#Susie's probably going to be reoccuring

[transzojja]

amogus

[fruitsofhell]

Goofy ah Forgotten Land essay incoming:

It took me till like a week ago to realize that KATFL writes Elfilis and Forgo as being the same characters and I don't know how to feel about that. I feel Forgo is more interesting as it's own being the way Elfilin is from 'Lis, because I like the idea of them both being these smaller figments of the past self reduced to childish forms representing absolutes of the original. But at the same time, what made me realize that this isn't the game's intention is when I was going to say something about how hollow Elfilis is as a character in comparison to Forgo.

So really, you either make Forgo and Elfilis effectively one character and Elfilin another, negating Forgo of its own identity as a pathetic pitiable beast so that Elfilis continues to have a presence - or you make all three of them seperate characters, and Elfilis loses what they gain as a character from Forgo's motivations.

Elfilis has not a single defined motive for why it attacked the people of the Forgotten Land very much unlike other Kirby villains who can atleast say something like, "power/gain (Magolor), vanity/power (Sectonia), greed (Haltmann), or vengeance (Hyness)". Elfilis and Forgo are often described as invasive species, but what that entails isn't obvious because all we know about 'Lis' evil intentions is from Forgo. But Forgo has its own motivations that exist outside of Elfilis' original wishes - that being its captivity in Lab Discovera, which is very strong on its own.

It adds a very engaging sense of darkness to the legacy of the Forgotten Land, and makes you pity and understand its raw animosity as much as you wish to defend the world from it. The fact that Elfilis was a violent invader rather than just some other alien adds little to its motive, but does add thematic garnish to the idea of how alien life has approached the Forgotten Land. But at the same time, Forgo's captivity is such a strong motivator it really could have stood on its own and still been effective as an alien antithesis to Kirby... Though I admit not as much as what Elfilis is.

Probably to most people that have been reading straight from the games intentions, the former sounds more appealing than the latter. But, probably due to my own stubbornness and bias I really really do love them being 3 seperate entities even at the expense of depth for Elfilis. Because one of my favorite reoccurring themes in this series is vain idealization of the past fucking villains over.

I like this in Taranza's devotion to a Sectonia that no longer exists, Susie to a father that has long since been lost in his own mad schemes to find her, and Hyness obsessing over a very flawed understanding of his cult's past. And I USED TO LIKE the idea that Magolor's obsession with the crown was him, as a *Halcandran* glorifying Halcandra's past relics, but CANT HAVE THAT ANYMORE.

If the Kirby writers don't got me anymore, I guess I'll got myself. I like the idea of Forgo being as seperate from Elfilis as 'Lin is, but while Elfilin is all of their originals innocence, purity, and hope, Forgo is its raw anger and vengefulness. Visually taking Elfilis's soft/mammalian and alien/insectoid motifs respectively, but both distinctly being immature and incomplete states. Elfilis was not just that anger nor just that hope (wherever it came from), and is only the culmination of those two sides, it's a symbol of a self the two can never be on their own - one that Forgo idealizes and one Elfilin avoids.

For the sake of the ending where Elfilin reclaims the last bit of Forgo/Elfilis that is willing to go on, I prefer the mutuality of Forgo and Elfilin moving on together, rather than Elfilin just accepting Elfilis if that makes ANY sense. I just like the way Forgo and Elfilin parallel eachother more than he does with 'Lis? I like the narrative of healing that acknowledges that Forgo and Elfilin are both lost and grieving children, rather than Elfilin abandoned Elfilis who then became Forgo. Like the latter feels oddly possessive and unbalanced.

And as I said in line with past series themes, I kinda like the idea that whatever the fuck Elfilis had going on is irrelevant, just as seeing the faces of the people of the Forgotten Land is irrelevant - all that is relevant is what was left behind. I like the idea that Elfilis cannot really speak for itself anymore as a character the way the people of the Forgotten Land can only speak through their ruins and audio recordings. And as those people left behind a legacy of reclaimed wonder and terrible cruelty, in response, Elfilis left behind one of innocent hope and unbridled anger. I'd prefer to try and piece together what those two opposing visions say of their predecessor than just assume one speaks for them in its entirely I s'pose...

[moonamite]

Heartstings- Carried

He tried his best to fall asleep, but he was only able to sleep for what felt like seconds as he faded in and out of consciousness to the sound of the footsteps and muffled conversation from the party. After a while he felt slightly better, though still tired. “Hey-” He spoke up, poking his face out of the bag. His voice didn’t hurt as much as it did before, but it was still sore. “I th-ink I can walk now.” He said. Kris stopped in their tracks and grabbed him, making him flinch, though he knew Kris wouldn’t harm him... Right? Well, if Kris really wanted him dead, why would they have saved him in the first place? He was safe around Kris, but they probably weren’t friends. If he really did try to kill them, then they could probably never be considered friends. He was put on the ground, and he stumbled a little at first, but was able to get balanced. He’d always been short, but now he felt ant-sized. The three of them weren’t remarkably tall or anything, but the distrust in the air plus his weakened state made him feel vulnerable. Susie in particular worried him. She despised him, and she didn’t bother to hide it. She looked as if she’d rip his head off if he even looked at her wrong, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. She was probably expecting him to go crazy again at any second and try to hurt the others. And honestly, he didn’t trust himself either. What if it wasn’t really over? What if this freedom was only temporary, or even worse, a trap, trying to make him feel a false sense of safety? What if that thing was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, when everyone had their guard down? His worries only got worse the more he thought about it. At least if he started to loose himself again, they had someone strong to stop him while he could be stopped. He was on his feet now, and was going to walk with his legs, and they were finally his to use again. He took a shaky step forward. His knees didn’t shatter instantly, so that was good. The group began walking, with Susie shooting an untrusting glare at him before turning around. He’d half to walk quickly in order to keep up with them. He started to speed-walk, but a sharp pain shot up his leg making him yelp in pain and stagger backwards. The noise made Kris and the others turn to see him hunched over and gripping his injured leg, shaking. “Sorry- I’m sorry- I don’t think I can- Can keep up with you...” He apologized, stuttering as the sharp pain turned into a throbbing ache. He slowly and carefully stood back up. “It’s fine, i’m fine... I can keep going, it’s nothing- Ghh...” He said, which was a lie- He wasn’t fine, in any way, at all. He was... Scared. No matter how much he tried to reason with himself, he couldn’t rid himself of the fear in his gut. Kris saved him, he shouldn’t be so scared! But deep down, he knew why. He’d just been saved, and he was terrified he’d end up making Kris regret it by getting in the way and slowing them down... Making Kris want to get rid of him, or abandon him, leaving to fend for himself. He didn’t want to be left alone again, not like... A hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked up, being pulled out of his spiraling thoughts. “Kris...?” The human had knelt down to get to his level. They said nothing, which seemed to be a reoccurring theme with them, but it was almost... Comforting? He didn’t know why, but it made him feel just a little bit better. He was then picked up carefully and put back into the bag. He was about to protest, but realized that it was probably easier this way than to drag himself painfully around the place. He settled in, trying to find a comfortable spot amongst all the other items, carefully moving aside some of them to avoid breaking anything potentially important. There were some nice shiny things in there, perhaps even valuable things. He’d occasionally pick up and inspect some of the items, but wasn’t going to take anything. The others probably needed these things more than he did... But they were somewhat comforting to fidget with.  He felt so horrible for trying to kill the three of them- He wouldn’t have done it if he was in control! He’d never kill anyone! But he still felt like he was responsible... So, he decided he’d try his best to make it up to them.

[queenofcats17]

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Run.”

“What-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she envied them more than anything.

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

They had Sammy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lawrence,

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

-Alice Angel

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

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

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

[phoena12]

Bring Forth The Sweet Memories Of Old

so just real quick for any that have read my fanfiction, this is something i’ve been working on for a while and thought id share on here!

(you can read the first two chapters here-http://archiveofourown.org/works/11850006/chapters/26752914 

also @omsrandom and @scipunk63 i said id be coming for you via angst, best prepare yourselves fufufu~~

Journal For A Devil ch3

 The studio sits silent, the cries of the prophet having died down to small, harsh whispers falling predator upon the crisp music sheets marked in ritualistic hymns, the slaps and thuds of heavy ink making their way down the decrepit halls, leaving the odd splotch on the walls or flooring, had now disappeared into the gloom of the place. The odd creak of the building could be heard on the occasion, as the foundation shifted or the cries from down below had reached the top floor but, those were best left for another day.

 Our star peers his void optics up from the journal, taking more of the room in. true, the place was rather well organised and clean considering the state the rest of the studio was in, aside from a broken chair with two of its legs missing and the reoccurring theme of ink stains on all the walls and flooring, the room was well looked after. It surprised the demon that Sammy had even managed to retain any memories of Susie after what he had become or maybe, it was just a blind obligation to his lost loved one. How bittersweet, considering the raving lunatic hated the angel down below.

 From what bendy could remember Susie had been quite a conundrum, very loud and bright and full of joy. And so very full of noise. At least, that’s what his other memories told him. He never much cared for the woman, toon or otherwise. And Alice had been no different, sweet and endearing, entrancing all who had come to watch her. It was funny to think how much she lied.

 The two were taken and torn from themselves that day, crawling from the screaming depths the ink machine had spat out, to become a new and horrifying being hell bent on becoming whole and perfect again. A futile endeavour he had thought, no being could become like themselves once entering this place. They were all living evidence of that. Alice was no longer Alice and Susie no longer Susie and neither were the angels they had been, rent from heaven by the cruel hands of Joey Drew. Bendy shuddered, or rippled in his case, reverting his covered gaze to the journal once more. He could no longer hear the ravenous cries of Sammy at having discovered his lord and saviour had visited the old music room. He was probably busy finding some use for the ink that had spilled from Bendy’s form in his haste to depart. You can only spend so many years listening to Sammy’s religious ravings before going a bit nuts yourself and bendy had far more important matters than lacerating his body to inky pieces. Journal still in hand, he flicks through a couple of pages, passing the entries on how Henry’s livelihood went after leaving the company. It doesn’t take long for him to find an interesting entry though, the pages coming to a stop at the day henry joined the studio.

 ~~0~~

 January 2nd 1930

 Today has been a hitch, I finally got a reply to one of my applications! It’s at that small studio on the edge of town, Joey Drew studios, or well, technically it’s called silly vision studios but I guess was originally named after the owner himself. The job itself is as an animator at the studio, looks like things’ll be turning sunny soon enough for me!

  The interview had gone surprisingly well, Mr Drew asked me the standard questions of why I wanted to join and whatnot and when the question of what my previous job was I was able to lie and say it was at some press company. I was pretty sure I was sweating at that point but Mr Drew kept a jovial smile and we continued on.

I was also asked to demonstrate my drawing skills and draw the main character, Bendy, which caught me off guard but I’m never one to back down from a challenge. Mr Drew had gone quiet at this point clearly analysing my skills, it was kinda stressful but as I etched each  line into the paper I began to calm, drawing has always been therapeutic for me and drawing this charming little guy was kinda fun . After having finished the drawing I was heavily praised for the work, receiving compliment after compliment, and a few critiques which was to be expected, but flattering nonetheless! As I listened to Mr Drew praise my drawing I concluded that the man was rather friendly and hospitable, he’s definitely passionate about his cartoon that’s for sure, going on about all the ideas he had for the show and saying he had big plans in store.

  It’s nice to see someone with the same drive as me.

 The interview ended with him shaking my hand and welcoming me to the studio with a big grin akin to the little toon. I didn’t know how to react at first, standing there with my jaw almost hitting the floor (I must’ve looked so shocked!), I mean he just gave me my dream job right on the spot! He gave me a slight slap to the back, his hand remaining there as he ushered me out of the room and further into the studio, saying that if I were to start working here it was only right he give me a tour of the place.

 The studio itself was pretty old, if the dust and cobwebs were anything to go by and it didn’t seem to matter where you stepped, the floorboards creaked if you put even the smallest of weight on them, it was pretty magical actually, like being in a dream. The tour began with walking throughout the halls and entering through different doors into another hallway (the place is like a maze!) until we reached the animation department, which mostly consisted of an old wooden desk and a chair in  front, all tucked away into a little corner. A little odd and reminded me of the small, cramped space I had back at the Pym offices but Mr Drew had said it was so the animators could focus more on their work than on their surroundings or colleagues. I suppose he has a point.

 The next room we stopped at was the break room. It had dim lighting but was well furnished with; chairs, a table which had some cards splayed out on the wooden surface, a rather comfy looking couch with a few stray ink splotches and finally, a small black stove braced against the wall. Mr Drew said that a lot of the employees sometimes stayed to work overnight, especially when a deadline was coming up, and so he had the stove installed so that the workers could eat a proper meal before heading back to work. “It’s important to stay healthy whilst you work and I wouldn’t want any of my colleagues to feel low on energy!” Mr Drew had said, a cheery and noble tune to his voice, this guy really is something else. Mr Drew made his way back up the steep wooden steps we had descended into the room, cheeringly talking about the cartoon and the next department we were to visit. I took one last look around the room, the scent of bacon wafting in my nose, the small dust motes that fell from the ceiling and the array of promotional posters adorned along the walls, each stating the title of the episode with a drawing of Bendy on some adventure. It was cute, more homely than anything and I would’ve liked to spend more time taking it all in but Mr Drew had ascended the steps and was calling my name. Apparently Mr Drew had to have a short talk to the music director and he thought he might as well bring me along to make an introduction but that the music director (Sammy I believe he had called him) wasn’t much for patience with other people and that we might make haste.

 ~~0~~

 Bendy’s eyes roamed over the crinkled page, small huffs rising in anger as he reads more on his creator, an occasional growl clawing its way up his throat, trying to ward off any terrors that the words may invoke. Joey was always a conniving and manipulative guy in the background, his honeyed words and false smile a mask to fool those he suckered into working for him. Sweet sayings to make you think he was pure of heart, hah! The man was foul and grotesque and deserved to rot. Bendy shivers, unwanted memories making a hum beneath his ink. Soft, breathy calls from the past, trying to lure him into madness again. He wouldn’t go back, not yet. He wouldn’t listen to that other mind, the being only whispering mad things and lies. No, he resolves to keep reading, ignoring the mellow hums of angered cries. Just for a little a longer.

 ~~0~~

 The walk to the music department was short and peaceful, occasionally stopping to introduce myself to passing employees. Mr Drew keept a languid pace, odd seeing as he had said the director didn’t like to be kept waiting. I inquire as to our slow pace and the directors lack of patience, Mr Drew replies with a jovial “it’s always fun to make Sammy wait, consider it revenge”. That had me a little worried.

 “Revenge for what?” I had cautiously inquired, perhaps the two didn’t have a great relationship and were using me as a catalyst for their feud. I would like to hope not.

 “hmm, well you see, Sammy has a bad habit of being rather snappy towards people, so this is just a small revenge you see?” again, replying with that same jovial tone, the odd undertone of malice flickering in and out, though his posture remains the same. Stood tall and relaxed, shoulders slightly slacking and a small smile present on his face. His eyes distant as if in thought. I should make a note not to get on Mr Drew’s bad side, he seemed to take great pleasure in the upcoming argument. I simply nod my understanding and continued walking.

 “And besides” he had begun “Sammy always plays best when he thinks he’s alone” a small wink is sent my way.

 I had looked at him in puzzlement before I could hear the faint tunes of a banjo down the hallway. The melody was soft and thrummed with life, each pluck of the string capturing my attention as it filled the hall with its merriment and sombre song. It was like being transported to a different realm, everything falling away as I had unconsciously closed my eyes, trying to sync with the music more. It was beautiful. Beside me, Mr Drew hums along to the tune, although I can say I’ve never heard of anything like it before, his face peaceful and loose, a smile still haunting his lips.

 Before I know it we had arrived at Sammy’s office and Mr Drew pushes through the great oak door with a flourish, the sound of clapping knocking me out of  my reverie and it appeared the same could be said for Sammy, the sound of wood knocking against wood as Sammy snaps from his own trance and drops his banjo. His surprised, youthful face melting away into an old snarl towards Mr Drew as he makes his way towards Sammy’s desk. The harsh claps of his hands faltering for a mere second before making small talk with Sammy. I had stood there in the doorway, still feeling a little dazed and mostly awkward, Mr Drew having momentarily forgotten me to congratulate Sammy on his beautiful rendition of Mozart. The praise is met with taut words and a heated stare.

 Sammy gestures to me after a while, asking if I’m the new guy, to which Mr Drew enthuastically replies that I am and that he was just giving me a tour of the place. Sammy huffs, rubs his face and replies why the hell was Joey bringing an animator down this way just for an introduction, he’s a busy man, and he doesn’t have time for this. Mr Drew promptly replies that if Sammy has time to slack off and play his banjo he has time to make introductions. I couldn’t see Mr Drew’s face, his back being to me but Sammy’s frown seemed to drop a fraction further before he stands and stalks over to me. As he approaches I notice the dark, heavy bags under his eyes, the faint lines on his skin from all that possible frowning and I notice how cold and distant his eyes seem.

 “Well? Ya gonna shake my hand or what?” he had snapped. I hadn’t even realised he had stuck his hand out for me to shake (how rude of me!) and quickly take it in my own, a quick exchange of welcoming being given. He retracts his hand and stuffs it into his pocket. “I’m Sammy, music director for the show, although I have a feeling you already know that” he side eyes Mr Drew, harsh like winter and Mr Drew simply waves back at him, ignoring the anger laced in Sammy’s words. We talk then, just a small bit, telling him my own name and such although I feel a slight hindrance to do so, he is very intimidating.

 For a moment we lapse into silence and before Mr Drew can jump back into the conversation and pester Sammy, said music director promptly pushes us out of his office and bites a “goodbye” through gritted teeth. How charming. Mr Drew just laughs and says that went surprisingly well, considering Sammy is usually more spiteful to new people. My expression must have been rather worried looking as Mr Drew simply says that he’ll get used to me in no time and who knows, we might even be friends. I decided not to make a statement on that.

 ~~0~~

  Bendy lets out something akin to a snort, his breathe coming out in a long huff. Go figures that Sammy was still as spiteful in his youth as he was when Bendy came to be, always with the snarls and cold eyes. Bendy remembers the cries of outrage as he flooded the music director’s office, cursing and spluttering and falling in the ink. Oh those were good times.

 Tired yawns masked pained cries, heavy bags under his eyes, a taut and tight smile when he had to. But that’s only what people saw on the outside. Sammy was a man of music, whenever he had the chance you can bet he’d be playing that old banjo of his, sweet melodies they were, always gentle and lulling you into relaxing, carrying sombre lyrics if he felt like it. Truly Sammy was one of a kind, snarky and ill-mannered as he was, he had a cracked heart of gold.

 A faint memory, like the flutter of a birds wings, sings at the back of Bendy’s mind. An old memory but a good one, as someone peers from around a corner, agitation vibrating throughout their body, to find a young Sammy Lawrence crouched low, muttering soft words to a distressed child. It appears the child has lost his toy and no adults seem to be around. A dangerous place to get lost, the toy workshop, too many winding mechanisms the child could get trapped in. Sammy coos at the child, picks them up in his arms and heads over to Shaun’s workshop. The memory flickers and wavers before being replaced with a new one, this time the person viewing the scene is surrounded by small children, tired but keeping up a pleasant façade for the little ones, each asking different questions about the cartoons. Sammy is nowhere to be seen. As the person begins to talk, their voice sounding static and warbled, a small child trots from around a corner to join his classmates, a small bendy plush clutched tightly to his chest. The man speaking looks up in the direction the child had come from to see Sammy taking off back around the corner, a small, soft smile on his face.

 A good memory and a very rare one at that. Sammy always had a soft spot for kids, which when Franks had found out, loved to tease him about. But how odd. For what purpose did Sammy of all people have down at the toy workshop?

 Bendy breaks from his musing. This is dangerous he knows. To remember so many things at once but he was getting close, he could feel it. Close to unlocking something, he need only bear a few more pains and he would finally have his answers.

 He reads on.

 ~~0~~

 After leaving the music department and the foreboding aura of Sammy behind we continue on our way to our last stop, the screening room, to meet a man called Norman Polk. Along the way, Mr Drew talks animatedly about the cartoon, I tried to ask questions and make my own comments but the man was on such a roll that I couldn’t get a word in edgeways. I continued to walk in silence more than happy to listen to him talk.

 Whilst on our way to the screening room, we meet with a young black man, unruly black hair and, when he took note of our approach, an even more unruly smile to match. He carried a pail of inky black water in one hand and a mop in his other, held forward as it were a staff of some kind to ward of any ill luck. He greets us with a smile and gives me a once over. Mr Drew introduces me and we make small talk, the occasional joke flitting back and forth at Mr Drew’s expense and to my embarrassment. The man’s name is Wally Franks, janitor to the studio and, through Mr Drew’s words, the crown fool of the studio. A wink is sent my way upon being told that, he seems a rather coy fellow if the smirks and winks are anything to go by. But it was odd, I recall Mr Drew seeming rather irritated by his snickers, as if they carried more malice than what was being intended. How odd. He let a sigh out, long and tiring, says “Welp, this place ain’t gonna clean itself” and leaves, his smirk falling a bit. Despite his cocky attitude I sensed that he did not enjoy his job very much.

 As soon as Wally is out of sight, Mr Drew lets out a small sigh, says to not take any of Wally’s future pranks too seriously and that he apologises in advance for his colleague’s antics. I simply wave him off and tell him not to worry. Surely he can’t be that bad?

 The rest of the walk to the screening room is mostly silent, Mr Drew keeping his head forward and posture straight. He definitely seems to carry authority. Having thought that at the time it made me look back on Hank and how similar the two are. Very well kept, neat and tidy individuals, an intelligent glint to their eyes. The difference being that Mr Drew always seemed to have a smile on his face, a light and jovial tone even when dealing with people he didn’t like. Far different from Hank. Lost in my thoughts again I am brought back by a soft nudge, Mr Drew asks if I’m ok and I stammer and say that I am. We had arrived at the screening room and entered.

 Before us were two to three rows of chairs messily disorganised in front of a blank wall, a square of light shining down to create a panel on the old wood. A few instruments were laid about the room, a discarded cello, a big drum propped in the corner and a solitary piano to the other side, its lid open invitingly. Mr Drew gives the room a quick survey and calls out Norman’s name but it heeds no reply. Having said that upon entering the room I had felt as if I were being watched and can say that was indeed the case as the projectionist himself pops up behind us out of nowhere, startling both of us. I nervously chuckle as Mr Drew swings round and scolds Norman. The man replies with a “did you not hear me come down the stairs?” and Mr Drew laughs. The two bicker a few more moments before Mr Drew introduces me to Norman. I take note that he’s quite tall and has a knowing look about his eyes.

 He stares at me a few moments, and I feel a sense of foreboding, he asks “do you know a guy name Pym?” and I nearly blanche. My first day here and already someone has outed me as being the previous co-manager for Pym and co. or so I thought as I reply with a calm “no”, sweat trickling down my back. He shrugs his shoulders and continues on with introductions and how the screening room works, seemingly dissuaded from my connection to Hank, though were he made the connection to begin with still eludes me. I ignore Mr Drew’s curious glances and shrug my shoulders in turn, hopefully that is enough to deter him for some time, though lady luck is never one to favour me for long.

 I discuss the screening room at length with Norman, hoping that he’s forgotten about the subject all together and we end the conversation with the authoritive nonchalance of Mr Drew proclaiming that time for touring the studio was up. Something about an upcoming deadline and financing that needed attending to. I give my regards to Norman and as we leave the lit up room I felt the burning of his eyes never leaving my form, I’ll have to keep an eye out for him whilst I’m here.

 ~~0~~

 Bendy had a certain fondness for Wally, mainly for the fact he loved mischief as much as he did when first coming to the world, and he was a great scape goat for all his pranks. Not that Joey could really scold the little toon for his mischief when every other living being inside the studio had no idea he existed physically. Bendy also thought that Wally would have made for a good friend, someone to talk to and make mischief together. But those were dreams of folly he knew and he had kept his presence hidden from most at the time. He thought it a shame as to what happened to Wally but then again, nothing full of life and joy lasts long down here.

 Most being the key word there, as despite his efforts the little toon could not keep his playful antics at bay when regarding Norman. The man was a difficulty to get a rise out of and in Bendy’s short time he tried to get the man to jump or squeal just once. And he went too far and paid the price for it, or rather Norman did. It was only meant to be a small trick, something simple that was sure to get a rise out of the silent man but much to Bendy’s negligence at the time, he failed to hear the approaching footsteps and was seen momentarily by him. He had the feeling that Norman didn’t much like him, his hard stare always following the ink demons form wherever he was, his cool optics burning holes into his form as he roamed around his domain. Even when he was out of sight, he could still feel his projected gaze seeking him out from the shadows. Bendy tended to avoid him from then on in if he could and always carried a niggling sense of guilt at his unfavourable demise. If Joey wanted something to stay secret it would be held so by any means.

 ~~0~~

 Mr Drew ends the tour with seeing me to the front door, sunlight pouring forth into the studio, and tells me he’ll see me next Monday fresh and early to start work. I’ll be given a more in depth description of the workings of the animation department on Monday I suppose. That day when I left the comforting warmth of the studio and into the brittle cold air of January, I felt happy. Though as I say, lady luck only gives her favours on short terms bases as I arrived to my small apartment. I entered to find the place ransacked. Luckily the vial and journal had managed to stay hidden and untouched. I wonder if I could hide it at the studio, there are plenty of places to hide them and I doubt that S.H.I.E.L.D. would think to look there, it is better than keeping them here where they may be found.

 ~~0~~

 With the end of the entry Bendy is left with impossibly more questions than he started out with. It makes his head ache impossibly more and his vision blurs slightly. It would seem he has pushed his own luck a bit far today, the voices cased within his ink, squirming around, chattering relentlessly. He places the tattered book upon the desk, beginning to weary of reading and notices a small face on the bottom of the page. It’s his face. His old one. With eyes full of joy and mischief and a big grin to match. A couple of lines are wobbly and then Bendy feels himself swaying and suddenly it’s all too much. The memories surge beneath his ink, pressing and rippling against his body, trying to force their knowledge unto him with overwhelming strength.

 Bendy can hear them, the faint chatter of co-workers passing through the halls, the scratch of pen to paper as an animator inks out his star creation of the studio with a fluid grace, the cursed mumbles of Joey as he pours over a leather bound book, scratching symbols and jumbled words onto a piece of bloodied paper. His form sinks to the ground, heavy drops of ink falling at his sudden descent to pool on the floor, his clawed hands raking at his face to try and free himself from the stinging sounds and fractured images. He remembers everything in that short time, writhing in pain on the floor as image after gory image wracks his body with shock. He fights with himself trying to unsee all the crimson ink that stains a pentagram by his feet, projecting a fiery glare about the room.  He tries to block out all the sound too but it does nothing except ricochet around his head with more force. He knew reading the journal would cost him some sacrifice but to this extent he had not expected.  

 What a fool he was, hmm?

 Bendy knows the best way to handle the situation is to let the ink takes its course, thrumming and throbbing throughout his entire body , slowly diminishing him in size as huge globs of ink stream from his body still. But he couldn’t, the rage and pain coinciding to rip a roar, more similar to that of a human cry of pain and a demons murderous growl, from his throat and thunder throughout the studio.

 And all the while the tattered journal that sat silent and forgotten, lay open atop the desk, the doodle of Bendy staring sightlessly toward the ceiling, its mouth now casting an ominous and cruel grin.