#oh i forgot how patient you must be when you do any sort of creative endeavour

[vhenan-ma-ghilana]

how many more bleedin wips could i possibly have oml .................

is any of this visible on a device thats not apple cus the colours aren't colouring

(and unfortunately theres more where this came from rip me 😭😭😭 just sketching nonstop but not committing to colouring 💀)

[marveloussupernerd]

epiphany - Yoosung Kim

I fell asleep in the middle of this one too. This seems to be a trend for when I write for Yoosung haha. “Luckily” I woke up around 3:15 and got to work finishing it. A little disclaimer: they never explicitly state what exactly Unknown did to Yoosung’s eye, so I did take a bit of creative freedom. Also have no idea how eye injuries work and did NOT want to Google it (that stuff grossed me out). I think the description is pretty mild / lacking, so hopefully it doesn’t gross you out if you’re sensitive to it?

Warnings: hospital, eye injury (kind of speculating on Yoosung’s injury in his route)

Summary: Yoosung has to return to the hospital after the RFA party to get more treatment, but you decide to visit him this time around to find out what happened and make sure he’s okay

Yoosung was the first to pull away from the kiss, cheeks bright red as he glanced at the people at the RFA party staring at him, breathing heavily as he attempted to catch his breath.

“Yoosung,” you whispered, hands very carefully making your way close to the wraps around his eye. “What happened? I thought you said you were safe.”

“Oh, about that,” he looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet your eye. He looked like a kicked puppy, surely disappointed in himself for lying to you. “I didn’t want you to call off the party or worry or anything. Plus, I am safe! Just a little less healthy than I was before.”

“Yoosung, we should go back to the hospital,” V said, making his way over to the two of you. He greeted you quickly, as this was your first time meeting, but focused his attention on Yoosung.

“You have to go back?” You asked. You hadn’t realized it was that bad.

“Oh, uh, don’t worry!” Yoosung put on his brightest smile for you, grabbing both of your hands in his. “They just wanna keep me overnight again so they can monitor it and change my wraps and stuff. No big deal.”

“Overnight... again?”

“You’re so sweet. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay. I’ll be sure to call you and text you a lot.” He seemed to be trying to wink. You couldn’t really tell, but it did make you laugh, which made him smile even wider. “Take care of yourself, okay?” He asked. You nodded.

“I should be the one telling you that. Let me know when you get there.”

He left. The second he exited the room you worked on your plan; you really wanted to visit him. Jumin made a few calls to ensure you’d be able to stay with him past visiting hours if he wanted you to. Two hours later, you were admitted into his room.

He was sleeping in his hospital bed, a little bit of drool on his pillow. You took a seat in the chair next to his bed, deciding to wait patiently for him to wake up. His nose twitched, eyebrow furrowing. He muttered your name. He was adorable. His eye fluttered open, then shut, then open again.

“Yoosung...?” You asked, unsure if he was entirely awake. He groaned your name again. You giggled. “Are you awake?” You questioned, your voice soft enough that you wouldn’t stir him if he was asleep and dreaming.

“This... isn’t a dream?” He asked, his eye opening, voice groggy. He quickly wiped the drool on the side of his mouth. “You’re really here?”

“Mhm,” you stood up to get close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I hope that’s okay with you. I can come back another time if you’d like.”

“No!” He sounded more alert now, his voice had an urgent edge to it. “I’m so happy you’re here. You should stay here... uh, if you want.”

“Of course. I wasn’t planning on only watching you sleep then leaving when you woke up,” you teased. His cheeks flushed red.

“You haven’t even changed your clothes from the party,” he commented, eyeing your ensemble. He was right. You didn’t want to waste time stopping home and changing.

“Yeah... I forgot to get you a gift too. I’ll bring one in tomorrow or something. I just wanted to get here as quick as possible,” you promised.

“You kidding? Having you here with me is the best gift ever,” he grinned. “I won’t be here for long, but you sure do brighten this hospital room.”

“Do you think they’ll let you out tomorrow?” You sat back down, reaching out your hand so you could hold his, he grabbed it, linking fingers with you, letting your thumb be on top so you could trace circles around the back of his hand.

“They aren’t entirely sure. They don’t see this type of thing everyday,” he stated. He was so indifferent about the whole thing. He was probably trying to be brave.

“Does it hurt?”

He played with his blanket with his free hand, not quite meeting your eyes. “I mean... yeah. But I’m okay. It’ll get better.”

There was a knock on the door, which drew both of your attention. It was a doctor, followed by a nurse. “Hi Yoosung, how’s it feeling?” The doctor had a dazzling smile and seemed very nonchalant. He must see things like this pretty frequently in his field.

“Uh, it’s okay. It’s starting to hurt more again.” He was so brave. It really was amazing to see.

“Alright, we’ll get some more pain meds for you. I want to replace your bandages now though if that’s okay and take a quick look at everything.” The nurse started very carefully unraveling the bandages around his head, the doctor pulling out a little light.

“You might wanna look away for this,” Yoosung advised, glancing at you. “Uhm... it’s not pretty.”

You squeezed his hand even tighter, reassuring your presence. “So, who’s your friend here?” The doctor asked, trying to keep conversation going to take Yoosung’s mind off the pain.

“We’re dating actually,” Yoosung replied. He sounded so confident and happy.

“Congratulations! It’s always nice to have someone to visit you.” They peeled the last of the bandage off. “Okay, it’s gonna be a little bright, but try your best to keep your eye open,” he ordered.

You couldn’t look away. You couldn’t see his entire eye very well, but what you could see... the entire area around it was dark and swollen and kind of crusty. The nurse pulled out some sort of wipe to try and keep the area clean. His eye was very red, very tiny needle-thin pricks covering across his eyeball. “Jesus Christ Yoosung,” you commented in awe, words spilling out of your mouth before you had a chance to think about it. You squeezed his hand tighter. “That’s what you’ve been saying isn’t that bad?”

Yoosung laughed, a tear instinctively flowing out of his bad eye from all the light and irritation. “He’s one of the bravest patients I’ve had in a while, that’s for sure,” the doctor commented, turning to smile reassuringly at you. “Now Yoosung, what do you see?”

He closed his good eye, squinting out of the other. It might have been cute in a different situation. “Colors are still pretty good. Everything just looks kind of smeared though.” His voice was steady; he was so professional about this all.

The doctor clicked off his flashlight, the nurse handing him a roll of new bandages. He got to work wrapping it back around Yoosung’s eye. “It’s still pretty infected, so I’m going to call in a higher dose of antibiotics. And then something more for the pain too.” He took a step back, as though to admire his handiwork. “You’re doing everything you can, though. Just try to relax and let your body take care of it. Relaxing is the most important.”

“Sure thing. Thank you, Doctor,” Yoosung smiled, a sort of sad smile admittedly, as the doctor left, bidding the two of you goodbye and promising to get his medicine as soon as possible.

It was just the two of you again. You glanced up at him. It was silent for a little while, the two of you glancing at each other but not knowing what words to say. Eventually, he spoke first. “I know it’s scary looking... don’t worry about it too much. I’m okay. I’m sorry if it grossed you out or scared you or anything.”

Tears leaked from your eyes; you stood abruptly and gave him the best hug you could given he was in a hospital bed. “I’m sorry,” you cried. He wrapped his arms around your back, rubbing it soothingly. “You didn’t deserve any of this. You’ve been so brave.”

“I feel like I’ve been able to be brave thanks to you,” he was smiling for real now, eye sparkling. “I want to be brave. I don’t want to worry you. I’m sorry I have.”

You paused for a second, voice shaky. “What exactly happened at the hacker’s place?” You pulled away from him slightly so you could study his face, it falling slightly. “You don’t have to tell me! If you don’t wanna relive it that’s okay.”

“No, it’s okay. But maybe you should sit down,” he advised, still smiling. He was always smiling, a genuine smile to calm your nerves. You plopped back down on your chair, reaching out to hold his hand again. “Things were going well for a while, then the hacker found us. He had a button. I was afraid he would blow us up and the apartment... Seven was... weird. Like he knew him somehow. He asked me to stay in the hall for a while.”

“That is sort of weird. Maybe he knew him from hacking school or something?” You rationalized. You didn’t want Yoosung to lose his faith in Seven; he was one of his closest friends.

“Oh! I thought that too. Anyways, he tried to set off the bomb but I stopped him. Told Seven to run away with the detonator as fast as he could, but the hacker caught me. I had ruined his plans so he wanted to have payback or something,” Yoosung’s eyes focused on his blanket. “He knew I wanted to be a vet so he decided to try and take my eyesight so it would be impossible.”

“So that’s what you want to be,” you commented, trying to brighten the mood slightly, thinking back to when he kept his major a secret. He chuckled. “I still think you’d be great at that. With or without a bad eye.”

“I think he was trying to get them both, but he ran out of time. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but a bunch of like SWAT guys broke in and helped me out of the place.”

“That’s crazy,”

“Yeah. It was. But I’m here now,” he looked up, smiling, “With you.”

You were still in shock. “How... how did you endure all that torture though?”

His ears started to heat up red. “Honestly, I thought of you. It was the one thing that helped take my mind off the pain while he was doing...” he shivered, “that. I just dreamt of you the whole time. I couldn’t leave you. Not yet. We were only pre-dating at the time.”

You leaned forward, pressing a very gentle kiss to his lips. “You’re so so brave. My knight in shining armor.”

“I wasn’t until I met you. But I wanna be brave for you.” Up super close he looked exhausted, his under eyes slightly dark, eye droopy.

“You’re so sweet,” you said, your voice quiet this time. “You look tired. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

“But... but then when I wake up it’ll probably be night and you’ll be gone!” He whined. He seemed nervous this time to be alone.

“Nope. Jumin pulled some strings. I can stay all night if you want me to.”

“Really?” The smile on his face was contagious. “Of course I want you to... is it really okay if I fall asleep for a little?”

“Of course Yoosung. Get some rest, and when you wake up I’ll be right by your side.”

He shifted to get comfortable, hand still holding yours tight. You scooted your chair closer to him so that he didn’t have to strain his arm to hold your hand. You figured it was helping him feel a bit more grounded. “Good night Yoosung. Sweet dreams,” you whispered.

“Only if I meet you in them,” he uttered, his eye fluttering shut peacefully.

[mwolf0epsilon]

BATIM - Helping Hand

Summary: All stories have a beginning and an end. Henry’s ended with kindness, Joey’s began with cruelty.

---

     Back when he’d been trying to reintegrate into civilian life after going to war, Henry had no conceivable way of explaining his experiences in an eloquent fashion. It was very difficult to put into words the sort of visceral feelings that made his chest tighten with a mixture of white hot panic and instinctual terror. There were no feasible words to express the sensation of looking another human being in the eyes and knowing that they were just as reluctant to be there, and that one of them had to die for the other to live. War was a topic that muted him to a somewhat permanent degree. Too hard for him to talk about. But the studio? The horrifying atrocities Joey had committed in his absence? The lengths he'd gone to get what he wanted? That was the one horrific happenstance in which he could find his voice and curse out a supposed friend for their heinous crimes, especially when he found himself back on that familiar doorstep that led him into that repeating nightmare... The mockery of a long-dead dream. Yes, Henry Stein, the man of few words, would end up spewing out as many acidic profane words that he could conjure up on the spot. So foul they were that they would have had a sailor as shocked and disgusted as a blushing nun. Not that anyone could judge him for it. A man of routine could only bend so much to the insatiable will of another, before he slowly found himself pushed over the precipice of madness. It was by pure miracle he hadn't lost his senses long ago. Because, thankfully, Henry made due with what little leniency and creativity he had to keep himself entertained. Every few loops he changed things up just a little bit.

     The “Long Runs” as he called them, were a respite of sorts Henry had concocted long ago as a means to give himself a break from the main storyline Joey so vehemently forced him through, with little to no choice in the matter. They were, in a sense, somewhat of a sacred thing. His sanctuary, as Sammy would put it, and one that he'd long since forced his puppeteer not to disturb. If Joey didn't want his marionette to flop onto the ground in defiance of restarting the same old stale song and dance all over again, he'd have to allow him some time to relax and get back on his game. Otherwise Henry would simply sit down and refuse to even go near the Ink Machine, much less begin this charade. Without the hellish thing as his driving point, it’s not like Joey could find any reason to push him forward anyway.  Not without the Ink Demon being let out to take on its role of the relentless hunter. So, having learned this, Joey seemed to begrudgingly allow him to explore the studio to his heart’s content without pushing him to do anything that would immediately set him towards that final stage. That repetitive speech that made less and less sense the more Henry experienced it.

     On these breaks Henry took his time and did what he’d done back when he was a kid: He people watched. An odd hobby, but one that taught him something quite valuable about creating characters. Traits and qualities. Everyone had a way of being that was entirely unique to them. Be it the way they walked, if they spoke just with their mouth or with their hands, or how they chose to project themselves out in the world. Dress and speech patterns, certain ritualistic habits, likes and dislikes...All things tended to be readable on a person if you just stopped, watched and listened for long enought. Which is why, on every one of these breaks, Henry took the time to figure out everyone’s gimmicks. Soon after, he’d started his little gestures of kindness...

     It all started with the swollen searcher with the nice hat. Jack Fain, the once lyricist that had aided in getting the right words to Sammy’s jolly little tunes. Henry had been absentmindedly exploring the sewer tunnels near the music department when he’d noticed the searcher in a rather bad way. Overstuffed with the thick ink that Twisted Alice so coveted from his brethren. So large and nauseatingly lumpy that he couldn’t even move out of his current spot. He supposed that was his inevitable fate unless crushed with a crate, which made him feel a little less upset about dropping such a heavy object onto the poor thing. Then, much to his surprise, Sammy Lawrence himself sauntered down from one of the adjacent tunnels to find the pitiful creature blocking his path. And even more surprising, he actually seemed sad about it's sorry state.   “Oh you silly sheep… This is the 4th time this week that I’ve found you so heavy with your precious wool…” How Sammy could count the weeks, Henry wasn’t sure, since he knew for a fact the music director often forgot his own name. Come to think of it, Sammy forgot a lot of things, reminding Henry of a fellow in his platoon that was afflicted with early onset dementia. He’d been discharged due to becoming a liability, and seeing him fight the disarray of his own mind had been a honestly terrifying spectacle. Henry had felt a great pity for him, which is about the same way he felt for Sammy now. The poor guy could have been great had he not ended up in Joey Drew’s grasp and then tossed into this nightmare realm. “Not to worry...Your shepherd is here now, although you’ll have to forgive me. I have no shears.”

He’d watched in morbid fascination as Sammy dug four-fingered hands into the swollen searcher’s mass, pulling out chunks of it in a way that made Henry’s stomach twist in discomfort. If Jack felt any pain, he didn’t show it.  If anything with each clump of ink removed, he seemed almost relieved. Finally, once returned to his regular proportions, the searcher let out a much softer humming sound. One that was much nicer to the ear than the wet hiss he reserved for Henry whenever he got too close to the skittish creature.   “You’re welcome my little sheep. The others will be most pleased with the wool you’ve so generously provided…” The pile of thick ink was truly massive, and the old artist could only wonder what Sammy hoped to do with it. “Please refrain from consuming more. Excessive indulgence is a sin you know...”

From the way Sammy had addressed Jack upon arrival, this seemed to be a recurring issue. One the self-appointed prophet seemed to exclusively come down into the sewers to solve himself. It piqued Henry’s interest in such a way that he’d begun to wonder… If he helped with that, would this in any way benefit him? Couldn't do him wrong to have some thick ink at hand... And then he wondered: Would helping them benefit Jack and Sammy in any way? Only one way to find out!

     He'd left it for the next time he decided to take a break. First going through a few more loops to give himself time to figure out just how to help the prophet and the swollen searcher that lived down in the sewers. He couldn't exactly allow Sammy to sacrifice him. It would only end with the delusional ex-music director dying faster. So what could he, a humble artist, possibly do for someone who was so lost to devotion? And then there was the question of what could he do for Jack. The only thing he seemed interested in, was being left alone and keeping a hold of that dang valve. Henry hadn't personally known the man, so this was a difficult task. Luckily he found an answer in the form of an audio log Buddy had collected well before the older man had set foot in the studio. As it turned out, Jack Fain was a fan of coffee. That at least was something to look into, as he made his way all around the studio. He'd mostly only found rations of bacon soup, but surely there had been a coffee machine in the break room, right?  And if he could keep his seeing tool, maybe he could keep anything else he kept on his person until the end of another run? He'd tried it once with Wally's keys and he was pretty sure he'd kept them on the next loop, only to lose them again later (the man should have invested in a better key ring, that one was a slippery bugger!). But could it work for heftier items? That too was a theory he tested, and Joey surely must have found it quite odd when he'd begun his end of the loop speech, only to stop as he stared in confusion at the bag of coffee Henry had brought along with him.   "...I have questions..." He deadpanned as he stared at the bag of coffee with slight distrust. A bag of coffee beans. Nothing could be less threatening.   "Funny, I thought that was my job?" Henry grinned. "Asking questions, and never getting any answers?"   "Funny indeed… Whatever you're up to, don't think it'll do any good." Joey frowned. "Your path is set, and nothing can change that. Even if I’ve been rather patient with your excursions."   "We'll see." That only gave Henry more motivation to try. If just to spite Joey. Another guilty pleasure of his that he indulged in from time to time. He too needed a bit of fresh unpredictable entertainment after all…

     To not lug around a bag of coffee everywhere he went (which wasn’t very practical), Henry had decided to take another break on his next run to begin experimenting with this little idea that had been borne out of curiosity. It was easy to set a goal for it: If offering something of comfort to someone that had minimal impact in Joey’s puppeteering did anything of value not only to himself but for the person in question that he sought to offer some kindness to, then what could potentially happen if he tried the same trick with some of the "main cast"? It was, in all honesty, a rather clinical way of thinking and planning things out. He was essentially detaching himself from this reality to test those around him, having superior knowledge of what was truly going on (albeit in a limited and at times fleeting fashion) thus a sort of intellectual advantage over their situations. He was being a less harmful manipulator. Setting up events like Joey. The morality of it all came crashing down just as he’d gotten a coffee machine to work.   “Keep it together Henry.” he shook himself out of that nasty train of thought as fast as he could. “You’re not doing anything malicious...You’re just...Making coffee.”

He could maybe use a cup or two himself. If just to settle his nerves. How ironic that a stimulant could calm anyone.

  "Yeah, just a simple cup of coffee. No harm, no foul…" Except to his hand when the damn coffee maker scalded him for no particular reason. If anything, he hoped this was the best damn coffee that the swollen searcher had ever tasted in his whole life as an ink slug. There was just one tiny problem with this plan: Henry didn't have any cups. Nor any mugs. Not even those tiny little plastic cups that came with these sorts of machines. The studio was apparently in a "bring your own mug" policy just to skirt around buying a refill of those.   "Joey you damn cheapskate…" he had to improvise. Thankfully he wasn't short on containers or an appetite for bacon soup. He just hoped the taps in the bathroom would still have access to clean water...

     To Joey it must be quite a sight, watching an old man make his way down into the sewers balancing three cans of soup containing piping hot coffee in them. The stairs weren't exactly up to code and the ink coating them was slippery, so this whole journey to sate his damn curiosity might leave the old artist with second degree burns and potentially a ruined back.  Thankfully he managed his way down into the depths with no real issues, and noted the shadow of the prophet following his every move. Good, he hoped an offering would appease him. Play on the same field as Sammy in a sense, just to see what he might do. Granted treating Jack nicely might grant him the cultist's mercy if he treated him like a friend still. At the sight of him, the thing that had once been Jack Fain began to flee as usual.   "Hey, wait… I have something for you!" He watched the creature skirt around a corner, hat barely staying on. He stood there, unwilling to run, and simply held the cans of hot coffee with a slightly disappointed look on his face. And then…

...Snhiff shniff shhhhniff…

The wettest sniffing sound Henry had ever heard assaulted his ears, as the swollen searcher peeked back around the corner at him. Its mouth shut but the hollow sockets where it's eyes should be appearing to be wide as it tracked what must be an alluring aroma to it. It appeared searchers still retained a sense of smell, which begged the question of how Jack could stand to live down here.   "Smells nice doesn't it? I uh…" he waved one of the cans carefully so as not to spill its contents. "Got a coffee maker upstairs working again."   "Ksshhhff…Eeee..." he couldn't understand what it said, but Henry was pretty sure Jack was trying to say "coffee". He recognized what it was, and most importantly it looked like he desperately wanted it.   "Yes. It's coffee. Do you want it?" He outstretched his arm, trying to entice the swollen searcher with his peace offering. It looked at the can, the sloshing dark liquid inside it, then stared at Henry. It seemed to be trying to decide if it was worth risking its "hide" to get what it so desperately craved. Finally after an agonizing minute, it went for it.

     Henry nearly toppled over as the swollen ink abomination lunged for the can. He damn near spilled the other two on himself as well. Luckily he'd regained his footing and managed to keep everything nicely contained in the repurposed cans. The searcher on the other hand was less the skittish thing that ran circles around him, and more like an overexcited puppy. The slurping desperate chugging noises as it inhaled the coffee were a little gross, but that was easily overlooked by just how happy it looked.   "That good uh?"

The gurgling purr that followed got a chuckle out of him, and he couldn't help give Jack a gentle pay on the hat. He couldn't have imagined just how happy the poor fellow would get. And he wasn't the only one. That worn out Bendy mask peering from the corner gave Henry a good idea of just how impactful such a small gesture had been.   "I have an extra can if you'd also like some…" He'd brought one in the hopes that Sammy might appreciate some as well, but he wasn't sure if he liked the stuff. In the little time they'd worked together at the studio, the music director had been more of a smoker than a coffee enthusiast. Shame he wouldn't be able to get such an item for him… To Henry's surprise, rather than keep his distance and wait for his dramatical reveal, Sammy actually responded to him.   "My stomach does not react kindly to most substances besides the Lord's plentiful gift..." His words were devoid of emotion. Awfully cold but also contemplative. "I'm sure my darling sheep would be more than happy to consume my share…" The happy gurgling more than confirmed this, and Henry wasted no time to give him the extra can. Jack took it gleefully and began to drink it eagerly.   "A picky eater…" Henry felt slightly disturbed at the idea that Sammy was drinking any of the ink just laying around. "I can respect that."   "I assure you, it is not by choice." The mask cocked to the side, studying him. "Although I must admit the stomach aches have helped ensure my physique stays at the peak of perfection to ensure my tasks are well done."

Henry frowned and stared down at his own stomach. He was a little on the pudgy side nowadays, and honestly chugging cans of bacon soup probably didn't help. But he wouldn't call Sammy's proportions the peak of perfection.   "Doesn't sound too fun, getting sick unless you drink… the Lord's gift." Best not step on any toes, if Sammy still had any that is. Play it casual.   "I do not believe you've come down here to critique my practices as a devout follower of the Ink Demon." The Bendy mask turned to watch Jack devour the can of coffee. Henry felt like he must have been smiling fondly. "You have… Come down here to present us with offerings. Kind ones."   "Yes." He replied calmly, remaining just as calm when the mask turned back to him. Sammy's body language spoke for him more than his words did. He was doubtful.   "Why?" A good question.   "I had nothing better to do." He responded truthfully, albeit only partially. "And you could both use the kindness I'm sure."

They could, they honestly could. After having their minds, bodies and souls taken from them, their identities torn asunder, both Sammy and Jack could only benefit from being treated with the one thing Joey had stripped from them. Humanity. That run, for such a tiny little gesture as offering Jack some coffee, Sammy let him go without a fight. Joey's speech was much more heated than usual, but nothing really seemed to change on the next loop. At least he didn't think so until he found a can of hot coffee waiting for him in Sammy's sanctuary, as well as a bowl of extra thick ink with the valve propped in the middle of it.

-

     His second gesture couldn't have been more easy. While Sammy still tried to sacrifice him, his speech was more subdoed. Almost playful in a way that said "I know what you did and I'm grateful, even if my actions don't show it". Joey's grip on him was too strong to escape with just one kind action, but not enough that Sammy even in his state of forgetfulness could get the mental image of Henry treating Jack to some coffee out of his inky brain. The alterations to his pattern gave Henry plenty of time to figure out just what to do for his encounter with Twisted Alice. Playing slightly into Sammy's delusions had allowed him to get close, so focusing on her obsession might coax what little of Susie was left. Because he'd gotten wise and asked what it was like to become a toon to the only other person qualified to give him a proper response. Sure Buddy couldn't talk, but his reignited personality had given Henry insight on what it was to become a cartoon character. There was a power struggle at first. The original human personality and the Toon's personality clashing in an effort to remain in or take full control. A chaotic and confusing process until one came out victorious. At first Boris had won… then Buddy had slowly begun resurfacing the more loops Henry went through. Now they had a mutual agreement. They needed each other to survive, and the same turned out to be true for Alice and Susie. Alice being the more dominant and jaded of the personalities, having long since fallen from grace after witnessing the sheer cruelty and lack of hope this abominable studio had to offer. Susie ended up being the weaker of the two, guarded by her dragon like a princess in a twisted castle. She sometimes spoke up, clearly disturbed by what their shared hands had done in the past, but Alice had too much of a grip on her to ever let her go. If Henry could properly appease the angel, he might be able to get to Susie as well. Give them… What? A glimmer of hope? Better than let them stew away in their rotten despair.   "You're staying. I'm going." He pleaded with Buddy after taking the gifts left behind by Sammy and Jack. "Don't give me that look, I've told you what she does when she gets her hands on you…" A soft whine as the toon wolf pleaded for him to reconsider.   "I know you worry, but I need to reach out to them. Even if it doesn't change much, they deserve some consideration." He pauses to think back on the tapes Susie had left, and then her final speech before he was forced to confront the brute Boris inevitably became. "After Joey used them it's the least I could do." Buddy (and no doubt Boris) growled in frustration before eloquently writing just what he thought of Joey. Henry crinkled his nose at the rather uncharacteristic choice of words, but the very last sentence made him smile somberly: “You don't have to fix Joey's mistakes.”   "I wish it was that simple. I really do." It wasn't like he had a choice, not when Joey thought he could evade the responsibility himself and pin it on someone else.

     Alice was fairly easy to butter up to. He'd entered her lair and sat through her little song like the patient man he was, and then when she finished up with her usual screeching finale he did something she didn't quite expect. He applauded. She was so caught off guard that she just stood there, even as the lights turned back on. Flabbergasted at the sudden adulation.   "What a finish, truly miss Angel, you're quite a gal." He'd continued to clap, bowl of thick ink balancing precariously on top of his head. "I'd offer flowers, but sadly all I have on me is ink…"   "...Why, what a flatterer…" She sounded uncertain, a hint of Susie just barely at the surface. She must have been quite shocked as well. No one had ever reacted to Twisted Alice's presence with such a welcoming embrace. She was a creature to be feared after all.   "Flatterer? Me? My goodness miss Angel, don't tell me you don't get the occasional fan…" he removed the bowl from his head and made sure the thick black blob was quite visible to her. An enticing offering provided by Jack Fain. It's not like he needed the excess ink.   "Sadly not. If only most visitors were as well mannered as you..." She crossed her arms, Alice's suspicions breaking through. "But that's to expect from the real creator, isn't it Henry?"   "Glad to see some recognition, but honestly I can't be credited for any of this. Not when it's been… Altered to such a degree." Henry looked around with a saddened expression. "Joey really managed to taint everything he touched..."   "Only if you let him." The Angel's hiss was a terrifying thing. "But it was so easy to let him in, wasn't it...? He had a way with words…" Susie was such a meek girl. A scared chick in a world conducted by the big bad wolf. And Alice? Alice was a fox that offered her protection. But Henry could be just as cunning provided he was given the chance. Always for a good reason, rather than satisfying his selfish desires. So very unlike his childhood friend.   "Words were his weapon of choice, until that wasn't enough." Henry offered her the bowl, watching as she inspected it. Tested it's stability. She seemed pleased.   "Why are you here, Henry? Why come back to this miserable place?" Alice's gaze was piercing, but not as malicious as it often was. "And I'm sure it's not due to nostalgia, or an excuse to flatter your way up to the heavens."   "I think I knew once." He replied in truth, because you didn't lie to an angel. "But now? Now I'm not so sure… I think Joey liked that naivety on my part. It certainly worked to his advantage."   "That it did, little errand boy. You're just as trapped as the rest of us…" She dismissed him. "You may pass freely… But don't think I'll show you mercy twice. You are, after all, still a thief."   "What's a man to do but try to protect a poor pup?" He couldn't help tease as he made his way to the door. He was free to explore her lair and go on about his "day" without her tasks or her looming presence. That was good enough a reward for him, even if it didn't promise Buddy's freedom from the cruel fate that awaited him.   "Such a shame that pup wasn't meant to be." Alice responded. "A shame indeed. He was such a nice boy..."

     This particular encounter gave him a lot to think. The people he'd once assumed to be monsters weren't inherently malicious. That much he'd figured from Sammy's behaviour after he'd played nice. But while most chose to cower and cry, or lose themselves to desperation and lies, Alice was simply resigned to the hand she'd been dealt. Because, honestly, she was in a terrible position to begin with. Even if Susie clearly wanted better, for the both of them. In the end, the angel was only trying to protect her vessel even if Joey set her on a most cruel path. She was tired of grasping on to shallow hopes of ever getting out. Rather be the hunter than the prey. That run, his old friend seemed even more frustrated with him.   "Stop humanizing them. There's nothing you can do for them." Joey had grit out through his teeth, trying to keep a smile that was as insincere as his speeches.   "You're wrong. There is something I can do." He'd responded, unbothered by the anger in his captor's words.   "And what's that?"   "Treat them with decency, which is something you never did."

-

     The Projectionist was a challenge. From what he could tell, Norman Polk had essentially gone feral from years of agony and isolation. Most of the Lost Ones even considered him a dumb and very violent animal. Alice thought of him as useful. Susie felt a terrible pity for him. And Buddy? Buddy both feared and felt anguish when confronted with the Projectionist's presence. Henry had known him for a short while, so he could understand the sentiment. Norman had been a good albeit quirky man.   "He looked after us…" Susie spoke over the intercom. "He was so kind. It hurts to see him like this… A monster."

While Alice didn't let up on her list of tasks, and did indeed always take the cartoon wolf as scripted, she'd started letting Susie come forth to speak to Henry. She had a lot to say.   "If I knew how, I'd help him." He watched the Projectionist walk through the flooded maze of projectors and hearts. Each step heavy, and the clicking of the projectors somewhat deafening. Occasionally it let out a soft crackly noise from its speaker.   "You'd die." Alice interjected.   "How so?"   "Why do you think it takes hearts, Henry?" The twisted angel asked. Come to think of it, he'd never considered the why of its actions. "It's because its own was stolen long ago."   "Joey stole his heart?"   "No my dear errand boy." Alice chuckled bitterly, before Susie took hold. "Sammy did…"

     Joey was getting awfully frustrated with him, so Henry gave in and followed the plot to a t on the next three runs. He needed to think anyway.  Think of how to address the problem. Because, really, how would he convince Sammy to halt his ritual to look for something he might not even recall ever having stolen? And then there was the matter of giving it back to the Projectionist without getting brutally killed. He decided to just wing it on his next break. Starting with visiting Jack with more coffee, if just to get Sammy to talk. It worked, but the prophet seemed hesitant to talk about the resident of level 14.   "That beast is a dangerous one… Nothing but my lord can stop it's rampage."   "That beast is looking for something someone took from him." Henry explained. "Or so I've been told."   "And how am I to fix this exactly, little sheep?" The deranged cultist crossed his arms. "Surely you mustn't think of me as a miracle worker?"   "Help me find it. I've been told you might know where to look."

Truth be told Sammy had no idea what he was on about, but he was adamant to repay him for once again bringing some semblance of joy into his favourite "sheep's" life. Luckily there wasn't any need to run around in futility, searching for something that might be long gone. The prophet's memory issues resulted in Sammy placing items he considered of value in the same place. A box hidden under the floorboards beneath the cot he'd set up in his sanctuary. Unluckily, a heart was not among the objects he'd stored. At least it seemed so since it wasn't anywhere to be found in the box of trinkets.   "Damn it…" he sighed sadly. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.   "I am sorry to disappoint." The Bendy mask betrayed no real emotions, so Henry wasn't too sure if the apology was genuine. He sounded a little miffed about having his personal space invaded, but didn't act upon it. "What is it you seek, exactly?"

Looking through the box, Henry gave a nonchalant shrug. He picked up a golden locket that was coated in dry ink, turning it slowly in his hand as he tried to figure out how to surpass this bump in the road. Sammy quickly reached out and took it from him, clearly upset that he'd touch his personal belongings.   "Don't touch that." The cultist hissed.   "Sorry…" he watched him put the locket back into the box, next to what appeared to be a series of unlabeled tapes. There was also a chain with a ring on it, and a few other trinkets that seemed to hold some sentimental value. "I know you can't remember much… but… Did you ever take a heart? A literal heart?"   "A… Heart..."   "Yes. I know it sounds strange but--"   "Not at all. They're plentiful down below." Sammy shrugged "Delicious too… More so than the ink or the soup. I cannot explain how."

And Henry would rather not have him explain, because his stomach wouldn't be able to handle it. He’d killed people before as a soldier, seen horrific things, but the thought of someone describing eating a human-ish heart made him sick.   "Then, yes a heart. Maybe not an ink one." He added, trying to keep the conversation on track.  The ex-music director paused, tapping a finger to the chin of the mask, before staring down at his own chest. Much to Henry's horror, he plunged his fist into his own torso and pulled out…Well it must have been a heart at some point.  Now it looked like an amalgamation of stitched flesh and all sorts of wires and weird clicking mechanisms. A perfect fit for the quasi-mechanical monster skulking around level 14.   "Would this be the heart in question?"   "W-what were you keeping it literally on your person for?!" He couldn't help spit out, much to the annoyance of the deranged ink man.   "Where would YOU keep a heart?" He huffed "It was safer here… And it felt important."

No kidding. And important it was, to the point where Sammy didn’t want to give it back. How was Henry going to convince him to do so?  Well…   “The person it belongs to needs it back.” He pleaded. “Can’t you please hand it over so I can give it to him?”   “I cannot trust that you’d find the rightful owner.” Sammy stated. “Sheep need guidance, not to guide. And you, little sheep, are risking falling prey to the wolves.”   "I can assure you I know the owner, and so do you." At least he had, once. "The Projectionist needs it back Sammy. Please, be reasonable."   "I am being reasonable. I'm protecting this from that horrific beast!" He held the heart closer to himself, very likely glaring beneath his mask.   "It doesn't need protecting from him! It needs to go back to him!" Henry argued back. The old cartoonist was getting fed up.   "No!"

That was… not the right answer. At least not when Henry was so close to a breakthrough. Or so he thought. He regretted what he had to do to get that heart in the end. Killing an unarmed man felt like cowardice, even if it was for a good cause.

     Level 14 was always such a dreary place. Even with a newfound goal, an old veteran like Henry still felt uneasy going through such a maze. After being forced to kill Sammy that run, he wanted good results. If just to justify his actions as being for the greater good. They… weren't.  The Projectionist charged as usual upon seeing him, and Henry had to fight his instincts to flee. Instead he held out his gift, closed his eyes, and prayed. No pain came, but the scream… That gutteral and mechanical crackling of sheer agony. Like hot iron had struck flesh. The Projectionist was screaming, it's chest ripping itself open to reclaim the missing piece. And then, when the wires shot out and took back the heart, the screaming only intensified. Boris took hold of the body he shared with Buddy. The cartoon wolf howling in despair to match the screams while curling into a tight shaking ball in the elevator. The Projectionist fell on its knees as it continued to scream. Henry's mind was fraying just listening to it. Watching the pitiful beast claw at its mending chest and screech until its speaker could handle no more.  A loud pop filled the air, and suddenly there was no sound. But the clawing continued The convulsing carried on. It was screaming without a voice and it was all Henry's fault. Coward that he was, he ran to the elevator and slammed a hand against the buttons. His eyes too blurry from regretful tears to see where he'd end up. Alice and Susie remained quiet. Their silence was damning. Condemning his actions and allowing his conscience to fall heavy with guilt.

     That time, once he set foot in the quaint New York apartment, Henry shakily sat down at Joey's table and stared into nothingness. A tired hollow man that couldn't bring himself to look at the grinning devil that was positively gloating with joy.   "I told you so." A choked sob and bitter tears followed. Henry hated how careful Joey's hands were as he wiped away his tears, and as he murmured sweet words into his ear. That burning cobalt gaze aglow with the flames of victory. Fuck him. Fuck Joey Drew. This old war veteran would not give in so easily. He just had to try harder.

-

     There was no point in following the plot. He felt like he had to fix the mishaps of his last run before he even tried to offer his services to either Tom or Allison. This much was clear once he stepped foot in the sewers, because instead of being happy to see him or even feeling timid, Jack outright attacked him on sight. Gurgling and hissing in rage at him having hurt Sammy in his last run.   "I know… I'm sorry…" he kept the irate swollen searcher at bay if only just barely, hoping to appease him with his sincerest regrets. "Can you take me to Sammy? I… I want to make it up to him. What I did was wrong."

More than wrong. It was damaging. Because instead of the usual inky figure clad in overalls, boots and a Bendy mask, Henry was met with a shivering searcher with said mask.   "Oh Sammy… I'm so sorry." He was at risk of getting his throat ripped out, but he still couldn't help kneeling down to make himself look less threatening to the frightened creature. The searcher didn't try to retaliate, instead it clutched its chest and groaned pitifully.   "I know what I did was wrong. But so was keeping Norman's heart." Not that Sammy wasn't aware of this. He'd claimed it to be important, and he'd wanted to protect it, but he'd also been reluctant to give it back. People's selfishness had already done so much damage to this studio, it was only cruelly ironic that in trying to do the right thing Henry too had been quite selfish. "Is there any way I can make this less painful for you?"

Gesturing vaguely at the searcher's current state explained enough. The creature that had at one point been a prophet that had in turn been Sammy Lawrence, seemed to hum in thought before nodding slowly. It dragged itself towards the upstairs, motioning for Henry to follow. He did so, with Jack right on his tail if only to keep a suspicious eye on him. Back in the music department Sammy proceeded towards his Sanctuary, which Henry quickly got to work on unlocking for himself. He couldn't exactly do the little wall trick Sammy did to get around. Once the projector turned on and he plucked or hit every correct note, Henry strolled towards the opening shutter. Sammy greeted him with his box of trinkets.   "Is there something in there you need?" He adjusted his glasses as he asked, trying to get a better look at the contents. The searcher nodded eagerly and pointed at a vinyl record, way at the bottom of the pile. "Oh… you want me to play that for you?"

More eager nodding and a wet sounding slap on the ground. Well it wasn't much but considering Sammy refused to touch it for fear of covering it in ink, Henry thought perhaps he hadn't heard any music in far too long. Besides the "hymns" he played for his Lord.   "Willow Weep for Me? I don't think I've heard this one." With careful hands he took the vinyl from the box and began to look for a record player. The dinged up gramophone in the corner was almost beckoning him to play it. Once he'd turned it on, the melody was quite soothing. His two searcher companions seemed to think the same. Jack seemed to finally relax and practically curled up near the record player, while Sammy seemed to bob slightly to the tune. Henry simply closed his eyes and listened to the music, only opening them back up when broken words began to sing along. Sammy's form was repairing itself. Slowly, but steadily. Going from slouching and being half submerged in a puddle to looking like he was kneeling on regenerating legs.

"Willo- we'p for…" the prophet coughed "...me."

     Not too long after Sammy's recovery, Henry left the music department. He had a lot of preparations to make if he wanted to do any more actual good rather than having a repeat of the last run. Hopefully Sammy would be in higher spirits once they met back up in the harbour. As loathsome as it was to fight him, it was better to see him so full of energy than cowering in a puddle. He already knew what he could do for the duo of survivors, but he had to make a few stops along the way. Starting with giving Buddy the notebook he carried on his person, and Boris his favourite bone. It was a delight seeing the toon wolf's eyes light up as he flipped through several pages of doodles, while he happily gnawed on that suspiciously human sized bone. Then he went to Alice and requested an actual "date" with the angel. Not in the romantic sense mind you, he loved his beautiful Linda like the goddess she was. He merely wanted to sit down, have a can of coffee, and talk. Let Susie feel normal for a little while after both she and the angel witnessed what happened to the Projectionist. Afterwards, he checked up on said ink creature and noted that it wasn't roaming like usual. Instead the Projectionist was sitting on a crate, staring at the wall where one of several Bendy cartoons was playing. It even chose to ignore Henry when he approached, one hand clutching its chest in slight pain. Still adjusting to what had been restored. On his way out, Henry swore he heard a soft "thank you" under all the crackling and static of its speaker.

     The Lost Ones greeted him with their sorrowful gaze as usual and he replied not with fear or revulsion as he once did, but with a kind smile and promises that one day he'd find a way to make it better. It wasn't immediate freedom like they desired, but it was something more tangible. Something more human. The path to fighting Buddy in his brutish form was as harrowing as ever, but Henry's mind was set. He left cans of soup out for the Butcher Gang, oiled the joints of the octopus ride Bertrum Piedmont's disembodied head resided in, talked to the animatronic despite having no proof that it actually moved, and even greeted the Ink Demon from within the Little Miracle Station where it always fought the Projectionist. Henry could practically feel Joey's outrage at his nonchalant actions. His carefree actions despite the hopelessness of his situation. Of their situation. Then when he met with Tom and Allison, he promptly disarmed himself and offered them his tools,before accepting captivity without a word. Once questioned, he gave them the honest truth. Hard to believe, but Allison was not as suspicious as her canine companion. It wasn't difficult to give her the proof she needed to know he was being genuine. Pity to see her so crushed that there really was no escape in their foreseeable future. Not just yet. But still a possibility. After all, the others were remembering with each gesture of kindness he offered them.   "Joey wants us to feel less than human." He told the not-quite-angel. "It's how he keeps us in the linearity of his failed ending. He can't accept that he can't win."   "But neither can we. Otherwise we'd already be free?" Allison sighed, Tom offering her a gentle pay with his good arm as they left the Harbour.   "Maybe, but giving up hope is the last thing I'd ever do. Then I'd just be letting him win." Henry calmly replied,ready to plummet very soon as he began walking over the precarious boards. "Joey is a man who dreams big. What he never did was have any faith in said dreams… Instead he forced others to do it for him. I'm tired of being his scapegoat, and maybe we won't get out today or tomorrow, but there's only so much he can throw at me until he gives in."   "So we outlive his dreams?" Allison asked.   "No. We just outlive Joey instead." With that said, Henry walked forward and felt as light as a feather as he fell into the depths. There was one last person to show some decency to. Even the demon deserved a gesture of kindness.

-

     Joey Drew was furious. For all that he'd spoke of belief and dreams in his many speeches he knew that Henry Stein, that stubborn fool, was right. There was only so much he could throw into the plot before he grew tired. His body was already giving in to time itself, and he'd never quite perfected his methods enough that he could make himself a reliable new form. Not without risking becoming one of the abominations… Buddy Lewek's Boris had been a fluke. A lucky match. The rest? The rest were adamant to not be what he'd set them to be reborn as. Even Susie had failed to emulate the character she so loved. And Henry? Oh his blood boiled… Why couldn't Henry give in?! Joey was so close,so close to getting his perfect Bendy. If the traitor would just let the Ink Demon consume him!

     A knock on the door caused him to rip up his storyboard with the ink pen he'd been using. Cursing himself, Joey crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trash can besides his desk. Already it was overflowing with similarly crumpled papers covered in ink stains. Looking at the clock, a few more profanities spewed from his mouth as he turned his wheelchair around. Who, for the love of God, was knocking on his door at 3AM?! Wheeling himself over, Joey practically ripped the door open.   "What?!" He didn't care if he was rude. His mood was completely sour and he hated being interrupted. To his shock and confusion, he was met with a face he thought he'd never get to see again. Nathan Arch smiled down at him with that unnerving toothy smile of his.   "Hello to you too, Mr. Drew." Joey blinked up at his old friend and rival. He hadn't heard from Arch since… Since he'd bought the studio and the Bendy IP… What could he possibly want now, when he'd already taken so much?   "Mr. Arch." He regained his composure. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"   "Oh, just dropping by to discuss something… Something very interesting." The man used his leg to gently push Joey out of his way, arms crossed behind his back as he invited himself in and began looking around. Joey glared behind his back and closed the door.   "At 3AM? Even for you, a punctual man, this is a bit much." He stated as he uneasily observed Nathan as he looked through his storyboards. "Couldn't it have waited until a more reasonable hour?"   "Since when were we reasonable men, Joey? Especially when you've been so… Cruel to me." The other turned to stare at him, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "The machine… Joey. You took the machine."   "Of course I did. It's mine." And no one else's. Not that fool Thomas Connor's, nor GENT's. The Ink Machine was his and his alone. "Yours is the studio and even my work. But the machine will never not be mine."   "Oh, that's where you're wrong. You see,the GENT contract you signed stated that it belongs to the studio… Thus, it belongs to me." Nathan stalked over, arms coming to rest on Joey's shoulder. "It's as simple as that."   "Not quite. As it is, it can't be moved…"   "Ah yes. Your little… Project." Nathan chuckled. "Show me. Show me the homunculus…"

     There was no saying no to Mr. Arch, and no actual way he’d be able to physically force him out, so Joey complied to his request. Wheeling back into his office where the machine resided, Nathan followed and watched with glee as Joey called upon the Ink Demon itself. It stood there, in all its despicably gruesome glory, staring at both men without visible eyes. It shrunk away from Joey, just as it always had.   "It's magnificent…" the awe in Nathan's voice was disturbing.   "It's a freak of nature." Joey hissed. "Imperfect and incomplete."   "In who's eyes, dear friend? Here stands defiance to God's will. Life created by the creation." The Ink Demon shivered, holding it's head in its mismatched hands. Trying to block out their words. "Why throw it away so eagerly just because it didn't correctly follow the template?"   "Because it's not enough! It needs to be perfect! It needs to be all we've ever dreamed of!"   "We? Oh Joey darling… did you really think creating a living toon would ever bring back your beloved Henry? Did you think he'd ever want you? When he had such a lovely girl that could give him what you never could?" Nathan laughed cruelly. "Henry Stein left you, because you were a selfish boar. And then you were so hung up on trying to win him back with extravagance that you couldn't stop and see what you already had! God above Joey, you were so desperate you hired a mere child that reminded you of Henry, only to torture him the same way you tortured your employees…"

The Ink Demon looked to them again, flinching when Nathan stalked forward and grabbed it by the chin.   "This, Joey, is not a failure! It's the doorway to immortality. A vessel of timelessness. A godly power that you rejected vehemently." Nathan's eyes were becoming crazed, that dangerous spark devolving into an inescapable madness and anger. "For what end exactly? To give it away to some shmuck that could never truly appreciate it?! Well… that won't do. That won't do at all!"

And without warning Nathan Arch did something Joey couldn't believe he'd ever dare. He plunged a fist into the Ink Demon itself, and tore out it's heart.   "NO!"   "If you won't accept this gift, then I shall!"

There was nothing to be done. The ink demon shrieked and soon the machine began its work. Ink flowed out of the nozzle, mixing with the distorting melting figure of the demon and pulling both it, and both men inside. As the world around them passed by, Joey could only watch as the ink began to claim both his form and the form of the one who dared intrude in his project. They both fell with a wet splat, a large puddle, before taking two very distinct newly reborn and remade forms. One a towering grinning demon with disturbingly human teeth. The other a little devil in a suit. The studio was without a narrator. This was the end.

[fromthadiningtable]

Vince Neil x Reader

Regardless

Anon request: hey, here's an idea for the dirt - you and vince were a couple, but you broke up when the band started getting famous and things got difficult (maybe cheating), but you never forgot about it and ended up coming back to help him after the accident with Razzle Can be a little angst / fuffly :)

Warnings: angst, fluff

Vince was your everything. You had never met someone who treated you the way he did. He always made sure you were having a great time no matter the setting and that you were always happy. You never for a second doubted your place in his life. Things were beginning to change though.

You met Vince through a music producer who you were working for, he swore up and down that this new band was going to really be something. Of course he came in all the time saying these types of things and it usually never panned out. When Mötley Crüe arrived at the studio and you heard what they had however, you knew these guys were going places. Their look and their talent was different from anything people were doing these days. They were destined for greatness and you had to give it to my boss, he was right and he had just hit the jackpot. While you loved their music, you swore to yourself you would never get involved with these guys romantically. You’d make the mistake before and it didn’t work out in your favor. Musicians were a dangerous breed. They were creative and enticing but most had a dark side that most people wouldn’t be able to handle. After a few sessions with the band, Vince began to slowly make moves on you. Subtle at first but nonetheless everyone could see it.

“So, when are you finally going to go out with me?” He asked one day while you were mixing some things for your boss in another room.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” You smirked at him and he nearly melted.

“Look,” he moved closer to you across the floor, “I may not seem like it but I’m a good guy. I party a little too much and I make mistakes but deep down, I’m alright. Just one dinner?”

“Let me think on it, okay?” You answered sighing. And eventually you did go out on that date. It went very well, a nice restaurant and great conversation followed by a walk downtown on the strip took place. It was only a few hours but the two of you were smitten with the other and it only continued to grow from there. You followed him on the road and eventually moved in with him in a beautiful California house. You didn’t know one day it would all be gone. He started partying even more heavily and the conversations between the two of you grew scarce. He always looked tired and sunken in under the eyes. You were lonely and felt like you had lost your best friend. You knew him being on the road and touring constantly would drive some sort of a wedge but you had assumed the love you had for each other would be invincible and overcome that. That wasn’t the case though.

•••

You had found a voicemail on Vince’s machine one day. It was a woman begging him to call her back. Your head spun with all of the ideas of what this could mean. Were you being cheated on? Were you overreacting? The only solution would be to wait for him to come home and confront him about it. You had had it with keeping everything in and moving past each other like ships in the night. You knew he’d be in the studio late tonight but you would patiently wait for him to come home no matter what.

He walked in the door hours later, gave you a kiss on the head and walked straight to the kitchen. You heard a beer bottle being cracked open in the silence and you sighed to yourself.

“How was your day?” He asked and you were a little surprised he even spoke to you this soon. You must have had some sort of telling look on your face.

“I found a voicemail from someone, Vince. Sounded like a desperate woman.” You said, looking out the glass window unemotional.

“Babe let’s not-“

“No, let’s please. Because for the past few months you don’t even speak to me or acknowledge I exist. And now this?”

“I swear it’s not-“

“Oh blah blah blah, I heard everything I needed to hear. You’re pathetic honestly. You drink your worries away because you don’t want to feel and you go to other women because you think I won’t understand. I don’t deserve it.” You said, and got up and walked straight to your bedroom to collect the bag you had packed. You knew giving him the chance to explain would only anger you more and there was no excuse he could possibly have to make anything better. You just weren’t cut out for this life. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and tears in his eyes.

“Please don’t. I’m begging you.”

You walked right past him like he was a ghost that you didn’t even notice. You waltzed right up to that door and never looked back.

•••

It had been years since you had even heard the name Mötley Crüe or Vince Neil. Throughout those years there was a great deal of heartbreak, after all you had lost the person who once meant so much to you. You hadn’t even been with anyone else it affected you so deeply. You quit your job at the music studio and went to a new company and even switched cities you had been living in to only avoid further heartache.

“Hey Y/N, did you see the news this morning?” An assistant for the studio peeked in at you working hard on mixing a new single and you sipped your first coffee of the day.

“Uh, don’t think so. Anything good?” You asked casually.

“That lead singer for Mötley Crüe? He killed some guy in a car wreck. Says it was drunk driving but he’s in the hospital now as well. How crazy is that?”

Your heart immediately sunk. Yes, you knew the lead singer pretty well and this news was not easy to swallow. You knew he would do something stupid eventually but not anything as drastic as this.

“Yeah, that’s um....pretty crazy.” You laughed uncomfortably. The whole day you were in a fog, you could barely focus on your tasks at hand and every time someone tried to talk to you, you couldn’t seem to follow the conversation or be even remotely interested. You went home, not feeling any better. Why did you feel guilty, like you were supposed to prevent any of this? Maybe if you hadn’t of left, things wouldn’t have turned out this way. You did your best to fight the urge to call him up, it was everything you could do. You barely slept, dreaming of Vince and the guilt in the pit of your stomach.

The next day you decided to make some phone calls and see if you could track him down. You didn’t want to go back to a person who had seemed to forget how important you were but after all, he was in critical need of some people to be there for him. Nikki hadn’t spoken to him in months, Mick didn’t answer but Tommy finally came through and gave you the phone number to his hospital room. You thanked him graciously and his only advice was to go easy on him. How bad had things gotten, you wondered. It took hours for you to gain courage to dial that number and hear his voice but finally you did.

“Hello?” You’d heard him say it so many times before but hearing his voice was still like a punch to the gut.

“Vince?”

“Yeah who’s this?”

“It’s uh, it’s Y/N actually.”

You could hear him shift around in what you assumed was the hospital bed. He didn’t say a word but only let out a huge exhale. You both began to talk at the same time and finally you waited and said what you had been waiting all day to say.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I left things, but I had my reasons.”

“I know, what I did was terrible but I miss you. I miss you every day of my life and I don’t know...maybe...maybe you could just come over tonight? They’re releasing me in a few hours.” He said, dying to see what your response would be. You didn’t want to get back together or rekindle anything but what could it hurt to be there for someone you cared about? So that night you went over to Vince’s, the same house the both of you had shared so many years ago. It was eerie pulling up and seeing your once home but you tried to shake all of these feelings and simply tried to be present.

You walked up to the door, shaking. It only took him a few seconds to open the door, like he’d been sitting there for hours waiting on you. You both stared at each other with no words for a moment. The years had been kind to him in looks, his hair still beautiful and bleach blonde and his body still very in shape. He had some cuts and bruises but otherwise he looked like your Vince. You stretched your arms out for a hug and he ran right into them. He immediately began sobbing like a little child. You walked in and sat down on the foyer step, holding him in your arms as he cried. It stayed like that for almost ten minutes until you broke the silence.

“I’m so sorry, about this and about everything.” You wiped a stray tear from your eye. Seeing him this torn up was something you thought you’d never have to face. He nodded and stayed silent, not really knowing what to say.

“How can anyone forgive me? You, Razzle’s family, my boys...anyone. How could they?” He looked at you, more tears forming in his eyes.

“Give it time.” You pulled him back in once more. He rested his head on your lap as you stroked his hair and rubbed his shoulder. You didn’t really know what to say either but you were so glad you came. You could tell just having you here was a good thing and was met with much gratitude.

“Do you think things could ever be the same between us?” He asked.

You really didn’t know how to answer that one. It really wouldn’t ever be but for the situation’s sake you gave a vague answer of ‘I don’t know’.

“But I’ll tell you one thing, I’m here now and I’ll stay until you don’t need me anymore.”

He squeezed your leg for reassurance that he understood what you meant. You continued stroking his hair and whispering encouragements until he finally was tired enough to head to bed. You decided it would be best if you stayed in another bedroom but did make sure he was asleep and safe in his own. You sat on the edge of the bed (that was also once yours together) and held his hand in yours. You thought for sure he was asleep when you whispered an, ‘I love you’ in his ear before getting up to get ready for bed yourself.

“I love you too.” He said weakly as you were in the doorway. You smiled to yourself. Maybe things wouldn’t be the same, but they were going to be okay and you were content with that.

(I know this is a lil sad but I liked the concept, and i hope you guys enjoy it too!!)

[ryouverua]

Trial 4 (Part 1)

Investigation stuff is here (1) and here (2) and as usual, part 2 is where I lay out my idea of how things went down before the trial - so without further ado (and with great trepidation), let’s go.

Uuh..... Why are you asking that? Last time you asked about the rules, it was because there were two kills. This time there’s only one... so why do you think there would be a split decision?!?!

Hey hey, what?! What?!

NO I DON’T THINK WE SHOULD IGNORE THIS TBH!!!

I-It’s called character development, damn it!

Alright, time to get to the meet of the trial. What’s the first topic of discussion?

OMFG KOKICHI

I-I mean, at least he isn’t saying he himself did it, right? So, uh, look! More character development! somehow I don’t think Kaito would find comfort in this statement

But naturally, Kokichi being... well, himself, does come prepared with evidence. Kaito did get logged out first, after all - though again, I think the key thing is that he didn’t do it himself.

I guess the real question that I keep going back and forth on is this: does Kokichi actually think Kaito is the culprit, or is he just using the suspicious circumstances around him logging out as a way to hammer in his point about trusting the people around you blindly? Because on the one hand feel like Kokichi might actually know (based on my theories around the case and even with the question he asked at the beginning of the trial) but he’s also very, very fast to pounce on Kaito here. Maybe it’s a case of being inspired to use the puzzle pieces around him to prove something...

Anyway, everyone comes out immediately to defend him because it’s Kaito damn it, and....

Kokichi is back with that cutting truth again. It’s interesting - he’s always very playful when he’s outright lying, but he becomes ominously serious when he’s truthful.

It’s only been a few minutes, but it really feels like Kokichi is seizing control of the trial. Are we about to thrown down with him?!

Dame da ze! Zen zen dame da ze! I feel like more than ever, this trial will end up with me referring to Umineko a lot. I’ve been trying to avoid it up to this point, but with all this talk about truth and lies along with believing in others vs distrust.... Well, apologies in advance oTL I’ll try to keep it loose and explain as I go. This trial is already giving me all sorts of Feelings.

Anyway, discussion time! We found poison, Kaito logged out over an hour before everyone else, etc...

also Himiko says ‘any last words to Kaito’ at one point and it’s kinda damn hilarious

Anyway, the way to kill someone outside of the game is with poison, and Shuichi pretty quickly points out that the symptoms don’t match what was written on the bottle. And honestly, I’m pretty sure Kokichi knew that already.

Hmm... but I guess the question is, was it a diversion to think Miu died by poison or the original intended victim?

I really thought it would end up being a big red herring, but here we go! It’s the so-called murder weapon after all! Oh, but now that I think about it, I should have realized - DR2 had ‘the fun house’ end up being the murder weapon, so it would make sense for the chapter 4 weapon to be ‘the environment/world’ itself again. Glad they addressed it quickly, though!

Oh god, I know this is supposed to be a funny moment but this is actually hurting my heart because it is really solidifying my theory of him not remembering the VR world at all.

MAKI DON’T BE RUDE

please be wrong please be wrong please be wrong he sounds so lost and confused and everyone is assuming it’s because he’s a Big Dumb Wild Boy who Doesn’t Know Anything and is Very Slow asdkflj this is making things even worse

I don’t know if it’s common or not for people to have made this hypothesis before going into trial 4 or not (I’d be curious about Kaede’s trial too tbh) but it’s... making things really painful...

SLOW CLAP

And this is the important question. She was supposed to be together with the others, but she very clearly went off on her own - as well, she was supposedly stuck on that side of the map. But of course, she set her own avatar parameters to ‘object’ for that very reason after her, uh, very subtle move of separating the two sides via tossing the bridge in the river.

Anyway after some weird back and forth about Himiko’s chest between her and Kokichi seriously what -

I just wanted to isolate Gonta’s absolute abhorrence at the idea of hitting a lady. 8′D e-even if I think you strangled her with your bare hands, I... I-I guess it’s better than beating by a long shot...

It’s so nice to have these two agree on something every now and then ~

:( And dialogue like this makes it that much worse if what I think is coming is actually coming. But yeah, we decided on strangulation in the end. To be fair, all of this stuff was somewhat easy.

MAN Kokichi can’t resist taking potshots at Maki! I’m starting to wonder how attached you are to your life, kiddo!

Yeah, but... if she was distracted? By, say, being in the middle of her own attack? A surprise attack on her?

Oh, okay! I’ll admit, I didn’t think we would be going in the direction of having a weapon outside of bare hands!

HA my laughter was ugly I’ll admit.

Anyway, okay, apparently it’s a sure thing that the culprit used something!

Okay... yeah, I totally only figured this out when Shuichi said it was something we found in the process of the investigation. Helps that there’s nothing else that would fit - and oh, damn it, the importance of objects not breaking wasn’t related to Miu setting her avatar setting to object, it’s because the toilet paper wouldn’t break. Oooooh.

OH WTF UM H-HI GONTA??? holy shit you scared me

Okay, see, I get it now, but it’s totally fair for Gonta to argue the point about toilet paper being impossible because I fell in the same trap. Aah, I kinda feel dumb now. 8′D with that said oh god wasn’t the toilet paper around the same area we found you right after that loud bang...

NO SHUT UP KOKICHI DON’T BE RUDE TO GONTA

FUcK

FUCK FUCK FUCK

no I’m 100% sure now, this does it for me

HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND BECAUSE *HE DOESN’T REMEMBER ANY OF THE VIRTUAL WORLD SHIT*

I FEEL LIKE I’M GOING CRAZY HERE

god they just think he’s dumb

but of course he would question them all talking about how toilet paper could be used as a rope, because that’s not possible!!! And why are they suddenly talking about how in this area of the school they went to, that he doesn’t even remember, toilet paper can suddenly break the laws of physics as he understands them??? Of course he doesn’t understand why they’re suddenly talking about the ways in which real world rules don’t apply! If you hadn’t been there to observe it, it would be incredibly difficult to wrap your mind around! But no, because it’s Gonta, they’re just brushing him off! AAAAAAAAAAARGH STOP TALKING OVER GONTA PLEASE LISTEN TO HIM

And fucking Gonta just accepts that he must be wrong and they’re right because he’s ‘such a stupid boy’ oh god my heart is crying for him right now

Shuichi I understand you’re trying to be patient with him and listening to him, and being kind, but you are actually being dismissive and patronising in your attempts and kindness....

HOLY SHIT HIMIKO did Tenko’s death set your burn level to third degree??!?!

It’s okay K1-b0, just keep supporting your girlfriend kiiruma even in death I suppose . It’s probably better that you don’t understand tbh...

They do bring up the question of why the toilet paper was found where it was, and other than it being in the same place around a certain individual and flagging my suspicions, I can’t think of why that would be, honestly! Wouldn’t it have made more sense to send it flying off with Miu, assuming she was killed on the roof and then ~transported~ over to the chapel side?

But everyone moves on, and the hammer is brought up. Fair - the hammer was found with the body. But of course that brings up why the hammer is there, and who brought it...

Yeah, damn. We really are going the ‘Miu tried to kill someone’ route. I knew she had started freaking out badly when that last flashback light was brought out, but she had broken down mentally to this level...

MAN I love some of the creative stuff they did with the text in this game! This might be one of my favourites, tbh!

D... Did you just tell us the answer? Seriously, what’s your game, Kokichi???

BULLSHIT YOU DID

The fact that he can put that question out there like this, so calmly... I think that’s part of what makes him so terrifying. But I think he knew that long before this trial...

... Which.... is why he was so keen on making sure Gonta was with him at all times...

Is this the ‘interesting thing’ he was talking about to Monokuma about? When he said Miu was ‘planning something interesting’??? How in the world did he figure out she was plotting to kill him in such a mad-scientist-style way?

one psyche taxi later

I just want to point out how in sync the two are right now. I mean, I’m pretty sure this is intentional on Kokichi’s part considering he’s practically leading Shuichi from point A to point B, but I have a feeling he is quite pleased at how quickly Shuichi is picking up the breadcrumbs he’s sprinkling behind him.

Ahaha aaaaaw, Kaito really can’t catch a break even when he’s defending Miu...

But yeah - I actually forgot about that point. As important as it seemed that Kaito was logged out early, Miu logged in last. That’s plenty of time to set up a murder scene beforehand!

omfg triple x over her face MONOKUMA ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

But yes, once the cellphone is brought back up the profile of the would-be blackened in an AU trial is complete. I wonder how things would have gone then?

And it’s finally dawning on everyone that there is no ‘student X’. But I think, what they seem to be dancing around as they get caught up in this, is that there’s a second killer here - and outside of Kokichi (sorry, but true), no good answer that will leave them feeling satisfied.

Yeah, I thought so. And Kaito gets rightfully pissed, because now it’s pretty clear that putting Kaito out as the potential culprit has just been one long trick by Kokichi.

“This is a game of wolf and sheep. And if you don’t accept that there is a wolf amongst this flock of sheep, you’ll all be devoured.” There’s no 16th student to fall back on, unfortunately...

Man, it is quite clever for Kokichi to have taken the situation he was handed to target Kaito like this. I mean, I hardly think Kokichi knew all of what Miu was planning to the last detail! But I do think that he has been gunning for Kaito for a while now - maybe since Kaito punched him?

No, actually - I bet it was when Kaito called Kokichi ‘naive’ during the previous trial for not trusting people. This is his retaliation. “See what would have happened if I had trusted Miu?” 

Oh, this is definitely a fucking call-out by Kokichi against Kaito! Is he trying to dethrone Kaito as the fill-in leader? It would explain why he also seems to be targeting Shuichi!

fml is this a mastermind hint??? That the mastermind is female??? The ‘Mommy’ you’ve forgotten is the mastermind????

“- ANYWAY forget that weird manufactured drama.”

I feel like I’m repeating myself trial after trial, but yeah, once again, he really does have a point! How would it have gone down?

Kokichi’s avatar would be found unmoving, but with no fanfare - someone would have come across him in the roof. The most likely candidates would be Shuichi in his search for Kaito, as Maki would be stuck on the other side. Because there would be no indicator of Miu being on that side, she would be able to sneak back onto the other side and dispose of the hammer quietly.

Tsumugi spotted her, yes, but would she bring it up in a strong enough way to get everyone’s attention, or would Miu bully her down by plainly (lol) stating the rules again, as she originally laid them out?

They would all log out, with Kaito having been logged an hour before.

Bam - Kokichi, with no physical marks on his body, but with blunt force trauma - he’d be clutching his head, perhaps, and would maybe have subconjuctival haemorrhaging if Miu was lucky, playing right into the idea of it being the poison.

And of course the poison would have been found on Kokichi’s seat. Miu would pull up the log in/out records, etc etc, and Monotaro wouldn’t be needed... probably.

Also how incredibly shocking would it have been to find Kokichi Ouma dead in his chair at the end of Chapter 4?!

“I AM THE GOD OF THIS WORLD!!!”

Yeeeeah, that really does put a whole new spin on her desperation in getting us there, huh?

Harsh............ but of course....

That was the whole point. Well-played, Kokichi Ouma. Well-played.

[tatlmaslany]

The first time Helen Shaver saw Tatiana Maslany on screen, she knew she wanted to work with her.

“I was asked to sit on the jury of the Whistler Film Festival about five years ago,” Shaver recalls. “I was adjudicating films, and there was a small Canadian film called Picture Day that was one of the films that we were looking at. That was the first time I’d ever been conscious of Tatiana, and I watched this movie, and my mouth just dropped, like ‘Who is that?'”

Months later, Shaver was flipping through TV channels in the middle of the night and stumbled upon a first season episode of a new sci-fi series starring a familiar face. She was enthralled. “The next day, I called my agent and said, ‘I want to do Orphan Black,'” she says. “‘It’s a fabulous show, and it has that young woman, Tatiana. I want to direct her.'”

Not only did Shaver’s phone call manifest her wish, but it led to one of her best creative experiences in a 20-year directing career that includes gigs on such TV shows as Judging Amy, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Person of Interest, Vikings and Anne. “I love Orphan Black,” she says, phoning from Los Angeles. “I loved my experience there. For me, as an artist and a collaborator and filmmaker, it really became a creative home.”

Shaver directed only three episodes of the Space hit—which is currently airing its fifth and final season—but she has lensed some of the most memorable scenes of the series: Helena watching Rachel and Paul have sex through her sniper scope, Alison and Donnie twerking and Paul’s death.

And then there are the Cosima and Delphine scenes.

In portraying Orphan Black‘s main romantic couple—coined Cophine by fans—Maslany and co-star Evelyne Brochu have screen-melting chemistry on their own, but Shaver’s direction managed to kick it up a notch, expertly excavating the conflicting motivations pulsing beneath the characters’ tortured scientist/experiment love affair. For example, there is no scene that captures the essence of Cophine’s complicated history more succinctly than in Season 2’s “Ipsa Scientia Potestas Est,” where shots of a fearful Cosima receiving an injection are intercut with images of Delphine comforting her.

The same goes for Season 5’s “Ease For Idle Millionaires,” when the couple finally chooses to stop fighting each other and accept the complex dynamics of their relationship, the camera swirling around past and present versions of them as they build up to a kiss. After the episode aired two weeks ago, Cophine fans swarmed Twitter to post their appreciation of Shaver’s work.

So what is Shaver’s secret to directing such emotionally effective scenes?

“There are many, many elements to the director’s job, but the primary one to me is that the director is the container, the safe room in which actors are willing to speak their personal truths through the mouthpiece of the character,” she explains. “My willingness to be present, it creates a safe space, a womb some might say, where the actors can expose themselves through the characters to each other—and as you see with these two women on screen, it’s compelling beyond belief.”

And Shaver has another directing superpower.

“I’m not afraid of actors,” she says. “I don’t feel the need to minimize that. I truly respect actors.”

While that may seem like a given for someone working in the TV industry, Shaver learned that not everyone shares her view when she crossed over from acting to directing in the 1990s. During her first-ever production prep meeting, someone made a comment that she never forgot. “We were talking and I said, ‘Oh, the actor will need blah, blah blah,’ and somebody—a writer—said, ‘Oh, it’s just a f–king actor,'” she recalls. “And ‘f–king’ was not the important adjective; the important adjective was ‘just.’ The thing is, most people have no concept what acting is, what the internal process of acting is, what the vulnerability, what the exposure, what the trust is, the waiting for an hour while they set up the lights, and now there’s only 10 minutes left and now do your close-up. It’s 7 o’clock in the morning and you’ve been up all night talking to your mother because your father is sick, you still gotta do your close-up. It doesn’t matter. And because most people don’t have a concept of what that is, many people feel like they are held captive by the actor. You need them, but, damn it, there they are with all their humanity and foibles and all the things that you can’t control, and so they are afraid of the actor—and fear is the antidote to creativity.”

“The other thing that happens is kind of a sycophant approach of talking to an actor as if they are a child,” Shaver adds. “Or some emotionally disturbed adolescent who’s going to tear the place down and run screaming from the room or something.”

Obviously, that’s not the environment fostered on Orphan Black, a show that depends on the gifts of its lead actor more than perhaps any other TV show in history, and a show whose lead actor is known nearly as much for her tireless work ethic as she is for her mind-boggling abilities.

“[Tatiana] is just an extraordinary talent,” Shaver says. “Just the breadth of her gift, her willingness, her gift, her intellect, her spirit, her no fuss, no muss [attitude]. And with the extraordinary amount of work that that woman did, there was never a complaint. Just exemplary.”

Shaver also credits Orphan Black co-creators and showrunners Graeme Manson and John Fawcett with giving her the freedom to get the most out of every scene. “The line between writing and directing is not this hard line like some showrunners have, you know, ‘I say she picked up the teacup on this word, so that’s when the teacup gets picked up.’ That’s a sort of thing that exists certainly in some productions, but from the get-go, I was really offered the opportunity to take the material and direct it as a little movie the way I saw.”

That approach allowed Shaver to choreograph the pivotal scene in “Ipsa Scientia Potestas Est” where Rachel sexually dominates Paul in a chair. “The original script, for example, was that Rachel pushes Paul onto the bed and climbs on top of him,” she says. “So I looked at the script and said, ‘OK, Graeme, so we’re looking for female dominated sex, right?’ And he says, ‘Yes.’ So I go, ‘OK, let me think about this.’ During the course of prep, I conceived this whole thing where it was out in the living area of the space, and I thought Rachel is not doing anything for his pleasure. He is there for her. And all of that was not just allowed but encouraged and embraced in the environment that was there.”

Shaver also switched up Cosima and Delphine’s flashback scene in “Ease For Idle Millionaires,” animating a formerly staid scene with all the emotion the situation demanded. “The scene in the flashback was written that they’re sitting on the couch and that’s how it played out in the first rehearsal of it, and it was quite quiet and passive in a sense,” she recalls. “It was a little conversation, and I said, ‘No, wait. Hold on. Let’s go to the beginning of this moment. What is the beginning of this moment?’ There’s this huge betrayal that Cosima is recognizing and also this recognition that she is property. All these things, the pain, the tearing away, the outrage, the betrayal, how can you even stay sitting on the couch beside [Delphine]? And bang, Tatiana was up and then Evelyne was up, and we shot that a number of times, allowing it to evolve in its own way each time. And then in the cutting, once they got into an embrace, using bits from multiple takes so that it builds that kind of cacophony of emotion, which is true to what happens to a human being, not just on the outside but on the inside when such a moment is going on.”

Shaver gives props to Maslany and Brochu for forming a “circuit of energy” with her in order to better understand—and ultimately elevate—the scene. “That’s a complex moment, and these women, as they have each time, completely gave themselves to the moment, to me. And I take it quite personally. I feel like I’m being given an enormous gift. I mean what is greater than to be trusted?”

And while the Cophine scenes will always have a special place in Shaver’s heart—”To me, love is love, and love is the only thing that is real,” she shares—she has a few other favourite Orphan Black memories as well. “I’d say the delirium in Episode 306 [“Certain Agony of the Battlefield”] that begins with Sarah in Mexico going into her dream state through the tunnel into the kitchen with Beth. I’m extraordinarily proud of that on every level. I think it’s exquisite performances—or performance,” she corrects herself, laughing. “It’s all her! I think visually, in terms of my work with the camera, that’s a beautiful piece of work. And the sequence with Helena, Paul and Rachel, I love that very much.”

Most of all, Shaver says she will always remember her relationship with Maslany—who drew her to Orphan Black in the first place, and with whom she will team up with again in early 2018 to film Pamela Sinha’s Happy Place.

“Happy Place explores the lives of seven women aged 23 to 60 who are residents of an in-patient care facility: a microcosm for the world outside its walls. What is it to live inside the suffering of these women...addressing the idea that we are not so different from each other, though our circumstances may be? Each woman must try to find a way to fit into a world that can't respond to or redress a pain that is unseeable. But they are also the ones who can teach one another how to live with what happened to them as no one else ever could. Even if they can't always do it for themselves.” (source)

“I remember the day that Tatiana and I met,” she says. “Even though I’m certainly old enough to be her mother, we recognized each other immediately. It’s as if our souls are the same age, or as if we live in the same … whatever. We exist with the same sort of principles.”

[travelerwithacause-blog]

The Culture of Kindness

Hello you beautiful humans and thank you for being rad enough to take the time to read my posts. I know that they’re nothing professional or marvelous, but I enjoy writing them. As it turns out, this is a fun, and semi-creative way for me to recall the “adventures” I’m having here.

As most of you know I have been volun-working at Missionvale Care Centre since July 3rd. Now let me tell you, I have loved every moment of my time here, but it is NOT what I had expected it to be. Upon my arrival at Missionvale I had all sorts of ideas and plans for what I wanted to do. Turns out those things are not the things that are needed at Missionvale. So I have abandoned any thoughts of doing things focused on nutrition or gardening; instead I have switched modes and focused on helping the Health Promotion Team with the things that they are doing. For example, they wanted to teach the young girls about their periods. So I helped! Definitely not something I ever thought I would help with, but I did! I actually ended up drawing a poster-size uterus for their class, and I am proud to say that it was laminated!!! It was quite entertaining attempting to draw such a large uterus and learning the names of everything in Afrikaans…kind of.

For those of you that are not so fortunate as to have experienced South African culture, I will tell you know it is truly wonderful, it is also quite relaxed and not always the most organized. That last word organized that’s where I begin to struggle. For any of you that know me and know how I like to work, you’ll know that I like things to be organized and planned out. That’s just not how things work here. It’s more like hurry up and wait to do something that’ll you will be told only moments before you do it. I will confess, I hated this when I first arrived and there are days that I struggle with it still, nevertheless it is teaching me and I am learning. What’s that saying that so many older adults have told me most of my life…patience is a virtue…yeah, I’m learning just how true that is. I feel though, that even if it makes me go slightly crazy, that it is good for me. It is something that I’m hoping to bring home with me. If only I could bring the relaxed pace as well; American’s seriously do need to learn how to slow down and just enjoy what they do and enjoy the life that they are living. So much of life passes us by without us even realizing it, it’s a real shame.

I feel very fortunate to be volun-working at Missionvale Care Centre. Waking up at 6:30 every morning and going in to cut loaves of bread in half may not be the most exciting thing in the world, but that’s just the start of the day. All good things come in time after a little bit of hard work. The good things that often times follow the 6:30 A.M. alarm are the smiling faces, the jokes, and the family in this community that I am obtaining. To be able to go into a place that just seven and half weeks ago was really quite unfamiliar to me and see faces that I know, friends that speak languages so different from my own and yet are patient with me as we work together to have conversations….the feeling cannot be put into words. This really is something that one must experience for one’s self in order to truly understand. Seeing familiar faces, that pick you out of all the volunteers just because the two of you have been working on words and sayings in Afrikaans and know that we must practice each day, oh man, my heart swells with love. Seeing the same kids at the end of the day, every day and becoming a human jungle gym and having seven amateur hairstylists all at once-it’s just perfect. I’m telling you guys, if you haven’t done something like this in your lifetime, you should really give it a shot. It doesn’t have to be for three months, a month even is great. You’ll make lifetime friends in a world so different from your own, it makes me mean a whole heck of a lot more! I pinky promise.

 Another rather important piece of South African culture is rugby. On August 19th I had the opportunity to attend my very first international rugby match, South Africa vs. Argentina. It was in the stadium here in Port Elizabeth that was built for the 2010 Soccer World Cup. I’m pretty sure there were somewhere around 40,000 people at this match. It was PACKED! The vibes were so great throughout the whole match; watching the Springboks (S.A.) win 37-15, wooo, it was great. The rugby fans are about as good at the actual sport as well! South Africans in general, at least from my experience, are very kind people in general. Then bond together over a love a rugby and you basically have BFF status with everyone. One example of a South African rugby fan’s kindness can be described through a short story. I was able to take a good friend of mine with me to the match, afterwards we had a drink at a rad little place and then went on over to a restaurant called Flava. My friend happens to be best friends with a couple of the waitresses at this restaurant, so despite it being closed when we got there, we were still allowed to sit at a table and order wine and desserts. There was a table a three older men sitting at the table next to us, they had clearly been to the match and two of the three had enjoyed a few drinks. The oldest gentleman, and most sober, started chatting with us, asking about the match and all sorts of nice things. After a bit as our lovely waitress took our orders for our desserts, he decided that we needed a dessert platter for the two of us to share. He spoke to the chef himself and had it all arranged for us. At the end of the night when it came time for us to pay we found out that we only had to pay for our wine, the lovely gentleman had paid for our dessert platter and never said a word about it! It really was the cherry on top of a perfect evening.

Ahck! I nearly forgot to tell all of you about the Kasi Hop! The Kasi Hop was the evening before the rugby match. Back home there are often pub crawls or bar crawls. These are pretty normal and are usually for one thing or another; fundraisers, company bonding, shits and giggles, etc. The Kasi Hop is a “shabeen crawl”! A shabeen is the name for a bar in a township. *Quick history lesson: townships are the areas that black people were forced to move to during apartheid. People were forced to build shacks/homes out of whatever supplies they could find. Many blacks still live in the townships to this day.* Now, normally a white person wouldn’t be in a shabeen as it probably wouldn’t be terribly safe. Have no fear, the Kasi Hop is a very safe way for us young international (and mostly white) kids to experience the shabeens! A lovely lady named Joy organizes the Kasi Hop and hosts the group at her home where her and her parents provide a nice, South African dinner before going into the township of New Brighton to the shabeens. She has rules such as, no bags, cell phones, or cameras leave her house. She does this so that no one loses anything too important while in the townships, personally I think it’s smart and kind of her. We visited three different shabeens; the first two were quite similar, the third was very modern and yet it was nearly empty. I’m not entirely sure why, maybe it was more expensive, who knows. Our last stop was back to the first shabeen we went to, it was a little odd at first, but ended up being nice because we recognized some of the faces. We did manage to get the full shabeen experience when we went back though. These two guys started fighting and naturally a crowd gathered around them, then all of the sudden everyone back up and Joy’s brother came over to myself and another girl and told us that we had to back up “right now”. Not being able to see what exactly was going on, we were a bit confused. We finally got one of the people around us to tell us what was going on…as it turns out, one of the two guys in the fight pulled out a gun! It was a bit crazy. Not for a second did I find the situation scary, the locals didn’t really give me the chance to be scared. They protected all of us as if we were their own family. They knew that we were visitors and apparently that meant that we were going to receive extra protection. I’m not going to lie, it was incredible to see. All of these people, total strangers to us, putting us before themselves and not thinking twice about it. I mean, how often does that happen, how often do you or I think ‘that if something bad is going to happen, I’m going to protect the person next to me first?’-it was so amazing. It goes back to how kind the culture is here.

  Well folks, that’s it for now. Thanks for sticking with me on this journey. Each of you are amazing and I love you.

  Ubuntu.

[theillustratorscourt-blog]

Here I am! A day before June 2017 and frantically getting in several projects and written documents that needed tending to! I cannot even believe that it’s almost half way through this year already..

I’ve made a few new art pieces for my portfolio but still struggle with finding the creative energy to attack some of my narrative pieces, which I know I need. I also stare endlessly at my website and cannot see a solid style. My friends say they can tell, but to me, every art piece looks like it’s by a different artist. I’ve been trying to loosen up and create subject matter (and in my own way), that I actually want to create. Yes it’s important to look a the market you’re trying to break into and what the current trends and subjects are, but I create more fluidly and better when I just breathe and think about whatever it is I feel like drawing.

It feels impossible sometimes to be an artist. I have good days and bad days and they do NOT work with deadlines. I say to myself, “How can you create on days you have zero drive ?!”

Other days I’m bursting with creative energy and spend the entire day at my tablet. I just can’t seem to force this energy where it really needs to be. I do what I can, when I can and hope with all my might that in the days prior to a deadline, I can spew out good work, last minute, after having spent days just staring at the screen in a dark funk. I wouldn’t want to be anything else but it must be really nice to have jobs and careers that just require you to go through the motions and labor. I’ve yearned for a solid, reliable paycheck and consistent work that always had an intuitive map to lead me through from start to finish. That is just not how being an artist is, at least not how I have experienced it.

As a work from home mom, it’s awesome but is also difficult on the creative process. The current situation of not being able to close a door behind me to do computer work (since I have roommates and the computer is in the living room), is a challenge to say the least. My eldest son is out of school the end of this week and then it’s OFFICIALLY summer! I’m searching for jobs in the area that I could bring my kids too, since daycare is financially out of the question. So far…unlicensed childcares seems to be my only option. I’ve been interviewing around.

Being a young mother is a perk when interviewing since you’re inherently ahead of the 18-19 year old’s fresh out of high school, when it comes to the responsibility role. (If my 18 year old self could see me now, her jaw would drop haha) I FEEL that I am struggling to adult properly but really, I’m a far cry from where I was. Living expenses may be hard but my kids have made me such a better person; more patient, understanding and caring. I literally interact with people differently and view the world with a totally distinct perspective. I even think being a mom lends to creativity in a way, since watching how a child thinks, feels and deals with day to day life is excellent fodder for children’s illustrations.

I’ve still been nervously eyeing a few illustration agencies and then eyeing my portfolio, not sure whether I am ready to apply. A browse for ages through their represented artists and most have an obvious style. The art comes in all styles, from very realistic and polished to cartoony and simple, but 95% are chocked full of complete, pretty images that have narrative. How do I compare? Will I be turned down and never looked at again if I reapply? Can I get ANY advice from agencies or professionals on what to add? This is why I follow the SVSLearn team closely, and other resources, consistently reminding myself to add, add, add to my portfolio.

“Don’t put in what you don’t want to end up drawing for clients” is a hard one because, I want to show that I can draw a wide variety of stuff but I don’t want to get stuck drawing one of the things I hated drawing but someone happened to like. So many anxieties.

I am trying to create a sort of “This year’s style index,” based on Julia Patton’s, “Style Bible,” ideas. I’ve written in a notebook A-Z over several pages and filled each letter with things, animals, objects, foods etc. to draw and fill a bound side-portfolio (since I digitally create, I’d just be indexing these images on my computer and then, if I want to show them, print and stick them in a binder. It’s pure genius: a prospective client wants to know how you draw bids, cars, trees, fruit, water, men, women, expressions, seashells…The ideas are endless but the core ones are invaluable, especially for a children’s book artist. You’re supposed to update at least every year or when you think your style has changed. This is helpful for someone like me who feels they have several possible styles. I could just fill a page with different ways I’d draw dogs or aliens or unicorns or toasters, or maybe I only draw toasters one way; so I’d only draw one toaster.

This is a work in progress, as I have more ideas than I have had time to commit to the screen. Anyhow, this brings me back to wondering how I compare to currently represented illustrators. I know I lack some technical skills but I make up for that with the bizarre, nonsensical “style” I often dabble with when it comes to furniture, perspective and occasionally people. There’s thousands of artists who make a living with art that doesn’t represent perspective or anatomy but I’d like still like to improve my knowledge of how to create working anatomy, color theory, light and basic perspective, so that I can create better around those fundamentals. There is so much more I wanted to do in art college, as I learn better with an in-person instructor. I’ll need to make use of the online resources and instructors soon if I cannot go back to school next year.

I need to commit to some self-initiated projects. Other than overtly children-related illustration, I was considering labels and food packaging like wine, beer and baking, as I love so many of the labels I see but don’t have the faintest clue how you get hired for labeling. Art licensing maybe? I have a lot more to learn. My other idea is to create an illustrated commission infographic for my protentional freelance clients, since many do not have any prior knowledge about hiring illustrators freelance, cost or standard timelines etc. Basically, it’ll be an FAQ to all my most frequently received questions for hiring projects, but fun, colorful and illustrated!

So my sort of to-do’s are:

·         still try to apply to some agencies,

·         keep my eyes out for agents, work on the style index,

·         Style Index

·         start more self-initiated projects

·         create some illustrated client-related commission info-graphs,

·         create mailers and send

·         work on the technical skills: anatomy, color theory, light, perspective

·         set aside some savings (somehow) for moving, new computer/tablet etc.

·         casually look for art related work in OR and prepare for the impending move.

·         Continue being health conscious and take care of myself

Oh, I almost forgot (irony for what I am about to write), I was fortunate enough to be able to receive a full learning disability testing. I met for a month with a special doctor and did all kinds of tests, reading, writing, building with blocks, picture-finding: I felt like a chimp. All this was done to pinpoint what it was that has been hindering my entire life when it comes to mathematics and memory. Well, turns out, it is my “working memory,” and this issue is exactly what prevents me from being able to solve more than EXTREMELY basic mathematics, remembering phone numbers (or a variety of things), use any kind of formulas, and even remember what I am reading without re-reading and processing. I cannot explain how awesome and awful it is to know this. I am relieved that I finally have proper documentation for this most annoying detriment that has literally plagued me as far back in academics and jobs my entire existence. It’s also frustrating to really sit back and wonder about all the things I could have maybe accomplished without it. (I had wanted to be a pathologist once, lol.) At least now I know my learning style and have tips and reminders on how to process information better (most of which I was already doing- I practically live between my wall calendar, phone calendar and book planner. If I don’t write it down- I’m not remembering it.)

I expect to write back by end of july-early august? There’s lots of summer tasks to take care of. I lost 15lbs and have been doing very well with eating less calories, going on walks, light weight lifting and drinking lots of water (that one is the hardest). Here’s to toning up my butt! Haha

 Sincerely,

An illustrator