean I’m holding you back…?”

“Heavens, no!” Bertrum shifted so his hands were resting on Henry’s shoulders, gently squeezing. “All I mean is, I really do want you to work with me. I thought that perhaps once I finished this hellish job, I would be able to really talk you into it.”

“Trust me, your offer is more and more tempting every day. Look at this!” He gestured to the script he’d been working with. “I got sketches back yesterday that looked just like that.”

Skimming over all the red markings, Bertrum nodded. “I did as well. I’ve begun simply ignoring Drew’s comments altogether, they only complicate what I’m trying to do.” There was a moment of quiet between the two. “He’s the one ruining my work, isn’t he?”

Henry started to nod slowly. “More than likely…”

Bertrum chuckled. “My hatred for that man grows exponentially with each passing day.” His hands left Henry’s shoulders and he bent to press a very light kiss to his cheek. “I hope to see you more soon.”

Henry smiled as he was kissed, nodding. “I hope so, too.” Bertrum left then, giving Henry the chance to zone back out and into his drawings.

After working through around half of his script, he sat back in his chair, setting his pen down to flex his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he stood, hardly noticing that his back popped repeatedly as he did so. He stretched and sighed, then started towards the break room. It was only as he was thinking of making a pot of coffee that he saw the time, blinking at the clock. It didn’t feel like it was already past five. Shrugging, he went to the timeclock and punched himself out, then went back upstairs. 

Back at his desk, he thumbed through all of the storyboards he’d worked on, making sure they were in the proper order. He nodded to himself approvingly, pushed his chair in, and made his way to Joey’s office as instructed.

The room was dark when he got there, and felt like it hadn’t been left open in a long time. There were papers scattered all over Joey’s desk with some on the floor, checklists of some kind that Henry didn’t bother to read. Around where his chair would normally be, Joey had set up several cork boards on rollers much like the ones down in Bertrum’s workspace. Instead of being covered in blueprints, however, Joey’s were taken up by more lists Henry didn’t feel he should read in detail. The names of many staff members were written in large black print, making them hard to miss at just a glance and in a few places, Joey had even pinned small pictures of some other staff. From what Henry could tell, they were the voice actors and actresses the boss had been sent headshots of before they were hired. A chill went up the animator’s spine when he saw them and he suddenly got the urge to leave. He set his drawings in the middle of Joey’s desk and exited the office, closing the door tightly behind him.

*****

By Wednesday morning, Henry had nearly forgotten about the scene in Joey’s office already. It only came back as a faint memory when he saw the storyboards marked in red on his desk. He let out a sigh as he sat down to look them over, but seeing a few marked with a check instead of a million comments made him smile. The animator set aside the note telling him to leave the boards in Joey’s office for the night again, looking through the rest. Many of the other remarks Joey had made to his work he wrote off as something that could be fixed in the final product.

The only time Henry broke himself away from his drawing was around noon, when he went to the break room for a cup of coffee to keep him going. It was there that he spotted the same nervous writer that had given him the script playing darts by himself. He gave Henry a glance and moved his chair out of the way to the counter, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him at first.

It was as Henry was about to leave that the writer spoke up, bearing a very similar accent to Wally. “Hey, Mister Stein? Has… Mister Drew been as hard on you as he has us?” His tone told Henry he was obviously uncomfortable asking.

Henry raised an eyebrow, turning to the man. “What, with his comments? You’ve got no idea…”

“We can hardly get anything done, he cuts the scripts down so much that… I don’t think they’re any good. I snuck four or five pages in that one I gave you the other day.” He finished his sentence by throwing a dart, hitting near the middle of the target.

“No, I get it. He’s been practically doing the same thing to the storyboards, he doesn’t like me putting so much detail into the shorts… That’s not what I signed up to do.” 

“Me neither. I put in my two-week notice the other day, I was told to take it right down to accounting so I’d get taken off the payroll. Otherwise Mister Drew would just throw it out.”

“He won’t let people quit? That’s… Wow. And he’s just going around threatening to fire people, what does he expect?” Henry shook his head, sipping his coffee.

“I dunno, but I’m getting out of here as soon as I can and I were you, I’d do the same thing. You’ve got skill, you could work for Disney.”

Henry hummed slightly. “Yeah, I hear you…”

“That’s great, ‘cause no one else seems to!” He threw the last dart, turning to Henry. “I appreciate you talking with me, Mister Stein, but I don’t wanna keep you that long.”

“Of course. Now, I’m sorry, my memory isn’t the best, what’s your name?”

“At least you’re asking, I’m Louis. Good luck with Mister Drew.”

“Thanks, you too.” Henry offered him a smile, then made his way up the stairs again, ready to settle in for a long drawing session.

*****

“I can't believe Joey would pull this shit! And right now?! Right before a deadline? Are you kidding me?!” The voice of Sammy Lawrence bounced down the hall the next night as he and Jack approached Henry's desk, causing the animator to turn and look, confused.

“What's going on?” He questioned, pen still in hand. 

“Drew fired half the band!” Sammy snapped. Jack put a hand on his arm, patting it. 

“Wait, didn't he to that a while ago?” Henry tilted his head.

“Oh, no. No, I don't mean that. He fired half of the half that was left! As if we can spare any musicians, we were barely making it work as it was!” Sammy's face started to turn red as he kept speaking. 

“I have to admit, it's pretty strange he didn't even give us a notice. Almost nobody showed up this morning, then Joey came in and said that he had to make some cuts. That's it. No ‘I’ll put notice out soon’, or ‘sorry for the inconvenience’.” Jack explained.

“I can't tell you how badly I want to shove his wheelchair down the stairs. He can't keep doing this! We don't have a music department anymore! Six people can’t make an entire score!” Sammy threw his hands up in the air, a snarl pulling at his lips. 

“Sam, take it easy. Yelling about it won’t change the mind of someone that isn’t listening.” Jack reasoned, causing the director to nod.

“I know, I know. Look, Henry, I know you’re probably swamped with work as it is, but… Please, just for an hour, come help us get at least your piano part recorded. That way me, Jack and whoever else is left have an easier time getting this done.”

Henry bit his lip. “Won’t that make things harder, having to put audio tracks together?”

“Polk’s pretty good at what he does, I’m sure he can handle it. If, you know, he’s still around.” The lyricist shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. 

“You don’t honestly think Joey would get rid of our only projectionist, do you?” Sammy scoffed.

“I dunno, he got rid of our last janitor.” The remark caused both the animator and the music director to give him quizzical looks. “I figured you two knew. Wally hasn’t been around in a few days, nobody’s seen him since Monday. I didn’t think he was being paid enough to make a difference, but seems like Joey went and canned him anyway.”

“Are things really so bad here he had to fire the cleaning staff…?” Henry asked.

“And yet he’s got an amusement park being built in the basement. Just perfect.” Sammy rolled his eyes, then gestured to Henry. “You can see why we need you now more than ever, we have no idea who’s going to be next. Knowing Joey, I wouldn’t be surprised if he cut you and tried to make the cartoons himself.”

“At this point, it wouldn’t shock me, either. I’ve… actually already had Bertrum offer to hire me for his team so I wouldn’t have to work here. Every day, I’m more and more tempted to take it.” Henry placed his pen down, standing.

“I’ve been considering quitting lately myself. Nothing here is stable, especially since it’s pretty clear now no one’s safe from Joey’s wrath.” Jack glanced up at both other men as they started back down the hall. 

“I feel the same, I just didn’t want to leave you here alone.” Sammy returns the look. “We could always team up. You know, permanently. If anyone were to hire us, make it a package deal.”

“You know, I don’t think that’s such a bad idea, Sam.” Jack beamed. 

“Maybe it is time to move on…” Henry started to muse. “I don’t know if either of you are aware of what’s been going on with me and Joey, but it’s getting to be too much. I feel like he might… seriously hurt me someday.” He admitted.

Sammy shook his head. “That’s just not right. You’re supposed to be partners. Equals. I heard he threatened you, I don’t even know if that’s legal.”

“Shouldn’t be, anyway.” Jack added. 

The three walked in silence for a while, until they’re nearly to the steps to the music department. “Say, Henry…” Sammy began. “Do you sing? Joey fired the lower-register vocalist, if we can get that recorded today too…”

Henry shook his own head slightly, frowning. “I don’t really sing, no… I don’t have the right kind of voice for it.”

“Damn. That’s a shame Jack, you might have to do it yourself.” Sammy lightly nudged the shorter man.

“Hm… Maybe not. I think I know somebody that may work for us. I’ll run and see if I can pull him away from his work for a few seconds.” Jack shuffled off ahead of them, clearly on a mission of some kind.

*****

When Jack rejoined the animator and the director on the orchestra floor, he had indeed managed to drag someone with him, somewhat literally. He held the worried-looking man by the wrist, pulling him along behind him with a smile on his face. 

“I got him! It took some convincing, but I’ve got our temporary vocalist!” Jack exclaims.

“W- vocalist? That’s what this is about? You said it was an emergency, I told you I don’t like singing.” The other man tried to argue. He stood shorter than Jack only by a few inches, but that made the deep voice he produced that much more shocking. His red-brown hair looked as though he’d attempted to slick it back, but instead, it stood out in every direction. From where he was sitting at the piano, Henry could see his blue button-up was half untucked from his slacks, one of his suspenders hanging off of his shoulder. His glasses balanced on the end of his nose. It looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and the longer Henry looked at him, the easier it was to see that he was shaking all over. 

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “This is an emergency! We have exactly six people left working for us and no singers. Well, we have Susie, of course, but we need a different kind of voice right now. That’s where you come in, Cohen!”

The other man jumped hard at the action. “W-wait, why so few? What happened?”

“Fired or quit, I suppose. Leaning more towards them being fired.” Sammy interjects from behind a music stand, a violin in his hands. 

“That… isn’t right. That’s my department, if they got fired, I’d be the first to know. I give out the pink slips.” The sentence is directed to Jack. 

“Well, regardless of what’s going on, right now we have six people to work with. Come on over here and I’ll get you the lyrics. You’ll only have the piano to go by. Can you read sheet music?” As the lyricist explained, he lead Cohen to the alcove by the piano where a microphone hung from the ceiling. 

“I… think so. I haven’t had to since I was maybe seven.” He answers.

“It’s okay, I haven’t either. If you need help, I’ll show you.” Henry offers.

“Uh, thanks. I don’t believe we’ve met?” Cohen offers his hand for Henry to shake.

Henry takes it, giving it a few solid shakes. Cohen is, indeed, trembling all over. “Henry, hi.”

“Oh, hello. Right, you’re the one with the difficult paychecks. You’re in animation. By yourself, right…? You can just call me Grant.” Grant attempted to offer a smile.

“Oh…” Henry laughed awkwardly. “I’ve… been fighting with Joey lately, I guess my pay’s reflecting that, isn’t it?”

“Just a little, not bad… Er, not too bad, really.” His smile turned to a slight wince. It was then that Jack handed him a few papers.

“Sorry to interrupt fellas, but here’s the lyrics. We’ll run through the instrumental once for you to follow along, second time through, you'll jump in.” He turned to address the room. “Ready?!” His enthusiasm earned a few half-hearted cheers from the other musicians gathered, then the music kicked up. 

*****

Later in the evening, Henry’s work was once again interrupted when he caught the now-familiar sound of heavy footsteps, turning in his chair as Bertrum stepped up to him. He was dressed in a grease-stained tank top, telling Henry he’d been working construction that day. While his expression softened at the sight of Henry, he still didn’t look happy. 

“What’s the matter?” Henry tilted his head.

“Drew, what else?” Bertrum scoffed, leaning against the wall. “He shut me down today.”

The animator’s expression turned confused. “What?”

“I am no longer being paid to design, prototype and build an amusement park for Joey Drew. He shut my whole operation down today.” He repeated.

“Oh geez… Bertrum, I’m sorry…” Henry set his pen down and stood, opening his arms to the taller man.

Sighing, Bertrum pulled him close, arms around his back. “I’m more relieved than anything. I simply don’t want to leave you in this madness.”

“I know… I can’t just leave. It’s not so much Joey, it’s my friends. Everyone’s struggling in their own departments, Sammy’s already asked for my help…” 

“The ship is sinking, Henry dear. If you and your friends have sense, you’ll jump off before it goes down.” Bertrum let go then, his hands resting on Henry’s shoulders.

“That’s what everyone’s saying…” Henry looked up at him, frowning. 

“I know you’re nervous about leaving. I hate seeing you in a situation like this, you just let me know when you’re ready for a new job. There’s a spot for you by my side. I’ll let you be tonight, but come visit me tomorrow?” 

Henry nodded. “I will, it’ll be nice after this week.”

Bertrum bent down and pressed a kiss to Henry’s forehead, just briefly. “Goodnight, Henry.”

“Goodnight.” Somewhat dismayed, Henry watched him leave. He made the attempt to get back to work after that, but found himself unfocused. After a moment of tapping the back of his pencil on the paper, he gathers them together and stands, making his way to Joey’s office. As he does, he notes that most of the lights are off in the inner parts of the studio and one of the clocks he passes does, in fact, tell him that it’s nearly time to clock out.

He’s not even halfway down the hall when he catches the familiar voice of Norman Polk coming from behind Joey’s door, but judging by how far away he is, Norman must be shouting. Cautious, Henry gets closer, stopping outside the door. 

"-two-dozen people in that orchestra, we had three people cleanin' up after your sorry ass, and hardly six of any of them are left! What the fuck have you been doing?!" Norman's voice shouted.

"Mister Polk, I'd like you to keep your voice down, please. There's a perfectly good explanation for all this." Joey responded, more muffled.

"You didn't fire all those people! Your li'l accounting puppet said he had no idea you'd done it! You know what that tells me, Drew? You know what that says?" Norman had not lowered his voice.

"Mister Polk, if you'd like to keep your own job, I would suggest you bite your tongue and go home for the night." Even through the closed door, Henry caught the dangerous tone of his voice. "Otherwise, you may deeply regret what you're doing."

There was a sound of someone hitting the desk, and it only could've been Norman. "This isn't over! I sees what you've got set up here, I sees that stuff drippin' from your eyes! I can feel you're up to somethin' nasty, you can bet your life I'll figure out exactly what!" As soon as he finished, the door to Joey's office flew open, causing Henry to jump. Norman's face was twisted into a deep scowl, his eyes falling on the animator. He slipped past, mumbling an "excuse me" as he went.

With the door open, Henry peeked into the office, worried. "Sir…?"

Joey was wiping his eyes with a handkerchief, black smears coming off on the fabric. The whites of his eyes were just barely fading back to normal. "Put the papers down and leave." He commanded. Henry shuffled into the room and did so, rushing back out without another word. In his mind, he could not get to the time clock and punch out fast enough.

[insane-control-room]

The Sketch

Chapter Three, Segment Four

Previous - Next

full chapter on ao3 here

Three little things change so much.

Joey woke up to Henry’s soft snoring. It left him with an incredulous smile on his face, his heart aflutter. The distinct smell of the man’s aftershave and scent of fresh daisies nearly sent Johan back into a crush like swoon. The glow of his soft, curly, strawberry pink and blonde hair, the sun’s rays brilliantly illuminating each strand in high definition, and that wonderfully blossoming glow reflecting onto Joey beautifully. The warm and comforting presence of his stout and sturdy body, pressing down onto the bed and making Joey gravitate towards him. All of Joey’s senses were occupied, aside from taste, though he could sense his mouth watering at the thought of spending each morning like that. He and Henry together, little Linda in her own room, dozing away peacefully, pure sugary goodness and warmth for their entire family, get togethers with the Flynns, Franks, and the rest of the studio members, tea with Bertrum and coffee with Sammy, complaining to Lacie and joking with Buddy, that was all he wanted. His family to be with him, his family to be safe. Johan, still smiling, pressed a kiss to the top of Henry’s head, staring up at the white ceiling, dissociating to another existence slowly.

A world without Henry. Without anyone. Alone. 

His arms tightened around Henry involuntarily, brows tilting in concern. Heavens, he was terrified of that world, of that past. He wished he could forget it, and yet, at the same time, he knew that if he would, it would happen, over and over. It already did. There was a gaping hole in his soul where the forgotten lives rested, never to rise again, always whispering in his mind the missing time, the lost choices, the dooms he rang and the lives he stole.

Joey was a murderer.

His breathing hitched, eyes welling over.

And it was not just in one forgotten or remembered past life, but all of them, even this one. He did not have a choice, this was before he understood what horrors he could wreak across the multitude of universes. That first death was burned into him.

His step uncle’s flashing grey eyes, the way he tried to cut out his heart, oh, he would never forget the glint of the butcher’s knife, the way it drove into his shoulder, tendons muscles and joints ripping, skin and veins tearing, blood slickening the hand of the man pinning him, his right hand grasping his wrist through pain, left snatching the weapon cleaved into his arm, and 

there

was

so

much

blood.

So much noise. 

White noise blazing and ringing in his ears.

His eyes alight with icy tears, he gasped and nearly sobbed, snapping back to his shaking body. 

Do not wake Henry.

He forced himself to stay silent, his free hand slapping over his mouth, clenching his jaw to keep quiet. 

Do not wake him.

“Joey?” Henry mumbled, pushing himself off the bed. His hand patted the side table for his glasses, which were on top of his head. Johan remained silent. “Johan, you ok?”

Johan did not reply, but shook his head in response. Henry, rubbing his eyes, turned to face him, looking at him intently. Blue teal eyes softened, his yellow hair glowing, eyebrows knitting in sadness. He took Joey’s face in his hands, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Love, it’s okay,” Henry assured him, his thumbs going back and forth on Joey’s cheeks, calming him tenderly. “Remember, we are in this together. Nothing can tear us apart. Don’t forget that. Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” Joey promised in a raspy breath. His throat felt raw. He coughed, and sobbed, and buried his face in Henry’s shoulder, shoulders shaking. “I hope I won’t, please don’t let me forget, please, Henry, I d-don’t wanna forget….”

“You won’t, you won’t.”

“Henry?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I… you know.”

“Why c-can’t you ever say it?” Joey’s voice broke, a hint of exasperation, of hopelessness, of sadness, of hurt seeping into the cracks. Henry, staring at the blank wall, felt the reverberations of Joey’s words on his neck as the weeping man clung to him, and he felt a thin and icy sweat break out on his brow. “You say it, but only when you laugh, you say it, only when you don’t think, you say it, but you never mean it.”

Henry could not reply. He did not even know what to say. How could he? He did not know the reason. It was not the internalized fear, nor was it that he did not love him, he did, he truly did, but he never could say it. He did not know how. 

So, he just wrapped his arms around Joey tightly, and hugged him close, trying to say with his heart what his mouth refused to form and release.

Johan was let out of the hospital that day, leaning away from Henry. Henry felt a divide grow between them again. He wished in his mind to be able to say those three words, but he could not. Joey had once told him of another love who refused to say those same words, and he seemed so sad as he told him, but still so hopeful.

That burning hope. It melted everyone nearby, it endeared Joey to everyone. He was the sweetest and kindest soul Henry had ever met. Bertrum and Lacie loved him as his family, Grant and Sori took him in and cared about him, the entire music department adored him, he was Joey Drew, but more importantly he was their friend and family. A brother, a father, a nephew, a cousin, an uncle, he was all of it. 

To Henry, he was so much more, but he did not know what to say. 

He was his moonlight sonata, his sweet honey bee, his darling devil, and so very wonderful.

Finishing the animations of Joey’s story boards, sending them to the junior animators for fixing up anything he missed, he made his way upstairs to Joey’s apartment. For the past few days, Joey had been obsessing over blueprints for a vast amount of different inventions, mechanical legs, bionic eyes, and lately, that machine. The inventions took over Joey’s thoughts, and he needed someone to remind him to go to meetings (that he avoided by drinking copious amounts of coffee), or to go to sleep (normally Willy or Wally took that upon themselves), or to go outside so that he did not pass out from the lack of external stimulus (Henry was still trying to decode that).

He opened the door, expecting to see him surrounded by papers, and was gladdened to see that he was not, instead happily settled in his wheelchair by his coffee table, pondering before a chessboard with no opponent behind it. He was so absorbed in the game that did not notice Henry. Henry grinned, about to ask if Johan was playing himself, when Johan, on white, made a quick out of book move, and the black pieces moved on their own to counter.

Henry’s jaw dropped and he stared in a complete and total shock, silenced by the surprise of the magic, as Johan continued to play against no one, signing words every now and then, and eventually won, his pieces dancing a small jig before both white and black pieces reset.

Johan then took notice of Henry, and with a grin, gently picked up the game and put it in a glass case, patting the lid affectionately.

“Fascinating, isn't it?” he inquired to the doctor with a blinding grin. “A worthy player. A real sweetheart, too. When you sit before it, you can see him. He speaks sign very well. G-Grace helped me learn it, y-you know.”

“That’s really incredible,” Henry affirmed, eyes wide. “Where on earth did you pick something like that up from?”

“Found it in an old bookstore being used as a prop.”

“You bought it?”

“Nah, I traded some stuff for it. Old books that I had doubles of.”

“Why didn’t you just buy it?” Henry asked, confused, knowing that Joey loved his books and only gave away his doubles to those he loved. Johan did not say anything. “Did you… could you not afford it?”

“No, I could not,” Joey replied, his face darkening. Henry smiled softly, and lifted Joey’s face with his hands, his big palms pressing to Joey’s cheeks. “I wish I c-could’ve….” 

“I know,” Henry soothed him, pressing their foreheads together. Joey relaxed into the touch. “I know, and I wish I was there for you then. But now, we’re here. Together. Right?”

“Right,” Johan answered absently. Henry patted his cheeks. “What-t?”

“You’re zoning out, Johan,” Henry chuckled. Joey blushed, and Henry could feel it. Henry smiled. “You’re adorable, Jo.”

“No I’m n-not!” Joey stuttered, blushing, squirming. He could not escape Henry’s laugh, and he turned even redder. “Henry!”

“I love you.”

Joey froze, staring at him.

“I love you.” Henry repeated.

He watched Joey melt in love. 

[megalony]

Spare parts

Another Ben Hardy imagine that is based on the book ‘My sister’s keeper’.

Taglist: @marshmallowmae  @langdonzvoid  @butlegendsneverdie  @jennyggggrrr  @luvborhap

Ben Hardy masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You are not considering this?" Ben's chest began to heave as he stared at his wife as if he didn't recognise her anymore. His eyes burning into her own as his hands started to clench into fists at what was being suggested to them by the doctor sitting in front of them both. "She's six!" Ben almost screamed, the lid holding in his temper was beginning to lift as he jumped to his feet.

There was no way that he could sit here and listen to this conversation any more that was undoubtedly going to put one of his daughter's in danger if this was even considered. Ben was not going to agree to this and he was not having anyone make this decision behind his back or make this for his daughter. This was not happening to Lily.

"Mr Jones, please calm down. This procedure does have risks-"

"Read my lips. No. You can't do this without my consent even if you have hers and you are not getting it. You've all done enough to my daughter, you are not doing this shit to her anymore."

Even if they had Claire's consent to go through with this they didn't have Ben's and his name had been on all of the forms from the very beginning. They knew if they even tried to go behind his back on this he would do something drastic such as taking legal action against them. He was not permitting Lily to be subjected to this and he couldn't bear to look at his wife who already seemed to have made up her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jacket, Ben couldn't stop his foot from tapping anxiously against the floor. His hand briefly reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone when he felt it vibrating. His heart picking up speed when he saw the name of who was calling. Ben didn't think twice before declining the call when he saw it was his wife.

Glancing his eyes up he quickly stuffed the phone into his back pocket when Lily anxiously walked over to him, clearly confused as to why Ben was picking her up from school early.

"Thank you." He stated kindly to the teacher stood behind Lily who had fetched her from class. Trying his best to hide his nerves so they wouldn't get the impression that anything was wrong. Reaching out Ben bent down so he could scoop Lily up into his arms, feeling her arms wrap rather tightly around his neck before he turned around and headed out of the school reception. His pace slowing down to a normal one as he tried not to run out of the school to get to the car.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Lily's voice came out timid and rather afraid as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck as Ben walked over to his car.

"S'alright, don't worry baby. I'm taking you away for the afternoon." Ben didn't know if telling her the truth or not would be the best option but she could easily tell when he was nervous and right now he was panicking. That in turn always made Lily panic and he didn't want that but there wasn't much else he could do right now. Ben was pulling at straws.

"Why? D-do I have to go to the hospital early?" The amount of fear in her voice made Ben want to cry. His chest quaking as he quickly reached the car, opening it and sitting in the back for a moment so he could talk to Lily without anyone overhearing. Setting her down on his knee he quickly shook his head to her question, his arms winding around her middle as she clutched at his shirt as if it was her lifeline.

"Sweetheart, I know your mum said you have to see the doctor today but I'm not letting that happen. You don't have to do anything you don't want to and I won't let them go through with this if you don't want to."

"I don't want to... b-but mummy said I have to help Rosie." The words came out in a quiet whimper so low that Ben nearly missed them. His head tilted down to look at the six-year-old, her eyes locking with his own that were brimming with tears. Ben couldn't handle this anymore, all those times Lily had agreed to help her sister because she was made to believe that it was what she needed to do. Her mother practically telling her it was what she was alive for. Ben couldn't do that to his youngest girl anymore, he couldn't have her thinking that she needed to do this if she didn't want to.

"Rosie isn't well, but this will make you ill too and that's not fair. Now, your mum doesn't know I'm taking you out, we're going to see uncle Joe for a while, that okay?" Ben had made a split second decision to take Lily from school, only telling Joe of his plans.

Claire had been the one to book the doctor's appointment for Lily to discuss something that Ben was dead set against. She hadn't told Ben because she knew his views on the matter but Lily had let slip the night before thinking he already knew about the appointment. Lily would never set foot in the hospital without Ben there to hold her hand and tell her everything was okay so for her to know now that he wasn't taking her and didn't want her to go showed her this was bad. This was something that Ben drew the line at completely and he was not crossing that line. So he waited until Claire left the house before speeding down to come and collect Lily.

Joe had kindly agreed to look after Lily for Ben without telling anyone so Ben could get a few things worked out.

"Okay."

It didn't take too long to get from the school to Joe's home, watching a bright smile light up his face when Lily trotted over to him with her arms out wide.

"Uncle Joey!" Thankfully her anxiety about the situation had died down quite a lot during the car ride which in turn calmed Ben down immensely. Reaching over Joe picked up the six-year-old, bouncing her on his hip before he turned to look at Ben and beckoned him inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Alright, where's Lily? The school said you picked her up and now we're late for the appointment so come on." Claire sighed, setting her bag down on the kitchen counter as Ben's eyes shot daggers at her through his glare over the rim of his mug. He didn't seem at all fazed by her question as he continued to drink his coffee in silence, knowing it was aggravating her.

"She's fine, she's out for the day." Ben couldn't say where she was because that would defeat the point of taking her to stay with Joe. Claire didn't know where Joe lived and she would never think of Ben taking Lily to stay with him for a while. He wasn't having Lily stay with family where Claire could easily go and get her to take her to the doctors.

"Don't do this Ben. Why is Lily more important than Rosie?" It was a good job that Ben had set the mug down or else he would have choked on his coffee at her words. She was a fine one to walk when she clearly didn't think of Lily's best interests, Rosie's health always being paramount to Lily and Ben was sick of it. He was sick of her thinking Rosie was more important and he was sick of Lily being pushed to help her sister when she clearly didn't want to anymore. Ben was also fed up of how he used to agree with Claire when they used to bribe their own daughter to go through with all the appointments and the surgery and the tests to help their other daughter.

This time it was too much to ask and Ben was finally doing what he should have done many years ago. He was sticking up for his youngest daughter and he was not backing down.

"What does Rosie want for her birthday?" The question caught Claire off guard, her eyes narrowing in confusion as this had nothing to do with the conversation at hand. Rosie's birthday wasn't for another five months. "Just answer the question." Ben stated before she had a chance to tell him that this was irrelevant.

"To be at home for her birthday, to have a movie day like we always used to with a pillow den and all the movies she missed whilst she's in hospital. Why?" Folding his arms on the counter Ben nodded along with what Claire was saying, knowing his next words were going to catch her out because she wouldn't have a clue how to answer his question.

"And... what does Lily want for her birthday?"

There it was.

The look of pure confusion and uncertainty in Claire's eyes that showed Ben had set her into a trap that would begin to win him this argument. Claire knew everything Rosie wanted, she knew what Rosie liked to eat, what she liked to watch, her favourite colour and what she wanted for her birthday. But when it came to Lily, oh that was a different matter entirely. Claire's ears only pricked up when Lily said she wanted to help Rosie, that was the main thing Claire knew about her second daughter.

"She hasn't said-"

"She hasn't said? Is that all you got? Rosie's birthday is in five months, Claire! Lily will be seven in two months and you honestly don't give a shit to ask her what she wants? She wants to go to a theme park because we promised her she could ride her first rollercoaster when she was five and we broke that promise to her. And you have the fucking nerve to tell me I think she's more important than Rosie." Lily didn't want anything but to finally be able to go to a theme park for her birthday.

One of the things they had done when Lily was afraid or didn't want to go through with helping her sister was making her promises. Such as they could go on holiday soon or go to a theme park or just get ice cream and such. Ben remembered Lily asking and then not saying anything when they didn't get to take her. So when he asked her what she wanted for her birthday all she said was going to a theme park and he knew she hadn't forgotten their broken promise to her which broke his heart.

"We can't keep doing this anymore Claire. We can't promise Lily she can have an ice cream or go to a theme park or go on holiday if she keeps doing stuff for Rosie it isn't fair."

"What about Rosie? Ben, she's in the hospital where she always is. Lily is her sister, she is her donor we can't just let Rosie lie there when she needs help."

That wasn't an excuse and it wasn't the case anymore. Rosie had leukaemia and had suffered from this form of cancer since she was two. Lily was born so she could be a match for Rosie to help her. First it was just stem cells and they came from the umbilical cord which Ben thought was fine. They wanted another child and it didn't put Lily at risk or hurt her at all, so he saw no problem with this. Then it got worse. Rosie got ill and needed blood so Lily was there to give it to her, then she needed more stem cells and of course Lily to the rescue. Then it was bone marrow which was always the worst because it came from the middle of the bone and was a hurtful procedure.

Claire saw Lily as a donor bag that was there as spare parts and Ben thought it was cruel to keep asking Lily to do all of this when she was so young and so afraid. She hated hospitals and she didn't want to be a donor for her sister it wasn't fair when she only got pain out of it.

Ben cared about both his daughters, how could he not? But there was a point where he drew the line and Rosie needing a kidney was that line. Lily was six, she couldn't give an organ donation and the simple fact that Claire considered this made the actor want to throw up. Lily was not giving her kidney when it came with many risks for her and no benefits. She would have to live a very cautious life and if Rosie wanted anything else Lily would be the one living in a hospital too it wasn't fair. They couldn't ask this of a six-year-old and Ben would not have anyone forcing Lily to go through with this.

"Lily is six years old. I am not having our daughter living the rest of her life on immunosuppressants and hundreds of doctors appointments to make sure she is okay for the rest of her life. She is not giving her kidney to Rosie because it is not humane! What if Lily gets complications? Rosie can go on the donor's list and get a kidney from someone who actually doesn't mind parting with it."

"Rosie can't wait that long Ben! This is the fucking reason we had Lily, to help her sister she can do this she wants to-"

Her words were cut off when the mug resting in front of Ben was shattered against the wooden floor. His hand was quick to swipe out and force it off the table without a second thought.

"That may have been the reason she was conceived, but that is not the reason she is alive! You never ask her if she wants to do this but I did. She is too young to do this and if you want her kidney you go and get a lawyer because I am looking after her best interests here. Rosie is dying Claire, that kills me too but she is. A kidney won't stop the rest of her system from shutting down and once this is done she will want something else and then some more from Lily. I'm not doing this with you anymore, me and Lily are moving out and you are not cutting her up anymore. Consider Lily for once in your life or fight me like the vulture you are for her spare parts."

Ben was not putting a six-year-old girl through an organ transplant when the chances were that it would only give Rosie a few extra months. A kidney was not going to give Rosie her life back and it was not going to take Rosie's cancer away from her no matter how hard they prayed or wished for it to.

He would fight anyone that tried to hurt Lily anymore or force her to do this because Ben was looking after her best interests. Lily was not a yard of spare parts for her sister and she didn't deserve to be treated like one.