#so if some mysterious being was to be summoned and have control over tape recorders

[ceaselessims]

have we considered that [ERROR] could be Annabelle "i don't know what will happen to me when the fears are pulled through" Cane????

[artnerd1123]

DTRH!AU Masterpost

Moving into a new post since I’ve got stuff actually organized!!! It’ll likely get an update from time to time. Apologies to those whom the read more breaks for ‘^^

Everything to do with this au will be tagged #dtrh!au or #down the rabbit hole au Individual characters are tagged with #dtrh![name] 

Here’s an AU PMV for starters! 

Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?

Putting this up here so it doesn’t get super buried- Here’s the fic(s) set in this AU! All Moving Pictures End 

The AU crash course: The premise behind the au is that everything takes place in a pocket dimension controlled by a black magic script. Joey Drew is the one who’s writing/editing this script, and his rewrites affect the world and the characters within it. His constant reshaping eventually twists the world from a sitcom genre to a horror film- hence the horror esque setting, creatures, and plot. The characters didn’t escape the rewrites’ effects either. They��re warped into corrupted versions of themselves. However, these characters end up becoming sentient after awhile. The first one of these to become entirely sentient is Henry. He’s currently the only one who’s all the way out of alignment. A toon gone rogue, if you will. He still goes along with Joey’s “plot,” but it’s more so he can try to reach the other characters than to keep Joey happy or unaware of his actions. His goal is to basically “wake up” the other characters, so they can all stop living in a hellish nightmare studio and actually try and make something nice out of their home. He’s extremely dedicated to his goal. 

Character time!!! toon trio refs / corrupted refs  butcher gang refs / corrupted refs  toon henry ref  toon sammy ref / corrupted sammy ref  toon susie ref / corrupted susie ref  toon allison and tom refs / corrupted allison and tom refs  joey ref / toon joey ref  toon norman ref / corrupted ref  toon bertrum ref / corrupted ref  toon and corrupted grant refs  toon jack ref / corrupted jack ref  toon wally ref / corrupted wally ref  toon and corrupted lacie refs  toon and corrupted shawn refs 

Character relationships/orientations 

Concept art, anyone? toon trio concept work (w/ bonus corrupted bendy n alice) corrupted boris/alice concept work (ft bonus hen) butcher gang concept work (w/ corrupted forms) henry concept work sammy concept work (and more henry) susie concept work joey concept work corrupted norman concept work toon norman concept work  throwing around lost ones ideas 

Misc stuff Henry, but Goop™  Susie and Studio Tea™  Hey Henry, how do u feel about Joey?  Yo hold up, hen and polk are a thing???  Henry’s glasses saga  Regular studio shenanigans 

FAQ: 

How many of the employees are gonna show up? Hopefully all the named ones in the game! Once they’ve got a design, they’re guaranteed to show up somewhere.

Are they really carbon copies of the employees? Is there nothing different about them and their irl counterparts? They started as carbon copies! Latching onto their old traits and their old selves does help them come to their senses. However, different character development happens in script than IRL, so they end up different. Henry, for example, takes up the last name “Ross” when he wakes up (instead of his IRL counterpart’s “Stien”) to differentiate himself :0

So is everyone corrupted on purpose? Yes and no. Yes, because Joey chose to rewrite the script so much that it mangled characters, but no, because he didn’t intend to mangle them in the first place. It just kinda happened.

What makes them corrupted? Corruption is what happens when you can’t hold onto the core of what your character is, and get dragged into what the new script is telling you. It’s when you lose sight of who you are among all the chaos. People who are drawn farther away from their actual selves end up more monstrous. Susie (aka “alice” angel) is a great example of this. Bendy is too! Far be it from his real nature to be a murderous monster.

So can the toons be uncorrupted? Yup! Henry’s our model citizen this time. He looks more like a toon than a normal person, sure, but there’s nothing monstrous about him. That’s because he’s latched onto what makes him Henry. He’s not letting the instability of the world around him shake him up. Otherwise he’d be a goopy mess of ink.

Why’d Joey write everyone so differently that they corrupted? He’s actually very out of touch with people once he starts rewriting the script. Since his memories are getting foggy, he fixates on details that he can remember, and exaggerates them as needed. In fact, he’s hidden tape recorders around the script studio as built in reminders of these character traits.

How’d Henry wake up? And how does he plan on waking everyone else up? Ok… this is a longer answer. It all comes together, i promise. Jus hang with me. Whenever henry dies, he gets sent back to a sort of “first draft” stage. In order to get back to the world he’s supposed to exist in, he has to get through all the layers of ink Joey put down to get to his current script. As one can imagine… there’s a lot. So much so that Henry has to essentially swim to the surface. As he passes through all this ink, he can hear whispers of previous scripts. The deeper he is, the closer these whispers are to what the world used to be like. Seeing as Henry is the protagonist, he ended up dying… a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Joey had a lot of snags in the script to work out. All these times sent into the draft-y ink soup made made Henry slowly realize what was going on. He wasn’t mindless anymore. He knew what was up. After realizing that the world wasn’t right, it didn’t take him long to push for the rest of his consciousness. He plans on using what whispers and memories he can gather to bring everyone else back. He’s not dying on purpose, mind you, but he gathers as much information as he can to help everyone else realize that they’re not who they’re supposed to be.

Wait, memories? Does Henry remember the past scripts now? Not quite? He’s got a good enough memory stockpile to keep himself centered, but he doesn’t always know what’s up ahead as he heads through another studio loop. If Joey happens to rewrite or change around the script, those patches of Henry’s memory blip out of existence. Or at least get hazy. Hen can often tell if Joey’s changed something by how many holes he has in his memories.

Can anyone in the pocket dimension get out? Henry’s the only one who can get out! Joey literally wrote him a back door to the script. It used to be so he could talk to Henry whenever the “story” was over, but nowadays it’s just to judge how fast plot goes via how quickly Hen gets back. All Henry can manage to do is walk around and stare silently. And he can’t even stay out very long. Ink’s unstable in the real world. Gotta go back in n start the horror show over if u wanna live :/

Can Joey go in? Nope! Since he’s not made of ink, he can’t go in. He can watch tho!!! He does so via writing POV shifts into the script, and watches through whatever character it shifted to. Who needs cameras when u got the eyes of black magic toons n inky monsters ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Does Joey know Henry is sentient now? Nnnnot quite? He thinks the magic is being screwy with him. He can’t switch POV to Henry anymore, since the toon’s taken control of himself, and that’s real confusing since the writer doesn’t know what’s up. Plus, like mentioned above, Hen can’t exactly give Joey a sign once he gets out of the studio. Bummer :/

Is Joey gonna majorly rewrite the script any time soon? Nope. He’s to attached to his current plot to change the genre or anythin, so it’s gonna stay as is. With some changes here and there. One musn’t underestimate how many times u can change the order of scenes, or improve dialogue... 

AU Background:

((this is long as shiz, so get some popcorn slfkjs))

Y’all probably wanna know how this whole horror show started. I’ve got two words for ya: Joey Drew. Unsurprising! But he’s our starting point nonetheless. Joey Drew is the retired owner of Joey Drew Studios, a cartoon studio that ran itself into the ground after a decade or two of fantastical cartoons. Money problems aren’t kind to the entertainment industries. However, the studio was still his pride and joy! As are the friends who stuck by him or met him during the time it was open. He kept up with all of them through the years. They were like a little family. Unfortunately, time has a way of changing things. With his friends drifting away, living their own lives, getting up in years, or a combination of the three, Joey wasn’t doing too well. He was lonely. Feeling washed up. Missing the glory days, where he helped work on cartoon scripts instead of submitting horror and mystery shorts to local magazines. Not all that surprising that he turned to something else to cope. This thing being none other than occult magic. Because… of course it is. It’s a habit he’s had for years. Nothing like some demonic rituals to spice up the life of the creative mind behind kids’ cartoons! Especially fun when you’re a man with poor impulse control and a wild imagination. In any case, Joey summons the three main characters of his beloved cartoon series. Bendy, Alice, and Boris! (I refer to these three as the “toon trio.”) He was just as happy that he’d managed to bring them to life as he was to have them around the house. It was like having slightly unruly grandkids with toony superpowers. In other words, they were absolutely delightful!!! He took care of them and admired their antics. It was a great time. … until. Well. It wasn’t. Turns out things that don’t belong in this world get rejected eventually. After a few months, things started go go wayward. The toon trio had difficulties maintaining their forms, moving, engaging in tropes, and a ton of other things. They were miserable. Joey was understandably heartbroken to see this happen to his poor toons. So, like any good person, he tried to do the right thing: put them back on the paper they came from. It didn’t end up working exactly how he’d expected. Everything comes with a price when you mess with demonic ink. The magic not only created a stack of paper instead of a series of drawings, but latched onto an old fountain pen and Joey’s closet. If the closet thing seems odd, it is. But it’s a convenient place to hide ritual pentagrams! So, closet it is. Upon frantic examination of the papers, Joey discovered it was a script. A black magic infused script. Three names up top told him the toon trio were the only characters. A bit of experimentation led him to discover that the magic-infused pen was the only thing that could interact with the script properly. Further experimentation showed him that the script had made his closet into a pocket dimension. The contents? Whatever was in his new script. This is where the real fun begins. The new magic script practically floored Joey with awe. He had a world he could shape however he wished! He could run all those scripts he’d never gotten to put in production! He could watch his toons frolick! He could even use it to play with ideas he’d never gotten to explore. The possibilities were endless! 

((Of course, you might be wondering if Joey… y’know. Knew the toons were still alive. Because they were, they were just living in a pocket dimension now. In short? No. He didn’t. He carefully tested a few things with the script, just to make sure. All the toons did was what he wrote down. They moved like they were alive, but didn’t act that way. Plus, the dimension made them blank slates. They didn’t have any characterization in there to make them truly alive. So! For all intents and purposes? He saw them as you would any other character you write. A visual extension of his imagination. Ok mini rant over, back to the story--))

Playing with the toons was amazing. Joey hadn’t had fun like that in years! It was his little secret world, populated by his cherished toons. He could make believe whatever he wished. Eventually, though, loneliness started to catch back up to the old man. His friends… his family… life… it all went on. He just felt left behind. And what does Joey do when he doesn’t feel good? Not cope healthily, that’s for sure. Onwards to more occult magic! Only this time, he tries something… different. The toons were lonely. They deserved company. They deserved someone to take care of them. A familiar face. Maybe someone who helped Joey create them in the first place. Someone who’d just sent Mr. Drew an old letter and a card, since he hadn’t seen him in awhile… … someone like Henry. Using the magic pen, Joey traced over Henry’s note. Far from ruining the precious letter, it transferred “Henry” into the script. It’s not the real one! Basically a carbon copy, fresh from the time period that Hen first wrote the note in. Seeing as Henry’s letter came from around the time the cartoon studio was going strong, it’s an old version of him. But it was still Joey’s old friend. Just… toony. Toon Henry reacted just as his living friend would. If he wrote dialogue? He spoke it like Henry would. If he wrote some action? The toon put a classic Henry twist on it. Delighted, Joey returned to his script with renewed vigor. Toon Henry got to spend plenty of quality with the toon trio as the days went on. Thus began a trend of toonification. Missing one of his old friends? All Joey had to do was grab something with their old handwriting on it, and trace them into the script! There’s a carbon copy that acts just like the real deal! A fine compromise, right? … Right? Not exactly. It was fine at first. Joey made what could probably qualify as a sitcom-style story for the toony world to run on. His friends, at this point, all populated the studio. The premise was that the toons (now including the butcher gang!) had been summoned while he was still running the studio, and got up to hijinks with the rest of the employees. A hefty dose of actual studio drama- turned comedic, of course- kept the whole thing almost real. Joey even featured himself once or twice, but only in allusions, or a disembodied voice. He wasn’t about to let a carbon copy of himself have all the fun. It made him feel less lonely. More included. A fantasy world of never ending fun and heartwarming moments. How unfortunate it is that life doesn’t follow this pattern. Morality is a hard thing to come to terms with. So is sickness. Especially that of a friend. … it was just one rewrite at first. One alteration on a bad day. After all, using writing to cope is perfectly acceptable. One bad episode in the midst of sunshine doesn’t discount it all. One uncanny occurrence, though, doesn’t usually stay singular. It didn’t take long for the solitary rewrite to become two rewrites. Then three. Four. Six. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. More and more and more. Until the happy honey colored studio slipped into sinister sepia. This wasn’t the old script anymore. Not by a long shot.

The setting? A studio of shattered dreams.   Your protagonist? Henry. His goal? Survive long enough to escape.

~It’s quite th͝e̵͞͏ ͠M̕a͘sţe̛̕r͘p̕i̵͝e̡ḉe̡̨͜~̡̛

[dtpankhurst]

Under the Rocks and Stones

November 2nd, 1978

Magic was a lot like physics. Plenty of people could tell you Newton’s three laws, but very few people could tell you why they worked that way or the mechanics behind them. Just like physics, most people could tell you elves lived longer and dwarves had much denser muscles, but they couldn’t tell you how shamans summoned the winds or how mages concocted potions. In many ways it was better this way, the thought of the average person being able to summon great walls of fire was remarkably unpleasant. Then again, magic being the all mysterious force that it was meant that people tried to feel around in the dark and skip the queue rather than studying it properly.. and they ended up like this.

The body of the man reeked to high heavens, apparently lying unnoticed until she found it. Her client wouldn’t be especially happy about the outcome, but she was paid to find him and not save his life. Not that she wouldn't have preferred to find the man alive, but you couldn’t always get a happy ending... after all, summoning was the easy part.. but spirits didn’t like to be controlled, that was the hard part. With the fetish consumed and the summoning so amatuer, it was hard to tell what exactly he’d tried to summon. However, the likelihood of it being anything she’d need to worry about seemed rather minor. The neighbors almost certainly would have noticed an abomination rampaging down the street, and the odds of an amatuer successfully spawning anything more than a garden variety elemental was slim at best. All the same it was better to be safe than sorry, and so she thought it best to look around a bit to see if she could surmise anything from her surroundings.

Fortunately for her the home in question was a fairly lackluster shotgun shack, a trio of rooms all lined up in a row. Bedroom with a bathroom tucked in the corner, kitchen and then the living room she was standing in. Personally she would have summoned it in the kitchen, but then again she probably wouldn’t have been torn apart by her summon. She idly scratched at the messy bun perched on the top of her head as she looked around the room, scanning the cluttered interior until her eyes caught a cassette with a scrawled message on it. She wandered over, stepping over a candle that had melted into the cheap carpet and somehow managed to not set the entire place alight in the process. She picked up the tape, furrowing her brow as she read the message scrawled in terrible handwriting with a marker on some masking tape. ‘READ ANNIE!’ it said, which led to a shake of the head. She could only assume he wanted her to play the tape and not just read his hastily scrawled message, and she could safely assume his Annie and her client Annie were the same person. Despite not being any form of Annie, she decided it would probably be best to play it and see what was on it, just in case she needed to deliver it with a disclaimer attached. 

She sat down on the couch, slipping a fag between her lips as she slipped the tape into the boombox she’d retrieved from besides the television, clicking play once it was set up on the coffee table. She lit the cigarette as she sat back on the couch, letting out a sigh as the sounds of the man fumbling with the recording equipment dominated the early few seconds of the recording. She took a deep inhale in, smoke billowing out of her nose as she lay back on the couch and listened. “H-hey Annie uh..if you’re listening to this, well.. you know what happened” the recording said, causing her to glance over at the corpse before relaxing again. “I just wanted to leave this to you because, well.. you deserve peace of mind you know? Maybe this won’t give it to you or anything, but I feel like it’s the best I could do” the tape declared, the woman letting out a sigh as she glanced down at her watch. There was.. what, forty five minutes a side? She prayed to every God she knew that he hadn’t used the whole tape. “Anyways, I’ll cut right to the chase. I took out an insurance policy after I sold my last house in Kansas. Twenty thousand dollars. Even protects against magical malpractice.. but not self-inflicted” the tape said, which caused her to sit up like an electric shock had raced through her body “So.. if you can track down that spirit that put me down, you could claim that twenty thousand for yourself. You know, that should be good. At least that way I’ll be at least some use to you. The number is on the other side of the tape.. just call it once you’re done. Oh and.. Annie? I love you. Hopefully see you soon” the tape finished, and the crackle told her that was it. Phew.. twenty thousand dollars? Now that was a lot of money. There was no shortage of temptation to simply take the tape and track down the spirit herself, leaving all the money for her notably light pockets.. but she’d made a deal, and she was going to follow it even if it meant missing out on.. a lot of money. So, now it was time to deliver the bad news and the good news to Annie, before she changed her mind..

~

Annie’s, or rather David’s house was much nicer than the shotgun shack, not least of all because it wasn’t named for the ease at which it was blasted through with a firearm. It wasn’t luxurious or anything, but it was nice. Nice house, white picket fence and a couple of kids that had flown the coop. It was single storey with a nice garden, she almost felt like she’d melt just by stepping on the property. All the same she took the liquefaction risk, wandering up to the porch and drumming her hand on the door. A few moments later a stringy length of a man opened the door, the last bird that was yet to fly the nest “Hey Jim, mom home?” she inquired, flashing a smile that probably seemed genuine to the man, or boy depending on how you cut it. He was probably older than her, though the deep bags and sullen expression on his face made it difficult to gauge. One affirmative grunt and a few muffled words later and Annie was at the door, appropriate concern written across her face “Hey Annie” she said, the hands buried in the pockets of her coat and the expression on her face telling the middle aged woman all she needed to know about her brother. “Did you wanna talk out here or inside?” she asked, and the reluctant shuffle outside seemed to indicate the latter. The pair of them gravitated towards the set of chairs on the porch and on either side of a small table, the ashtray in the middle loaded with cigarette butts. She cleared her throat as she looked over at the older woman, hanging on every syllable “I uh.. found where your brother is living nowadays. Little shotgun shack about twenty minutes up the road. He’s uh.. dead. By the looks of it, he’d been there for a while. I’m sorry” she explained, reaching over to the hand and giving it a gentle squeeze in the practiced procedure for comforting people she’d developed over the years. Stoicism seemed to be the woman’s method for coping with the news, her trembling lip and dreary expression marking her sadness, but not surprise. From what she’d heard, it was all but a miracle if he showed up alive. The woman was silent, just nodding as she spoke, seemingly because opening her mouth to speak would bring with it a fountain of tears. She could respect the approach even if she didn’t agree with it “But I also found this. It’s a message from him, looks like just before his death. Addressed to you” she explained, reaching into her coat and producing the cassette, placing it on the table. “Talk about a life insurance policy he apparently took out after he sold his last house a-” “Mother’s house” the woman snapped through gritted teeth. Touchy subject “Yeah.. sorry, after he sold your mum’s house” she corrected, clearing her throat “I already listened to it. You know, in case it was something horrific. He says it’s worth twenty grand and covers his.. cause of departure. All you need to do is catch the spirit” she added, leaning back in her chair “You don’t need to say anything, but I wanted to look into it. If you want me to leave it just say so, but the way I figure it.. twenty grand is twenty grand” she offered, watching the older woman’s reaction carefully. She could all but hear the gears grinding in her head as she switched from anger to relief back to anger again, occasionally flirting with grief but deciding against it for the time being, likely because of her presence. She lingered for a few moments, watching before she stood up and brushed herself off “Okay then.. about time I get going then. If I find it, I’ll send it your way. After I take my cut of course” she said, almost shamelessly as she cleared her throat “Sorry for your loss” she finished, turning her back and departing before a “Joelle?” from the older woman caused her to stop in her tracks “Yeah?” she replied, glancing over her shoulder to look at the woman “You can keep it” Annie offered, Joelle nodding in silent acceptance before she turned back around, a smirk on her face as she walked towards the car, slipping a cigarette between her lips. Looks like she was lining up for one hell of a payday.

~

A brief trip back to the shotgun shack had netted Joelle a small tobacco tin of the man’s hair and a separate jar of salt from the circle, while a longer trip from there to Twinkle Town had gotten her to the doorstep of the person most likely to find the spirit for her considering the meager budget. If she took the time to do the research she could probably find the spirit herself, but every minute that passed the spirit got further away and the chance of someone else capturing or banishing it grew, so she opted for the express route. Twinkle Town was so nicknamed for its large elven population, a name initially meant as a derogative now appropriated as an affectionate alternative to the significantly less interesting ‘Sulleyville’ which the maps all had it listed as. In fact she drove past one such ‘Sulleyville’ sporting sign on her way in, though the larger sign hanging beneath it read the more common ‘Twinkle Town’ in bright and flamboyant lettering, no doubt done by some of the locals. Nowadays there were almost as many dwarves, orcs, deathless,beastmen and halflings living there as elves, but names that stuck like that seldom shifted with the demographics. Whether you wanted elemental fetishes, arcane trinkets or just food so good you could have sworn it was magic, Twinkle Town was the place to go. It was a melting pot of Metahuman cultures, designs and races, all changed but not erased by their arrival in this world. It was easily one of the most exciting and interesting places around, though sometimes it was more “”interesting”” than interesting. Like any other place, as long as you kept to the beaten path you were usually fine, especially during the day. 

A pair of heavily tattooed dwarves sneered at her as she stepped out of her car in front of ‘Elementa Cantacia’, though whether they disapproved of her or her destination was hard to tell. Who knows, maybe the winds just changed and their faces were stuck like that. Joelle smirked to herself at the thought as she walked up the steps, taking care to avoid the numerous cracks in the concrete for the sake of her mother’s spinal health. She was fairly certain that particular superstition was just that, but as she passed by a neon rainbow in the form of a Deathless she was reminded that it was probably better to be safe rather than sorry. Sure she knew a bit of magic, but she was anything but an expert. Not that she told her clients that of course, half of them hired her because she was a human mage. Sure metahumans had been around for decades now, but that didn’t mean they were suddenly beloved and accepted by all. She knew what that was like better than most. Once she was past the door and the curtain of beads she made a beeline for the receptionist, a woman who bore a familiar toothy smile. Yanaba couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a beastmen, a large bear-like head and matching razor sharp teeth spelling the fact out in big, bold letters if the hairy arms and massive stature didn’t already do the trick. The wedding ring around her finger would probably have been too big for Joelle’s thumb, assuming one could find it beneath the fur and they wanted to risk the claws. “Hey hey..” the human greeted her, leaning forwards on the desk “Is uh.. Eskel in today?” Joelle inquired, though she already knew the answer. “He always is hun” the fur clad female responded, nodding towards the door to the back room “He busy at the moment?” “No, just go right in” “Sounds good” they finished, Joelle drumming her fingers on the desk as she stood up and walked towards the door, pausing as she put her hand on the handle “Fur looks great today Yan” she offered, smiling to herself as she opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her. If the bear woman could have blushed she probably would have, and that worked just fine for Joelle. 

~

The back room was fairly typical for a place like Eskel’s, the faint smell of lilac spread about the room in what was little more than a token gesture to mask the odour of the more exotic items that the elf carried. The elf in question was poking at what looked like the eye of a corpse hound, prodding the dissected eyeball with a pair of tweezers. His lithe frame was bent over the desk, a matching ring to Yanada’s marking him as her mate and a large scar across his face marking their first encounter with one another.. certainly not what most imagined when they thought of love at first fight. “Miss Darcy” the man greeted her without breaking eye contact with the.. eye “Hey Eskel.. Winning your staring contest?” she asked, the smile on her face quickly fading as the man seemed less than amused. Dreary bastard that he was “I would prefer you ask me what you want to ask and leave me be” he replied, confirming her suspicions. “Right all work, no play. Got it” she acknowledged, digging into her pockets and retrieving the containers loaded with hair and salt alike. “I’ve got these two samples for you to track a spirit with. Reckon you can do it?” the woman inquired, smirking to herself as the offer of a challenge finally made the man peel his sharp emerald eyes away from the dull yellow one he was pulling apart. “How old, what kind, who summoned it and via what method?” the man asked as he wheeled his chair over to the samples on the desk “Maybe a week, probably your garden variety elemental, guy called Craig and no clue. It’s for a case I’m working.. If I had all the answers I wouldn’t need you Chief. The guy didn’t have a clue what he was doing though.. spirit ripped him to pieces and ran off” she explained, watching as the man looked over the samples “Good, should be easy to track then” he replied with the inflication and all the enthusiasm of a mortician. “So.. how long do you reckon it’ll be?” she asked, her eyes being drawn towards a jar with a pair of what appeared to be preserved testicles, though she hadn’t the foggiest clue what they were from. Certainly didn’t look like any she’d seen before. “It’ll be done by the time we shut. Come back around five” he declared, gathering the evidence and wheeling back to his work.. It would appear the eyeball held his attention for the time being “Right… catch you later then Esk” she replied, taking the half assed grunt she got in return as her signal to depart. Probably for the best anyway, the work persona the man put on was especially exhausting “See you later Yan.. make sure the good doctor has got my stuff ready by five” she declared as she left, giving the woman a wave before she stepped out of the store and slipped a cigarette between her lips. 

~

The rest of the day’s investigations, while interesting, didn't quite manage to hold the same appeal that a fat stack of twenty thousand dollars did. As such, it was no surprise to her that no matter what else she did, her mind was always working at the spirit case. Something about it was.. off, and it wasn’t just the ‘too good to be true’ price tag that was attached to it. 

Five o’clock couldn’t come fast enough, and for once in her life Joelle pulled up on time, right on the dot. She furrowed her brow at the pair of dwarves that stood there, identically to before. She wandered up to them, gently flicking the hairier one on the left in the forehead.. to no reaction. In fact now that she really looked at them, their eyes weren’t moving either. To blink or otherwise. 

“Leave the twins alone won’t ye love?” a familiar voice called, the furred head of Yanaba sticking out of the door like a meerkat from its hole “Had a feeling you’d be here right on time” she added, a toothy grin accompanying an expression that clearly showed she was quite proud of herself. “Good guess then.. What’s with the garden gnomes?” the comparatively hairless woman inquired in turn, wandering up the steps and into the shop besides the beastly woman “Esky says it’s a curse.. But he couldn’t figure out how to break it. They’re still alive, just frozen in place” “You mean they’re just standin’ there?” “Yeah.. aware of everything I assume. Someone dumped them here about a month ago, no one knows what to do with them” “Fuuuuck.. that’s rough aye” “Indeed” the furred woman finished, sitting back down at her desk and pawing through some trashy magazine. Whatever dumb and dumber did, they must have really pissed off the wrong person. A spell of that calibre was no small feat, and certainly not the sort of magic you’d throw out left and right. Even as she wandered back to Eskel’s lair, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to what they could have done to deserve a fate like that. 

As she wandered into the lair she’d notice that the eye had been joined by a brain, and the eye had been peeled away in layers like a rather gruesome onion.. She didn’t want to ask “Hey Esk.. any luck?” she wondered out loud, leaning on the doorframe and brushing a string of obnoxious door beads out of the way as she looked over at the man tracing the sparse ridges of the brain with a scalpel. This time she’d actually managed to get a reaction out of him, and a seemingly interested one at that “I did, but I find myself fascinated by how you always seem to find the metaphorical needle in the metaphorical haystack.. Metaphorically of course” he mused, sliding his chair over to a familiar, disc-shaped tin “What you brought me was.. charged” “I’d assumed as much” “No, but not your regular arcane time.. This one was intense, like the difference between a fork in the powerpoint and a stop sign and lightning” he explained, though his analogies could use some work “It was.. electric, like a taser. Where in Gaia’s name did you even find this?” he continued, placing the ball in her court for once “Uh.. shotgun shack, maybe fifteen miles away” she explained, scratching the back of her head “How deep is the shit this time?” “Knee deep, though with a potentially deep drop off. Be careful Darcy.. exceptionally careful. No amount of money is worth what awaits you if you take a wrong step and fall off that drop” he warned her, his piercing emerald eyes staring holes right through her soul “Yeah.. I gotcha. Wits about me, arcane barriers up, panic button at the ready” she grumbled with a sigh, placing a finger on the tin and sliding it across the table towards her “Take this as well” he offered, placing a necklace with a beautifully carved silver crucifix on it “You fuckin’ kidding me? I’m after spirits not vampires” she remarked, indignant “Please, just wear it. It’s enchanted. Least conspicuous piece of jewellery I had.. just listen to it” he insisted, Joelle opening her mouth to speak only to think better of it as he glared at her “Alright.. eyes and ears open” she replied, letting out a soft sigh as she slipped the necklace around her neck and the tin into her pocket “Standard tracker?” “Mostly, it’ll guide itself” he replied, leaning back in his chair “Be careful” “Yeah, yeah I know.. I’ll be careful dad” she grumbled, rolling her shoulders as she wandered over to the door, pausing in the doorway before she spun around on the spot “Thanks man, I mean it. Thanks” she offered, taking the nod as her symbol to be on her way. A soft nod in the furred woman’s direction was all that was left to do before she stepped outside, shooting one last glance over at the frozen twins before wandering over to her car, doing her best to ignore the shiver that raced up her spine.

~

To his credit, the tracker she’d been given was more helpful than most of them. After all this one gave a direction rather than the usual vibration that intensified as you got closer.. but still, she’d certainly prefer if the damned thing could just draw her up some directions in the street directory. Crowded streets, backed up traffic and vague directions led to many an unpleasant word to be hurled out the window, car horns to be slammed and cigarettes to be smoked in frustration and yet, against all odds she eventually made it. 

It was getting to the cusp of dusk as she arrived outside the apartments, the tired brickwork dreary colour palette looking like it was from before the Collision.. though in this part of town, it could have been built last week and looked about the same. After a quick lap around the building to make sure it was the right place and to briefly scope the place out, she flicked her cigarette into the growing pile beside the stairs and wandered in. The foyer reeked of cleaning chemicals and mould, and she wasn’t quite sure which one was worse. This is where the tracker would become slightly more unhelpful since it only tracked on a two dimensional plane.. Or at least that’s what the case was made for. As she wandered into the elevator and counted no less than twenty stories.. There was a fat chance she was going to waste that much time. As the doors closed she slipped her chewed fingernail under the lip of the case, wedging it open until the case cracked open, and the small crystal flew out. It flew straight up to the ceiling of the elevator, slamming into it with a clink as it desperately attempted to reach its target. She stepped back and pressed the button for the top floor, carefully watching the tracker as the elevator began its ascent. For a few stories it was more of the same, until the indicator above the doors read fourteen, and the tracker switched from slamming itself into the ceiling to slamming itself against the doors. Seemed like fourteen was the magic number, and as the elevator continued on and the tracker shifted its acoustic assault to the floor, that only seemed to confirm her theory. Joelle watched as the tracker continued to slam against the floor once the doors to the top floor opened, nought but a soft sigh escaping her lips as she leaned over to punch number fourteen, and then the close doors button. 

As the doors groaned open and the tracker flew out, it suddenly dawned on her that releasing it probably wouldn’t have been necessary, as the slashed corpse that lay slumped over in the hallway probably would have been a pretty good indication that she’d arrived at her destination. She approached the body carefully, subconsciously reaching to touch the crucifix around her neck as she squatted down to inspect it. Deep, razor sharp lacerations decorated the man’s body, like he’d been attacked by a lunatic with a sword. Certainly didn’t seem like any elemental she’d ever seen, it looked like he’d been mauled by a bear. She swallowed the frog in her throat as she stood up again, looking down the hallway to the tracker that was tapping itself against a door, marked number one forty six. She muttered a spell under her breath as she approached, causing a shimmer of bright yellow light to wash over her body like a layer of honey temporarily, before vanishing as if it was never there. It pulsed gently with each step she took, the impact of her boots against the floor just barely managing to trigger the shield. Joelle hesitated as she arrived at the door, placing a hand on the door knob and an ear against the door even as the tracker thumped itself against the faded white paint. Her ear remained pressed against the seemingly silent room as her gaze drifted towards the tracker, following it for a few moments before snatching it out of the air like a bothersome fly. She tucked it back into the case, and placed the case in her pocket before she turned the handle. It was unlocked. 

A shiver raced up her spine from a supernatural chill in the air as she stepped inside, a warm exhale creating a small cloud of steam in the room.. that was no elemental, that was a ghost. Why he’d tried summoning a ghost was a mystery.. but she had a few theories. Mostly just the usual reasons why someone would want to speak with the dead. A brief scan of the dim room with those dark brown eyes didn’t reveal the location of the spirit, though that was hardly a relief. She closed the door behind her as gently as she could, and that was when it happened. 

Barely a split second after she’d shut the door the spirit was upon her, dropping from the ceiling like a ten tonne bomb she only narrowly managed to avoid. The same could not be said for the following assault though, Joelle not even managing to say so much as a syllable before those razor sharp claws slashed at her. The protection spell shattered as soon as she hit, breaking like glass and sending her flying backwards and onto her back. She wouldn’t have had time to cast another if the spirit was trying to kill her.. and yet she did, rolling over and jumping up to her feet only to see the stooped figure of an otherworldly woman staring back at her. “You.. magic” it groaned, as if every letter was broken glass sliding up its throat “Yeah.. close enough” Joelle managed to respond, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst out of her chest and her breath ragged. Every instinct and milligram of adrenaline racing through her body was telling her to strike while she had the chance, but her brain knew she didn’t stand a chance.. and her heart told her things were not as they seemed. 

Her eyes lingered on the woman’s hunched figure for a while, her mangled limbs and battered body not offering an especially pleasant sight, but something about her told Joelle beneath the blood and broken bones, she might have been beautiful once. Out of the corner of her eye she spied a photograph that made her do a double take, one of Annie’s brother and a woman, though it must have been taken many years ago.. either that or he’d really let himself go. Her eyes darted back to the ghostly woman, and then back to the photo before darting back again, her brow furrowed as she looked at him “You uh.. you know Annie’s brother?” she asked, an enthusiastic nod confirming her question “Yes! Yes! I know Jamie!” the spirit eagerly announced, bobbing their head so hard it seemed like it would fall off at any moment. Joelle thought for a moment, watching as the woman stared holes through her “You.. understand” she declared “Yeah, I think I do” Joelle lied, though she could feel herself approaching the eureka moment, it lay just out of reach. 

The spirit seemed enthused about the finish line apparently being reached, limping over to the photo in question on the wall, dragging a mangled leg along behind her like an anchor “Jamie! Jamie!” the spirit announced, with all the enthusiasm of a child seeing their father once more, though she doubted Jamie was the child raising type. “How di- how do you know Jamie?” she inquired, stopping herself before she made the often fatal mistake of reminding a spirit of their demise.. it tended to be a sensitive topic for them. No one liked being dead, especially if they were still walking. “Love! Love Jamie, Jamie love me!” they announced, giddy with glee as they looked at the photo, picking it with great difficulty and dragging that mangled limb over to her “See? Love!” it croaked, Joelle taking the photo with an affirmatory nod. The engagement rings on the fingers were only visible now that the photo was all but shoved up her nose, and suddenly the pieces started to fall into place “Ah.. so you and Jamie were married?” she enquired, only to be met with seemingly explosive anger from the spirit “NO! No no NO! Never married, only engaged.. Only engaged, never married! He left! He left me!” it announced to her, causing Joelle to take a cautionary step back. Her mind raced for solutions, running through possibilities, only to be met with one option.. the truth. She flipped the photo frame over to look at the back, gently touching the crucifix as thanks for the names being written on the back. Jamie and Jamison.. What a match. “Jamison..” she started, causing the spirit’s head to spin as if on a swivel “Jamie.. Jamie didn’t leave you” she explained, only to be met with a howl of anger “He did! He did!” it protested, only to be met with a raised hand “No.. you left him. You died Jamison” Joelle continued, swallowing audibly as she looked at the predictably violent reaction “Okay, okay, look.. I know it’s hard to believe.. But just trust me for a little bit, okay?” she insisted, glancing over to the bathroom “Look.. just, wait here okay? I want to prove something to you” Joelle insisted, only hesitating for a moment before dashing off to the bathroom.

Joelle made a beeline for the bathroom mirror, not even hesitating before grabbing the mirror on the cabinet and ripping it off, double checking to make sure it wasn’t broken before going back to the spirit. “Alright.. okay. Look carefully okay?” she said, releasing a soft sigh as she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like shit quite frankly, she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week and felt like she hadn’t in a month.. But she could worry about that later “See? I show up fine, all normal. Now.. you try it” she offered, gingerly offering the spirit and taking a step back. She couldn’t see the mirror’s reflection, but judging by the reaction she already knew what was in it.. Nothing. “No.. no.. why can’t I see me? You’re.. you’re playing a trick on me!” the spirit protested, though even in the midst of it’s rage it seemed unconvinced “No.. Jamison, no trick.. think for a minute. What was the last thing you remember before the other day? Just.. think about it. One memory.. Then a long dark.. then you’re back” she offered, pushing the spirit towards the truth “I remember.. remember driving. To Nebraska!” they replied, a false veneer of optimism painted across their features “Okay.. you were driving.. and then what? It all went black?” she offered, pushing her in the right direction without forcing her “We were driving.. Jamie was driving and then.. he slammed on the horn.. then.. nothing. Then I woke up a few days ago.. or was it hours?” it pondered aloud “Days.. you’ve been here for two days” Joelle offered, standing up from her defensive posture “It.. sounds to me like you were in a car crash Jamison. You.. you’re dead, I’m sorry” she said, trying to be gentle without lying to it.. that also tended to end poorly. Then like a textbook, it happened “Well.. how am I here then?” it asked, causing her to run a hand over the curly hair contained within a bun “Well.. you’re a ghost. Spirit, whatever you want to call it. Someone tried to bring you back but uh.. failed” “Failed?! But I’m right here!” “Yes, but you’re not yourself Jamison, you've attacked people. Two people. They couldn’t control you, they didn’t know what they were doing” she explained, avoiding the question only for it to be thrown back in her face “Jamie did.. tried to bring you back” she replied, taking a sharp breath in through her nose. This was it “And Jamie is he.. did I?” “Yes” she said, softly. She watched as the spirit tried to summon up the tears but couldn’t manage it, just collapsing into a pathetic heap on the floor, sounding more like she was about to throw up than cry. Joelle hesitated for a moment, tossing ideas around in her mind before sitting down beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder “I’m sorry Jamison but.. but I do have a solution. You can go and be with Jamie” she offered, watching the spirit for a reaction.

It took a while, as if the words needed time to penetrate the fog surrounding her mind, but eventually the spirit looked over at her, eyes bloodshot and sunken “How?” it asked, with nothing but desperation in her voice. “You just have to.. let go. Just let go of the sliver of life you’re clinging to, and go back to where you belong” she explained, watching the lump slide down the spirit’s throat “And I’ll be with Jamie?” “You will” she reassured her, watching as she processed the information “Okay” it said, swallowing audibly “I’m scared, will you.. will you stay with me?” “Of course” Joelle replied, offering a gentle smile as she held out a hand for the spirit to hold. The hand that reached out was cold, like it had been plunged in ice, but the feeling was fleeting. The spirit reached out, embracing Joelle, a moment passing before she hugged it back. Somehow it felt like seconds and hours all at the same time, but at the end of the tunnel she saw the light, and felt the spirit's presence fade away.. And then she was alone.

Joelle looked around the dimly lit apartment with a cloud of melancholy hanging above her head, taking her time to stand up as she drank in her surroundings. A hand reached down into her pocket, and the lifeless tracker told her she really was gone. After a moment longer she wandered over to the door, looking over her shoulder one last time before she walked out of the apartment, and closed it behind her. 

~

It was well into dusk by the time Joelle walked back to her car, sitting down in the driver’s seat as she looked over at the tape beside her. She exhaled sharply out her nose, almost having forgotten about the reward after the grand escapade to earn it. She spied a payphone out of the corner of her eye, and once she retrieved some change from the glove box she wandered over to it. 

Once she called nine one one to report the body, she looked at the number on the back of the tape, smirking to herself as she thought about all the ways she could spend twenty thousand dollars. She called the number and waited for a reply, being met with a man who’s voice sounded like he’d gargled a cup of gravel “Hello? Who’s this?” the voice inquired, rather predictably “My name’s Joelle.. I was looking into Jamie’s uh.. Life insurance policy? Jamie Watts, on behalf of his sister Annabelle Watts” she explained, furrowing her brow at the sound of shuffling papers and muffled whispers “Oh! Right yeah.. of course of course. Just one minute” he replied, more shuffling of objects being followed by the click of a tape recorder “Hey, this is Jamie. If you’re listening to this, you’re here to claim my life insurance policy..which means you’ve banished that nasty spirit who sent me to a well deserved, but early grave. I want to start off by saying thank you, for bringing my Jamie back to me.. It means a lot that we’ll be able to spend an.. eternal honeymoon together.. And it means a lot more than she’s finally at peace after I fucked everythign up so royally trying to be with her again” he said, a sigh that almost sounded like a half laugh escaping his lips before he spoke again “Second of all, I want to say sorry. There is no reward, and no life insurance policy. I’m broke, I could barely afford to keep the light on after all! Anyways.. thanks again, and for what it’s worth? I owe you one. See you on the other side pal” he finished, one last, smug chuckle before another click indicated the end and the phone was hung up on the other end. 

Joelle stood there, like one of those Dwarves outside Eskel’s shop, frozen in place like a statue. The gears were grinding in her head, but after a few seconds that felt like hours all she could do was smile. An exhausted, but genuine smile that quickly faded into a similar smirk as she shook her head. She scratched the back of her neck as she plunged a hand into her pocket, grabbing the crumpled packet of cigarettes and fishing one of them out, slipping it between her lips as she looked up at the last rays of the day's sunshine. Then she brought the lighter up, and lit it. A deep inhale was followed by a cloud of smoke billowing out of her nostrils, an exclamation mark to everything that had led up to this point. She watched the smoke fade and dissipate into the darkening day.. 

.. and it was over.