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[dot-cant-write]

A Different Chord - Sammy Lawrence x Reader (Part Eight)

I apologize. I know. I’m sorry, this chapter is Not Good but the next one is a little better. It’s already mostly written I just didn’t know how to write to get there.

“Wally?” You asked, peeking your head into the Art Department. You’d been searching for the janitor all afternoon after your talk with Sammy. It was nearly closing time and you still hadn’t seen him.

Finally, you made your way to Story. Lo and behold, Wally Franks was cleaning up in the middle of the room. Two employees- both around your age -walked past you and down the hall. You heard them discussing something about ink and a machine in hushed voices. “Keep asking questions, Buddy,” the girl with cat-eye glasses told the other.

You moved forward into Storyboarding. “Wally, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. The weirdest thing happened-“

Wally immediately perked up. “Oh yeah? Spill the beans, (Y/N).”

You explained what happened in Sammy’s office. Wally let out a low whistle.

“Did ya consider that he likes you? What have I been sayin’ this whole time?”

“Wally! This isn’t something he does. He’s been giving me lessons for almost a year now, and I have never seen him act this way.”

Wally tapped his chin thoughtfully. He the shrugged. “Dunno, but we should find out.”

You rolled your eyes. “Duh, Wally, that’s what I was getting at.”

Your best friend grinned innocently. “Of course it was, heh. So… Go find him an ask what’s going on!”

“You just want me to walk up and ask? After what happened?”

“Yeah?”

“…Fine. But I’m waiting until Monday.”

Wally shrugged. “Fair enough I guess.”

You gave Wally a strained smile, but had a dreadful feeling that your talk with Sammy wasn’t going to go very well.

————————————————————————

Sammy’s POV:

Sammy Lawrence wasn’t feeling very good. It might’ve been the ink he drank, but, y’know, it happens.

But he was feeling so sick, he had to cancel the last recording session of the afternoon.

Now, he was locked in his sanctuary- every artist needs one, after all. But right now, he wasn’t using it to get work done in some peace and quiet. Instead, he was hoping that no one could hear the sounds of him retching through the walls.

His wastebasket hugged close to his chest, the composer puked again. Black ink.

Sammy wiped his mouth with his sleeve, feeling nauseous. But a longing feeling inside him grew. Maybe- maybe he just needed more. Maybe then he’d feel better.

He hastily reached for the ink well sitting on his desk, praying to anyone that would listen that this would make him feel better.

…

It didn’t. His body was rejecting the toxic substance, and yet something kept making him drink the ink. It wasn’t a good weekend for him.

On Monday morning, he looked awful and felt worse. He got to Joey Drew Studios early, hoping he could get some sleep. He did not.

[dot-cant-write]

Sammy Lawrence text post because I keep procrastinating on the fic oops

Sammy: What is that awful sound?

Y/N: *stops strumming banjo* I beg your pardon, Mr. Lawrence?

Sammy: Then beg.

[dot-cant-write]

Subject 418

Audrey wasn’t sure what she was looking at.

It didn’t really look like the lost ones. Granted, she couldn’t see the front of it since it was sitting with its back to her. But it very clearly wasn’t one. Unlike the lost ones, who are skeletal and misshapen, this was… well-formed. Smooth. Actually shaped almost like a human, and a fit one, if the muscles were anything to go by.

But it didn’t look like Allison, either. Or those twisted butcher gang members. It was unique. 

Maybe that’s why it was in here? It doesn’t look dangerous… all it’s doing is sitting and plucking on a banjo. But then again… that’s a similar line of thought to the one she had when she saw Bendy for the first time.

She only realized just how long she’d been staring when the banjo suddenly stopped. 

At first she thought perhaps it was just pausing to consider what to play next, as it seemed to do quite often. It almost seemed like it didn’t quite know how to play it, but the way it held the instrument, with such care and respect… that didn’t seem right. The ink takes memories. Muddles them up and pulls them away from you. Maybe it took music away from… whatever this is. 

“I know you’re back there,” it—he?—spoke. A man’s voice, low and nearly whispering, almost inaudible through the thick glass. “I can feel your eyes on me.” 

He sounded so… hostile? No, that wasn’t it. Hostility is an active thing, something that is pointed at someone else. This was more… bristling. Like a cornered animal.

Which she supposed, in a way, he was?

Not that she could do anything to him from out here even if she wanted to.

When she didn’t respond for a moment, he turned. Not all the way around, just his head, and she saw…

He almost looked like the ink demon. A wide, toothy smile of jagged teeth, and no other facial features to speak of.

Though as she looked closer, it became clear he wasn’t smiling. He was sneering. He just… doesn’t have lips. Just teeth.

“What are you looking at?” He hissed, turning to face her more fully, and revealing a single wide, glowing yellow eye. “Come to gawk at the “false prophet”? Come to see the fallen shepherd, the demon worshiper, or whatever other names you’ve come up with for me? Are you here to mock me like all the rest?” His voice grew louder as he grew more and more agitated, something rising in it that sounded like more voices speaking, more than just his. 

There was something distinctly strained to it. Defensive and pointed but so very distinctly hurt, and it sounded like he was trying and failing to strangle that feeling down.

“No!” Audrey waved her hands, trying to diffuse some of the tension. “I was just listening to you play! I don’t even know who you are.”

His eye narrowed.

He huffed a heavy sigh, the tension draining from him, and he turned back so only the side without the eye was facing her. 

“You must be new here,” he said, somewhat somberly. “Surprised you haven’t heard of me.”

Audrey shrugged. “Almost everyone I’ve met has tried to kill me. That’s not exactly a good environment for starting conversation.”

And that made him laugh.

Maybe? It sort of sounded like it could’ve been a laugh. 

“If you’re going to listen to me play, stop breathing so loudly.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do I need to speak up?”

“I was just breathing normally.” 

“Then stop.” 

She could not even begin to parse the request that was being made of her.

“I can’t just? Stop breathing? I kind of need to do that!”

He stared at her blankly for a long moment. “Count yourself lucky then,” he said bitterly.

Man.

What is this guy's deal?

A while passed of him continuing to play, and Audrey trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

He seemed to be getting… frustrated. Hesitating even more often. Arms becoming more tense.

Eventually, he stopped abruptly again, and for a moment she thought for sure he would throw his banjo onto the floor. But he didn’t. He sighed, and gently, gently set it down, with care and reverence and obvious longing.

And then he sat back down in the chair, head in his hands. He didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound. Just sat there.

“What’s your name?” Audrey asked, a little hesitantly.

His shoulders slumped a little, and he turned so his eye was facing her. He had a pupil now. He didn’t before.

“Sammy.”

“Sammy…” She looked at the banjo on the floor, thought about how he treated it with such care, and a few things clicked into place. “Sammy Lawrence?”

Sammy was on his feet and at the window in an instant, eye fixed intently on Audrey and his hands pressed against the glass.

“You know me?” 

“…not personally.”

Sammy groaned, and slid down the window, his hands and forehead leaving inky smears down the glass.

“I suppose it was too much to hope.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sammy just made a noise, something resigned and tired.

“…you have something many of us down here envy,” he said after a few long moments. He had his back against the wall underneath the window.

“What do you mean?” 

“A face. An identity. A self.” He sounded sad. “You know who you are.”

“That’s… not as true as you might think.” 

He gave a bitter chuckle. “No, of course it’s not… nothing’s ever as good as it seems.”

“…why are you in here?” 

“I don’t know,” Sammy said softly. So, so softly. “This Wilson… he wasn’t always in power here. We used to bow to a different power.”

“The ink demon.” This much, she knew. 

Sammy nodded, ever so slightly. “My… my lord. I thought… we thought that he would save us. Set us free… but now? I’m not… sure anymore.” 

She didn’t know what to say.

“I served him. I served him faithfully for so long, and… and nothing. I sacrificed so much. So much for him, and nothing. When we all cried out to him, to save us, to hear us. Nothing.” Sammy’s voice was beginning to shake.

She didn’t interrupt. She just listened.

“And when Wilson ordered all of the ‘demon followers’ to give up their faith or be destroyed. Nothing. And when Wilson’s keepers found the lost harbor, and my flock was rounded up and slaughtered like animals! NOTHING!” His voice split again, just for a moment, before falling away into the sounds one makes when trying not to sob. “They even took my music department. They even took…” he never finished that sentence. Whatever he was going to say was too painful.

“And the Ink Demon still did nothing. Even when we begged for his aid, called out to him with our dying screams, he ignored us,” Sammy spat. “I can see now… how misguided I was. How misguided we all were. But this… we never deserved this,” his voice quivered with his desperate effort not to sob.

“I just don’t understand… why I was different. Why I was spared.”

“Some shepherd I was…” 

“I’m so sorry Sammy…” Audrey said softly.

He just moaned in response. It sounded a bit like a searcher. 

“I don’t think you should blame yourself,” she said, placing a hand on the glass next to Sammy’s head. “I’ve seen what they can do… I don’t think there was anything you could’ve done.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Sammy gave a resigned shrug. “But it doesn’t change anything. In the end, they’re all lost to the puddles. And I’m in here, with nothing to do but think about it.”

“And play the banjo.”

“Oh please. You heard me,” he sighed. His voice was still a little shaky. “I barely remember how. Just another sacrifice…”

He looked at his hands, and upon leaning so she could see them, Audrey saw that they weren’t human. Three fingers and a thumb, like a cartoon.

“I used to be so talented,” he muttered. “So much before the ink’s call is lost to me, but that I remember. And even if I didn’t, the awards on the wall in my music department all have my name on them… but now it feels so foreign to me. My hands don’t remember where to go, and my mind lags behind. It doesn’t feel right to be playing alone…” 

“I wish I could help you,” she sighed. “But I’m an artist, not a musician.”

“I wasn’t asking you to,” he responded, a little sharply. It might seem rude, but given what she’s heard about him, read in newspapers and Joey’s memoirs, this is how he’s always been. Snappy, even when he didn’t mean it all the way. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“The same as what…?”

Sammy didn’t respond for another long moment.

“You know my work, don’t you? Surely you know I was never a solo act.”

She had to think for a moment before a name came to her.

“Jack Fain, right? Your lyricist.”

Sammy nodded, ever so slightly.

“He was more than that,” he said softly, so softly. “I know he was. I don’t remember what we were to each other. But I know he was important.”

He started to shake again. 

“He’s—“ He made a choked sound, curling himself up tighter. She could see him starting to drip. “—he’s gone…”

“Won’t he reform?” Audrey asked, and then realized a moment later that perhaps that wasn’t a very tactful thing to say to someone this obviously distraught. 

“You don’t get it,” Sammy moaned. His voice was shaking, almost a little wet sounding. “Of course you don’t get it, you’re too solid.”

“It’s not so simple, no… not so easy for those of us without a real form.” He was still shaking, but his voice had changed. Shifted back to a low whisper. She shouldn’t be able to hear him so clearly through the glass, but it sounded like he was speaking right into her ears. “The puddles are swimming, churning with thoughts and feelings and memories. If one wants to be reborn as themself, they must carefully pick their own mind out of the cacophony. Try to remember where they end, and the puddles begin. All while it tries to pull you deeper, deeper into darkness, the wills of the lost dragging you further, until you lose yourself… like crabs in a bucket.”

“You’re never quite the same when you drag yourself from the well… if you manage to.” His voice shifted back to normal, no longer sounding like it was in her head. “And my Jack… he was never a fighter. Preferred to hide himself away.”

Another silence fell over them, this one heavy. 

Audrey wasn’t sure what to say for what felt like a very long time.

“…he wouldn’t happen to wear a bowler hat, would he?”

Sammy shot up again, face and hands once again pressed up against the glass. His single eye looked a bit like it was melting, yellow trails dripping down his cheek. 

Oh. Those were tears.

“Have you seen him?”

“No. But I did find his hat,” Audrey said tentatively. “And it wasn’t in the music department. So he might be hiding somewhere new.”

Sammy sighed. “Maybe… but I’ve never seen him without that hat,” he slumped a bit, beginning to slide back down the window. “Someone else probably took it.”

“Well… would you like me to bring it to you?”

Sammy perked back up, like a dog that heard its name called. It was… pretty hard to read his expressions. His eye didn’t seem to emote much, and as far as she'd seen, he didn’t open or move his mouth at all, even to talk. 

But that suggestion seemed to brighten his mood. Just a little bit.

For a moment, it seemed like he might thank her.

But then he pushed himself off the glass, and turned his back to her again.

“Do what you want,” he said over his shoulder.

Then he walked over, picked his banjo back up, and sat down again. 

“I’ll be back soon.”

Sammy just made a noise in response, clearly done talking.

The quiet sound of Audrey’s footsteps as she turned and left the pit were accompanied by the quiet plucking on a banjo… just a little bit more confidently than before.

[dot-cant-write]

An Ice Skating Outing (Sammy Lawrence x Reader)

A little holiday oneshot for Christmas :)

It was the holiday season again in New York. And within one little animation studio, you and your best friends were planning your Friday night out. 

You were a long-time employee of Joey Drew Studios who worked as a janitor. A simple job, but a nice one because you were able to interact with all different folks within the studio. Your best friends were none other than Wally Franks and Shawn Flynn. Wally Franks was the other janitor of the studio, unfortunately tasked with cleaning up everyone’s messes (sometimes even your own, though you loathe to admit it). Shawn Flynn was a young Irish immigrant trying to make his mark in the studio. How he was going to do that with all those crooked-smiling Bendy dolls he made, you had no idea. 

The three of you gathered in Heavenly Toys, discussing your plans for the holiday season. Wally brought up walking down to Rockefeller Center to ice skate and look at the classic Christmas tree after work. It was a tradition of yours, even though none of you could ice skate to save your lives. Despite this, you and Shawn excitedly agreed to this idea. Tomorrow, the three of you would have a rockin’ time around the giant Christmas tree. 

------------------------------------------------

It was Friday morning, and you were helping Wally clean around the studio. It was your turn to clean the Storyboard and Music Departments. You had just finished up in Story, and as you waved goodbye to a fellow coworker, Dot, you made your way down the hall towards the music studio. 

First, you made your way upstairs to Norman Polk in the projection booth. Truth be told, he never made much of a mess, but he did made good conversation. It was also just fun to watch the band perform. You and he had spent many days up in the projection booth discussing Sammy Lawrence. While Norman found Sammy strange, you found the composer fascinating. He was far from the usual cheery or simply tired employees often found in the studio. Sammy Lawrence was cranky and often pessimistic, but it was almost refreshing in a sense. Wally and Shawn, of course, weren’t glass-half-empty folks. 

Today, they were recording a special holiday edition of Bendy the Dancing Demon. The music sounded beautiful, as always. It certainly helped that the music director was the one and only Sammy Lawrence. Pessimistic he may be, but Sammy knew music. 

You still remember the first time you’d met. You’d been chatting with Jack Fain, the lyricist of the Music Department, during his break. (You refused to visit him otherwise- he worked down in the sewers, and it was far too stinky there.) Most of the time you tried to avoid the Music Department, thanks to Wally’s horror stories of the director. Wally forgot to mention he often got himself into trouble when he misplaced his keys, which usually led to him getting scolded by Sammy. Of course, on that particular day, yet another pipe burst while you finally had a chance to catch up with Jack. The recording room had begun to flood as a result. You and Jack had rescued as much sheet music as you could, and even a few instruments before the ink ruined the studio. You had saved as much as you could, though. Thankfully, it was more than enough to make a positive impression on the music director when he returned. Sammy Lawrence had a look of utter horror on his face as he made he way back from his break (back when breaks actually happened at the studio). You watched as Jack explained what had happened to the composer. When he told Sammy how you and him had rescued the sheet music, Sammy sighed with relief. You gently handed him the pile of music, and he simply said “At least one of these janitors is competent.” 

Since then, you’d been less afraid of the Music Department. In fact, Sammy Lawrence tolerated you, which is more than most can say. Thanks to Jack and to your rescue mission, Sammy had allowed you to hang around. He’d been borderline friendly, which is about as good as you can get when it comes to Sammy Lawrence. The more you spent time with him, though, the more you developed feelings for the director. He was, after all, a handsome man. He had longer blond hair that often fell into cold blue eyes, and despite an icy exterior, something about him attracted you. Especially since he wasn’t so frosty around you anymore. While he didn’t exactly appreciate your outgoing friends, he all but admitted to enjoying your company.

Unfortunately, the composer looked especially stressed today. Probably another deadline due. You frowned. Maybe he needed a pick-me-up. That’s when a lightbulb appeared over your head. Maybe you could be the pick-me-up.

———————————————————————

“I’m going to invite Sammy Lawrence to join us tonight.” You announced over lunch. 

“Are you kidding? You wanna invite mister grouch? The ultimate Scrooge?” Wally asked, flabbergasted at your suggestion. 

“Consider the consequences! Ol’ Sammy is too much of a party pooper.” Shawn chimes in. Always has to get his two cents in. 

“Oh c’mon, guys. Sammy can’t be that bad. Besides, I bet he’s lonely. It wouldn’t hurt to ask him to join us!” You defended, taking a bite of your sandwich. 

Shawn waggled his eyebrows playfully. “(Y/N) just wants to go sweet on him, Wally.”

And that’s what you get for mentioning that the composer was cute to your friends one time. 

Your face heated up. “Shawn, shut it. That’s not what this is about, I just think it’d be fun-“

“You can invite him, (Y/N), we’re just horsin’ around. But I’m bringin’ mistletoe!” Wally teased.

You stuck your tongue out at Shawn and Wally and made your way to the Music Department once more. It was lunch break for most, but if you knew anything about Sammy Lawrence, it was that he didn’t really take breaks. Not anymore, anyway. He was always somewhere in the Music Department, writing the next piece of music or meeting some deadline or another. Not to mention there was always the threat of a pipe bursting nowadays. Sure enough, Sammy was sitting on a stool by his music stand, scribbling into a black notebook. 

You hesitated. “Um, hi, Sammy.”

The composer glanced in your direction, then went back to writing. “Hello. Do you need something?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come with Shawn, Wally and me to Rockefeller Center tonight? We were gonna go see the tree and ice skate.”

“No thanks. Deadline to meet.”

You frowned. “Oh, okay. Are you sure? Maybe you could use a break.”

“Deadline to meet.” Sammy repeated. 

“Okay. I’ll let you get back to song writing then. Sorry to bother you.” With that, you turned away to rejoin your friends, thoroughly disappointed.

———————————————————————

Sammy Lawrence felt guilty. He wasn’t used to that feeling, save for the guiltiness of disappointing Joey Drew. Honestly, a nice stroll in the cold sounded pleasant. But Shawn and Wally weren’t exactly his crowd, and he did have a deadline to meet, even if he enjoyed (Y/N)’s company. Sammy pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag, and slowly blew out the smoke. 

“If I can finish this song…” he told himself. 

———————————————————————

At the end of the day, you met once more with Shawn and Wally. The three of you clocked out (Wally praying for no more messes) and were grabbing your coats. As you wrapped your scarf around your neck, you heard a smooth voice come from behind you. 

“Is that offer still open?” Sammy Lawrence asked quietly. 

You whipped around to face him, ignoring an open-mouthed Shawn and a smirking Wally. 

“Yeah, of course. Didn’t you have a deadline to meet, though?” 

Sammy slipped on his coat. “Finished. And it’s goddamn Christmas. Might as well enjoy the season,” he pulled out a cigarette to light. 

Wally clapped Sammy on the back, earning a scowl in return as he nearly dropped his lighter. “That’s what I’m sayin’! Now let’s get outta here!”

Together, the four of you left the studio. You noticed that Sammy Lawrence kept rather quiet during the walk. He seemed to be breathing in the cold. If he wasn’t taking a drag, that is.

“So, Sammy, you ever been ice skating before?” Shawn asked, pulling his hat lower over his ears.

“Used to on nights after Jack and I got out from the theatre. He’d drag me along before I had to drift for the night.” 

“Are you any good then? The three of us are god-awful on the ice.” You chimed in, earning a “Hey!” from Wally and Shawn.

Sammy simply shrugged. “Not sure. Don’t do it anymore.” 

“Well, we’re about to find out, music man.” Wally announced as your group arrived at Rockefeller. It was quite crowded out, but New York was always lively.   

The tree was jaw-dropping. It didn’t matter how many times you had seen it over the years; every time was like the first time. The tree was lit up gorgeously this year, ornaments climbing its massive branches. Even Sammy paused to take in its magnificence.

“Wow,” breathed out Shawn. “Never gets old, does it?”

“Nope. Gotta be the best part of the season,” Wally replied.

Slowly, the four of you broke your gaze from the tree and made your way to the entrance of the ice rink, where tickets were being sold to skate. The four of your purchased your tickets and went to change into the skates. Wally and Shawn passed you a pair of skates, then winked at you. The pair disappeared into the crowd. That left you and Sammy alone on a bench as you laced up your ice skates. Of course. You should’ve known they would pull a stunt like that. 

“Where’d they go?” Sammy asked as he laced his own pair of skates. 

“Don’t mind them, they’re just being a couple of twits.” 

Sammy chuckled. “Don’t have to tell me twice. Shall we?” He asked, standing wobbly and offering you his hand. You took it, and together you somehow made it onto the ice. Not without you practically tripping over the ledge to the rink, though. Sammy caught you. 

“Thanks. Usually that’s the part where I’d fall on my behind and Wally and Shawn laugh,” you admittedly sheepishly as you tried to regain your balance.

“It’s fine. Don’t know why you insist on skating then, though.”

“Because it’s fun! It doesn’t matter how many times you fall, because we always laugh and help each other back up… eventually.” You smile at him and start to let go of his hand in favor of gripping the rail. Instead, Sammy held your hand a little tighter. You looked up at him, confused, but he refused to meet your eye. Blushing faintly, you started to skate with him.

The weather was absolutely perfect tonight. The lights on the tree at Rockefeller Center shone brilliantly in the New York night. There was a light breeze that ruffled your hair, and Jack Frost nipped at your nose. Despite the cold weather, though, you felt warm next to Sammy. You looked up at him, only to realize that it had begun to snow. Tiny snowflakes sprinkled down and landed in Sammy’s dirty blond hair. You also couldn’t help but notice how surprisingly graceful the music director was on the ice. Maybe it was his tall and lanky stature, but he seemed to have no problem gliding along the rink. 

“Is there something on my face?”

Sammy’s question startled you into reality. A heat spread over your cheeks as you looked away. “Er, no, I just… got distracted.” 

The composer gave a rare smile in response. “Mhm. I’m sure.” He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

“Y’know, I’m really happy you were able to make it tonight.” 

“Yeah well, just don’t tell Joey.”

“Mr. Drew won’t hear a word from me,” you assured him.

——————————————————————————————

You were just starting to get a handle on the rhythm of skating when Wally and Shawn skated around. 

“Hey lovebirds!” Shawn chided.

“How’s skatin’?” Wally asked.

You gave a death glare to Shawn before quickly letting go of Sammy’s hand. “It’s going good. How’re you two holdin’ up? Bet you fell on your asses already.”

“We did!” Wally laughed. “All in good fun, I think.”

You nodded and smiled before Wally and Shawn took off again. “Gettin’ off the ice in fifteen!” Shawn hollered.

“Okay!” You shouted back. As soon as your friends were out of sight, you reached for Sammy’s hand again. He looked at you quizzically.

“So I don’t fall like a complete fool,” you explained. Definitely not because your hand was left cold without his. Definitely not because you simply wanted to hold his hand and ice skate and pretend that you were getting your happily ever after. Sammy Lawrence looked down at your hand in his, then back up at you. His lips upturned just slightly. You continued to ice skate. 

“So… Why don’t you like Christmas?” You asked suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“It’s just… It gets busy. At the studio. And everyone is so annoyingly cheery. I’m not really happy, so why should everyone else be?” He sighed, before adding “I don’t really have any family to go to anyway. Jack always invites me over, but I don’t wanna be a burden.”

This was the most honest you'd ever heard him be with you. It was refreshing. You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’d bet Jack would love to have you. Anyone would. You don’t have to be such a Scrooge. Perhaps a little Christmas cheer is just what you need.”

Sammy chuckled in response. “Perhaps.” The two of you slipped back into the comfortable silence. Before you knew it, fifteen minutes had passed and it was time to find Shawn and Wally. That wasn’t exactly hard to do. The two of them were currently trying to make their way to the rink’s exit, and failing at it. You and Sammy made it to the bench long before they did. Finally, Shawn sat down next to you, and Wally nearly tripped onto the pavement. 

“Why do we do that every year again?” Asked Wally, tugging off his skates.

“You tell me,” you replied, grinning.

“Touche,” Wally shrugged.

Once the four of you had changed out of your ice skates, you split the scene. This was usually the part where you and your friends would head home. You all exchanged glances.

“Well, I had a lotta fun, even if I landed on my rump more times than I can count. But it’s time to head home. I’m outta here!” Wally waved to you all and started his journey home.

Shawn nodded. “Same here. Got to get some rest. Night!” 

And then there were two. You looked up at Sammy. “Well… I suppose I should be getting home, too.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Sammy asked suddenly.

You were taken aback by his question. “I- That would be lovely, actually. Thank you.”

—————————————————

The walk wasn’t too long, but it was certainly cold. You knew you should’ve brought a heavier jacket. One particular gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine. Without a word, Sammy shrugged off his coat and draped it around your shoulders. He seemed completely unfazed by the weather. 

“Thanks.” You smiled gratefully at him, tugging the coat tighter around your shoulders. It smelled like cologne, ink, and cigarette smoke. Somehow, the combination was pleasant. Or maybe it was just what those smells represented. You walked closer to the composer, feeling warmth radiate from him. Soon, you made it to your door.

“Thank you again for walking me home. And for your coat,” you said, handing it back to him. 

“Thanks for good company,” he replied as he slipped his coat back on. He said it genuinely and sincerely.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked.

“You know where to find me.” Sammy turned to leave, and you faced your door. But…

“Sammy, look at this!” You pointed upward at the overhang above your door. The composer faced you, and tilted his head as he glanced upwards. 

“Mistletoe,” you both said. You laughed lightly. Wally and Shawn strike again. You didn’t know how, but you knew it was them. 

“You know the rules, Sammy,” you continued, taking a step towards him. The music director looked at you, a deep blush spreading across his features. He looked positively flustered. Standing on your tip toes, you planted a kiss on Sammy Lawrence’s cheek. His eyes widened and he lifted his hand to gingerly touch the spot where you’d kissed him. Gosh, you wish you could take a picture of that moment. 

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.” And with that, you left the flustered composer on your doorstep. 

You couldn’t wait to tell Wally and Shawn.

[dot-cant-write]

sammy lawrence smells like sheet music and exhaustion

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Mario and Peach teaming up to save Luigi isn't even anything new— it's something that already happened in best Mario game, Super Paper Mario

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can we talk about the cyclebreakers?

i freaking love the idea of the cyclebreakers in batdr, and i can’t stop thinking about it

so obviously the concept of cyclebreakers is anyone who could restart the cycle of batim

henry (by dying or by presenting ‘the end’ reel to the ink demon)

sammy lawrence, the projectionist, malice, betrum piedmont (probably by killing henry, i would assume)

BUT HEAR ME OUT

maybe the cyclebreakers could also break the cycle in a different sense

like the cycle is supposed to be carried out in a specific way. chapter one needs to occur where henry turns on the machine. in chapter two, henry must be attacked by sammy lawrence while trying to make his way to the stairwell and so on.

what if the cyclebreakers can also become sentient and break the cycle that way?

for example, when sammy lawrence is monologuing and tells henry that he “looks familiar to him” and what if that’s sammy on the verge of becoming sentient to the fact that he’s in a cycle?

what if the characters can choose to help henry in the cycle? and that would break it?

i just think it’d be really freakin cool if cyclebreakers meant more than just killing henry to restart the cycle…

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okay so now that batdr is out, i have some questions:

we know that the ink world (the cycle) was created by joey to torture a not-real henry so what does that mean for the other characters???

like is dctl just not canon now? does buddy not actually become the boris we know in the first game? does sammy lawrence not actually go crazy after drinking ink?? what happened to susie campbell?

if dctl is not canon than what determined the way joey included them into the cycle?

what became of the actual people? like how’s henry doing? are sammy and norman dead? what about buddy? is henry the only ‘fake’ person in the cycle?

how exactly did audrey bring the ink demon (in his bendy form) into the real world? is the ink demon on our side now?

how can audrey control the cycle (and does this mean she can control who lives and dies because i desperately want norman, sammy and susie to come back. even bertrum like please)

what becomes of the ink machine? has gent reclaimed it? what does that mean for the future?

just a few thoughts i have. might’ve missed something but i gotta play through again

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A Different Chord - Sammy Lawrence x Reader (Part 7)

It’s not a very good day at work, for you or for Sammy Lawrence.

————————————————————————

It had been two weeks since the strange incident with Sammy Lawrence. You’d honestly begun to walk on eggshells around him- what if he snapped or something? You hated to imagine it, but given his breakdown when you and Wally goofed off… Yeah, you really didn’t want to see that side of him again.

You tried to shake it off best you could, though. You had Wally to talk to anyway, and though he had some crazy theories about the music director, he was still your best friend. At least he could make you laugh in these weird times at Joey Drew Studios.

————————————————————————

Today was an even worse day at work than the day Sammy lost it.

Henry was leaving. Henry, your favorite person in the art department, was leaving. You begged to know why. Hunched over his desk, packing his remaining few things away, he replied “I just don’t think I’m needed anymore. And the studio is becoming something else. I don’t want to be a part of Joey’s… projects.”

Henry shook his head sadly. He had left a sketch on his desk- his first sketch of Bendy the Dancing Demon. He hefted up his box of art supplies and looked at the desk once more. Smiling sadly, he said “Goodbye, old friend.” Then, he turned to you. “Good luck out there, kiddo. And be careful. If things get weird… You might want to consider leaving too.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, his box of belongings in the other, and smiled again before turning and heading for the exit without another word.

————————————————————————

“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” you lamented to Wally on your way to the music department.

“Who’s gone?” Sammy Lawrence appeared around the corner, carrying sheet music.

“Henry. He left the studio this morning,” Wally answered.

“Damn. It’s a shame. He and Joey founded this place,” The music director said.

You shook your head sadly. Sammy frowned.

“C’mon, (Y/N). Follow me.” Sammy led you further down the hall, and Wally waved to you as you followed the music director hesitantly.

Sammy led you to his office. He closed the door behind you. “You okay?” He asked.

He actually seemed.. Concerned. It was like he’d forgotten all about you and Wally getting into trouble.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just really going to miss him. He was a big part of the art department. It won’t be the same without him.”

Sammy thought for a moment. “I wonder why he left. Joey and Henry started this together, like I said. It’s weird he’d just give up on it.”

You hesitated. “He said he didn’t want to be a part of Joey’s projects. I don’t even know what projects he’s talking about.”

You explained what Henry had told you, about getting out of the studio if things got strange.

Sammy’s expression shifted just slightly for a moment. Then he returned to his usual stoic self.

“Projects, huh? Interesting. I agree with Henry, though. Get the hell out of here if things go awry. It might not be so safe anymore.” He turned away and started shuffling through sheet music.

“Sammy, why would I feel unsafe here? Joey’s just a bit overzealous, that’s all. Right?”

Sammy didn’t respond immediately. “It’s.. Complicated. Joey has a lot of big ideas in his mind, I’m sure. Just be careful with him. He’s not trustworthy. He’ll take advantage of you.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll be careful, but I still don’t get what I should be worried about.”

Sammy took your hands. “Good. Just be careful, that’s all I ask. Don’t be like some of us.”

You barely heard him- you were too focused on the fact that he was holding your hands?? The composer almost never sounded kind, and actual physical affection was way out of left field for him. Not to mention his hands were ice cold. And a little shaky. Ink stained his fingertips.

“Uh-huh… Um… Sammy?” You glanced down at your hands in his. Sammy immediately let go and backed away.

“Sorry. Um. That’s all. Sorry about Henry. Anyways. I have songs to write.”

And at that, he rushed you out of his office. What the heck was that all about? you wondered.

Wally was right. Sammy Lawrence was acting stranger and stranger. And you wanted to find out why.

———————————————��———————

Sammy’s POV:

Sammy Lawrence pushed you out of his office, and as soon as you were out of sight, he put his face in his hands.

“What the hell is wrong with me…” he mumbled.

The truth was, Sammy knew exactly what was wrong. Somehow, some way, he swallowed ink. Could’ve been the burst pipes. Could’ve been the way he nervously bit the tip of his pen when he didn’t know what to write. All that mattered was that he swallowed ink.

And now he couldn’t control himself. He was more manic. He wasn’t thinking before he acted anymore. He wasn’t himself.

Shakily, Sammy reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a well of ink.

“Don’t be like some of us…” he repeated to himself.

Sammy lifted the inkwell to his lips.

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i just finished batdr.

it was a MASTERPIECE.

…BUT THEY DID MY MANS SO DIRTY 🫠

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A Different Chord - Sammy Lawrence x Reader (Part 6)

You horse around with one Wally Franks on your lunch break.

A/N: i have not played batdr in it’s entirety yet so please no spoilers but i pray that mr lawrence is in the game

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You and Wally were on lunch break. And by break, you meant that Wally was leaning against your desk in the art department while you tried to finish a sketch for the next Bendy cartoon. Oh, and Wally was definitely eating the sandwich you’d packed. Damn. There goes your peanut butter and jelly.

Wally peered at your drawing, spilling crumbs on the paper. “Whatcha drawin’?” He asked with his mouth full.

You brushed the crumbs away. “Boris the Wolf. And if you get one more crumb on this paper I’m gonna make you regret taking my sandwich, Wally.”

He laughed. You would never hurt a fly, and you both knew it.

“So anyways… What’s up with you and Sammy Lawrence?” Wally grinned mischievously.

“You have peanut butter in your teeth, Wally,” You ignored his question. If you could just get Boris’ stupid nose right…

“Oh come on! Half the studio knows something’s up by now. You’re from the Art Department, he’s from the Music Department- heck, you’re practically Romeo and Juliet!” The janitor teased.

“Nothing is going on, dumbass. Don’t spread rumors. You wouldn’t want me saying stuff about you and Allison, would you?”

“Now see, me n’ Allison are just friends, but Allison and that Tom Connor—“

“My point exactly. Quit spreading rumors,” you interrupted. You put down your pen. Drawing could wait for later.

But the truth was, after your strange encounter with Sammy Lawrence, you weren’t entirely sure how to behave around him. You still weren’t entirely sure if what Norman said was true, either. Wally picking on you certainly didn’t help.

Wally piped up again, making you lose your train of thought. “Listen, all I’m sayin’ is that I’ve never seen Sammy Lawrence look as happy as he is with you.”

Isn’t that what Norman said, too?

“And I think there’s somethin’ up with that kooky composer. He keeps askin’ me about the art department’s ink supply. He’s a strange one, (Y/N). But I support it if you’re into him.”

“Wally! For the last time, I’m not into Sammy! Besides, aren’t him and that Susie girl a thing or something?” You reddened from Wally’s teasing.

“Nah, Susie Campbell? She sure likes him, but I don’t think he sees a darn thing in her. Nothin’ but the voice of Alice Angel. And uh, you’re blushing,” Wally added with a shit-eating grin.

“That’s it you little rascal-“ You suddenly jumped from your desk and chased Wally down the hall.

“Oh shi-“ Wally turned on his heel, sprinting.

Meanwhile, Henry, who overheard the whole conversation, chuckled. “Kids.”

————————————————————————

Wally had no idea you could run so fast. He must’ve really pushed some buttons, huh? But he had no time to laugh at you while you were hot on his trail. The janitor weaved his way through employees, nearly bumping smack into Shawn Flynn, a toymaker.

“C’mon Wally, this one’s got a crooked smile now!” Shawn complained as you ran by.

Wally chanced turning around, only to yelp in surprise. You were like, right behind him! He tried to speed up, running downstairs.

“Oh no you don’t!” You raced after him.

Joey Drew Studios was a maze. You don’t even know how you ended up down by the Music Department.

Joey Drew Studios was a maze. You don’t even know how you ended up down by the music department.

You barely heard the sound of the band playing over the sound of your thumping heartbeat. You were so close to catching that son of a gun-

Bursting through the doors to the recording room, you tackled Wally- wait, why was Wally laughing at you from behind a violinist? Oh no-

You had tackled one Sammy Lawrence instead. Pushing up and off of him, you apologized profusely.

“Oh gosh, Sammy, I’m sorry-“

You glanced at Wally, who blew as raspberry in your direction. Idiot, you mouthed at him. Then you turned back to Sammy, you had stood up off the ground and was brushing off his trousers. He looked at you and shook his head.

It felt like the whole room was holding its breath. Was (Y/N) going to get chewed out? they wondered. Sammy Lawrence shocked them all.

He started laughing.

Goosebumps rose on your skin. Why does what would usually be a wonderful sound, sound so strained?

“I cannot believe your horsing around interrupted us. We have a cartoon due tonight, y’know. Not everyone has time to screw off and run through the halls.” He wheezed, seeming more than a little crazed. “Due tonight! And two more songs I need to write. How the hell does Joey expect this to fucking work?” It seemed more like the composer was talking to himself now. It scared you.

You hesitated for a moment. Should you respond? You supposed it would be best so you and Wally could get out of there. “Yes, of course, it won’t happen again, right Wally?”

“Course not! No horsin’ around from me, no sir!” Wally agreed eagerly.

And with the, the two of you hurried out the way you came.

————————————————————————

“That was scary as anything I’ve ever seen!” Wally sighed, exasperated. You nodded nervously.

“I’ve never seen him like that��� I wonder if he’s just really stressed?” You wondered aloud.

“Listen, I think you should keep an eye on that Sammy Lawrence. There’s something going on, I just know it. Bet it’s gotta do with all that ink he takes. Think he injects it or somethin’? Wouldn’t that be crazy!” Wally theorized.

“Oh Wally, you always think there’s something going on. He just takes extra ink for writing sheet music, I’m sure. And he’s gotta be stressed from Mr. Drew’s deadlines.”

Wally just shook his head. Little did you know, Wally Franks knew a lot more than he let on. It probably saved his life. He wasn’t sure if he could save yours, though.

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me, buying batdr: oh hell yes

me, realizing i own a mac: frick

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THIS ARTSTYLE I CAN’T. I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHHHH

“he appears from the shadows…”

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The Illusion of Living: Sammy Lawrence Archive

 Long time no see, BATIM friends! In light of BATDR releasing soon, I’ve decided to buy The Illusion of Living and compile all the information we have about our favorite music director. I’ll also include information from sources other than TIOL for a more holistic aggregate of knowledge :)

Full post under cut!

Keep reading

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A Different Chord - Sammy Lawrence x Reader (Part Five)

It’s getting busy at the studio, and you can’t find Sammy Lawrence.

A/N: In honor of BatDR not being dead, I have actually written stuff. (Sorry for the wait.)

————————————————————————

It had been nearly half a year since your lessons with Sammy began, and things were busier than ever in the studio. It had been at least a week since your last banjo lesson (though admittedly, they were turning into sessions where you told Sammy gossip from around the studio). One day on your break, you headed down to the Music Department to see Sammy.

Henry had practically kicked you out of the art department anyway, complaining that you’re too young to work straight through the day. He said he was gonna have to talk to to Joey about that. Breaks were practically nonexistent in the studio, after all, especially as of late. Joey Drew’s deadlines were becoming more and more imposing and strict. Now that you thought about it, everyone seemed more on edge lately. You rolled your shoulders back and moseyed towards the music director’s office.

When you got there, you were surprised to see that his office was empty. Maybe he was still with the band? You went down the hall to check. As you rounded the corner into the practice room, you frowned. The room was empty. The band must not be meeting today. Or maybe they were taking their own break. Either way, the practice room was empty.

“Don’t know where he went, kiddo. Kicked us all out awhile ago.” A drawling voice made you jump. Turning around, you found Norman Polk on the balcony, fidgeting with a projector.

“That Sammy Lawrence is a strange one, I’ll tell ya… Once he kicked the band out, he ran all the way up here. Heard him flip the projector on, then he ran all the back down here. He played some instruments or somethin’, and he hasn’t come out for a long time. Peculiar man, dunno what you see in him,” Norman continued. That was the most you’d ever heard him speak. Your face reddened a little at his words.

“He’s just teaching me how to play the banjo, Mr. Polk! Don’t get the wrong idea,” you defended.

Norman grinned like the cheshire cat. “I think you’d better tell him that. Never seen that crazy composer as happy as he is when he’s teachin’ you.”

You shook your head hopelessly, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “I’m going to go find Sammy, Mr. Polk.” With that, you exited the room and started searching around, ignoring what Norman had said.

You couldn’t find Sammy anywhere, oddly enough. You swore he never left the music department, and Norman mentioned he’d been in the band room, but there was no sign of the musician. Instead, you’d decided to settle down in his office and wait for him to return.

—————————

Sammy’s office had become a bit busier as of late. Joey Drew had pipes installed to carry ink for some weird sort of project, and the switch for the pumps was placed there. People often came in and out of the office, usually GENT workers or janitors like Wally. Sammy’s desk had also become a bit messier. It had been a lot busier in the studio and you hadn’t had as frequent lessons… Since when had it become so unorganized?

After turning Sammy’s radio on, you started to stack the sheet music scattered across his desk. There were a lot of ink stains on the music. Come to think of it, there were also a lot of ink bottles in his rubbish bin… Why was he going through so much ink?

You shrugged it off once you noticed a black notebook under the sheet music you’d sorted. Curiosity gnawed on your bones, and as you started to reach for the book—

“(Y/N), you’re in my office.” Sammy Lawrence appeared, leaning on the doorframe. He looked slightly amused.

“Um yup, sure am. It’s a disaster in here, you should hire a maid,” You joked lightly, hoping he hadn’t seen you reach for his notebook.

“How long have you been waiting here?” Sammy asked. Changing the subject.

“Only for a little while. Where have you been? Got time for a lesson?”

The composer only responded to the latter question. “Only a short one. Joey has me writing songs for three different Bendy cartoons, all due tonight.” His expression soured.

“Why not work on those then? I don’t mind.”

“You’re just a distraction, I won’t be able to write much while you’re here. Besides, I have… certain things I have to do. Alone,” he added hastily.

Odd. “Do you want me to leave? Am I too distracting?” You asked, waggling your eyebrows playfully. You tried to keep Norman’s words from creeping back into your head.

“Oh, can it. Quit being a child,” Sammy said, but you swear a smile crept up on his face.

“Make me,” you chided lightly. Sammy strode over to where you were sitting at his desk. He towered over you normally, but was even taller while you sat. Leaning down, the musician placed a hand on his desk. He stared straight into your eyes, smirking. He was so close-

The moment was over in an instant. Turning away, he chuckled. “That’s what I thought. Now please, let me work.”

You should probably tell him what Norman said…

You decided not to.

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A Different Chord — Sammy Lawrence x Reader (Part Four)

You begin taking lessons with the head of the music department.

———————————————————————

Surprisingly, Sammy Lawrence actually did follow through on teaching you. Unfortunately, that meant you had to learn music, and a little bit of music theory. You rolled your eyes internally at the lessons, but you were actually pretty excited, even if your teacher was less than ideal.

In the couple weeks of lessons you’d had, you realized a couple things. The first thing you realized was that Sammy Lawrence, as much as he acted like a grumpy old man, was only twenty-two, a couple years older than you. Second, his grouchiness was probably because of the stressful deadlines Joey Drew imposed on him. Or, maybe the music director really just was that grouchy. The answer you got depended on the band member you asked.

Though, admittedly, you started to warm up to Sammy Lawrence. Sure, he was a total stick in the mud, but he was clever and made witty, sarcastic remarks. He was also quite brilliant in the music department.

Now that the ink was washed away from Sammy, you also learned that he had dirty blond hair that he combed neatly to swoop over his brow, and he had icy blue eyes that often sent glares in a thousand directions. His lips were often drawn into a thin frown, but when you walked in on him playing music, you noticed his features soften. Sammy was tall and lean, with pointy features, for lack of a better word. He rarely smiled; in fact, you had yet to see him do so. But all in all, he was dedicated to his work. You butted heads frequently, but you had to admire his work ethic.

You guessed Norman Polk had the right idea by offering Sammy up as a teacher. You couldn’t ask for someone better.

——————————————————————

Despite being part of the art department, you were really enjoying your music lessons. They’d been going on for at least a month now. After learning to read music, Sammy finally let you start playing banjo, and you felt you were really getting a hang of it. That is, until you actually had to put fingers down on the strings.

Sammy sighed for the umpteenth time. “No, that’s not- Here, just let me show you,” he frowned.

He sat in front of you, and took your hands gingerly in his own. He directed your fingers to the correct frets, mirroring with his own slender ones. “There, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Try strumming that,” he instructed, keeping his fingers pressed over yours.

You listened, strumming the banjo lightly. Then you grinned at the chord- finally! You looked at Sammy, only then realizing how close he was to your face. Flushing slightly, your grin wavered. Sammy seemed to have the same realization, quickly letting go of you and sitting back.

“Finally. It only took you fifty attempts,” he crossed his arms, but you swore you saw the shadow of a smile on his lips and dancing in his eyes. Nonetheless, you took it as a win. That’s about as close as you’d get to Sammy complementing you.

“Take a break,” Sammy said, standing up and stretching. “Not terrible today. Work on stretching your fingers to the frets, and it’ll be more comfortable. Keep you nails short so you can press down on the strings all the way.”

“Will do, Mr. Lawrence. Lesson same time tomorrow?” You asked, gently putting the banjo away.

The musician nodded. “And (Y/N)? It’s Sammy,” he added, turning away from you and making his way down the hall. You smiled.

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A Different Chord — Sammy Lawrence x Reader (Part Three)

You decide to help the musician, hoping for some music lessons.

———————————————————————

Hoping that Sammy Lawrence was going to hold up his end of the bargain, you opted to walk with him towards the employee bathrooms. You had to trot to keep up with him, one of his strides being two of your own. Finally, you reached the employee bathrooms. Lord only knew why Joey designed the studio the way he did. I mean, really- how many floors did the elevator go by before you reached Level K. And why did he name it Level K? It was really strange the more you thought about it.

Alas, the task at hand was helping the grouchy musician clean up. You had gathered as many paper towels as you could, and were presently watching as Sammy attempted- and failed- to scrub the ink from his face. The music director groaned, setting down the towel.

“Maybe you just need a shower,” you suggested. “Plus, you stink.”

You pinched your nose, making a wafting motion at an attempt of a joke, but Sammy just glared at you. Not one for jokes, I guess, you thought, frowning. You were really beginning to miss Henry and Wally. The music director was not nearly as cheery as you’d hoped he would be.

——————————————————————

Today just wasn’t Sammy’s day. After the fifth failed attempt of scrubbing off the ink on his face, he had a bone to pick with one Joey Drew. At least this art kid was helping him out, but he still didn’t understand why. Sure, Norman jokingly offered Sammy to teach her banjo. But she couldn’t actually be serious, could she?

It turned out she was. She showed up a few day after the ink incident. In his office. While he was writing music. Another distraction, Sammy thought bitterly, gritting his teeth.

“Can I help you?” Sammy asked, not bothering to look up from his half-written sheet music.

“I’m here for my lessons,” you answered cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe of his office. You didn’t see the way Sammy’s eyebrows, usually knit together in frustration, rose slightly at your statement.

“Right,” he hesitated. He never did ask your name.

“(Y/N),” you supplied. “Now come on, Sammy!”

“That’s Mr. Lawrence to you,” Sammy corrected.

“Uh-huh, okay,” you nodded impatiently. “Let’s go!”

Sammy rolled his eyes. This kid sure did have a lot to learn. Guess his music would have to wait.