#maybe that's the reason that sammy and joey were able to keep standing and henry got thrown back

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

18. Skeleton

Buddy and Sammy find the “goldfish room” as the latter calls it, AKA the closet where Joey keeps his skeletons, literally. And in the process, Buddy learns about a few of the skeletons in Sammy’s metaphorical closet. (Set during ink hell, pre loop, post Buddy befriending the lost ones/searchers.)

The Prophet was a strange ally.

It was weird to work alongside someone who worships the guy who tore you in half and is the biggest reason why you’re stuck in a nightmarish, inescapable studio, especially when it wasn’t the nicest or friendliest person before getting claimed by the ink. (Although, as he thought back on it, had he ever met Sammy before it was claimed by the Ink?)

But ANY ally was better than an enemy, especially when that ally knows the studio better than anyone else down here. Besides, it seemed like the Ink man was either unaware of their past or didn’t even know who they used to be, and even if it did, it wasn’t angry about their past issues.

At the same time, working on scavenging trips with the former musician was a nightmare; it was way too tranquil about the situation, and there were too many weird murderous monsters that the wolf and gofer were aware of.

“I do not need to run, little wolf. I can evade these creatures without issue through my Lord’s gift.” The Prophet calmly stated as Buddy gestured confusion about why it didn’t run when the pair heard something that sounded suspiciously like the projectionist’s screams. “Besides, running through these halls is risky, I would be heard by those… more unsavory denizens of this studio and get ambushed by them.”

He wished his typewriter was quieter in instances like this, being able to type out ‘But what if you get caught by your lord?’ and other messages to hand to him without risking alerting the Ink Demon would be great. Or just having his voice back in general.

“If my Lord decides to send me back to the puddles, then it is his right to do so to prove I have changed.” He answered the unspoken question. “But it does mean that I have to work harder to get him to notice how much I have improved, get him to notice me…” 

‘Please don’t read my mind unless I give you the “go for it” gesture. It’s creepy otherwise.’

“My apologies, little wolf, while your thoughts come in quieter than everybody else’s… they’re still noticeable, especially when it’s just the two of us.”

Buddy hesitantly nodded and just tried to lead the Prophet out of the ransacked room to look for more stray supplies.

A few more hours of searching lead the pair to a locked room, something that experience told him meant that either it was another dead end or a hidden treasure trove of supplies, and not wanting to go back to the safe house empty handed, he was ready to roll those dice.

Buddy gestured for the Prophet to stand guard as he picked the door’s lock, and as the door slowly creaked open, he was thankful that he couldn’t speak because the scream that came out from his mouth would’ve been loud enough to alert every monster in the studio.

The former gofer felt sick to his stomach when he saw them. Piles upon piles of rotting, mangled, corpses. Human Corpses, not toony corpses like the other Borises or the butchered up members of the Butcher gang. Most of them were unrecognizable, partly because he had never seen most of these people in his life, and partly because they had decayed so much that what remained was hard to figure out who was who and what. The oldest corpses were nothing but skeletons and clothes, and the freshest one looked like…

...Like his own body.

“The goldfish room...” The prophet muttered loud enough for Buddy to hear, startling the poor pup out of his skin as he didn’t hear him enter behind him.

The wolf shuddered and continued to scour the room for anything worth the hassle of all of this. Boris wanted to take a few of the bones, which Buddy unenthusiastically obliged.

“Don’t eat those!” The Prophet interjected so loudly and harshly that it startled both the former gofer and the wolf toon. The ink creature’s anger was so much scarier with how rare it was to see now. “Especially not him! He’s my-” The Prophet stopped itself by covering its ‘mouth’ with its hands as if it was about to reveal a big secret and just took the skeletal arm out of Buddy’s hands and put it back where he found it. Its voice went back to it’s normal calm tone that reminded him of someone who was on the verge of falling asleep, but Buddy heard somberness in the musician’s pitch. “...they’re unclean...”

‘Prophet?’ Buddy gave him the “go ahead, read my mind” gesture. ‘Prophet, what is this place? Who are these people?’

“...You’ve seen your own corpse among them, correct?”

Buddy nodded.

“I know you’ve met Joey, but tell me; ...Has he ever called you ‘Henry’ before?”

‘Yes he has, but what does that have to do with…’ he gestured at the bodies on the floor ‘this?!’

“Henry’s been gone for a long time now.” The prophet stated, but there was a hint of recollection in his tone that weakened the calmness, and the more he talked, the more broken (for lack of a better term) his voice became. “Do you think that you were Joey’s first replacement goldfish? That after Henry left the studio, you were Joey’s only other other Henry?”

Buddy’s ears began ringing and he heard music; it was loud, distorted, fast-paced, and all over the place, the type of music that makes your heart pound out of your chest and makes your hackles stand up, the type of music that tells you to run, but doesn’t clue you in to where or why. The prophet’s body started to shake and tremble.

“The first Other-Henry was actually named Henry as well. And like his predecessor, was an excellent artist who really connected with the characters...”

‘Sammy? What’s going on? do you hear this too?!’

“But unlike Stein, Ross was a very stubborn person who refused to let anyone push him around, especially by either Joey or myself. Surprisingly, I liked that man, but he didn’t last long...”

Fear kept Buddy’s legs frozen to the ground as he covered his ears in a fruitless attempt to muffle the music, it felt like it was being played directly in his head, and then it clicked when the whispers started up, whispers in their tone, but not in volume, they were loud enough to drown out parts of what the Prophet was saying;

‘Sammy help us!’

“The next one was more like you, a younger, less experienced and more skittish person, his first name was ‘Lawrence’ so everyone called him ‘Larry’ to avoid confusion...”

‘Sammy, where are you?’

“...But he was also too nosy for that poor boy’s own good.”

‘you’re too weak!’

“The one after that was a scatterbrained fellow, very passionate about his work but didn’t focus very much on one topic or another...”

The Prophet’s monologue was completely drowned out by the music and chorus of desperate and angry “Other Henries” at this point. Buddy knew he was still talking because of the musician’s gestures, but didn’t hear a single word out of him. 

‘Saaaaaammyyyyyyy....’ ‘You’re such a spineless coward...’ ‘Sammy please save us..!’ ‘Why did you let Joey kill us?’ ‘The ink... it’s so cold...’ ‘No wonder Susie hates you so much...’ ‘Sammy, please! It hurts!’ ‘Why did you let us die?’ ‘Why won’t you help us?’ ‘You’re no better than Joey.’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘I thought you loved me...’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘You promised me that you’d always be there!’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘They were right about you...’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘Saaaaaammyyyyyyy....’

He knew that the lost ones, searchers and Prophet could hear each others’ thoughts, but didn’t understand what that was like until now that he was hearing Sammy’s thoughts. No wonder most of them were always so depressed and on edge...

‘Sammy?’ the gofer shook Sammy gently, only to hear his own voice join the chorus of other Henries as one of the ones who sounded like he was mad at him. ‘Sammy, snap out of it!’ he shook the Prophet harder, still not waking the Ink creature out of its trance. ‘SAMMY!’ Doing the first thing that came to mind out of desperation, Buddy slapped the mask clean off of it.

The music and voices died as if they were a candle light snuffed out by the wind.

For a few seconds that felt more like hours, Buddy and Sammy stared at each other in silence before Sammy put its mask back on as if nothing happened and led the toon wolf out of the goldfish room, took a key out of its pocket and locked it behind them.

-----

Back in the safe house, Buddy started up a pot of bacon soup, the stuff tasted a little bit better when it was hot while Sammy tuned the banjo in the dining area and Dot tried to stir up conversation.

“So... how did the supply run go?”

“Fine.”

Buddy involuntarily let out a snort as he took the soup off the stove and took out his typewriter.

[It was the scariest one we’ve ever done so far.

While looking around for stuff, we ended up in this place S The Prophet called ‘the Goldfish room’ and it was filled with dead bodies. HUMAN dead bodies. And mine was in the pile! I couldn’t tell if it was haunted or if it was just the prophet’s thoughts going]

“Little wolf, I do not wish to think about that room again...”

[Sorry.]

The wolf sheepishly put the typewriter to the side and poured the soup into bowls. As the toon and lost one ate, the prophet mostly just stared into his bowl as if he was watching something in it.

“...Before my enlightenment, I was not a good person.” The masked musician stated unprompted.

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t an evil person per say, and I wouldn’t go as far as to call the man I used to be a monster.” He sighed and adjusted his mask. “But I was certainly a bad person, an asshole, a coward who hid behind physical strength, and I had more vices than virtues.”

[Prophet, what are you talking about?]

“I’m trying to answer the questions I know you have before either of you two pester them out of me. Maybe when you’re sated my Lord will allow me to forget again.”

[Are you sure? you seemed really upset back ...there.]

“Well look at it this way, maybe getting it off your chest will help you feel better about it?”

“I suppose...” The prophet sighed again.

“So what does you being a crackhead before finding the Ink Demon Religion have to do with a room full of dead bodies?”

“Dorthy!”

“...I’ll just listen before asking anything else.”

“Thank you.” It readjusted its mask. “Now where was I...” it hummed to itself for a bit before speaking again, with venom slowly but surly pooling into its words. “I had more vices than virtues, and Joey could see all of both, using my virtues to his advantage, and using my vices against myself, he did everything he could to keep me from leaving him too, and it worked.”

The prophet took in a deep breath to stabilize itself.

“Every time I tried to leave, he did something else to make me stay; ‘I love you’s turned to gifts, gifts to false promises, false promises to threats, threats to blackmail, blackmail to going through with it, and when he felt me slipping through his fingers he turned to taking advantage of my addictions... That... monster was a parasite in all aspects except physically... And I didn’t even notice until I might as well have been a walking corpse as I was seeing others march to my fate, but I couldn’t even so much as squeak out a warning without Joey swooping in on his behalf. Some Henries, heads of the art department, didn’t need to be warned by me as they found out what would await them and fled. But Joey didn’t like that... When I tried to warn the ones who needed to be warned, it was easy for him to dismiss me as a loon, a drunk, and an addict, until eventually I just gave up. I couldn’t even save myself, let alone anyone else... let alone the other art departments...”

“...I just stopped trying to keep Joey from leading the sheep to the slaughter, maybe they’re right to be angry at me for being such a coward...”

It then turned to face the wolf and put its hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve asked yourself if you’ve ever met me before the Ink had claimed me, as for that, I don’t know, nor do I think it matters, Buddy. I was nothing but a shallow and beaten husk of myself long before I even had tasted the ink. Even if you met me before then, you only met a ghost, not a person.”

The three then stayed in silence for a while before the clicks of Buddy’s typewriter caught the other two’s attention.

[Well, if it helps you any I think you’re not as bad of a person as you tell yourself you used to be.]

“And I don’t need to hear everyone’s thoughts to know that you’ve really stepped up to the plate when it counted. I don’t think a coward would try to do have the stuff you’re doing now.”

“Thanks you two” The Prophet’s voice cracked with emotion. “That... that really means a lot to me.”

[realm-sweet-realm]

Prison Cell, Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long- it got so long that I had to split it into two parts. Anyhow, from this point forwards, you can expect a lot of violence, so be warned. This chapter will have a lot of interpersonal stuff, and the final chapter will be pretty much entirely action.

---

Sammy unlocked the door. On the other side of it was a demon. The demon. The one that had stolen her blood.

Its body was humanoid and wearing a suit and white bow tie, but its hands were made of ink. The top of its head was covered in black ink, which spiraled up into horns and spilled down its face, leaving only its mustache, mouth and chin visible. Seeing it in the light for the first time, Susie recognized it as the bottom of Joey’s face.

“Joey?” Susie asked, her voice full of wonder and fear.

“Once,” the demon said, and its voice was not Joey Drew’s. It deep, and rough, and horrible. “But I have taken over. Don’t worry- I don’t want this any more than he does. Once I find a way to separate humans from ink, I’ll go back to my dimension and free all of you to yours.” The demon turned and beckoned Susie to follow him. “Come.”

The demon led Susie through the basement, seemingly one large room full of very strange things. Pentagrams littered the floor. Scattered iron cages contained a few emaciated, ink-covered people. Shelves full of sharp tools and unknowable ingredients lined the walls.

“I can still hear him, you know,” the demon mused, taking a syringe and a number of bottles from a shelf, “Joey. His mind. I can see into him. Learn how to manipulate humans. I asked him how to crush your insurrection, and he said that I’d need to destroy your little story.”

The demon led Susie to a door and opened it, and when he did, she lost all her breath.

It was Norman, chained to the far wall. He was wearing the same clothes he had been when he was taken away several weeks ago, but now they were hanging off of him at sharp angles. Susie ran to him, and he cringed away from her. He didn’t want her to see him like this, or to feel how thin and bony he’d gotten.

“What did you do him!?” Susie demanded.

“Nothing beyond the obvious. You see, you thought that some of you could overcome us with physical power. That was your story- that your hope and your resilience would lead to freedom. I needed to show you that rebellion only forces me to take your strength. This isn’t something I wanted to do. Strong, healthy people do better work, and unfortunately Joey’s desire to manage the studio is in me. But... you forced my hand.”

The demon then pulled Susie Campbell up by the collar, pushed her against the wall, and put the syringe to her throat.

“He can’t protect you now,” the demon explained, perfectly calm. “His ability to do so was always under my control, and you made me take it away.”

All Norman could do was bury his head in his hands and listen to her whimper. The chains were too short for him to reach her, and he didn’t stand a chance against the demon anyhow. Not like this. The demon released her blood into one of the bottles, then reinserted the needle, working at an unhurried pace. He repeated the motion several times before letting her go. She fell onto her hands and knees, faint from blood loss.

---

Utterly haunted, Sammy escorted the two sickly individuals back to the music room, carrying with him the two first-aid kits and a message that Joey had written. The second he entered the recording studio, The instruments went silent. A bassist got up from his instrument and tackled Sammy to the ground.

“Okay, someone get these two to the infirmary and look after them,” the bassist ordered, “And Johnny, get the rope. We have a loyalist to hang!”

“Wait!” Sammy cried, “I carry a message from your lord!”

“Can it! You let this happen to them. Why would we listen to your stupid ‘message?’”

Meanwhile, Jack Fain picked up the message from the ground and read it. “Guys! It says if three days go by without incident, they’ll release our prisoners! Let’s not do this. Please.”

The man who’d tackled Sammy got up, snatched the message out of Jack’s hands, and skimmed over it. “Huh. You’re right. Fine. Take him to the elevator and I’ll take this to Abby. Hopefully she’ll actually use it.”

---

Abby read over the letter.

To the upper levels,

A lot of violence has occurred between the upper and lower levels recently, so let me make myself clear: I do not want war, and no matter what level you come from, you should not want loyalists to die. Without our work, you would starve. I’m sorry to have done what I did, but I think you all needed a reminder of what’s coming for you if you keep interfering with our work. I do not wish to have to do this again.

Simply put, be peaceful, do what’s needed of you, and everything will be fine. As a final peace offering, I will release your prisoners three days from now if the rebellion stops entirely.

-Joey Drew

Abby knew the letter was full of lies. That thing wasn’t Joey, and it wasn’t forced to keep them here. She knew that the others knew that, too, and she knew that now that the upper levels had tasted hope, complete compliance would be even more impossible than before. This so-called war was going to happen sooner or later, so she needed to make sure they started at an advantage. She called on Henry to help her make a plan, and called everyone into the recording studio that night to announce it. Thankfully, it seemed to satisfy even the most rebellious of souls.

---

The door to Susie’s room opened, and Abby stepped in. Susie's eyes opened weakly.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry you had to miss the meeting tonight. Big things are happening, and I thought I’d let you know about them.”

“Okay,” Susie said.

“So... Joey, or, his demon, rather, has threatened to come down hard on us if there are any more signs of rebellion- and we both know that there will be. He also promised to release our prisoners if there are three days of good behaviour. So, I’ve decided that we’re breaking out the same night that our prisoners are released. The plan is for someone stealthy to go down there in the dead of night, steal the keys, and come back. After that, we’ll leave in groups of seven in order to sneak out of the portal. We’ll do it as quietly as possible, but we’ll also be packing axes and spears made from the knives you brought up. Hopefully there won’t be too many causalities.”

“Why seven?”

“We’re expecting to have ten injured people, and we’re not leaving anyone behind. There are going to be 68 of us in total, assuming that none of the prisoners died, you know, I thought that one per group would have the least chance of really compromising a group’s chances of escape. Plus, smaller groups will be quicker and quieter.”

Susie nodded.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ll be better by then. And Norman is fine, too, by the way. Well, physically. We looked him over and he doesn’t have any issues aside from the obvious. He won’t talk to any of us. I don’t know what that’s about. Maybe some kind of spell.”

Susie should have felt something in regards to that, but she was honestly too exhausted from the blood loss.

“Alright. I’ll let you rest now- but tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you about everything you saw down there- especially anything that might help me plan. Goodnight, Susie.” With that, Abby left.

---

The rebellion required planning, and management. Every axe was pulled off the walls and moved into Sammy’s sanctuary, along with the knives- just in case a loyalist decided to take them away one night. Two people guarded the elevator on each floor and at all times, and not to keep loyalists out. Loyalists were allowed right through, but any especially rebellious souls had to be kept from ruining their plan. Henry and Abby were busy planning the groups and drawing up an easy-to-follow map to the portal room. Every department head struggled to keep the remaining workers to their jobs. It seemed pointless for them to work jobs they’d quickly be fleeing from, but it was essential in order to keep suspicions to a minimum.

---

It was the night before the march. Most were turning in early, knowing that tomorrow, they would have to be on their guard well into the night. Susie had tried to do the same, but she couldn’t sleep. There was too much on her head. Too many factors that had to align if she was ever going to make it out. The horrifying possibility of facing the ink demon again if they failed. And her mind, despite there being there bigger fish to fry, kept going back to Norman, if they could ever have what they had once had again, and if Norman even wanted that anymore.

“Has Norman talked to you, yet?” Susie asked Grant once he entered their room. Since Norman hadn’t rejoined them, there was no real reason for them to still be roommates, but they’d stayed roommates anyhow, just out of habit.

“No. As far as I know, he hasn’t talked to anyone.”

“I saw him speak today. Wally wanted to help him carry something, and Norman snarled at him to back off. So, it’s not a spell- just mental stuff from being imprisoned. I wanna help him, but he won’t talk to me. Can you try?”

“Sure,” Grant said. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Susie said, biting back tears. “I just wanna know that he’s in a place where he’ll be able to handle things tomorrow. And... I know that this is the last thing that should be on my mind, but... can you ask why he’s avoiding me?”

“Oh, Susie. I...” Grant tried to find the words to comfort her. “I’ll talk to him.” Honestly, it didn’t seem like Norman was the only one who had to pull themselves together for tomorrow night.

Norman wasn’t used to being pitied. Even as a kid, after all he’d been through, his adoptive family had known that he was a problem child who needed to be set straight before he got even bigger and his aggression became more dangerous. He’d never wanted pity, either, and now that he had it, he couldn’t say that his opinion on it had improved any. He never thought he’d miss his coworkers looking at him like he was a frightening beast. Though he did cut the long, greasy hair he’d grown while imprisoned as soon as he had the chance, he’d been half-tempted to just wash it and keep it, just to somewhat retain that beastly image.

Mostly, he wanted a way to cope. He wanted to talk with his sister, or go for a walk in the woods, or somehow get out of the sight of these people without isolating himself in one room. That had been what he was doing in his off hours- both because there was little else he wanted to do and because he didn’t have the stamina he used to. It wasn’t Susie’s room. Honestly, he’d been too scared to even look at her.

Norman knew of the plan. Honestly, it had happened so quickly after he was released from his imprisonment that it was a little hard to take in. Yes, late tomorrow night, he and everyone else would end up escaping or die trying, and Norman would either reunite with his sister and put his life together from there, or it would be the end of him. It was happening, but it didn’t seem real.

There was a knock at his door. Norman pulled himself up and answered it. It was Grant. Well, out of everyone in the studio it could have been, Grant was the most tolerable.

“Hey, Norman. You... wanna play some cards?” There was a little pity in Grant’s voice. Thankfully not too much.

Norman ushered Grant into the room. They sat down on the floor, and Grant started shuffling the cards.

“So, you ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess. Kind of hard to believe it’s happening.”

Grant’s face lit up. “You’re talking!”

Norman shrugged. “It’s easy when it’s you."

“Uh, thanks. Do you want talk about... you know, what’s happened?”

“No,” Norman said, and the two played cards in silence for a while before Norman spoke up again. “Is Susie okay?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be strong enough to make it out, assuming the plan goes well.”

Norman’s face was unreadable. “Good." A long pause. “Y’know, she’s childish, and shallow, and stupid. But she was impressed with me because I was strong and I could protect her. And so, you know, she was pretty, and we did... things together. I thought that could be all it was, but she was sweet and kind to me and I went and caught feelings for her. Of course, shallow attraction based on one thing won’t last now that I look like starving stray dog, but whatever. So long as she’s okay. She’s a good girl. So long as she’s okay.”

Grant just stared at him. “Have you... looked her in the eye recently?”

“What?”

“Uh, sorry. It’s just that you’re usually so good at figuring this kind of thing out that it borders on the supernatural, and right now, you’re really, really wrong. This entire, organized rebellion started with her trying to put together a rescue team for you. She wanted to be the first one down in loyalist territory, for you. She’s actually the one who sent me, because she’s worried about how you’ll do tomorrow.”

With the last line, Norman’s face went from appreciation and disbelief to twisted anger. “For God’s sake! Joey didn’t cut my fucking legs off!”

“Well, she can’t know how well you’re doing if you avoid her. Look, if you aren’t up for it, I can go back and try to comfort her, tell her you’re fine.”

“No. No. I’ll do it. And I’m sorry that I’m not my most pleasant right now.”

Grant smiled. Nothing ever changed- the best way to get Norman to do anything was to offer to do it for him. Susie slept in Norman’s arms that night, knowing it could be their last chance to be together.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Sammy’s and Normans first kiss?

I don't usually poke at these sorts of themes, but fair warning: This is slightly NSFW due to a few "wandering hands" on Sammy's part.

Summary: If there's anything that Norman regrets, it's his and Sammy's disaster of a first kiss...

---

     Susie's and Sammy's messy breakup over the replacement of Alice Angel's voice actress role had taken an even bigger toll on the studio than anyone could have ever imagined. Morale had already been low with the steady increase of workload, and the stress of overclocking to chug through the narrowing time frames between deadlines. So having both Sammy Lawrence and Susie Campbell, two of the most outspoken and loud folk in the studio, in such low spirits really had an impact on the other employees.

Sammy took it out on people, his fragility making his temperament unstable to the point lashing out felt like an easier way to cope than to deal with his emotional turmoils head on.

Susie resorted to pettier methods. Decreasing morale with rumors and cruel gossip, and overall making any voice over roles she got (the very same low grade background characters she'd begun with) a nuisance to get done if just to make Sammy's life more difficult. This in turn, fed the perpetual cycle of anger and frustration that permeated the recording booth.

Susie was gaslighting Sammy, and Sammy was verbally assaulting people in retaliation. All of this generated by Joey Drew "accidentally" sending everyone but the intended employee a memo detailing sensitive information regarding their work.

Truly, Norman was at his wits end from pure exasperation over Drew's tactics to keep the studio under his iron grasp. He knew the sort of dangerous game that devil of a man was playing, and he hated how easily everyone fell into place.

Above all, he hated what Joey was slowly shaping both Sammy and Susie into.

     Back in Louisiana Norman had a particular childhood bully who was the ringleader of the bigger meaner kids in town. He was a scrawny meek looking boy with a devious spark in his eye. A thinker instead of a go-getter.

That boy had made Norman's life a living hell, up until his growth spurt came in (he'd been a late bloomer so that had been a good 15 years under that little hellion's tyrannical grasp). Once Norman became bigger than his bullies, that clever bastard had tried buttering up to him. Get him nice and friendly so he'd fall in line with the rest of the thugs.

Once Norman 'kindly refused', he'd instead tried to make him look bad to the rest of the neighborhood. Not too hard, considering he'd always been a bit of a sneak, but honestly he'd never much minded what others thought.

Norman was the weird kid with the crazy eye, and the lightest feet in town. He could sneak up on the feral cats that lived in the overgrown playground without getting heard, and he was the kid that knew sign language because one day his hearing was going to go because he was born with something inherently wrong with his ears. He was also the kid that woke up at 5AM sharp to run training drills with his old man and his siblings.

Nothing the little jerk could do or say had ever made much of an impact on his reputation. Then one day of course his little sister came in missing a braid and his little brother had a split lip. That day Norman beat the shit out of that hellspawn and got in trouble for standing up to his bully.

That's what Drew was doing. Pulling all sorts of cheap manipulative tactics that were slowly shaping the people he employed into being predisposed to doing whatever he felt like.

Be it light threats hidden in passive aggressive comments, invitations to lunches or dinners where he'd test his boundaries of control over certain situations like who paid the bill or what sort of seed of doubt he could implant in someone's brain, or even feed the fires of someone's ire by meddling with their relationships.

By doing this to Sammy, especially, Joey was destroying his reputation as a respectable musician. The blond music director may be unreasonably unsociable, but that did not affect the quality of his work in the least. If anything Sammy seemed to work better under a more private setting.

Now that he was the focus of scrutiny and that people were constantly intruding upon his given workspace however, things were blurring. Professional and personal life had mixed and Joey was purposefully poking a sleeping bear to maintain control over the only composer he knew he could effortlessly keep under his control.

If Sammy so much as tried to quit, the damage of his current behaviors would ensure he'd never be employed ever again, and then where would he go from there when he had bills and rent to pay, and another mouth to feed?

Susie too was at risk.

She'd taken the hit so badly that she was actively fighting her employer and superior by behaving in an almost childish way in protest over being personally wronged. By demeaning her own work she was risking one of Joey's infamous blacklistings from the working industry. Who'd hire a difficult broad that thought she ran the show?

No one, that's who. Not in this overly masculine society.

     20 years ahead of both in experience, Norman was well and truly concerned. Both of them weren't bad people. They were fine adults with their whole life ahead of them if they played their cards right and sorted their emotional bullshit before snakes like that devil Drew got them cornered like mice in a maze. They were also both very competent and passionate about their work (which honestly was very attractive to him).

Obviously they weren't getting it on their own, so he had to stir them towards the right path somehow. A little nudge.

If only things weren't so hard in this damn studio… Getting to Susie was complicated considering she was avoiding people. And Sammy? Well, Sammy had some concerning vices.

  "He's been drinking." Jack had taken Sammy under his wing a while back. Norman knew how much the lyricist cared for his coworker and friend, so the pain in his voice was palpable. "He's hardly himself anymore. He's resorting to racist comments and shouting matches because he can't come up with any real reason to put people down, and I caught Wally straight up crying in the bathroom the other day because Sammy made fun of his spots to the point he couldn't take it anymore."

  "Miss Campbell ain't doin' no better. Word is she pitched a mighty tantrum ta other day in ta booth." At least that's what he'd witnessed while doing his usual rounds. "Sammy threatened ta write her up so Joey would fire her."

  "Don't remind me… I was conducting the band while Sammy helped Miss Pendle, and then Susie just barged in!" Jack ran a hand over his tired face, looking a decade older than he actually was. Just from how frustrated the situation left him. "I'm losing my best friend Norman… If this keeps up I won't be able to stand Sammy. Wally feels just about the same with Susie. They're hurting everyone around them and they don't care because they're so caught up on attacking each another…"

  "They is more stubborn than a mule in ta field. Ain't nothin' I could say that could fix what Drew's meddlin' has done, but I could sure try ta call them ta reason." He muses. "I've had ta knock some sense into Sammy before. Could use the reminder..."

  "You're not gonna hit him are you? Norman you could get fired…" Jack looked concerned at this.

  "N'aw. Drew don't care, I roughed him up before and our 'kindly boss' didn't give a rat's ass 'bout his wellbeing." Norman stated. "Henry sure did give me an earful tho…"

  "Who…?"

  "An old friend… Anyhow, can't hurt ta go see Sammy 'bout his deplorable behavior. You know where he gone off to?" Norman dismissed the question with a smile.

Jack shrugged at him in reply.

  "You could try his office. Unless you know where he holes himself up, then he's probably there." The shorter of the two men fixed his bowtie and grabbed his hat from the hanger at the door. "Please go easy on him… It's not his fault."

  "Don't excuse him being a right pain to everyone else."

  "No, but you wouldn't blame a wounded dog to bite when cornered would you?"

  "That's what a muzzle is for."

Not that a muzzle would work on Sammy's sort of breed. He was not one to be silenced so easily in his pain.

Subdued… Maybe, if he had a couple of glasses of that yummy bravery juice and an ear to badger. He wasn't a wordsy man in the sense that he could elaborate what he felt. He was more the word vomit type that said what he felt in bursts. Not very articulate but definitely trying to show what was going on in that confused head of his.

Silencing Sammy was not worth the effort. It'd only make the situation worse. At best, Norman hoped to get him talking after knocking him about just a little.

It never occurred to him that he'd end up doing something else entirely.

     Jack hadn't been kidding. The kid had indeed been drinking, and god the smell of whiskey in his office was overpowering. It came off thicker than Sammy's cheap cologne, and it definitely reminded him of his Pepaw's bootlegging days. The sharp smell of alcohol and a man's bitter tears beneath the dense musk of despair.

Norman crinkled his nose in displeasure as he watched the wiry frame of the blond music director draped over his desk like some twisted puppet that had its strings cut off abruptly. A soft noise made him roll his good eye, wondering when Sammy had fallen so far from grace to the point he was openly snoring in his office like he didn't care about his reputation.

He walked closer, half ready to slap him awake when he realized the noises weren't snores. More like keening whimpers. Soft and throaty, just barely contained.

Then he really scrutinized what the kid was doing. Left arm cushioning his head, while the other was… Oh.

  "Fuckin' Christ Sammy…"

The other's flushed face turned to look at him with a jump, his hand still stuck in his pants, and his eyes just barely focusing.

The wretched smell of alcohol and sweat were already an indicative of his state of inebriation. The lack of shame in his actions, another indication.

But then it was the way he was staring up at him that really gave Norman a scope of just how shitfaced Sammy was.

  ".........S'dat you Norms…?" Speech slurred and bleary eyed. Drunk as an Irishman on Saint Patty's, or a German man on Oktoberfest. This was not a dignified way to find the ornery composer. If anything Norman felt wrong intruding on… Whatever this was. A pity wank?

  "I… should come back later." He was not dealing with this.

  "No!" Sammy reached out for him. "S'day. S'ged'ing lon'ly…"

The taller of the two froze and bit his lip in discomfort. He was not staying to watch Sammy jack off, there was no way in hell. He'd seen Piedmont enough times to warrant a restraining order if the man ever found out what he'd been up to while hiding in the walls. He wasn't going to perv on someone 20 years younger than himself. That was just wrong... As hypocritical as that may sound.

  "I really should let yous finish that…" he tried to back off, but the other clearly wasn't getting it. Counting bottles, Norman could guess why exactly that was. Just how much had Sammy drank?

  "Pl'ase. S'day… D'n't wonna… D'n't feel good all al'ne…" Sammy sniffled loudly. Still reaching out for him with his unoccupied hand. The other was still very much preoccupied down south, from what he could tell in the dark.

  "Sammy Lawrence I am not watchin' you pleasurin' yourself like some deviant! That ain't right!" Hypocrite, the little voice in the back of his mind hissed. You would.

  "Why no'd…? You cute…" Had he… had Sammy just called him cute? A man twice his age and well outside the whole petit brunettes sort he liked? "Big an' han'some… You cou'd brea' me… I'd let's you…"

This was… this was not what he imagined when he'd come to confront Sammy. That hungry, lustful look under the drunken stupor. The way he wasn't even trying to hide his pleasure as he unapologetically stroked himself while speaking to Norman.

An open invitation. It evoked something the older of the two men had been trying to bury for a while now. Desire. A desire that was certainly making his own trousers feel a tad constrictive.

But he couldn't. Not like this. Sammy wasn't in the right state of mind for this.

As if reading his mind, the blond stumbled forward. The projectionist backed up once more to avoid his grasp, but found his back colliding with the office door. Closing it and cornering himself in the process.

Sammy breached his personal space and put a hand to his chest. Norman tensed under his touch, watching transfixed as the composer felt up his pecks in clear adoration. Adoration. Sammy Lawrence was showing something other than annoyance towards him and it felt like he was watching the man being enlightened in some way.

  "So strong…" He felt himself swallowing around a thick lump in his throat as Sammy's purrs got to his groin rather quickly. "So han'some…"

Norman's good eye went back to the fiddling hand, just barely able to see what was happening beneath fabric. Then he felt Sammy's exploring touch lower until it rest between his legs.

  "So big…" The blond whispered seductively before he pressed their lips together in a bid to get what he wanted. Get what both wanted. The taste was both vile and tempting. So hard to push away... But Norman knew it was inherently wrong to exploit.

  "Ok that's enough a' this charade!" He grabbed hold of Sammy's shoulders and pushed him off, ignoring the painful ache between his legs that begged for the music director's hand to return. "Yous don't just go feelin' up a fella's package you damn twit! If I was one o' them homophobes I woulda beat yous black an' blue for this! Ya gotta be smart Sammy, or yous is gonna end up dead one o' these days!"

The blond stared up at him in confusion and mild shock, clearly unhappy about the rejection. He pulled his hand out of his trousers and just stared at him with that semi unfocused gaze that was slowly gaining a bit of clarity as time progressed.

  "... Did… I do bad…?" His confusion soon turned into frustrated anger "Why m'I never good 'nough?!"

  "Sammy what are ya hollerin' 'bout?"

  "M'I ugly? W'y s'everyone got'a leave?!" Sammy stalked back over and pushed Norman against the door, clearly ready to blow up out of anger. "M'I not good 'nough for you?!"

  "Sammy…"

  "J'ust wonna feel! Feel good!" The music director looked him in the eye, practically begging. "Wonna feel good! Pl'ease! Ju'sh wonna feel loved!"

  "Wouldn't be right… you're drunker than a skunk… ain't right kid. Please see reason…" He pleaded, honestly pleaded with the distraught man. 

To his credit, it sort of worked. Sammy cried out in anger and shoved him a few more times against the door for good measure, before collapsing into a crying heap. All Norman could really do was kneel down and try to comfort him.

  "J'us wonna m-matter…"

  "Damn it Sammy… You do matter." He held him closely, feeling bitter about the circumstances behind the gesture. "Yous don't gotta offer yourself up like this ta feel like you do…"

Rather than reply, Sammy sobbed and clung to him for dear life. Letting all the pent-up heartbreak out.

The games Drew played… they had an impact that Norman truly despised. Ones that lead people into the brink of desperation. Sammy was already a casualty of it, Susie not far behind.

That night Norman took it upon himself to take Sammy home, not trusting the kid to be able to go on his own. He practically carried him all the way, making sure to go through less frequented streets to conserve some of the dignity the music director had left.

Knocking on the door and having to explain to Sammy's sister that he was out of it was... Distressing. That girl may be a ray of sunshine, but the obvious disapproval behind Abigail's eyes was colder than ice.

They'd been at odds recently, the two siblings, because of just how badly things were spiraling.

Abigail wanted Sammy to leave the studio, find something else to do that didn't take such a toll on his mental health. Sammy refused, out of pride and fear for what Drew might do to sabotage him.

Norman found that this was another thing he couldn't exactly fix. Wherever that devil of a man looked, a strange taint followed. Even something as pure as a sibling bond, or a kiss.

And god, did Norman regret that damn kiss.

What a fucking mess.

[dragonkeeper19600]

BATIM Lore from Dreams Come to Life

I ordered that Dreams Come to Life Bendy novel from Amazon. I’m a fast reader, and the book is clearly intended for a younger audience, so I was able to finished it in less than a day. I don’t see a lot of BATIM fans talking about this book, and it doesn’t come up all that often when people are formulating theories. This in spite of the fact that the book actually answers a lot of the mysteries surrounding the Ink Machine, the studio, the characters, etc. The novel is basically a prequel set in 1946 that tells the story of a recent hire to the studio and what he experiences there.

So, I’ve decided to make a quick compilation of what the book reveals about the game’s setting and characters. 

Obviously spoilers below:

Thomas Connor and Allison Pendle are strongly implied to be a couple. Thomas shows up to a party with Allison on his arm, and the two are very intimate with each other in general.

Wally is the only janitor working in the whole building.

There are several women working in the studio - more than the young male protagonist expected - and a few are even in higher management positions. The then current head of the art department is a woman named Abby Lambert. Dot, a female writing intern, explains that many women were hired in the studio during WWII while the men were overseas. When the war ended, rather than fire the women and give the men their jobs back, Joey kept the women on staff. Some of the male employees were so irritated by this they walked.

That said, there are a few moments where Joey expresses sexist ideals, saying that “women don’t really understand business” when Abby Lambert objects to wasting art supplies and showing favoritism to Buddy, the protagonist, because he “reminds him of himself” (in other words, he’s a young, white-passing man).

For a long time, Bendy was held behind a locked door in the music department. It’s Buddy who lets him out. Buddy’s narration describes hearing an insistent whining sound, like that a dog that wants to get out would make, before he opens the door.

Susie is no longer working at the studio by 1946. Allison and Norman make a few comments about “poor Susie” but don’t elaborate on what happened to her.

Henry created Bendy, Boris, and Alice Angel. However, Alice Angel didn’t make her debut until after Henry left.

Joey is still really sore over Henry walking. He rants to Buddy about how “betrayal” is the biggest enemy to personal success. He also calls Buddy “Henry” as he’s saying this.

Linda is Henry’s wife. Henry quit because the long hours at the studio were too demanding for the relationship. (Henry’s reasoning was hinted at by Joey’s speech at the end of Chapter 5 of the game.)

Joey’s main MO is to hire talented people and then take credit for their accomplishments. He lets people think he created Bendy, obtained the patent from the Ink Machine from Thomas Connor, and got violently angry when Thomas tried to get it back.

Norman mentions that the studio did well for a while after Henry left, but Joey has been putting a strain on finances with frivolous spending on the Bendyland Park, the Ink Machine, throwing huge parties, etc.

Bendy’s heyday has already passed by the time Buddy starts working at the studio. Buddy vaguely recognizes Bendy’s image when he first arrives but can’t quite place him. Buddy partially blames this on his family’s economic status making them unable to afford movie tickets, but Joey seems deeply hurt that Buddy doesn’t know who Bendy is.

I’m gonna tell you how Buddy meets Sammy because it’s one of my favorite scenes. The book tries to play it for horror, but I couldn’t help laughing because it’s just Classic Sammy ™:

So, Buddy was hired by Joey kind of on impulse as a gofer. On his first day, he’s asked to deliver something to the music department. He gets lost and ends up in the recording studio. There’s nobody there except a single, creepy violinist.

All of a sudden, Sammy comes tearing into the room covered head-to-toe in ink. It is everywhere. He’s so slathered in it that Buddy can’t tell that he’s looking at a person at first. He responds to Buddy’s offer for help with “My eyes!” Because the ink is in his eyes.

It’s shortly revealed that one of the ink-filled pipes was running through the closet where they keep sheet music. Sammy apparently went to the closet and got drenched when the pipe burst on him. Sammy also pulls a shard of glass out of his own head, which leads me to think that maybe he banged his head into the pipe hard enough to shatter it.

The book also goes into some detail about what Sammy’s corruption process was like. Buddy mentions in his narration seeing black stains on Sammy’s gums after the burst pipe. It turns out Sammy accidentally swallowed some of the ink. In a very disturbing monologue toward the end of the book, Sammy mentions how he could “feel [the ink drops] moving around inside me.” The ink in his system triggered a craving for it, so he proceeds to slam down bottles of ink like cans of Fanta. I’m totally serious. Buddy actually catches him drinking a bottle while at his music stand. He fucking empties all the bottles in the closet and then begins pestering Thomas and Abby for some of theirs. 

We don’t actually see him transform since he goes missing for several days. It turns out he’s been hiding in the studio all that time. When we run into him again in the climax, he looks like he does in-game. 

The Ink Machine changes ordinary, store-bought ink into what Buddy calls “Bad Ink” that has a number of supernatural properties. Among these:

Pictures drawn with it will move across the page. I don’t mean like a Harry Potter-style moving image, I mean the drawings themselves will slide off the page as though being dragged by a mouse in Photoshop.

The ink will actively seek out people and attempt to flow into their orifices.

As we see with Sammy, getting some into your body will trigger a craving for more.

Sammy is convinced that the ink moves according to Bendy’s will. He believes that the ink sought him out and helped forge some kind of psychic bond with Bendy. However, as we see in the game, Sammy isn’t as good at predicting what Bendy wants as he seems to think.

Joey seems to believe that being submerged in ink long enough will cause a person to lose their soul. Joey only wants “good, real” souls (his own words) to reanimate through the Machine.

Henry isn’t the first person Sammy has tried to sacrifice to Bendy. Sammy grabs a few other employees, ties them up, and coats them in ink, apparently in order connect them to Bendy. Among the kidnapped employees: Norman Polk. 

In addition to its constant production of Bad Ink, the Ink Machine can also reanimate the souls of the recently dead into living toons. 

At the end of the novel, Buddy drowns in the ink, but Joey apparently got to him in time to resurrect him into Boris. It’s heavily implied that Buddy is the Boris Henry befriends at the end of Chapter 2 of the game.

Buddy implies on several occasions that he is now sharing a mind with Boris. When he first wakes up after being reanimated (tee-hee!), he is alarmed at first to find himself existing in three dimensions instead of two. Buddy has a hard time telling if certain basic needs, such as hunger, are coming from him or Boris and mentions that Boris “starts to whine” when Buddy “asks himself too much,” adding: “We don’t like it.”

Buddy’s senses are now enhanced to those of a wolf. He can smell better, hear better, and has better night vision. However, he is also incapable of speech. He can understand himself just fine, but all the human characters can hear is a series of growls and barking noises. 

Buddy is apparently losing his mind to Boris’s. Boris’s mind isn’t in an antagonistic relationship with Buddy’s; he just seems along for the ride. Even so, Buddy finds that his memories are fading and his emotional needs are growing simpler. The book is framed as a memoir he’s writing while living in the studio, and there are a few occasions when he forgets what the book he’s writing is and has to remind himself. This is consist with Sammy’s dementia-like behavior during the Hot Topic Q&A, where he showed signs of memory loss and struggled to stay on-topic, sometimes forgetting what he was talking about mid-sentence.

Finally, appearances:

Allison Pendle is platinum blonde and as gorgeous as a movie star. Buddy can’t understand why she’s into voice work instead of being on camera.

Sammy is described as being bony and angular (like a bird). He also wore those same suspenders before his corruption.

Bertrum Piedmont is described as big and burly.

Norman has bushy eyebrows.

Buddy never really describes Thomas Connor, only mentions that he usually looks elegantly dressed. It is, however, implied that Thomas is POC in the following exchange:

Sammy: “Tom, come on, why would I want your ink?”

Tom: “It’s Mr. Connor.”

Sammy: “Why can’t I call you Tom?”

Tom: “Because we’re not friends. And you will give me the respect I deserve.”

[long pause]

Tom: “What’s wrong, Mr. Lawrence? Not used to giving someone like me respect?”

Sammy: “What’s that mean, ‘someone like you’?”

Tom: “You know what it means.”

[queenofcats17]

If your taking writing prompts, how about one where Henry walks Grant home from work one night? (Can be written as platonic or romantic for Grant x Henry.)

Yeah, sure! I’ll do it for a platonic relationship.

Featuring @insane-control-room‘s OC Sori, who I adore.

————————————————————-

Grant, Henry, and Sammy were some of the worst workaholics at Joey Drew Studios. Sammy had Susie and Jack to keep him from overworking himself too much, which meant it fell to Grant and Henry to keep each other from collapsing. They checked in on each other, made sure the other had eaten, made sure the other went home at a reasonable time. They looked out for one another. They both did this for Sammy as well, but Susie and Jack usually beat them to it, so they mostly just did it for each other.

Which was exactly what Henry was doing that night.

It was a little after 6, which meant that it was time for everyone to clock out and head home. It was a Friday, so most of the other employees had already clocked out, eager to start their weekend. Henry was headed down to Grant’s office to make sure Grant was about to clock out. Grant had been working a lot of overtime that week and Henry wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to try and work overtime that day too.

“Knock knock,” Henry said, opening the door to Grant’s office. “It’s time to clock out.”

“I’m almost done, just give me a minute,” Grant replied, nose still buried in his paperwork.

“You can save it for Monday.” Henry crossed the room, putting a hand on Grant’s shoulder. “You’ve been working a lot of late nights this week, Grant. You deserve a break.”

Grant began to protest, only to have his words cut off by a yawn. Henry stifled a laugh behind his hand.

“Alright, I guess you have a point.” Grant couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Give me a second.”

He put away his work and put on his coat. Together, he and Henry clocked out and began to walk home.

“Sori will be happy you dragged me out of the studio,” Grant said as they walked. “She’s been pretty angry at me for working late all this week.”

“Well, you do work way too hard sometimes,” Henry replied, slinging an arm around Grant’s shoulder. “It’s only natural she’d be upset about you pushing yourself too far.”

“That’s true.” Grant laughed wearily. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

There was silence for a moment or two while they walked, then Grant added, “I’m glad I’ll be able to have dinner with her tonight.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to have dinner with you too,” Henry agreed, patting Grant’s back.

“And Linda will be happy to have dinner with you.” Grant directed a smirk Henry’s way. Immediately, Henry’s face went a bit red and he withdrew his arm.

The two of them were both equally guilty of working too hard and forgetting their wives. And they were both equally guilty of feeling incredibly bad afterward.

“I guess that was me calling the kettle black, huh?” Henry laughed.

“Maybe.”

There was another lapse of silence, the two of them walking side by side, before Grant spoke once again.

“Are you and Linda coming over for Passover this year?”

“If it’s alright with you and Sori,” Henry replied.

“I wouldn’t be extending the invitation if it wasn’t alright.”

“Fair enough.”

Henry tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants, smiling to himself. “Well, I’ll look forward to it.”

The rest of the walk to Grant’s house was spent discussing plans and sharing updates about each other’s families. Henry’s daughter Ruth was in a school play, which meant Henry and Linda had been rather busy helping her learn her lines and make her costume. Grant and Sori, meanwhile, had been going on dates to museums when they had the time. Grant loved walking through the museum corridors with her. He loved spending any time with her, in all honesty.

Finally, they reached Grant’s house. The lights were on in the windows and Grant could see Sori’s silhouette on the other side of the curtains.

“Should I go now?” Henry asked.

“No, Sori will want to thank you.” Grant shook his head, already walking up to the door. Henry shrugged and followed.

Grant reached the door and knocked twice. The door didn’t open immediately as Sori made her way to the door. Then it opened and Grant was greeted with his wife’s face.

“Sora’le.” Grant’s face lit up upon seeing Sori in the doorway, backlit by the light coming in from the house.  

“You’re just in time for dinner.” Sori lit up as well at seeing Grant standing there.

“He was going to try and work late, but I told him he needed to go home,” Henry piped up.

“You’ve been working too hard this week.” Sori scolded Grant, although there was still softness in her expression.

“I know I know.” Grant nodded sheepishly.

“Well, get in here.” Sori gestured for Grant to come in. “I have soup ready.”

“Thank you.” Grant kissed her cheek and walked in, gingerly taking off his shoes before heading to the kitchen.

Sori turned to Henry. “Thank you for bringing him home,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” Henry smiled. “It was the least I could do.”

Then Sori went back inside and Henry departed for his own home.

[maximumsnow]

The Devil is in the Details

Fandom: Bendy and the Ink Machine

Characters: Boris, BATIM Oc, others are mentioned

Summary: Boris has seen this exact same piano so many times, he’s lost count, but when he comes by with someone new, something has changed. 

Author’s Note:  This happens in an AU, so keep that in mind. 

Over and over again, Boris would meet old friends, but no matter what, he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t tell them how to avoid the fates that they (and he) suffered. Most of them weren’t even aware of the repeats.

Henry was the only one who showed any indication that he knew, but even then, the world would shape itself to force him down the path he was supposed to go.

Before Henry, the Studio kept the same shape, regardless of who walked the hallways. It was thanks to this that Boris was able to notice that even when things were moved, certain details stayed the same.

Some of which were the pianos in the studio. For some reason, Joey had omitted the pedals, and never saw fit to fix that. Even though Sammy, the music director and first protagonist, had made a comment about it back when this madness first started.

Some of the other more musically minded people had also noticed the missing feature, but due to the Searchers that would always pop up near it, it was often too unimportant for them to think on. Not that Boris could blame them. They thought they were always in danger, and Joey never made a point to do anything with it.

When the newest protagonist was forced in, Boris was prepared for mostly the same story. There would be new elements, he was sure, but Joey was rather fond of the set pieces with Sammy and Susie. He was afraid of the pain, but in some ways, he already knew it was going to happen again.

It didn’t occur to him that the man who was the creator of the Ink Machine might not bend to the same rules.

When he met Reeve, it was after the man had been chased by Bendy, as usual for the story, but the longer he spent around Reeve, the more things felt different. Boris nearly jumped out of his chair when he laughed at something, and he made a sound instead of the wheezing chuckles that had been his norm.

He still couldn’t tell Reeve why Boris’s real laughter was so unusual, but it alerted Boris that something fundamental had changed in the story.

It wasn’t until they had sneaked back to the main music department area for some food when Boris noticed it.

Reeve had wandered back to the piano in the orchestra room, and he was just idly running his hands across the keys.

“I never got around to playing anything for you, did I?” Reeve asked, suddenly turning towards Boris.

The toon wolf’s jaw had dropped, and he was pretty sure his eyes were all but bugging out. His gaze was fixed to the center of the piano near the floor. A can of bacon soup comically dropped and rolled towards Reeve.

Confused, Reeve bent down to pick up the can and tried to hand it to Boris, but Boris was unresponsive.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” Fearful, Reeve reached towards Boris and tried to turn him around so that they could leave, but Boris wouldn’t budge.

Glancing around, Boris noticed some other tiny details that he had ignored before. Instruments were properly organized around the room, including the ones that would normally be too big to move on one’s own.

Joey never bothered with that much attention to detail with this room.

What changed?

There was only one thing that had changed that Boris knew of, and he was standing in front of him. Someone who knew how the room should be arranged, having had to move the instruments in and out with Boris’s help multiple times.

Boris shook his head to clear his thoughts and gave Reeve a smile in an attempt to calm his worries.

It worked, but like a mother hen, Reeve still reached up to touch Boris’s forehead while asking, “Are you sick? You spaced out there.”

This time, Boris promptly shook his head to respond to the question. Due to Boris still being mute, Reeve didn’t try prying verbally anymore, but Boris could tell that once they got back to the hideout, Reeve would try asking again while Boris had something to write on.

As they walked back, Boris was lost in thought. He wasn’t sure if he could explain. Reeve already knew more than most protagonists starting out, but he didn’t seem to be aware that his mere presence was altering the studio. Unless Joey was suddenly interested in the minutiae…

The mere thought nearly made Boris laugh. Joey “Big Picture” Drew never paid attention the details. It was only thanks to his employees that the company didn’t sink under trying to hold up his ideas. And for their efforts, he gave them this hell.

But if someone else could change the world from the inside, maybe there was hope for them.

[adobe-outdesign]

Re-Created: Chapter 4

After Joey passes away, Henry finds a way to make everyone look human again, one by one, using the Ink Machine. And this story is going to have a happy ending, even if he has to write it himself.

[Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6]

Allison sits down beside Henry, perching on the edge of an old crate. “Hey.”

Henry closes his eyes, burying his face in his hands. “I’m an asshole,” he mutters.

“I already talked to the Lost One for you. They’re going to stay at the hideout with us for a bit while they work on figuring out who they are.” Allison places a hand on his back sympathetically. “But that’s not the only reason why you’re upset, is it?”

Henry sighs, lifting his head. “I don’t know. I’m trying to help however I can, but I feel like I’m just making things worse.”

“Henry, you saved us.”

He closes his eyes again. “I was reading over Joey’s notes the other day. On his failed attempts, I mean. There are so many reports about the cartoons not being able to stabilize... it was just luck that you didn’t end up like Jack.”

“But we didn’t.” Allison pulls away her hand, staring out into the river of ink before them. “Henry, we’ve been trapped here for years. The only thing that was keeping me going sometimes was telling myself that things would get better. It doesn’t matter if you fail sometimes. You give people hope, and that’s all they need right now.”

Henry continues to stare out into the ink. “I feel like I’m no better than Joey.”

“Joey didn’t ask before killing people,” she reminds him.

“I guess.”

Allison stares at him for a moment, waiting for a further response. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Why did you come back?” Henry turns to her. “You said Joey was gone when you went outside. Why didn’t you just leave?”

Henry stares at the sketch lines on his hand. “I don’t look like a real person. I’d be arrested or something if I tried to leave.”

“That’s not what I mean. You could have just came here and lived peacefully with Boris in the safehouse for eternity. Instead, you start trying to help everyone. So I’ll ask again: Henry, why are you here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because you’re trying to fix Joey’s problems?”

Henry’s expression turns distasteful. “No. Joey’s problems are his own fault. Not mine.”

“So why are you here?” she demands. Henry stares at her as if about to argue, then stops, returning his gaze to the ink.

“I guess... I don’t care whose fault it is. I’d love to just stay with Boris, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t... sit there knowing everyone else was suffering.”

“So you’re not like Joey, after all.”

Henry finally smiles.

“No. I guess not.”

He slowly rises from the edge of the dock, running a hand through his hair. Allison gets up to stand by his side.

“So what’s the plan?”

“I’m going to find Jack and try again. It’s possible that the first time was just a fluke.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Henry crosses his arms, newfound determination in his eyes.

“Then we’ll keep trying.”

They had found Jack back down in the flooded sewer, moaning softly. He was no longer a bloated mass off ink, but instead resembled the average Searcher crawling through the halls. Still, the hat was unmistakable. 

Henry kneels by the edge of the sewer, putting the finishing touches on a new pentagram. Boris watches him nonchalantly, eating a can of soup he had found somewhere. If Sammy was there, he wasn’t interested in showing himself.

“That should do it,” Henry mutters, and the Searcher rears up at the sound of his voice. Henry walks into his line of sight and Jack drops back down onto his hands, starting to crawl forward. Henry slowly steps backwards, towards the symbol.

“That’s right. We’re going to try one more time, okay?” He knows the Searcher can’t understand him, but talking helps soothe his nerves.

Henry side-steps the pentagram when he gets to it, continuing backwards until he’s standing behind it. The Searcher continues to crawl forward with a rasping noise, unaware of the symbol. As Jack moves over it he looses shape and melts away, the hat staying whole for a second longer before also dissolving. Henry swallows the lump in his throat.

“C’mon, Boris. Let’s go say hi,” he says with more confidence than he feels. Boris nods, and together they run through the department, the distance feeling longer than usual. When they reach the garage Henry stops a few feet short of the door.

“Out of breath,” he mutters, which is a lie as he was fairly certain he didn’t need to breathe at all. In reality, he simply didn’t want to find out what had happened. If he stayed out in the hall, he could pretend everything had gone smoothly.

But the moment can’t last, and he forces himself to walk through the doorway.

Tom is standing by the machine. Allison is kneeling on the floor, hand on someone’s back as they cough violently. They have a hat.

Jack’s coughing fit ceases and he looks around the room in bewilderment. He was overweight with a round face, and Henry’s pretty certain he can see a large bald spot underneath of his bowler hat.

“What? Where is-?”

“It’s okay,” Allison soothes. “I’m Allison, and this is Tom and Henry.”

Henry steps forward, relief sweeping over him like a wave on a beach. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Henry. Henry Stein.”

“I’m...” Jack’s voice trails off as he frowns, staring into space. He shakes his head. “I’m Jack. Nice to meet you.” He squints. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“We can talk more after you’re rested,” Allison interjects. Henry shoots her a grateful look. “Do you feel okay?”

“I- I think so. Maybe?” He puts his hands over his ears and slowly relaxes, shoulders slumping. “It’s so quiet,” he whispers.

“Here.” Tom walks over, offering a hand. The lyricist takes it, unsteadily rising to his feet. “It’s a long walk back to our hideout.”

“It would be nice to get the infirmary up and running again,” Henry muses. “It’s only a short walk from Joey’s back door.”

“Well, right now it’s full of ink and broken beds,” Tom mutters. Jack leans against him for support, already being overtaken by exhaustion, and Tom grunts under the weight. “Now stop talking and start walking.”

Henry returns to the hideout with a box full of Joey’s employee records to find Jack already awake again, talking to the Lost One, who seems somewhat spooked by his presence. They stop when Henry comes in.

“Hey there,” the animator greets as he sets down the box. “You doing alright?”

Jack takes off his hat, running his hand through his thinning hair. “I mean, I think so. Allison filled me on on the details, so, y’know, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Henry taps the cardboard box. “I brought some stuff over from Joey’s. You can look through it and see if there’s anything about your life outside. If you want to, of course,” he adds quickly.

“Yeah, that sounds... good. Thanks.” Jack shifts his weight uncomfortably, looking away.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just... my mind...” The lyricist goes silent for a moment, thinking of how to word his concerns. “It’s like... back in the ink, there were lots of other people, and your thoughts and everyone else’s thoughts were all mixed together. So now there’s suddenly no one else, and it’s kind of terrifying. Does that make sense?”

“No, I get it,” Henry reassures.

“But it’s more than that. I remember lots of things, but I don’t think they’re my memories. Like, I remember kissing at least three different people’s wives. Which I would never do,” he adds quickly, seeing the expression on Henry’s face, “because I’m not into woman. Uh- those types of woman, I mean. And I’m already married.” He holds up his hand, which sports a shiny yellow ring as proof.

“I didn’t even think about that. I guess when someone’s pulled out of the ink, it just retrieves whatever memories you have at the time, even if they’re not yours.”

“I mean, it’s not a big deal. Anything’s better than that hellhole. I’m just... not really sure who I am right now, you know?” Jack gives a weak smile.

“If it helps, I don’t know anything about myself,” the Lost One offers. Henry forgot they were there for a moment.

“Speaking of which, Allison said she gave you a list of names to look over. Did you find any that feel right?”

“Maybe.” The Lost One gestures him over to the table, which is covered with several sheets of employee names and phone numbers. They point to one, a drop of ink falling from their finger and staining the paper. “Freddie Greenwalt,” it read.

“You sure?”

“I... no,” they confess. “But when I read that one, I got a flash of... something. It was the first time that’s ever happened to me.”

“As long as you’re happy with it. We can get you fixed up shortly, if that works for you.”

The Lost One nods. “Thank you,” they say softly.

“Henry,” Jack speaks up. “You said you wanted to get the infirmary up and running again, right? Because I’ve spent a lot of time there - head colds, you know. I was thinking I could go down there and clean the place up a bit, so everyone has somewhere to rest once they’re changed back. I could use something to do other than stare at the fish tank all day.”

“Sammy’s in that area a lot,” Henry warns. Jack just shrugs.

“I know his schedule. I won’t be down there when he’s down there.”

“Well if you’re okay with it, then it’s fine by me.” Henry turns his attention back to the Lost One, smiling. “Come on. You haven’t been outside yet.”

The next few weeks went by quickly. Freddie had turn out to be a young-looking person with short, dark hair who had wept uncontrollably after they had changed back. Afterward, they assigned themselves to assisting Jack with cleaning up the infirmary. Boris, when not playing cards with Henry, joined them in their scrubbing.

A few Lost Ones had slowly trickled in after Freddie, all equally anxious about the ritual. Each one was successfully recreated, with only a few minor deformities plaguing some of them. They hadn’t cared less.

“I thought there’d more of you,” Thomas had pointed out eventually. One of the Lost Ones, a quiet person with a deep voice, had spoken up.

“Sammy’s been preaching against you in his sermons. Anyone who would otherwise be interested is bein’ chased off by him.”

Thomas muttered something under his breath about Sammy being a bastard and left.

Henry, meanwhile, had found a message written close to their hideout, down close to the floor.

CAN YOU HELP US?

He hadn’t hesitated to respond.

YES

[scourgewins]

Mafia AU (Part 2.1)

(Chapter 2 has been a ride, folks! A ride that hasn’t yet ended! The second part of part two has yet to be completed, but I figured the first part was ready for public display, so here we are. I’m kind of nervous about the end result, but oh well; we’ll see how this goes.)

(Warnings: Guns, gunfire, hangover, mention of being drunk)

(Note: The song mentioned, “I’ll Be Seeing you,” was written by Sammy Fain (That name!) with lyrics by Irving Kahal. It’s been performed by many famous singers, such as Billie Holiday and Frank Sinatra. It’s a great song; I recommend it.)

It wasn’t that Sammy hated Henry’s side. Sure, Wally could be a pain sometimes, and Jack could be insufferable, but everyone else didn’t bother him. Henry was a good boss, if a little too lenient. The mob was efficiently run, and its men were highly capable. No, Sammy wasn’t a traitor because he didn’t like them, he just didn’t like them enough to stop spying on them for Joey.

Sammy sat up in bed, groaning slightly. His hangover was much better than it had been yesterday, but he still felt a dull ache just between his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sammy glanced about the sparsely furnished room. He’d spent the past two nights in Henry’s headquarters, being too hungover to walk home or report to Joey. Hopefully he won’t be too mad. Joey was a much stricter boss than Henry.

Maybe I’ll just lie and say they tightened security. Sammy reasoned, Joey might believe that.

Even in his hungover state, Sammy sensed the tension in the air. Everyone was waiting to see if Joey would attack. Sammy knew he probably would give some sort of demonstration of his power, but wasn’t sure how large scale it would be. As long as the bullets don’t hit me, I don’t care.

Pulling on his shoes, Sammy ran his fingers a few times through his long hair, before stepping into the hallway.

After showering and eating breakfast (which consisted of one can of bacon soup), Sammy felt almost normal. He descended down the stairs to the parlor. As he neared the bottom, piano music reached his ears, and he quickened his step.

Matt was sitting at the bench for the grand piano that nobody used except him and Sammy. The morning sun streaming through the window cast a pale light over him and the instrument. Matt was playing a wild tune, in an obvious attempt to relieve his stress. Sammy glanced toward the door. He wouldn’t be able to slip out to report to Joey till nightfall, so he might as well relax now.

He slid in beside Matt, who jumped, missing a note. The anxious musician turned to Sammy, before relaxing when he saw it was just his friend.

“Everyone’s so jumpy around here.” Sammy remarked.

“Yeah, well, it’s for good reason.” Matt replied, turning back to the piano, his fingers dancing along the keys, “None of us know when or if Joey will retaliate.”

Sammy looked down at the keyboard. Without even thinking about it, he began to play something in perfect harmony with what Matt was playing. Matt glanced at him, his solemn face lightening to give him a wan smile. The two musicians played their duet in perfect sync, years of practicing together taking hold. Sammy’s mind traveled back to the days when the two of them had performed at clubs together. It seemed a lifetime ago.

Without warning, Matt changed the key he was playing in, forcing Sammy to compensate. It was an old game they played, that had never grown old. Matt continued to randomly switch the key. Sammy missed a few notes, but for the most part was able to keep in harmony. At last, slightly breathless, Matt stopped.

“You’ve still got it.” He sounded more cheerful than before.

Sammy grinned, “I’ll never lose it.”

Matt smirked, resting his hands in his lap, “How’s your hangover?”

Shrugging, Sammy answered, “It’s not so bad anymore.” He knew what was coming next.

“I saw you when you came back the other night.” Matt’s smirk widened into a grin, “You were singing like a drunken sailor.”

Sammy rolled his eyes, pretending to be not at all embarrassed by the event, “I wasn’t that drunk.”

“I’ve seen you drunk before,” Matt continued, ignoring his friend, “but boy, were you drunk this time!”

Sammy pursed his lips, “Can we change the subject?”

“Nope!” Sammy nodded, understanding his plea would go unheeded. Knowing Matt, he’d probably find every possible way to bring this up for as long as he lived.

Or until I betray him. The thought snuck into Sammy’s mind and refused to leave. He knew Matt would one day discover Sammy had been betraying them, probably sooner than later. That was one of the snags in the plan. Sammy had no wish to betray Matt, but he was fine with betraying everyone else. Well, everyone else except Susie. She was the other snag.

Sammy tried to shake the guilt away; they didn’t know yet, so he might as well enjoy his time with them as long as he could. He quirked an eyebrow at Matt, “You’ve been plenty drunk before, too.”

“Yeah, except I could still walk and talk sensibly. Lacie had to drag you back while you babbled like a baby.”

Sammy opened his mouth to counter, but realized he had nothing to say, so instead crossed his arms and glared disgruntledly down at the keyboard. His friend seemed to sense he’d won this round of teasing, and began to play the piano again, humming contentedly. It was difficult for Sammy to remain angry when there was music to be played, so he soon joined in, and the two resumed their game, though this time Sammy changed the keys and Matt had to keep up. “I thought I heard you two making a racket down here.”

The lilting, slightly flirtatious voice Sammy knew well came from right beside his ear, and the musician felt his muscles tense as his face grew hot, his fingers stilling on the piano. Looking up, he saw Susie standing beside him, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes.

Matt glanced up, “You call it racket, we call it music.”

The singer glanced at Matt a moment as he spoke before her attention returned to Sammy, “Oh? Well, I think it could use some vocals, right Sammy?”

Sammy felt his heart rate speed up as he met her gaze. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Susie grinned, “Perfect. Play something I know.”

Sammy exchanged a glance with Matt, “How about ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’?”

Matt nodded, “I’ll lead.”

He shifted his seat on the piano to better reach the keys he needed. Sammy did the same, and Matt began to count. Susie cleared her throat.

“1,2,3,4-”

“Hey, Susie!”

The one note Sammy had managed to get in died out as the musician cast his gaze up to the ceiling, inhaling deeply. Jack sauntered up to them, a rifle slung over one shoulder.

Susie turned to look at the newcomer, something flashing in her eyes, “Hello, Jack.”

Jack surveyed the three of them, “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like we’re doing, genius?” Sammy huffed. Jack glared at him and Sammy returned the glare with equal vehemence.

“Are you going on sentry duty?” Matt’s question did little to break the tension.

Jack glowered at Sammy a second more before turning to Matt, “Yes. Bertrum and I are to relieve Winona and Lacie. Security has had to be much more vigilant ever since that incident at the speakeasy.” Jack’s gaze switched back to Sammy.

Sammy ground his teeth at the accusatory tone, “Shawn and Wally started the fight. I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t help anything, either.”

“Jack,” Matt sighed, “Why don’t we just move on from the whole event, huh?”

Matt was being a real hypocrite right now, but Sammy knew he was just trying to diffuse the situation, which Sammy was not grateful for; he could fight his own battles.

“I would,” Jack said, “Except Joey is going to attack us if we ‘just move on’.”

“Well, shouldn’t you get outside, then?”

Jack crossed his arms at Sammy, “I’m waiting for Bertrum.”

“And I’m sure Joey will patiently wait for Bertrum, too.”

Susie cut Jack off before he could counter, “Why don’t you head out before Sammy starts something?”

Jack’s gaze softened as he turned to Susie, “I can handle myself, don’t worry.”

The singer’s lips pursed, and Sammy knew that was not the reason why she’d asked, “I know, but… I’d… feel better if you didn’t.”

Jack nodded, “Anything for you, Ms. Campbell.” Sammy could almost see Susie trying not to roll her eyes.

“I’ll be off, then.” Jack shot one last glare at Sammy before heading for the door-

Bullets crashed through the windows, the glass shattering in dazzling fragments. The wall sprouted tiny holes as the unseen pellets whizzed past. None of this had time to register in Sammy’s mind before Susie was tackling him and he was falling into Matt, the three crashing to the floor in a heap. Jack screamed, but Susie’s hair obstructed Sammy’s view so that he could not see if the poet had been shot or not. The roar of the gunfire blended with the sound of bullets whistling through the air to form a deadly, seemingly endless cacophony.

Then the firing ceased, as suddenly as it had started. All was quiet except for the sound of screeching tires rapidly receding. Sammy’s heart was hammering in his chest, pounding in his ears. He felt frozen where he lay.

The first to move was Susie, who pushed herself off the two musicians. Sammy’s muscles seemed to thaw, and he crawled off of Matt, rising warily to his feet. Matt inhaled deeply before following suit.

Jack lay curled up on the ground in front of the door, his arms thrown up around his head to protect himself. Matt was the first to move over to him, descending on one knee.

“Did they get you, Jack?”

Jack remained curled up, but said, “I don’t know. Did they?” His voice quavered.

Matt looked the poet up and down, “I think you’re good.”

A sigh sounded from somewhere within the curled up ball, “Good.”

Sammy and Susie moved over to them, and Sammy surveyed the bullet marks on the wall. They were in a messy bunch about four feet off the floor. As Sammy followed the trail, he saw them suddenly rise steeply, above the door, before dying off on the other side of it. Someone’s aim must have been thrown off, he reasoned, if it hadn’t been, Jack would be dead.

He glanced quickly over at the piano, to see that bullets had ripped through its delicate wood. The sight was truly awful, and he turned away, feeling the pain all musicians feel when they see an instrument damaged.

“Lacie! Winona!” Susie called. Sammy remembered they’d been on guard duty.

“We’re fine!” Lacie pushed open the front door, ushering Winona inside. The younger woman’s gaze was cast behind them on the road, as if searching for something. Lacie dragged her the remainder of the way and slammed the door shut behind them.

Footsteps sounded on the staircase and in the hallway, and soon everyone in Henry’s gang was sprinting into the room. Henry was the first down the stairs, Michael right behind him, with Boris loping after the two brothers. Bertrum and Thomas rushed in from the hallway, Bertrum with a rifle in hand. Thomas had shaving cream slathered across his face and wore only a T-shirt and hastily pulled on pants. He had a razor in his one hand, holding it out before him like a weapon. Murray was the last to arrive, practically leaping into the room with a firearm in hand. Everyone pressed into the small space.

“Winona!” Wally’s shrill voice echoed in the hallway, and Emily and Shawn pressed themselves against the wall to let him through. The young gangster sprinted to his sister, grabbed her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length.

“Are you hurt?” Wally sounded positively frantic as he looked his sister over, checking for injuries.

“I’m fine, Wally.” Winona replied gently. Wally surveyed her one last time to make sure she was telling the truth, before enveloping her in a tight embrace.

“Great Scott!” Bertrum surveyed the broken glass before him, his wrinkled eyes narrowing, “So it would seem Drew has made his move.”

“Is everyone okay? What happened?” Sammy turned as Henry approached him and Susie. Michael went to check on Jack, and he and Matt hefted the poet to his feet. He looked dazed.

“Everyone’s fine,” Susie said.

“Miraculously.” Sammy added, nodding pointedly at the hole-ridden wall. Henry took in the sight, his brow furrowing.

“Somehow, their aim got thrown off.”

“I don’t know how it happened.” Lacie spoke up, “They must have hit a bump in the road or something.”

“Who did?”

“Norman and Bendy.”

At Bendy’s name, Henry stiffened, something clouding his eyes. Boris lowered his gaze. Everyone knew how much the gang leader and the cartoon wolf missed Bendy and Alice. Sammy figured it must feel like a huge blow to them to know Bendy had fired upon them. He didn’t feel any empathy, though; this wasn’t even his side.

Sammy glowered inwardly. His teammates had nearly shot him. True, they couldn’t have known he was in the room, but they could have figured he might be in the room. He was going to have words with Joey.

“We fired after them,” Winona spoke up, disengaging herself from her brother’s hug, “But I don’t think we hit either of them.”

Henry let out a small sigh and Sammy could see the relief in his eyes; he didn’t want anyone shooting Bendy.

“Alright,” the mob boss’ voice was authoritative, “Thomas, Wally, I want you two to get to work boarding up the windows. Bertrum, Murray, you’re on guard duty. I’ll try to protect you with my ink shields, but you know I can’t hold them for very long; I’ll have to take breaks. Michael, make sure everyone caught in this shooting is okay. Everyone else, assist where you can.” So saying, Henry made his way into the hallway, presumably making for the closet where they kept hardware supplies.

The gangsters all went about their separate tasks. Thomas placed a hand on Wally’s shoulder, gently steered him away from Winona and after Henry. Bertrum and Murray exchanged a glance before heading outside, their guns at the ready. Michael suddenly appeared in front of Sammy, his quick brown eyes assessing him.

“Am I going to live?” Sammy asked drily.

“It would appear so, Sammy.” Michael moved on to check on Lacie and Winona, having finished his examinations of Jack and Matt. Jack was sitting on the piano bench. He looked pale, but otherwise fine.

Sammy smirked, “I thought Susie told you to leave.”

Jack slowly looked up at Sammy, his glare returning, “Shut up!” He pushed past Sammy and stalked after Thomas and Wally. Not so poetic now, I see. Sammy mused.

“Well, that was sudden.” Sammy’s smirk dropped as Susie spoke, and he adopted what he hoped was a cordial expression.

“Yeah, it was.”

Susie’s blue eyes twinkled, “Maybe we can make time for that song later, huh? On a different piano, though.” she added with a nod to the now broken instrument.

Sammy nodded slowly, “Sure thing.” The singer smiled brightly and left the room. Sammy watched her leave. I wish Jack had seen that.

“You’re staring, buddy.” Matt gave his friend a weary smile.

“Yeah, well, I have a right to admire the woman who might have saved our lives.”

“You may be right.” The fact that Matt wasn’t teasing him told Sammy he was shook up over the morning’s events. He was, too, Sammy had to admit, but considering this wasn’t his team, he didn’t feel as rattled as he might have. Besides, they were a part of the mafia; getting shot at was a day-to-day routine.

“I suppose we should help clean this mess up.” Matt gestured over to the broken glass on the floor, which Wally was sweeping up.

“I guess so.” Sammy sighed, and the two friends got to work.

[star-going-supernova]

BatIM/HP Crossover

This is what happens when Star isn’t able to write for a long time. I get these dangerous things called ideas. So! Here are some little bits and pieces (mainly about their sorting) from the slowly growing world in my mind featuring our favorite BatIM characters and our favorite school of witchcraft and wizardry. Please keep in mind that how I sorted them is my own opinion, based largely off my own interpretations of the characters.

~ We’ll start simple, with Joey, Henry, Susie, and Norman meeting on the train. They share a compartment and despite being slightly awkward children, Joey is just out there enough to draw the other three into a conversation, one that lasts all the way until the train stops. They decide that no matter which Houses they all end up in, they’ll stay friends.

~ Joey’s a pureblood; Susie’s got a witch for a mother and a muggle for a father; Norman’s father’s best friend was magical, so while he’d grown up knowing about magic, having it himself was a surprise; and Henry tells them that he was entirely clueless about magic up until the day he got his letter. 

~ They take turns guessing what each House they’ll each go into, once they’ve made sure to explain how the Houses and sorting works to Henry. Even after the short amount of time they’ve been together, they all agree on Joey being a Slytherin. Susie’s sure that she’ll go into Hufflepuff, if only because she’s not particularly brave, clever, or cunning. It takes some discussion, but they end up deciding on Hufflepuff for Norman. It’s the same with Henry, who shrugs. 

~ Joey goes into Slytherin, just as they’d all thought. He got the typical ‘cunning and ambitious’ spiel, nothing new; what was surprising to him was the Hat’s brief dilemma over Slytherin versus Gryffindor (for his reckless and impulsive behavior). There’s some deliberation over Susie, but the Hat puts her in Ravenclaw. She’s a bit shocked but can’t say that she’s disappointed. The Hat reasoned that her creativity and drive to stand out would help her fit right in. Norman ends up in Hufflepuff without much fuss, but for different reasons than they might have expected. The Hat told him that it was his understanding that Hufflepuffs were often overlooked, and that Norman’s penchant for lurking and being one of those good kids that everyone knows but no one remembers would be able to continue. 

~ Henry sits on the stool for a long time before the Hat finally calls out, “Slytherin!” He joins Joey and merely explains, “It said that Slytherins are good at hiding themselves and don’t like taking no for an answer.”

~ They make good on their promise to remain friends, and not a single one of them lets something like being in different Houses stop them. It’s more rare to see them separated among their tables than to see all four of them eating at one. They admittedly hadn’t been too sure about it in the beginning, but their hesitation ended the moment an older student told them they shouldn’t do it, and Henry looked that Ravenclaw straight in the eyes as he deliberately sat down and filled his plate without blinking. The professors honestly think it’s kind of adorable. 

~ Joey lives up to the Slytherin stereotype, but that’s honestly part of who he is as a Slytherin, making people believe he’s over-the-top and dramatic and blatantly charming, when it’s the little things that he manipulates to his will. He’s especially fond of figuring out chain reaction type things, where he tips the balance in one spot and watches as everything falls into place exactly like he expected it to. He likes playing around with runes, and despite being a pureblood, he’s fascinated with the idea of combining magic and machinery to make something new.

~ Susie fits right in with the other Ravenclaws. She thinks just far enough out of the box to be more clever than she’d thought, and she’s got a way with words that can cut someone down to the quick if she has reason enough to. When the situation calls for it, in fact, she has the tendency to be downright harsh. Susie also enjoys the myriad of voice-altering spells, and she uses them as a basis to learn real, nonmagical ways of making her vocal cords do amazing things.

~ Norman keeps his old habits of purposefully blending in with the crowd to better go unnoticed. He likes seeing everything around him without being seen, and he becomes very good at all manner of concealing charms and other spells that mask his presence. You need some gossip? You go to Norman Polk, and you hope that he’s in the right mood for sharing. In a way, he likes collecting secrets, not necessarily for blackmail purposes, but because they’re full of meaning and all so different. He’s also very good at reading body language, and that makes him a nice friend to be around when your mood’s a bit wonky, because he’ll know whether you need comfort or space.

~ Henry seems to defy most of Slytherin’s main traits even as he practices them right under everyone’s noses. He does the opposite from Joey’s over-the-top methods, instead being the most under-the-radar type of manipulative. He’s especially good at predicting right-place-right-time scenarios, and that results in him ‘selling’ such information to some pranksters. It’s a hallmark of his cunning that he never gets caught. If someone says that something’s impossible to Henry, he often takes it as a dare, and just like the Hat said, he doesn’t like taking no for an answer. Though this doesn’t mean rules in general— in fact, he’s a model student, a real goody-two shoes who never seems to get in trouble. And that makes it all the easier for him to just slide right on by, unnoticed and underestimated. 

~ Henry and Norman aren’t so different in that respect, but the thing that really separated them was Henry’s “Challenge Accepted” attitude, inspired by his tendency to look impossibilities in the face and say, “Watch me,” like in The Art of Being Alive. For him, magic just sort of opens up a whole new world of loopholes. 

~ To outsiders, Joey’s the Instigator of their antics, Susie’s their cheery Motivator, Norman’s something of a meticulous Planner with everything he sees, and Henry just seems like he’s along for the ride. What they don’t see is that, in private, Joey might be the one to suggest something but Henry’s the one to push the rest of them to go through with it. He’s an Enabler, like in Dreams Come True. And he’s also their Plan G, as in Get Us Out Of This Mess. He’s very good at it.

~ They eventually meet Sammy, who’s in the year above them. Their dynamic is… interesting, to say the least. It’s the sort of friendship that everyone looks at with total confusion, because it doesn’t make sense on any logical level. During their second year, they meet Wally and Allison, new first years who also become part of their group.

~ I might end up doing more, especially if it seems people are interested, but I wanted to end with this one. As this is BatIM, you might be wondering where the toons come in, if at all. Well, great things often start small, and this is especially so in their case: they started as something like imaginary friends, characters that were born in the mind of a child only to become far more real than what should’ve been possible. Only, these were imaginary friends put to paper by a child with magic in his fingertips and love in his heart. You see, Henry wasn’t exactly telling the truth when he said he’d been absolutely clueless about magic prior to receiving his Hogwarts letter. Though he didn’t know exactly why or how it happened, for as long as he could remember, he could make his drawings come to life on the page. It’s one of the reasons he’s quiet around those he’s not close to— he never had much practice making friends, since he’d always had Bendy, Boris, and Alice to talk to. Coming to Hogwarts certainly doesn’t put a stop to it, though he doesn’t share his secret with anyone else. Not at first, that is. But sooner or later, perhaps a few years down the line, he might see the potential in Joey’s theories about combining magic and machinery to do amazing and wonderful things. Maybe even something like bring his living drawings off the page to join him in the real world.

Should I do more? Let me know if there’s a particular thing that you’d like to see me address.  :)

[searchingthedepths]

Sugarplum Dreams

Faye and Bella have a heartfelt conversation within the dream world. 

From the Desk of F.K.E.

Everything was dark and blurry, save for a single beam of light from above. Bella carefully tried to stand up. She felt lost and disoriented in the darkness. It blanketed everything like a wet washcloth, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to be warm or cold. She took some steps towards the spotlight, squinting to try and see what was under it. She could discern a figure, a very petite figure, clad in black and white with bits of gray. She rubbed at her eyes, but nothing could clear her blurry vision. Strange, she had perfect eyesight, never needed glasses before, why couldn’t she see anything?

            “Bella? Can you hear me?” A voice called out. A gentle voice, a little childish, feminine, charming, a voice just like…

            “Faye? Faye is that you! Where are you?”

            “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here.”

            The spotlight and the figure under it walked closer to Bella, until they were right in front of her. Though she was still blurry, Bella could still understand when she motioned for her to come closer. She kneeled beside the petite form, and in turn, the figure gave her a peck on the cheek and rubbed her eyes. After blinking a few times, Bella’s vision was crystal clear.

Before her was an adorable cartoon character. She was a little fairy, small sure, but graceful and majestic in ways Bella hadn’t expected. She had beautiful curly hair in the darkest black pigment that went down to the backs of her knees. Around her head was a lovely wreath of silvery leaves. Her clothing looked like it was made from all the things you’d commonly find in nature, leaves, vines, and flower petals. But of course, the main attraction had to be her fluttering wings. They were gorgeous, as though crafted from the finest silk, they glittered as they moved in the light.

“You alright Bell-bell?”

Yep, this was definitely Faye, no doubt about that. Bella had so many questions, but she wasn’t sure where to start.

“Faye, what are you doing here? I-is this really you?”

The fairy giggled and held Bella’s hand in hers. “Yeah, it’s really me. I know you haven’t seen me like this before, but it won’t be long before I look like this all the time for you, well, minus the wings. Those are just my own creative license.” She squeezed Bella’s hand gently. “Sammy asked me to make sure you stayed asleep while he got work done, so I entered your dreams for the night.”

“Wait, what? Why would-”

“He has a lot of ritual stuff to do tonight, prepping your body and all that jazz. I know, it’s probably really weird to talk about this,” she blushed a dark gray and looked away, “I guess this is just a normal enough occurrence for me that it’s not so weird anymore.”

“Faye, n-no worries, okay? Look, it’s not the most comfortable idea in the world, but I’ll learn to get over it, alright?” Bella wrapped her arms tightly around the little fairy and hugged her. “I don’t understand a lot of what’s going on, but it’s gonna be okay. I have to trust you guys, you know what you’re doing.”

Faye sniffled a little and hid her face in Bella’s chest. “You’re so different from all the other humans. They all tried to get out of the studio, even when they knew they couldn’t. I don’t get it, why haven’t you tried to run away?”

Bella thought about this for a moment. She wasn’t sure herself, trying to escape was the logical answer after all.

“Maybe it’s because I’m needed here. Outside the building, there’s not much waiting for me. I have no job, no home, no family, and my best friend is all the way in another state, probably forgot all about me,” she replied. She tried to laugh it off, but she did a horrible job at masking her pain.

“Sounds more like you need us,” Faye said, “I’m sorry about what happened. I wish I could make it all better. That’s what I was made for, to give people joy, but I’m not too good at it. People here are never happy.”

The fairy snuggled up to the human, getting them both to sit on the floor for a while. Bella could relate, she’d felt this often as of late, like no one wanted to be happy, no matter how much she tried to give them a chance at it. But you can’t force people to change, she knew that. She played with Faye’s locks for a while, rubbing her shoulder while she held her tightly.

“Honey, something tells me that the people here would be a lot worse off without you. I’m certain Sammy would be. Sometimes it’s not obvious, but we all help each other in our own ways. Sometimes something small can be so much bigger than it first seems.”

She held Faye closer to her, wondering if that had been the right thing to say. The human knew she wasn’t the greatest at pep talks, but this was Faye, the one person in the world that would never stop believing in the best in people. To be able to keep that belief was important. Bella hadn’t seen her friend interacting with anyone outside of Sammy and Graves, but with them, she knew the fairy was a light in the darkness. Faye cooed, getting comfortable in the human’s arms. She looked so peaceful, Bella thought, they could stay there forever and be totally fine.

The tiny fae eventually wiggled out of Bella’s arms and went to stand back in the spotlight. She plucked one of the leaves from her wreath and kneeled on the ground, lifting it up like dirt and burying the silver plant beneath it. Whispering so softly that the human couldn’t hear it, Faye recited a short incantation, and slowly the darkness lifted. There were sparkles and glittering lights everywhere, a pixie dust that washed away the inky black into a colorful field of flowers. The sky was like a robin’s egg, a protective shell of blue, with a sun shining over the wild orchids and marigolds. Bella forgot to breathe for a moment, taking in the beauty. From the spot where the leaf had been buried, a sapling of a tree had sprouted, delicate and youthful. Faye smiled knowingly and latched onto Bella’s hand.

“We don’t have forever to spend here, but I wanted to give you a safe place to come back to. What’s going to happen soon, it can be…difficult, to adjust to. I just…I don’t want to see you lose yourself,” she said.

Faye had never been hesitant in the brief time Bella had known her. If even Faye was serious and glum about the upcoming ritual, she had every reason to believe that there was something amiss.

“Faye…what’s gonna happen to me? I know you guys have the best intentions, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll all make the right decisions, but I need to know. It’s clearly bothering all of you,” she pleaded. She grasped the fairy’s hand tightly, holding it with both of her own. “I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to make this easier, okay?”

“That’s the thing though, there’s just no way to do that,” Faye looked straight into the human’s eyes, tears forming in her own. “I don’t want to say goodbye, when I’ve only just met you. And now I’ll never get to know you, no one is ever the same once they’ve been submerged.”

Bella nearly felt her heart stop at that. “Goodbye? I don’t understand.” She felt cold inside, shivering.

“There’s something Sammy will tell you, I know for certain he’ll say it. ‘Once you enter the ink, you’ll never be the same again.’ It’s true. I was there for that part, I saw people change. They stopped being themselves after a while, it was horrible. I don’t want to see that happen to you!” She flung herself at the confused human and bawled in her shirt. Bella tried to calm her down, but nothing would stop the tiny child’s sobbing.

“I-I don’t want to see your fire go out…it’s been dim since you got here. Bell-bell, please don’t lose your light, you’re one of the few people I’ve ever seen it in.”

“Hey, hey, calm down Faye,” she said gently. Bella held her close, giving her a peck on her forehead. The fairy whimpered before looking up, wiping the tears from her eyes. Bella held her shoulders firmly, looking her dead in the eyes.

“I may not be the wisest soul on Earth, but this much I know. No matter what happens, I’m still gonna look out for you guys. Faye, nothing could ever take away my love for you. I’m doing this because I believe it can make things better, I have to be okay with whatever happens, or it will never work.”

Faye’s heart sunk. As inspiring of a speech as it was, she saw what really motivated those words. Something grim finally clicked in Faye’s mind.

“You’re dying.”

It was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the flower field, it was easy to hear. Bella merely nodded.

“Is that how you see it? That this is the end?”

“It’s the end of my life as a human, that much is clear.”

She held up her arm and rolled up her sleeve. Even in a dream, the veiny black was still there, it had spread to her wrist, beginning to trail up her pinky.

“How can I be human when I’ve got a piece of the studio in me?”

Faye’s eyes widened, “How did you know?”

“Wasn’t exactly hard to figure out,” Bella replied. She traced over the black veins with her fingertips, as though tracing constellations in the sky. “Before I heard you, there was something else. The darkness, it wasn’t silent. There was something trying to speak, something that hadn’t reached me before. And I could be mistaken, but you’re a part of it, aren’t you?”

Faye sheepishly nodded. “That’s the ink. It has a voice of its own, the voice of the studio and everyone who belonged to it. We’re all together, all a part of something larger.”

“And now it wants Henry and I to become a part of it. It’s not just Sammy’s plans, the ink has something it wants too”

“Exactly.”

“Why though? We’re just ordinary people.”

“You think the rest of them weren’t?” Faye replied, “It doesn’t want to be alone. The people inside it are close to gone, their spirits are broken, and their hearts drained. You’re fresh, something I’m sure it hasn’t seen before, and Henry, he’s a Creator, just like Joey, having him would be valuable. The ink is hungry. It needs a new dream to feed off.”

“A new dream?” Bella asked.

“That’s what summoned its power in the first place. Joey had a dream, something he really wanted, something he wouldn’t stop working towards. But no one remembers what it is, only the ink knows. All I know is that there’s something in the Depths that he’s trying to find, and it has to do with that dream.”

“Hmm…well, I can’t say I have many dreams anymore, most of them disappeared after I lost my job. There’s only one I’ve got left, and something tells me the ink won’t be too happy with it.”

Faye raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“That dream is to save you all from it.”

The fairy chuckled, a pure, tinkling laugh that wasn’t corrupted. “The ink isn’t a monster silly. It doesn’t hurt anyone, just the things that live in it do.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” she replied sarcastically, “Are you saying I’m gonna end up as one of those hurtful things?”

“It’s hard to say for sure,” Bella replied, “Everyone takes to the ink differently, and Joey has different jobs for everyone. I don’t think you’ll ever be asked to harm someone, that’s just not you.”

“But couldn’t that change? I thought you said you were afraid I’d lose myself.”

“I am. There’s no doubt that you’ll be changed, but it’s not like you have no say in that. That’s the wonderful thing about being born as a human, you’re not made for an intended purpose, you get to decide what your path is. I just, well, y’know…”

“You hope I’ll choose a good one, aye?”

Faye nodded quietly, her cheeks flushed. Bella couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh honey, what do I have to worry about? After all, it was your ink that healed me. With a piece of you inside me, I know I’ll never get lost.”

The printmaker held her companion tightly. She’d done her best to be reassuring, that was all she could do. But even with a false sense of confidence, she still felt chilled inside. The prospect of all of this, the idea that she’d be swallowed by something beyond her comprehension was scary. But she had to do it, she’d promised, to do the ritual as well as to save them. There was no backing out now. The fire in her eyes showed itself again, restless and small in its flame. Faye leaned next to her and tried to warm her up. Her inner flame was dim again. It needs some fuel, some extra heat, Faye decided.

“Would you like me to try and explain it? I’m not all that great at it, but you did want to know more, and knowing makes it less scary.”

“Pretty please,” Bella said, “I just want to understand. What does it feel like?”

“Think of it like this. Becoming a Searcher is like being a phoenix. You’re buried in the ashes, but when you come back out them for the first time, you’re still you, just reincarnated to be a little younger and fresher. It’s different, and you’ll have to get used to it, but you’re still you at the core. Who that person is, who you believe yourself to be, that changes with time, but nothing can take that away from you.”

Faye gestured over to the tree sapling. “You see this? There’s a reason I planted this here while you’re still fully human. This tree will grow with you throughout all of this. Some days, it will wilt, other days, it will flourish, but it will only survive if you nurture it. It represents your essence.”

“But how will I know how to care for it?”

“Simple. Take care of yourself. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to take care of you too, we all will.” Faye said, daintily petting her hand.

“Hey, I thought I was supposed to be taking care of you,” Bella said. She pretended to be miffed, which made Faye giggle.

“Nah, it’s mutual. Besides, you’re the baby of the group, someone’s gotta take care of you.”

 For in the end, you will be reborn, little ewe.

[queenofcats17]

I had a kind of silly idea! I remember in one prompt you wrote had some Searchers playing pranks on people in the village and I thought that was pretty cute! Maybe a few that are in the process of regaining their identity start playing pranks on Murray while he’s trying to help out with stuff? Meanwhile Henry is alone again and comes across Jack Fain? Maybe they just hang out together and Jack tries to help Henry feel a little better about what’s been going on? Sorry if this idea is stupid. 😅

Part of this is going to be cute, and then there’s going to Henry’s part. Henry’s parts are always emotional. ^^”

One thing Murray discovered during his time in the Lost Ones’ village was that they liked to play pranks. It was something they’d learned from both Bendy and Wally. Bendy was mischievous by nature and Wally was the studio clown, so they both enjoyed playing harmless pranks. They were all very strict about never going too far. The worst they could do was inconvenience someone. Their pranks generally involved hiding objects and giggling as others tried to find said objects. It kept their spirits up and helped them regain their identity to a certain extent. 

Murray discovered this a few days after he came to the village. He’d been drafted to help fix some parts on one of the boats that Allison and Tom used, and when he’d reached for his wrench, it wasn’t there. He frowned, digging around in the provided toolbox a bit. It had just been here. Where could it have gone? His frown deepened. Had he dropped it? If it had gone into the ink river, he certainly wouldn’t be getting it back. 

“Has anyone seen the wrench?” He asked, standing up and wiping his hands on his pants.

“Weren’t you just using it?” Sammy asked from up on the roof. “Wally, stay still. I can’t hammer if you keep moving the plate around.”

“I’m bad at staying still! You know that!” Wally said. 

Sammy sighed. “Alright. I’ll finish this up myself. Why don’t you help Murray look for the wrench?”

“You got it!” Wally gave him a silly salute, jumping off the roof. Murray instinctively winced as Wally hit the ground and became a puddle before quickly reforming himself. The cartoon physics that governed the way most of the ink creatures moved still unsettled Murray a bit. Wally thrived on it, though.

“So, you can’t find the wrench, huh?” 

“Erm, yes.” Murray nodded. “I reached for it and it wasn’t there.”

“Hmmm.” Wally screwed up his face in thought, adjusting his cap with one hand. “D’ya think you coulda dropped it?”

“I mean, it’s possible.” Murray nodded slightly, still looking around. “I could have sworn I put it in the toolbox, though.” It was then that he noticed a group of Searchers hiding behind one of the shacks, giggling to themselves. He couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. 

“What?” Wally frowned, following his gaze. “Ooooh. Oh, yeah. They do that sometimes. Well, guess you gotta find it now!” He slapped Murray’s back. “Have fun!”

“For crying out loud…” Murray rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

That was most of what the Searchers did to him. They hid things that he was using and giggled while they watched him look for them. Their other pranks involved dumping ink on Wally, Sammy, Allison, or Tom. They couldn’t do that to Murray, for obvious reasons. So they mostly just hid things. It was slightly inconvenient, but Murray didn’t mind. It made the Searchers happy. A few even regained some of their memories through them. Besides, it made Murray feel as though he was a part of their family.

Another thing they enjoyed doing was writing on the walls. Murray had seen the writings on the walls, most of them rather depressing, and had wondered where they came from. As it turned out, pretty much everyone in the studio wrote on the walls. Although most of the writings in the studio were depressing, there were some that were genuinely rather funny. Although, those were quickly covered up or erased due to what they talked about. The Searchers, those who had broken free of the hive mind that is, liked to write messages mocking Joey or Alice on the walls.

The insults they used were generally childish in nature, accompanied by silly little drawings that did not depict their subjects kindly. Joey tended to erase the messages as soon as he found them, fuming at this insult to his power. Alice almost immediately tried to scrub them away, screaming about how disrespectful they were. Murray couldn’t help but giggle a little as well whenever the Searchers got away with this. Especially when their target was Joey. After all, Joey’s biggest flaw was his massive ego. It felt good to needle him where it hurt.

He was going to save these people, Murray decided. They’d had no reason to be nice to him, to accept him after what he’d done to them. But they had. They were good people, and they deserved to be happy. And maybe…Maybe he too deserved to be happy.

Henry, on the other hand, only thought he was happy. Feeling quite sure his act had fooled Henry, Joey had turned him loose to roam while he himself searched for Murray. Henry was humming to himself, making his way through the halls. He was completely oblivious to everything. Before he knew it, he found himself in the Music Department. He made a curious noise, looking around. It didn’t seem as though anyone else was there. It felt so lonely and empty without others there. Henry made a mournful noise, searching around for anything to entertain himself with. He vaguely remembered there being something in the sewers, so he decided to head there. 

It was in the sewers that he came across Jack Fain. Jack was sitting at his desk, staring down at the music sheets still left on his desk. He didn’t dare touch them for fear of ruining them. He knew it served no purpose for him to dwell on the past like this. But when he looked at those music sheets and his violin, he remembered all he’d lost. 

“Ja…ck…?” He looked up abruptly to find Henry in the sea of ink beside his little alcove. 

“Henry? What are you doing here?” Jack asked. “I thought Joey would be keeping you close after…” He trailed off, hunching his shoulders. 

“Wanted to…explore,” Henry said. “Joey’s….busy.”

“Ah.” Jack nodded tentatively. “Well, it’s nice to see you. I can’t imagine things have been easy for you lately.” Henry shrugged. 

“It’s okay. Joey…apologized…” As clarity returned to his mind, he trailed off. 

“Is something wrong?” Jack asked. He was understandably wary of any apology given by Joey Drew. 

“He lied to me again.” Henry’s shoulders slumped. “He spun some story about wanting a family and I fell for it. Again.”

“He’s lied to all of us at one time or another,” Jack said. “You shouldn’t feel bad about falling for it. We all did.” All except Norman, that was. 

“I should know better by now!” Henry slapped ineffectually at the ink. “I know what he’s like! I’ve seen what he’s capable of! I should have known!” Had he still been able to cry, he might have been crying at that point.

“Henry…” Jack slipped off his chair to join Henry in the ink, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Even if Joey wasn’t exerting his control on you, which I’m certain he was, you know how good he is at manipulating people. He knows just what to say to get us to go along with his plans.” 

Henry was silent for a moment before sighing heavily. “I guess you’re right.”

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up about this,” Jack assured him. “None of it is your fault. You’re just trying to survive, same as the rest of us.” Henry smiled, putting his hand on Jack’s. 

“Thank you.” He said. “I really appreciate it. You, Sammy, and Wally have all been so kind.”

“You’re our friend.” Jack smiled back at him. “Besides, we all help each other down here. We have to work together if we ever want to beat Joey.” Henry nodded, turning his gaze to the ink river. 

“Do you think we’ll ever make it out of here?” He asked. 

“We will,” Jack replied. “We just have to have faith.”

“If you say so.” Henry laughed weakly. 

“Dreams come true, right?” Jack said. “Anyway, why don’t we go to Sammy’s sanctuary? I think you deserve a rest.”

Not all of them, Henry thought as he followed Jack upstairs. Not all of them.

[queenofcats17]

Okay the last story was amazing! The funny stuff with the Searchers gave me a cool idea for Alice/Susie though! What if she’s mad at Sammy for all the silly messages that the Searchers write about her on the walls? I think it would be interesting to see her outlook on the Searchers and Lost Ones! Plus I bet that she blames Sammy for everything since he was the first person to become infected. (Though it wasn’t his fault.) because she seems pretty selfish. Sorry if this idea isn’t very good. 😅

I’m still sick and a little loopy, so this might not be great. But I like it.

The creature that had once been Susie Campbell didn’t sleep. Then again, it wasn’t as though ink creatures needed to sleep. But that wasn’t why she avoided closing her eyes for too long. When Alice slept, her dreams were haunted by visions of her past. Sometimes they were pleasant. Her and Sammy walking hand in hand through a park. Wally accidentally falling into Sammy’s office after listening at the door. Norman coming in with Wendy and the whole studio dropping everything to entertain her. But more often than not, what she saw was awful. The day she’d been infected was the one she saw most often.

When she came in that day, she heard screaming. This wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, but it seemed different this time. Despite her better judgment, Susie went to investigate the sounds. She hadn’t been in a particularly good place as of late, but she didn’t want to just stand by if someone was hurt. So, she followed the screams down to the Music Department. Her heart began to pound as she descended the stairs.

“Hello? Is everything alright?” She called out, continuing tentatively forward. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, something fell into her line of sight. It was Wally, beat up and with ink dripping from his mouth.

“Wally?” She gasped. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, wide and frantic.

“Run.”

“What-?”

“RUN!” Wally yelled. It took her a moment to fully process these words and Wally’s state, and that moment was enough for Sammy to find her. As she turned to flee, she felt someone grab her arm. She looked back to see Sammy hold fast to her upper arm. He looked…wrong. There was ink in his hair, on his skin, soaked into his clothes. It almost seemed to be a part of him. And his eyes…They were uniform circles of golden light.

“Sammy?” She whispered. He growled, nails digging into her skin.

“Let her go!” Wally latched himself onto Sammy’s leg, trying to pull him back. Sammy’s attention was briefly drawn away by this, allowing Susie to wrench herself free and run. In the process, though, Sammy’s nails dragged across her flesh, leaving deep scores already festering with black ink. Her mind was racing. Sammy had gone crazy! She had to get help, had to find someone. For some reason, she found her feet taking her to Joey’s office. She didn’t know why she’d thought he’d help, but she stumbled into his office all the same.

“Mr. Drew! Something’s wrong!” She was on the verge of tears. “Sammy’s gone crazy! You have to help!” Joey sat at his desk, hands folded, looking completely calm.

“There’s no need to worry,” he said, smiling brightly.

“Yes, there is!” Susie started to sob, clutching her arm. “He attacked me, Mr. Drew! He looked like a wild animal! Look what he…did…” She looked down at her arm and trailed off. The scratches had turned black, and the darkness was spreading up her arm. She looked back at Joey, her eyes wide. Joey was still smiling, although there was an edge to it now.

“Joey…What’s happening?” Her voice was small.

“Something that’s been a long time coming,” Joey said. His eyes almost seemed to be glowing red.

“Am I going to die?” It was getting hard to think now as the black ink oozed across her body. What was going to happen to her?

“Not precisely.” Joey waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Although, I imagine you would be unsatisfied with the form you’ll possess. I could help you if you like.”

“What is it? What do you want?” She wanted to survive. She had to survive.

“All you need to do is let me run a few experiments.” Joey got up, crossing the desk to stand before Susie. “What do you say?”

She’d said yes. Those experiments were also a reoccurring theme in her nightmares. She only half-remembered exactly what Joey had done, but she definitely remembered the pain. And in the end…None of the experiments had been worth it. She’d been a failure. She hadn’t been able to serve Joey’s goals, so he’d discarded her. She despised him for this. For making her into this monster and then just throwing her away.

He’d left her with an imperfect body and a ruined mind. Her emotions were all jumbled up, although her memories had for the most part remained. She wasn’t sure why she’d started calling herself Alice and trying to make herself ‘perfect’. Maybe it was because she already resembled Alice. Maybe she wanted to get back at Joey and prove that she was worth something.

At the very least, she could take comfort in the fact that she was neither a Searcher nor part of the hivemind. She tried to make herself feel better about her situation by looking down on the Searchers and the Lost Ones. She had a defined form. She knew who she was. They were nothing more than lost souls.

And she envied them more than anything.

No matter how hard she tried to make herself perfect, to become Alice Angel, she was still Susie Campbell. She was still trapped in a form that wasn’t her own, scared and confused and lonely. The Searchers and Lost Ones were in the same position, but they had each other. They had a community. A family.

They had Sammy.

She missed Sammy more than anything. Part of her blamed him for everything that had happened. He’d been the first one to be infected. But she still loved him. He’d always been there for her. Him and Wally. She wanted so badly to be a part of the family they’d created here. She didn’t want to be alone anymore.

The Searchers wrote things about her on the walls. They were never kind. They made fun of her, drawing pictures of her and writing silly insults. Given the way she terrorized them, it made sense. But it did hurt, knowing that she was the enemy of people Sammy cared about so much.

“No. I can’t think like that.” She told herself, shaking her head. “I’m better than them! I’m Alice Angel!” She was Alice Angel. Not Allison, her. Susie Campbell had been weak. She’d lost her role, she’d lost her self. She was Alice Angel. She was Alice Angel and she was going to be perfect. Then…Then everyone would love her. Then she would get her revenge on Joey.

For now, she was scrubbing some of the messages off the walls. They’d called her a meanie face and drawn a crude picture of her with her tongue out and stink lines coming from her head. 

“That Lawrence.” She grumbled, scrubbing furiously at the drawing. “He needs to control his sheep!” When Sammy called the Lost Ones and Searchers his sheep, it was a pet name, comforting and soft. When Alice did it, it was derisive and insulting. That was all they were, after all. Just mindless sheep following the sweet words of a liar. She could hear them giggling out of sight. 

“Come out you cowards!” She stood up, stamping her foot. “You’re old enough to know it’s rude to talk behind people’s backs!” The Searchers squealed, vanishing into the puddles. 

“Such insolence.” She huffed before going back to scrubbing. The messages had been popping up with a frightening frequency. It was honestly rather distracting. She’d probably have to send a formal complaint to Sammy at some point. She had work to do! She couldn’t keep dropping everything to clean away the messages. 

She did end up leaving a note on the door of his office. She knew full well she didn’t have the courage to confront him face to face, not with their history and how she’d been infected. But a note? She could do a note. 

Lawrence,

Control your little sheep! They keep writing all over my walls and I can’t stand it anymore! Every day now I’ve had to stop my work to clean up their graffiti. Have them stop this at once! 

-Alice Angel

She didn’t really know if it would do anything, but it felt good to at least lodge a complaint. 

As she made her way down to the Music Department to put the note on his door, she felt a presence she hadn’t felt before. That was right…Henry was here now. Likely one of Joey’s pawns already. 

“You should never have come back.” She muttered. She tacked the note onto Sammy’s door and retreated to her sanctuary.