#i need to log back into my ao3's | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

afreakingdork · 1 year

Text

Tactical Entreat

RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Aged-up Turtles, Guns, Cursing, Hate Make Out

Synopsis: It seems to be a lousy day when at your first Airsofting game there just so happens to be an overzealous pro on the other team that has it out for you.

Also available on ao3

Goodness gracious, do to all the planets aligning, @donathan 's incredible genius tactical!Donnie, and @unknownfanartist 's wonderful base idea, this one-shot came to be. I cannot thank them enough for their creations and existence. Also being able to be apart of a brain chemistry alternating fandom phenomena event is just stellar. Without future ado, Please enjoy my take on tactical!Donnie!

Maybe it was the weather that kicked off your foul mood.

When the desolate two lane road gave away to gravel and then dirt, the shocks on your friend’s car weren’t the only thing that were worse for wear. Emerging into the muggy air, you bent backwards and pressed your hands into your lower back. There was nary a pop to be had. Giving up and grouching into a slump, your friend passed you a hat.

“You’re gonna need that.”

“Fine.” You ground out, donning the thing. When you brought your attention back up, you found them now holding out a pair of clear black rimmed goggles.

“These too.”

“I got it.” You griped and wondered why they’d offered you the hat first. You removed the headwear to put the safety precaution on and then placed the cap back on your head. “We good now?”

“Yeah, let's go. My sister’s explaining everything.”

You could indeed hear said woman already droning on about precautions to take in the woods. You both approached her, but your attention drifted skyward. Overhead an oppressive thin layer of grey clouds covered the entire expanse. There wasn’t even rain in the forecast. This was just a show of humid superiority. You glared at them.

While you had your mental battle with the atmosphere, your friend knocked your shoulder.

“Come on, we’re heading out.”

“Out? Aren’t we here?” You asked, giving the clouds one last stern look before brining your attention to your friend. Their sister and a third ancillary friend had begun to head down a thin trail.

You friend gave a dry chuckle. “This is just the entrance to the forest, we’re meeting the other team on the… course so to speak.” They took the first step and you fell in line with them.

“Why’d you say it like that?” You hopped what you considered an ominous fallen branch just at the tree line.

“There’s no really a course. We can use the whole woods, but there’s this area with different elevations deeper in.”

“Why’d I agree to this?” You glanced up to find the tree line mostly marring the bleak sky.

“Because you have unchecked aggression.”

You hummed in agreement and continued on what was increasingly becoming a hike. The trail began to dissipate and the brush thickened out. Your only directionality came from your friend’s sister’s determined leadership.

“Who’s the other team?”

“Badasses.” Your friend responded without hesitation.

“Please tell me your joking.” You watched as your friend took a few more steps and turned back to you with an amused brow you could see even through their goggles. “Why are we, first timers, playing against pros?”

“Because my sister hates us.” Your friend shrugged and you both continued to trudge through the thicket until said sister stopped.

She then slung a large bag from around her shoulders. “Let’s gear up before we meet the guys.”

You watched as she set the bag on a rotted log and unzipped it to reveal a plethora or pristine airsoft guns. There was a demonstration on refilling the pellets, but you were busy combing over the details of the rifle you were passed. Once everything was said and done, you noticed a lone handgun left in the bag just before your friend’s sister zipped it up.

“What about that one?”

“Huh?” She looked down. “That one’s kinda faulty. It sometimes doesn’t fire. You want it?”

That seemed like a joke. You could make one of your own. “Sure.”

She grinned toothily and had the object soaring in the air right at your head as soon as the word left your lips. You juggled it and looked up to find she’d already stowed the bag back onto her person.

“Great.” You shared a glance with your friend who gave a knowing shrug.

Your group continued on deeper into the forest until you noticed that your current trajectory was starting to elevate above a lower level. From the back of the pack you swerved to the side as best you could and saw that twisting mounds of dried earth shifted even higher up ahead. You also caught a glimpse of a purple bandana. Intrigued, you leaned to see more, but the tree line shifted and the path curved. Rounding the bend, your group stopped at a small clearing.

You friend’s sister had stopped on the other side of the clearing and was talking to a group of four men. You would have made fun of their color coordinated bandanas if it weren’t for the fact that they were wearing full tactical gear. You paled at them. You friend’s sister laughed heartily at something and smacked the red one on the shoulder. In doing so that you noticed the way her green tactical vest shifted. You dragged your attention from them to the ancillary friend who also had a vest on.

“Uh…” You reached out, not wanting to look away and swatted at where you hoped your friend was.

There was a resounding slap as you made contact with their face. They wouldn't like that. “What is wrong with you?!”

“We don’t have vests.”

“No, we do not.” Your friend responded and pinched the delicate skin on the top of your hand harshly.

You hissed and retracted the appendage before finally turning to glare at them. “Shouldn’t we?!” You gestured to in the general direction of everyone else.

“Nah, my sister said the regular pellets don’t hurt that much. Besides, we’re only doing chest shots.”

“What do you mean?” You seethed and your attention was dragged back at the four men. The one with the purple bandana was split off from the group and seemed particularly bored with a cigarette hanging lazily between his lips He caught sight of you watching him and reached up to remove the stick. Your head tilted incrementally as he looked straight at you and gave a sneer. Your head shrank back in disgust. “What’s with that guy?”

“Which?” Your friend followed your eye line. “Oof, that’s Donatello.”

“Oof?” You tore your gaze away from the chuckling man to your friend.

“He’s really intense about the game. You should steer clear of him.”

“Wait, you know who those guys are?” You jolted with realization.

“I’ve never met them, if that’s what you mean.”

You stared at them as they seemingly stopped dead in their conversational tracks. “And?”

“Huh? Oh, right. I mean my sister has plays with them, so I know what she’s told me.” You friend pointed lazily towards the group. “They’re brothers and the color thing sure helps, huh? The red one’s Raphael, he’s kind of a tank and never goes down right away because he doesn’t feel when he’s been shot. The blue one’s Leonardo, he’s tricky, but he knows the line which unfortunately, purple Donatello, does not. I don’t know about the orange one though. I thought there were just three bothers.”

“Great, sick the platoon on us.” You jeered and stomped over to the group with your friend in tow.

“Finally.” You friend’s sister rounded. “Ready to play?”

“No introductions?” Your friend sighed.

“I saw you pointing.” She chided. “I guess there is one newbie on their team though.”

“Hey, guys!” The orange brother waved and his rifle swayed from side to side at the motion.

“That’s Michelangelo. His big brothers finally decided the runt could play with them.”

“We didn’t want our widdle Mikey to lose an eye.” Leonardo chimed in, dropping an affectionate elbow onto his sibling’s head.

"I have literally been an adult for years and that happened one time!" Michelangelo squirmed, but couldn't get free.

“You don’t have to be so formal…” Raphael held up a hand to point. “Raph, Leo, Mikey, Don-”

“Donatello.” The purple brother interjected. “I’ll decide how I’m referred to, thank you very much.”

Could he be any haughtier?

“Right…” Raph trailed off and shook his head.

You chanced another glance at Donatello and found him already watching you. You soured and he tauntingly wagged his eyebrows in return. Officially ticked off, you turned to stare down your friend’s sister. “When do we start? I’m ready to shoot.”

Your friend’s sister put her hands on her hips and sized you up. “Alright, we’ll get to it. We’re gonna split the teams up to account for dead weight. Namely you.” She reached out and caught your friend’s arm. “You’ll be on a team with your friend since they’re a sheep in an unknown pasture. Leo, Raph, you two ok with these bums?”

“Hold up your gun like you’re going to fire.” Leo instructed, pushing off from where he was still perched against his sibling.

You and your friend obeyed the action.

“Eh, rough, but we’ll work with that.” The blue brother gave a thumbs up to Raph who returned it.

“That means you’ll be facing off the dream team.” Your friend’s sister stepped over to Donatello, the ancillary friend, and Mikey.

“I’ve knocked you out every single game we’ve played so far.” Leo flicked the tails of his banana like they were his hair.

“We’ll level the playing field and duke it out then.” You friend’s sister gave you and their sibling a wicked smile.

“How about we go strategize…?” Raph urged. The red brother then grabbed Leo and used him to steer you and your friend further down a path to the lower level. You glanced over multiple shoulders and caught a glimpse of Donatello saying something to Mikey.

Once sufficiently away, the two brothers on your team then proceeded to lay out a strategy that mostly involved you and your friend staying clear of what this area would become: a shootout gallery. You and your friend would follow along a specific outskirts line and attempt to pick off the other team from behind.

“Just watch out for Donald. He goes quackers sometimes; ditches his team if it means at least he can win, like a feral lone wolf.” Leo shrugged as if it couldn't be helped.

You shared a seething glance with your friend who seemed amused by your anger.

“What’s up?” Raph asked from where he was knelt down on one knee.

“I think…” You gave you friend one last heated look before turning to the red brother. “Donatello has it out for me.”

“Prey of the game.” Leo shook his head. “You're gonna need to be seriously careful.” Leo’s darkened look immediately disappeared into a carefree one. “Good luck!”

“Leo!” Raph scolded before turning back to you. “He is right though…”

“What did I do?” You gaped.

“Nothing!” Leo shrugged. “None of us know how he picks. He just decides someone’s going to be his first shot of the day. We’ve all be victims….” Leo trailed off and then reached for his sleeve. You watched as he rolled it up revealing a slicing scar across his green bicep. “I almost lost my arm when I was picked once…”

You and your friend paled.

“He did not!” Raph popped to his feet. “He got that from….!” Raph trailed off nervously.

“Occupational hazard!” Leo winked at you both before turning to frown at his sibling. “Let me have a little fun, big guy!”

“You’re scaring them!” Raph gestured to you and your friend. “They’re our team today!”

“Yeah, yeah, responsibility, blah, blah! We got this!” Leo took a sturdy step forward and a deep breath. “HEY SO ARE WE PLAYING OR ARE WE SITT-?” He stopped dead in his tracks and began to incrementally tip backwards.

“L-Leo!?” Raph moved so quickly in comoarison to his size that you almost weren’t sure he’d moved at all.

Leo dramatically crumpled into Raph’s waiting arms and in doing so you got a glimpse of him. There was nasty red welt already forming right between his eyes.

“What the…?” You trailed off in horror and looked out to where it had come from.

“WHAT DID WE JUST SAY ABOUT HEADSHOTS!?” Raph roared across the forest.

You watched as Mikey and your friend’s sister appeared from behind a tree.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t- I mean- That wasn’t-!!!” Mikey babbled, clearly distraught.

“Avenge me…” Leo feigned a dying cough.

“NEWBIE HERE SNIPED A HEADSHOT ON HIS FIRST TRY, YOU LOSERS ARE GOING DOWN!” Your friend’s sister clapped the orange brother on the shoulder affectionately.

“I’m really sorry, Leo!” Though you couldn’t be sure from this distance, Mikey sounded as though he were near tears.

“No apologies!” Your friend’s sister scolded, pulling Mikey out of view. “THREE MINUTE HEADSTART FOR POSITIONS AND THE GAME COMMENCES!” Her voice was so loud it seemed to emanate from all the trees. “COUNT DOWN, T-MINUS 20 SECONDS!”

Leo reanimated and took a knee. “Stick to the plan, stay out of sight.”

You and your friend nodded dumbly.

“That means go, now!” He ushered with his hands.

“We’ll keep you safe!” Raph called out as you and your friend took off into the brush.

Your friend already had their phone out and you caught a glimpse of the 20 second timer running out. They set a three minute one in its place. At first, you both ran as fast as you could, but as time ticked away, you slowed. You became painfully away of how each step crunched on woodland debris. You pointed this out to your friend. They suggested careful steps, so you dropped down low and continued to follow an approximation of the plan. Woth your friend leading, you tried to keep the mental map in mind, but the forest was nothing more than a cluster of trees. You had little indication of how close or far you’d traveled away from the action. The timer ran out and the humidity compounded with the sudden gravity of the game you were partaking in.

Sweat gathered at your brow and there was the distinct sound of shots being fired in the distance. With each pellet burst, the two of you adjusted your trajectory and did your best to aim for rounding the action. With each change in your position, every leaf crushed underfoot felt like a scream giving away your position. Your heart raced as the rifle's firing drew close. You and your friend hunkered down and you covered your mouth as even your breathing seemed too loud.

“Two little rabbits, sitting in a bush.” Your friend’s sister’s voice sang out from your right.

“Run.” Your friend said simply and the syllable held so much more than that. You both took off in the opposite direction and heard the soft ticks of pellets pricking each tree your passed.

Your friend yelped.

You turned so quickly that the dry dirt underfoot gave away. It caused you to slide several feet until you were essentially laying down in some underbrush. Looking back, you realized your momentum had carried you quite a distance from your friend who had seemingly tripped. You covered your mouth and watched as their sister stalked up behind them.

“You were always so clumsy.” The woman sneered and aimed a handgun at her sibling. She fired a single shot into your friend's back and then snapped her gaze up to look for you.

Resisting the urge to move, you hoped your cover was enough. She scanned for several seconds longer until she heard a twig break to her right. Zoned in, she pivoted and raced off in that direction. Letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, you watched as your friend lazily sat up.

“Hurry up, get out of here, and be careful. I really don’t think you get what they’re capable of.”

“What about you?” You whispered, shimmying out from under the brush.

“I’m dead. I’m gonna walk with my hands raised, hope no one shoots me again, and head to the graveyard.” They stood and brought their arms up as described.

“There’s a graveyard?”

“You always were shit at paying attention.” Your friend shook their head. “It’s back near where we met up. Just look for this poor lost soul.” Your friend gave you parting smile before heading off in the same direction their sister had gone.

Now alone, you swallowed hard. You were the last line of the back-up defense. Steadying your nerves, you brought your rifle close and readied it. You then proceeded to continue along the path you and your friend had been charting. You slowed and tried to listen past your ever thudding heartbeat. The trees rustled, a lone bird sang, and there was some errant skittering somewhere a ways off. Waiting longer still, you finally heard the distant exchange of fire. It sounded so far away that you frowned. Either the battle had moved or you had headed in the complete wrong direction. Scowling, you dropped from your readied stance and followed along a raised edge of dirt hoping it would lead you back.

Your gun now lazily in hand, you scanned for those telltale bandanas. Against the natural forest colors they should have stuck out vibrantly. You made it a few more feet when you heard a distinct snap. You instantly crouched down and scanned wildly for the sound. It hadn’t seem to come from any particular direction and there appeared to be no follow-up. Confused, you studied the ground underfoot to see if maybe you had accidentally stepped on something. In doing so, you caught a glimpse of a pile of dried leaves surrounding the base of tree just off the edge of your minute cliff. You squinted at it and in return it seemed to quiver. Stiffening, you stared and wondered what kind of forest creature you had disturbed. The leaves slowly parted and you watched in ever horrifying slow motion as purple emerged from beneath them.

“Hey.” Donatello said simply, the tip of his gun rising in time with his voice.

You had been so sure it was an animal that you hadn’t even bothered to ready your gun. With a final downward push, your body shot up as you attempted to escape. You heard the firing of his gun before you felt the biting sting of its pellets. When the pain did settle in, it rippled from your knees straight up your body to your shoulder.

You shrieked. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this badly.

“I'll give you marks for finding me, but your still in the negative because one should never drop their guard when at war.” He said simply.

“What is wrong with you!?” You hissed, clutching your side.

“Wrong with me? You’re the one that’s dead.” His voice sounded amused and you watched him disappear back under the leaf bed he created.

With nothing left to do, you slung your rifle around to your back and brought your hands up. You continued along the raised path and it did indeed bring you back to the small clearing. Your friend, their sister, and Leo all sat in a pouty group around an extra large tree.

“Ah, dangit!” Leo grouched as soon as he saw you.

“What happened to your duel?” You asked, wincing as you sat down.

Your friend watched you with squinted curiosity, but was otherwise quiet. When no one else answered, they shook their head and stepped in. “They shot each other out almost immediately.”

“I shot first!”

“Did not!”

“They were here before me.” Your friend rolled their eyes. “They’ve been arguing like this the whole time.”

You started to laugh and stopped as pain radiating from your side.

“Are you ok?”

“Donatello was freaking buried underground and shot me point blank.” You nearly spit the explanation.

“Brutal.” Your friend’s sister shrugged.

“These games bring out the worst in him.” Leo sighed. “Raph and I were thinking of training Mike to sub him out.”

“Even point blank, it shouldn’t hurt that badly though…” Your friend reached out and grabbed the hem of your shirt.

You shifted your arm to give them better access.

They lifted the fabric and revealed the already purple peppering of bruises across your side.

“That asshole.” Your friend’s sister uncharacteristically frowned.

“What?” You wondered, unable to see.

Leo crawled on all fours to get a better look. “Damnit, Donnie." He then sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. "I am so sorry.”

“What?!” You pressed, looking between them.

Your friend let go of your shirt.

“He’s using 0.4g BBs.” Leo' s voice was heavy with guilt.

“Are those…?” You looked to your friend.

“We’re supposed to be using 0.2 to 0.28.” Their sister clarified. “From the looks of that, his aren’t hollow like they should be either.”

“Are you serious?” You jolted in anger and immediately the pain protested.

Before the conversation could continue, Mikey and the ancillary friend emerged from the forest with their hands raised up.

“Only Raph and Donnie are left.” Leo breathed and stood up to look out across the trees.

The new corpses drew close and took their seats around the trunk. You were about to welcome them when noticed an angry red mark on your ancillary friend’s forehead.

“Come on, kid, don’t tell me?!” Your friend’s sister noticed it as well.

“I’m not doing it on purpose!” Mikey yelped. Now that he was close you could tell he was definitely crying.

“A dead person can’t shoot you out!” The sister hissed.

“I took the shot and I’ll take it again.” The ancillary friend noted.

“And I deserved retribution from the afterlife.” Mikey hiccupped.

“Uh huh, you’ll get them next time, Mikey.” Leo reached back and absently patted Mikey’s head with his attention still on the forest.

“I sure hope not!” The younger sibling whined.

Big thudding foot falls echoed and everyone went dead silent. There was a distinct sound of two different gun models firing before silence resumed. The group scanned the forest with bated breath. It seemed as if even the wind had quieted for the reveal. The red and purple bandanas appeared and within a moment, the raised hands of the loser became apparent.

“Come on, Raph! No!!!” Leo cried out, dropping to his knees. “You were supposed to avenge me!!”

“Sorry, bro.” Raph shrugged, in a jovial mood regardless of his death.

“Leaving your largest target as your final player.” Donatello shook his head and approached the tree. “After all these years you'd think you'd at least try to give me a challenge.” He aimed a bored stare at Leo.

“Don’t give me that shit.” Leo growled, snapping to his feet. “Give me your gun.”

“No.” Donatello recoiled as if Leo’s statement were an assault to his person.

“Raph, hold him down. I’m serious.” Leo kept his gaze squarely on Donatello.

“What’s going on?” Mikey scrambled to his feet.

“Theatrics, I’m sure.” Donatello scoffed but froze when Raph’s hands took hold of his shoulders. “What are you doing!?”

Leo grabbed Donatello’s gun and after a short lived struggle, the blue brother pulled the rifle away and popped off the magazine. Slinging the strap through his arm, he then let Donatello’s gun dangle and followed the same procedure with his own rifle. He held up the noticeably different pellets up to Raph first. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“They’re non-lethal.” Donatello looked to the side with the pout of a child that had been caught.

Tightening his grip with one hand, Raph freed the other to poke at the BBs. “What are these things made of…?”

“They’re custom too!?” Leo seethed.

“Everything I use is custom! I made your weapons! You've never complained before.” Donnie spit back.

“You hurt someone…” Mikey breathed with realization. He then scanned the group and immediately noticed the resting wince in your eyes. “At least use it on us!” Mikey alit with fury. “They’re human! You can’t just shoot them like that!!”

Donatello bristled, though his posture gave away his wearing resolve. “It’s bruising at worse.”

“It fucking hurt!” You shouted, getting to your feet and in your anger you forgot the pain. “Not to mention your dick hiding spot!”

“Hiding spot?” Raph hovered over his brother menacingly.

“We’re taking five!” Leo shouted and began to storm off toward where you had earlier entered the clearing. The other brothers filled out after him like they were transporting a prisoner.

You didn’t feel a bit sorry for Donatello.

“Isn’t playing with them a hoot?” Your friend’s sister jabbed the ancillary friend in the ribs.

“Yeah, real blast.” You grumbled, resisting the urge to keep showing weakness by holding your wounds.

“Water?” You friend offered you a small bottle and you took it. You all sat in mostly silence and though the brothers had seemingly moved quite a ways away, their voices would sometimes raise up to where you could hear them yelling. As promised, they filed back in after what felt like five minutes with Leo once again leading.

You, having continued standing because bending the bruises hurt more, turned to face them.

Leo gave you a tight nod and stepped out of formation with Donatello as the next in line.

He strode right up to you. “After a boorish discussion I believe there's been a sort of err on my part.”

You searched his eyes and found their dull veneer unconvincing.

“I’ve switched to my backup rifle with the agreed upon rounds.”

You saw a flash of annoyance in his gaze.

“And, taking into account your lack of experience, I will be sticking to a more…” Donatello glanced back at his brothers who were all staunchly waiting with their arms folded. “…mediocre play style.”

You could tell he didn’t feel the tiniest bit bad. You wanted to throttle him. Alternatively, this was, however, the first time you’d been able up close to him. Your eyes flicked down and caught a glimpse of his rippled biceps from where his arms were crossed over his vest. Resisting the urge to linger, you swept you gaze around and tried to head back to his face, but got caught on several scars along the way. You had to remind yourself that you were mad. Blinking, you snapped your gaze to his to find him watching with a cocksure grin and an amusedly raised brow. No, you were undoubtedly mad.

“Are we playing again?” You maintained bitter eye contact, but directed the question out to the group.

“Are you ok to play?” Mikey’s voice wandered in from over Donatello’s broad shoulder.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You ground out. “I’m fine.”

You watched as the smugness in Donatello’s face receded to make room for a tide of impressed amusement.

It wasn’t quite how you’d hoped he would receive your declaration of war, but it was an acceptance nonetheless.

“Same teams.” That was an order.

“Hey…” Your friend’s sister brought a small protest that seemed to be quelled by someone near her.

“Do give me a challenge this time.” Donatello covered his mouth from a yawn and turned back to his brothers.

You weren’t just going to destroy him, you were going to slaughter him.

Eventually the proper teams reformed and everyone took note of your bloodthirsty aura. In a sportsmanlike trade, Donatello’s team departed down the small cliff and your team was left to plan in the small clearing.

There was a pregnant pause before you opened your mouth. “I know-”

“We’ll back you.” Leo interrupted, clapping a hand to both Raph’s and your friend’s shoulders.

“How did you know what I was going to say?” You frowned.

“I think we all saw the staring match.” You friend gave a thumbs up.

“Mikey’s in on it too and he’s going to try to convince the others on the DL. While Raph doesn’t usually approve of fixing games, I can make a special exception just this once. We all saw how his supposed apology went. That was bad even for a Donnie standard.” Raph chuckled.

“He needs to be taken down a notch.” Leo clicked his tongue. “We’ll take all the heat. You just need to get behind him. It’ll be tough, but if we can pull it off, Don’ll never know what hit him!”

“Shoot him.” You corrected, a wicked smile on your lips.

“Where were you first round?” Leo shook his head with amusement and broke apart from the huddle. "T-MINUS 20!?”

A yell of affirmation came back. You all gave each other a last determined nod before you broke off to the right. You left your rifle on your back and loaded your handgun as you wove through trees. Breaking it down, you were wholly unmatched. Not only were you playing a game for the first time against a seasoned pro, but, if his scars and muscles had anything to say about it, he was also quite adept in some kind of warfare. Your best bet was a single glaring weak spot you’d come to find in the short time you’d known Donatello: his smugness. With the trope of pride being a villain’s downfall, you were more than prepared to take advantage of it. Digging your right foot into the ground at an angle, you swiftly changed direction. The sheer adrenaline caused you to forget not only your pain, but any errant physical discomfort from the exertion. Dropping low, you skittered into some bushes and waited for the first signs of fire.

As the wind rustled an otherwise empty forest, you used the time to center yourself by focusing all your energy into the white hot rage in your chest. By the time the shots rang you, you had intensified the ball into radical fury. Popping up, you kept your handgun at the ready as you headed straight for the fire fight. Drawing near pellet pops, you dropped down and watched a heavy ammunition exchange. Between the different elevations, the battle had essentially become trench warfare. Your team had managed to pin down every other member of Donatello’s team, but the purple bastard himself. You relished the perfection. Breaking away, you kept to only unobscured forest floor having learning from your past mistakes. You slowed your movements to a snail’s pace and became hyper aware of even the slightest caress of the wind. It was in that trudging that you heard the whine of a bending branch.

Barely lifting your feet off the ground, you scooted closer to the noise until you spotted the telltale flicker of purple. Stilling, you watched as Donatello seemed to be manufacturing something with twigs. With no supplies other than the bits of wood themselves, you watched as he fashioned something and carefully laid it on the ground. Eye’s widening, you recognized the quarter sized kindling. They were little sound landmines that he could use to identify his opponent’s location even if he weren’t able to see them. Thinking back, it must have been the source if the sound that had triggered his leafy appearance. With its small size, you hadn’t even registered the pieces as something that could snap, but the way he constructed it allowed for a multi-level structure that amplified sound.

After sufficiently adjusting the object’s position. He took an extra moment to admire his work. There it was: pride’s downfall. You moved faster than you ever moved in your life. The force generated seemed to alter the wind’s gusts for a moment. When natural order resumed, you had your pistol pressed to the back of his head and he had his rifle half-turned to your position.

“Any last words?” You asked. It was cliché, but you were already pulling back on the trigger.

“Absolutely no-”

The dull click of the gun sounded and for a moment everything was still. Your eyes widened.

“After all that…” Donnie’s voice was dark.

You scrambled, clicking the trigger over and over. The warning about the handgun being faulty echoed in your mind.

“You brought a cheap piece of crap to kill me!?” He twisted around and fired his rifle just as your gun finally discharged. In near perfect sync, you shot him in the cheek and he shot you in the dead center of your chest.

You both stared at each other numbly.

“You could have shot my eye out!!” He suddenly roared, stalking forward.

You refused to take a single step back. “No, please! Should I be thanking you for shooting me in the chest finally!?”

“It’s minor bruising! You tattled on me like a child to my family!” His face was so close you were about to butt heads.

“You faked your apology like a toddler! Act like one, get treated like one!”

“You are INFRUIATING! You’ve had this INANE attitude since we first locked eyes!!”

“I’m sorry, heard of a first impression!? You mocked me in that EXACT MOMENT!!”

“HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF RIBBING?! WE'RE PARTAKING VIOLENT RECREATION!!! IT CALLS FOR RIVALRIES!!!”

What could you say to that? It was a perspective shifting sort of statement. You’d read the context wrong from the start. He may have been a cocky asshole, but he was there for the same kind of release as you. If you were in your right mind you would have remembered how lousy the weather was. Instead, that white hot ball of fury you’d nurtured had full control of your body.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

As soon as the phrase left your lips, his crashed into yours. His gun swung wildly out of the way as the momentum crushed your bodies together. You had no idea where your pistol even went as you forcefully gripped the back of his head. Coming back from its pendulum swing, his rifle jabbed into both of your sides and Donatello hand dug harshly into the back of your neck. He tipped you back to a spine aching degree as your lips moved in tandem. Coy brushes were out of the question as his tongue forced its way into your mouth. For a moment you could only meekly receive him, but your anger was nowhere near dissipating. You threw your momentum forward against his brick wall of a body and in doing so your teeth clicked together. Neither of you noticed in a fierce jockey for dominance. His larger size meant he could exude more force than you and, before you knew it, bark was biting into your back through your flimsy shirt. A sultry groaned echoed from you in response and you could feel the upturnings of his cocky smile against your cheeks.

Shifting your grip, you dug your nails into his shoulders and it was enough to make his hiss. It meant a relinquish of contact that you fully meant to take advantage of until his hand wrapped itself around your throat. He squeezed hard enough to prevent you from speaking, but not hard enough to cut off your air supply. Dazed you put all your residual rage into a scathing glare. His finger tips curled up around your cheeks forcing you to pucker. He gave you once last wicked grin before kissing you again with enough fervor to knock your head back against the tree he’d pinned you against. The war of tongues, teeth, and lips resumed as you manhandled each other for dominance. His legs shifted and pinned yours flat and you realized you were losing real estate you hadn’t even considered investing in. Scratching down the exposed portions of his arm you hooked an armband and ripped it straight off of his appendage. He responded by breaking contact with your lips and instantly latching onto your neck. Your voice betrayed you once again as his teeth sank in against your jugular; his hand having shifted to keep your head in place.

His thumb had drifted a little out of its intended path under his new conquest and, in turning away under the guise of giving him more access to your neck, you neared the digit. He hummed in appreciation right until the moment you popped his thumb into your mouth and bit down.

“I can’t leave that mouth of yours unoccupied for a second can I?” His voice was so thick you felt wrapped in it. Drunkenly, you mustered your own cocky grin, which he masked with his. The violence hadn’t dissipated, but it was twisting into something more. Tongues probed each other in an unrestrained tango. Hands ventured further south. You dug your nails into his thigh and elicited the first guttural groan from him. The power struggle and righteous fury were an electrifying combined aphrodisiac.

“DONNIE!? I’M LOOKING FOR THE DEAD BODY OF MY DEAR BROTHER!!” Leo’s voice rang out clearly amongst the trees.

You both snapped apart and watched, half-lidded, as a string of saliva connected the two of you in the wake of your make out session. He reached up and dispelled the cord with a swift chop. He gave you once last scathing once over before stepping away.

“OH, NARDO, COME HITHER. I HAVE NEWS FROM THE AFTERLIFE. I KNOW EXACTLY HOW YOU’LL DIE!!!” Donatello stormed away in search of the interloper. “BY MY HAND!!!”

Your body went slack against the tree and you slid down until you were sitting at its base. You blinked and for a moment felt an odd hollow before the sounds of the forest seemed to gently flood back into your ears. Picking up a scrap of black fabric, you turned it over curiously before letting it idly dangle in your fingers. Staring up, the canopy looked black against an overexposed white sky. For the first time all day, you thought maybe today hadn't been so bad after all.

A/N: A terrible game would be to guess how much of this is based on a real life Airsoft game I had 😂

#tactical donnie #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #cartoons #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

261 notes · View notes

adelaidedrubman · 3 months

Text

What if the strap could prematurely ejaculate? (Or, Jestiny gets knocked down a peg.) read on ao3.

notes: if i ever accidentally posted something good enough to trick you into following this account, i truly apologize. anyways here’s part two of the john/jestiny failstrap series. set hl&s adjacent and spiritual sequel to mine’s bigger. also new year’s eve themed, i meant to get it posted then but ironically didn’t finish in time. wordcount: 3.8k warnings: explicit sexual content, toxic relationships, emotional manipulation. (neg ’em and peg ’em, the jestiny rook method.) i feel like secondhand embarrassment and cringe dialogue is something of an implicit blanket warning for all my stuff, but. i feel the need to explicitly flag it in this one. that should tell you something. (please also see ao3 end notes or post tags for disclaimers.)

As with all holidays, Jestiny would ideally prefer to spend her New Year’s Eve outdoors.

She would gladly take her midnight kisses whilst guzzling craft beer and watching fish leap from the water over sipping champagne and watching pixelated footage of a ball dropping — if only the temperatures of December bleeding into January in Montana would agree with her preferences.

And sure, a sharp chisel and thick jacket could guarantee she would still be taking home her share of trout from a frozen solid pond. A good set of crampons strapped to her favorite hiking boots was all she needed to scale the highest mountain peaks, even covered in ice. A durable tent and well-insulated sleeping bag meant she could still feel wind-nipped cheeks warmed by the flames of a real campfire no matter the season, instead of settling for the store-bought logs currently crackling in the hearth behind her.

But even a rugged outdoorswoman the likes of Jestiny had to admit the blistering, unforgiving cold of Big Sky Country winter required some activities be strictly indoor-only until the first wildflowers of spring poked up from the hard, frozen earth.

And even with all the proper equipment packed, when it came to the activities that required removing clothing…

“God, I’ve needed this so fucking bad,” John whined against her jaw, pulling her along by the arm as his other hand impatiently finished her work of centering her strap-on properly in its harness. “I want you to fuck me all night long, right into the New Year. I want you to fuck me in every room of this house, until I can’t look anywhere without thinking of you.”

What Jessie didn’t have to admit — at least not out loud — was that the spacious yet cozy faux rustic interior of Seed Ranch, with its pervasive scent of leather, pine, and woodsmoke wafting from the fireplace; the vista of sprawling snow covered mountains offered up by its grand far-stretching windows; the lurking presence of hoards of taxidermy animals around every corner, made it the best substitute she could imagine for the thrill of fucking outdoors.

Yes, it was all blatantly, dreadfully fake — but fake was better than nothing.

“I want you to take me right here on my dining room table,” John continued to lustfully monologue to himself as his thighs hit the edge of the table on his path backward with Jessie in tow, turning from their embrace just long enough to sweep an arm along its length and knock all the stray clutter atop it to the floor. “Don’t hold back. Be rough enough to break it. Just give it to me and don’t stop.” He hopped atop the table to sit, then wrapped legs around Jestiny’s waist to pull her into place. “Then I want you to lay me down in front of the fireplace. Hold me close and take your time with me, give it to me slow until I’m fucking begging. Then drag me upstairs and bend me over the railing. Pound me until I can’t stand, until I cry. Then I want you to carry me into the model plane room and…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she shushed as she pushed him back to his elbows, popping the top off of the bottle of lube clenched in her fist. “I’ll fuck you on every tacky ass piece of furniture in this ugly fucking house.” She forced an extra grumble of irritation to hide the tremor of desire threatening to slip into her words from the sight of him laid back for her with legs spread, brow slick with sweat and the dew of melting snowflakes still clinging to his eyelashes. “I assume you want me to lube it up first, though…”

“Let me,” he cooed, grabbing the bottle from her just as it had begun to drip onto sleek silicone. “I want to do it…”

She shrugged in disinterested agreement, placing her hands behind her head and jutting her hips forward as he poured along the length, palm cradling its underside and sliding along to catch the excess.

“Fuck,” he cursed, biting down on his lip as he began to pump his hand faster along the attachment. “Already so fucking hard for me.”

She crinkled her nose and cocked her head to the side. “What the fuck are you talking about?” she questioned. “It’s a fucking dildo, John — it’s always hard.”

“It’s — It’s a turn of phrase,” he huffed, tightening his grip and jerking towards him so that she near-stumbled into him. “Are you not familiar with the concept of dirty talk? Not everything has to be so damn literal. Use some imagina —”

“And why the hell are you jerking it off?” she demanded, thrusting a hand against his collarbone. “You know I can’t feel that, right?”

“Well, I’ll try to be more realistic, then,” he snapped as he leaned forward and shoved a hand between her legs.

Fingers spring-loaded with lingering fury moved to roughly pull her harness to the side, barely stilling or softening their touch before sliding inside her. His other hand remained stubbornly wrapped around silicone to pump it at a now comically harsh pace, as if to prove just how aware he was there was no delicate flesh and blood to be concerned with suffering beneath his vice grip — beginning the spectacle with a rough shove forward of its base to press against her with a pressure that did incidentally send a rewarding flicker of pleasure through hungry nerve endings.

“Fuck,” he ground out in repetitive correction, his tone wilting midway from a sarcastic hiss to a reverent whimper as he curled his fingers. “Already so fucking wet for me.”

Well, it wasn’t her fault he looked so good flushed and panting, even through the ridiculous theatrics.

“Like you got room to fuckin’ talk,” she scoffed as she reached to quickly coat her fingers with lube, sliding inside him and finding right where they needed to be with a practiced ease that made her cheeks warm with satisfied pride at her own expertise. Her thumb traced a line up his cock to find and leisurely smear the precum dewing at his tip. “Fuckin’ dripping the second I get my fingers in you.”

The surrender in his next whimper was complete, paired with a bucking of his hips to beg for more as he mirrored her steady pumping in the pace of his own fingers, thumb tucking itself beneath her harness to find and stroke her clit properly — all while still uselessly jerking off the dildo resting atop it, of course.

Well. Maybe it was useless, but she had to admit — privately — his hands did look nice doing that.

Even if the curve of his spine restyled itself into a distinctly unnatural, exaggerated arch as he regrettably regained the faculty for words. “God, yes, do you — ah, do you like how it feels inside me?”

Another stupid question. Reaching past the contrived, polished exterior to find the depths at which he was all warm silk fluttering to the touch? Delving inside him to feel the promise of all the power to reduce him to a stuttering, pleading mess pulse beneath a single fingertip?

How could she not be positively intoxicated by it? How could the rush of adrenaline it stirred be contained to anything less than electricity prickling along every inch of skin until the air itself felt charged with the intensity of her desire?

“It feels like an asshole, John,” she deadpanned, dragging her finger to tease shallowly. “Felt one, you’ve pretty much felt them all — and until science finds a way to implant a g-spot in the human finger, I’ll be getting just as little out of it every time.”

She gave a swift upward thrust for one last prod of his prostate in punctuation before she slipped fingers out entirely in the same fluid motion of her shoulders shrugging. “I’m more interested in finally getting to fuck you so good you can’t even talk to ask dumbass questions like that.”

She used the hand sticky with lube to smear a last glob onto the head of her strap as the other cradled his face, smoothing a thumb over his pouting lip as she added, “Just as soon as you ask nice.”

His pout deepened. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb now, baby. You know the drill.” She pushed him to lay with back flat on the table. “Beg me for it.”

“No,” he said testily, lifting his chin to give her a look of pure defiance. “You beg me.”

Her breath caught, for a moment — as if his words sank to snag in her chest before her mind even processed them, lunging back up as sharp barks of laughter the moment it did.

“Alright,” she sighed, breathless, as she dropped her head to rest against his collarbone and reached down to line up her attachment. “That was funny enough I’ll let you get by without the begging, this time.”

Her hips barely canted a single centimeter forward before they were stopped by a rough fist grabbing at the base of her dildo to hold her in place.

“It wasn’t a joke,” John hissed, eyes icing cold with determination, like a pond freezing over. “You’re going to beg to fuck me, or you won’t fuck me at all.”

She allowed her confused blinks to pick up pace into a sarcastic batting of her eyelashes paired with a sweet, dimple framed smile. “John, darling. My most cherished love. Light of my life, fire of my silicone sporting loins. Could you, kindly —” she scrunched her face into a scowl, “tell me what the fuck it is you’re talking about?”

“You’ve done nothing all night but mock and belittle me, and act as if you’re somehow begrudgingly doing me a favor,” he snapped. “Now you’re going to admit you want it as badly as I do,” he said, allowing his tone to melt and soften as he circled a finger around delicate, rosy skin. “If you want this, you have to beg for it.”

Oh, he was serious.

Heat flared in the pit of her stomach at how serious he was.

All the better. She loved a challenge.

“Now is not the fucking time to be a brat, John,” she growled, threading fingers in his hair and tugging in the way that pulled a needy moan to the surface to tremble in his adam’s apple. “Now is the time to be a good boy and spread your legs.”

“Oh, and I will,” he moaned, craning his neck so the pull of his hair was tautened — a dare, a meet and raise of a bet. “I’ll be so good for you, as soon as I hear that magic word.”

This time, the hand around her strap stayed still as he reached down to wrap one around his own cock.

“Say ‘please’ for me, Jessie,” John begged with wide eyes as he began to stroke himself. “I’m already so close — don’t make me cum from touching myself alone. I want you to fuck it from me. I need your strap.”

That bastard. But two could play that game.

“Are you begging me to beg you?” she scoffed as she began rolling her hips in steady rhythm, the tip of her strap just barely bumping against him as she fucked the grip of his hand in a promise of what she could do. “Why would I beg for something I won’t even feel?”

“Because you want to take me, don’t you, Jessie? Don’t you want this ass to be yours?” Fuck, he did not play fair — spreading his legs wider and pushing forward to rub the head against slickened, puckered skin, make it look so easy to slide home and fuck the attitude out of him. The sight alone made the friction of grinding against a held still strap-on swell to an unexpected thrum of ecstasy trickling through her veins. “God, I want it. I want to feel the way you move inside me. I want to belong to you, every part of me. I want to cum for you, only for my Jessie.”

Christ, when did the cheesy, unnatural porn lines start working on her?

“Must not want it t-too bad,” she grunted with a particularly harsh snap of her hips. The electricity in the air had heavied, absolutely saturated it. It fizzled with that strange feeling of being up high during a thunderstorm, everything so strongly charged that hair stood on end. “Since you won’t just let me —”

“Oh, I will, Jessie,” he panted, training his eyes on her impotent thrusts as he stroked himself faster. “I’ll let you do anything you want, as soon as you’re ready to —”

“Just —” She glared, thrust harder as if she could break right through his grip and end the standoff, only managing to increase pressure. “Move your fucking hand, and I’ll —”

“You’ll what?” he teased, squeezing the thighs wrapped around her waist. “Please tell me, won’t you? At least talk me off the way I like, since you’re not going to —”

“You’re not going to get off at all, until I —” Fuck, how was this happening? How could she feel every fiber of authority she possessed suddenly unraveling to slip from her fingers? “Say you’re fucking allowed —”

“I’m so close,” he gasped, tossing his head back and arching towards her — the tip of her strap just barely disappearing as he did. “But feel so empty. Oh, Jessie, won’t you —”

“Can you just —” Her cheeks were scalding as she fumbled to grab his hips and grumbled, “For the — the fucking love of god, could you please just —”

She found herself falling forward before she’d even realized the damned word had fallen from her lips, his hand pulling away the second it was spoken and his legs flexing to pull her in, sliding inside him as her knees smacked against the table.

And every volt of electricity hanging overhead came suddenly crashing down with her as she buried to the hilt as the coaxing of his eager rocking hips — as if lightning finally crackled through the air to ripple down her spine and spread through her body. Spread so forcefully she could taste it in her mouth, feel it tingle along her tongue and shoot down her jaw as the current seemed to hone on the place the base of the strap pressed just right against her clit — suddenly overloading from the sensation, short-circuiting into blissful oblivion.

And it felt as if she really had been struck by lightning — the way her flesh crawled with searing heat, the way her insides turned and convulsed, the way every muscle twitched and trembled in pure surrender to its force.

“Did you, um —” he shifted beneath her, pausing and clearing his throat as if for once in his life he realized what a ridiculous thing he was about to say and managed to think twice before saying it, “did you finish?”

“Did I —” she coughed weakly against his collarbone, wishing it had come out closer to a scoff than it did. “I’m genuinely fuckin’ curious — do you even bother to try to make the shit that comes out of your mouth make sense? Or do you just start flapping your jaws and see what happens?”

She did not wait for an answer before summoning her remaining wisps of strength to wind her hips back, forcing wobbly legs pleading to collapse beneath her to instead power a proper thrust forward.

She yelped, a jolt of pain shooting up through sensitive, overstimulated nerves as the base of the strap pressed against her clit at the full extension of her stroke.

John craned his neck, eyes scanning far too knowingly along the flush of pink sprawling along her cheeks and chest. “We can stop, if it’s —”

“I’m fuckin’ fine!” she barked. “I just —” She coughed, reaching down to slip a thumb beneath rubber ring and wedge under the dildo to put space between its base and her sore clit. “Gotta adjust a bit — you put this thing in at the wrong fuckin’ angle, fucked everything up.” She wriggled her hips back with a final grumble of, “Why you should never trust a man to do a woman’s job.”

She began rocking forward with hand still in place to lighten pressure against nerves pleading for rest — she could do this, she just needed to fake it through a few minutes of recovery period. She just needed to —

“Shit!” she cursed, jittery thumb pressing too hard against the base to push it free from the ring with a taunting pop, staying lodged stubbornly inside her lover as she reeled back. She lurched forward, hurrying to retake her place, looking down to gauge position and hopefully reattach herself before he noticed. “Goddamn…”

“Seriously, are you alright?” John questioned as he pushed himself up to his elbows. “Would you like ten minutes and a glass of orange —”

He was interrupted by a thud as he rose to sit fully upright and meet her face to face, Jestiny’s eyes barely catching to follow the shiny black blur that shot from between his legs to land heavy at her feet.

“Fuck.”

Her clumsy rush (since when was she clumsy? first saying ‘please’ and now this?) to turn and reach for the fallen dildo (was her sleight of hand good enough to reattach it without him noticing? what skills did she still have?) resulted in her kicking it with the heft of her combat boot (was it not a good idea to wear them during sex? who even was she?) before she’d even managed to bend down.

She whipped around, finding hardwood bare save for a slight glistening streak. When she lifted her head to follow the snail trail of lube, she found the strap-on had rolled itself across the greater length of floor — losing little momentum as wood broke into granite.

The slight rise of the granite platform barely impeded it at all, in fact, as it rolled right past the wrought-iron guard that had been haphazardly left ajar by Jestiny as she built the fire, tenderly welcomed into the roaring inferno of the fireplace.

The dead lump of a scream in her throat seemed to creep down to spread its decay, making her insides shrivel into brittle rot. As the stench of burning plastic filled the air, her eyes began to water from the sting of chemical smoke. She wondered if she might actually cry for the first time in her adult life.

“Wha — ! Aah,” A confused, devastated noise caught in the back of Jestiny’s throat, withering there to die at the first crackle of silicone as her prized strap-on went up in flames before her eyes.

The world swirled around her, buffeting at her senses like the cruelest of snowstorms.

Past the whistle and crackle of flame devouring silicone and the whoosh of her own pulse in her ears, Jestiny heard the muffled garble of a television set she hadn’t realized was on blare suddenly loud from the recesses of the ranch, cheers of ‘Happy New Year!‘ over discordant symphony of paper horns blown in celebration conjuring images of ceremonial ball reaching the denouement of its annual journey to the base of its pole into her mind unbidden.

On cue, somewhere in the background, a grandfather clock solemnly chimed to announce the turn of the hour.

And there stood teary-eyed, gaping mouthed Jestiny — some bizarre sex toy Cinderella whose impressive phallus turned back into a puddle of cheap plastic polymer at the stroke of midnight.

“Well,” John’s bemused hum pierced through the cacophony rattling around inside Jessie’s brain as he peered past her to the spectacle of silicone bubbling down to black ooze in his fireplace. “I guess it isn’t always hard.”

“Fuck!” Her shout crumpled back into a weak whimper as plain splintered through her knuckles before she even realized she’d swung to strike the table.

She kept fist loosely clenched and eyes glued to the grain of the table as John turned back towards her.

She caught in her periphery the falling of his sly smile. His brow pinched inward as he looked back and forth between Jessie’s flushed, scrunched face and the empty rubber ring at the front of her crotch, his eyes softening with the most genuine look of sympathy she thought she’d ever seen him wear, a level of earnest compassion she would have thought him incapable of even faking properly.

The kind of condescending pity that made her stomach curdle, made her blood boil hot as a melting strap-on. That she would normally lash out to reject, were she not already so thoroughly defeated and stripped of pride.

“It’s alright,” John whispered softly, reaching over to give a few comforting pats to Jessie’s curled fist before bringing his hand up to cup her jaw and lift her chin, guiding her to look into gentle blue eyes. “It happens to everyone, sometimes.”

“That —” she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in gesture to the strap-on cremation still blazing strong behind her, drawing in a ragged breath, “has literally never happened to anyone before.”

“Well, it was... innovative,” John innovated the world’s first performatively horny purr that doubled as bland diplomacy to reply in, throwing his arms around her neck in embrace.

“We —” Her voice sounded so uncharacteristically small to her own ears as she stumbled over her words. “We can do other stuff. I can still finish you —”

“That’s alright. It was enough just to feel close to you,” John shushed, nuzzling against her neck. “All I want now is for you to carry me to the fireside and hold me.”

God, it was such obvious, manipulative fawning; such a poorly disguised consolation prize. She should storm out in offense.

In no position to refuse consolation prizes, Jessie slid an arm beneath the bend of his knees, wrapping the other around his middle. She gave a slight grunt as she hoisted his weight, at this point truly just grateful she managed not to drop him on the short walk over to the bearskin rug she lowered him to sprawl atop.

“You —” The impulse to counter with a comment that the firelight made him look much older from the shadows cast into the creases of his face extinguished itself as quickly as it sparked. “You would look even prettier by the light of a real campfire,” she muttered as she fell limp, allowing John to tangle their limbs as he saw fit. “That’s what we should do next New Year’s Eve. I hate being cooped up inside.”

“You always look so beautiful, bathed in firelight,” John sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“And do you envision our rugged adventures would begin with a first-class flight to the southern hemisphere?” he asked with a soft laugh, a hand smoothing along her sides. “I don’t have your outdoorsy expertise, of course, but I’d say it’s hardly pleasant camping weather around here.”

“It’s not so bad, actually,” she sighed pleasantly. “Pitching a tent in the dead of winter,” she continued, absentmindedly threading fingers through his hair. “So long as you —”

She coughed, clearing her throat and hiding her face and its burning cheeks against his chest as she finished the statement. “So long as you have the right equipment.”

She definitely should have just gone fishing.

#nsft #otp: stop bothering these nice folks #oc: deputy jestiny ellen #writies and wordies #hey at least i did manage to post it before january ended. still kinda the new year #i think maybe. they are good for each other #plot twist: SHE gets brat tamed. mostly by her own hubris but still. john dom moments they said i couldn’t do it.#also: jenna would reprimand me if i did not mention pure silicone will not melt like that.#assume jestiny is wearing a cheap blend regardless of how she refers to it #i also took some liberties with ranchsion redesign for this #in the actual game the platform of the hearth is raised and the guard does not have doors so this could not have happened #these are the only unrealistic parts of the fic.

23 notes · View notes

flowerpotmage · 1 year

Text

Winter Morning Kisses

Summary: It is morning in Coccham, and the snow outside leaves everything touched by its chill.

Notes: From number 11 on this prompt list. Contains sleepy kisses, cuddling, and being cold as fuck. Fluff! Gender neutral and entirely undescribed reader. Unbeta'd and unedited. Less than 500 words

Read on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider giving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

It is winter in Coccham. Outside, the snow lays thinly on the barren ground, more frost than powder, and the crust of it crunches underfoot. Or, rather, it will once the people of Coccham rise to begin the day - stoking their fires that had faded low in the hearth overnight, and finding whatever hot food they can to warm their bellies.

As of now, only the true early risers are up. The star of which is, of course, the crow of the rooster that now sounds through the icy air that finds its way into the room in which you have spent the night.

The body beside you groans, the sound of frustrated complaint from a man who wishes only to linger in the embrace of sleep. You can picture him now, your own eyes still closed, and you know his brows are furrowed in mild displeasure at the rooster's crow.

The bedding, layers of blankets and furs, shift as he moves which lets a small touch of colder air into the bed.

“Osferth,” you grumble, reaching blindly to pull him towards you for his warmth. “‘s cold.”

“‘S early,” comes his quiet grousing. Your hand makes contact and he shuffles closer to you, until the two of you are pressed together, and the bedding is pulled over the both of you once more.

“Mnn,” is your noncommittal hum, worming your face into his chest and his neck as his arms pull you closer. He kisses the top of your head, and you respond by kissing the plane of his chest through the layers of fabric.

Osferth wiggles lower under the covers with you, kissing clumsily over your eye, and you respond by lifting your head, lips searching for his with eyes shut.

Ah, that’s his chin, you note to yourself.

Another kiss from him lands on your cheek, lower and near your mouth, the cold tip of his nose pressed into your own chilled face.

Your next attempt lands on the corner of his mouth, and the next finally lands home. Lips touch, and both of your tired bodies relax into it, satisfied sighs of air brushing across faces as you sigh happily through your noses. The kiss ends and once more your face burrows into his chest.

“I should stoke the fire,” you mumble. “So we don’t freeze further and leave two corpses for Finan to find when he comes to bother us at breakfast.”

He mumbles something unintelligible in return, but reluctantly lets you slide from the bed. You busy about adding logs to the embers, coaxing flames out once more, and swiftly return to bed where a sleepy Osferth bundles you back into his arms.

#osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth x gn!reader #x reader #tlk x reader

277 notes · View notes

burninlovebutler · 10 months

Text

31 - Mr. Percocet // Forever Winter Series

pairing: austin butler x fem!oc(s) // word count: 3k

summary: austin's addiction becomes too much for aspen to handle on her own. when austin disappears, aspen realizes she needs help from someone who knows him better than even himself.

warnings/notes: drug use, addiction, shitty/angry austin, auditory hallucinations, 18+

see masterlist for chapter log + all other fics💫 | ao3

vibes -> fw playlist❄️

I barely recognize you when you wake up in the morning Must be someone else's eyes that I look into every night

You're only kind when you're all fucked up You're only mine till your high is gone

But I wish you'd still love me when your drugs wear off in the morning

-ASPEN-

Nox finally left and we were stocked up on all of our party favors. I didn’t expect for Austin to put me on the spot like that, so I just chose the ones we’d been taking. I trailed a fingertip along the granite countertop then tapping it a couple times, “So… what’s this ‘deal’ you and Nox have going?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s none of your business.” Austin replied bluntly, filtering through the stash. I knitted my brows at his tone, then observing his stiff body language – sharp, broad shoulders and angular, clenched jawline. In the short amount of time I had known him, I’d never seen or heard him like that. His voice was usually soft, gentle.

“Okay…” I trailed off, “You feeling alright?”

His jaw somehow clenched even tighter than it was before, and his brows angled downward not even looking at me. “Yeah, I’m fucking fine.” He spat back and cracked open one of the new bottles of Percocets, pouring some into his hand and knocking them back with a swig of his water bottle.

I pressed my lips together into a straight line, “Got it.” I nodded, nervous to press any further. Of course, I’d had men talk to me like that many times before, but it wasn’t something I ever expected from him. Nox must’ve really gotten under his skin.

We went about our day as we had for the past couple weeks, getting high. The only difference was that he barely talked to me, he rarely even looked at me.

That went on for the next few weeks. I even went home a couple times from how unwanted I felt or how much we fought. Each time I was sure it would be the end of our little affair, but he’d always call me the next day and beg for me to come back. And I’d always return because well, he was fun, most of the time – when he was good, when we were high. He made me laugh harder than I thought possible and actually looked at me like a human. He didn’t look right through me like most people did, like most men did. He didn’t look at me like a sex object, he saw me for me. You really get to know someone when you’re on constant benders together and he never shied away from any of my demons, and I didn’t shy away from his.

We were good when we were good, under any other circumstances, in any other life, we’d be perfect for each other.

In another timeline, this would be love.

Then he’d flip like a dime, and I could barely recognize him. Especially in the mornings, god the mornings were the worst – before he got any substance in his body, when he was freshly sober. Or when we ran through our stashes.

Like yesterday when we ran out everything –

A pillow flew past my calf, but I dodged it with a swift hop over. He raked fingers through his overgrown dirty blonde hair, “I know you took them Aspen just fucking tell me.” He growled.

I shook my head, pulling my arms into myself while I watched him stalk towards me, “I didn’t Austin, you know I didn’t. I don’t even like them!” My voice coming out weaker than I would’ve liked.

“So, you’re saying I was the one who finished this whole bottle in 5 days?” Holding up the empty bottle with his brows slanted down emphasizing just how sharp and hollow his features had become.

“Fuck, no – yes, I am. It was you Austin! I didn’t touch them!” I pleaded, hating the way my voice wavered. I didn’t dare correct him on that it had only been 3 days since our last re-up.

His features softened the closer he got to me, but his eyes stayed just as terrifying, “C’mon baby, it’s okay if you took them. Just tell me.” His fingers trailed down the underside of my arms so gently, taking my hands into his. “Okay? It’s okay, I just need them ‘Pen, just tell me where you put them.” His voice so calm, like the eye of a hurricane. It was a serenity wrapped in rumbling rage, just one slip away from destruction.

A burning sensation pooled tears in my exhausted eyes, I swallowed the knot that formed in my throat. Sure, he was a little scary like this, but he never hurt me. It wasn’t the fear that that put tears in my eyes. It was the Austin I could sense below the surface, the one I caught glimpses of – sweet, compassionate, funny, thoughtful, intelligent Austin. And it was the inherent sadness that was laced between each low, the melancholy looming beneath every word. I’d never met someone who hid so much pain behind such a bright smile. I didn’t see it right away, but when I did, I couldn’t unsee it.

I took a deep breath before running my hands up his arms, softly squeezing his biceps and looking into his lackluster blues rimmed with dark purple under eye bags. “Aus it’s okay, I’ll call Nox, and he can bring some more okay?” I felt him tense under my fingertips, as if he was about to erupt again but slumped instead. He nodded defeatedly, “Okay.” Then made his way to his bedroom, falling into bed, pulling the thick duvet over his head to block out the sunlight.

The meetings with Nox became more and more frequent. I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was off like there was some key puzzle piece I was missing. It made me feel like I was 7 years old again, getting kicked out of an all-boys club. Only the secrets weren’t about the best playground hiding spots anymore. It was an itch I couldn’t scratch, a word I couldn’t remember. And the more I asked, the more I prodded the more access I was denied.

As I walked out of the bedroom, wrapped in an oversized towel and dripping wet hair, I could hear him talking to someone. Being my nosy self, I halted at the door to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Yeah, I know I need to work harder,” He spoke, “I’m really trying.” Then a pause, telling me that he was probably on the phone. “Yeah- Well- I-“ He kept getting interrupted by whoever was on the other side of the line. “Yes, I’m rehearsing the script every day.”

I couldn’t quite remember what job he was working on but it didn’t matter, whoever he was speaking with was being lied to. I was with him almost everyday and I’d never seen that man pick up anything but substances, nonetheless a script.

“Yeah I know, I know.” I could practically hear his eyes rolling, “I got it.” His responses now curt and filled with exhaustion, “Love you too Dad. Say hi to Mom for me. Okay, bye.”

A couple beats after he ended the call, I stepped from the doorway. “Who were ya talking to?”

“My dad, not that that’s any of your concern.” He answered annoyed, clearly in one of his moods.

I took a moment before speaking again, wondering if I should even say anything. Then a vague memory popped into my head, “Didn’t you tell me that-“ I stopped myself before continuing, nervous of how he’d react.

“Tell you what?” His words were sharp and quick, sounding on edge. Much different from his voice on the phone just a bit earlier.

“Nothing, nothing.” I hastily backtracked, I must’ve been too high when he talked to me about his dad. Maybe I was mistaking it for someone else. “I’m gonna get changed.”

He didn’t even acknowledge my statement, his focus on making coffee in the kitchen. I wondered what exactly I was doing there,

Once in fresh PJ’s, I plopped myself onto the edge of the bed Austin normally slept on, the right side. When I went to grab my hairbrush from the nightstand, I spotted something that sent a chill through my bones – his phone.

I replayed the events of the last 15 minutes, between his phone call, our conversation, and me changing in the room, there was no point in which he would’ve been able to come in and drop his phone off. I had been in there the whole time.

My next natural thought path was to mentally check how high I was, maybe it was just me not remembering things or misunderstanding them. But I had surprisingly not taken or smoked anything all day since we slept in so late. I was sober. Completely and utterly sober.

I picked up the oversized iPhone, held it in my hands, then set it down. Took it back, tapping to wake the glass screen, then placed it down again. I picked it up once more, flipping it around in my hands contemplating going through it like some jealous girlfriend.

On one hand, his privacy was important. But, on the other hand, I wasn’t a jealous girlfriend I was a concerned not-girlfriend. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. So, I decided to go against my instincts and unlock his phone – the code being predictable, what I had learned was Elsie’s birthday.

Like a good – faux – jealous girlfriend, I went directly to his texts, expecting to maybe find some texts to Elsie or his parents. But my brows curved at the wall of multiple conversations with unsaved numbers. When I heard some noise from past the bedroom door, I stilled quietly locking the phone and setting it down cautiously.

He never walked into the room and I stole the phone again and unlocked it, clicking on the most recent text thread to a random number.

“What?” I whispered as I scrolled through the one-sided gibberish-filled responses. Each message filled with sentences that made no sense or were flat out lies. Each reply to him read the same – ‘This number has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

“What the fuck?” I exited the thread then clicked another a couple lines down, this one even worse. Some of the words made no sense or were straight up not words, not a coherent sentence in sight. It must’ve been when we were actually really high. “This makes no fucking sense.” My scrolls increased in speed the higher in the thread I got. The color of the bubbles changed from blue to green after various ‘you’ve got the wrong number’ and ‘leave me the fuck alone’ text messages.

Taking my bottom lip between my teeth, I contemplated my options.

Stay silent and observe him.

Directly ask him about it.

Or… well that seemed like the only two.

But if there was something actually wrong, we needed to address it immediately. So, option two it was.

I stood up and walked anxiously to the door, then back again, shaking the nerves from my hands. I took a deep breath before opening the door and slowly coming out. I was prepared to confront him, chest puffed out and everything, but he was gone.

I briefly took a pace around the seemingly empty apartment when at the end of my lap I found the front door wide open. With each oddity I found, it built up a prickling fear in my body. The buzzing dread ran through my bone marrow like coolant, chilling every molecule in my carcass. I didn’t know what I was scared of or why – I had no idea what exactly I was dealing with – but it terrified me nonetheless.

I peeked my head out the open door turning it side to side like I was about to cross a road. He was nowhere to be found and now I had no idea where he was or if his brain was just as scrambled as the messages in his phone.

“Okay.” I said to myself while exhaling and turning around to the kitchen. “Okay Aspen, it’s fine you can handle this.” Talking myself through my pacing over the linoleum floor. I wanted to be this not-girlfriend and handle it myself, but it wasn’t realistic. I’d only known Austin for a couple months, and most of it we were high, I knew virtually nothing real about him.

But I knew who did.

I unlocked his phone and went to his favorites list, knowing the person I needed would be there.

And she was.

She was the only one on the list.

I let out a deep exhale knowing this wasn’t going to be fun and clicked her name. It rang and rang until it hit voicemail. “Augh!” I groaned impatiently, the time seemed to be thinning through some impending hourglass. I called again, this time going directly to voicemail. Again, voicemail, again, voicemail, back to back. “Fuck!”

Then in some stroke of genius I had the idea of calling her number from my phone – and it worked.

“Hello?” Answered a cautious voice from the other end.

“Hi.” I replied nervously, knowing that I was probably the last person she wanted to hear from.

“Aspen?”

“Yeah, um, I-“

“Listen, I don’t need some jealousy spiel-“ She began, rightfully thinking I’d be some ‘you can’t talk to your girl best friend’ girlfriend.

“It’s not that.” I interrupted urgently. “It’s Austin.” I stated quietly, nervously.

There was a pause, “What happened.”

I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding and her recognition was like someone lifted the plug in an overflowing bathtub. Salty water filled my eyes and a quiver took hold of my voice, “Something is wrong.” was all I could manage. “I think I need your help.”

Elsie took a breath, “What happened.” She repeated, sounding frustrated but mostly concerned.

“I-I don’t know – He just, he left and-and,” The tears now flowing and my voice noticeably cracking, “He was just acting strange, and I don’t know where he is Elsie.” I sobbed, “Please, I don’t know what to do.”

I heard a rustle on her end, it was 11 pm and she was probably in bed. “Okay, strange how? – I’m changing and I’ll be on my way.”

“Well, I got out of the shower and I overheard him talking to someone…” I trailed off, steadying my breathing.

“Okay, who Aspen? C’mon I’m gonna need you to get it together.” She snapped hurriedly. It was clear she was just as, if not more, rattled by the situation as I was.

“Well, I-I overheard him talking to his Dad but I could’ve sworn he told me-“

“Wait, wait his dad?” She interjected immediately, “Are you sure that’s what you heard? You heard him say Dad?” Her demeanor significantly more urgent than before.

“Yes-Yes, I heard him clear as day. He said, ‘I love you Dad, say hi to Mom for me’.” Trying to emphasize the validity of my concern.

“Fuck,” She sighed, the locking click of her door loud in the background. “Okay, um, meet me in the city, I think I know where he is.”

When I arrived to the location Elsie had dropped me, I stood in front of a random diner named Harry’s Diner. My arms were wrapped around my frail body freezing from the rain that was pouring down over me the entire way there. I stood under the awning looking for Elsie when I saw her through the diner window, already inside talking to a waitress. From her body language I could tell it wasn’t good news. She noticed me and made her way over, the door dinged a bell when she pushed it open.

“He’s not in there.” She sighed defeated, “The waitress said that he was, but he left.”

“Fuck,” I let out, “Why would he come here? It’s just a random restaurant-”

“It’s not.” She cut me off sternly. “It doesn’t matter, that’s not important right now.” Waving off the details, “He just always ends up here.”

“Okay.” I shivered not wanting to push further. “Well, where the fuck else would he be?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed, bringing a hand to run through her wavy locks. The stress in the air between us was practically tangible.

Suddenly, I heard some rustling from behind us. “Do you hear that?” I whispered.

Elsie perked out her ear silently searching for the noise I was hearing, “Yeah I do.” Then the noise began to sound like whimpering, sobbing. “I think it’s coming from the alley.” Nudging her shoulder in the direction of it.

I nodded a silent agreement to quietly and cautiously walk over to check. In New York at midnight, an odd noise could be anything. Once we peeked past the wall, it was Austin, drenched in freezing rain, curled around himself pacing back and forth. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Elsie squeeze her eyes shut like she was preparing for the worst. It was evidently that she’d seen this before, he’d been here before. They’ve been here before.

We stepped towards him careful not to spook him off. “Austin.” Elsie whispered softly, catching his attention.

He looked up apprehensively, like a scared alley cat. Once he recognized her, he immediately went to her.

He went to her.

There was no hesitation, no second thought as he landed into her, sobbing into her shoulder.

She held him tight, rubbing his back quickly to warm him up. He was only in a plain white t-shirt and some sweatpants, exactly what he was wearing at home. He was shivering, teeth chattering, and his soaked clothes stuck to him like glue. His skin was so cold and pale, he was nearly purple and blue.

There was pain in both their bodies, I could feel it. Almost like they were feeling the same hurt together.

I knew from the beginning that there was something between them, but until now I didn’t realize just how special it was. I called it from the beginning. I knew it the moment I saw the way she looked at him, the way he looked at her. If I could see it this vividly, why couldn’t they?

I told Austin from the start that I’m just the lesson girl, the fun girl, the one you date before you settle down with the ‘bring-home-to-mom girl’, and I was right. I was looking right at her.

Sorry this update is so late 😅 i hope you enjoyed this one 👀 i know the past couple chapters have been a lot of build up, so i'm very excited to enter this new era of this series, big things to come 💗 Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me through these many chapters, I appreciate your patience for my love for writing slow burn & plot development LOL

Thank you for every like, reblog or comment, it means the world to me truly. I love hearing your thoughts and I'm glad you're liking my little story 💗

Tag list: @cryingabtab @slowsweetlove @feverdreamcaoilainn @denised916 @julie181 @navsblog @michellelv @suspiciouselvis @presleysdarling @eddiesgorlie @ranaissingle @malachimochi @purejasmine @coloradohighs @fxckingfantasy @elvispedro @richardslady121 @leighpc

(if you'd like to be added pls comment 💗)

#austin butler fanfic #austin butler x oc #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x fem!oc #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler series #austin butler angst #austin butler sad #forever winter series #austin x elsie<3 #austin x aspen #Spotify

55 notes · View notes

linksthoughtbrambles · 2 months

Text

Serenne

Part 16 of Adventure Log+ (sequel to Link's Thought Brambles - much better to read in order, both also on ao3). Warning for strong language and violence. Trigger warning for intense fire. Disclaimer: The content of this chapter is fiction only, and is not intended to contain advice or instructions for surviving hazardous conditions involving fire.

Master-

Yes, yes-

“Off, off, off, off-”

“I got it, I got it-“ Fi?

I look upon your plan with trepidation.

"Hehehe" What else is new?

"What's funny?!"

"Sorry, Beraya, it's the sword." The last thing I need is Beraya thinking I find her shoulders funny, and yeah, Fi, I know-

The moisture is a double-edged sword.

"Kh- shh, Tass."

Zelda already made us swear not to run into the flames. It'll give us some extra time in the heat, act like sweat, and some of it will be gone from the wind before we even get there.

Unless something surprises you, master. Fire is unpredictable, and the heat capacity of water can be deceptive.

Look, Zelda thinks it's better this way. I'm going with it.

If steam becomes trapped against your skin-

It'll scald. YEAH. I know. There!

“Bloody mail- I needed a refit anyway.”

“You got it, Beraya—soon as we’re back.” Faster, Link, faster for $*#@’s sake!

“Shh, sh sh sh- Tass! Link- perhaps we- kh- oughtn’t ride any further.”

“It’s up to you-“ thereFINALLY- “arms through-“

“Kh.”

“-arms through.“

“Yes sir, I have the rest, I have it!”

“The horses should come back here when we dismount.” I hope.

“They may bolt with us still riding.”

Hope not hope not “They might.”

“NEXT BUCKET!”

“Huiru, Reida.” They better- good they’re listening not that I’d expect them to ride into fire without at least something, something SOMETHING to help, dear Hylia, and at least they already have face cloths, just have to douse them-

“P- princess! We- shouldn’t use these-“

-but it won’t last long-

“Sir Margil, I appreciate the sentiment-“

-not in all that heat.

“-but there are more important things than Link and I’s spare clothing.”

“It feels- like sacrilege.”

“Indeed not. Hylia would much prefer her symbol to keep you safe than for you to perish in the smoke. Think of it...“

To the well, Link, help Cohl, water water water “I got it-“

“...Think of it as a ward protecting you.”

“…Yes, Princess.”

“I got that, Margil.”

“Thanks, Aree.”

“I can’t believe I’m wearing something you sewed with your own hands, Princess.”

“I admit kh- when I fashioned Link’s tunics, I had no expectation of their being used as facemasks. Ah- but please, don’t fret, Sir Liff khm-khm.”

Zelda’s susceptible. She coughed a lot at Miss Morsels’ too. Not that I think that stench was as nasty as smoke. “Princess- I again recommend-“

“That I remain with Sirs Bennent and Lahs, and I again decline, Link.”

Amazing she can smile at me in all this, I don’t think I have it in me. “I figured.” Nope- smile failure. “I had to ask. Beraya, your turn!”

“Yes, sir.”

Sitting, good, she’s taller than me.

“Ah!”

“More, Cohl.”

“Coming, Sir Link!” “I’m done, I can help.”

“Thanks, Daile.”

“Get the horses, too.”

“D- damn. Yeah.”

It feels like hours but it’s been minutes, only minutes, how many people are dying while we do this?

Lucky there’s no malice here, unlucky no surface water, only a deep well but the people ran and that’s good, good, stalls empty, no horses, no walking corpses, no corpses at all, no-

“Link?”

“All good.” Stop brooding, Link, you’re not helping anyone, more water- “You’re next, Princess.”

“Khh.”

“I’m done!”

Varniro “Good, help with the horses.”

“Yes sir!”

Here I go dunking my last tunic in water it’s for her for her I don’t know why I feel this matters but I do. “Okay, Z- hold this- get ready.”

"Not the socks."

"Heh. No, not the socks." I don't want to know what boiling water feels like in my boots, either.

Face crinkled, I always like that face on her. “Look up- yeah.” Hair wet, get every fricking inch of her clothing, careful, just barely wet the bandage outside only outside only. Wet bandages bad news…

“You good, Cohl?”

“I got some slopped on me pulling it up so fast. Top’s not there yet.”

“I got you.”

Liff and Cohl look out for each other. Good.

“I believe that’s sufficient, Link.”

“I want you soaked.” …Oh s$&%, Link.

Keep pouring the water, keep pouring it, clearly no one gives a crap or possibly even noticed your ridiculous slip.

…Except Zelda. A single-eyebrow raise. She’ll tease me later. I hope. Later. Hope for that.

“I’m good!”

“Me too, Sir.”

“Alright, almost there- get the horses as best you can. Manes and tails especially, but we won’t take them all the way in. They’ll run after that. Lahs- Bennent- I’m serious. You see something headed your way that’s not us, you retreat immediately and at full speed. Make for the logging village if you can- get word to the castle faster. If something cuts you off, head to the Royal Lab. Got it?

“Got it, sir.” “Yes, sir.”

Link. Look them in the eye. “If not…“

“We’ll bring his body back, sir.”

“…Yes. Thanks. Oereb’s family will thank you, too.”

Zelda’s face. Wish I could hold her now.

Oh. My turn. Just nod, let Margil get you.

“Kh-kh.”

Feels good. Not clean exactly. But maybe a little less disgusting than I was.

“Your bandage, Sir.”

“Yeah.” Hand over it should be good enough. Pat some water… just on the outside.

“Alright…”

Less good now with the water in my pants. That’s going to chafe. Priorities priorities priorities.

Good to have my eyes closed. Just for… a minute.

“Eh- hey, Reida, could you help me with this?”

“Ah- ah. Yes, alright.”

…Snobbish.

“… Uh. Thanks.”

That’s how they seem to me, but maybe I’m biased, they answer to other Sheikah, not to me, Zelda, too, ideally, but they seem not to take her orders seriously in combat like they think they know better and maybe they’re right but I don’t think so, I think they f$(#ed up with those riders, Zelda, Zelda was right, they should’ve broken off, let her fire.

Maybe I’ll talk to herOH more pants water- later. About them. See if she agrees. “Think I’m good. Thanks, Margil.”

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

Pretty sure Zuho would’ve jumped to help us prep, not stood around being watchful with his nose up in the air, he’s not like them. She’s surrounded by us, this is not the time to stand still, this is the time for speed, speed, oh. Facecloth. “Thanks again.”

And the buckets have stopped. “Ready?”

“Yes Sir!” “Yes.” “Ready.” “Ready, Sir!”

Nods, nods. “Princess?”

“…Mount. We ride-“

Horse horse

“-as close as the horses will allow.”

Good boy- sorry.

“We go the rest of the way on foot- at a run.”

About your rider.

“We enter Serenne if at all possible.”

So, so sorry.

“We slay any monsters.”

I wonder... if you understand.

“If our kh- enemy is the fire itself, we shall help them fight it.”

It hasn’t hit me yet.

“If the blaze is too fierce, we shall evacuate all we can instead.”

But when it does-

“We remain together unless Link or I order otherwise-"

-it’ll be like always.

“-and we avoid extreme heat, smoke, and flame. Onward!”

I’ll have another hole inside. “Everyone ride astride each other. Hup, boy!”

“Go, Tass!” “Hyah!” “Hyup-“ “Hhh.”

A hole where the first person died under my command.

Zelda. Beside me.

I don’t want her back exposed even to our own soldiers.

And there’s a shudder. Our own soldiers. Vayden and Carok guy.

I want to know someone really Goddess-damned well before I let them have a clear shot at Zelda’s back. Or mine, for that matter, but at least if it’s me I’ll react fast. Not that she isn’t fast…

But I’ve never seen her do the Thing. Better to assume she can’t.

-----

My Goddess. The south's all but an inferno, what happened here?

“So much!”

I’ve never, never heard Beraya like that before-

“TASS!”

NONONO

“Easy!”

OFFLinkoff

“Easy, easy, good boy-“

gethisreins!

“Good, good Tass!”

“Hey hey hey hey shh- Tass-“ got him

“Kh- khh-“

got him “shh- shhhhh” soothe him Link “shh-“ just enough give her a few seconds “shh, shh, easy- easy-“ he is so done, rolling eyes- “dismount, everyone- now- yes- gooood boy, good, easy-“ she’s off let go lethimgo-

Good they’re all off “On FOOT! We GO!”

She’s alright she’s so fast like me running beside me and Dear Goddess it's warm even here! In there the plate mail would’ve baked half of us alive and even the water won’t last us long-

“Khh.”

-amazing the horses got us so close to the treeline they’re not lit here not yet outer edge dark silhouettes monsters? Trees bushes rocks maybe or crouching things could be could be do I see horns

“AAAAAAAH!”

“Link!”

“Yes!” Screaming where where nothing nothing nothing nothing

“SPEED!”

“Yes, Princess!” “Ahhh!” “Gh.” “Mkh.” “Kh- kh kh- khh“

Coughing more, please, please don’t let her drop-

“AAAH! AAAAHHHH!” “KHHHHGH.”

“THAT WAY!”

Does she see them does she I SEE “THERE!” MoblinmoblinmoblinnoFASTERLINK NO YEHHHHHS ZELDA GO DOWN GO DOWN

“IT YET LIVES!”

It does but an arrow through its eye gave that kid seconds he needed and now Terial, Aree, great shots, it must be a red, it’s on its knees already and LIFF, yes, he’s fast too and- there goes its throat.

“You hurt?!”

Kid’s shocked he’s shocked answer Liff come on

“I- I- I h- ad to come back!”

Crying.

“We are here to kh- help- what happened?”

Zelda- he may not be able to

“Here- I got you.“

Kid’s filthy and shaking but seems sturdy enough now Liff pulled him up.

“They- they told us to run, but I had to come back! Something’s wrong- at the next farm, too, everyone’s just waiting in the wheat-“

Everyone.

“-and there’s not enough water and we could see the fire got worse!”

The other kids. “How did this start?”

“Monsters. They just- came. Out of nowhere-“

“KKRRGGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.”

…What was that?

“Oh, F$*%.”

“Daile?”

“Sir- Princess- that sounds like a lynel.”

“Your dad-“

“Yes, sir.”

“Princess?”

“We go. In.”

And fast, my Goddess-

“Kid, go back. The others have horses?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Don’t lose those.”

Liff’s sharper

“The horses want to bolt,”

than I gave him credit for.

“you’re better off on them than not, alright?”

Nod, Link, he has spooked-face

“Y- yeah.”

like he thinks he might’ve overstepped.

“Just- go and don’t come back here- ah-“

I really, really don't mind, people can't be constantly asking me about everything.

“-unless someone you trust fetches you. And-“

Unless he tells the kid to do something stupid.

“-if you see anything off, just run. Uh…”

And Liff’s looking at me.

“Khhh.”

Because which way? Which way is safe? “…Head south by southeast so you’d just barely scrape the farm at the foot of Salari hill in that direction. Then… make for the royal lab.” They can defend themselves better than the logging village, so… safer… maybe.

“O- okay.”

Didn’t have to tell him twice. He’s scared to s#$&… wait, shuffling chuchu LEAP Linkwhathe- “Rkh!”

“Ah!” “Move, kid!” “Move!” “Gkh!”

GONNA POP BACKBACKBACK LINK, BACK OFF

“Eh-“ “Ff-“ “Blasted-“ “Move, move!” “Fire-”

Fire chuchus here?! “In- in, everyone, the town! Go, kid!”

Watch him go watch him go, DAMN the wood’s dry pine needles like flammable fricking carpet, back up "Back up, back up!" watch the kid they’ll pull ahead but I’ll catch up almost almost almost trees he’s out all you can do Link you can’t escort him all the way back and if there’s anyone left alive in the town they’re in just as much danger and more

“There!”

Her eyes so good there it is a boko-

“QUEHEKYUEEE!”

Varniro Genenko careful bad shield arm

“GRK!” “QYEEHEEEE! K-“

GOOD.

Red. DownMORE

“KGGGH.” “KHG.”

They always sound so disgustingly happy

“Gh- ah!”

Happy to maim- Margil

“Ghg!”

Good skewered blue not dead-

“Akk!”

-now it is.

Happy to kill, too.

Not like Margil.

His face is not happy right now. Bokos smile when they kill.

“They are kh- here awaiting those who flee.”

“…Yeah.” I hope there are people left to run.

There’s more I see them waiting on the road at the edge of the houses some behind moblins those are moblins three red blue blue, at least two bokoblins, horns, little horns sticking up show them-

Yes. Shh- there they are. One two three- four five. Eyes out. Look. All of you scan. Zelda?

They- are- looking- inward. We quiet, we surprise them. Yes. Good.

Spread out.

No- Zelda. Stay with me.

Liff and Cohl again. Good. Huiru creeping crouched, Terial with Margil- Aree with Beraya, Daile with Genenko, Varniro with Reida, a pair, okay. Huiru’s alone but he clearly has a method.

Six pairs. Five monsters. So far.

We’ve got THAT one.

Sh sh sh… she knows. She knows. Quiet. The fire’s loud, but- doesn’t mean it couldn’t hear us at all, a snapping branch, a cough-

…please don’t cough.

Hot. Even here. Hot. Smoke. Careful. Pay attention to your skin, Link-

I will endeavor to notify you of any sudden changes in your skin, master, but I have no method by which to measure your surroundings.

Thank you.

Her fists just balled.

She wants to cough.

Hurry, hurry, the flames, hiding the footsteps, careful but quick careful but quick-

Closercloser right in the back the spine wait for it, for the others.

Zelda- yes. Turn. Face out. Watch my back. I watch yours.

They’re- almost- nowTHROUGH

“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHH!”

“RRGHT!” “QUEKEHHH!” “QUORHHIEWHE!” “KGHR?”

Almost all Daile Beraya Liff got theirs where’s Huiru

“KRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH!”

Varniro’s he didn’t surprise it but they’ve got it

“QHWEHHH!”

MORE “MORE!” Main road, there! She’ll follow you Link, go take it out, it's hot but you're okay-

Fighting I hear it on the edges monsters at the next two roads too they have it trust them THIS one- “HhhaaHH!”

“QHEEHKHH!” “Kh-“

“Kh- khmkhm-“

StaybackZelda I’vegotit “Grk- hh!” the armpit slice it can’t raise its shield SLICE- THRUST

Down.

“Kh- hh. The smoke.”

“I know. I know, I’m so sorry- Zelda- it’s your dec-“

“We keep going.”

I thought so but heat smoke “ON RIGHT!”

Sheturned heardboots it’s breathinghard but didn’tgrowl feet loud anyway SLIDE underitsguardLinkSHINSyes

“GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH!”

Yeahthathurtdidn’tit Zelda YESOH ROLLLINK

Damn she nailed that but it almost fell on me it’s prone proneTHRUST- THRUST

Dead? D-NO THRUST-twist-

“Kh-kh-kh.”

Stay still.

Dead- wh?

Margil and Terial

“Another moblin, down!”

Good Terial’s hand on his mask though he feels it the smoke

Goddess if we hadn’t soaked ourselves I’d’ve been soaked by sweat instead and dehydrating fast. How long til it steams off?

Link? You see steaming with your eyes and you grab Zelda and make everyone back the hell off.

Realistically, she'd probably notice it before me.

There are the others. Around the sides of the houses. Here! Yeah, here- let’s not split up. Don’t see Huiru yet… Cohl- Liff. They’re looking, too.

…They don’t see him.

Yeah Cohl, I don’t know either. Just shake your head, Link. Zelda?

“All- kh- together.”

Alright, she’s pointing that way she’s right she’s right less fire we can’t stay in this long south is an inferno north we can at least last a while- Huiru, he should’ve come out over here somewhere anyway, hurry, hurry, but look look look look lots of movement flickering shadows things flapping in the wind from the fire no other people yet not yet- easing, easing it’s not as bad over here, the fire worst in southwest maybe glow and smoke but it’s quieter this way too careful something could hear

“Kh… KH.”

Zelda, is your cloth still wet?

“Link?”

Quietly “Cloth- wet?”

Nodding, good, good- mine is so hers should be too just checking just checking can’t kill smoke with a sword can’t protect her.

Liff and Cohl fell in naturally checking around each house opposite directions it helps we can move faster.

Less and less and less, still hot but cooler here-

Those houses- not flaming-

Zelda?

That’s a yes, we check, Liff and Cohl check that house, Reida and Varniro, check that one everyone else watch watch watch eyes all directions- watch the fire too, embers, it won’t be long they’ll catch

“Khh. Kh.”

It would be insane for someone to hide in a closet or something with fire in the town it shouldn’t be that, either they’re hiding somewhere they can see out or they’re unconscious or dead or the house is just empty

No one moving all up and down road, far as I can see Zelda shaking her head, too-

Bodies? Bodies no bodies they all run?

And-

Head-shakes. Nothing in that house.

Varniro…?

“Kh.”

No. Not that one either.

“Gg- khhh khhhh.”

And Terial’s coughing too and there’s still no Huiru here, two roads over.

Zelda?

I know that jaw- clench. Like right before she gets in the pool at the Cathedral.

“We go.”

Alright. Just point, Link, the less talking the better, that way everyone, west.

Where the fire’s louder maybe talking fine, here just not, lets us breathe through our noses anyway eyes peeled everyone going going going

Behind us?

Nothing.

Beraya- Liff- keep looking back. Okay?

Okay.

flAMES

“Ah!” “FF-“ “S$&#-“ “Kh-“

WOAH that was some pop- Reida looks a little singed but okay, flames more, hotter, some of these houses completely ablaze lucky lucky the paths aren’t too narrow never seen Serenne before wouldn’t’ve known hotter inward we circle circle around where's-

“KKRRGGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.”

Lynel

Here we all are, hunted deer watching, listening.

It can’t be that close hardly any louder but maybe wrong, never seen a lynel never heard one either if that’s what it is, Daile’s the only one.

Still… listening.

Roaring. Of fire.

I'm dryer already.

More dark houses. Zelda?

That’s a yes and opinion established we check the survivable houses- pairs- Liff, Cohl- Varniro, Reida- Daile, Genenko- Margil, Beraya.

“Sir?”

“Quick, Margil, we’re good- go.”

Can’t say I blame him, I’ve been having them flank Zelda the whole-

“Khh. Kh.”

-time, but speed! Don’t think I should leave the archers out here alone. We stay. We watch. Should I call out? If someone’s hiding they might just come out and if monsters do at least we’re not walking into an ambush, they’d come to usOH no. Oh, Link. Could the lynel hear me if I yell? The fire might drown me out if it’s among it but I just don’t know and we could sure hear it roar- “No shouting?”

“Agreed.”

“Lynel?”

“Yes.”

I concur, master.

You’ve been quiet.

I am endeavoring not to distract you, master.

I… can see why.

I will take this opportunity to notify you your blood oxygenation levels are still within an acceptable range at 99%.

Uh. Good! I bet that would mean more to Zelda, but I can guess…

100% is desirable and indicates excellent breathing. Below 90% is dangerous.

What about Zelda?

I can measure no one’s but yours, master.

Right- right. Let me know if it changes, okay?

I plan to, master.

I bet hers are lower than that.

It is likely everyone’s are lower than yours, master, considering your pristine physical condition. I speculate your associate Terial is suffering most. I recommend removing both him and the Princess from this environment as soon as possible.

Yeah. Me too.

“Kh- kh. Khh.”

A few more houses.

“KHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH.”

…I sure couldn’t tell where that came from.

Could be around the corner.

That’s comforting.

“Khhh kh.”

Smoke so thick southward. Even looking down a clear path, hard to see. It… wasn’t that much louder, though.

“Ahm. Ahkhm.”

“Terial, you good?”

“Khhh- akm. Yeah, it- doesn’t agree with me.”

Me either, but it’s getting to him already.

“Kh- kh.”

At least Zelda’s doesn’t seem to be getting worse quick like his.

I think they’re almost done.

A lynel shows up, you don’t let Zelda anywhere near it, Link. You make her run.

Not that I could MAKE her do anything.

But.

“Ahm. Ahehehm.”

Wow. Am I just- falling into old habits or something? She’s right here. “Princess?”

“Yes?”

“Lynel, you leave.”

A long look. Something odd there, something I don’t like. Her eyebrow crease. Can’t see her mouth or nose, but- worried?

“I- understand.”

Wow. Well, good- and Margil and Beraya, also good.

Except also not good-

“Kh.”

-because they’re shaking their heads. “Bodies?”

Oh. No bodies either, so… still good.

Beraya. Squeeze her shoulder, Link.

The others – also coming. Except- no, no, there’s Varniro, too.

Closer. Closer. Okay. “If a lynel surprises us, the Princess is to retreat. Margil and Beraya, you’ll escort her.”

Nods all around.

I’m really amazed she just agreed to it, but-

“Khm. Kh- khm.”

-I’ll take it.

Let’s move. “Cohl- yeah, watch on that edge, Reida on yours.” Corners, corners. “We’ll move a few streets up and start again on the houses. Any of you find bodies?”

“No, sir.” “No.” “No.”

“Two. On- the street that way.”

Don’t let your face fall with your heart, Link. Did you think everyone would escape this hell alive? “…We do this as fast as we can- try to find anyone who’s left.”

“And- kh-kh- discover… where those missing have gone.”

Chuchu- Genenko’s got it, he’s got it aaaand one and two- there it goes already back up back up while it pops-

Chuchus do just spring from the ground. Like the… Dead Hands. Is that what happened here? They just sprang up, lit things? OH- “Back!”

Backupbackupbackup thereyougo manhandlingZelda sorry

HOT- "fffff!"

“Akhhhhh- khhhh ghghm.”

Hot…

Damn. Maybe. Fricking chuchu jelly explodes. Probably wouldn’t see it lying around.

Check behind- clear.

“Khh.”

They’re not too hard to kill but you have to know to run when they start puffing up. A good pop or two with a pitchfork and a sprint the other way would do it but of course you’ve set the nearest house on fire.

“Kh- khh.”

Maybe that’s why so few bodies.

It’s inconsistent.

“Ahhghm- dammit.”

Some houses not lit.

Yet.

Could be why. No chuchu pop-ups there.

But fire ones, here? They’re supposed to live in hot places. Eldin. Never thought to ask father. “Hey dad, do fire chuchus REALLY stick only to the slopes of Death Mountain?”

Has he even been to Death Mountain?

“Ah-hm.”

He must’ve- Oh? Waving waving Cohl?

Stop, everyone.

“Khhh khh.”

Okay- Zelda, with me- we’ll look.

Wow. Wow. Yeah, good eye, back-slap for you come on- come on everyone here- the well.

Buckets. Lots of them. Wet. Recently in use, and no bodies. Right? Am I crazy to be happy about this? Zelda?

No, no I’m not crazy because she looks at least a little relieved. Someone was fighting the fire and not that long ago. Lots of someones. That’s- yeah. Cooler here. Less flame.

Slightly less grim faces.

We go- further-careful check each way check, is that a bokoblin tooth? Teeth? A horn? They did fight back and yes that’s another bucket rolling around- another one there… on fire, now…

Back toward the east- anything?

Eyes every way, everyone.

I think I do see a few more monster parts. No people, though.

Alright everyone- yeah- spread on the street again we don’t quite fit I don’t like it Margil, Beraya? Yes, thank you. Princess’ back. This section seems pretty quiet, pretty cleared out, but still…

“Kh- khm. Kh.”

Steam. They doused things. Pump- there. It really can’t’ve been that long ago, can it? Not if we still see it like that.

“Wait.“

“Princess?”

“The pump. We refresh our facecloths while checking the area- quickly!"

“On it!”

Woah “Wait, the handle- hold your hand near it first, Genenko.” He was totally just going to grab it-

“It’s not hot, I’ll try it.”

Oh good.

“Bucket!”

“Thanks, Varniro.”

“Find your pairs.”

“Yes-“ “Yes, Princess-“

Finger to your lips, Link, they’re talking louder… they got the message. Quiet checking of those houses and alleys- oh no. Beraya.

Her face, Link.

Her family’s house- would’ve been southeast. Where the fire was worse.

Zelda?

Beraya.

…Yeah.

She already realized.

Can’t just ignore that, say something, just- quietly- “Beraya?”

Shaking her head. “We couldn’t have.”

“They might’ve got out.”

A strange, small smile.

She thinks they’re probably dead.

And Terial just dunked his whole face in that bucket. Good. He seems to need it more than the rest of- ”SH”$&%! ZELDA CORRALHERCORRALHERSHIELDSHIELD WHERE

Aree! Her arrow through its neck- Terial- Zelda wants to step out and shoot but no, no, that almost hit me and it could hit her, too- damn that thing was quiet. They usually give themselves away with the squealing.

Dead.

“Where the hell did it-”

“The house.”

“KKRRGGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHRRRR.”

I saw her breath catch.

Yes.

Closer, it’s closer, I know. Closer, eyes eyes out Daile?

Daile miming crouch crouch everyone down down LIFF, yes, YOU, DOWN! Zelda I want to just curl up in a ball around her but that won’t help anyone Daile’s looking at me eyes that way eyes that way he says-

There. Far.

But visible. Half turned away from us between houses and the hood on that further well, between smoke.

Okay. My Goddess. That has to be a lynel. Because it’s not a horse. But- it moves almost like one. Bright red mane, way too wide and thick not a horse not one bit.

Move- goodDaileagrees everyonemove STAYDOWN butmove move move move behind the next house holy f#$& don’t turn around now, don’t- face that way face that way face that way Margil Beraya flank Zelda thank you yes- oh. Okay. Daile. Staying crouched behind the well. Looking at me.

Yeah.

He’s right.

We have to take it out.

The mystery of the missing people doesn’t matter much if they can’t come back.

Zelda? I go.

“KKRRRRRGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHRRRR.”

…It’s like the earth’s breath stops when it does that.

I want you completely out of its eyeline or even possible eyeline.

You, Margil, and Beraya… and Liff and Cohl.

Yup.

Shhh!

Glad I saw him about to talk, Holy Hylia this is not the moment to find out how good lynel hearing is.

S&$#. Genenko’s bad arm. He has to stay, too.

You can do this, Link. You can mime.

Genenko- you- Zelda, Margil, Beraya, Liff, and Cohl, you all look for the missing people.

The missing people.

The PEOPLE.

Bucket-people!

Ahhh now you get it.

Okay. Daile. You and me. On point. But- yeah. Agreed. We flank it.

Yeah. You that way. Me this way.

Okay, Link. Your father told you how to fight these. Just- plan. Archers stay at crazy far range if they can and you have to be ready to f$&$ing run. No bunching up. Everyone at different locations.

Terial, my side. Aree, Daile’s side. Varniro, my side. Reida, Daile’s side. Like this. Spread out- Daile, then Reida, then Aree. And for my side, me, then Varniro, then Terial.

I’d tell the archers to take rooftops if there wasn’t fire involved.

There are… more flames by the lynel, too.

And… We can't go into that soaking wet. We'll have water boiling against our skin. Facecloths only, because we have no choice.

And Fi's not arguing with me.

Okay. Everyone- face cloths only.

And of course the pump makes sound. Does the lynel know what a pump sounds like? Does it know that means people?

Hopefully not. I don’t hear anything rushing toward us. Still… keep it down, Genenko.

Terial went already- Aree next.

Fi, anything I should know?

Your oxygenation level is unchanged, master. But the area into which you propose to head is inundated with smoke. Your facecloth cannot protect you from asphyxiation, nor from carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulf-

Wait, from what?

Forgive me, master. Harmful gases. Your facecloth cannot filter them. It will protect you from burns and solid particles only.

We have to go.

Agreed.

O- oh.

Did you believe I would argue?

Yeah, kind of.

No, master. The beast must be felled. If one arrow would be sufficient to do so, I would suggest the Princess simply take aim and fire at first opportunity. But the beast would charge, and I believe you wished to avoid that scenario.

Yeah, yeah I did. She’s- she’s not ready for that.

No. She is not.

I… kind of thought you’d argue with me there, too.

…

Ohhh there you go again with one of your weird silences. Only this time I have no clue at all why. At least I usually know what it is you’re trying not to tell me.

Ah- my turn. Damn, I went turned-in-like. That happens sometimes when I talk to you.

Thus my efforts not to distract you, master.

Thanks. For the moment, though… just trying to creep low across the square and use the water.

I don’t see it anymore. It could easily come closer, though, just down another road. The facecloth wow needed that. The water… isn’t cool like well water really should be. It’s warm. But compared to what’s up here, it’s refreshing.

Okay.

Nothing for it.

You all ready?

Everyone’s smart enough to look scared. Probably more than they otherwise would be since they’re not used to fighting unarmored.

Reida almost looks angry. Maybe that’s how she preps herself for a nasty fight.

Or maybe she’s pissed because I assumed she’s willing to take on a lynel. I’m treating her like our own soldiers. But Zelda’s not stopping me, so I think I’m okay to do so for the moment.

Okay. We go. Now.

Try not to worry about Zelda, Link. Small smile. Hey- I managed one this time. Oh- there’s those balled fists again. She’s- struggling. Struggling not to cough.

Please- be okay.

See you soon.

Around the house. Keep watch. Wh- nasty thing- bokoblin heart. Pretty sure I see a moblin horn way far off, too. Wins for the missing people of Serenne. What-

Wish- wish I hadn’t seen that. Wonder who it was.

Who they were.

If- we run into monsters and we fight them, it’ll hear us. Daile sure didn’t-

“Kh- m.”

-want us making any sound. Though granted, he’s not the one who fought lynels. It was his father. But seeing a fight happen from far off is better than nothing.

Father did say they have amazing hearing. And eyesight. And sense of smell. That there’s almost no hiding from them, not unless you’re real far away.

Must be why. Why the people are gone. They may all have fled into the trees.

And been slaughtered by the monsters waiting there for them.

Of course. Of course. Line the trees with moblins and bokoblins, where it’s darker and harder to see they’re there, especially the bokoblins that just look like boulders in the dark until you get close. Then send in the lynel and those fire chuchus. Let them light the town up. Let the lynel kill everything in its path and claim the place as its territory, forcing people to run because between it and the fire there’s nothing they can do. Then they get slaughtered in the ring of trees. Boko riders pick off the few who escape to the fields-

The fields. My Goddess. They sent kids there.

And we didn’t kill all the riders, we didn’t, one blew right past us!

“Kh- m- m.”

My Goddess, my Goddess, there’s nothing I can do now nothing I have to find them later have to tell Zelda Goddess forgive me!

The sooner we take this lynel out the sooner we can help them.

The boy was alive. He was alive and he came back to help, right?

He did, right?

…Did he say that’s why?

He didn’t but he went back willingly. Yes. Yes, he said they still had the horses. They were… okay when he left.

Wh-

That’s a Moblin hand sticking out from behind that house.

Look.

Okay. It’s too close to our path, we have to take it out.

Your bow, Link, don’t make Terial cross in front. Here we go. Here we go- there’s its head, turned awayOHit’sturning SHOOT- sunk!

Dammit, LOUD moblin-

Varniro bowling it over it’s yelling take it OUT it’s too loud-

“KKRRRRRGGHRRRRRRR.”

The lynel louder did it hear did it hear? It’s not right on top of us not yet- what was that sound? Moblin-? Varniro has it the arrow screwed it up real good go go go ANOTHER, LEAPOVERTHISONELINK head it off, get it before it’s near Varniro- arrow thunked hit wood Terial missed WOAH!missedmemoblin STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE

Not dead not yet black moblins tough kill it shut it up YES good shot Terial SWIPE-

AH! Ittriedtoheadbuttme?! Good its face is in the dirt- NECK. It’s done. Right? Twist. Spine-OH! REALLY?! Hylia, get its-

Head. Another good shot- crunching?

“Kh.”

Crunching wood smash???

Moblin dead- other one too- there’s no roaring but somehow that’s not comforting they don’t look comforted either what was the crunching? Let’s go but this way, backward, around these houses, I have a feeling I just have a feeling it heard it knows and I could be wrong and if there are more monsters this way it’ll hear that too anyway and there ARE, blue boko right there, back up

F#$&!

“KKRRAGGHRRRRERRRRRR!”

The lynel different that was different

“You hear that?”

I swear it heard

“Is it starting?”

kill the boko kill it

“Shh…”

slice slice shield bash it bashbashbashbashbash

SLICE SLICE THRUST- THRUST! It’sgoingdown it’sgoing but I hear it hoofbeats it knows it knows send them backward Link!

Varniro, Terial, retreat! Behind me behind me go go go go go go go go go NO NO I stay, you go!

That was chuffing it’s close GO! Yes, good good go, now I back up, back up, straight though, straight, I think it’ll see me but not them at least not at first and they can take up other positions and more wood smashing it’s close what is it doing ANOTHER smash-

“Khm. Khm- kh.”

-that was close ANOTHER what is it doing THAT was a piece of wood flying over my head a beam, a piece of a beam, the houses, it’s smashing the houses, what’s left of them, does it think we might be inside or is it just angry?

My Goddess I feel like I can hear it thinking, its breath is so loud.

Zelda? She’s probably not looking at the slate. She shouldn’t be. She needs to be watchful-

THERE I just saw it whatever it’s using around that bend right there back up so slow Link so soft so it can’t see you not yet not yet no advantage I’m in the wrong spot and Daile’s not here to flank it though he’ll catch on and move, he will-

SPLINTERS WOODHOTHOT PATITOUT S&$^ PATITOUT

SOUND THAT MADE SOUND IT’LL

“KRRRRRGH!!”

HEAR

“S$&#!” “Sounds bad-“

WOOD!FIRE!EYES

“We continue.“

EYES NEEDTHOSE

“Yes-” “Yes, Princess.”

ASHLINK ASH JUSTDODGEANDPRAY DODGEANDPRAY SMASHING SMASHING DEEP BOOM DIRT WHERE I JUST WAS IWASJUSTTHERE AND I HEARDIT

“KRRRRRRRGH!”

Come on eyes comeON HOOFBEATS DODGEANDPRAYHYLIA ITPASSED MYBACKWALL SPLINTERSSHARP SKIDDING

Yes YESLINK It’sheavy it’ssoheavy ittakestime takes time to stop don’t panic clear your eyes you have a moment you HAVE IT and THEREITIS RIGHT THERE SKIDDED TO A STOP JUST LIKE A HORSE

Mount it!!!

YES! ITS HEAD ITS HEAD BASH ITS HEAD BASH BASH BASH BASH BASH BASH

AH! FFF!

“Kh- m- m- kh.”

THROWN

“Prin-?”

FLAMING ROOF my Goddess get off get off ihhhtFALLING!! ShoulderHOT HOTHOTHOTHOTHOTHOT noLink moveyouHAVEto it’llcrushyou theclub HOOFbeats

ROLLROLL NEVERMINDTHEHEAT oh GODdess ff hurts rightwhereIwas whereIwasagain itsaim perfect mountingitworked butcarefulcareful-

“-RRRHH.”

That was different,wh-

RUNLINK

Fathersaid hesaid whenitjuststands burstofflame magic magic they’remagic thefire it’ll burst anysecondKEEPRUNNING

“HH!” “Did you?!” “S$&*#!”

S#%$NO!

“It appears-“

MYBACKMYBACK

“-as though the lynel has been engaged.”

Sh- sh$# singed keep running anyway

get your bearings for a second

it hurts but there’s been way way way worse the heat I think if my back'd been soaked like earlier I'd've lost all the skin all the skin

more FIRE I hear it

It’s pawing the earth-

DAILE!- no, no, hotwe’ll both be on the same side mime mime, I’ll circle around! Hope he saw that, go right Link go go go go go hot that pawing sound again what is it OHNO IT BLEW BY I MOVED IT BLEW BY WHERE I WAS IT’S AFTER DAILE

Please let him have dodged that please, straight back Link we’ll flank it as long as Daile made it PRONE HE’SPRONE

NO YOU DON’T! HEY! HEY LOOK AT ME I’M RIGHT HERE THAT’S RIGHT it has a bunchhot of arrows in it already I didn’t even realize couldn’t see Terial must’ve been going nuts on it from somewhere and CLUBOVERITSHEAD DODGELINK DODGE BACKFLIP BACK AGAIN

Master!

NOT FAR ENOUGH THE VIBRATIONS TOOhot MUCH PRONE PRONE

Your blood oxygenation level is dropping!

YES, Daile! Sword in its flank

Seek to exit the smoke!

DAILE BACKHANDED FLYING HOT HOWISITTHIShotFAST?

“Sirs- kh- hh.”

MOUNT IT AGAIN MOUNT

“The next well-“

BASH BASH BASH BASH

“-this way.”

BASH LEAP EARLY YES

Yes yes Daile- he’s up and it’shot looking at me again and CLUBNO BACKFLIPaaAAAH!

H-head. Good, Link, you’re good, justhot- hit wood, not hotstone

“Kh.”

you’ve had worse way way worseMOVEMOVE!

SMASHINGwood HOTalloverme BURNScrawlout crawlout GODDESS! Shakingground so close how did it miss-

BecauseVarniro!

95% and dropping!

Yesyesyes different hotdirections someoneELSEonitsback Reida it’s ReidaYES SWORD, LINK, RIGHT THERE!!!

Ohhhhitdoesn’tlikethat upitshorse-chestandthrough hotpullout backu- NONO rollunder!

CLUB HolyHylia itstillthrewme and I washot almost behind it, Daile good flank-swipe, arrowsarrows lotsmore Reidawentflying gettingup helpVarniro, itsbelly rightthere hotTHROUGH!

ROLL OUT!

Waveringwavering it’shot whining. Another arrow and another- what-?

PUSH VARNIRO! FIREBALLFIREBALLFIREBALL and HOToh HOTGoddess

MASTER THE FIRE!

IKNOW!!! HOTmy HOTclothes HOTmaskoffoffOFF!

94% AND DROPPING RAPIDLY!

HOTroll ROLL YOU TOO VARNIRO HOT if theHOT houses HOTweren’t here

YOUR BODY IS UNABLE TO REGULATE ITS TEMPERATURE!

HOTwe’d’ve gotHOT hit head-on and YES FI Hyliahelpme IKNOW

“Khh.”

HOTTerialdown? Don’tHOTknow

“Kh.”

crossstreetHOT CROSSLINK RUNRUN FIREBALLHA!missedme HOTHOTHOT CRUNCHING bashingHOT throughtheHOThouse togetme BACKFLIP EARLYLINK be somewhereHOTelse andHOT dotheThing thebowthebowslowitdownslowitall aimaimaimaimaimaimaimaimaimperfectshotbeperfectFIRE

“GRHHHUUUUU!”

Here HOTthey all come

“GR- UUUPH!”

To finish you offHOT

That’s HOTnot a battle cry

Not anymore

Reida

Went forHOT the throat

HOTThe others justHOT- through.

Think- I’llHOT take a breather.

“Kh- khh.”

YES, master, exit the heavy smoke!

It’sHOT down.

Whining.

HOT. Too HOT too hot thingsspinning backoffbackoffcooler

I almosthot feel sorry abouthot this one

Almost

“It’s the same here…”

hotBecause it seems more like an animalspinning

hotAnd less like a monster

It didn’t seem happyhot to kill us

hotNot like bokoblins

But nohot way

“Kh- hh.”

hotNo way

It washot it or us.

Andhot this village

“Oh!”

Or what’s lefthot

“Sir Liff?”

of it and its people.

“Hello down there!”

Too hot what’s she-?

“How fortunate.”

“What- Huiru!”

Yeah. Hot. Yeah- it’s-

“I’ve been following the well system, Princess.”

What?

“We’d thought you lost.”

hotNot now.

“Haha. I was for a time.”

Priorities.

“But now I’ve found you.”

We regroup with the others. They’ll’ve moved.

“Indeed. Huiri-“

We succeed, we returnhot.

“Yes, Princess?”

Not saying it again.

“Is there wind below?”

We’re leaving. Hot.

“Yes.”

You want to stay behind and wait, stay behind. Hot.

hotWow. Get your hotf$&#ing priorities straight.

“Princess?”

Grantedhot the apothecary would pay an ass ton for any lynel part of any kindhot.

“Kh- have you seen anyone down there?”

But I am NOT waiting aroundhot here-

“A few bodies.”

-for it to disintegrate. Hylia help me.

Damn- damn, speaking ofhot priorities- Hey- that well back this way first, everyone.

“Kh. I- see.”

Fresher, cooler water for the cloths, it’s too hot not to-ohhh-spinningagain noo no no- stay up, Link

“Please join us above, Huiru.”

Master- you are at 91%

“Yes, Princess.”

Terial? Terial- Daile!

“Continue to be watchful, everyone.”

Yeah yeahhot help him spinning- out, out everyone OUT north north now!

“It sounds as though the battle has ended.”

You goodhot Aree?

“We kh- shall await the others.”

YOU GOOD?!

“As you say, Princess.”

Come onhot yeah yeah got you gothot

Cooler

Surehot hope now f$&#ing moblins jump us now.

Cooler This way!

The air is better here, Master.

Heh. Yeah. I could tell.

---

Part 17 coming soon (I hope!).

Follow this link to return to the chapter list.

Follow this link for my masterlist.

#adventure log+#adventure log+ AU #botw #botw fanfic #zelda #loz #zelink #fantasy #adventure #action #suspense #sheikah slate POV #unorthodox POV #zelda fanfic #got some totk references going now

12 notes · View notes

thegeminisage · 21 days

Note

as someone who wasn't around in 2014....can you tell me what it was like? (stucky) can you give me a taste of the gardens of babylon etc

what was it like...this is such a fun question i want you to know i gave serious thought to my answer and also discussed it at length with my 2014 friend last night and i know already it's gonna be so long. sorry that i answered your ask at fuck o clock in the morning i am scheduling it to go up later and also at the time you sent the ask in to make sure you see it

ok so like. i mean, you're on the fandom website, right, so i assume youve been in fandoms. idk if youve ever been in a really, REALLY big fandom, at the same time that said fandom was also producing content (even if the source material was not). think d*stiel post nov 5, or undert*le circa late 2015/early 2016, or z*lda after totk came out, or h*rry p*tter as the seventh book was being released. (i'm censoring to avoid a false positive of anybody's blacklist except in the case of the last one, which i am censoring out of <3 disrespect.) like there's something REALLY luxurious about being in ANY large and active fandom and it's mostly the power of crowdsourcing. st*r tr*k 2009's tarsus iv headcanons. the storm trooper lore re: the f*rce awakens before the second two movies came out. everyone just kind of agreeing that dean w*nchester was a teenage hooker. you know?

like, that's "just fanon," sure, but part of the beauty of it is that no one person makes up fanon, we all gather in the biggest writing group in the world and collectively go insane and bat ideas back and forth. there are a hundred THOUSAND fics about bucky barnes on ao3 and that's just the people who were writing, not even counting artists and gifmakers and meta-writers and people who just reblog stuff. i can't possibly begin to put an accurate number to how many people are in any given fandom at any given time, but imagine (on the low end, i'm sure) there are THOUSANDS, perhaps tens of thousands, of people going nuts about stevebucky at all times. tens of THOUSANDS people doing "yes and" with each other on the internet 24 hours a day seven days a week. it's just like being in any fandom, you log on to your dash and see what the mewchies posted while you were gone, but in a fandom so huge and so active you were getting bombarded with idea after idea after idea every single second, so if you don't like one you're spoiled for choice in what you engage with next. it didn't even matter that cap3 was two years away or that it sucked when it finally got here because we collectively wrote cap3 a million times over. like, genuinely, it was a mass creative exercise. it's the biggest writing group in the world. for better or worse, we were shaping our own version of that universe, without any input from or regard to the people who actually created the characters and movie, in a way that compelled most strongly to our own tastes and demographic.

what made this particular movie/fandom special though was a few things. firstly i still genuinely believe it was ahead of its time...marvel shit pre disney was allowed to be political in ways it is ABSOLUTELY not now. like, cap2 could say "the government is secretly full of nazis and they all need to burn" in 2014 two years before the 2016 election and 7 years before jan 6. like you just couldn't say that now. "war bad" is an oldie but goodie, but "our entire government is corrupt and needs to be torn into flaming pieces and cast into the potomac" is um. pretty radical. so is, by the way, "men as victims" and "men having emotions" etcetc. like, not in fandom, fandom all but invented that shit, but as far as dumb superhero movies go. i can't tell you the number of metas i read AND WROTE discussing steve rogers and masculinity and how all that was portrayed, intentionally or not, in that fucking film. i had entire separate universes built up in my head for steve who was born a cis girl and steve who decided later in life that "nonbinary" or "trans woman" was a better fit and then steve who was born as a cis boy and remained a man his whole life but felt weird and different ways about being queer which clashed with the weird and different ways BARNES felt about being queer. i'm not saying the film (or the fandom! good lord) was perfect, it was a product of its time, but it was also WAY ahead of its time too. it was weird to expect the next film to come out and actually, like, be good. it wasnt, but we fully believed it would be and that wasn't delusional behavior because the last one had been. i would never have that kind of faith in a marvel project now because they've been bought by disney.

oh yeah and that's the other thing too like. speaking of queer people. gay marriage wasn't legal in the US on a federal level until 2015, and you couldn't just flip on your TV and see them whenever you wanted. ten years doesn't seem like that long ago in the grand scheme of things but like, we lived on glee and cw/mtv queerbait (disclaimer that i personally only participated in cw queerbait) and that was it. we had crumbs. and like when people write gay characters theyre Just Gay, but if you decide to be crazy stupid in a slash fandom you can decide these layered characters are gay and that's even better rep than um whatever was going on in other pieces of media. these guys are both so lonely and out of step with time and lack other people with "shared life experiences" (girl what the hell was that) and their connection w each other keeps them afloat in a world that doesn't want them so like of COURSE it seems like it's supposed to be romantic. and like, i could and did make myself and my tumblr buds crrrazy (and got made crazy by them) thinking about:

how steve's size when small and again when big interacted w his gender identity and his sexuality and how that sexuality manifested. barnes's identity As A Man hinging on his ability to go to war for his country bc Thats What Men Did but now he's no longer fit because theres worms in his brain. loss of bodily autonomy which usually happens to women and natasha being later in that journey than steve and bucky are and so close to being at peace with it but not there yet. stigmatization of seeking treatment for mental health issues lessened by the presence of sam who could have been a Macho Tough Guy but actually gives off strong Talk About Our Feelings And Be Soft vibes. don't even get me started on the relationship (predatory) between steve and rumlow and how it parallels the one between barnes and pierce (and if any of you motherfuckers BREATHE a word of that h*dra tr*sh p*rty shit in my direction i will END you) and the stigma that comes from being preyed on when vulnerable As Men. steve's depression and ptsd and him getting triggered by, yes, the fucking ALS ice bucket challenge. the collective belief that he was conscious when he was frozen even though nobody said that so that he and barnes could have that in common too. the headcanon about barnes having roma heritage - shoutout to not easily conquered my beloved, and the 14k smut coda i wrote for it✌ speaking of smut, i would be remiss also not to mention there was a STRONG element of collective lust involved. i'm immune to 99% of it bc im ace but the winter soldier was uh. VERY graceful. you know? i didn't write 14k of porn because i was uncompelled. we were on one. we went fucking crazy. fandom in general but especially big fandoms have a kind of nonstop endless well of creative energy born from obsession that is the absolute envy of people like my mortal enemy grrm. we NEVER quit.

also, HISTORY (and other vaguely educational subjects). we were all so desperate to know how steve and bucky would have lived in the years we couldn't see them it sparked a sitewide interest in 1940s american history. there was a thing about bananas tasting different now because of a plague. m&ms being invented as wartime candy. stuff about how shoebox apartments looked and how rations worked. 1940s recipes and radio shows. the 1940s queer movement and how it interacted with ballroom dancing and private drag get-togethers. how amputations work and how prosthetic limbs work in real life so we could extrapolate it to fantasy. how to hand-draw that fucking arm in photoshop. why soldiers are trained to say their serial numbers when captured. what ww2 was like. what dog tags are for. what did they get in the ration packs. what brand of cigarettes did they smoke. what brand (and i am being so serious, i STILL own a tube) of LIPSTICK did peggy carter use. caloric intake of someone with a 4x speed metabolism and how much famine peanut butter he'd need to eat daily to keep from starving to death. oppression of irish immigrants and their children/grandchildren back in the 1940s. the difference between conservatives and fascists, back when there was a difference. what activities generally took place on these mysterious but ever-present new york city docks. just exactly HOW many terrible movies and tv shows has sebastian stan been in ranked by his resemblance to james buchanan barnes in each one. (i personally went through his entire imdb list at the time and then made a venn diagram.) electroswing! teachers and professors would have killed for their classes to have the kind of enthusiasm a bunch of mentally ill teenagers and 20-somethings on tunglr dot edu were showing about this one very specific set of subjects. this film also sparked my love of fight scenes. if you've read this fic or this fic and liked the Big Fight Scenes in them, you can thank cap2 for leading me down that path.

and then yes there was also discourse. my personal most hated thing was the above mentioned h*dra tr*sh p*rty (DO NOT GOOGLE THAT, i will just tell you it's nazi rape porn🤢 and i hope everyone involved is having a bad day today) and also the fact that SOME FUCKING PEOPLE can't understand "don't be shitheads about a fanfic where the author can see you doing it." but then ofc people were also sexist about nat and racist about sam and minimalizing those guys (and every other character besides tony really but sometimes him too) for the two white male leads was a whole thing. and on the funnier side of things you had (justifiably, i suppose) bitter st*ny fans who HATED what those two got in avengers and got real mad when stucky started outpacing them on ao3. and people complaining about the characters being too uwu soft. and then other people arguing whether or not barnes counted as disabled when he was missing a Whole arm. and THEN discourse about was it ethical to remove the arm and build him a new one ESPECIALLY without his consent (if people don't know they're being ableist in their fanfics hypothetically is it still ok to kill them with hammers?) and why was tony doing it if that guy killed his parents and is it ok that we keep making tony not that mad about his dead parents is it not enough that barnes stole his limelight as the guy who gets shipped with steve but what if all three of them fucked but can you really fuck the guy who offed your folks but ACTUALLY isn't it cringe to like tony anyway since RDJ and gwenyth paltrow are bad people and who says chris evans are sebastian stan are such good people etcetcetc. and let us not even get started on the plausibility of the avengers tower fanon after age of ultron came out and it turns out nobody became friends and they all still hated and mistrusted each other. and whether or not the avengers could be considered found family if the other characters were constantly getting shafted into being barnes's little support animals. and then ofc every once in awhile one of the actors of people involved creatively would say something ranging from mildly controversial to absolutely horrible on the internet and we'd all fight about THAT for awhile like a dog with a bone. i mean. typical infighting of any fandom tbh.

but i was very happy. it was all the most enormous thought experiment and creative endeavor (and semi-educational adventure??) that we all participated in daily for like two-ish years without stopping ever. i loved doing it. AND, when you click with a piece of media like that, you also click with other people who clicked with that same piece of media, so in addition to the sheer level of dopamine going into my brain at all times i also formed decade-long friendships that will certainly last the entirety of my lifetime, and when we're in our 90s in nursing homes i will be able to say, "we are friends because i wrote 14k of smut for your fanfic" or "we are friends because i couldn't get enough of your gifsets" or whatever because you know, we quite literally went to stucky together.

#liz answers asks #anonymous #personal

13 notes · View notes

transiplier-art · 11 months

Text

FINALLY got around to taking these photos but i finished my cosplay of virgil’s “Nightmare” costume from @manyfandomsonelog ‘s fic “what you can stand” on ao3 (i say it alot but please go read it if you haven’t it’s one of my favourite fics and i love it so much log is an amazingly talented writer)

more info + designs under the cut

this project took far longer then it needed too and i mostly have myself to blame but i made the mask and the cape myself, i might do more photos in this if i can convince my friends to help me but no promises

here’s the my lil design pages i made almost a full year ago

this was me stepping back into making cosplays again after not making one in 4 years and it was super fun and a cape made for a simple project to ease into and hopefully i’ll finally get around to making remus’ cannon outfit like i said i would,,,, definitely,,, happening soon,,,,

also half of a face reveal??? how scandalous

#i did have photos with my full face which looked more like virgil bc i could show off the makeup i did #but tumblr doesn’t get those i’m afraid #sanders sides #sanders sides cosplay #ts virgil #virgil sanders #what you can stand #virgil argus

49 notes · View notes

august-anon · 1 year

Text

Let Your Hair Down

I finished this in December of 2021 and somehow never posted it lol

----------

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins

Ship(s): PRE - Alistair/Warden (F)

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Warden/Ler!Alistair

Word Count: 2105 words

Summary: The group never took breaks, never lingered, never rested, never took a breath, always moving toward the next target. The only moment they slowed was in camp, and that was only with their bodies, not so much with their minds. Maybe they could all use some fun.

[ao3 link]

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

The Warden shook some of the water from her hair with her hands, combing through it roughly with her fingers to get the worst tangles out before starting to pull it up into the style she usually wore it in. She flinched as a voice spoke behind her, despite the fact that she was normally far more aware of her surroundings than that.

“Don’t you ever leave your hair down?” Alistair asked.

Alistair did have a way of worming his way past her defenses.

“It’s more practical to wear up,” she replied, dropping her hands and letting her damp hair tumble down her back again. “Can’t exactly go around killing darkspawn with a curtain of hair in the way.”

He settled on the ground next to her where she had kneeled down by the fire, hoping for the heat to dry her hair faster. “Well, we aren’t killing darkspawn right now.” He tilted his head to the side. “Leliana wears her hair down to fight darkspawn.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Leliana’s hair is shorter, and she’s an archer. Why do you want me to wear my hair down so badly?”

He cleared his throat, looking away from her. It was hard to tell by only the firelight, but she swore he looked a little red. She smothered a grin.

“I just– think it would look nice, is all,” he stammered out. “A nice change. Everyone needs a change every once in a while. Not that I’m telling you to change–”

She couldn’t help it anymore. She tossed her head back with a laugh. “Don’t strain yourself.”

He pouted at her. She grinned and leaned toward him, watching his eyes go wide, before ducking her head and shaking it. Her hair was still decently wet, and Alistair flinched back with a yelp, raising his hand to shield his face.

“Why are you wet?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because, Alistair. Some of us actually bathe.”

He put a hand over his heart. “Are you saying I smell? You know, I actually take offense to that.”

“Good,” she said. “Maybe it’ll actually get you to take a bath.”

“I do bathe!” Alistair said, reaching out to slide his hand up into the underside of her hair and shake it out. “You just… aren’t around when I go off to do that.”

She squeaked and jolted away from his hand, rolling her shoulders. She tried to save face and move right on, hoping Alistair wouldn’t mention it. “Really? When am I not around, Alistair.”

Unfortunately, Alistair was not fooled. “What was that?”

She rubbed the back of her neck, where the ghostly touch of his fingertips still lingered. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Alistair grinned, leaning in a little. “Oh, come on, now. Aren’t we friends?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Something tells me you’ve already figured out what it was, and I will not subject myself to the embarrassment of telling you.”

He chuckled a little. “Come on, everyone’s at least a little ticklish. I bet even Sten is. There’s no reason to get so defensive about it.”

The Warden continued to glare at him, sliding slowly to the other side of the log.

“See, you look at me like that, but now I have the perfect tidbit of information to get you to smile.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you sure you don’t want to just give up now?”

She smirked at him. “Oh, Alistair. You should know by now. I never give up.”

She launched herself off the log, sprinting around the fire and toward the treeline. Her sudden movement unfortunately made their little tussle quite obvious to everyone else in camp, and she could feel their eyes on her. Glancing over her shoulder, the Warden saw Alistair close on her heels, fingers wiggling threateningly.

Yeah, there was no way their friends hadn’t figured out exactly what was going on already. Except maybe Sten. Were Qunari even capable of being ticklish? She shook the thought out of her head. She needed to focus.

Apparently, she caught herself too late. She tripped over something – an outstretched leg, likely, they weren’t close enough to the trees for her to have tripped over any roots (based on Leliana’s bright laughter nearby, the Warden had an idea of who it might have been) – and crashed to the ground. She didn’t bother trying to scramble up, instead she rolled over and started crab-walking backwards, one hand raised protectively in front of her.

“Alistair,” she said, a warning note in her voice.

He grinned down at her, his hands still raised in threatening claws, though his eyes softened. “If you ask nicely, I might be persuaded to have mercy.”

The Warden’s mouth twisted. He was giving her an easy out. She was going to get tickled either way, that was for certain now after they put on this whole show in front of everyone, but he was offering up mercy. The question was, did she want it.

They were in the middle of the end of the world. The Warden hadn’t gotten a decent night of sleep since she’d left home with Duncan, and she doubted many of her companions were having a good time of it, either. They never took breaks, never lingered, never rested, never took a breath, always moving toward the next target. The only moment they slowed was in camp, and that was only with their bodies, not so much with their minds.

Maybe they could all use some fun.

But only a little bit.

“You think I’m scared of you?” The Warden taunted. “You’re like a giant teddy bear. You think this is a threat?”

Alistair gave a low chuckle. “I’ll admit, I never had much time for practicing fun and games, what growing up in the Chantry and all, but you, my dear, should be very afraid.”

The Warden’s eyes widened as he lunged at her, and she tried to roll away. Alistair managed to catch her around the waist and pull her back, pinning her down to the grass underneath him. She tried to catch his hands and spared a moment to glance at his position, straddling her. She smirked.

“Maker, Alistair, buy a lady dinner first,” she said, and grinned when his face suddenly went bright red. He always made it too easy.

He started stammering excuses and apologies, and she managed to slip out from under him while he was busy being flustered. Despite all the teasing Morrigan dished out, Alistair wasn’t stupid, and he caught on to her plan the second she slipped out of his grip.

“Oh, you little minx,” Alistair called after her, and was chasing her again in an instant.

She wasn’t so quick, this time, too busy watching her feet and steering clear of their other companions to avoid falling again. Really, it was just to give her an excuse to be slower, to allow Alistair to catch up without being obvious about it. She was built to be quick and sneaky, he was built to stand strong and defend. If she didn’t give him the victory here, he may not have gotten it otherwise.

Alistair caught the Warden around the waist once more, tugging her back into his chest. She put up a struggle against his grip, and while she knew she could easily slip from it had she wanted to, she allowed him to wrap her tight in his arms, his fingertips resting just against the fleshy parts of her sides.

“Any last words?” He asked her.

The Warden made a show of giving a last few struggles against him. Then, she turned her head to glare up at him over her shoulder. “My revenge will be swift and unforgiving.”

Alistair just laughed at her, and then his fingers dug in and she was the one who was laughing. She started to fight his grip for real, then, but was just as unsuccessful as before, now that she was weakened from her laughter. She pushed back against his chest instead, as if that would in any way bring her further away from his fingers.

She could hear Zevran laugh nearby, closer to the fire. “My friend! How is it that none of us knew you were so ticklish?”

The Warden couldn’t move around much in Alistair’s grip, and she wasn’t going to waste the air she needed for her laughter on telling Zevran off. What she could do, however, was wrench one of her arms away from where she’d been trying to tug Alistair’s hands off of her and flip Zevran the bird. She heard him laugh once more.

Raising her arm turned out to be very much an incorrect choice, however, as Alistair immediately took the opening. His fingers dove into the newly exposed spot, wiggling and scratching away. The Warden shrieked and slammed her arm back down against her side, but it did nothing to protect her against the hand that was already there.

“Sorry,” Alistair said into her ear, “does that tickle?”

She squealed again and tried to twist her body out of his grip. She managed to get loose, and started to make another break for it, but Alistair was a lot more coordinated than her at the moment, considering he hadn’t just been the subject of a tickle attack. He grabbed her arm before she’d even taken two steps and pulled her back in, this time holding her so they were chest to chest.

At first, she thought it was a blessing. After all, it at least protected her stomach and a few other spots, right? But then, his hands started randomly skittering up and down the Warden’s back and a gasp tore from her throat. She burst into childish giggles, squirming every which way with no idea on how to escape. She didn’t even know she was ticklish on her back, let alone to this degree.

Alistair hummed, and she could feel the vibration through his chest. “You seemed the type,” he said, quietly enough to be only for her ears. “I had a friend in templar training who was ticklish here.”

She shook her head and buried her face into his chest, trying to muffle the embarrassing giggles into his shirt. The Warden laughed. The Warden laughed and chuckled and scoffed and huffed, but the Warden did not giggle. She could feel her face growing warm with her embarrassment, desperately trying to reach behind her to stop his hands, but she couldn’t reach. She pushed forward against his chest to try and lean away from his devious fingers, but he had no give in front of her, and his fingers easily followed every arch and jerk of her back.

She wondered if the option of mercy was still on the table.

“Please,” she ground out between her hysterical giggles, digging her fingers desperately into his shirt. “Alistair!”

He chuckled, and she flinched away from his breath on her ear. Even that was too ticklish for her, now. “First,” he said, “you have admit to me that you wanted this.”

She jerked in his grip. “What?!”

“Just to me,” he hummed. “But you think I don’t know what you look like when you’re actually fighting back, after all this time together?”

Well now her blush wasn’t just from the embarrassing giggling. She gave it another bout of fighting first, trying to tear herself out of his arms, but her legs could barely hold her up anymore, they were so shaky from her laughter. There was no possible way she was going to break free from this, not without Alistair letting her go.

“Fine!” She hissed, trying to keep her words quiet and lost in her giggling so that the rest of their companions wouldn’t hear. “Fine, I let you catch me!”

“Why?”

“I thought it would be fun! Alistair, come on!”

He chuckled and stopped his tickling, holding her tight when she sagged against him. She gripped at one of his arms, glaring up at him in warning.

“And was it?” He asked.

She twisted her lips, trying to force the involuntary smile off of them. “Maybe.”

She pulled herself out of his grip, reached up to tug the tangles out of her hair once more. Alistair dropped his arm around her shoulders and led them back toward the fire.

“Leave it down tonight?” He asked.

The Warden pursed her lips. “Fine. But just for tonight!” She danced out of his grip to flick Zevran on the ear for his teasing. “And Alistair?”

“Yes?” He asked, drawing out the word.

“Sleep with one eye open.”

#tickle fic #my writing #dragon age tickling #lee!warden #ler!alistair #ticklish!warden #dragon age #dao #alistair theirin #The Warden #alistair x warden

30 notes · View notes

marmorafarms · 3 months

Text

Does anyone read Gravity Falls fic still? Well I hope so because I'm writing one!

Friday I'm In Love

Ch 1

Rating: Teen+ (PG 13)

Pairing: Stan Pines/OC

Summary: When Elfie comes to Gravity Falls to help her friend propose, she wasn't expecting to experience the wildest summer of her life. With the return of demonic forces imminent, Elfie must band together with the Pines family, and finds love along the way.

You can also find the fic here on ao3!

“This is a stupid plan for butt faces,”

“Mabel, when will you understand that just because you don’t agree with a plan doesn’t make it inherently bad?” Dipper said, shaking his head at his twin sister. She was sitting on a log, glaring at the ground while Dipper fiddled around with a strange gadget. It looked exactly like a smart watch, but the words appearing on screen were odd sigils rimmed with red.

“I just think this could hurt someone if you’re not careful. And you and Grunkle Ford are never careful,” Mabel grumbled.

��That’s not true!” Dipper said. “Look, all it does is summon the last person to touch it. Other than me of course, because I’ve calibrated it to me, therefore I can’t summon myself if I’m holding it. The last person to hold it was Grunkle Ford. So when I press this button, Grunkle Ford will appear.”

“Are you sure that’s who had it last?” Mabel said nervously. “He set it down near the register in the Mystery Shack. What if someone else picked it up? You could be snatching someone from their family!”

“Mabel, just trust me. I know what I’m doing. And a one and a two and a…” the teenage boy pressed a button, and there was a sudden flash of blue light.

“And here we have Grunkle…wait what?!”

—

One second ago, Elfie had been mindlessly chatting with her best friend Melody in the parking lot of a place called The Mystery Shack. And now? Here she was, standing in the middle of the woods with two teenagers goggling at her.

“Do I need to up my meds?” Elfie said, looking around. “Where am I? What’s going on?”

“Dipper what did I tell you?!” the young girl said, turning to the boy next to her. “This lady here touched it last! And she’s freaked out because of your koo-koo-bananas machine doodad! You have to send her back!”

“I don’t know how!” the boy who seemed to be named Dipper said frantically.

“Are either of you Melody?” Elfie asked tentatively.

“You’re okay ma’am,” the girl said, standing up and brushing herself off. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to up your meds! Probably.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dipper said. “Um. Well. Did you happen to be at a place called the Mystery Shack recently?”

The brown haired boy looked very worried, his aviator hat askew. He quickly adjusted it and began to pace back and forth while the girl who must be his sister began to chastise him. Elfie took a moment to look around, before spying a sign shaped like an arrow, with a green question mark sloppily painted on. Okay. That was something she recognized. All she needed to do was ground herself and then—

“You must’ve been at the Mystery Shack, otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now. For some reason, you grabbed this, and now you’re in the woods with us.”

“I was in the parking lot just now,” Elfie finally said. “And then I disconnected from reality because there’s no way I just teleported.”

“Oh no, you totally teleported,” the girl said. “My brother here created a thingy that teleports people! Kinda cool, kinda messed up, but don’t worry! You’re fine. The Mystery Shack is down the road a bit. I’m Mabel, and the guy who messed up your day is Dipper!”

“I didn’t mess up her day!” Dipper said angrily. “Did I?”

“Okay, let’s say this is actually happening,” Elfie said, rubbing her temples with her fingers. “That means that my friend who is about to propose to her boyfriend is now probably freaking out. In the parking lot. Alone. At least she’ll be able to go into the store and find her boyfriend.”

“Why wasn’t he with you?” Dipper asked, frowning. “Was she really going to propose to him in a lame tourist trap?”

Elfie glared at the boy. “It’s not lame!” she said, stamping her foot like a child. “Her boyfriend owns the shack, so you better watch it kid.”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged shocked expressions, and turned to her, wonder in their eyes.

“Is her boyfriend Soos?” Mabel said slowly.

“That’s Jesùs Ramirez to you,” Elfie said with a sniff. “Or Mr. Mystery I suppose.”

“No, we call him Soos all the time!” Mabel said. “You’re friends with Melody? Dipper, how come you didn’t connect the dots?”

“What? Me?” Dipper said, annoyed. “What about you?”

“I’m not good at piecing all the puzzely things together,” Mabel said. “You’re the one who does that.”

“Look,” Dipper said, turning to Elfie. “Soos is one of my—“

“OUR!” Mabel interrupted with a shout.

Dipper sighed. “One of our best friends in town. Yes he’s eighteen years older than us, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is—wait did you say Melody is going to propose?”

Elfie sighed. This day was going to hell in a hand basket very fast. But if these kids were telling the truth, getting back to Melody, and more importantly getting to where she had been trying to go, would be a snap. She really needed to get to her friend and help her with the proposal. They had a whole plan and everything!

“Yeah she is,” Elfie said. “And I need to be there to make sure it goes off without a hitch. But I guess things going perfectly to plan isn’t happening anymore.”

"We have to get you back!” Mabel said, slapping her hands to her face. “Where’s the golf cart? We need to get Soos engaged!”

Before she knew it, Elfie found herself zooming through the underbrush of the forest, ducking her head every few seconds when a branch passed by. She held on for dear life as they flew over stumps and tree roots. When they finally arrived, Elfie saw Melody in the parking lot. A tall heavy set man that could only be Soos stood next to her, along with two men that looked 30 years her senior.

They all had serious expressions on their face. One of the men wore a long trench coat, and everyone was staring at him as spoke at top speed.

“The logical explanation is that your friend touched the device, and Dipper decided to use it. Don’t worry Melody, we will find her very soon.”

“Maybe sooner than we thought. Is that her?” the other man said in a gravely voice, pointing towards Elfie and the two teens. Elfie swore she was seeing double as she looked at the two men. There were a few distinct differences, but she was definitely looking at a set of identical twins. Elfie’s stomach did a flip as she looked at the twin pointing in her direction.

He was a stocky man wearing a brown leather jacket and a deep frown. His five o’clock shadow was really doing it for her, and she had to look away. Damn her thing for older men.

“Dipper my boy!” the man in the trench coat said, spreading his arms wide. “I’m glad to see you!”

"And I’m glad to see you!” Melody said happily, looking at Elfie.

“You said this town was weird but I wasn’t expecting that,” Elfie said, glancing at Dipper, who was staring at the ground.

“Yeah my brother and Grunkle Ford get up to all kinds of crazy wacko shenanigans,” Mabel said with a laugh. “I’m just glad you’re safe um…uh…what was your name?” In their haste to get back to the shack, Elfie hadn’t had the chance to introduce herself.

“Oh, I’m Elfie,” she said with a smile.

“That’s a cool name!” the teenage girl said.

"It’s a nickname,” Elfie said. “You can thank Melody over here for it. She gave it to me in middle school.”

“Why?” Dipper asked. “I’ll tell you why I go by Dipper if you tell me your actual name.”

“Maybe in a second,” Elfie said. “I need to talk to Melody about something,” she said, giving her friend a pointed look. Melody looked nervous at these words and then sighed.

“I was going to tell you earlier, but then you vanished,” Melody said. “Our…plans…have to wait. Stan and Ford here, as well as Dipper and Mabel, are staying here for a few months, and Soos wants to get them settled in.”

No way. This couldn’t be happening! Elfie and Melody had been planning this for months, and two sets of twins were going to ruin it by staying here?

“Plans?” Soos said frowning. “I thought you two dudes were just gonna tour the Mystery Shack and then get going.”

“We kind of wanted to hang out with you,” Elfie said. “We thought we could go to the lake for a bit.”

“Oh,” Soos said, looking surprised. “Sorry guys, I gotta get them settled in. You’re not leaving today are you? I thought Melody said something about you guys staying for a bit.”

“Elfie is staying with a friend, and I’m staying with my grandma like I do every summer,” Melody said.

“Who’s your friend?” the older man with leather jacket said.

“His name is Dan,” Elfie said, thinking about her lumberjack friend. “Real sweet guy. I’ve missed him.”

For some reason, everyone was silent except for Melody, who was covering a grin with her hand.

“What?” Elfie said. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Did you just say your friend is Manly Dan?” Mabel said with a gasp.

“And did you say he was sweet?” Soos said, cocking his head to the side. “That dude is scary!”

“Dan isn’t scary!” Elfie said, frowning. “He’s a really nice guy. What makes you think he’s not?”

“He broke the town clock by punching it over and over again. That weirdo’s got a screw loose,” the man in the leather jacket said, rolling his eyes.

“Stan!” Mabel said, slapping his shoulder. “Don’t say that!”

“I’m just saying it like it is!” Stan said. “He’s nuts!”

“Wait a second,” Elfie said, narrowing her eyes. “I know you. You’re the founder of this place, I saw a picture of you on the wall of the gift shop.”

“Yep!” Stan said proudly. “I’m—“

“The Mystery hack,” Elfie said, and Stan choked on air. Everyone looked at her with wide eyes, and she continued.

“Stan Pines, right? I’ve heard about you from Dan over the years and I know exactly what kind of man you are. Dan has a screw loose? Hello Pot, my friend’s name is Kettle. Are you really calling him black?”

“Well, wait, I wasn’t trying to—“

“He’s probably worried about me,” Elfie said, sticking her nose in the air. “It was good to meet most of you, but I probably won’t be seeing you.”

“Elfie!” Melody said scandalized. “Don’t be like this!”

Elfie whipped out her phone and began dialing. “I’m calling Dan to pick me up,” she said and stalked off.

“I like her,” Mabel said fondly. “She’s fun.”

—

“I really Stan’d that one up, didn’t I?” Stan said with a sigh, plopping down on the chair that Soos had saved just for him.

“Stanley, when people talk fondly about a friend, you shouldn’t start insulting said friend,” his twin Ford said with a sigh, sitting down on the couch and scrawling something down in a notebook.

“What do you know about friendship?” Stan asked. “You can barely stand to be around anyone in town. Why should I take advice from you?”

“I may not like being around other people, but I do know a thing or two about how people work, unlike you apparently. Considering how that situation went down, I’d say I know a lot more than you,” Ford said.

“She shouldn’t’ve talked to him like that though,” Soos said, entering the room with a bag of potato chips. “Melody said she’s going to do damage control. You guys’ll probably bump into each other sooner or later, this town is pretty small. She wants to make sure Elfie doesn’t stay mad for like, the rest of time.”

“I wasn’t trying to make her mad or nothin’,” Stan said. “It’s just that—“

“That your brain and your mouth aren’t connected!” said a voice from the doorway. Everyone jumped and turned. Mabel was leaning against the door frame, tapping away at her phone.

“Don’t worry, I’m like that too!” she said, walking into the living room. “My mouth sometimes says stuff that my brain hears and goes what?! It’s okay, I’m sure everything will be fine. Soos, do you know how long she’ll be staying here for?”

“Sorry dawg, I don’t know,” Soos said with a shrug. “Melody just said she’ll be here for “a bit” and I don’t know what that means.”

“Hopefully for a while!” Mabel said happily, turning the TV on. “She seems cool. Dipper likes her too, don’t you Dip Dop?” Mabel shouted into the hallway.

“Can you not call me that?” Dipper said, emerging from the kitchen with a can of Pitt Cola.

“Only if you tell them what you said about Elfie,” Mabel said with a giggle.

“W-what? I didn’t say anything!” Dipper said quickly, face flushing.

“You said she looks like a super m—“

“A super great person who is not anything more than just a super great person,” Dipper said, clapping a hand over his sister’s mouth. “What are you all looking at?” he asked the group.

“Was Mabel about to say super model?” Soos asked, sitting down next to Ford.

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter!” Dipper said angrily. “Look, okay, maybe I think she’s pretty, but I didn’t say anything else.”

“Yeah he did,” Mabel said smirking.

“Eh, makes sense,” Stan said with a shrug. “She’s a pretty lady. But she’s also an adult so don’t be weird about your new summer crush.”

“I don’t have a summer crush!” Dipper said, voice cracking. “You guys suck!”

“Wait, Stan!” Mabel said, looking at him with big eyes. “You think she’s pretty too?”

“Well. I mean, yeah. She’s objectively good looking. Pretty face, and a nice—“

“Choose your next words very carefully,” Ford said tersely without looking up from his writing. Just as Stan was about to fire back, Soos’ phone buzzed.

“Oh dudes, it’s Melody!” Soos said, reading the message. “She says she managed to convince Elfie not to uh…gouge Stan’s eyes out with a rusty spoon? That’s weirdly specific.”

“Yeesh, this lady is crazy, no wonder she’s friends with Dan,” Stan said shaking his head.

“A beautiful woman who threatens you with violence? Sounds like every woman you flirt with,” Ford said shaking his head. “You like crazy.”

“Yeah, but those were one night—“

“Aaand that’s our cue to leave,” Dipper said, yanking Mabel to her feet.

“Awww…” Mabel said sadly, but let her brother lead her out of the room.

“Look Soos. I’m sorry I got your girl’s friend mad. But she’s fine now, right? All’s well that ends well,” Stan said looking at Soos.

“Mr. Pines, I’m not sure everything went well. Sure she’s not going to like, murder you, but maybe you should apologize.”

A booming laugh sounded from beside the young man. Ford was wiping a tear from his eye as he laughed, journal falling to the floor.

“Stanley apologizing? That’s a good one.”

“I just said sorry to Soos,” Stan grumbled, “It’s not like I’m incapable of it.”

“Your apology amounted to “sorry I did a bad thing but who cares because it’s better now” which is a terrible one,” Ford pointed out. “Sincerely apologizing for hurting the feelings of someone and trying to get that person to be on good terms with you? That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of!” Stanley said, annoyed. “I could apologize to her right now. Gimme the phone Soos.”

“Over the phone? Really Stanley? That’s the easy way out. Apologizing in person is something you could never do.”

“Oh I’ll do it!” Stan said, getting to his feet. “Tomorrow morning, I’m going over to Dan’s house and I’ll give the best apology the world has ever seen!” And with that, Stan stormed out of the living room, presumably going to his room to pout.

“Dude. That was amazing,” Soos said, looking at Ford with wide eyes. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Ford said innocently.

“You were right, Stan never apologizes in a real way. But he’s actually gonna do it now! You got him to!”

“Getting my brother to do things is simple,” Ford said, picking his journal up. “All you have to do is piss him off by saying that he can’t do it, and then he will. I got him to investigate a sea monster near Alaska doing just that. We had to dive into the freezing waters, and he didn’t want to. Not until I told him that of course he couldn’t do it. Why would he? Obviously he didn’t have it in him. And then just like that, he put his gear on, and we got that monster taken care of.”

“Wow,” Soos said, eyes wide. “That’s like, super top secret information. I won’t tell a soul!”

“Eh, it’s probably something people should know,” Ford said. “It’ll make everyone’s life easier.”

“I should let Elfie know that Stan’s coming over in the morning,” Soos said, picking up his phone. “And probably send back up just in case she changes her mind about the rusty spoon.”

—

“Manly Dan, eh?” Elfie said, bustling around the kitchen to help Dan make dinner. Dan looked at her in surprise, eyebrows shooting up.

“Where’d you hear that one from?” he asked.

“Some teenager named Mabel,” Elfie said as she coated some asparagus in olive oil. “If things hadn’t been so strange today, I would’ve laughed.”

“What, you don’t think I’m manly?” Dan said good naturedly. “These muscles ain’t enough to prove it?” the red haired lumberjack said, flexing for his friend.

“Hmm. Not convinced,” Elfie said, and Dan sighed dramatically.

“I’m the manliest in town,” Dan said. “That’s how I got the name. Even manlier than the manotaurs.”

“Than the what?” Elfie asked as she began to close the oven door.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dan said nervously. “Just a joke.”

“No no no,” Elfie said, wagging a finger. “There’s something up with this town. What’s a manotaur?”

“Nothing’s up with this town,” Dan said firmly, putting a steak in a pan. “Why would you think that?”

“That girl Mabel? Well her brother teleported me from the Mystery Shack.” Elfie began to recount her day to Dan, who listened in stony silence. His face was unreadable, but Elfie didn’t seem to be paying attention. She was too busy ranting about Stan.

“Can you believe he said that?” Elfie said. “I wanted to punch him.”

“Elfie, you’re doing it again,” Dan said, putting some rosemary in the pan.

“Doing what?” Elfie asked, hand on her hip.

“Going wild over something small. Was that a big problem, or a little problem?” Dan asked. Elfie looked to the side, and her shoulders sagged.

“A little one,” she grumbled.

“Everyone thinks I’m a bit crazy,” Dan said. “It doesn’t bother me though because everyone in this town is a bit crazy. But Stan is alright. He saved the town once.”

“Really?” Elfie said skeptically.

“Really,” Dan said. “And he gave my daughter a job before she went off to college.”

“How’s Wendy doing by the way?” Elfie asked.

“She’s great,” Dan said with a wide smile. “I’m proud of that kid. She’ll be a sophomore in college come fall term. Gets straight A’s, even in classes she swears she’s gonna fail.”

“Cindy would be proud,” Elfie said. Dan stopped what he was doing for a moment, and then smiled at Elfie.

“I think she would. You know, you two were like peas in a pod. Probably why we all got along so well.” Dan said, a sad smile on his face.

“She used to call me an honorary red head from how firey I am,” Elfie said, playing with a lock of her dark brown hair. “I’m glad everything is going well. Are we going to make the trip to visit her?”

“Of course. The Valentino’s do a good job taking care of her headstone, but I like to clean it myself sometimes. Place some new flowers down.”

There was a comfortable silence before Elfie spoke again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” Dan said, flipping the steak.

“Why weren’t you shocked when I said Dipper teleported me?”

“That boy is a friend of Wendy’s,” Dan said. “They met when he was 12. If there’s one thing I know about him, it’s that you should always expect the unexpected with him.”

“Does he know what a manotaur is?” Elfie asked casually.

“I think so,” Dan said. “Look they’re basically a minotaur with the power of toxic masculinity. They have dumb thoughts about what being a man is about. I try and teach the boys that being a man isn’t about being strong or mean or something like that. It’s about what’s inside. Being your own man isn’t about being aggro all the time, and nobody should think like that.”

“True,” Elfie said. “Where are they by the way?”

“They’re staying the night with some friends,” Dan said.

“All three?” Elfie asked surprised. Dan nodded.

“They’ll be back tomorrow. Marcus has been talking my ear off about how great it will be for me to have a friend, and Gus and Kevin have been speculating about gifts.”

Elfie laughed and shook her head. “Your boys know me too well. I did in fact bring them some stuff.”

“I think Marcus is right though,” Dan said casually. “I’m glad to have my best friend back.”

“Aww,” Elfie said, leaning against his shoulder. “You’ve got friends here though, right?”

“I have been getting to know Stan’s brother Ford,” Dan said slowly.

“Oh have you?” Elfie asked, an impish smile on her face.

“Not like that!” Dan said, swatting at her.

“He’s pretty cute, wouldn’t be surprised if you were,” Elfie said.

“I guess so,” Dan said with a shrug. “You must think Stan’s cute too then. They’re twins after all.”

“I mean…he’s not terrible looking,” Elfie said, pulling the asparagus out of the oven. Dan leveled her with a look, and Elfie sighed.

“Alright fine, he’s really hot. But! I’m still mad at him. So that docks him like, 100 hotness points.”

“You’ve always had a thing for the elderly,” Dan said.

“He’s not elderly!” Elfie said, slapping his shoulder. “He’s like, 65, max.”

“Which makes him over 30 years older than you,” Dan said.

“It’s not like I’m trying to date him,” Elfie said.

“Nah, you’d just be trying to fuck him,” Dan said, and Elfie almost dropped the plate of steak and asparagus that Dan had handed to her.

“You are so lucky your kids aren’t home,” Elfie said.

“Am I wrong?” he asked as they sat down at the dining table.

“I’m not answering that,” Elfie said, stabbing a piece of meat.

"That tells me all I need to know,” Dan said, leaning back in his chair. He handed Elfie a soda, and cracked open a can of beer for himself.

“Ooo, you splurged on the name brand stuff,” Elfie said, taking a drink.

“Anything for you, doll,” Dan said.

After dinner, Elfie walked to the spare bedroom and changed into her pajamas. Dan had been right, she had completely overreacted. But she couldn’t stand her friends being made fun of. She knew exactly how that went, and wasn’t going to stand for it. Right as she was about to turn the lamp off, her phone buzzed.

Hey emmy elf!

It was Melody.

Hey! What’s up?

She and Melody chatted about nothing for awhile. Just as Elfie was about to tell her she needed to get some shut eye, Melody sent a long message.

Look, I wanted to talk about earlier. Stan was out of line, but you kinda blew up at him. I think maybe it’d be better if we all just made friends and forgot about what he said. The town is really small, and there really isn’t a lot to do. You’re going to run into him at some point, and I don’t want any bad blood between you guys. Stan is like a father to Soos, and I think it’d be good if we were all friends.

Elfie sighed. Melody had a point.

Yeah okay, I won’t gouge his eyes out with rusty spoon, I promise.

She flipped her phone over and closed her eyes. This town was crazy, but hopefully she could learn to love it. Elfie dreamed of being captured by a giant minotaur who kept saying weird disrespectful things about women. Her dream continued, and Stan showed up to save the day. When Elfie woke up, she was slightly annoyed that the best part of the dream had been interrupted. Oh well. Sliding out of bed, she was about to grab her clothes and go take a shower when there was a knock on the door.

“Hold on!” Elfie said. She opened the door and saw Dan standing in the doorway.

"Someone’s here to see you,” he said with a big yawn.

“Is it Melody?” Elfie asked.

“Soos and…well you’ll see,” Dan said.

A feeling of dread washed over her, and Elfie walked to the front door. She flung it open to find Soos and Stan at the doorstep, both pointedly looking away from her.

Fuck.

She was wearing a tight tank top and mini shorts, both of which left little to the imagination. Slightly embarrassed, but willing to hold her ground, Elfie cleared her throat.

“Do you need something?” she asked.

“Stan wanted to talk to you,” Soos said.

Stan was looking at the ground, seeming to regret his choice to come here.

“I just wanted to talk about yesterday,” Stan said. “But uh, maybe I should come back later.”

“Give me one second,” Elfie said, and quickly rushed back in to her house. She caught the words “…take her to the diner” right before she closed the door. Today was shaping up to be something interesting.

#gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #oc x canon

5 notes · View notes

mollybecameanengineer · 1 year

Text

Incubo

Summary: The week before Scully goes on maternity leave, she and Mulder head to New Jersey to investigate a series of suspicious deaths. However, neither of them could have predicted how personal it would become.

word count: 7686 | Teen | MSR | @today-in-fic

Read on AO3 or check out the first chapter below the break

This is part of an episodic series called A Second Chance. All the episodes are collected, in order, using AO3’s series feature. The concept of the series is to rewrite seasons 8 and 9. It deals with Mulder’s return from the dead, the birth of William, and Mulder and Scully trying to juggle family life with impending doom.

If you don’t want to read the whole thing, but want to read this story, here is what you need to know…

Previously on A Second Chance: Mulder has returned to the living. Scully is pregnant with what she believes to be their child, but Mulder has doubts. However, he has publicly acknowledged the child. Mulder and Scully are now living together. Since he was declared dead, Mulder had to be re-hired by the FBI, rather than having a job to come back to. Reyes has been partnered with Doggett since This Is Not Happening.

Chapter 1

Today was Mulder’s first day back at the FBI – and it wasn’t going well.

He and Scully had gone back and forth about him starting before or after the baby was born. But after the debacle with the oil rig, he wanted his badge back. When he’d received his official offer, he filled out the paperwork and requested to start as soon as possible, though it meant he’d have to take unpaid leave when the baby came.

But now that he was sitting at his desk (or Scully’s desk, he wasn’t sure who had ownership at this point), trying to log on to the computer so he could do hours of mandatory trainings, he questioned why he had been in such a hurry.

Glaring at the screen, he tried again:

username: fmulder

password: tru5tn015cully

The computer told him, yet again, that his username and password weren’t recognized.

If it had been just him and Scully in the office, he would have been cursing and possibly kicking the trash can by now. But with Doggett and Reyes quietly typing away at their desks, he felt like he had to restrain himself.

Scully came over and started looking through the file cabinet. She was wearing loose pants, a sweater, and flat dress shoes – all concessions to being 36 weeks pregnant. Whenever she was near, he wanted to reach out and touch her, caress her stomach. He didn’t understand why this was – before he had been abducted, he’d liked to touch her. But now it felt like more of a compulsion. He chalked it up to evolution. He was trying to possess or protect his mate, or some such crap.

Again, he wished Doggett and Reyes would get out of his office, so he could hold her.

“Why aren’t you doing those trainings?” Scully asked, glancing at his computer screen.

“The stupid thing won’t let me log on.”

Scully came over and leaned against the desk. She looked uncomfortable. It was probably a good thing this was her last week at work, before maternity leave. Mulder didn’t relish the idea of weeks in the office without her, though she thought it might give him a chance to bond with Reyes and Doggett.

Maybe he could convince Skinner that four of them in this office was two too many. Though maybe he should also lay low, because his boss had done some fancy finagling to get a fourth agent assigned to the X-FIles.

Scully looked at his computer, then down at his onboarding paperwork. “That isn’t your username anymore.” She pointed to the paper. There, clear as day, it said his email was [email protected].

“They changed my email?”

Reyes spun around in her chair. Evidently she’d been listening. (All the more reason to get the interlopers out of their office.) “I just sent you an email. It’s fmulder, right?”

“It was,” Mulder replied.

“It didn’t bounce back. Let me check the directory.” Reyes turned back to her computer, while Mulder typed in the new username. This time it worked, he was in. He started up Outlook, and waited for the emails to load.

Scully had gone back to her rummaging (he wondered what she was looking for). He was half watching her, half looking at Outlook, when Reyes spoke again. “Um, Agent Mulder? I think you have a problem.”

For a moment he thought she was talking about his staring at Scully, but then he saw she was still looking at her computer.

“What is it?” Scully asked, walking over to Reyes.

“There’s two Fox Mulders.”

Mulder joined them. Sure enough, in the directory, there was him, with his picture from 1986 and fmulder email, and then him again, with the picture he took this morning, and his new fwmulder email.

Scully looked up at him, smirking. “What do you think? Doppelgangers? Alien Bounty Hunters?”

Doggett spun around in his chair. “Well, whichever Mulder you are, I think we have a case.”

-----

Doggett and Reyes had left for New Jersey several hours ago, leaving Scully and Mulder (who was still doing trainings) behind. They had asked Mulder if he wanted to come along, but he’d declined. Scully wasn’t surprised. A man had shot himself in the head – it didn’t seem like an X-File.

“Six down, two to go, Scully,” Mulder said, making a show of closing the window on his computer.

She gave him a fake smile and a thumbs up. He’d been announcing stuff like this ever since Doggett and Reyes left.

He seemed more himself once they were gone. She understood that Mulder was protective of their space, but at some point he was going to have to accept that the X-Files wasn’t just them anymore. Scully viewed the inclusion of Reyes and Doggett as a good thing, particularly with the baby on the way. She didn’t know how else she and Mulder could keep the X-Files open.

“Hey Scully,” Mulder called to her, already clicking through his next training. “Did you know that the videos that aren’t mine that used to be here is a type of sexual harassment?”

She looked up. “Yes. You didn’t?”

He shook his head.

Scully was surprised. “You actually thought it was appropriate that they were here?”

“Well, no, I guess not. I never thought about it.”

Scully sighed. For an intelligent man, he was oblivious sometimes.

“Did you feel harassed?” Mulder asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

Scully considered his question. At the time, eight years ago, she hadn’t felt harassed by the porn. She had thought of it more as a concession to being in a male dominated field. She had been much more bothered when her co-workers tried to touch her or called her ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart.’ Or the hundreds of ways they excluded or belittled her. A little porn had been low on her list of grievances.

But that didn’t mean that she had been totally comfortable with its presence.

She tried to distill her complex thoughts. “I thought it was unprofessional, but I wasn’t offended.”

Mulder, looking appeased, turned back to his computer. “Actually,” he said, scrolling, “we do a lot of the things on this list.”

“It’s only harassment if it’s unwelcome.”

He playfully leered at her. “Oh, so you welcome my,” he turned back to the computer, “aggressively asking you out on dates?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mulder, you’ve never asked me out on a date, aggressively or not.”

He stood, and came over to where she was sitting. He leaned down, invading her personal space. “Well, maybe I thought you’d think it was harassing…”

“Why don’t you try and find out?”

Her lips were on his before he could respond. Though it was wildly inappropriate for them to be making out at work, Scully figured some light fooling around couldn’t hurt anything. Mulder had just started kissing her neck when they were interrupted by the phone.

“Scully, I’m pretty sure that was sexual harassment, but I’m not sure who was harassing whom,” he said, as he returned to his desk to answer the phone. “Mulder.” He paused, then said, “Hold on, I’m going to put you on speaker.” Mulder pushed a button, hung up the phone, and said, “Ok, go ahead.”

Doggett’s voice came through the phone. “Like I was saying, this body is pretty weird. The ME can’t make heads or tails of how a man was shot in the head but there isn’t any sign of a firearm being used.”

Scully stood, and joined Mulder. “You mean there isn’t any powder residue?”

“Not just that,” Doggett replied. “There’s an entry wound, but no exit. Yet the ME couldn’t find a bullet.”

Scully exchanged a look with Mulder. “That is odd.”

“That’s what we were thinking. Look I don’t know if you can, but getting your insight on this one would be a real benefit, Agent Scully.”

“Can you send the body here?” Mulder asked.

“It probably won’t get here before I go out on leave,” Scully cut in before Doggett could reply. “It’s only a four hour drive to New Jersey. We can leave after my doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”

“We’d really appreciate it,” Doggett said.

Mulder shrugged. “If you think you can make the trip.”

Scully nodded and after making arrangements with Doggett, Mulder hung up the phone.

“This reminds me of that man from Nevada–”

“Crump,” Mulder interrupted. “Mr. Crump. Do you think the military is testing those radio waves again?”

Scully shrugged. It was possible. Though if they were, she hoped it ended better than last time.

Keep reading on AO3

#x files fanfic #msr

21 notes · View notes

thecagedbard · 4 days

Text

Oh Look, another Tav story! This is currently posted over on AO3 in its entirety but I thought I’d post it to tumblr as well. If you’d like to sneak a peak at some of the chapter names, if you don’t want to read the whole thing yet, have a listen to the title playlist: here. There is also just the ‘Here’s what I was listening to while writing' playlist, and my Faetrala Uncaged playlist which serves as inspiration for Vesper’s siblings. A lot of the songs tend to overlap but who knows, you might find one you enjoy.

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Astarion/Tav (Vesper), Astarion/Halsin, Astarion/Halsin/Tav(Vesper); Mentions of Karlach/Shadowheart/Wyll; Mentions of Gale/AFAB OC

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Canon Divergence, Child Death

Word count: 12,986/300,000+

Summary: Vesper needed someone to protect her from an abusive husband should he appear after she was abducted by mind flayers. Astarion needed someone to fall for him so he had protection from Cazador. He's got two hundred years of manipulation and she has the soft heart of a lamb being led to slaughter. While subconsciously healing each other they both realize they also need to heal the druid of all damned people.

Chapter Eight

They stayed on the surface a day longer than necessary. After finding a safe area where they could make camp for the night, they snacked on dry rations and tried to keep warm as the moon rose. Astarion had excused himself to go hunting on his own and while the spawn was gone the other companions had a visitor. The cub from the camp came looking for food. Karlach quickly roused Vesper from her sleep and had the bard talk to the little creature.

Vesper was kneeling before the cub, a hand extended to pet through its feathers when the spawn returned. His appearance alone startled the creature, making it stutter and cry out no before running away. “Aw,” tsked the high elf as he filled the space between the bard and barbarian, “you scared off the little snack.”

“Yeah, it was us…wasn’t it Ves?” Karlach pursed her lips, her arms crossing over her chest. Astarion turned to look at her, a smile ghosting his features, “What?” The tiefling only shook her head before returning to where she’d been trying to sleep.

During her second trial of meditation, a nightmare was projected from the bard to a few of the others, their dreams morphing to view that which haunted the party’s drow. They wouldn’t mention the instance to her directly, though she did catch Shadowheart and Wyll with their heads together as they walked through Ethel’s bog, Gale wouldn’t meet her eyes until after the fight was over, and Karlach kept admonishing Astarion when he would be his normal, bastardly self.

The poison from Ethel’s liar had weakened many of the party, Shadowheart having focused her protection from Poison on Astarion so he could try and disable the vents on the way done–unfortunately, the clouds were so thick in places he just couldn’t find them without kicking the explosive flowers and harming himself, so Vesper asked if they wanted to stay topside one more night before venturing back into the Underdark. No one had declined.

They were a bit braver the second night, Lae’zel joining the bard and Astarion to hunt small animals to cook on the fire. Their makeshift camp wasn’t as quiet or as careful now that they had removed the Hag threat and no one had seen or heard a goblin since demolishing their camp. While the three were gone the other four talked.

“No, no, I saw him as well,” Gale poked at the fire with a stick trying to push the logs closer, “but what did he mean by ‘She’s gone because of you?’ You don’t–” he turned and peered in the direction the others had left in before bending forward, “you don’t suppose she killed someone before all of this?” Karlach’s face blanched, and her eyes rounded, “Vesper? No! No way!”

Shadowheart’s head also shook negatively, “No, you didn’t see her on the nautiloid. There were mindflayer thralls in these chairs in front of my pod. She actually protested when Lae’zel gave them a mercy killing. To even imagine she could kill someone is…” the cleric paused and removed her circlet to trace her fingers along its metal, “no. Her first kills were on that ship. You’d agree, right Wyll, that the first time you take a life it changes you?”

Wyll had been quiet for the most part but when the cleric called to him, he lifted his head and nodded, “For most. I’ve seen changes in her, for certain. Trying to talk her way out of things rather than follow along…I thought she might actually be able to free that woman for a moment.” He scratched at the base of his horns grimacing as his fingers touched the still-new appendages, “I don’t think she’s killed before this adventure. On the battlefield she is still unsure of where to go, looking to whoever is closest to her and sticking by them even if she gets in more danger. I don’t believe for a second she killed whoever this Mariwen is.”

“Mariwen? You heard the name?”

“Wait, you’re certain you heard ‘Mariwen?’”

Wyll looked first at Gale before turning his attention to Shadowheart, “Yes and yes…I–it’s possible I experienced an earlier portion of the dream but she said the name. Sobbing over,” the warlock swallowed hard as the memory of the nightmare flashed over his eyes, “a wrapped babe, she kept saying ‘Please Eilistaree, not Mariwen.’”

Karlach turned to Shadowheart expectantly, “Who’s Mariwen?”

The cleric didn’t get the opportunity to answer the question as thudding footsteps pulled them from their hushed conversation around the fire. Lae’zel and Astarion were the first to enter, the githyanki carried the majority of the weight of the boar they had hunted while Vesper brought up the rear and held up three rabbits, “They wanted me to leave them but I’m kind of hoping that the cub shows up again.”

Gale only gave a nod and pointed to an area for the recent kills to be laid.

Again, Vesper’s rest was interrupted, this time by Astarion alerting her to the cub’s appearance. With Shadowheart’s assistance, they healed the cub's foot and fed him again. When yet another nightmare plagued the sleeping drow it wasn’t broadcasted to the other companions, it instead roused the meditative high elf nearest her. When his eyes jerked open his hands flexed above him, swiping through the empty air. As the bard’s whimper reached his ears yet again he rolled from his back to his stomach and looked around, expecting to see someone hovering over her or even the owlbear bearing down on her. But the only thing that he saw was how her head jerked to the side while her body was rigid.

Silently the rogue slid across the ground and moved the bag he’d been using as a pillow to rest next to hers. He chanced a look at the other companions who snored or muttered in their sleep, no one else took notice. Looking over the bard again he wrinkled his nose as he lifted a hand to push the sweat from her brow, freezing when she leaned toward him. Again he looked to see if any of the others were awake, nothing. Laying down next to the bard, Astarion pushed one of his arms under her head and pulled her close to him, tucking her into his side. When she pushed against him, he began to shush her, “Calm darling,” he whispered, his head bending to reach her ear, “you’re fine. I’ve–” his face scrunched as he tried to recall things he had heard one of his spawn siblings say, “I’ve got you.”

His hand ran the length of her spine until she stilled and her breathing eased. If he was tempted to roll her back to her ‘pillow’ she wouldn’t know, because when the sun rose over their little clearing she awoke with her head still resting against the spawn’s chest.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Halsin was relieved to see them once the party returned, a little surprised by the addition of the owlbear cub, but relieved all the same. “Two days without contact and I was beginning to wonder if I needed to bring everything to the mountain pass,” he motioned to the chest they packed most of their stuff into, “I was just about to start reorganizing to make room for everything. You’re all okay?”

After reassurances from everyone that they were all healthy, Vesper excused herself to set up the alchemy tools and attempt to make a potion that would make them resistant to being poisoned. From where she was she could listen as Karlach told the druid about the dagger they had forged and how Ethel was no longer among the living. “Aha,” Halsin’s uneasy laugh made the bard look up, “Unfortunately you may be surprised to learn that Hags have a failsafe if they ever get injured enough for their forms to die. It’s likely that Ethel has just returned to whatever hell she was born in and after healing she will begin her scheming again.” Karlach’s head fell back as she groaned, “Why can’t evil just stay dead?!”

Vesper turned back from the group to laugh softly. She began picking up the herbs she had, having to keep them from being pulverized since she couldn’t label them. It would be a labor to try to figure this out on her own, a lot of trial and error that they didn’t have the time or resources for. She began muttering the properties of each herb she could remember before hanging her head and sighing in frustration, “Is there something I could, perhaps, help you with?” Halsin’s voice was deep but soft as he crouched next to the drow. She lifted her head and heaved another sigh, “I know there are potions that can make a person pass through poison gases easier, or even keep them from being poisoned at all, but I can’t…I don’t know how to make them.”

The druid smiled and Vesper tilted her head as she gazed at him, “Then it’s a very good thing I brought those books I told you about. Just a moment and I’ll be glad to help you.” Once he returned he took a seat next to the bard and set the book in front of her, “I might be overstepping, but if you would like I could also teach you how to read this yourself. “ Vesper looked at the book, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar words, “I don’t know. I feel like doing this is taking a lot of your time already…”

“Well,” the druid began, his cheeks flushing just a hair, “I fear if I were to leave the camp I would be rushing you to Moonrise. I have something of a goal-oriented mind, and reaching Moonrise Tower is part of my goal at this current time. But I understand that exploration may be a part of your process, so, with that in mind I had intended to stay here and guard your camp. Keep Scratch and now the little cub company I suppose…though I will admit the newest addition does bring a bit of unease.” Vesper lifted a brow as she began setting her supplies to the side, “The cub? We’ll name him soon, I’m–”

“Not the cub…the skeletal man…”

“Who?”

Her head turned as she regarded Halsin before turning to look in the direction the druid now pointed. Bending down she could just make out a figure near Wyll and Gale’s tents, “What do you—”

“I will meet thee again shortly.”

The voice had been so eerie she thought perhaps it was a dream after being resurrected, but as she got to her feet and rounded the corner to look up the hill to the warlock and wizard’s tents there he stood. A skeletal man stood in dark gray robes, a golden cage over the stretched skin on his skull, his arms and legs were wrapped but she could see how the bandaging was falling in places.

He lifted his head from the scroll he held, “Ah, so we meet again.”

She could feel the presence of the others as they walked to stand at her back. She could hear the whispers, but unlike the rest of them, while they felt panic and unease, Vesper felt…comforted. It was an odd feeling, considering how she felt about necromancy, to begin with, but the creature before her simply looked back down at his scroll and continued to count.

“Vesper? Vesper,” she heard Gale calling to her, felt his hand holding her elbow as he gave it a little shake. She turned. “Who is your new friend and why is he making himself comfortable so near mine and Wyll’s tents?” The wizard was tensely smiling, his lips tightly pressed together, “There’s an undead creature near my things, Vesper…”

“We can take him,” she heard Shadowheart and whipped her head in the cleric’s direction, “No!”

The others all looked from the skeletal man to the bard, she saw the hint of amusement on Astarion’s face. “He was there…when I died,” she said as her eyes shifted back to Gale, “he said it wasn’t my time and I think he sent me back.” Gale coughed as he inhaled sharply and nodded, “Right then…I suppose he may remain…I’m claiming one of the bedrolls by the fire just to be…certain.” He turned his head to look at the others and Wyll was nodding, “As am I. No offense to our new…ally,” his voice lilted in question, “but I’d feel more comfortable near the flames tonight as well.”

The undead took no notice of them after his first sentence to Vesper. He did not look up from his list, he did not speak to them, or even motion in their direction. One by one they all walked away. The bard was the last one, staring at the creature for a moment longer before returning to Halsin’s side so he could teach her something new.

With the druid’s help, which she thanked him for multiple times as he would read from the book to correct her on ingredients, she was able to start brewing a resistance potion. “Tomorrow, while you all continue to look for the Nightsong, I will see if I can gather more herbs. I’m almost certain some of the ingredients we’re missing can be found here,” he said as he closed the book and set it aside. “Shadowheart mentioned you were taking first watch?” his questioning tone had the bard turning and her head bobbing in the affirmative, “Then I will offer to take over for a second shift. It will give me time to prepare for the gathering and to make a meal that should sustain you all. And if you’d like you can take my tent, I’ve noticed you are something of a light sleeper at times.”

Vesper groaned for a minute and her head cocked away from him, “Sometimes. I didn’t have an easy time before being abducted, sometimes—” she trailed off as a haunted look took over her face before she shook her head trying to shake the memories away. “But I don’t want to impose…speaking of,” she cleared her throat and leaned to the druid, “I know I was extremely drunk during the celebration a while ago, I wanted to talk about it that next day but…” she gestured to the book.

The druid watched her passively waiting for her to continue. “Uhm, what I mean is,” she had a fleeting memory that had come back to her during a meditation; sitting next to the druid and leaning into him asking him borderline inappropriate questions. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with anything I may have said, or done,” she knew she had laid her head against his shoulder at one point and even commented on how warm he had been. Remembering her actions the drow’s cheeks flushed and she cleared her throat again.

Halsin chuckled, the deep and warm sound chasing the awkward silence that she had left. “In no circumstances would your questions have made me uncomfortable,” he said as he leaned closer, she watched his eyes as they moved down her and she felt a chill sweep through her, “if things had been different or it had been another night I perhaps would have—” he stopped himself as he met her eyes again and realized there was a shift in her. “But that is perhaps a conversation for another time,” he cleared his throat and leaned away, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Vesper.” As her own comfort was called into question her face split into a large smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and she shook her head, “I’m not uncomfortable!”

His mouth turned downward as he nodded to her and tentatively hovered his hand over her shoulder before gently laying it over the fabric of her armor that she had yet to remove. “All the same,” Halsin bowed his head, “tomorrow, if you are willing, I’d like to start your reading lessons.”

“Reading Lessons?”

Vesper swore softly as she jumped at the new voice that had crept up behind them. She had set the alchemy tools away from the campfire, worried that the smell from the potions would bother those trying to rest or to eat; she hadn’t expected anyone to actively choose to come over to her, and yet here was Astarion. Again, heat flooded her face and she felt it travel down her neck.

Turning to look at the vampire she slowly nodded as she tilted her face downward and stared at his shoes. “I can’t read,” she admitted out loud, the second time in a month she had said that sentence. Illiteracy wasn’t something to be ashamed of in the Isles, tutors were expensive and hard to come by back home. But it seemed in Faerun everyone could at least read the common thorass alphabet, something that had been drilled into her by Issac and his ‘friends.’

Astarion was quiet for a moment before she heard the rustle of cloth and his knees came to share her view of his feet, “Why not ask me to teach you?” His fingers found her chin and tugged it upward. She inhaled deeply and looked at Halsin before looking back at him, “I didn’t want to seem like a bigger burden than I am already. I’m not good at fighting and apparently am easily killable,” Astarion’s mouth twitched as she continued, “I hardly seem worth keeping around if I can’t even read.”

Halsin’s head shook, “Don’t say that. You saved a grove full of innocents…you tricked a drow into being in a vulnerable place.” Astarion nodded in agreement, adding, “The druid is right…but,” his gaze shifted away from her, a thought taking his attention into the distance, “do you know your letters? How to sign your name?” The bard’s head shifted from side to side, “I know my letters…but reading and writing weren’t high on the list of priorities for my parents. Rarely anything required me to sign something so I’d just make a mark if I was told to.”

The corner of the vampire’s mouth twisted upward, “Did Issac have you sign anything? Ever?” He dropped the hand holding her chin up as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. “Did your brother, the one who lost the bet, did he write?” there was another moment of thought and Halsin looked between the two.

“If this is a more private conversation I can–”

“Halsin, shh!”

“Octavius learned from a girl in the village. He used to make up poetry and she wanted it written down so she taught him, then he’d sell those same poems…” Vesper said after she thought back to seeing her brother selling sheets of parchment to husbands in the village.

One of Astarion’s knees rested on the ground now and he chuckled, “I may not remember much of my life before Cazador tortured me, but I do recall how the magistrates handled things. Marriages, at least in Baldur’s Gate, had to be registered with a magistrate and both parties had to sign in front of the clerk or a judge. I’m not sure where you and this ‘husband’ of yours lived but—”

“Rivington, just outside of Baldur’s Gate.”

The rogue’s smile lifted more, “And you never signed anything with him?”

She shook her head, “No.” There was a glint in his eye that Vesper didn’t recognize as he clapped his hands together, “That settles it! If there is no record in the courts of Baldur’s Gate you were no more than a slave. That record will have to be dealt with but I’m sure we can find your paper–”

“Papers?”

“Well, yes, generally when someone is sold as a slave there’s an exchange of the bill of sale, or in your case, it would be the exchange for the loan…”

“What if there wasn’t an exchange?”

Halsin seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable, his brow furrowing as he listened. When Astarion called the redhead a slave he let out a puff of air and the two turned to look at him, “Forgive me. I’ll leave you two to your conversation. Remember, Vesper, I’ll take the second watch and you can stay in my tent if you’d like some peace.”

Astarion watched the druid stand and walk away before looking back at the bard with a raised brow, “I might have ruined his night…” Vesper shook her head dismissively, preferring to return to the previous conversation, “I don’t think there was an exchange of anything paper. I never saw one and Issac made sure I was too…” She swallowed hard, “he made certain I wouldn’t run away even if I was left alone, let’s just say.”

The vampire reached out and palmed her cheek, “I can understand exactly what you mean. But if there’s no paperwork anywhere, no bill saying that you belong to him or a writ of your marriage to him…you are a freer woman than you ever thought.” Vesper studied Astarion’s face, he was giving her a smile she didn’t think she’d seen before, the lines around his mouth were deep, and his eyes were even crinkled, it was… infectious. “So…even if I went back he couldn’t make me go with him?” she asked and Astarion shook his head, “I mean I wouldn’t allow it anyway, it’s why we’re like this aren’t we?” Vesper flinched and pulled back from his touch, Astarion’s face fell, “I’m sorry, my sweet, maybe that joke was a touch too soon to tell after all. All the same, no. He cannot force you to go back to him. At the very least one of us will be free when this is all over.”

The bard lifted her eyes again, “We’ll kill Cazador.”

He chuckled and leaned back from her, “Were it only that easy. He is strong, Vesper. When this is done I will run as far as I can, hopefully, his influence is dependent on distance.” Vesper shifted until she was on her knees and she was leaning into his space, “We’re getting stronger. We’ll kill him. I mean, if we can kill a stupid cult leader trying to play as a god what makes you think we can’t handle Cazador?” His head tilted as he gave her a more familiar smile, “You’re sweet. Naive but…sweet.”

A voice called out to them from the fire and Astarion straightened, “Right. I was supposed to come and get you for dinner. Gale cooked again so take your time with…whatever this is.” She turned back and looked at the simmering potion, “Poison resistance…” Astarion made a noise of approval and stood, “Useful.”

After dinner, the others began preparing for bed. Vesper returned to her potion careful to muffle any noises that could wake the others. In total, she had enough ingredients to make a single potent resistance potion for each member of the party, including Halsin. The rest of the night she sat near the animals, petting and soothing them as they slept. Pieces of her conversation with Astarion slipped back into her mind and she felt something she hadn’t recognized in years bloom within her chest. She wasn’t married to Issac. If there was no slave paper she didn’t have to go anywhere with him. She took a deep breath and felt herself fill with that old emotion that had been dashed by the man she’d been forced to be with for ten years.

Hope.

Sometime during the night, she had found a book with empty pages past a certain point. Whatever this was, she’d found the book buried deep within the trunk, it looked handwritten. With a piece of charcoal from the fire she began to sketch on the empty page. It wasn’t a portrait of anyone, she was never skilled at drawing people, but she did sketch the camp.

Vesper didn’t know how long she had been up for when she began to yawn. Rubbing her face she could smell the campfire and sighed as she used her other hand to try and wipe the coal marks off her face, she heard a hushed chuckle and looked up at Halsin who nodded to her, “Well met.” He stepped closer, bending to use his cleaner hand, and wiped the smudge from her cheek, “Get some rest.”

Her cheeks flushed again and she nodded setting the book down beside her, “Goodnight, Halsin.” The druid was looking at the sketch she had made before he nodded to her. Vesper stood and walked to the last empty bedroll by the fire, Karlach had come to sleep with Gale and Wyll since they were ‘absolutely not frightened by the skeletal man they hadn’t spoken to yet.’ She was just about to lay down when she looked up at movement just above her, Astarion had stuck his head out of his tent and was waving to her.

She looked at Halsin who was now reading the front of the journal she had commandeered for her art before getting up to approach Astarion. “Yes?” she asked as she crouched at the opening of his tent. “Stay with me tonight…you’ve had nightmares the past couple of nights. While I think it would be hilarious for another one to frighten Gale, I’d also rather not wake up to all of our belongings being burned in a fireball,” he said as he held the flap open, when she hesitated he lifted a brow. “My behavior has been better than my best since the other night, I won’t attack you just because the others can’t see,” his insinuation that she didn’t trust him had her looking to the ground, he sighed, “Come on, little bard, I’m tired and would like to get at least a meditation in before we’re made to keep moving.”

He reached through to the outside and secured the flaps of the tent open before he laid down on the far side of the bedroll. She hesitated only a moment more, sparing a glance at the empty place by the fire before crawling in with him. Lying down on her back she stared at the ceiling of his tent, her body going rigid as his hand pushed a piece of her hair from her face, “Relax,” he suggested, “I…I wanted to ask a favor.” Silently she turned her head to look at him, “I need you to trust me, I swear I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with…or well, you’ll likely be uncomfortable—” he cleared his throat, “I won’t make this sexual.”

Her bottom lip was again being worried between her teeth before she nodded, “I trust you.” A small grin formed on his face before it slipped away and he scooted down, lifting her arm just enough that he could lay between it and her torso he placed his head against her breast. Her heartbeat began to race and she waited for a remark, a jeer, or even an unwanted touch between her legs, but the only other movement he gave was to place his arm across her midsection. “Is–is this the favor?” she asked and he hummed in acknowledgement.

“I just wanted to hear it…your heart,” he said softly and adjusted his head until his ear was flush against her armor. “Wait,” she said as she nudged him. They both sat up and she worked on the belt that held the armor closed, when she laid back down she was only in the leather top she’d been wearing for over a tenday, “Okay.” He looked down at her and his eyes followed the exposed skin between her breasts and down her torso, “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

Astarion laid back down, the sound of her beating heart clearer and the warmth of her skin spread over his cheek. He made no attempts to expose more of her skin, his hand was still as it rested over her hip, his fingers curled around it but not gripping. Vesper felt her heart slowing down. It was okay to trust him to do this. She’d woken up on his chest that morning and was safe, now she’d let him rest on hers and be safe. Her left arm which had been awkwardly extended to the side moved to wrap against his back and she carded her fingers into his hair.

She knew she wasn’t the only one with nightmares and never had Astarion welcomed her into his tent. The bard had no evidence to back up her suspicion that he may have had another nightmare, but just as she had done for Carwyn when he was little and had nightmares, Vesper began to hum as her blunted nails scraped against Astarion’s scalp. Her other hand reached for the arm on her midsection and she just held it, her thumb mindlessly rubbing circles. She felt his body stop breathing, no movement came from the vampire beside her and she had to remind herself that he made a conscious effort to breathe while he was awake. It wasn’t the most uncomfortable rest she’d gotten during this adventure, but the dead weight on her chest did make it a bit more difficult to breathe once she’d drifted to sleep.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

“I’m about this close,” Astarion held his gloved fingers practically closed, “to stopping you from agreeing to nice things.” Vesper giggled as she climbed down the stacked mushrooms, “I mean it,” he continued, “We just killed those duergar to exact revenge for these spore people–”

“Myconids.”

“Shut up you walking encyclopedia!”

“Be nice, Astarion!” Karlach called out.

“I am–regardless! We just got revenge on those underdwarves and now he’s demanding we behead a drow,” Astarion landed beside the bard as he continued to rant. “Don’t you feel a little bad, hunting an elf of your own kind? Or has that mind flayer’s potion scrambled your tadpole too much?”

Vesper looked through the myconid village, looking for the area that Sovereign had supposedly opened up for them. When Wyll jumped off the large fungi and landed beside her, “Well if we go by the history known of the duergar, and by that I mean their sometimes relations with mind flayers, it's possible this has something to do with the Absolute.” The warlock paused and turned to the bard, “How do you feel after that potion?”

The drow still had an amused grin on her face before she too paused and took stock of herself, “I feel fine? But also…odd?” Lae’zel stepped around the others to face the bard, grabbing her chin and lifting her face upward to study it. The githyanki didn’t pause as Vesper’s entire body went rigid, nor did she seem to take notice when the others called out to her, “I warned against trusting that ghaik, now you’ve made it stronger. The sooner we get to the crèche and are purified the better.” Just as roughly as she had grabbed the bard, Lae’zel dropped her hold quickly, “We should do this before dealing with this Nere.”

“You don’t get to make decisions like that, Lae’zel,” Shadowheart approached from behind Karlach who was lifting her hands. “She’s right, Lae, we’ll get to your people…but this dream visitor we’ve been having says there’s no safe way to remove it,” Karlach waved her hands as she spoke, while trying to keep them from everyone.

“Tsk’va! More lies fed to you by the parasite. Purification is the entire purpose of the zaith’isk, once we find the ghustil and you see the power of the zaith’isk you will understand. Without these tadpoles we will be all the stronger to destroy these cultists,” Lae’zel shifted her attention away from the group, signaling an end to her contribution to the conversation. Wyll looked from the gith to the drow before reaching out to the bard, “I saw movement this way.”

Vesper stood at the opening of the area while the others began to go through what was in the once-sealed cave. Gale stepped away from the body in the center, turning a book he’d found in the drow’s possession over in his hands. Standing beside the bard he held it up to her, “The Mating Rituals of Flumphs. Can you make anything out of it?” The bard looked at him oddly before taking the book and turning a few pages, “Is this a flumph?” she asked pointing to an illustration. Gale peered over her shoulder and nodded, “It is. Though I’ve never been certain if it was a fey creature or one from the underdark. I’ve never encountered one myself.”

Vesper continued thumbing through the pages, she paused long enough, she hoped at least, to give the impression she was skimming through the text before handing it back. “Seems alright to me, why?” Gale frowned and opened the book again, “Call it intuition, but something just feels…off.” The wizard quieted again before his attention was grabbed by the dwarves who were packing up their things near the cave’s entrance, leaning toward the bard Gale whispered, “Why did you lie about the noblestalk?”

The bard lifted her gaze and leaned back when she realized how close Gale actually was. “Well,” she whispered before leaning close, “it can bring back memories.” Gale frowned as he turned to look at her before following her eyes as she turned to look at the cleric. “Oh…oh!” he said as he realized the bard’s plan. “Do you think she would do it?

“I don’t know, but I think she should be allowed her memories…she called it an act of faith, but I don’t know how she can stand so many secrets from herself,” the bard said. Gale’s brow furrowed, “Hmm?” he looked down at the bard before shaking his head, “How are you? Lae’zel was a tad rough when she grabbed you. I thought Astarion and Shadowheart were about to jump to your defense.” Vesper lifted a hand and rubbed her chin, “I’m fine. She may have surprised me, and I can understand how it could have seemed rough, but she didn’t hold that tight. I could have pulled away if I wanted.” When Gale’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted Vesper rolled her eyes, “Seriously. She…” the bard sighed, “she’s not like those that we fought before. She waited for me to save Shadowheart. Even put herself in the way of hellish creatures so I could make it to the transponder.”

Gale looked away from the bard and instead focused on the others as they finished clearing the room, “I’ll have to take your word for it, and I do. It doesn’t, however, stop me from worrying how things will end up if she’s the first one purified. Her people may decide that with her pure we’re nothing more than fodder for them.” Vesper nodded, a frown forming on her face as if she hadn’t considered that, “That’s…that’s fair I guess.”

Karlach hefted her axe on her shoulders, “We still haven’t seen those minotaurs you found before. Should…should we go looking?”

The others seemed a little weary but Lae’zel was in agreement with the barbarian and eventually, the others came around. Vesper approached the hobgoblin again to ask for directions to the Selunite outpost from the village and they set out. Of course, the one thing standing in their way was a field of torchstalks and timmask plants. The bard hadn’t descended any further once she saw the orange glows, yet she felt the weight of hands on both her shoulders ready to pull her back if she tried to go any further.

The others took out the exploding stalks while she waited on the fungal steps leading out of the village. Omeluum’s ‘bypass’ had nearly consumed her mind when she tested it, even now she couldn’t remember why she had agreed to the kindly mind flayer’s test. All she knew, as the hands at her shoulder pressed her forward, was that the tadpole in her mind had gotten stronger from the mixture of timmask spores and tongue of madness.

The bard was about to voice that she thought it was the timmask spores in the potion that were befuddling her when she felt a new hand lay on her and her mind cleared. Inhaling deeply, Vesper looked around and turned to see Shadowheart’s hand still extended with an amused grin on her face, “Better? You looked nearly asleep.” Vesper nodded, “Yes, thank you. I don’t think I’ll be trying something like that again.”

She had thought the hands on her shoulders had belonged to Astarion, but now with her mind cleared she could see him ahead of her with Karlach and Lae’zel. Glancing behind she found Wyll squinting ahead, “Can you not see?” Wyll looked at the bard and let loose an embarrassed chuckle, “I had hoped you would be alright being my eyes. Despite my devilish appearance I still lack the ability to see in such a clouded dark.” Vesper looked at Gale, the human wizard walking alongside her, “If it wasn’t for the fact I had to concentrate on the spell I’d gladly extend the ability that the weave lends me to see. Unfortunately, I am not powerful enough to separately concentrate on two incantations,” he gave a tight-lipped smile to Wyll who shook his head. “That’s alright Gale, if it bothers Vesper I can stop,” he tilted his head, but the bard had no complaints.

Finding the minotaurs wasn’t the hard part, even killing the first one wasn’t difficult. But when the second one leaped from where Karlach and Lae’zel had it cornered onto the path with Gale and Vesper…well, things got just a little dicey. Hearing Gale swear was jarring enough that the bard paused just a moment too long, missing the opportunity to leap away from the half-bull’s hammer swing. It scraped along her back as it crashed into the ground. Crying out she turned towards it and her magic swelled, “You know Gale, I choose to believe in female minotaurs.”

The wizard, recovering from throwing himself onto the ground, rolled over, “Now isn’t the time for a joke, Vesper.”

“C’mon, I have a lass-half-bull mindset!” her voice boomed with the punch line and the minotaur stopped and stumbled backward before its inhuman laugh began spilling out of its maw. “Okay, now we run!” she spun on her toes and began shooing the wizard. Shadowheart stood just ahead of them her mouth agape, shouting, “That was intentional?” Wyll grabbed hold of the wizard with his free hand, “Tasha’s Hideous Laughter, I’ve heard of the spell but never seen its effects.”

As the spell caster rushed away from the large creature, Lae’zel and Karlach were running towards it. The minotaur, still laughing heartily, fell to the ground, its weapon teetering on the edge of the Underdark’s broken floors. “Good going, Vesper!” the tiefling yelled out as she leaped forward and brought down her axe on the beast. Lae’zel followed behind her, the githyanki’s greatsword coming down on the bull’s neck and then again before the spell’s effect could end. With a sickening crunch, the gith severed the head’s connection with the spine.

Vesper bent at the waist as she heavily exhaled, “Right…well…they’re dead. Now what?” She directed her question to Karlach whose smile shined through the blood covering her face. “Uh…I didn’t think that far, but I just…” she poked the dead minotaur with her axe, “It gave you problems and I wanted to solve them.” Shadowheart and Wyll released exasperated laughs as she looked back up at them with a wide smile.

“Vesper!”

Turning around the bard started looking around, “Yes?” She answered Astarion’s voice though she couldn’t see him, then he peeked over the edge of a natural bridge, “Up here. You’ve mentioned Eilistaree right?” The drow’s eyes narrowed in confusion but she nudged Gale’s arm, “Come on.” The wizard took her elbow and followed beside her, the others not far behind.

A sword was standing still in a stone.

“Something about this, aren’t these offerings to your little dancing goddess?” Astarion looked up from the rock and seemed to pause his gaze on the hold Gale had on the bard’s arm. Neither spoke of the look he gave them as Vesper approached and looked over things. Shadowheart walked up behind her, “Are you a devotee of Eilistaree?”

Vesper looked back and shook her head, “Not really. My grandparents on both sides devoted themselves to her when they came to the surface. My parents' offerings were mostly so we were talented, or that’s my understanding.” She turned to Astarion and reached for one of the daggers on his hip, “What are you doing?” He quickly gripped her wrist. “Oh,” she said as she looked up at him, “it requires an offering…so I was going to give it one.”

Astarion hesitated before releasing his hold and watching her. The bard turned back around and cut into the palm of her hand before placing her hand against the blade letting her blood run down it until it touched the stone. “Don’t look so sad, Astarion, I’m sure she has enough to spare for you,” teased Wyll from the side. The bard giggled softly before gasping as the blade began to slide through her hand, lifting from its stone sheath.

Handing the dagger back to the rogue the bard took the hilt into her hand and released a puff of air.

Feeling a presence behind her, she rested the sword’s blade against her still-bleeding palm, “It says something here but…” she looked up at Astarion who was looking over her shoulder. “Undercommon,” he said, “Gale don’t you have something that can read anything?” The wizard stepped forward and held his hands out, “It’ll take about ten minutes to complete the ritual but I should know.”

While Gale set up an area to conduct his ritual to cast ‘Tongues’ Vesper remembered what Wyll had teased about and turned to offer her hand to Astarion, “Hmm?” A playful smile danced across her face and the rogue looked at her palm before cutting his eyes back up to her, “Tempting…but no. Heal it you silly elf.” He pushed her hand away gently and climbed down the bridge to look around.

After ten minutes Gale held the long sword up by the hilt, “Phalar Aluve or in less elven terms, ‘Though I have to leave you,’” he turned and passed the sword back to the bard, “‘I will dance forever in Eilistraee's light.’ All yours, dear Vesper, unless you wanted to pass it on to someone else.” The bard took it into her hands again and looked at each of them, “Anyone for it? I wouldn’t mind using it but it's much larger than this rapier…and well,” she motioned to her shoulders.

“When will you get rid of your weakness?” asked Lae’zel as she stepped forward. The gith took the sword from Vesper’s hands and spun it in her grip. Frowning she offered it back, “Any perceived weakness could prove lethal once you are in the zaith’isk. It would be wise to get rid of it.” Vesper’s eyes grew round, “I thought it was supposed to purify us?” Lae’zel nodded, her face still devoid of emotion, “And it will. However, istik, your diminutive build will already prove to be a problem for the githyanki technology. It may decide that you, yourself, need to be removed and purified.” Shadowheart bristled, “Are you calling her weak? You’re no larger than she is, Lae’zel! How is she considered weak and you aren’t?” Lae’zel lifted a brow and her head tilted, “I am made of Vlaakith’s strength and power. I have honed my body to endure. We have already seen Vesper fall once.”

“Because Gale threw her into a torchstalk!”

Karlach raised her hands, “Alright, alright, ladies…” The tiefling stepped between them, “It’s not up to us when or if she removes the collar. It’s her choice.”

The bard was staring at the gith’s back, the fighter having turned to face Shadowheart. Muttering to herself she healed her hand and turned to follow after Astarion. “Hey,” she called to him as he was bent over a skeleton, picking something from the pile of bones, “Think we’re ready to go kill that drow?”

He lifted his head and shrugged, “Are you ready to kill your own kind? It’ll just be us this time, no tieflings to help like with Minthara.” Vesper rubbed the side of her neck, “I’m not thrilled about the idea of killing at all, but they’ve got those gnomes,” she ignored the look of disgust on the high elf’s face, “and they’re destroying the Sovereign’s people. Besides, if they’re with the Absolute…it might get us closer to a path for Moonrise.”

Astarion shifted and looked behind her before picking up a skull, “Think Shadowheart would like a Selunite skull?” The bard lifted a questioning brow before the rogue shrugged, “Probably not,” and tossed it behind him. He reached over and picked up a rusted dagger before pocketing it and standing, “Well,” he motioned to the others as they approached, “seems like it's time to cross that dark lake. Anyone sitting out?”

Shadowheart looked at the others, “Perhaps we camp one more night before crossing. There’s only one boat and we need to be prepared in case we can’t come back straight away.” Vesper nodded in agreement, “And,” Astarion added, “we need to check the last of these notes on this forge we keep finding. Decide if we’re going to search for it or not.” Gale nodded, “I can agree with that plan. Though I haven’t exhausted my use of the weave today, it would be most useful for us to be as prepared as possible. Ruins surrounded by duergar won’t likely be the safest place for the likes of us. Vesper notwithstanding.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” questioned the bard rather quickly.

“I mean no offense, it's just…well, I suppose they don’t exactly have the best relations with the drow, but if they’re absolute followers it seems like she’s been placing dark elves in positions of leadership. We may need your voice to get past all of this quickly,” Gale explained as quickly as he could. He hadn’t meant to cause harm with his words, but the bard’s face had fallen just a bit. “I know you aren’t Llothsworn, we all do, but they won’t know that…not if you adopt that facade you put on before and perhaps that face you had before?” he offered.

“My sister’s face,” the bard adjusted her hold on the long sword. Gale’s head tilted, “Your sister doesn’t have your complexion?” Vesper shook her head, “No…Octavius and Yasmine look like dark elves like we’ve met. Paler, but still they have ashier skin than I do…well you saw her.” Karlach cleared her throat, “Let’s talk about it at camp.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

It was late when they finally got to the talk. Gale retired to his tent, he’d had a conversation with Withers that morning and was now comfortable being near the new member of the camp, to sort through his spell book to decide what was best for him to prepare in the morning. Not to mention a few scrolls he had purchased from Blurg.

Wyll and Karlach left with Halsin to get any gatherable herbs. Karlach went mostly for the protection aspect, and she liked talking to Halsin. Shadowheart had joined Vesper in her little alchemy corner, at least she had been there until the third time the bard asked her to reread the directions to the potion, “You have two eyes, Vesper, you can read it yourself.” After that she’d gotten up and left, leaving the bard embarrassed and flushed in front of the small steaming cauldron she’d been kneeling in front of her.

While the cleric was still muttering about forgetful bards, Astarion stepped from his tent and looked from the Sharran’s tent to where the bard sat with her hands in her lap. He moved closer and sat down, “What happened?”

“Timmask spores…not as strong as being hit with their full force but I inhaled just a little while pulverizing them…I–” she looked down at her lap, “I keep forgetting what she said.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, “And I can’t read it so I don’t know what the next step is and now she’s upset and I–” her eyes closed tightly as she held her breath trying to calm herself. Astarion reached forward and picked up the book, “Get your tools. I’ll read it to you.” She looked up at him and caught his eye, her lip quivering before she bit down on it, “Thank you.”

They worked quietly, she’d purchased herbs from the dwarven woman in the myconid village. It was purely out of guilt for lying about the noblestalk. Vesper knew the value of the rare fungi and when the woman had lamented how they would be down there even longer she knew she needed to do something to make up for it. When she was finished with the greater healing potion she sat back on her heels and sighed, looking over at the elf beside her, he was flipping through the pages of Halsin’s book. She wasn’t sure if it was the spores still in her system that gave her the courage or if she just didn’t expect him to react harshly; the bard leaned close and quickly pressed her lips to his cheek. Sitting up again she cleared her throat, “Thank you, again, Astarion.”

The rogue had pause, his eyes wide and his fingers holding one of the books pages aloft as he’d been the process of flipping it. “You’re more than welcome, my darling,” he grinned, “was that my payment for helping or were you just feeling generous?” His smile grew as he watched her cheeks flush. “Don’t tease me,” she practically begged as she lifted her stirrer to attend the potion again. Astarion placed the book down and let his hands rest behind him, holding him up, “And why not? It’s practically the most fun I can have in this camp…you haven’t wanted sex so I have to get my pleasure somewhere.”

Her head jerked sideways as she stared at him before turning to look away, “How do you even know…”

“Hmm?”

She swallowed hard and leaned over some of her other ingredients gathering them together for another potion, “How,” she lowered her voice, “how do you know when you want to have sex?”

Astarion frowned. His brow furrowed as he leaned forward, “Are you saying you don’t feel desire for me?” Vesper inhaled deeply and set everything in her hands down, “Not so loud, please.” He chuckled.

“There are things I want to do…but I don’t know,” she frowned, “I feel ridiculous trying to explain. Never mind. Forget I said anything, please.”

The rogue looked away and took a breath, “I know how you feel…in a sense.” He glanced back at the rest of the camp, Shadowheart was messing with the prism again and Lae’zel was once against sharpening her long sword. “I didn’t always want to bed Cazador’s victims, but they weren’t all terrible,” he admitted and looked back to Vesper who was twisting a rag in her hands. “Did you never enjoy sex? None of that bastard’s friends give you a good time?” he asked cautiously. She shook her head, “He had one. A man started coming around with him and he was kind to me.” Vesper lifted her head as her eyes unfocused, “He paid me compliments, would help me take laundry off the line if I was outside and he came to see Issac. Even told Carwyn not to speak to me so harshly a few times…”

She looked down at her rag again, “He would come by when Issac wasn’t there…tell me things he thought I deserved and said some of the kindest things. But then he tried to kiss me…” her hand reached up to the corner of her mouth, “he didn’t like that I didn’t want him to touch me. None of them kissed me…none of his friends anyway.” Astarion leaned close, “Except the one you imagined.” Vesper nodded.

Astarion exhaled heavily and sat back again, “Hmm. That does throw a wrench into things doesn’t it…” The bard turned, and her knees pressed against one of his, “There are times when I do want to kiss you. I may not have had sex when Issac took me but I had kissed someone…I know when I want to do that, but I don’t want to push myself on you.” The rogue chuckled, “My dear, push yourself all you like.” His laugh ran through her as she dropped her head again, “What I mean is I know when I want to do that, but not…anything else. Not yet.”

She knew she was being watched by the vampire’s spawn. When her gaze drifted just behind her lashes she could watch him he leaned forward and rested his hands on his fist, “Can we work on that? Despite some of the horrible bedmates I’ve had…I do enjoy some of the carnal acts of desire. And as I told you before, I want to know what you really sound like instead of those shouts and screeches you were making in the woods.”

“Uhm,” she felt his fingers under her chin and nearly fought against him before letting him pull her head up. He was so much closer than she’d realized, his nose grazing against hers, “I can only imagine just how sweet your blood is in the throes of passion.” His lips grazed hers and her heart began to pound in her ears, her breath catching and the heat that she normally felt in her face raced through her extremities. “My little bard, I cannot wait to drink you up,” he smirked, and their eyes met as he opened his, “and I don’t just mean your blood.”

She felt his tongue ghost against the seam of her lips and gasped in a silent breath. Noises from the camp's entrance had him backing away for just a second before he turned her chin and pressed a kiss to the scar on her lips, “Soon?” Dumbly she nodded and closed her mouth tightly, when Astarion turned and got up she pressed her hand to her chest and turned back to the table nearly yelping when his voice was a whisper in her ear, “That, love, that is desire.” He tugged a strand of her hair before walking away.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

During dinner, Karlach pulled out of her pocket a grouping of vines. “Right, so we need Vesper to go on the boat just because she’s a drow right?” she asked and looked at Gale who nodded as he spooned a mouthful of ‘sad soup,’ Astarion had taken to calling their underdark meals as such, “Right. I should probably also go, I nominate myself only because I don’t believe our resident bard can cast a teleportation circle.” Vesper shook her head as she ate and looked at Karlach, “What are those for?”

The tiefling glanced at Halsin before clearing her throat and holding them out, “We were talking about it on our little gathering trip. Since we probably all want to go if only to make sure the rest of you are safe, Halsin suggested drawing straws to see who goes. So, there are two short straws for those that will be going.” Lae’zel tutted and rolled her eyes before reaching over and quickly plucking one out of Karlach’s fingers, it was a very short vine. “Right then, one more short one…Lae’zel…” Karlach made a face at the gith before looking at the others, “Unless someone can make a compelling argument as to why they should go.”

Vesper looked around the campfire before the others reached out to grab for the vines. Shadowheart held up her short straw and the others threw theirs into the fire. Astarion stared at them and then turned to Vesper, “Finish eating, we need to work on your lock picking.” He sat his bowl of soup in front of Scratch before getting up and returning to his tent.

The bard frowned for a moment and turned her bowl up to her lips, “He didn’t mean right now, did he? You can take your time to eat at least,” Shadowheart said as she watched the redheaded drow. Halsin chuckled, “He’s in his right to be worried. I’ve not seen them apart since I joined your camp.” Vesper choked on the last bit of broth and brought her bowl down to look at the druid who was smiling. Wonderful, she thought, someone else to tease me.

She felt the tadpole wriggle and Karlach and Wyll began laughing, Wyll tilted his head, “Well it’s only because he’s saying what we’ve all seen. You and Astarion are close…it’s nice to see he cares about someone other than himself.” He turned his attention to Halsin, “You’re right though, this will be the first time he’s been left behind in camp…hell, it’ll be the first time for several of us, actually.” He looked at Lae’zel and Shadowheart, “Will you two be alright without Karlach as a buffer.” “T’chz.”

“I hardly need a babysitter, Wyll. As long as Lae’zel stays on her best behavior I’ll have no reason to knock her into the Ebonlake.”

Vesper shot the cleric a pleading look and Shadowheart sighed, “Fine. Yes, I’ll behave…as long as she does.” Lae’zel made another noise of difference, “We are allies as long as we have these tadpoles, though if your usefulness runs out I may have to dispose of you.”

Karlach looked between them, “I’m rethinking the vines.”

Vesper shook her head, “Don’t. They’ll be fine. Right? Because without either one of you, things could go poorly for Gale and me…” She gave each of them a pleading look and Lae’zel lifted her chin, “I will remain nonhostile to Shadowheart if you agree to remove the collar.”

“I’m leaving,” the bard muttered as she stood quickly and walked away toward Astarion’s tent, the high elf now standing just outside his tent with a pair of gloves, a set of thieves tools, and an ordinary chest lock in his hands.

Halsin looked around the campfire and frowned, “What is the matter with the collar she wears?” Wyll shook his head when Shadowheart opened her mouth, “She was upset when she found out you told me.” The cleric sighed and shook her head, “Halsin is a member of this team now, isn’t he? He needs to know about her shortcomings…” Turning to the druid she began to explain what she knew about the bard. The druid’s jaw set in a hard line as he listened, and his eyes glanced over to the two elves.

“If it’s simply sealed together, surely it is something that can be removed easily,” he said as he watched the bard, “and I would hardly call an accessory like that a shortcoming.”

“It hides her broken collarbone. Or rather, her poorly healed collarbone.”

Even at this distance, he could see the bard’s shoulders straighten, and her ear turned towards the fire, her chin down as far as it could go.

“A poorly healed injury is also not a shortcoming,” he said to the cleric. Halsin turned to look at Shadowheart, “I have seen you flinch when that mark on your hand flares. Do you consider it a shortcoming?” Shadowheart looked down at her hand and blanched, “No.” The druid bowed his head, “Then why would you consider her injury to be a shortcoming?”

Shadowheart had no answer.

Lae’zel sighed, “It needs to come off, no matter how anyone thinks of it. Her shoulder needs to be healed if it can, lest something happen to her in the zaithisk.”

Karlach smiled, “It’s almost like you like her Lae.” The githyanki tsked and lifted her chin again, “She has impressed me since reuniting after the nautiloid. Though I prefer battle to be won through bloodletting I can respect her magic.”

Gale, who had been quiet up until now, chuckled, “Agreed…though she could use some better jokes.” Wyll hummed from his spot by the fire, “I dunno…lass-half-bull was pretty funny.” The tiefling laughed and nodded, “And her mockery is getting better. Probably saved my ass today with those dwarves.”

Across the camp Vesper listened, she could feel Astarion’s hand on her knee, her own hand was over his. When she turned back she was chewing on the inside of her cheek, “Don’t listen to them. The druid’s right.” She glanced up at Astarion and spared him a tense smile before she focused on the lock again, “Is he though? I’ve got a perfectly useful sword today…can’t use it because I can’t even lift it properly.” The lock finally clicked and Astarion pulled it back to reengage the lock and held it out once again, “Again. Taking off the collar is your choice. Everything is your choice now,” he told her as she bent over his hand and began working on the tumblers inside the lock.

“Should I agree to what Lae’zel said?” she asked as she stuck the tip of her tongue out from between her lips. “It’s your choice…I won’t deny I’d like you to remove the collar only because I worry about your fragile little wrist.” When the lock popped open again he took it away and reached behind him for another one, “Again.”

“How many of these do you have?”

“When it took you longer to just pick a lock than it did for me to disarm a trap and open the lock…I began collecting. Less talking more picking,” he pushed her head down and grinned when he heard her snickering.

“But, if you weren’t so beholden to keeping your promises…” he tilted his head before reaching to adjust one of her hands, “you could agree to it and then just never do it.” She looked up at him for a second before looking back down as one of the tools in her hands became tight, “I can’t do that. All I have is my word…literally, I own nothing.”

Astarion glanced over her head and saw the others were tossing looks in their direction, “Perhaps. Maybe I’m looking to corrupt you just a little bit, after all, in all my years visiting taverns of Baldur’s Gate, you must be the most squeaky clean bard I’ve ever met.” he sighed and shook his head from side to side, “Fine, besides the pickpocketing and the lock picking….it took you too long,” he said as the lock finally popped, “try again.”

He glanced up again and raised a brow, “Gith coming.” Vesper lifted her head to look at him before turning, Lae’zel had her arms crossed over her chest, “Karlach is threatening to go against her own set rule if I do not agree to ‘behave.’ I still pose that I will act as you expect of me if you remove it.” Vesper took a deep breath and looked at Astarion who cast his eyes away from her, she looked back to Lae’zel and nodded. “Fine, but after we deal with the drow,” Lae’zel nodded once and left the two to their devices, returning not to the fire but to her tent.

Vesper sighed again and looked at Astarion, “Why do you want it gone anyway?” The rogue lifted his brow and looked towards her neck, “I wasn’t lying, I worry about your wrist.” He lifted her hand and tugged the glove off, she could see healing puncture marks. “I will admit your thigh was much more enjoyable, and perhaps it’s the spawn in me…” he leaned closed and whispered, “I like necks.” The bard pursed her lips as he leaned back before she began to shake with laughter, “Really?” He nodded, “Your neck is a mystery to me…it could end the whole thing if it's not enjoyable.” He looked away from her but allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk upward, “Then who will I enjoy? Halsin has a nice throat I suppose…think he’d let me have a taste?” He turned to the bard who was now covering her mouth to keep from making noise.

Vesper let Astarion drink from her that night, ignoring his teasing about how she tasted. She also ignored his advances about ‘pleasing’ her but did give in when he told her to deny him a kiss. Part of her had expected it to go beyond what she was comfortable with, but the high elf had sweetly pressed his lips against hers before pulling away. “Go prepare for your watch before I don’t allow you to leave,” he goaded her as he pushed her away. The bard laughed softly as she left him for the evening.

After bottling her potion, the drow walked quietly around the campsite careful not to disturb those around the fire. After her round was finished, Vesper did her best to sneak out of the camp proper, shushing Scratch and the owlbear cub as she left. She didn’t go far from the protected entrance, Shadowheart’s warding glyph pulsating as her feet scuffed across the arcane ward.

Perching on the naturally formed bridge that led to their cave Vesper pulled her knees to her chest and let her fingers dance across the bottom of her collar. Words from Issac and his family rang between her ears as she touched it. Memories of the way her neighbors looked at her flashed behind her eyes. She was so lost in thought she nearly leaped forward when a blanket was dropped over her shoulders, “Whoa! Don’t–” Halsin’s sleep-deep voice nearly echoed in the chamber they were in, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Scratch was worried about you being alone,” he said as he crouched down beside her before fully sitting, his legs hanging over the edge.

“I didn’t mean to worry him…or you, or wake you up at all,” said the bard as she tugged the blanket over her leather-wrapped shoulder. “I wasn’t resting yet, attempting yes, but I had not yet reached reverie,” he told her before he glanced in her direction, “Vesper…may I ask an uncomfortable question?”

She could already hazard a guess as to what he wanted to ask. Glancing at the large druid she inhaled deeply and nodded, “Of course, you’ve helped me a lot recently. How could I say no to a question?” Halsin’s frown deepened but he pressed on, “Your companions seemed to have concerns about the collar around your neck. An injury, no matter how grave, shouldn’t be hidden in shame. It’s a mark of your survival…”

It was exactly as she’d been expecting. Nervously she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and listened. Halsin reiterated himself several times, that she shouldn’t wear the collar just because she’s ashamed of the scar her collarbone left. Finally, she held up a hand, “Halsin… it's not because of the injury…” The druid stopped talking and waited, when she didn’t continue he pressed, “If not the injury…why? Even Astarion told you the other night you are not beholden to this man you called a husband…” The word ‘man’ was hesitantly said, as if Halsin were trying to come up with a word befitting his thoughts on the image he’d created of Issac from the little information he’d been given.

“I may not be ‘beholden’ to him as you say,” she reached through the blanket and touched the collar’s edge, “and yet he does have a hold. But…” she let one leg fall off the edge of the bridge and the other adjusted as she turned to the druid. It was time the others knew the truth, might as well start with the one who was talking to her now. “When the collar was sewn together the woman who did the work sewed deeply, running the threads through my shoulders. When I complained…well,” she could hear Issac’s mother’s laughter, “she didn’t care. So removing it isn’t exactly a simple task…and I’m a bit of a baby when it comes to pain.”

Vesper watched the druid’s face as it shifted from curious understanding, to rage, and finally softened into a sympathetic smile for the bard. Her eyes followed the movement of his hand as it raised and carefully rested against her shoulder, his weight held so as to not put pressure on the blanket or leather, “I am deeply sorry for your pain. I can only imagine…” he paused and removed his hand as his chin fell, “this was not the first cruelty you experienced?” When she shook her head he sighed, “Nor was it the last,” she said in a hushed whisper. “But, believe me, Halsin…when I say it was far from the worst cruelty I experienced before this tadpole…besides Astarion, I may be the only one thrilled with the turn of events…not that I want to be a mind flayer, of course.”

From where she sat, Vesper could have sworn that Halsin was having an internal crisis. She lifted her head to look at the druid fully and reached out placing her hand against his bicep, “Don’t feel sorry for me, Halsin.” The druid shook his head, “I just…I cannot help but wonder what else he put you through.” Her eyes widened as she thought about it all and she had to shake her head to release herself from her thoughts, “Oh, you know…daily physical harm just because I slept wrong or allowed our son to be a child and make noise when he wanted silence.” “You had children?”

The bard’s head nodded, “Yes. Three little babies all at once…” She looked away with a melancholic smile, “Of course, I only have the one now.”

“Childhood can be very hard–”

“Childhood didn’t kill them…” she quickly corrected him before biting down on the inside of her cheek. “Mariwen was the weaker of the three—” “Triplets?” asked Halsin as he leaned closer, the bard’s voice was softer as she recalled her children. “Yes…not unheard of in my family,” she glanced at him before looking away, she could feel the burn in her eyes, “Mariwen was the weaker one but she was still so strong, my sisters always told me that the more babies cried the stronger they were…so when she got sick and just kept crying I didn’t mind. The other two got over their illness, but not Mariwen. I thought it was fine, that her crying would come to an end but Issac…” she blinked rapidly and swiped her hand over her eyes, “Issac threw us both into a room and barred the door so we couldn’t get out.”

Vesper refused to look in Halsin’s direction as he scooted closer to her, when his hand warmed her back through the blanket she bowed her back to keep it off of her, “I didn’t hear the buzzing until her cries were screams.” She took in a shuddering breath, “Hornets had somehow built a nest beneath the floorboards…which I still find so interesting considering the room we were in was mine and I had just cleaned it the day before…no buzzing. No hornets. But somehow it was my fault for not keeping his home free of pests.”

Halsin said nothing. When she bowed her back to get away from his touch he pulled his hands back, “What happened to your other daughter?”

The bard gave him a pained smile and laughed humorlessly, “Isn’t that a question I would love to know.” She turned her eyes to the druid and tilted her head, “After burying Mariwen I didn’t want the other two to get very far from me. So I’d have them sleep in my bed rather than their crib. For Issac, I learned how to sleep like a human, he has always hated the idea of meditation and reverie, so I didn’t hear the men when they came in. I didn’t know they were there until the one nearly stabbed through my neck and he ripped Ffion from my arms.” The druid sucked in air and she reached out to pat his arm again, her hand was quickly covered by his, “I wanted to go after them. But they said they’d take Carwyn too or kill me and leave him to die…Issac was going to be gone for weeks. The only person that would come by would have been his brother…Evard didn’t care about the children.”

She licked her dried lips and shame colored her face, “I chose to save my son…to save myself and I let them take Ffion away from me.”

Her hand was slid down Halsin’s arm until he held it in both of his hands, “You were given an impossible choice. To go after your daughter it would have put more lives in danger. There was no right decision to be made.” He heard another scoff from her and she turned to look at him, “If only it had been you instead of Issac…he believed I should have found a way. Should have thrown myself at those men, given myself to them in hopes that they would have been satisfied with the drow whore of Rivington.” A rebellious tear streaked down her face and her hand rushed to catch it.

“After that of course, I never did anything that would put Carwyn in danger. I gave Issac whatever he wanted the moment he mentioned it…no matter how much I hated it…or it made me hate myself,” when Halsin opened his mouth she guessed his question and shook her head, “It didn’t stop the abuse. This collar happened after my girls were gone…after Carwyn turned four he was taught to hate me. They taught him to not listen to my instructions and then he would get angry because I couldn’t control my child.” She looked at the druid and stretched a smile across her face, “But I have to be happy. Because I’m alive…my son is still alive. Now I’m free from him and of them.”

Halsin’s hands warmed the one of hers he still held. His thumb massaged the lower portion of her palm and he had cast his eyes downward. “Yet you still cling to that which was to shame you,” his words weren’t meant to be accusatory but she flinched all the same. The druid released her hand and patted the top, “You’ve made an agreement to remove the collar, but if I may…I don’t think that you are ready for its removal.”

She didn’t answer.

Silence fell between the elves before Halsin made to stand, “Come. I can keep watch tonight and rest while the rest are in camp tomorrow. We don’t know how long it will take for your boat to cross the Ebonlake. You need all the rest you can get.” Vesper wanted to deny him, but old habits are so hard to kick. Even with Astarion’s help she still had difficulty turning men down. Standing she dusted off her backside, “I’m sorry if I ruined your evening…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Halsin turned to face her, he’d nearly made it back to their camp’s entrance. “Knowing what someone has gone through can help when that person is struggling. For instance, now when Astarion’s barbs get a little more… ambitious I know that I should probably stop him before he truly hurts you.” He held an arm out to the bard and his fingers curled, “I won’t leave you out here alone, but it’s much safer within the wards.”

She tucked the blanket around herself tighter and followed the druid, he paused at his tent before he shook his head and guided her to Astarion’s, “The others think you have fewer nightmares when you’re beside him.” Vesper frowned, “How would they know I’m having nightmares?” Halsin lifted a brow and then tapped his finger softly against her head, “Apparently your parasite likes to share that information with the others.”

The already pale drow blanched further, but she nodded, “Thank you. Here,” she passed his blanket back to him before crawling into the rouge’s tent. Even though her staying with him that night hadn’t been discussed, Astarion had kept the second bedroll beside his, the cushion she used to pillow her head lay next to his, and the threadbare blanket was folded exactly where she had left it that morning. She tied the opening closed and sat back on her heels until she felt Astarion’s nails trail up her arm, “Lie down…get some rest.”

“How much of that did you hear?” she asked as she followed his orders, her knees curling upward as she threw the blanket over herself.

“Enough to know these next few days will be awkward until you address the others,” he said sleepily. His head turned and he opened his eyes to glance at her, “Come here. You’re going to worry about it for too long and be exhausted come morning…Lae’zel will blame me.” Astarion allowed her to curl against him, only reaching down to bring one of her knees up to rest on his thigh, “Comfortable?” he asked before laying his head back down. The laid there in silence before he sighed, “Close your eyes or I’ll kill you and have Halsin revive you come morning.” When her head shot up he looked at her, “It would be peaceful…bad timing?” She nodded and he wrinkled his nose, “I won’t harm you. Just close your eyes and count your sheep…”

Getting to sleep wasn’t easy for the bard. Guilt over subjecting the party to her dreams ate at her, but Astarion’s nails scraped against her scalp just as she had done for him previously. He found a rhythm that finally lulled the bard to sleep. Glancing at her once her breathing evened out, Astarion frowned and looked at his hands. Comfort from his hands.

“How odd…”

#the caged bard #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 #tcb: vesper #astarion/tav #astarion/halsin/tav coming later #halsin/tav later #astarion/halsin later #tav's story

2 notes · View notes

ollieofthebeholder · 5 months

Text

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 70: May 2017

Jon was trying so hard to be sensible and brave.

After Elias had lectured—no, not lectured, scolded, like they were a pair of naughty children—him and Melanie for their rash behavior in going to the Trophy Room and forbidden them to do any more field research without authorization and proper supervision, he’d been making an effort to actually do his job. Melanie had thrown her nervous energy into trying to figure out how Martin, who was apparently the only one that ever paid attention to his own systems, had organized the Archives, while Jon had taken over the research into the log book from Breekon and Hope. He couldn’t tell the difference between the real and fake handwriting any better than Melanie could, but he figured looking up each and every delivery source and recipient would help better than impulsively throwing himself at desperate chances.

It was hard to stay focused, though. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from pinning all his hopes on each new name he found, and being crushed when it turned out to be closed or completely innocuous or thoroughly unrelated. He kept wandering to the statements, even the fake ones, barely interested in the follow-up anymore but still trying because maybe this one would be the key to the Unknowing’s location. And it was harder and harder to keep himself from going off on an impulsive adventure. Only Tim’s snapping and Sasha’s nagging kept him—or Melanie—confined to the Archives.

But Tim had called out today. He sounded like he needed it, but he also sounded calmer than he had since before Martin went missing, so Jon had had no problem accepting. Still…it meant one fewer person to keep him from doing something impulsive and stupid.

He tried to distract himself by going to the breakroom to get cocoa for everyone. He didn’t even know if Basira drank hot chocolate, but he wasn’t making tea, that was Martin’s thing and he refused to contemplate the idea that he wouldn’t be back to do it someday. It took some concentration to juggle four mugs at once, but he managed it and headed back to the Archives after longer than he would have liked. Sasha was at her desk, Basira in her usual corner, but Melanie was nowhere to be seen. Jon left a mug at Basira’s elbow—whether she’d notice or not he had no idea—and set another on Sasha’s desk, then looked towards the climate-controlled document storage room.

“She went to the bathroom,” Sasha said, startling Jon so much he almost dropped both mugs he was still holding. She reached up and took Melanie’s from him, then set it smoothly on her desk. “She’ll be right back…uh, I think she left something for you on your desk a minute ago, but I don’t know what.”

If it had been anyone else, Jon might have been apprehensive about what was on his desk. But it was Melanie, and he knew he could trust her. Clutching his mug of cocoa tightly like a talisman, he headed into his office to see what was going on.

It was, probably unsurprisingly, a tape. On top of it was a sticky note with Melanie’s handwriting scrawled across it: Think this is the one you didn’t want to record last week.

Jon shut the door to his office, then sat down and slowly moved the note to one side. Sure enough, the tape was labeled in Martin’s handwriting, a slight lefty slant to his otherwise precise, even handwriting. It simply had the file number, 9971402, and the words Internal Use Only, with no further identification. That wasn’t necessarily unusual; even Gertrude’s labels had rarely made sense to anyone but her, and they really only needed to know what tapes went with what folders. But Martin usually added a word or two to jog their memories if they were just pulling the tapes, and he always wrote the speaker’s name underneath the file number. This one he hadn’t. It was almost like he hadn’t wanted anyone to listen to it…or maybe that he did, that he wanted Jon to be so curious he would just listen without investigating.

That wasn’t like Martin, to tempt him. Martin was usually extremely careful to keep Jon from falling further into the Eye’s clutches. Maybe he’d just been in a hurry.

Still…Jon wanted to listen to it. And it had nothing to do with the Beholding. He wanted to listen to it because Martin had recorded it. He wanted to hear Martin’s voice, to imagine him sitting on the other side of the desk reading it, to picture the way his face relaxed and his shoulders straightened and his beautiful green eyes seemed to shine brighter than ever when he spoke the words, and wow, Jon was smitten. If he hadn’t realized how hard he’d fallen for Martin before, the fact that he was thinking about something as objectively both horrifying and terrifying as the statements that led them further and further into the clutches of an evil otherworldly being and all he could think of was how pretty Martin looked in those moments would be a pretty big tell.

He took a deep breath and popped the tape into the recorder, then hit PLAY.

For a moment, there was nothing, just a faint rustling. Then Martin’s voice came out, shaking slightly. “Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, recording statement number 9971402, statement of Police Constable Thad Williams. Statement given fourteenth of February, 1997. File marked ‘For Internal Use Only.’ Statement begins.”

As Jon listened, he heard the change in Martin’s voice, the way he relaxed and sank into the statement, the way it took him over and let him speak calmly and coherently. It sent an ache through his entire body, largely centered around the heart, as much because of the fact that it was Martin’s voice as it was the implications of what that meant. He leaned his chin into his hands and stared vacantly at the tape recorder, listening as the statement spooled out, or at least the lead-up to it—the statement-giver seemed to mostly be complaining about his idiotic bully of a nephew, who was likely going to end up either in prison or the victim of an organ-harvesting scam. Jon was willing to bet this would end up being a Flesh statement, especially after the statement said the boy had gone missing without warning.

Then he heard the words Jurgen Leitner, and he sat up and paid closer attention.

It only took a couple more sentences for Jon’s heart to leap into his throat as the truth struck him like a thunderbolt. The Leitner being discussed was his. This was the young man whose name he’d never been able to remember, the one who’d saved his life inadvertently, and someone had made a statement about his disappearance and the search for him. He wasn’t surprised that the constable had found neither his nephew nor the book, but…

But he’d known about it, too. He’d known Leitner existed, and what the books meant. If Jon had known that…would it have made a difference?

“Statement ends.” There was a quick intake of breath from the other end, and when Martin’s voice came back, it was shaking again. “It took a little bit of, uh, I had to use some sleight of hand to keep Jon from recording this one, but…Jon, if you’re listening to this tape, I’m sorry, but I didn’t think you were ready for it. You just got back, and with everything else you’ve been through lately, I figured…I thought maybe I’d give you some time before you have to think about this. I’m hoping I’m sitting there with you for this, because I think you’re going to need the support. If I’m not there…well, come find me if you need me.”

Another deep breath, and this time, when Martin spoke, it was in the same tone of voice Jon had noticed him using for most of his summaries. “Investigating statements marked ‘internal use only’ is always a bit trickier than usual. Most of the time there’s some kind of nondisclosure agreement surrounding the events, or it’s something that was given to us in the nature of a priest’s confessional—something that was never discussed outside the Institute—which means that we have to be careful about any follow-up we do, and it’s naturally going to be more cursory. In this case, though, the incident predated the Freedom of Information Act by three years, and was even before the election that made that a campaign promise, so it wasn’t technically a Section Thirty-One case, which gave me a little more leeway into the research. Still, it’s been twenty years, so I knew there’d only be so much I could find. And I wasn’t about to let anyone else help with this one. I figured the fewer people who knew about it until Jon got back, the better.

“I got lucky, though. I went down to Bournemouth and made contact with P.C. Zacharias Smith, who’s now the captain of the entire precinct. He confirmed that Thomas Warner is still considered a missing person and the case is still open. Mr. Williams retired from the force about five years after this incident, but…well, there aren’t a whole lot of care facilities that deal with his issues and will take people under a certain age, and it just so happens that he turned out to be in the same place as…my mother, despite it being at the other end of the country, so it wasn’t hard for me to get in to talk to him, especially since he never gets—got, I guess—visitors. He was dying when I went in to see him, but his mind was sharp enough, or at least as sharp as it needed to be. He told me a bit more about his conversation with the ‘bright young spark’ who set him on the right path, and he was really concerned about him. I’m glad I could ease his distress enough to let him know that Jon was alive and well, and that I promised I’d look after him.

“He died before I could also assure him the book wouldn’t ever hurt another child again, but I hope it will comfort anyone listening to this tape to know that A Guest for Mister Spider was the first Leitner my siblings and I found and destroyed when we decided to start burning them. I didn’t regret burning it then, and I regret it even less now.”

Click.

Jon pressed both his hands over his mouth, staring at the tape recorder, which had suddenly become very blurry. Hot, wet tears dripped onto his thumbs and he didn’t even try to stop them.

He didn’t remember. He couldn’t remember any officers he’d spoken to about what had happened, or either of them telling him they believed him, any more than he’d been able to remember Thomas Warner’s name. To suddenly find out that one of them had believed him, that someone had known all along he wasn’t making it up, was almost more than he could stand.

And the gentleness in Martin’s voice when he spoke about it almost broke him. Martin had recognized right away that it was Jon in the statement, had gone out of his way to validate and reassure Jon that it wasn’t a figment of his imagination, and then even after Jon had returned, he’d kept him from having to confront it before he was ready.

Come find me if you need me.

Jon did. He needed him more badly than he had ever needed anyone or anything in his life. And he was trying to find him, but…maybe he was going about it the wrong way. Maybe he needed help.

The question was going to be how he found that help.

It took him an hour to figure it out, most of which was spent panicking over whether he should be doing this in the first place or should ask anyone else to help him with this part. Once he’d worked it out, though, he waited until the others had gone to lunch, then shrugged into the jumper he’d pilfered from Martin headed down into the tunnels.

He hadn’t been down in them since the first day he’d been back at the Institute, since the team had shoved him and Martin down to debrief one another. They were still cool and slightly oppressive, but they also felt…private, in a way very little else in Jon’s world did anymore. As long as he didn’t spend too long down here, it might be a good way to keep himself from going completely round the bend if he took a bit of time to sit and miss Martin in solitude.

First, though, he had a task to complete. For a moment he thought about venturing further into the tunnels, but he very quickly realized that would be stupid; he had no idea what direction to head, and if he missed his target he would never forgive himself.

Instead, he sat on the bottom step and waited.

He had no idea how long it had been—minutes? Hours?—before he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Jon took a deep, silent breath, got to his feet, counted mentally to three, and switched on his torch.

“Daisy,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.

Daisy Tonner stood a few feet away, frozen like a deer in the headlights—or perhaps more accurately like a wolf in the headlights: still, but with her every muscle tensed for action, her eyes cold with anger and menace, her gaze fixed directly on him. She hadn’t even flinched away from the sudden light.

“What do you want?” she growled.

Jon swallowed hard. She still terrified him, and he didn’t doubt for a minute that she would kill him if given the opportunity. The stairs at his back were his only asset right now—the stairs, the door, and the knowledge that she didn’t know for sure that nobody outside would hear if she tore his throat out here and now. There was no sense in beating about the bush; he’d need to make his case as quickly and concisely as possible. “I want you to find Martin.”

“I’m not your bloody errand boy.” Daisy crossed her arms over her chest and glowered. “Bouchard might have me on a leash, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to fetch and carry and send messages to—”

“No, you don’t understand, he’s missing,” Jon interrupted, which was dangerous, but so was letting her think he just wanted her to do menial tasks about the Archives. “We were out on the street in front of the Institute and we got chased down by a delivery van—Breekon and Hope, the, the same ones that you told me about i-in your statement. They kidnapped him.”

Daisy snorted, sounding unimpressed. “Go to the police.”

“I am going to the police. It’s the Magnus Institute, that’s an automatic Section Thirty-One.”

“Just because you’re right about that doesn’t mean I’d even be the one who was going to investigate it.”

“I thought you were the only sectioned detective right now. Besides…” Jon gestured helplessly. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t…i-it’s been over a month. I know Elias has had you doing…other things. But I can’t just—if I go to the police now they’ll want to know why I waited so long. And you’re the only one I…”

The word trust curled up and dried out on his tongue. He didn’t trust her, couldn’t trust her. She’d tried to kill him for no reason, on no evidence, with no witnesses, and the only reason she hadn’t was because Basira had convinced her to hold off for now. Neither Basira nor Martin was there to protect or save him. If he screamed, he was pretty sure Melanie would come down, but he didn’t know which one would prevail in a fight and he refused to let anyone else get hurt in his place if he could help it.

He stood his ground, with a superhuman effort, and met Daisy’s eyes. “You owe me.”

“Owe you?” Daisy spat, and Jon would have taken a step backwards if there had been anything other than stairs behind him. “How the fuck do I owe you anything?”

For an answer, Jon traced the scar across his throat with two fingers. Six weeks meant it had faded to the point that it was nothing more than a slightly raised red line; he occasionally found himself rubbing it with his thumb like a worry stone, but at least it didn’t hurt anymore. Daisy’s eyes locked onto it, and there was something…hungry in them that Jon didn’t like.

It occurred to him, fleetingly, that the reason he didn’t like it was less because she was staring at his throat with that look and more because it was uncomfortably close to the way Martin looked at the statements on occasion.

Forcing the thought back, he said, a bit hoarsely, “I didn’t go to the police about what happened, even after what Elias said. You know I have that on tape. They would have had to believe me, and they would have…”

That fast, Daisy’s eyes snapped back up to Jon’s, blazing with anger. “You think I should be fucking grateful that you, what, saved my life?”

“Not yours. Basira’s.” Jon was aware that the beam of the torch was trembling, but he didn’t bother making himself stop. “I-I wouldn’t have, I don’t…but, but if that tape ever got into the hands of the police, Basira would be just as liable as you. That’s the only reason I didn’t say anything to the police, but I also didn’t tell Elias I had it. I gave him one less thread to hang on you, one less—one less thing to hold over Basira.”

Daisy tensed. Jon was pretty sure he’d said entirely the wrong thing and was about to die. “Why do you care so much? Don’t like other people taking your toys?”

“He’s not a toy.” For just a moment, anger overcame Jon’s fear, and he bristled at Daisy. “He’s the most important person in the world to me. I care about him more than anything, and not knowing where he is is killing me. I just—I need him to be safe, and you’re the only person I can think of who might be able to find him, if Elias hasn’t by now.” The anger left him all at once, and he added more softly, “Please, Daisy. It was me they wanted, and they took him instead. How would you feel if Basira was kidnapped in your place?”

Daisy stared at Jon hard. He held his breath, realizing he’d probably said too much, but waited it out. He’d cast his dice. All he could do now was see how they landed.

After long enough that a cold bead of sweat wended its way down the full length of his spine, she gave a sigh that sounded somewhere between exasperated, angry, and resigned. “I can’t make any promises. But I’ll do what I can.”

Jon exhaled hard. The torch drooped in his hand. “Thank you.”

“Whatever. Get out of my way. I’ve got a fucking meeting.” Daisy shoved Jon to one side and stomped up the steps.

Jon didn’t follow her. Instead, he sank back down onto the steps, his whole body trembling as the adrenaline flooded out of him. He tugged the jumper a bit tighter around his shoulders and hunched into it, leaning over and pressing the side of his face against the cool stone of the wall.

That had been an absolutely terrifying experience. It wasn’t just the fact of having faced down Daisy, who was still the thing that scared him most besides the possibility of never seeing Martin again. He really, really hadn’t enjoyed threatening Basira, whether he meant it or not. He tried to rationalize it—it wasn’t as though he’d actually meant to hurt her, or cause harm to come to her, it was just that he was letting Daisy know that if he’d chosen to do it, he could have. He wouldn’t have, but the truth was that he had the means to, and if that meant Daisy understood why he was willing to face her down and ask for her help…

No. No, he couldn’t rationalize it like that. Regardless of his intentions, he’d still done it, and that wasn’t something he wanted to get in the habit of doing. He would need to apologize to Basira later. Maybe get Melanie to help him figure out ways to…not do that again, at least until Martin was back to help him.

But not right then. Right then he was going to stay where he was and let himself hurt. He was going to give himself some time to miss Martin, and be afraid for him. And then, once he’d reminded himself that Martin would come home, and that he’d be okay, he would head back upstairs and deal with whatever consequences he had brought on himself.

For the moment, though, he simply hunched into himself, wrapped his arms as far around himself as he could, and tried his hardest not to cry.

#ollie writes fanfic #tma fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#jonathan sims #sasha james #martin blackwood (sorta)#daisy tonner #pining #anxiety #grief #mention of police brutality #intimidation #threats

3 notes · View notes

jo3ydr3w · 1 year

Text

Joey Drew BITE Paper

Uploading this here because AO3 won’t stop freezing enough to let me put out the new update. Reminder, I’ve only read The Illusion of Living and the Joey Drew Studios Employee Handbook.

With Bendy and the Dark Revival’s release, we have again acquired new audio logs from the employees of Joey Drew Studios and the Gent Corporation (BATDR audio logs. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). I was very excited when the first audio log from the game I heard by Grant Cohen mentioned money randomly appearing and disappearing (YouTube. (2022, November 18).). Unfortunately, this wouldn’t have been enough to update my BITE paper, so there must be more additions, right? Right!

Joey Drew is manipulative and seems determined to control those around him. Many of his behaviors are alarming and should raise red flags for the people around him. He is displaying a lot of the behavior we see in cult leaders (Advisors, 2022). We can prove this If we turn to the “BITE” model. “BITE” stands for Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotional control (Advisors, 2022). The BITE model is set up with four categories. There are 50 main points, and he hits 46 of them. Many main points have several sub-points. Joey Drew hits on Behavior 22 out of 25, Information all 6, Thought all 11, and Emotional 7 out of 8.

1. Regulate individual’s physical reality - This is the whole point of the game. Their physical world and how they perceive it has changed. It’s become precisely what Joey wants it to be (Ink machine. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).).

2. Dictate where, how, and with whom the member lives and associates or isolates - When Joey installs the pipes for the ink machine, they leak. This causes Sammy and others to become trapped in the music department multiple times. Quote from Sammy’s audio log about the pump switch and the ink flooding the place,

“three times last month, we couldn't even get out of our department because the ink had flooded the stairwell” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

Joey installs a pump to deal with it but controls when it is drained and who leaves. The pump switch is in Sammy's office, but he doesn’t seem to control it as people are “in and out” dealing with it (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). What’s interesting about the pump switch being in Sammy’s office is that in The Illusion of Living, Joey says this on page 227,

“I never visit Music, as Sammy and I agreed that I would only come by if we had scheduled a visit. Some creative people are just that stubborn and need their privacy” (Kress, A. (2021).).

This is interesting because that implies that Joey was never draining the pump switch itself and that possibly Gent employees were. Maybe this is why Sammy was so angry with the switch being installed in his office because Joey was breaking an agreement he had made personally with Sammy.

Hank Scott’s audio log in Bendy and the Dark Revival explains the origins of a new area in the game, Artist’s Rest. Joey built the area to give the employees a place to sleep/live in the studio. According to Hank, “you practically have only a few hours before you have to wake up and come back,” and, according to Joey, “now we never have to leave work again” (YouTube. (2022, November 18).). That entire area was built to KEEP employees in the studio and isolate them from the rest of the world.

Joey also doesn’t want employees to leave the building for medical issues as well, page 34 of the employee handbook,

“there’s no need to recuperate at home–come visit the infirmary” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

This is again stated on page 186,

“employees who feel sick need not stay home; simply stop by the infirmary on your way to your desk. There you’ll find a menagerie of treatments and medicines to help you feel better and back to work in no time–no pesky recovery time required” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

It also seems that Joey didn’t want the excuse of needing food to keep employees from the studio, page 41 of the employee handbook,

“by now, we’re sure you’re wondering, What’s with all the soup? As part of Bendy’s licensing agreement with Briar Label Bacon Soup, the Briar Label Company has stacked Joey Drew Studios from roof to sub-sub-sub-sub-basement with free soup as a thank-you. Made from a traditional family recipe, Briar Label Bacon Soup tastes just like the home-kitchen cooking that Mom used to make. Rather than going out for lunch, please indulge in a free meal on us while you work at your desk–forks are available upon request. After eating, please leave your dirty bowls in the dedicated shelving in the stairwell for Wally Franks” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

He also controlled who employees could talk to, page 193 of the employee handbook, “Employees of Joey Drew Studios will soon get to reap all the wonderful benefits of Bendyland. In addition to a free lifetime pass* (well, as long as you stay employed here, but that’ll be a lifetime!), you also get up to four guest passes, should you somehow mingle with people who aren’t your direct coworkers” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

4. Control types of clothing and hairstyles - Quote from page 183 of the employee handbook,

“we observe a casual dress policy at the studio to foster an atmosphere conducive to creativity, but please keep in mind that business attire may be required for high-level meetings. We ask that you convene with your supervisor if you are unsure of the dress code for a particular event” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

I find this interesting, as it’s just assumed that the employees knew what the dress code was without asking. Joey also doesn’t give any examples here, so it really feels like he was just expecting them to know the second they were hired.

5. Regulate diet – food and drink, hunger and/or fasting - Joey appears to be aware of Sammy drinking ink, which is clearly an unhealthy habit. Other employees, specifically Buddy, are also aware, but no one says anything or tries to help him (Sammy Lawrence. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).).

6. Manipulation and deprivation of sleep - The motto for the animation studio is “Work hard work happy”

(" Travaille Dur, Travaille heureux ": Bendy y la máquina de tinta, Bendy y Boris, imagenes de videojuegos. Pinterest. (2017, October 8).). Sammy complains about being overworked and Joey leaving things to the last minute. He says his work is causing nightmares and unusual sleep (YouTube. (2019).). Bill Danton’s audio log Dancing Clock has Bill state he has “thousands of frames to go.” He seems out of breath and starts out of control laughing towards the end (YouTube. (2022, November 18).). The mental well-being of employees wasn’t a priority to Joey. Even when Joey wasn’t directly interfering with work and stopping them from working when they needed sleep, other employees seemed to be disrupting work. Phil seems excited that Joey hasn’t been bothering him as he’s able to get work done, but a “freak” a few desks over is starting to drive him crazy by constantly asking to look at “pictures he’s been drawing” (YouTube. (2022, November 18).).

7. Financial exploitation, manipulation or dependence - Joey demands Grant lie on IRS report sheets (Staff, S. I. (2019).). If Grant is caught, this will reflect on him; he’d have to prove this was Joey’s idea and that he was being forced. Quote from page 83 of the employee handbook,

“from: Grant Cohen

To: Joey Drew

Mister Drew, I really do need to speak with you as soon as possible. Like I said in my last note, we’re running $48,128 short this quarter. We won’t be able to cover our taxes; I’m fielding daily calls from the IRS looking for our payments. There’s not enough in the accounts right now to cover everything, even if I move some funds around and fudge the numbers. I’ve also received several sizable bills from Gent, which I’ll need to account for, besides the Bendyland payments, which we won’t be able to make again this month. Can you please have your girl call down to me when you’re next available” (Staff, S. I. (2019).). Grant’s newest audio log, Strange Money, reveals that money was mysteriously showing up on the finance records. Money that was untraceable and impossible to hunt down (YouTube. (2022, November 18).). Grant wasn’t aware of what a lot of the money was used on, despite what Joey tries to claim, quote from pages 80-81 of the employee handbook,

“accounting has final approval over department budgets, salaries, new hires, etc. Should you encounter any issues with your paycheck, your claim will likely go through Accounting with the help of Administration. [...]

From Grant Cohen, Accounting & Finance

RE: Employee Backpay

Valued Employee, You are receiving this letter to notify you that you are owed BACKPAY IN THE AMOUNT OF $60.76. As our company awaits an influx of revenue from recent investments, we are unable to pay you. Rest assured that we are monitoring the situation closely and will offer you relief as soon as funds become available. We do not anticipate this period to last more than several weeks. Please feel free to visit Accounting & Finance on Level S with any further questions. [...]

Special Projects………………………..$64,921. 98 [...]

Mister Drew, we can’t afford these high figures on special projects any longer. Please limit your spending or find additional investors–we’re on the verge of being in the red again this year” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

We know that Grant and Joey were the only people that were aware of the tax evasion and fraud, as page 226 from The Illusion of Living states,

“10:00 am.: Meet with Accounting. This is usually very short, just a moment for Mr. Cohen to let me know if there is anything in particular we need to pay attention to, but as you can imagine the financial security of Joey Drew Studios is so sound that really it’s just another excuse for a coffee and a chat” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Then on the bottom of the page where Nathan Arch Sr. has left his thoughts as notes,

“it’s a sad fact that even in 1942 the studio was struggling financially, and it’s hard to know if Joey was aware of this at the time of writing the book. On the one hand, I like to think he was, considering he was always so proud of how intimately he knew his studio. But on the other hand, I sometimes prefer thinking he had no idea, that others were lying to him instead of him lying to himself” (Kress, A. (2021).).

This quote from Nathan is fascinating as it contradicts an audio log by Joey found in the game Boris and the Dark Survival, a quote from the audio log,

“it's been quite a struggle to put this into words, Nathan. After so many years, you know I'd never ask unless it was dire, but when a man's in a spot, he should call upon his friends! Truth is...Well, the studio is comin' up a little short” (YouTube. (2021, October 13).). Nathan knew that Joey was well aware that the studio was in debt and needed help financially.

Nathan, however, is somewhat correct in the fact that employees were hiding things from Joey, quote from the employee handbook, page 204,

“Bendy is our most beloved character here at Joey Drew Studios. As such, he has a strict model that all of our animators are asked to follow” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Joey here isn’t aware of the fact that the animators are sharing one single reference sheet that has all of Bendy’s emotions on it and has them labeled for what emotion he should be showing at the scene

(Amino. (2020, April 28).). They also have on the sheet not to show Joey that they were using just one expression. It seems like they were scared of him finding out.

Grant seems not to be able to handle either the pressure of knowing about the fraud and random money or has developed paranoia from it as Sally Newt, a secretary at the studio, wrote a note that mentioned Grant “just walks from his desk down to the men’s room and back all day. Over and over again, gripping his stomach. Kind of green in the gills. I can’t tell if something he ate isn’t agreeing with him, or if he just can’t take the pressure anymore” (Getting serious. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). I was pushed to the paranoia option once I heard the Hiding Treasures audio log recorded by Kay Lee, as she says, “Mr. Cohen brought me in to catalog and secure some of Joey Drew’s more special assets in places no one will ever find them. Sure, that sounds completely legal” (YouTube. (2022, November 18).). I also noticed that in The Illusion of Living, Joey says this about Grant’s work schedule, page 205,

“somewhere I imagined the film team might be working, or even possibly Cohen on the accounts (he liked to arrive at the studio late and stay late, and as long as a man gets the job done, what do I care if his schedule is a bit unusual?)” (Kress, A. (2021).). I think it’s very concerning that Grant was known to be running back and forth from the bathrooms, acting paranoid, begging Joey to get the paychecks on time, and showing up late (Grant Cohen. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). It seems to me that Grant was dealing with some form of depression because of the studio.

It also seems that Grant, or perhaps another employee that was aware of the financial status of the company spoke out about the possibility of the studio closing soon

(The archive. Joey Drew Studios. (n.d.).).

I’m of the belief that it was most likely Grant that did the interview for the article. As the article states,

“according to recent reports coming from the studio, it seems that trouble is spreading like spilled ink. One employee who asked to remain anonymous told The Telegram that he doubts the company will be able to sustain much longer. Some of the reasons given for the financial difficulties are rocketing expenses related to what he referred to as ‘Joey’s folly’. When asked for clarification he confusingly told us he ‘feared the machine’ and didn’t want to comment further” (The archive. Joey Drew Studios. (n.d.).). The reason I think this was Grant is that he’s the only person that would be aware of how deep in debt the studio was and how much the ink machine was costing the studio. Quote from one of his audio logs,

“speaking of which, and this is top secret, apparently Mr. Drew has another large project in mind now... and it ain't gonna be cheap” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).His death was recorded on an audio log, something we haven’t seen, to my knowledge, with any other studio employee (Indiscernible. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). Maybe Joey found out and killed Grant for it.This isn’t even the first time employee’s have spoken out about the finances of the studio, a year prior, in 1946, an article by the World Herald was published about this, pages 120-121 of the employee handbook,

“Joey Drew Studios Under Investigation Financial Trouble Looming For Animation Company

New York, NY–Joey Drew Studios is under investigation, with former employees citing hazardous work environments, harassment, and excessive backpay. The company is also in danger of going bankrupt, according to investors. “These accusations are preposterous–they’re ridiculous,” said Joey Drew, founder and president of the company. “I vehemently deny them. These are sad lies no doubt made by disgruntled former employees or competing studios. Our facility is state-of-the-art. Joey Drew Studios is where dreams happen. And it’s where dreams are going to happen. We have no financial troubles at all.”Anonymous workers at Joey Drew Studios have threatened to unionize over the poor conditions, which include unpermitted building, hazardous electrical wiring, and a plumbing system prone to bursting, Many employees also cite excessive work hours, most of which were unpaid. Several animators’ confided that they hadn’t seen their families in weeks, after being threatened with disciplinary action and termination if they were unable to finish animations on exceedingly tight schedules. Music director Sammy Lawrence seemed unfazed by the claims. “Joey runs a pretty tight ship. Some people can’t take it, and that’s fine. This industry is all about survival of the fittest. We don’t need a bunch of useless sheep who can’t finish their work on time.”Despite the mounting evidence against the company, Mister Drew remains adamant that the studio has done nothing wrong. “I am so certain that there’s nothing wrong with our studio, I not only welcome investigators–I invite them,” said Drew. “Reports of barricaded offices, employees locked in work spaces, and malfunctioning machinery are just crazy. And about the money, why, we just installed new technology in partnership with the Gent Corporation! We certainly wouldn’t have done that if we were going bankrupt! In fact, we’re on the verge of taking our business to the next level. I can’t wait to show everyone what we have in store with our new cartoons.”

City officials have reported that they will be exploring these complaints against the company in the coming weeks, to determine if the claims have any merit. In the meantime, employees seem to be fleeing the studio in droves. Recent job listings have included a head of animation, several background and character artists. If his staffing issues are as bad as they seem, one must wonder if Mister Drew intends to draw future cartoons himself” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

He also says this on page 193 of the employee handbook,

“Employees of Joey Drew Studios will soon get to reap all the wonderful benefits of Bendyland. In addition to a free lifetime pass*. [...] You’ll also get a 40 percent discount to use on your purchases.** [...]

*The Bendyland Employee Pass is not valid on New Year’s Day, Groundhog Day, Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday, Valentine’s Day, Chinese New Year, Purim, Holi, St. Patrick’s Day, Good Friday, Easter Sunday, Easter Monday, Passover, Tax Day, Cinco de Mayo, Mother’s Day, Ramadan, Memorial Day, Flag Day, Father’s Day, Eid al-Fitr, Independence Day, Labor Day, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Columbus Day, Navarati, Halloween, All Saints’ Day, Veterans Day, The Day Before Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Weekend, or all the month of December. Also not valid during work hours or blackout dates,

**Employee discount is limited to a one-time use only. Discount voucher not valid on toys, food, apparel, bedding, churros that aren’t being used as food but are being used as–well, ask Mr. Franks–books, stationery, cold weather gear, hot weather gear, drinks, jewelry, Bacon Soup, or keychains” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Most of the days I can agree with for the pass not being valid on, but I can’t understand Groundhog Day and Valentine’s Day not being valid days. I also don’t understand what the employees were supposed to use the 40 percent discount on if the above-listed items don’t apply to it. The only thing I can think of that you would be able to use it on would be your entry ticket.

8. Restrict leisure, entertainment, vacation time - He is their boss, so he controls this. He tends to take it too far and overwork them. Some employees report staying in the studio for days (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Quote from page 187 of the employee handbook,

“for this reason, employees are only eligible for five days of paid leave a year. Absences above that number–due to illness or otherwise–will likely result in immediate termination” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

At first, I was shocked when I read the five days figure, but then I remembered this what the 1930/40s, so I thought it might have been normal at the time. I decided to look into it and was shocked. It was not normal at the time.

Even back in 1940, you were given 7-14 days off on average, quote from a labor review from 1940,

“the majority of these workers receive a maximum of 1 week’s vacation with pay after 1 year’s service within the company. [...] provide a 2-week maximum for all or a part of a working force” (Vacations with pay in union agreements, - JSTOR. (n.d.).).

The craziest part of the Joey Drew Studios’ employee leave, is that they actually do NOT get paid leave. Joey states this on page 188 of the employee handbook,

“in some animation studios we will not name, employees are given paid vacation time, and while that all sounds fine and dandy, we must ask: Why, in Bendy’s good name, would anyone need to take a vacation from their job unless they hated it?” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

I didn’t even add the italics for emphasis on that quote. They’re actually in the book. Joey hated the idea of spending money for employees to take paid vacations that he just had to show his disgust for it in a book for new hires.

In fact, you don’t actually get access to vacation time until you’ve worked at the company for multiple years, page 189 of the employee handbook,

“once your company loyalty is proven with five years of continuous service, Joey Drew Studios is thrilled to offer five days of unpaid vacation time, with which we hope you’ll take your family on a wholesome, well-earned trip to our Bendyland amusement park when it’s complete” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

This is also only available once you’ve “built up this trust with the company” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

10. Permission required for major decisions - Employees were told there were no financial struggles with the studio when there were. They were told not to question the leader and just do whatever they did (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

11. Rewards and punishments used to modify behaviors, both positive and negative - Joey took Susie to lunch, paid for it, and called her by her preferred name (the character she voices). She’s intoxicated with him and loves being called Alice. It makes her believe she is Alice (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Joey has a reward system mentioned on page 190 of the employee handbook,

“employee of the month

This is a new initiative that we’ll be starting soon: Employee of the Month. How it works is simple. Joey Drew was the first employee, so he’ll be the first employee of the month. If anyone is better than him, they get to be employee of the month. So far no one’s usurped Joey…but maybe that will change with you” (Staff, S. I. (2019).). I’d also like to point out that Joey is using the system to make employees act differently.

12. Discourage individualism, encourage group-think - Employees were told there were no financial difficulties with the studio when there were. They were told not to question the leader and just do whatever it was they did (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). The motto for the studio is “work hard work happy” (" Travaille Dur, Travaille heureux ": Bendy y la máquina de tinta, Bendy y Boris, imagenes de videojuegos. Pinterest. (2017, October 8).) This encourages long hours, as we see with Sammy (YouTube. (2019).). This can make employees feel like a family. Joey even refers to the characters and employees as family quote from page 129 of the employee handbook,

“as the creator of Bendy, Boris the Wolf, and Alice Angel, Mister Drew views these characters and his employees as his family, and he always makes time for family” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Then he also calls Thomas family in the description of what his job is, page 179,

“while Thomas isn’t strictly an employee of the studio, he is like family to us” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

He even refers to the administration department as home, quote from page 181 of the employee handbook,

“this sprawling layout is designed to house the nearly seventy employees who call Administration home” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Then has new hires call the other employees family, page 185 of the employee handbook,

“take a minute to say hello to your new teammates as they welcome you to the Joey Drew family” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

This concept of the studio being “family” is once again repeated in the book, page 190,

“holiday bonuses

The holidays are time for family…and when you’re here, you’re part of Joey’s family. To thank you for all your hard work, we are pleased to reward our employees the opportunity to earn overtime by working Christmas, so you can celebrate our work with the ones you love most–Bendy, Boris the Wolf, and Alice Angel” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

13. Impose rigid rules and regulations - He expected people to do as they were told, don’t question, work long hours, and complete questionable behavior (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). According to the employee handbook, you only get one bathroom break a day, page 170,

“restroom: To your left you will find the restrooms. This is important to note, as you’ll be spending a lot of time in the Animation Department and will need to use the toilet probably no more than once a day” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

14. Punish disobedience by beating, torture, burning, cutting, rape, or tattooing/branding - Page 120 of the employee handbook,

“Several animators’ confided that they hadn’t seen their families in weeks, after being threatened with disciplinary action and termination if they were unable to finish animations on exceedingly tight schedules” (Staff, S. I. (2019).). Joey threatened the safety of employees if they didn’t get work done.

15. Threaten harm to family and friends - Page 120 of the employee handbook,

“several animators’ confided that they hadn’t seen their families in weeks after being threatened with disciplinary action and termination” after being threatened with disciplinary action and termination” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

16. Force individual to rape or be raped - There is no proof of this.

17. Encourage and engage in corporal punishment - Page 120 of the employee handbook,

“music director Sammy Lawrence seemed unfazed by the claims. “Joey runs a pretty tight ship. Some people can’t take it, and that’s fine. This industry is all about survival of the fittest. We don’t need a bunch of useless sheep who can’t finish their work on time” (Staff, S. I. (2019).). It seems to me that Joey was teaching Sammy or manipulating him into hurting other employees.

18. Instill dependency and obedience - Joey tells them not to question him (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Bertrum says that Joey might pay him but does not own him. It almost feels like the subject has come up, as he is very aggressive about it (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Employees mention money a lot (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

A quote from the “Bendy Goes Bankrupt” article,

“another man, who also wished to remain nameless, gave a public rebuttal of Mr. Drew’s ‘just a pencil and a dream’ philosophy: “Mr. Drew, the pencil can be erased; mistakes removed and revisions made to suit the changing landscape of your world. But ink. Ink stains forever. Ink creates truths that cannot be erased or altered. Ink is permanent…just like the effect you’ve had on everyone around you and your studio. Mr. Drew, your world is NOT a world of graphite, but of INK” (The archive. Joey Drew Studios. (n.d.).).

Even though this employee spoke out about Joey, they stayed, despite knowing it was the worst thing to do. Joey was able to instill such dependency in his employees that they would constantly speak out about him but never left.

There’s also a section in The Illusion of Living where Joey praises Henry for being obedient to the reader, page 175,

“we looked at each other and it was in that moment I knew that Henry had a part to play. That he was in. He was all in. A shared vision. It was, after all, what I’d been looking for in a teammate.

“You want a job?” I asked.

“I want to be your partner.”

“Partner.”

“Yeah. At Joey Drew Studios.”

That suggestion gave me pause. You have to understand that when you’ve lived with an idea that has belonged to just you for so long, it’s hard to imagine sharing it. But this evening had shown me how valuable others could be. How an idea of mine could be realized through the efforts of others. Henry’s keenness, the work he’d put in even before I’d opened the door to him. His own cartoons on that factory wall. His animation skills. Didn’t hurt that he didn’t want to change the name of the studio even as a partner. That showed respect” (Kress, A. (2021).). Henry created the Bendy character, yet Joey felt he didn’t even deserve to have his name in the company title. Then praises him for being so obedient and not wanting to change Joey’s mind about the name. Even if you agree with Joey that the studio name shouldn’t have been changed, I’m sure you can admit that his praising Henry to the reader is very bizarre and controlling.

He seems to be able to instill obedience in anyone, even if it’s just minor obedience, page 54 of The Illusion of Living,

“I have always considered myself a humble man, in fact many have praised this quality in me. It’s true that despite my success and fame, I remain constant to my values as a person” (Kress, A. (2021).).

This also happens with Abby, page 68, “she nodded this time. I liked when she agreed” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey seems determined to have control over everyone for whatever reason he wants at the time, quote from page 92,

“even though I knew the piece was a lovely little work of remarkable talent, I have to admit that the outside validation definitely solidified this next step on the path to my greatness. I knew now I was not only a natural storyteller but understood perfectly in the moment what to do to entertain an audience, how to make them react exactly as I wanted them to. I had complete control and it was clear, I had to tell stories then, there was no question. That was the way I was going to share my Illusion of Living with the world” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Even Lottie seems to be completely obedient to him even while she’s an ocean away, quote from page 37 of The Illusion of Living,

“I knew my letters were of great comfort because she told me often and praised my ability to turn a phrase” (Kress, A. (2021).).

19. Kidnapping - There is no proof of this.

20. Beating There is no proof of this one.

21. Torture - Joey puts people through the ink machine. He even records himself killing Grant (Indiscernible. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).).

22. Rape - There is no proof, but I think it still needs to be discussed. Susie seems infatuated with Joey. Due to their employee arrangement, Joey shouldn’t be sleeping with her. They aren’t just working together; he is her boss in a small company. This would be taking advantage of her. While there is no proof they were together at any time, I can see him doing this to keep control.

23. Separation of Families - Henry was separated from his romantic partner (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

24. Imprisonment - Many people are locked inside that studio and can never get out (Joey Drew Studios. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).).

25. Murder - Joey murdered many people. He recorded himself killing Grant (Indiscernible. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). He even brings Sammy into it by corrupting him (Sammy Lawrence. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).).

1. Deception:

a. Deliberately withhold information - Tells the people not to worry and trust the leader. He talks about destiny and the bigger picture (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

b. Distort information to make it more acceptable - He tells people they can do anything if they dream. The tape keeps running, and he doesn’t realize it’s still on. He calls what he is saying “trash” and “slop,” and he says people “eat it up” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

c. Systematically lie to the cult member - He lies when he is distorting the information. He’s looking for the best way to put the information, so people will eat it up (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

Quote from page 70 of The Illusion of Living,

“Heck even in those rare occasions when people would say that Henry created Bendy, Boris, or Alice because they had met him once and he’d spoken about the creation process with them, I was happy to let people think it. A man who is secure with himself doesn’t need to set things right. He just lives his life knowing the truth.

That being said, I did invent all the cartoon characters at the studio. That goes without saying. They are mine, my inspiration, based on my life experiences. Anyone who says anything differently is lying or has been lied to” (Kress, A. (2021).).

There are a lot of lies in these two paragraphs, but I want to get the funny part out of the way first. Joey states that secure people don’t have to prove themselves, then tries to prove himself. It almost seems like Joey isn’t confident in himself. I want to tackle the elephant in the room next. Who created the three characters Joet lists here, Bendy, Boris, and Alice?

Let’s start with Bendy.

Something I find interesting is that Joey cuts Abby out of Bendy’s origin story. It’s not just Joey who does this. I’ve seen people who’ve read The Illusion of Living purposely cut Abby and, in widespread cases, cut Henry out as well. It seems even real people have managed to fall for Joey’s lies, deception, and manipulation.

Quote from page 166,

“so…” she said, slowly finding the idea intriguing, I could tell, “like a small boy playing pranks” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Abby came up with the idea of Bendy, before he was even Bendy, before the night with Henry, that he should play pranks. Playing pranks on people is a staple of Bendy’s character in the shorts. One could even argue that it’s his “main job” in the shorts.

Henry came up with the design for Bendy, pages 171-173,

“no, what I saw in front of me was a cartoon character that had the slightest beginnings of Bendy. He still looked like a real boy but now was a proper cartoon. His clothes had been made minimalist. His face was rounder, his nose didn’t exist anymore, and he had those typical black cartoon eyes that were especially popular back then. [...] Henry sat still for a moment, the pencil hovering over the paper. He was deep in thought, or so I hoped. “Ah!” he suddenly said to himself and started sketching again.

This was the first glimpse I had of something like Bendy. It wasn’t Bendy, not yet, but the body was almost there. The shape was right, but he was wearing a shirt and shorts, as well as a pair of boots. [...] The shape of the body had taken form, it was starting to look right. His face was all wrong though, still very goatlike and with a small beard. He still needed to look young, that little devilish boy that hadn’t worked still had to be there somewhere. He wasn’t a boy though, and he wasn’t a goat. He was something fantastical, a little devil.

“His face doesn’t need to look real,” I said then.

“More like a shape maybe?” asked Henry. I didn’t understand what he meant, everything obviously was made up of shapes.

“What do you mean?”

Henry started to sketch as he spoke, I had inspired him somehow. Seeing his pencil fly so fast was truly exhilarating. He explained: “It needs to be a circle, but with horns. They should be black like his body, but his face should be white so we can see his expressions. Those classic cartoon eyes. No nose. A big toothy grin”” (Kress, A. (2021).).

The creator of Boris is a bit more speculative, but I believe it was Henry, as this audio log states,

“I’ve got a new character I think people are going to love” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).Then the short Sheep Songs is produced, and Boris is introduced in it, in 1929, during the year that Henry was working there (Staff, S. I. (2019).). That heavily implies that Henry created Boris, to me, at least. The only character he mentions he created on his own would be Alice, as she was introduced in either 1932 or 1933. I say either year because there’s a discrepancy in what year Alice was introduced. Susie recorded an audio log on August 2nd, 1932, where she states, “Sammy, our…our music director…was also telling me they’re working on a new character upstairs. Might require a female touch” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

Then, two months later records another one stating,

“It may only be my second month working for Joey Drew, but I can already tell I'm going to love it here! People really seem to enjoy my Alice Angel voice” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). This would mean that by October of 1932, Susie was already voicing Alice. This doesn’t make sense, though, as Sent From Above, the short Alice debuted in, was released on September 12th, 1933.

Quote from pages 54-55 of the employee handbook,

“The Erie Daily Times

12 September 1933

Joey Drew Studios Debuts Alice Angel

New York, NY–Joining the ranks of beloved cartoon characters Bendy and Boris the Wolf is Alice Angel, the newest character at Joey Drew Studios. [...] She will be voiced by actress Susie Campbell” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

The soon-to-be-released novel, Sent From Above, appears from its cover and description to be about Alice Angel and is going to be set in

“the summer of 1932 in New York City, and word on the street is that Joey Drew Studios is planning something BIG: A new cartoon character to star alongside the world-famous Bendy!

The new addition, Alice Angel, has the halo and sweet disposition to match her name” (Sent from above (novel). Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). While the date is confusing, Alice appears to be one of Joey’s creations.

Sammy had a bit to do with Alice being created, a quote from page 193 of The Illusion of Living,

“”you need a girl,” said Sammy.

“We have plans,” I replied. We did; we didn’t know exactly what we were going to do at that point, or what she would look like, but we had plans” (Kress, A. (2021).).

It seems to me that maybe Joey made plans to create Alice go faster because of Sammy or that he was at the very least involved with the creative process, as Susie states in an audio log,

“Sammy, our…our music director…was also telling me they’re working on a new character upstairs” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

In a different section of the book, Joey thinks this when talking to the detective Adam Sinclair, page 109,

“so I lied. I’m not one who enjoys lying, I’ve always been an honest, direct kind of fellow. I believe a man should stand by his word. But I also know that sometimes the ends do justify the means. And that sometimes a lie isn’t so bad if it’s for a good reason” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He also lies to the reader of the employee handbook, an in-universe book meant for new hires at the studio, page 30,

“if you belong to a department that has access to a closet, you can ask your manager for keys to it; otherwise most closets usually remain locked to deter thieves or inefficiency” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

This is a lie as we know that Joey wasn’t letting employees into the closets based on Wally’s audio log from Boris and the Dark Survival,

“so here's where the weird starts. I was moppin' up some of Mr. Connor's spilled ink in that little room he calls a laboratory. He can call it a laboratory all he wants, but it used to be the employee coat closet. Anyway, there I was moppin'. But that puddle, I'm tellin' ya, it kept movin' this way and that way like it had the smarts or somethin'” (YouTube. (2021, October 13).).

It’s not even just big things he’s lying about. He’ll lie about the smallest things. Quote from page 191 of the employee handbook, “we celebrate Bendy’s birthday (the day Bendy was created–there’s devil’s food cake!), Alice Angel’s birthday (angel food cake!), Boris’s birthday (bacon! Mm, salty), and, of course, Joey Drew’s birthday (everyone stays overtime to wish Joey a happy birthday!)” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

This is a direct lie, or maybe this quote from The Illusion of Living is a lie, quote from pages 182-183,

“not a birthday party for yours truly, I’ve never been one really to celebrate the passing of time in that way” (Kress, A. (2021).).It’s not like so many years have passed between the books for his opinion to change like that. Both books have Bendyland in them, meaning they were written post-1940.

He has even completely made up stories, told people they were stories beforehand, and the people still fell for them being real, quote from pages 37-41 of The Illusion of Living, “the next letter I sent her [referring to Lottie], after detailing the usual how I was and what was happening, I added a new paragraph: An incredible thing has happened. Lottie, I’ll admit I thought it was all a fun game for us, but you were actually right. ZW is a real person and is the girlfriend of my former boot compatriot. His name is not John, it’s James, which I think is pretty darn close to our guess. He came by the base to meet with his former colleagues, and I happened to be in the lab when he stopped by to say hi to Corporal Arch*. He’s been injured, just his leg, shrapnel in the calf, and so was sent home. He says he was lucky to have survived. We talked for a while, and I don’t know

*NateA: When I first read this I forgot, despite Joey saying as much, that this was fiction, and spent far too much time racking my brain over who this James was. Joey is so good with his storying that even when he tells you it’s not real, you can forget a moment later. what made him notice my boots but he did, and that’s when he saw the initials. “Zelda!” he said. Yes, Lottie. Zelda. Her name is indeed Zelda. What a guess! That one was yours, I believe. I must say I was speechless, and you know that doesn’t happen to me that often. We got to talking and though our version of the story was not correct (she and he are both children of tailors, that’s how they met), she is indeed his sweetheart. Well I just had to tell him about our fanciful tales, and he loved them so much. He told me he wanted me to tell you hello, and that he hopes you’re doing well, and that you should know how much the men in France appreciate everything you gals are doing for them. We have decided to become pen pals, so I’ll keep you posted. [...] For the first time I was on the tenterhooks waiting for her reply. Weeks passed to slowly, but sure enough, eventually an envelope came with her very recognizable handwriting. Joseph! How marvelous, I never would have thought it could be real. So many stories and dreams I had as a child have been dashed in view of what I see of the world now. This is so remarkable it restores my faith in humanity, and in hope. Please tell James (that is so close, you are completely correct) and Zelda (imagine, her name is truly Zelda!) hello from me!At that point I sighed such a sigh of relief. The make-believe had worked. But not just for Lottie–it had a fantastic effect on me too. Working in the lab, though fascinating, was also mind numbing, and getting to make up these stories, set my brain ablaze. I started composing letters from “James” supposedly, transcribed by another fellow lab trainee, Nathan Arch, to Lottie*. I sent them with my letters, and told her such stories: My return home was one of the best days of my life: my whole family waiting on the platform of the train station, Zelda standing there holding an English setter puppy in her arms. Quite quickly after that the two had to get married, so detailed a simple, beautiful wedding at a country church. There were flowers, and the bride had daisies in her hair. Daises! Oh, James, tell Zelda they are my absolute favorite type of flower! I, of course, knew that. Soon after, a pregnancy was announced, and though I didn’t think the war would continue long enough for a *NateA: I don’t have any recollection of doing this. baby to be born, sure enough, it did. And a little boy named Timothy entered into the lives of Zelda and James. [...] NateA: I have gone through every piece of correspondence Joey ever saved as part of my work preserving his memory and documenting his life, and I must confess I was looking forward to reading Lottie’s letters in person, having been moved to tears reading this part of the original manuscript thirty years ago. Unfortunately, I have not been able to find them. It is possible they were lost to time, and I do deep down hope that to be true. However, even if this story ends up being revealed to be one of Joey’s excellent fictions, I think it doesn’t really matter. Joey would, of course, call it another example of his illusion. I think the message in the story is meaningful regardless whether it really happened or not. And regardless if Lottie actually herself existed or not, she is a fine embodiment of the brave women who served our country in war” (Kress, A. (2021).).

2. Minimize or discourage access to non-cult sources of information, including:

a. Internet, TV, radio, books, articles, newspapers, magazines, media - Joey wrote his own book. The studio is covered in copies

(YouTube. (2022, April 3).) One copy is placed in the “6 ritual items” he had employees pick out of their own things (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

b. Critical information - Only tells people what they need to know (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

c. Former members - When Henry left, all communication was cut off for decades

(YouTube. (2022, April 3).)

d. Keep members busy so they don’t have time to think and investigate - Everyone is expected to work long hours (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

e. Control through cell phone with texting, calls, internet tracking - Weren’t around at the time.

3. Compartmentalize information into Outsider vs. Insider doctrine:

a. Ensure that information is not freely accessible - Joey is open about keeping certain information from his employees (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

b. Control information at different levels and missions within group - Cohen knows about the IRS fraud Joey is committing (Grant Cohen. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). Thomas runs the ink machine (Thomas Connor. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). Wally doesn’t seem to know anything, but he is suspicious (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Dale Little complains about Gent’s security around the studio, adding new codes to doors, but not telling why, despite him having to memorize the code, and according to the way he talks, would get in serious trouble if the codes got out (YouTube. (2022, November 18).).

c. Allow only leadership to decide who needs to know what and when - Joey says to “trust your leader” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

4. Encourage spying on other members: a. Impose a buddy system to monitor and control member - Many of them work in pairs. Bertrum & Lacie (Staff, S. I. (2019).). Wally & Thomas (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Buddy & Dot (Dreams come to life. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). Sammy & Jack (Kress, A. (2021).).

b. Report deviant thoughts, feelings and actions to leadership - Norman thinks about telling Joey about Sammy's unusual behavior (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

c. Ensure that individual behavior is monitored by group - Everyone keeps an eye on everyone. It’s a small group. Norman is spying on everyone (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Grace Conway mentions in her audio log about spying on people from the shadow. What’s interesting here is that she mentions Norman by name, “as old Norman would often say, “people really become themselves when they’re hidden in shadow,” that creepy guy always had a story to tell about this place. But I think I've found a few narrow passages even he didn't know about” (Dark places. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). (YouTube. (2022, November 18).). This is very interesting, as it implies, at least to me, that Norman was teaching her how to spy on people and about the hidden passages that are in the studio.

5. Extensive use of cult-generated information and propaganda, including:

a. Newsletters, magazines, journals, audiotapes, videotapes, YouTube, movies and other media - The studio is covered in audiotapes (Audio Log. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). The Bendy cartoons are most of their life, and Joey wrote a book (Kress, A. (2021).).

b. Misquoting statements or using them out of context from non-cult sources - Quote from pages 63-65 of The Illusion of Living,

““‘I think therefore I am,’ sure why not?” I said to Arch once. I was a little bored in the lab and was thinking about one of those texts that I thought deeply silly. Arch for his part was bent over a telegraph sounder, replacing the return spring. His nose was so close to the device it was almost touching it. “You do what?” he asked, not looking up.

“This fellow named Descartes writes a whole book and in the end it’s just ‘I think therefore I am.’”I sat back up and stretched my neck out. “What does that even mean?”

“Read the book,” I replied. Then I laughed when he finally looked up and gave me that classic annoyed Arch look. “It means that because I can think I know I exist.”

Arch stared at me for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows. He already had deep thought lines in his forehead. Even at this young an age, this was a man who contemplated everything. “But…I exist.”

“You do.”

“I mean…I know I exist.”

“But what if you don’t?” I said. I wasn’t that interested in a lesson, but I did always end up being everyone’s teacher. “But I do,” he repeated, looking even more perplexed. “How do you know you do?” Arch somehow managed to furrow his eyebrows and open his eyes wide at the same time. He was pained, I could tell. I stifled a laugh. He held up his hand. “This is my hand, I can see it, my other hand doesn’t go through it like it’s a ghost hand or anything.” He took the time to double-check this and clasped his hands together. “I’m here.”

I nodded.

“And you can see me and you are talking to me,” he added. “So I am here.”

I nodded again. “Am I here?”

Arch leaned back in amazement. “I…yes, of course you are. I can see you.”

“Maybe I’m not here, maybe your hand isn’t here, maybe everything is a manifestation.” This was the silliness I was talking about with these great philosophers. Seemed more to me like a parlor trick than anything profound. Though there was, I had to confess, some fun to be had with all this. “But I have to be here in some way. I have to exist in some way.” He definitely was sounding less sure of himself. Poor Arch, old chum.

“Why?” He was getting there, and I was having fun. “Because at the least, the part of me that can ask the question if I’m here or not exists because I am asking the question.”

“So…” I turned my hand outward, leading him to the conclusion. “I…think therefore I am?” he asked slowly. I shrugged. “Yup.”

Arch laughed to himself and shook his head. He turned back to his work for a moment, then looked up at me again. “You really believe that?”

“I don’t know; I don’t really care about it,” I replied.

“Then what was the point of this whole conversation?”

“For the fun of it.”” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Nathan has left the following on the bottom of page 65,

“I have no memory of this conversation, and I think it’s likely this happened with one of the other chaps in the lab” (Kress, A. (2021).). We can’t believe Nathan here, as we’ve proven he’s lied before about things Joey has said before, so he’s been proven to be an unreliable narrator.

In an audio tape, most likely meant for employees of the studio, Joey says,

“it’s been said that dreaming can make it so! And my friends! It has! 1931 is going to be an amazing year at Joey Drew Studios” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

6. Unethical use of confession:

a. Information about sins used to disrupt and/or dissolve identity boundaries - Susie wants to be the perfect Alice Angel. In her mind, Alice is entirely perfect. Joey reinforces her delusion by calling her Alice and turning her into Alice (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). He even keeps her locked in a room (Twisted alice. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). I bring up the fact that she was locked in a room, as that’s a very common thing cult leaders will do to members to have them repent for their sins.

b. Withholding forgiveness or absolution - Joey encourages Susie’s need for perfection to be the perfect Alice. He even told her she was perfect for the role (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). And even after being turned into Alice, she kept killed Boris’ and had the corpses laid out in a maze to try and achieve perfection (Bendy and the ink machine: Chapter 3 - Rise and Fall. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). Even though it isn’t spoken about, it seems like Susie isn’t just doing this for herself but also Joey.

c. Manipulation of memory, possible false memories - When Sammy sees Henry, he doesn’t know who he is. He starts to recognize Henry for a split second but quickly snaps out of it. Instead, he is more interested in appeasing Bendy (YouTube. (2018, May 1).).

1. Require members to internalize the group’s doctrine as truth:

a. Adopting the group’s ‘map of reality’ as reality - Susie starts to identify as Alice Angel. Joey accepts and encourages it (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). He puts people through the machine to become these creations (Ink machine. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).). He also tells everyone in the office not to question his actions (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). He doesn’t even believe in what he is preaching. He is caught calling it “trash” and “slop.” He wants the word “dreaming” to be used more (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Also, it feels like he wants them more focused on a dream world than reality.

b. Instill black and white thinking - Joey doesn’t like criticism. He doesn’t like people questioning him. He is always on about the “big picture.” Don’t think about those things. Everything is normal. He doesn’t want people to question odd stuff in the office (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

c. Decide between good vs. evil - No proof of this.

d. Organize people into us vs. them (insiders vs. outsiders) - Joey says someone in the office is spreading a lie that the studio is not doing financially well. He calls it a slanderous lie against “us.” Speaking as “us” being the studio (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).This also instills fear of a traitor being in the group's mist, someone who doesn’t trust them.

2. Change person’s name and identity - Joey allowed and encouraged Susie to take on the identity of Alice Angel. He calls Susie that before she uses the name (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). He calls Bertrum by a nickname he doesn’t like (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). This is odd behavior for Joey because he is sensitive about people calling him Joesph instead of Joey (Kress, A. (2021).). You’d think someone with that issue would be sensitive to others and this topic. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose.

3. Use of loaded language and clichés which constrict knowledge, stop critical thoughts and reduce complexities into platitudinous buzz words - Joey is doing this by saying “dreaming” over and over. He even admits it is, saying people eat that stuff up (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Quote from page 170 of the employee handbook,

“personally, we recommend decorating your workspace with a favorite motivational quote. Mister Drew’s is “Dreaming! Dreaming! Dreaming” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Also, a quote from pages 9-10 of The Illusion of Living,

“or as I like to say, “Dreams come true.” Ha! If you work for me at my now world-famous animation studio, Joey Drew Studios, you will have heard me say that more then once. I hope you don’t mind me repeating it. It isn’t some pat phrase to inspire people or remind my employees what they are working for. It’s reality. It’s real. Your dreams can come true” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He once again repeats the dreams motif in the employee handbook, page 194,

“Dreams, dreams, dreams” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Then again on the final page,

“and if you ever feel lost, just remember:

Dreams. Come. True” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

4. Encourage only ‘good and proper’ thoughts - He tells people not to listen to any rumors they hear about the financial status of the company. Instead, he tells them to “trust their leader” and just do whatever it is they do (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

5. Hypnotic techniques are used to alter mental states, undermine critical thinking and even to age regress the member - Joey calls Bertrum Bertie and Bert, names he doesn’t like.

Quote from page 209 of The Illusion of Living,

“”Come on Bert…”

“Bertrum,” he said with a wet clearing of his throat” (Kress, A. (2021).). Bertrum even says “Joey Drew introduces me, the great Bertrum Piedmont, as Bertie! Like I was his child” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Bertrum is at least 20 years older than Joey (Timeline. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).).

Joey just wasn’t calling Bertrum Bertie in front of investors, he also referred to him as Bertie in newspaper interviews, page 91 of the employee handbook,

“”I was thrilled to hire Bertrum Piedmont for this task, or Bertie, as I like to call to him”” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

He even has Bertrum referred to as Bertie in the description of Lacie’s job in the employee handbook, page 179,

“Lacie works alongside Special Projects director Bertie Piedmont to help bring the Bendyland dream to life” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Joey also takes on a more parental role to other people, page 59,

“she [referring to Abby] might have introduced me to art, but I introduced her to so many new books and ideas that I always felt a bit like a mentor to her. Still do” (Kress, A. (2021).).

6. Memories are manipulated and false memories are created - Sammy forgets who Henry is (YouTube. (2018, May 1).).

7. Teaching thought-stopping techniques which shut down reality testing by stopping negative thoughts and allowing only positive thoughts, including:

a. Denial, rationalization, justification, wishful thinking - Joey has destroyed Sammy to the point where he worships Bendy and is willing to kill for him (YouTube. (2018, May 1).).

b. Chanting - Repeats phrases (Sammy (monster). Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).).

c. Meditating - Doesn’t seem to apply.

d. Praying - Sammy starts praying to bendy, saying amen when talking about Bendy (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

e. Speaking in tongues - Doesn't seem to apply

f. Singing or humming - Joey doesn’t, but Sammy does (Sammy (monster). Bendy Wiki. (n.d.).).

8. Rejection of rational analysis, critical thinking, constructive criticism - Joey tells people not to ask questions (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). He doesn’t take criticism well but picks apart what other people do. For example, Bertrum complains about him constantly making notes on his drawings while initially saying he believed in his “eye” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

9. Forbid critical questions about leader, doctrine, or policy allowed - Joey tells his employees not to question their leader and just do whatever they do (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

10. Labeling alternative belief systems as illegitimate, evil, or not useful - Joey says that people spreading rumors that the studio isn’t doing well are spreading “slanderous lies” about them (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

11. Instill new “map of reality” - He wants to make his creations real and is willing to use the people who work in the studio to do it. He makes Susie want to be Alice Angel (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

1. Manipulate and narrow the range of feelings – some emotions and/or needs are deemed as evil, wrong or selfish - Work hard. Work happy (" Travaille Dur, Travaille heureux ": Bendy y la máquina de tinta, Bendy y Boris, imagenes de videojuegos. Pinterest. (2017, October 8).).

According to the employee handbook, page 183,

“poor attitudes, negativity, and gossip distract from our sacred mission to bring joy to the children of the world. Termination will be considered if such behavior becomes prevalent in your work, so be sure to put on a smile at all times” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Quote from page 84 of The Illusion of Living,

“I had known they were going to laugh and they did. How wonderful having such control! How easy for someone like me” (Kress, A. (2021).). Joey here is praising himself for manipulating, in a way, the audience to laugh and be happy.

2. Teach emotion-stopping techniques to block feelings of homesickness, anger, doubt - Joey encourages people to work hard, focus on their jobs, and not question them (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

3. Make the person feel that problems are always their own fault, never the leader’s or the group’s fault - Thomas’ is blamed entirely for Bendy coming out the way he did (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

4. Promote feelings of guilt or unworthiness, such as:

a. Identity guilt - Joey is pushing Susie to be Alice. While she does love her role already, he is feeding it by calling her Alice (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). He also told her how perfect she was for the role (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

b. You are not living up to your potential - Joey is always picking apart Bertrum’s ideas and drawings. When Joey first met him, he told him he had perfect ideas. It seemed like Joey had a lot of confidence in him. And that maybe Bertrum isn’t living up to what Joey thought he would be (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

c. Your family is deficient - No proof of this

d. Your past is suspect - No proof of this.

e. Your affiliations are unwise - No proof of this.

f. Your thoughts, feelings, actions are irrelevant or selfish - Sammy is a bit pushy and demanding according to the tapes we hear (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). However, when we meet him as Henry, he is more humbled and seems only interested in pleasing Bendy. Something has changed (YouTube. (2018, May 1).).

g. Social guilt - No proof of this.

h. Historical guilt -No proof of this.

5. Instill fear, such as fear of:

a. Thinking independently - When Sammy sees us as Henry, he starts to recognize him. Then he quickly snaps it out of it. He seemed focused on making Bendy happy (YouTube. (2018, May 1).). Joey tells his employees to listen to and trust him (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

b. The outside world - No proof of this.

c. Enemies - No proof of this.

d. Losing one’s salvation - Susie is obsessed with being perfect, especially the perfect Alice Angel. This is her version of salvation (YouTube. (2017, October 13).).

e. Leaving or being shunned by the group - Susie feels like it's the end of the world when she is replaced. She doesn’t feel like she is just losing a job or position. Instead, it feels like her family, or some other group is rejecting her (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).She was using the name Alice and seemed devoted to not just playing the character but becoming the character(YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

f. Other’s disapproval - Bertrum is obsessed with approval. All he wants to do is impress those around him. Joey Drew often sends his drawings back with tons of corrections (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).This doesn’t just upset Bertrum; it almost destroys him. Bertrum doesn’t want to be forgotten. He claims he won’t allow anyone, including Joey, to forget him (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

g. Historical guilt - Does not seem to apply.

6. Extremes of emotional highs and lows – love bombing and praise one moment and then declaring you are horrible sinner - He lures people in with the promise that they are perfect for the role he needs them for. Then when he has them, he often degrades or even replaces them. He does this with Susie. He makes her believe she is the perfect person for the role of Alice. She even becomes obsessed with the part (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Only to replace her with someone else. Breaking her heart and mind (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

He hyped Susie up so much that he even threw her a party to celebrate her voicing Alice Angel, page 33 of the employee handbook,

“I’m excited to reveal that Joey Drew Studios will be embarking on a new initiative that’s sure to take our studio straight to the top!

All staff and talent are asked to gather in the main lobby at 4:30 PM this Friday to meet Alice Angel, the newest friend of Bendy and Boris the Wolf. Refreshments will be served, along with the chance to meet the voice of Alice herself, Susie Campbell. Don’t be late” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

The lunch he took her out to, appears to be a “welcome to the studio” lunch, quote from page 63 of the employee handbook,

“Joe’s Fine Dining

555 Christopher Street, New York, NY

For the finest quality at reasonable prices, Joe’s Fine Dining cannot be beat!

NO REFUNDS ACCEPTED

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

2 Bacon Soup

1 Linguini Alfredo

1 Filet Mignon

1 Iced Tea

1 Lemonade

1 Strawberry Cheesecake

Welcome lunch for Susie Campbell. Quite the charmer” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Susie didn’t even know she was replaced until she went to the recording booth to do her lines for Alice,

““when I walked into the recording booth today, Sammy was there with that…Allison.

Apparently, I didn’t get the memo. Alice Angel will now be voiced by Miss Allison Pendle”” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

The memo Susie is referring to is one found in the employee handbook page 58,

“from: Joey Drew

To: All Staff

Please give a warm welcome to Allison Pendle, Joey Drew Studios’ newest employee. Allison is a talented voice actress with lots of dreams. In her spare time, she loves to cook and invent recipes. I know that as soon as you meet her, you’ll be taken with her beautiful voice and charm. She’s so interesting, so… different. I have to say, I’m an instant fan.

Effective immediately, Allison will be the new voice of Alice Angel. We believe this restructure in voice talent will lead to a more cohesive character list–and more success for our dreams.

Allison will meet with Sammy Lawrence after lunch to discuss rerecording Alice Angel’s dialogue. Then I will bring her around to meet everyone.

Distribute immediately to all employees except for Susie Campbell” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

He even passive-aggressively degrades her, or maybe even Allison, as you’ll read in a second, voicing Alice Angel, page 171,

“He [referring to Bendy] can be seen in all of our greatest animated shorts” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Then earlier in the book, page 130,

““Siren Serenade” was the first Alice Angel cartoon that did not feature any other Joey Drew cast members such as Bendy or Boris” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

Joey here degrades the voice actress for being in a short that didn’t include Bendy. I say it could either be Susie or Allison, as I can’t find a release date for Siren Serenade.

Joey has this to say about the woman he replaces Susie with, Allison Pendle, on page 229 of The Illusion of Living,

“we have such talent here at Joey Drew Studios, particularly the famous Broadway actress Allison Pendle. She’s a swell gal, and a looker to boot. She’s very talented and you wouldn’t believe the different kinds of voices she can do” (Kress, A. (2021).).

I find that interesting as this is the only mention of Allison I can find in the book, and doesn’t even list her voicing Alice Angel or any of the exact popular roles in the shorts she voices, just that she’s terrific at voicing characters. That itself is love bombing. Joey is putting her higher and higher above Susie. I also couldn’t find a single mention of Susie’s name in The Illusion of Living. It almost feels like Joey is attempting to erase Susie from the studio's history.

This is also done with Bertrum. He convinces him that he’s the perfect one to build his park. Only to pick apart his designs (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

He also love-bombed Bertrum with how popular the park would be, page 100 of the employee handbook shows a few Bendyland tickets, one of the tickets is number 5,298,660 (Staff, S. I. (2019).). Joey expected over 5 million people to go to this place.

Joey states from his first meeting with Bertrum on page 208 of The Illusion of Living,

“what a wonderful fellow, Bert is! The brain on that man. [...] We talked about the old Coney Island, the multiple parks. The innovations he’d made, the fights he’d had with those in charge. It seems everyone has a vision, and no one likes to share. Such things are not a worry in my studio.”

Joey states on page 209,

“the fact was I knew the truth, I knew it from the moment we’d shook hands, Bert was ready to work again. And he loved my idea” (Kress, A. (2021).). Joey isn’t just love-bombing about Bertrum to Bertrum himself. He’s now love-bombing about Bertrum to the reader. He’s also attempting to control Bertrum’s feelings about joining the project by love-bombing him. He even admits it by saying right after,

“games. People always like to play games. I like to say a thing and do a thing. But I do know, after years of observation, that this is unusual. So I’ll play along, but I wish I didn’t have to” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Then, on pages 209-210,

“”Bertrum, you know, I know, the waiter knows. You want to do this. And you are the only man who could do this. I can flatter you more, but I can tell you’re not the type who falls for that sort of thing”” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Then states,

“another tip for my readers: Always say the opposite of what a person is, it’s the ultimate praise. ”So let's just agree here, heck let’s go back to the studio and have you sign on the dotted line.”

“You promise me full creative control?”

“The only person you have to answer to is me. And I’m the one who understands your creative genius. So you have nothing to fear”” (Kress, A. (2021).). This is interesting as we know that Joey returned his drawings once Bertrum was hired, with changes on them (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Despite what he says out loud to Bertrum here, this isn’t his true feelings at the time either, so it’s not like his thoughts changed during the process of designing Bendyland. As he writes on pages 208-209,

“(I’m not saying that Bert and I haven’t had the odd disagreement, but ultimately he knows that I am the boss.) [...] I attempted to explain a bit of the Illusion of Living to him then, but I could tell it was too complex a concept for him to grasp in the moment. And I didn’t need him to understand it profoundly. After all, I was steering this ship. [...] Abby and Sammy probably are the ones who best understand it and even then, it’s not to my level” (Kress, A. (2021).). It seems to me like Joey never planned on letting Bertrum have creative control in the slightest and just used it to lure him into his trap. He also compares Bertrum to Abby and Sammy, raising them higher than him.

In this conversation, he also made an interesting statement: "I’m the one who understands your creative genius” (Kress, A. (2021).). That implies that no one but Joey understands Bertrum, and it is just another way he’s trapping Bertrum into working for him. If he goes to anyone else, they won’t understand him like Joey will, or at least that’s what Joey wants to convince Bertrum of.

There seems to be a part of Bertrum. Even if it’s just his subconscious that knows Joey’s manipulating him, as on page 210, ““Well, darn it, you’ve got me, Joey, you’ve got me”” (Kress, A. (2021).). Bertrum knows deep down what Joey is doing, but he can’t say no to him.

Joey says on page 210, “I’ll be honest and say the man wasn’t wholly sold on my straightforward aesthetic. The concept of a square was too “pedestrian” as he called it. This was a man who didn’t see the value in simplicity, the beauty behind it. You need to set people at ease, make them understand where they are, make them feel at home” (Kress, A. (2021).). I find this quite interesting because this need to make people “feel at home” is what he’s trying to do to Bertrum. Make him feel like the studio is his home and that he can’t leave it. He also uses something that could be wonderful to manipulate Bertrum to stay.

He states on page 211 that “Bert was convinced of my layout plan; he eventually always realizes my ideas are best” (Kress, A. (2021).). When viewed with the previous quotes, it seems less like Bertrum realizing Joey’s ideas were better and more like he agreed to them out of fear of losing the only person he thought understood his creativity and was going to be out of a job if he didn’t agree.

Then says, “and to give the man some credit, he was the one who suggested changing the names of the individual worlds to a subset of “land.” In the end we wound up with our four parks within the park named thus: Light Land, Dark Land, Big Land, Tiny Land. So you see, I am perfectly amenable to excellent ideas” (Kress, A. (2021).). This is love-bombing as Joey is not only calling Bertrum’s ideas excellent but also because he amends to them. He’s giving Bertrum JUST enough control that he’s going to stay, but so little at the same that he constantly begs for more.

This type of love bombing that Joey does with Bertrum is mirrored earlier in the book with Sammy Lawrence and Jack Fain. When Joey meets Sammy and Jack, he writes, on page 188,

““I like what you do,” I said.

“Thank you, that’s awful swell of you,” replied Jack. He stretched out his hand. “Jack Fain, lyricist and wit.” I laughed as I shook his hand and he did too. Ol’ Jack always finds his own jokes the most entertaining. He might not tell the best ones, but there’s something about his laugh that’s contagious, so he always gets a good response.”

Then continued, on pages 189-190,

“I glanced at him [referring to Jack] and saw a weary expression flit across his face before the brightness returned. It was the first inkling I had that there might be a bit of a strain between these two.

“Well I’ll get right to the point,” I said. “I need music. Good solid-quality original music. I produce the Bendy cartoons.” I waited for the appropriate reaction. Even after only two years, Bendy had made a mark on the scene. Jack was duly impressed, Sammy was unreadable. Typical Sammy. “I made a terrible mistake opening my studio and not having a real music director on board. I aim to solve that. I would be honored if you gents would be that solution.”

Jack looked thoughtful then and yet still wide-eyed and excited (he has no poker face, never did). Sammy was the one I was more interested in so I watched him closely” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey here love-bombs Jack’s writing with lots of praise, then the same with Sammy’s ability to compose. He knows that if he says he’s “honored” to work with them, they’ll be more willing to stay when things go wrong. They’re “being honored” by Joey, after all.

There’s a really interesting section before Joey first talks to Sammy and Jack, page 185

“”for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Jack Fain.” The man tipped his bowler in our direction. I understood now why he was still wearing it even indoors. His whole outfit was a kind of costume in a way. He wasn’t in a tux or a dinner jacket either. Instead he was in dark gray wool trousers with red suspenders, a white button-up shirt beneath an orange vest and brown bow tie. He fit the description of “a character” to a tee. Sammy Lawrence on the other hand was in a neat simple black evening suit and looked totally appropriate for an opening night party. Though I suppose his hair could have been slicked back a bit more, not quite so long and floppy as it was. As it still is” (Kress, A. (2021).).

I wanted to bring this up as he hasn’t even spoken to them yet in the book, but he’s already love-bombing Sammy and is putting him higher than Jack. As if he wanted to pin the two against each other. Also, while he is love-bombing Sammy here, he degrades and puts him down by saying, “though I suppose his hair could have been slicked back a bit more, not quite so long and floppy as it was. As it still is” (Kress, A. (2021).).

I also noticed that Joey says, “a real music director” he’s love-bombing Sammy right there. Already establishing that he IS a real music director without ever having stepped foot inside a studio. It’s clear Jack easily fell into this love-bombing trap, but it took just a slight nudge, the studio tour, to trap Sammy fully, pages 193-194,

“Finally Sammy spoke up again. “I want full creative control over my department. I want to hire my own people. And if the pay isn’t good, I’m not signing the contract.”

Jack and I smiled at each other.

“Done and done,” I replied. Sammy didn’t say anything, we didn’t shake hands. He just stood up and left the room.

“Ol’ Sammy, a man who knows his own mind,” said Jack with a laugh. He extended his hand, so I shook his instead. “Just make sure the checks arrive on time and I’m good.”

They joined the studio two weeks later” (Kress, A. (2021).).

It also seems to me that the “real music director” comment from Joey is what led Sammy to put one foot in the trap and be willing to throw his entire body in blindly as a few before, page 187; this happens,

““Now that was a song,” I said as Sammy walked over in my direction. He stopped to look at me in that way of his. Always suspicious, always looking for something more. He was a couple years younger than me but seemed like a fellow who had lived several lifetimes already.

“You liked that?” asked Jack, joining us in a wave of energy and sweat. Close up I could see his brow was glistening and his breath was short. It was like he’d just run a race.

“I’d like to talk to you two,” I said, smiling as warmly as I could. I wanted them to know I was a friend. But of course Sammy just stared back at me.

“About what?” he asked curtly.

“Let’s step out onto the terrace so we don’t need to shout at each other over the noise,” I replied.

“Good idea, I could use some air,” said Jack, taking off his bowler hat and fanning himself with it.

Sammy reluctantly nodded” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey points out something very interesting here about Sammy, “he was a couple years younger than me but seemed like a fellow who had lived several lifetimes already.” I find this interesting because Joey is not only the boss in the relationship but also manipulating, love-bombing, degrading and putting down an employee, not just an employee. He’s doing it to an employee he knows and points out is YEARS younger than him. When accompanied by that age difference, in the real world, these traits would be a grooming and emotionally and mentally abusive relationship. Grooming isn’t just sexual. There are multiple different types of grooming. The sexual type just happens to be the most typical. You can groom someone to do just about anything. Once I realized what Joey was doing would be grooming, I was curious and looked up the stages of grooming. The amount of stages he did with Sammy is outright disturbing.

Stage 1: Targeting a Victim - Joey targeted Sammy the night of the dinner party in the book (Kress, A. (2021).).

Stage 2: Gaining Trust - Trust was gained when Joey called him a “real music director” and promised that he wouldn’t visit him unless they had a scheduled meeting (Kress, A. (2021).).

During this stage, the groomer is likely to do any of the following:

give small gifts

make promises

take special outings

provide individual attention

discuss personal life

share secrets

play games

provide access to cigarettes, drugs, or alcohol (What is sexual grooming? identifying the 6 stages. Lewis and Llewellyn. (2019, June 6).).

I would like to go over each point here individually.

I don’t have any proof that Joey gave out gifts to Sammy, but we do know that he took Susie to lunch, most likely as a “reward” or “gift,” so I wouldn’t put it past him (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

Joey constantly makes promises to Sammy. One is that he won’t visit music without scheduling a meeting beforehand because he understands that Sammy needs privacy to work (Kress, A. (2021).).

I don’t have proof of individual outings, but once again, he did take Susie out by herself, so it wouldn’t be shocking if he did the same with Sammy (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

Joey gives Sammy one-on-one meetings, in my opinion, that would fall under “provide individual attention,” not only that, but their meeting is also the first meeting Joey has every day, page 225,

“9:00 am.:The first of my daily meetings. This one is with Sammy. The man is punctual and brief. We always schedule a full fifteen minutes and he rarely takes more then five” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey openly discusses his personal life with Sammy once they get to talking at the dinner party, pages 188-189,

““Why do I know you? he asked then. He was looking at me carefully now. Not in the same suspicious manner. He was truly trying to figure out the answer to his question.

“I go to a lot of shows, I’m a man about town,” I replied.

He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

He leaned back on both elbows on the stone wall. Beneath him Fifth Avenue roared and certain death would come to anyone who toppled over the edge down onto it. The man definitely had confidence in that wall. I had a sudden urge to give him a shove. Not push him over, but just to see his reaction. This might sound strange, but I needed to see a human moment from him, I needed to see the man he was hiding from me. That’s the trouble when you’re interested in re-creating the illusion of the world. You want to see the truth of it as much as possible. “Joey Drew Studios,” he said again, mulling it over. “So like film?”

I nodded. “Sure, like that,” I replied. If he was going to be coy, I would match it. The best way to get people to trust you is to match and mimic their behavior.

“You like movies,” he said, nodding back. Was he imitating me now?

“I do.”

He snapped his fingers and tossed the cigarette over the side of the building. “I know you! You used to come to the Grand almost every day. Sat down near the front, always by yourself.”

I stared at him in shock, and that was when the memories came flooding back. The ones of him playing the piano along with the movies. That was him. That was the same fellow. I knew I knew him from somewhere! I knew my gut instinctively understood his genius.

“That was me, I remember you now. You are quite the talent,” I replied.

“I know,” he said” (Kress, A. (2021).).

This is strangely intimate, despite it being their first talk. Even Jack seems put off by it, page 189,

“well this is a fun memory lane to travel down, but since I’m not a part of this journey, I’d like to bring us back to the present and include me again,” said Jack. I glanced at him and saw a weary expression flit across his face before the brightness returned to it” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey has certain things known to a few employees, so it wouldn’t be shocking to me if Sammy were told a few of the secrets of the studio.

He is always playing games with his employees, mostly mind games.

Sammy does smoke, and Joey doesn’t seem to have any problem with it, page 188,

“”and what’s a Joey Drew Studios?” asked Sammy, lighting a cigarette from the darkness by the stone wall at the edge of the terrace” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey is more concerned with Sammy’s tone at that moment, page 188 “yes, he said it in that dismissive tone. I didn’t understand why he needed to talk to me like that. I didn’t respect it” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Stage 3: Filling a Need

Quote from Lewis & Llewellyn LLP’s sexual abuse law firm website,

“Offenders may prey on [a teen’s] insecurities by lavishing the victim with praise and emphasizing the “unique nature” of their “loving” and “exclusive” relationship” (What is sexual grooming? identifying the 6 stages. Lewis and Llewellyn. (2019, June 6).).

Joey is constantly praising Sammy.

Stage 4: Isolating the Person

Another quote from Lewis & Llewellyn LLP’s sexual abuse law firm website,

“The groomer works hard to separate the victim not just physically, but also emotionally, from their support network of others who may be watchful or helpful. At this stage, groomers often emphasize the special nature of the relationship and urge secrecy. They may accuse others of being “jealous,” “overprotective,” or seeking to “ruin what they’ve got.” Excuses for keeping interactions private are designed to make victims feel flattered and special“ (What is sexual grooming? identifying the 6 stages. Lewis and Llewellyn. (2019, June 6).).

First, Joey does isolate Sammy. He traps him in the music department when the ink overflows the music department (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). It also seems he was emotionally isolating Sammy, based on their interactions from The Illusion of Living (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey does say this about those that leave the studio, page 182,

“they really will never get another opportunity quite as wonderful as working at the studio, that’s for sure” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He also constantly praises Sammy’s piano skills, page 189,

“”that was me, I remember you now. You are quite the talent,” I replied.

“I know,” he said” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Stage 5: Sexual Contact

There’s no proof of them ever having sexual contact, but I can see Joey doing this to control many of his employees.

Stage 6: Maintaining Control

The abuser may:

blame the victim:

use fear:

threaten the victim:

increase violence:

use sympathy:

employ confusion:

I can’t find something direct that talks about Joey blaming Sammy for something, but we do know that Joey blames Thomas Connor entirely for things that he should take the blame for as well, so it wouldn’t be shocking if he also did this with Sammy (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

Joey uses fear as a common reason on how to get his employees to stay, page 182,

“they really will never get another opportunity quite as wonderful as working at the studio, that’s for sure” (Kress, A. (2021).).

While some might not consider this next part threatening/violent, I would, page 182,

“That’s why everyone at Joey Drew Studios is such a fan of Bendy and all our creations. If they aren’t, then they need to leave. Just like Henry Stein did” (Kress, A. (2021).).

I can’t find an example of him doing the last two to Sammy, but I wouldn’t be shocked if he did.

On page 194, Joey says that Sammy is one of his “greatest accomplishments” (Kress, A. (2021).). I find this very bizarre as he’s talking about Sammy as if he’s a show dog or something he’s bred or created. He also says he’d “never trade Sammy Lawrence for anything” (Kress, A. (2021).). This also feels like Sammy is just a pet or an object he can trade or discard when he gets bored of him. Then on the same page, he states, “his creativity is pure brilliance and he always chooses the best people. His musicians worship him, he’s almost a god to them” (Kress, A. (2021).). Joey here is love-bombing Sammy while also treating him like a pet or plaything. It’s his way of keeping Sammy at the studio. Treat him with so much love he doesn’t want to leave, but demean him at the time, so he feels like he can’t leave.

He does this on page 187,

“honestly, still don’t know to this day what makes him a grouch, but if being a grouch means beautiful music. I have no problem with that, I’ll tell you” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Grouch seems to be an understatement about the way Sammy was acting, quote from page 43 of the employee handbook,

“from: Sammy Lawrence

To: All Staff Regarding the Music Department

Musical instruments aren’t just for fun. We do serious work here at the Music Department. While I know it may be tempting, please refrain from playing musical instruments in our corridors.

Just last week I had to rerecord a song because someone was plucking a banjo just outside the recording studio. Whoever it was, please stop it. And please, everyone, stop making so much noise in general. No more loud shoes, whistling, humming, or gum chewing by the Music Department.

You have been warned” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

While I agree with the banjo part, asking people not to hum and whistle while in a MUSIC department, is a bit extreme.

Joey degrades and then praises Sammy within one sentence. At this point, I’m honestly amazed by how much love-bombing this man can do.

I also noticed this section on pages 181-182,

“good music really brings you into the moment, but badly done music, that just ruins the whole thing. So you better believe that for Joey Drew Studios I made sure to hire the best. Because you know what the best do? They don’t play along with prewritten sheet music to a silent movie. No. They improvise every time. They watch the film and play as they watch and feel the emotions run through their body and out their fingers onto the keys. They create art with the melody.

And boy oh boy, let me tell you, that’s what Sammy Lawrence does.

I wouldn’t say I was lucky to get him as part of my team, nor that I’m lucky he’s stayed with me all these years, though I’ve been told that in the past and I happily say,”Darn right I am!” when people say it. But, as I always say, luck had nothing to do with it. It was my research, my ability to understand and appreciate true talent, and of course, my vision that inspired others to want to work for me. After all, I can’t make anyone do anything, even as a boss; they have to want to. That’s why everyone at Joey Drew Studios is such a fan of Bendy and all our creations. If they aren’t, then they need to leave. Just like Henry Stein did. I never feel resentful on the rare occasion this happens, of course, I just feel sad. Not for me–I can always find more talent–but for them. They really will never get another opportunity quite as wonderful as working at the studio, that’s for sure” (Kress, A. (2021).).

There are quite a few contradictions in this statement and quite a lot of love-bombing. While most of the love bombing is directed towards Sammy, Joey is love bombing the other employees by saying “my vision that inspired others to want to work for me. After all, I can’t make anyone do anything, even as a boss; they have to want to. That’s why everyone at Joey Drew Studios is such a big fan of Bendy and all our creations” (Kress, A. (2021).).

The first contradiction I’d like to point out here is how Joey says, “but, as I always say, luck had nothing to do with it. It was my research, my ability to understand and appreciate true talent, and of course, my vision that inspired others to want to work for me” when talking about getting Sammy on board for the studio. (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey didn’t go out looking for Sammy, page 182,

“I met Sammy Lawrence quite by accident, at a party” (Kress, A. (2021).).

I’d also like to point at Joey saying,

“that’s why everyone at Joey Drew Studios is such a fan of Bendy and all our creations. If they aren’t, then they need to leave. Just like Henry Stein did. I never feel resentful on the rare occasion this happens, of course” (Kress, A. (2021).).

This is very bizarre as we know that once Henry left, Joey cut off all contact (YouTube. (2022, April 3).). If anything, it appears that Joey was extremely resentful as in chapter five of Bendy and the Ink Machine, The Last Reel, Joey says this to Henry in his apartment,

“The truth is, you were always so good at pushing, old friend….pushing me to do the right thing. You should have pushed a little harder” (YouTube. (2022, April 3).).

There’s other parts of The Illusion of Living where Joey is clearly resentful of/about Henry, pages 176-177,

“Henry left for his own reasons, and the correspondence between us became less and less. To be honest, it was almost like a weight off when he left. He had grown more sensitive as the studio became more successful and giving him pep talks had become exhausting for me. All the good qualities he brought, the hard work and diligence, were being undermined by a restless need for something different. Something that wasn’t Bendy. I will never understand that drive. Bendy was and is perfection.

It’s fascinating. Henry was never the showman like I was. He didn’t tend to be easily remembered by those who met him when we did business. I was invariably the face of the company, the one introduced first at a gala, the one to whom people slipped their business cards. Yet in the end he ended up setting up camp in this small corner of my memory. I can’t deny that he is tied to the creation of Bendy, to the creation of the studio itself.

That one time, in one small apartment, one too warm evening, we had been partners.

He’ll always be there, in the dark recesses of my mind. Always linked to me in that way.

Funny how the forgettable man is now forever in my mind.

You can’t predict how these things will happen.

They just happen” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Also, page 172,

““sure thing,” said Henry. He pulled out a fresh paper and a pencil and sat himself on the ground opposite me. I did and always will appreciate his keenness to work, this was one of the reasons we became partners after all. There were several decent reasons I made the choice I did. Hard work is extremely important to me, and while his talent was never at genius level, I do truly think he might have made something of his life had he not given up after a year” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Then on pages 68-69,

“we spent the afternoon walking slowly around the rooms, looking at Manet, Degas, and Cezanne. “So many of my friends in the art world always say that I’m rebelling by loving the impressionists so much,” she said with a laugh.

“Really?”

“They are all modernists. They think they are rebellious. Then I have this one friend, Henry, who you’ll meet someday I’m sure, he jokes about it a lot.”

“Why?”

“Well, he likes to create comics characters, like in the papers. ‘How can a comics character be impressionistic?’ he says.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know this Henry at all at this point (she was right in that I did soon meet him because of her), but he clearly lacked imagination. And he certainly didn’t understand the concept of the Illusion of Living. Not that I had, at that time, devised the name of my philosophy, but even then I understood that to create something real, you had to take liberties. Like these artists.

“It’s so simple, how can he not understand?” I said with a sigh.

“He has a gut instinct about things, understanding isn’t always necessary.” I appreciated that she defended his honor in that way, a friend does that. At the same time, sometimes that kind of blind loyalty frustrated me. I always had issues with people who tried to insist that some other person with some mediocre skill was a gifted talent. That’s not to say that Henry didn’t have abilities, but some people are the workaday people. Not the creators, the inspired, the geniuses” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He continues to be resentful of Henry in the book, pages 154-157,

“I cannot talk of either the big idea or putting the right team together without talking about Henry Stein. Though his short-lived impact on Joey Drew Studios did not live up to expectations, I would not call my choice to partner with him in establishing the studio nor have him head up Creative as a mistake. Unlike my decision not to have a proper Music Department for a few years (which I will discuss anon), Henry never held us back. His presence was helpful, I can happily admit, but his absence was even more so. Not having him at the studio ended up being one of the best things that could have happened to it. Of course, the funny thing is, I couldn’t have not had him without having him in the first place. Just like you can’t appreciate the light if you haven’t spent time in the dark, so too does a person’s absence become clear only if he has been around. So even though his time at the studio was short, I do feel a need to talk about him now, and especially because he was there the night of Bendy’s creation. And I know that’s something everyone reading this book has been waiting to read about.

I also think it’s a common courtesy to give credit where credit is due–no one can ever accuse Joey Drew of not sharing the spotlight, even those who made the smallest of contributions. Everyone has some kind of value after all.

Henry’s value revolved around the fact that he was excellent at taking direction. Was he a gifted animator? He was a good one, yes. Did he have unique ideas? I’m afraid to that I must say no. But he took direction well and was a decent delegator. As a partner he took to the tasks I assigned him with ease and was able to roll with them and expand on his own without my having to babysit. When the studio opened I surrounded him with artists of all skill levels, and the Writing Department had its own de facto leader in Mr. Hemmings, and so the whole of Creative was well managed for that first year of the company before I had to part ways with Henry.

The company went through a huge shift from when it started to a mere two years later when I took over full creative control and hired Mr. Morris as the head of the Art Department, and Sammy Lawrence as head of Music. What it became then was magic. But we all need to start somewhere, and experimentation is how all inventions begin. I learned this at the lab of course. [...] That being said I wasn’t too interested in his art, I must confess. Most of these artist types I met disappointed me immediately and I didn’t need an awkwardness with not only a new friend but also a work colleague, pretending to like his work when I didn’t, so I just tended to avoid talking about it with him whenever possible. So it was that I attended the art show because of Abby, not him” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He does it again to Henry and also degrades Abby on pages 158-160,

““would you like to see Henry’s work?” Abby asked.

I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t want to be truthful, but I hated lying to her. Fortunately, I ended up not needing to say anything anyway because Abby always somehow knew what I was thinking. “Come on, you snob. I think you might actually like his work. You always talk about your desire to communicate with the world.” She pulled me pretty hard by my elbow and genuinely yanked me across the small room.

“Not exactly,” I said, tripping over my feet and trying to remain upright. “I want to imitate it and show it back to the world.”

“Same thing,” she said, not really paying attention. It wasn’t at all, but I didn’t bother to correct her further. After all, the concept of the Illusion of Living as you, dear reader, have definitely learned in reading this book is both very complicated and very simple. It’s not something you can easily explain over the din of a crowded, airless, third-floor factory back room.

She deposited me in front of a wall of pen drawings. Compared with the brightness of the watercolors next to them, the unnecessary randomness of the installation pieces, and the creepiness of Abby's oils, it was, for want of a better word, uninspiring. I saw nothing to impress me and definitely nothing that “communicated with the world,” as she put it.

“What am I looking at?” I asked, doing everything I could not to roll my eyes.

“Aren’t they clever?” she asked.

I leaned in to examine them closer. I have to admit I have no memory of what I looked at that evening. I know there were cartoon drawings, that I saw various characters. I do recall a few were a little funny. But I do know they clarified what she’d meant about communication. They were caricatures of day-to-day people. Maybe there was a butcher in there, though I might just be confusing it with my creation, the Butcher Gang. They reminded me of comics from the papers, little short stories about people being people.

That was the moment.

That was it. Right there.

That match against the flint.

The flame.

I give the credit to Abby, even though you might think I owe it to Henry. But had she not understood on some level what I was searching for she never would have dragged me over to see Henry’s art. [...] “Joey, thanks for coming,” said Henry, approaching from behind us, I turned to look at him. He had dressed up for the event but every item of clothing looked slightly wrong. The sleeves of his shirt a bit short, his vest a bit long, his tie askew. He smiled, though, with such confidence that I couldn’t help admire him. I still do. He always was the sort of person who took leaps of faith and tackled what was right in front of him with a real sense of purpose.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” I lied. I would have. I was, however, glad now I hadn’t” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He even shows more resentment towards Henry, page 218,

“that cocktail napkin is now on the wall. That first sketch of Bendy right beside it, two sides of the same coin. Two moments of perfect clarity. The original Joey Drew Studios sign from when we only had those two floors. A letter from Henry. You might not think I’d keep such a thing, but I do. I have no ill will toward the man as you know. Him leaving, as I said, was the best thing that could have happened to the studio. His letter reminds me of that” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey is also manipulating the employees and readers of The Illusion of Living through a quote on page 182,

“I can always find more talent–but for them. They really will never get another opportunity quite as wonderful as working at the studio, that’s for sure” (Kress, A. (2021).).

It’s not just employees he’ll love-bomb about to the reader, he also love-bombs and then degrades random people he doesn’t even speak to, pages 183-184,

“I had been invited along with others who truly appreciated a good show.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, tuxedos on the men, dresses that glittered in the light for the ladies, cigarettes at the end of long holders, crystal tumblers filled with expensive and still illegal alcohol. You would never have known the stock market had crashed one year before, that people were standing in breadlines on the streets, that lives were ruined down there, so many floors down beneath the sparkling society. I, of course, found it yet another fascinating illusion. That we could all pretend life was carrying on full of joy like nothing had happened, which, for those fortunate few, I suppose it was true.

Now, I don’t know how much time you’ve spent around actors, but there is a time at every actor party when enough alcohol has been consumed that their inner desires to be the center of attention can no longer be contained and suddenly someone decides it’s time to start singing. Hopefully, you’re lucky enough there’s at least a piano in the room. I know of nothing quite so painful and tuneless as listening to actors singing a cappella. [...] It began with the actors each choosing a song. They fought for the spotlight by pretending they didn’t care. Casually walked up to the piano wearing some extravagant outfit or other, I swear the leading lady’s dress was entirely made of strings of pearls, while making sure to eye down any of their colleagues who might have attempted to stand up” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Also, on page 184,

“Don’t get me wrong. I adore actors. They are lovely people who light up a room and can have a shocking level of generosity so long as their egos are being indulged” (Kress, A. (2021).).

This love-bombing then degrading of strangers happens earlier in the book as well, page 44,

““well, Big Deal Joey, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” she said brightly. I stuck out my hand but she grabbed me and planted a cherry-pipped kiss onto my cheek too. “I’m Gladys!”

I shook my head. “No, you’re not,” I said with a smile.

Her mouth fell open in mock shock, though I could tell she was actually surprised. “I’m not?”

“No,” I said, taking her hand and kissing it. “Tonight you are Selene, goddess of the moon!”

Oh how she laughed at that and immediately took on the role. She gave a little bow and then dragged Kyle off to the dance floor. With one little invented idea, she had become a goddess in reality. I smiled. I was good” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He degrades others at art shows, pages 77-81,

“We [referring to Abby] didn’t really get to talk much after that point, as the room was called into silence by a tall woman dressed as, in my mind at least, the queen of the peacocks. She was draped in purple, turquoise, and navy blue, a feather boa around her neck and a silver turban on her head. It was a disaster.

“Thank you all for attending this evening’s salon.” She extended the second syllable of the word far further than it had any right to go. “I would like to begin the evening with the aria ‘O mio babbino caro’ from the great composer Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi.”

If that was how she liked to begin, who were we to stop her? Certainly, none of us could have if we had tried. She started to sing in a high but also plummy voice that was not quite on-key. She had no accompaniment and I was pretty sure that this event was not meant to be a musical one. The fixed smiles on the other members of the audience seemed to agree with me.

I spent more time watching the other people in the room than watching our host, as I always did. As you know, audiences fascinate me. Everyone was being polite, no obvious yawns or rolling of eyes. There were a few whispered conversations happening at the edge of the room, one clearly flirtatious between a young man and woman dressed in absurdly shabby clothes. He leaned in and kissed the tip of her ear, and I found that to be quite ostentatious. The four ladies squished on the small sofa were communicating with one another through little hand squeezes on the leg, or taps with a foot whenever the soprano hit a particularly piercing note.

There was a man holding a notebook who looked like he was ready to give up on music, and another older fellow beside him, his eyes closed, seemingly transported by the song. I made eye contact with a woman in her fifties with long gray hair braided over her shoulder. She gave me a wink and I realized I had a coconspirator in a way. She too was taking in the art of the audience far more than the art on “stage.”

When our host, whom I had now decided to call Madame Peacock, finished, she also found that she would like to sing us something from Tosca, and then a ditty by Mozart. I looked at Abby, who mouthed, “I’m so sorry” back to me.

Finally Madame Peacock had had enough of sharing her gifts and the first performer of the night went up. I had thought the opera was pretty painful but I had no idea original poetry was on a whole other level. Have you ever heard someone’s original poetry? Try not to if you can.

There was a speech about the current state of German politics, then a little scene between a man and woman very much like a classic vaudeville act but without the talent. Next was a thin short man reading some kind of treatise on whether anyone could truly be good. Someone then read from a novel they were writing. Oh, to never have to hear a chapter from another unpublished novel ever again. Too many people write novels these days.

I’ll give you this, while the art presented didn’t inspire me at all , what it lacked definitely did. I was suddenly very aware of the responsibly I was taking on in my Illusion of Living. The good work I’d seen over the years, the plays and films and books that had made me think and added to solidifying my philosophy, all of that really came into sharp focus that night. Good art could change the world. But bad could definitely tarnish it.

“You didn’t enjoy yourself?” asked Abby as we walked toward the bus stop together.

“Did you honestly think I would?” I replied.

“I thought you might find it fun, yes.”

“The writing was just terrible, that little play. It was almost painful!” I said.

“Well if you think you can do any better, why don’t you write one yourself?” she said.

I had no interest in writing a play and was about it tell her so, but then I thought about it. I did love plays. I did love movies. I’d seen enough that of course I could write one. How hard could it be? Besides showing these artists types what a real work of art was…well I thought harder about it. It would be quite something to give them even a small sample of the Illusion of Living.

“If I write something will you read it with me?” I asked.

“I’m not an actress, Joey,” she said. It was too dark to see her expression but she sounded genuinely concerned.

“It’s just a reading, you’ll do swell.”

“If you insist…” she said, biting the inside of her cheeks. [...] All the moralizing I’d seen that night, philosophies discussed, it was too much and ultimately hot air. Also not very funny, and as you know, it is my firm belief that funny is the ultimate tool for communication.[...] The idea came to me then, and with little effort I wrote my play. It needed very few edits and, in fact, was practically perfect in its first draft. To say I was a natural would be bragging a bit, but I was. Is the truth bragging? I’d always had a way with words. Even Lottie had said so. I’ve always believed that hard work and practice are the most important things to get you where you want to go. But to be truly gifted at something you need to be born with an innate talent. That’s all there is to it.

The evening of the next salon arrived, and Abby and I immediately went over to Madame Peacock, dressed true to form in yet another mess of bright colors and this time a gold turban, to let her know of our plans.

“Oh, marvelous,” she said with those plummy vowels of her. “You shall close off the evening!”

“And would you do us the honor of reading a small role for us?” I asked.

The request made her puff out her chest with pride. Peacock indeed.

“But of course, my, but of course!”

I handed her a copy of the script, and she peered at the pages, clearly needing glasses but refusing to succumb to the needs of older age” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He degrades Madame Peacock later in the chapter as well, quote from page 92,

“Madame Peacock came over and complimented us and she was not one to allow others the center of attention for too long” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He also degrades people that he doesn’t even see, page 202 of The Illusion of Living,

“But again, in the spirit of honestly, it took me many years to realize what I’d been chasing.

Of course, like with all my other realizations, true understanding came to me in an instant and with great clarity. I see things in ways that most don’t. I understand things so much more quickly. This isn’t to say I am better than anyone because others aren’t like me in this way, but more to say it is yet another reason why I was put on this earth, like a messenger, like Mercury, let’s say, here to help those that can’t help themselves” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Then, with a group of other strangers and Abby on pages 69-70,

“regardless. It was because of Abby I took the odd art classes, usually late-night ones taught by failed artists who couldn’t afford to do anything but teach students who had no real talent. Obviously Abby and I were the exception [...] I could have been the head of the Art Department at my studio, but I chose to hire those who had solid work ethics, even if they were not quite as remarkably talented” (Kress, A. (2021).). He’s not only degrading strangers again, but he’s putting Abby above them, love-bombing her as he degrades them.

He once again does this on pages 75-76,

“the event took place in a large apartment on the Upper West Side, it was done up with modern Art Deco flourishes, and whoever owned it (I never did find out) clearly had some money. The guests however did not. That is to say, some of the guests did not. There were definitely the stereotypical starving artists in attendance at this party. None of them bothered to try to look dressed up for the evening, which I found odd. Stranger still, since I was not used to classes mingling in the first place, was that even those who had money were dressed like they didn’t. It was clear from the quality of their fabrics, their general cleanliness, and the shine on their shoes who the people were who had the money to afford a classic suit or an elegant dress. But it was so strange to me. I understand it, but I didn’t respect it. It was a show, some kind of demonstration that they didn’t care for material things” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Here Joey states that he doesn’t like what these wealthier people are doing, but earlier in the book stated, “I have always considered myself a humble man, in fact many have praised this quality in me. It’s true that despise my success and fame, I remain constant to my values as a person” (Kress, A. (2021).). You would think someone who thinks like this would respect more affluent people that are humble and dress down.

He also degrades his peers from when he was a child. Quote from page 61 of The Illusion of Living,

“in school reading was a core part of the curriculum, but I did just enough to get excellent grades (the amount of effort was similar to my friends just trying to pass; I was a gifted child and that meant my efforts equaled ten times as much compared with theirs)” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He again compares himself as being better than the other kids on page 196,

“mud. I have always hated the mud. The dusty side street that my father’s shoe repair window opened onto turned into a swamp even in a light spring shower. Most kids would love that kind of thing I guess, heck I saw them with my own eyes. The neighborhood kids my age playing in the muck, throwing fistfuls at one another like melting chocolate snowballs. The mud would get so thick and dark, almost oozing black. Nothing about it appealed to me as a kid. And this contempt only cemented as I got older” (Kress, A. (2021).).

When he was a kid, it wasn’t just other children he would degrade, quote from page 199 of The Illusion of Living,

“here is something that I find rather shocking within myself, but for the sake of complete honesty, which is so very important to me especially in this book, I will admit that I never was that excited by the local fairs and such that made their way through town when I was a kid. There was a delight to be sure, but there was something too artificial about their worlds. Too transient. The people who worked for them had little to no passion for their jobs, and as a child from a home with limited income, I soon discovered I preferred watching theatrical performances where the actors put everything they had within themselves despite the world around them being a mere stage. I have spent my whole life watching others, and there is a joy, to be sure, walking immersed in the fair environment. Yet, these fairs and festivals of my youth were so lacking any heart that it all just felt disappointing. The artifice was too fake. It was a lie. Not an illusion” (Kress, A. (2021).).

It’s not random adults that he degraded as a child. He even degraded his father, page 200 of The Illusion of Living,

“I don’t even remember what possessed my father to take us to visit one of the first ever permanent amusement parks in the world. There was something inside him that enjoyed whimsy, to be fair. After all, he did play make-believe with elves and such” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey is also manipulating the employees and readers of The Illusion of Living through a quote on page 182,

“I can always find more talent–but for them. They really will never get another opportunity quite as wonderful as working at the studio, that’s for sure” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Near the end of The Illusion of Living, in the “day in the life” section, Joey says this about Shawn Flynn on page 228,

“Shawn Flynn does an excellent job, but I do like to make sure that every doll looks the same and has the same kind of smile. Good thing his creativity knows no bounds even if he can get a little defensive when he needs to be corrected” (Kress, A. (2021).).

There is quite a bit to unpack here, despite it only being two sentences. The first thing I would like to address is the fact that Joey goes over every doll that is sent out from Heavenly Toys. At surface level, this seems normal, he wants to see what the product looks like, but he’s undermining Shawn’s ability to do his job by checking every single toy, especially when he also says that he “does an excellent job” and that “his creativity knows no bounds” (Kress, A. (2021).). Also, “he can get a little defensive when he needs to be corrected” is an interesting statement for Joey to make (Kress, A. (2021).).

In chapter three of Bendy and the Ink Machine, Rise and Fall, you can find an audio log by Shawn at his work area, where he says,

“"I don't be seein' what the big deal is.

So what if I went and painted some of those Bendy dolls with a crooked smile?

That's sure no reason for Mr. Drew to be flyin' off the handle at me”” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

Shawn here isn’t getting a “little defensive” over what Joey said. He’s upset that Joey screamed at him over smiles on children’s toys. This is very different then from what Joey tries to convince the reader of.

“Needs to be corrected” is also a weird quote from this section (Kress, A. (2021).). I believe Joey here is referring to what Shawn calls “flyin’ off the handle” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). Joey is attempting to show that he pays attention to his employees and that he’s willing to help them and bend things to what they need. A very false claim based on the things we’ve seen him do.

Also, in the “day in the life” section of The Illusion of Living, pages 225-226, Joey states,

“9:30 am.: Mr. Morris with the Art Department. Now, of course, this has changed to Miss. Lambert. It’s interesting to see the difference in their approaches. Morris was always a little late and always flustered, carrying piles of papers in his arms like he’d swept everything off his desk just as he was rushing to come meet with me. Quite frankly, it’s very likely that’s exactly what happened. Abby on the other hand is always early by five minutes and comes with her neat portfolio all ready for her presentation. Some might find Morris’s way a sign of his creativity but I personally find Abby’s manner much more conductive to actual brainstorming and creative conversation, and also her work far more exemplary. I’ve noticed the art coming out of the department these days has a much more finished look before I even see it” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey love-bombs about Abby while putting down another employee, having her shine more than someone, building her up, so she won’t ever want to leave the studio, and at the same time, making Morris feel that he has to rush to finish everything to make Joey happy, despite also knowing it won’t make Joey happy because it isn’t perfect.

He compares the two earlier in the book as well, page 163,

“When it came to honesty, Abby was quite expert at it. It’s why we’ve had such a good working relationship over the years and why currently she is running the Art Department while Morris is away” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He builds up Abby as being better than Morris. Knowing it’s a statement that the reader will likely believe as we know nothing about Morris besides him running the art department, having papers scattered everywhere and that he was overseas at the time the book was being written.

Then again, earlier in the book, page 157,

“she [referring to Abby] wasn’t the only artist being hosted that night, and while I always had such a great affinity for her–heck I hired her as an artist and she works for me to this day, in fact at this very moment she is our interim head of Art while Morris is overseas–her work back then was not polished. She was still playing around with her version of an impressionistic style. It never quite resonated the same way the actual impressionists did. The one thing that did work for her though was her constant dark undertones, the feeling of something sinister under the surface in all her paintings” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He does it in another section as well, pages 166-167,

“it wasn’t that Abby lacked skill, it was just she didn’t know how to draw a cartoon. Not back then at any rate. Now she’s as proficient as anyone. She always had the talent, she just needed the practice. But back then, in that little diner, her first attempt was not, well, very good” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He love-bombs her and degrades her at the same time, similar to the behavior he displays around Sammy later in the book, a second quote from further down on page 167,

“”I’ll keep playing with this,” she said as we both stood up and she gave her satchel a pat.

“Thank you,” I remember replying, not feeling very hopeful” (Kress, A. (2021).). Joey love-bombs Abby to her, but degrades her to the reader. Joey didn’t believe that one of his closest friends, would be able to emulate what he wanted, even if she tried back then.

He also love-bombs Abby and degrades random strangers again, page 204,

“I immediately asked my waiter for a pen and started sketching my thoughts on a napkin. As you know, I excelled even in that one art class I took with Abby years before. And of course at the studio there are moments when explaining simply will not do, you just have to show your team what is inside your head. Oh if only that were possible beyond the metaphor. The imperfect translation of my perfect thoughts. It’s the art of explaining that is so unappreciated. Though I am sure you will agree, having now reached the latter half of my book, in that I too excel” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey does very similar behavior to Abby and also Henry when they show up at his apartment, pages 169-171,

“I preferred going out, but I was happy to invite Abby on occasion. She had never brought a guest, I had never thought to extend the invitation beyond just her. And then suddenly there was, that Saturday night, at my door, with someone I had not ever expected to see in my home, Henry Stein.

“Abby, and …Henry,” I said. Of course I let them both in. I gave her a look as she walked past and she gave me a small sharp wink in response. What was she up to?

They sat down in my small living room, taking up the full width of my modest dark green sofa (the apartment had come furnished), so I sat on the hard wooden kitchen chair and stared at them both. “What a pleasant surprise,” I said before standing up immediately to get them something to drink from the pantry. Warm orange soda was hardly the thing for a hot night like tonight, but I was still saving for an icebox.

“Thanks,” said Henry as I passed him one.

“Always my pleasure,” I replied, sitting down on my hard chair.

“Joey, I know you’re confused about why Henry’s here. You’re too polite for your own good,” said Abby with a laugh.

“Not confused, just curious,” I replied.

“I hope you can forgive me, but I told Henry about your little devil,” she said, placing her soda on the low coffee table. It was covered in circles from watermarks of days past so I didn’t feel a need to hand out coasters.

“Oh?” I said casually, though inside I was feeling a little angry now. I don’t do well when people are disloyal, and this was something I’d expected to be kept between me and Abby. Then I stopped and controlled myself (I have excellent control over my emotions) and realized I had never actually told her there was anything secret about this. I’d have to be more careful in the future. Believe you me, I have been since. A contract is a fine thing to have between colleagues, even finer at times between friends” (Kress, A. (2021).).

What really sticks out here to me is that Abby says, “I hope you can forgive me,” it’s almost as if she knew how Joey would react. I also found Joey saying he has “excellent control over [my] emotions” to be absolutely hilarious as we know that’s not true. A quote from his Turn it Off audio log,

“keep railing on that, get it? Dreaming! Dreaming! Dreaming!” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

It also seems that Abby knew Joey wouldn’t want to see Henry draw or hear him out, at the very least, page 171,

“I wasn’t interested in humoring him. I’d had a long week, I was feeling excited about Joey Drew Studios, I didn’t need this tonight. But I looked up with a smile, stood up, and crouched next to the table” (Kress, A. (2021).).

This isn’t even the first time he love-bombs and/or degrades them both at once, pages 161-162,

““So, Joey what do you think, your honest opinion, please,” said Henry, crossing his arms over his chest and turning back to his work.

I always inwardly shake my head when people ask for honest opinions. The only person I know who wants a truly honest opinion is me. Everyone else wants a truthful-sounding lie. They want the illusion. Ah, you knew I was going to write that now, didn’t you? Well I hope you did. Otherwise I would recommend starting this book over again.

A lie it was, of course, with a sprinkle of truth to make it palatable. “You do interesting work,” I replied. “I must say, it’s really inspired me.”

I could almost hear Abby’s eyebrows rising to the top of her forehead. She thought that the second part was the lie, but the funny thing was, as you know, it wasn’t.

“Have I?” asked Henry, looking back at me in surprise.

“Oh yes. I think, Henry, you might be accidentally responsible for charting the course for the rest of my life.” It was a dramatic thing to say but I enjoy saying dramatic things. And it wasn’t untrue entirely. While I was responsible for the course, it did feel like Henry was the young boy hiring the captain of a ship to go in search of a buried treasure he’d once heard tell of. He had no way of finding it, had no skill in sailing, but I could do the work and, as the grown-up, keep the treasure for myself.

“That’s …something,” said Abby. She sounded confused and amused.

I turned to her. “You don’t believe me, I can tell.”

Henry just stood in silence. I wasn’t sure if it was his doubt of my sincerity or more that he was overwhelmed emotionally by what I had said. I never found out, as a small man with a surprisingly low voice came over to talk to him and he turned his attention to that conversation.” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Abby is love-bombed even more in this chapter, page 176,

“Abby didn’t join the studio until three years later. When she finished art school she’d decided to give it a go as an artist herself. She didn’t do too badly, but she didn’t do well either. [...] It was shortly after that she joined the studio as an artist. She rose quickly through the ranks because I was right, all she needed was a little practice and she became the best artist on my team. Having her leading the department right now has been a complete joy” (Kress, A. (2021).). This is also controlling, as Joey states he “was right.” He’s trying to have control over Abby’s wants and desires.

I also think Abby was scared of upsetting Joey because of a quote from page 171,

“Abby and Henry never ended up working together, which I suppose is a little funny to think about considering they had been friends before I showed up on the scene. I think to this day they still keep in touch, though we never really discuss it” (Kress, A. (2021).). I believe Abby was scared of just saying Henry’s name around Joey.

Joey continues to love-bomb Abby in this book, page 77,

““did you do this? I asked.

“I did.”

It wasn’t bad. “Not bad.”

“From you that’s high praise indeed.” She didn’t say it sarcastically, by now she knew I wasn’t the kind of person to just hand out compliments” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Even during the play Joey does with her, he’s love-bombing her to the reader, quote from page 84,

“more laughter here and at this point I could sense Abby relaxing into her role. She wasn’t very good, and that was okay. But there was something so charming in how hard she was trying. Effort is all that matters so long as you have someone like me leading the way” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Despite it only being a few sentences, I would also like to draw attention to how Joey talk about Wally Franks in The Illusion of Living, pages 205-206,

“he was a good man, a solid handyman. Never complained, just did what was asked of him. A real self-starter too. I never knew when I’d run into the fellow, what time of day, where in the studio he might be. But there he would suddenly appear, fixing the projector, tinkering with the boiler, unclogging pipes. Yup, he could do plumbing too in a pinch, and I had a great deal of respect for him” (Kress, A. (2021).).

There are quite a few things we need to address here. I’ll start with the two major ones. The first one is that Joey equates “being a good man” here with “never complained.” That is extremely dangerous thinking, especially because he’s associating respecting Wally with him never complaining. The other thing also has to do with “never complained.” We know that Joey is lying, or is at least unaware (but I highly doubt that) of Wally’s complaining. Quotes from a few of Wally’s audio logs,

“so here's my beef with this whole Gent thing. I went to school, yeah, that's right, me! Star student of Brickmore High! I know my potatoes! So where's this Mr. Connor get off telling me what to do?” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).).

“These people gotta lighten up. I mean hello! You make cartoons! Your job is to make people laugh.

I'm tellin' ya, If these people don't start crackin' a smile every now and then, I'm outta here” (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). It seems to me that Joey was trying to undermine Wally’s issues with the company and change his thinking pattern to not include those kinds of thoughts by constantly praising him for how wonderful he did at his job.

It’s also not just people alive at the time that he’ll love-bomb and then degrade. Joey does this with pictures taken of a recently deceased friend, Walter Richmond, page 120,

“I turned to take in the rest of the pictures. I had to agree. I might not know a lot about art (at least I didn’t at the time, I hadn’t met Abby yet), but I knew what made something special. It’s a skill I’ve always had. There was something not quite good enough about the pictures. They were framed a little wrong, or a little out of focus. They would work as excellent historical documents for researchers later in life possibly. But even then maybe not. Faces were hard to see and words hard to read” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Joey even treats basic needs as being “love” when he complies with them, page 190 of the employee handbook,

“free toilet paper

Worried you’d have to bring your own toilet paper to the studio? Think again! The bathrooms at Joey Drew Studios are stacked with all the TP your little heart could ever desire. And it’s two-ply too. Now that’s love” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

He also degrades new hires on the final page of the employee handbook,

“Bendy is the perfect cartoon character, and the truth is, you probably won’t dream up anything quite as good as him” (Staff, S. I. (2019).).

He also love-bombs and then degrades me that are supposedly his friends, quote from page 35 of The Illusion of Living,

“as luck would have it, she [referring to Lottie] was shipped off stationed in London, which made me happy, as I knew the war was on the Continent and, while I might not have been in love with her, I thought of her fondly” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Then again love-bombs and degrades Lottie on page 36,

“I liked that she had found herself a beau, or at the least someone to give her some attention” (Kress, A. (2021).).

Another “friend” he love-bombs and then degrades in the book is Nathan Arch, pages 197-198 of The Illusion of Living,

“there was no way Arch could answer it. He was and is a highly intelligent man, but there are limits for everyone [...] Quite frankly, I was interested in being God. Ha, I know, a sacrilegious thing to say, but I know no other way of putting it. While my peers all aim for growth and money and expansion, these to me are necessary evils in order to truly capture my deepest goals. To truly change the world and how to see it.

If that isn’t godlike then I don’t know what is.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am a mortal man. But some mortals leave behind the immortal, they create a legacy that is beyond just the grit of an everyday existence. Beyond just paste and cover. They are elevated, they float, they are raised to the heavens. No farther distance can be found from the mud below. If earth is the beginning, heaven is the destination. But what is heaven? The afterlife? Of the life that exists after?

You see how my thoughts go, you see how complicated they are, this is why when Arch talks of amusements parks my stomach cliches and my jaw gets tight. But it is also why I don’t reply with anything other than “But of course.” Some things are not worth the time to explain. Though I hope he better understands when he reads this book” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He degrades Nathan again in the book, pages 214-217,

“he’d never understand. No one would ever understand. [...] I knew he respected me. Everyone does, of course. [...] He never would really understand us, but he still well, for want of a better way of phrasing it, wanted to be us.* [...]

*NateA: I think Joey could have come up with a better way of phrasing it personally because that’s nerve been true. I like me just fine. He also wasn’t quite right about my love of creative types. Most of them bore me or are far too self-indulgent, No, it was Joey I admired, and so I also admired his creativity. Isn’t it just like him not to see the compliment? [...]

“You getting cold? I’m getting cold,” said Arch. He rubbed his arms like a pantomime actor demonstrating exactly how cold he was feeling.

I wasn’t. But that’s also something special about me. I don’t tend to get overly cod, or got, or hungry, or anything. Outside forces have little impact on a body when your mind is this strong’” (Kress, A. (2021).).

He also love-bombs his driver, page 217,

“I had just hired Simmons, but already I knew this man was going to have a long career with me. He was dependable, quiet when I needed him to be, talkative enough to make me laugh, and knew the best routes through the city depending on the time of day. Like I have said many times in this book, you do your job well, no matter what it is, and there’s a place for you with Joey Drew” (Kress, A. (2021).).

7. Ritualistic and sometimes public confession of sins - Does not apply

8. Phobia indoctrination: inculcating irrational fears about leaving the group or questioning the leader’s authority:

a. No happiness or fulfillment possible outside of the group - Joey demanded trust without questions asked. People seem to trust him blindly (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). The employees seem terrified of disapproving or being cut out of the group or replaced (YouTube. (2019, March 25).). It is almost like they fear they can not be happy unless they make him happy.

b. Terrible consequences if you leave: hell, demon possession, incurable diseases, accidents, suicide, insanity, 10,000 reincarnations, etc. No proof of this.

c. Shunning of those who leave; fear of being rejected by friends and family - When Henry left, he didn’t have any contact with anyone from there. We don’t know why no other employee contacted him. Joey only reached out to past employees many years later to lure them back to the machine (YouTube. (2022, April 3).).

d. Never a legitimate reason to leave; those who leave are weak, undisciplined, unspiritual, worldly, brainwashed by family or counselor, or seduced by money, sex, or rock and roll - No proof of this.

e. Threats of harm to ex-member and family - No proof of this.

References

" Travaille Dur, Travaille heureux ": Bendy y la máquina de tinta, Bendy y Boris, imagenes de videojuegos. Pinterest. (2017, October 8). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://www.pinterest.com/pin/747316131889167771/

Advisors, S. F. W. (2022, September 6). Steven Hassan’s BITE Model of Authoritarian Control. Freedom of Mind Resource Center. https://freedomofmind.com/cult-mind-control/bite-model/

Amino. (2020, April 28). Don’t let Joey See...: Batim Short Story. Amino. Retrieved December 25, 2022, from https://aminoapps.com/c/the-ink-machine/page/blog/dont-let-joey-see-batim-short-story/1Jza_J0dc6uzXRmwvkm0GPYnv5w36MezeE0

Audio Log. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Audio_Log

BATDR audio logs. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved December 9, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Category:BATDR_audio_logs

Bendy and the ink machine: Chapter 3 - Rise and Fall. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Bendy_and_the_Ink_Machine:_Chapter_3_-_Rise_and_Fall

Dreams come to life. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Dreams_Come_to_Life

Getting serious. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved December 10, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Getting_Serious

Grant Cohen. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Grant_Cohen

Indiscernible. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Indiscernible

Ink machine. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Ink_Machine

Joey Drew Studios. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Joey_Drew_Studios

Kress, A. (2021). Bendy: The illusion of living: An original Joey Drew Memoir. Scholastic Inc.

Staff, S. I. (2019). Joey Drew Studios Employee Handbook. Scholastic, Incorporated.

The archive. Joey Drew Studios. (n.d.). Retrieved December 14, 2022, from https://www.joeydrewstudios.com/archive

Thomas Connor. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Thomas_Connor

Timeline. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 17, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Timeline

Twisted alice. Bendy Wiki. (n.d.). Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://bendy.fandom.com/wiki/Twisted_Alice

Vacations with pay in union agreements, - JSTOR. (n.d.). Retrieved December 24, 2022, from https://www.jstor.org/stable/41816194

What is sexual grooming? identifying the 6 stages. Lewis and Llewellyn. (2019, June 6). Retrieved December 15, 2022, from https://sexualabuselawfirm.com/blog/what-is-sexual-grooming-identifying-the-6-stages/

YouTube. (2017, October 13). Batim: Chapter 3 all alice angel lines. YouTube. Retrieved November 17, 2022, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yaTpaCzwF-8

YouTube. (2018, May 1). Batim Sammy Lawrence (updated version). YouTube. Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCKaUP6u278&t=55s

YouTube. (2019). YouTube. Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3mpGoMt0-E.

YouTube. (2019, March 25). Batim audio logs in (almost) chronological order! YouTube. Retrieved December 23, 2022, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TeSnKNMkDg4&list=PLl_oxibUps7wF7paFLi5ZJaw0iu2PAwie&index=1

YouTube. (2021, October 13). Boris and The dark survival all tapes. YouTube. Retrieved December 23, 2022, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2savP-5Y4BY&list=PLl_oxibUps7wF7paFLi5ZJaw0iu2PAwie&index=2

YouTube. (2022, April 3). Bendy and the ink machine | full game walkthrough | no commentary. YouTube. Retrieved November 16, 2022, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ns18EHkzb20 Screenshots taken from.

YouTube. (2022, November 18). Bendy and the dark revival - all audio logs! YouTube. Retrieved December 23, 2022, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cHpHb_vXIE&list=PLl_oxibUps7wF7paFLi5ZJaw0iu2PAwie&index=4

11 notes · View notes