#joey and the motherfuckin ink machine
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ediblenapkin-moved Ā· 7 years ago
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Thatā€™s The Thing About Dreams- Chapter 1
A/N: holy fucking shit why. Why am i doing this nobody asked for this
What the fuck
uuuuuuuUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH iā€™m actually doing this
Iā€™m almost 90% sure this idea already exists somewhere, but I canā€™t find it. If anyone knows who the fuck first made it then please tell me so i can direct people there. If not then holy shit i had an original idea????? (hahahahahahaha yeah no.)
Anyways, I donā€™t quite have any good names for this fucking fic so prepare for utter and complete BS no matter what I settle on. I mean, the entirety of this fucking AU is just summed up with the words What If Joey Got DraftedĀ (iā€™ve officially called it the Animator Reversal Au but that sounds dumb) (someone with creativity: help) (the title is shit. sorry.)
And finally, i have no fucking skill in writing certain things. You know, like a proper intro and all that jazz. So i apologize ahead of time. Iā€™ll probably go back later and edit this. maybe. whenever i can open my eyes for a minute.
Here is the ff.net link.
Enjoy.
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ā€œJoey? You doing alright?ā€ Henry leaned into his friendā€™s office, but froze.
The man was sitting at his desk, staring at the wall. A letter laid loftily on top of all the varied sketches and designs that were scattered across the overused workspace. An inkwell had been tipped over, the ink dripping lightly into a puddle. As Henry spoke, he turned and stood, shoving all the paper further up on the desk.
ā€œAh! Henry! Yes, yes, Iā€™m doing fine. I was just taking a break, as a matter of fact. Care to join me?ā€
Henry frowned. Something was off, but he couldnā€™t quite tell what. ā€œYeahā€¦ā€
ā€œGreat! Come on.ā€
Joey walked off, but Henry stayed in the doorway, staring at the desk. Soon he found himself pulling down one fold of the letter, and scanning it. He knew it would probably be fine- Joey read most of the letters he got.
As he read, though, his face went pale. He folded the letter, slipped it back on top of the other paper, and walked to the break room.
This probably wasnā€™t going to end well.
****************
Within twenty minutes, Joey was slumped in a chair in the break room, and already the contents of the letter were out and already spread through at least three floors of the studio.
ā€œYou? You are getting drafted.ā€
Joey sighed. ā€œYes, Iā€™m pretty sure thatā€™s what it said.ā€
Henry shifted in his seat. As soon as heā€™d made it down to the break room, heā€™d pulled Joey aside and asked him about the letter. Of course, in an animation studio with this many people and only one break room every three floors, there were at least two people taking their breaks no matter when you checked. And it just so happened that Sammy was taking his break in the ground floor break room.
Currently, the music director was leaning against the wall, eyes shut. ā€œSo now what?ā€
ā€œYeah, now what?ā€ Wally, sitting in a chair propped by the doorway, looked up. ā€œHowā€™s this supposed to work out? Itā€™s already crazy enough with you here- if you leave, I donā€™t think weā€™re gonna be able to keep this place in one piece.ā€
A chorus of agreements filled the room from the various staff who had already made their way upstairs. Susie had been one of the first, and instantly she began firing off questions one after the other- but as more and more people arrived, itā€™d just gotten louder and louder- until finally Sammy got everyoneā€™s attention and forced most of them to go back to work. Quite a few remained, though, and they were finally using up the chairs that had been haphazardly placed in the break room.
Something that Joey didnā€™t really enjoy, butā€¦.
ā€œSo, how many days?ā€
ā€œFour. Four days.ā€ He put his head in his hands. ā€œAnd just when I had the perfect ideaā€¦ā€
ā€œWhat, you were gonna give me a raise?ā€ Several people chuckled, and Joey raised his head just enough to glare at Sammy for a moment.
ā€œSeriously, though, what are we going to do? Are we going to take a hiatusā€¦?ā€
Silence. Then, Joey shook his head. ā€œNo, no stopping now. Weā€™ve gotten this far- even if Iā€™m not going to be here, things shouldnā€™t stop here.ā€ He stood. ā€œAlright, hereā€™s the plan- Henry is officially in charge.ā€ The animator blinked as Joey pointed at him. ā€œBut, Sammy- youā€™re in charge of making sure Henry doesnā€™t screw up anything major. You know what, Franks- youā€™re also in charge of Henry.ā€
ā€œHell, just put everyone else in charge of Henry and call it a day,ā€ Thomas muttered.
Henry groaned from his seat. ā€œYou donā€™t trust me to run this place, yet you call me the co-owner.ā€
ā€œDonā€™t worry. I knew you didnā€™t want to really do anything business wise, so Iā€™m pushing it on them.ā€
ā€œAnd youā€™re the one who spent an outrageous amount of money on a whole toy factory, but Iā€™m the untrustworthy oneā€¦ā€
ā€œHey, that toy factoryā€™s got a nice profit.ā€
ā€œAnd I donā€™t?ā€
*******************
Three more days saw Joey Drew on his knees, tracing ink onto the floor slowly and carefully with one hand, the other set against an open book.
Finally, he finished, and stood, picking the book up.
A fully drawn pentagram laid on the floor, still gleaming and fresh. It was surrounded by lit candles and a ton of uncapped, full inkwells.
Joey took a deep breath, bringing the book closer. He only had a little bit of time left. If this worked, it could keep the studio afloat while he was gone. It would last long enough for him to come back. Because he would come back. (He had to think he would because if he thought he might then that left room for doubt and that meant he believed, at least a little, that he could very much die out there and bleed out in a foreign place with nobody recognizable in sight and all his dreams stuck in his head where nobody can reach them-)
Joey would return.
He reopened the book, flipping to the correct page. The page heā€™d handwritten, having used well over thirty different books as a reference. The entire book was basically one giant reference for the varied things he wanted to do.Some pages filled with pentagrams, some with character sketches, some with rants and ramblings about anything he could think of.
Due to one of the thoughts heā€™d had when writing, it had the thought provoking title of The Illusion of Living sketched on with a bit of white pencil. Not that it would ever be published, of course.
Joey paused for a moment- allowing the doubt to seep in. Itā€™s not going to work. Itā€™s going to go wrong. Something doesnā€™t feel right.
Then. he shook his head. No, this would go right. It had to.
He took another breath and began chanting. As he spoke, he noticed the lines on the circle beginning to darken- and then the ink moved. He stuttered, nearly botching a word, but managed to catch himself and continue.
The ink pulled itself from the inkwells, gathering in a point in the middle of the circle. It began to rise, forming a shaky pillar that nearly reached Joeyā€™s shoulders. As Joey spoke the final words, it sunk back down slightly- and began to form a definitive shape.
Joey finished the chant- and the ink paused.
Then it collapsed.
Joey cried out, looking at the page- then put the book down and kneeled next to the circle.
The ink broke the confines of the circle, but remained inanimate. It didnā€™t move any further, simply remained a pile of ink on the floor.
For a while, Joey waited. Maybe heā€™d said one of the words wrong. Maybe there wasnā€™t enough ink. Maybe, maybe, maybeā€¦
But soon enough, a clock chimed- and he checked his watch. His shoulders sagged.
His time was up. This was his last day in the studio- his last chance. But it hadnā€™t worked.
He shut the book, and set it back on the desk. Blew out the candles. Then, silently, he walked out, not turning back, leaving the ink puddle on the floor.
He shut the door just as the ink rippled.
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A/N: So for some reason, whenever I think of an actual image of Joey now, all I can see is Cave Johnson. The younger one. The one that thinks heā€™s got all his shit together and he can test on Olympiads and astronauts!!! Yeah that one. Thatā€™s what I imagine Joey looks like. So when I write Joey, I canā€™t help but imagine this guy that looks a lot like Cave Johnson. If, ya know, Cave failed to raise enough money for Scienceā„¢ and had to settle for cartoon business instead. And decided to dabble with magic because he couldnā€™t afford Scienceā„¢. Because you know what, fuck Scienceā„¢. what did it ever do for him.
So thereā€™s that.
Anyways thereā€™s probably a million and one errors with this but i cannot care enough to fix anything at this point so
On a side note, i sometimes regret putting certain songs in my playlist.not because i donā€™t like them, but because i really do not need that mood when writing this story. Like, i love the sound, but i do not need this mood. This is supposed to be a SERIOUS scene, not really silly. Stop making me crack dumb jokes with little taste.
Something serious. Iā€™m pretty sure Henry knew the toy factory existed- where else could the plushies have come from- but never got to see it or anything. Just found out that it was there and was like joey why
So, thereā€™s chapter 1. Who knows when chapter 2 will arrive????.... I sure donā€™t hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha sorry
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