#threadedsafetypin

[inkdemonapologist]

Okayy I have a question, I love your Escape au so muchh aa its my fav au its amazing I've read every post about it and my question is you said something like crew would leave the house after sometime when they are ready its probably gonna take a long time foe Sammy ro recover to move on but what about Jack? Would he have a separate life or go with sammy?

I like to imagine Sammy and Jack are going to stay together as long as they’re both alive, and once they’re ready to try to live their own life, they’ll get a little house together not too far from Henry.

There was a comment I made once, half-joking, that instead of completely changing their names to escape their JDS history, they just swap last names to use the names of real life songwriters Jack Lawrence and Sammy Fain -- but when I mentioned this to @threadedsafetypin she wrote some really sweet ideas about this secretly being a way for each of them to take each other’s last name. It’s practical, too, of course, but they both know they actually mean it in a marriage way, and I got really attached to that concept actually.

[youllallriseintheink]

Sammy and Jack. “Can we stay like this forever?”

Crisis of Faith, chapter 2

Sammy didn’t dream of Jack again until his next crisis of faith, and Sammy’s faith was very difficult to break. It had begun while Sammy, now a lost one made of fluid ink, was hiding in a wall, watching as a severely ink-infected woman raved.

“Mother, why do you punish me!?” she shouted as, with all the power left in her body, she tried to force open the padlocked doors of the women’s washroom. Her veins, prominent due to age and leanness, were a pitch-black web on her skin, and her wiry muscles had wasted away to bone.

Sammy had, on Joey’s command, overseen dozens of ink infections by now, and knew that there was nothing unusual about Emma Lamont’s case of it. Every single victim he had overseen had held some kind of delusion. Some believed that they were being poisoned by the government or their enemies, or that they were developing a mental illness. A very common one, however, was that they were receiving some sort of punishment, test, or reward from an all-powerful being- either God, or from a seemingly random entity that they’d decided to treat as one.

What if... Sammy’s beliefs were no different from this madwoman, screaming at the ghost of her mother?

Sammy moved on to check on the other infection victims. Even if Bendy wasn’t to be worshipped, the thought of ascension was all that kept him going. He sacrificed people on Joey’s command because the ink had told him to. He wrote his scriptures because he believed they were meaningful. He led the lost ones to Bendy and away from the lies their voices had told them because he truly believed that his voice had been the truth, and it seemed to give them hope, too.

Sammy passed  through the prison of ink creatures as he made his way to Joey’s sanctuary, where he now slept. A Charley was repeatedly banging its head against the bars of its cage. Lost ones wept. Ink stained every surface, making the brightly-lit room feel suffocatingly dark. Sammy was glad to phase through the wall into Joey’s sanctuary, where he could lie down on the couch and rest.

All this had to be leading to something. He couldn’t take it otherwise.

---

Sammy woke to the feeling of someone softly shaking him awake. He opened his eyes to see Jack, tears in his eyes and that disarming smile on his face.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Jack asked gently.

Sammy, with a bit of difficulty, sat up and realized that he was in a hospital room, complete with an IV in his arm. He felt very weak, but also lighter- like a burden had been taken off of him. “Awful,” he admitted.

“Well, you want some good news? The ink is gone. All of it. You still have a lot of organ damage, but it’s nothing they can’t fix in a couple weeks. In other words, it’s over, Sammy. You’re gonna be okay.”

It took Sammy a half a minute to even process that. Once he did, though, he broke into tears of relief and hugged Jack as tightly as he could.

“Thank you. God, thank you for making me come here. You saved my life.”

Jack hugged him back. “Hey, I didn’t make you do anything. I know this took a lot of courage for you. And... I’m really glad you did it. I was so scared when I found you in your sanctuary. You were so sick... I thought I’d lose you. Sammy, I think I love you. But... we can talk about that later. Right now, you need to rest.”

“I love you, too.” Easiest words Sammy had ever said.

After a little more chatting, Jack left. Sammy wandered over to the bathroom to get a look at himself in the mirror. Admittedly, he didn’t look great. He looked like a person who’d narrowly survived a life-threatening illness, because that’s what he was. His skin was still pale and sunken, and he was still pretty gaunt, but the black veins, the bruise-like purple splotches on his skin, and even the staining in his mouth and his long, blond hair- it was gone. When Sammy woke, he would have given anything to see his human face again.

---Two years later---

As often happened whenever Sammy decided to play his banjo, a small crowd had gathered around him. Today, the crowd consisted of three lost ones, Jack (of course), a moderately ink-infected woman, and one of their last healthy men. The song Sammy was playing was "I’ll fly away.” He wasn’t singing it today, but he had sang it for his followers in the past, simply replacing the word, “God’s” with “his,” since “Bendy’s,” unfortunately, was two syllables.

“You know, it’s amazing how you can remember music like that,” said David, the only non-infected person in attendance. “I'm already forgetting the words to my favourite songs since it’s been so long since we’ve been able to just turn on a radio. How do you do it?”

Sammy would have smiled if he still had a mouth. “Well, a part of it is just natural ability,” Sammy admitted. “But. I have a secret to tell you. A part of it is faith. Faith can do great things. Collective faith in Bendy is the reason that we are the largest organization in this dimension. This village was built on faith. Faith keeps us united! Faith keeps us safe! And... faith allows me to to see into the old world every night when I close my eyes. I hope that all of you one day achieve that absolute belief that something in this world is good.”

“Heh. I’m trying. But all I have are nightmares of Bendy,” a lost one complained.

“Well, keep trying. Believe in his benevolence.” With that, Sammy got up and left for bed, patting Jack on the head on the way out. If only they knew that he used to be plagued by those same nightmares.

---

Sammy’s dream came in to form. He was on a bus, sitting next to Jack. Outside their window, snow was falling gently over a pretty,  snow-covered forest. For a while Sammy just sat in peace, holding Jack’s hand and enjoying the scenery.

“Excited to see your parents again? I know I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sammy nodded. “I can’t wait.” Sammy had always wanted to introduce Jack to his parents. He remembered that there was a strong reason why he hadn’t done it while he was alive, but he couldn’t remember what it was. “My Dad is going to love you. You’re a lot like him, you know. Do you remember why we didn’t do this sooner?”

“Because I’m a man,” Jack answered, totally calm.

“Oh!” Sammy had forgotten a lot about the outside world since his transformation, but nothing so big as the existence of homophobia. It was kind of alarming that the ink was affecting his brain that much. “God. I’m so... forgetful. I’ll just have to introduce you as my musical partner or something. It’s unconventional, but they've seen me do weirder.”

“You  know, Sammy, it’s like you got new lease on life after the ink incident. I love that. But yeah, you’re forgetting things left and right!” Jack teasingly jabbed him with his elbow.

“Yeah... Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Jack said. Sammy worried what Jack would think, but looking into those calm brown eyes, he trusted him to not to react badly. And it would be nice to have one person he didn’t have to lie to.

“This is a dream. In the real world, I never got help for my ink infection, and now me and dozens of other people are trapped a dimension full of monsters. I’m holding a large band of people together by convincing them to collectively worship one of them. And you,” Sammy took a deep breath, “you’re there, too. But you haven’t had a coherent thought in years. I keep hoping that one day, we’ll make it out, and I’ll be able to confess to you and we’ll actually build a life like this. So... I’m forgetful because that ink is affecting my mind, and I’m happy because this world is my escape. And because you’re here, of course.” Sammy couldn’t meet Jack’s eyes. He’d probably just made himself sound like a lunatic.

Jack turned Sammy’s head to look at him. “Hey. I believe you. And... that sounds really rough. I wish I could help you.”

Sammy smiled. “Thanks. But you've been helping me all along.” Sammy laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. Maybe once the bus stopped, they’d get some hot chocolate and look at some shops before seeing his parents. It would be nice.

---

Sammy was violently shaken awake by a trio of searchers. More were behind them- as though half the village had crammed itself into his bedroom.

“Bendy is here!” one of them yelled. “What do we do?”

That was a good question. Sammy reached for his axe, but then he stopped. This was, according to the gospel he’d been feeding them, their saviour. “Go out to greet him,” Sammy instructed, trying not to sound as hesitant as he felt. “Bring him offerings of bacon soup. Bring everyone, even the Boris clones- they used to be human, too.”

The crowd of lost ones dispersed. Sammy watched with bated breath from the balcony of his lost-one village home as a massive crowd- lost ones, searchers, people both infected and healthy, and their three Boris clones- gathered along the ink river. Dozens of cans of bacon soup were placed along the river bank as an offering. Bendy stood on the other side of the river. Their drawbridge lowered, but Bendy decided instead to walk on the ink’s surface like the God they treated him as. The crowd gasped and made way. Bendy took an ink-infected man in one arm, stroked his cheek, and bit his face off.

Screams filled the air. People ran in all directions. Sammy was frozen for several seconds before he took action.

“Everyone! Run for cover! We have displeased him! I repeat, run for cover!” Sammy's booming, demonic voice covered the great distance it needed to. Upon seeing the people run and Bendy chase after them, Sammy himself slammed shut his doors and windows and listened in horror to the screams.

When it was over, all he could think to tell his people was that they needed to reconsider how they were paying tribute to the ink demon. If they changed their methods just a little, then the demon would be helpful instead of violent, and they would be freed.

To Sammy’s mixed relief, they actually believed it.

---

eleven years went by. Within the first three, every single flesh-and-blood person in the sketch dimension was infected, killed, or both, and became a lost one.

Their minds were rotting. Increasing numbers of lost ones struggled to remember anything about themselves or the outside world. Wandering aimlessly or resting in ink puddles, they were helpless as zombies.

But not Sammy. Sammy remained- comparatively, at least- as sharp as a whip, and told the lost ones tales so vivid about the outside world that they could almost taste its brilliance and freedom. Sammy only wished that Jack- the real Jack- could understand any of it.

There was nothing to do about that but what Sammy had been doing all along: keep the community together. Keep the lost ones moralized and sane. Figuratively and literally dream of a  better world. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Sammy didn’t want to forget a thing about the real world, but little pieces had fallen away, bit by bit. In his dreams, there were now places he couldn’t visit because he didn’t remember what they were like. His reflection in the mirror had become a human-shaped blur as he forgot his appearance. The same thing had happened to the faces of people he used to remember clear as day. One day, he would forget it all, too- just as everyone else had.

It was hard to keep hope.

One of Sammy’s dreams found him walking down a beach with Jack at his side. Sammy knew that the two of them had relocated at some point, but he didn’t know to where. His American geography was rather fuzzy at this point.

“Can I vent to you about the other world?” Sammy asked.

“Sure,” Jack said. Jack was one thing that Sammy’s memory hadn’t gone fuzzy on. Sammy still remembered every soft curve of his face, every freckle, every detail. His dark brown hair was starting to grey, but not because Sammy remembered him that way- it had been many years, and growing old together was part of the fantasy.

“Bendy came to the village again today. He killed a few lost ones and then left. People are losing faith in me and I don’t know how to get it back. And to make matters worse, a false prophet is going around saying we should worship the angel instead! She’d enslave us if we did that!" Sammy chucked a baseball-sized rock into the water, then composed himself a bit. “And you know, we’re all going to be mindless drones eventually. I’m thinking... maybe I won’t fight the false prophet. I could leave the village, hide in a vent, and spend as little time awake as possible. Ink creatures can sleep for days, you know. What do say? Can we stay like this forever? Enjoy this world until I lose my mind like all the rest?” Sammy took Jack’s hands and looked desperately into his eyes.

Jack hesitated, but by the look on his face, Sammy already knew what his answer would be. “I’m sorry. You know I have to say no. The lost ones need you.”

“But why am I the one who has to stay strong for them? I’m sick of it.”

“Because you’re the one who can. I know it isn’t fair, but you’re the reason they’ve been protecting each other. And it sounds like if you leave them now, they’ll throw themselves at Alice. Do it for them. And if you can’t bring yourself to care about them... do it for me. The real me. You still love him, right?”

“Of course...” Sammy probably would have done this sooner if he didn’t care about the well-being of his searcher friend.

Jack put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “I don’t know how, but you’ll get out some day. And in the meantime, I’m here.”

Sammy tried to think of some objection, but he couldn’t. He muttered a “thanks” and kept walking along the beach. Jack followed. It was, if nothing else, a beautiful night, and he might as well enjoy it.

“Jack... tell me what I look like. I don’t care that it’ll just be something you made up. Tell me anyhow.”

[halfusek]

Commission I’ve done for @threadedsafetypin with the boys 👀

They jammin~ fdjkfd

[inkyvendingmachine]

I’m sorry but I can’t stop ruminating on the overwhelming angst that is the Worst Ending. Would Joey just dump Sammy back on the front doorstep? Can Joey even leave the shed?? Would he have to wait for Henry to go out looking for Sammy and specifically look there?? And omg the thought of Sammy having run off from this big fight (that he totally started) and then getting brought back as this quiet, complacent shell of himself and no one else knowing what the hell is going on. And poor Jack...

Answers this 100000 years later cause I had to take that long to think about it, SO THERE’S A  FEW LAYERS TO THIS. The initial drawing I did just because I was trying to think another version of the scene to draw + add smooch cause I had to wait a WHOLE NOTHER DAY TO POST MY OTHER SMOOCH ART, but here’s the thing; If Sammy stopped pushing back against Joey, Joey would probably get bored with him. While Henry and Sammy push back in very different ways, I think part of what interests Joey to them is included in his need to have that contention? He’d just wander off and get distracted with something more interesting if Sammy just followed him soulessly, that’s not the Sammy he fell in love with. But like you brought up, here’s the other point: Whether or not Joey can physically leave the shed, getting anywhere near the Escape House proper is a bad idea. And he doesn’t have anything to his name except for what Henry left him with in the shed, a forged death certificate probably, and a world of hurt if he becomes publicly known again. So he’s essentially stuck in the shed, which means he can’t wander off and find something more interesting: A broken Sammy is still the most interesting thing in his life right now. I don’t think he’d hide it from Henry either, and he does have some remorse to what he’s done, but he’d be more focused on trying to fix Sammy instead of recognize that he might have had a hand in breaking him, I feel like? 

and then probably just plays out the same as it would from the comic, except Sammy is way more fucked up now. IDK IF THIS IS ANY BETTER BUT AT LEAST JOEY WANTED TO HELP??? AHAHAHA, poor Jack...,,,

[adobe-outdesign]

Some BATIM things I find hilarious: 1) It took only two weeks for Henry's regret to start setting in. 2) Thomas first describes the pipes in the walls as a shoddy job done by an idiot. We later find out he was the one in charge. 3) Norman is the local cryptid who is creeped out by Sammy. 4) Sammy is simultaneously pointy bird man, swole inky man, and sometimes goopy lump with no feet. 5) Joey compares the Ink Machine to mac and cheese in an analogy he changed midway through a written memo.

Thomas, looking at the pipes:

[sparkkeyper]

2, 18, 32, 43, and 47 :)

Quarantine Asks: Questions You Usually Wouldn’t Think of Asking But You’re Bored AF

2: Grilled cheese or PB&J?

Hmm. I have to be in the right mood for either. Right now it would def be grilled cheese.

18: What’s that one TV show that you’re a little bit embarrassed to watch but you still like nonetheless?

Anybody remember Pirates of Dark Water? The 90s Hannah Barbara cartoon about pirates and treasures and monkey birds, with an all-star voice cast but corny as fuck dialogue writing? Hell yeah I still love that.

32: Rainbows, stars, or sunset colored clouds?

Cloudssssss

43: Pick an old-school Disney Channel Original Movie

Okay so I didn't have Disney Channel growing up so I didn't see most of them but somehow (no idea how??) I caught Luck of the Irish like four times and my little Irish-descended ass thought it was amazing.

47: How do you top your ice cream?

After eating a ton of different toppings, I always fall back on the classic whipped cream and maraschino cherries, haha.

[bertrumstrousers]

Having 763588378 feelings about Bertrum caring for a sick Sammy courtesy of @threadedsafetypin and I cannot stop drawing them…

feat. “Bertrum puts Sammy into his shirt” and “Bertrum puts Sammy into his shirt in a different way”

[thatradfailure]

@threadedsafetypin Hello, your Secret Satan here! One of your prompts was for religious angst with Sammy Lawrence, so I hope you don’t mind some including some lyrics from Jonathan Young’s cover of The Bells of Notre Dame. Really happy with the shading on this, and especially that reaching hand is what I’m most proud of for this image lol

Happy Holidays, my dudeio!

[losersplat]

Heyo, @threadedsafetypin ! I'm your secret Satan! You said you wanted something Sammy-centric, so I drew Sammy holding a banjo! Hopefully you like it!

[at4wheadcanons]

Margaret reverts back to her original physical appearance when she becomes extremely sad, frightened, or distressed.

[youllallriseintheink]

41. Sammy and Susie

The prompt is, "your hands are ice cold." This is from a really old set of prompts, but I just had an idea for it. It’s just 700 or so words.

Susie shut and locked the door to her changing room, taking a passing glance in the mirror before turning her back to it. Her other side was under tight control right now. Such tight control that she often didn't hear her anymore. If Susie had any wisdom at all, she would have just let her die. But right now, in the ten or so minutes she had before she had to face the stage again, she felt she needed a set of unbiased eyes.

"Okay, ‘Alice.’ You can come out now. Just a little. You see everything that I see. So... from what you can tell, does Sammy still love me?"

There had been so much awkwardness between them since her transformation. It was partially because Sammy had been a part of it, obviously. They were both trying to pretend that it was a wholly good thing, but Sammy clearly didn’t believe it. It was as though, even while they were together, he could barely bring himself to look her in the eyes, or at the rest of her.

“If he’s just helping me out of guilt, I just wanna let him go. No use hangin’ on to something dead...”

The only response was utter silence. Susie could feel Alice was awake enough to hear her. She was simply choosing not to respond.

“Fine. Be that way.” It made sense, she supposed- Alice wanted her to be weak. For her to find herself in a moment low enough to be taken over.

Who could? A whisper came. Your hands are ice cold. You look completely different from the girl he fell for. You're as hard as a wax candle. You need constant reassurance from him. You’re beautiful, but everything else about this is repulsive to him. Look at his actions. You already have your answer.

Susie sighed and stepped out onto the stage. The red curtain raised and she sang her first song- the same Alice Angel theme song she’d first recorded. It was about a minute into it when she saw him. Sammy. In the front row amongst so many parents with little girls on their shoulders, watching her with admiration. Susie had to fight to keep her performance on track as her heart skipped a beat.

All the things they’d done together, before and after her transformation, and they’d never gone to a concert. Sammy said they were “overstimulating,” whatever that meant. Frankly he did look like the noise was paining him a little. “Think of his actions,” huh? Well, how was this for an action?

Much of Susie’s performance required focus, but during every song she’d practiced enough to make second-nature, she thought of another sign that Sammy cared still about her. Sammy holding her hand- cold as it may have been- when she was first going to be revealed to the other employees. That time they’d been out together on a cold winter’s day and Sammy had offered her his scarf before they’d remembered, oh yeah, that doesn’t really work on cold-blooded ink creatures. On the nights she’d spent asleep in his arms- they’d never even done that before her transformation- and the times Sammy had listened to her talk about all the challenges that had come with her transformation.

She remembered him saying to her, when she’d asked if he still found her attractive, “Susie, you’re my little ray of sunshine. No matter what you look like.” She’d seen that as dodging the question. But, maybe it had been the truth. This was a big change. Maybe he didn’t find her new form attractive. Maybe he would later, once he was more used to it. Maybe he wouldn’t, and they’d just be friends. The important thing was that he cared. Lord knew that Sammy wouldn’t try to help her if he didn’t- he wasn’t the helping type.

The curtain closed. Hopefully the performance had been okay. She’d put a lot of enthusiasm into this one, but she’d also been really distracted.

You’re fooling yourself, Alice insisted, He killed you. He’s guilty. That’s it.

“And... back down you go for now.” When Susie had first heard Alice’s attempts at manipulating her, it had been frightening. Now it was just pathetic. It would take a few days to completely push Alice’s presence out of her head, but Susie was sure she could. And in the meantime, she needed to go find her boyfriend in that crowd and thank him.

[youllallriseintheink]

39. Grant and Shawn

“So, uh, Grant, I’m in jail,” Shawn started, leaning against the police station wall with the phone to his ear. He was standing on one leg because the other hurt like hell to put any weight on. The police had practically had to drag him in, and not because he was resisting.

“What am I here for? Oh, you know, murder of countless innocents again.”

“I know it’s not funny. Ah’m sorry about this. But I was hoping you could pay my bail. It isn’t much.” Shawn tested his bad leg again. Not only did it hurt, it felt swollen and inflexible. Not a good sign.

“100$. I’ll pay you back, Ah promise. And uh... could you maybe wait a couple days beforehand? Ah think I broke m’leg, and if I stay here for a couple days, ah’ll get to see a doctor for free.”

“Yep. Hopeless. That’s me.”  

“Fine, ah’ll tell ya. Wally dared me to climb this 15-foot fence that was around a building. Once ah put my hand over the top of it, alarms went off, and I jumped to make a run fer it, and... yeah. That’s what happened.”

“You’ll do it? Thanks, buddy. You’re really going above and beyond, here.”

---

It paid to have a responsible boyfriend, and Shawn was grateful to not have to spend a month in prison for attempted trespassing. The hospital had put a cast on his leg and told him to take it easy, and Grant had picked him up from the police station in a cab take him home.

“So, are you going to be alright living on your own with those?” Grant asked, motioning vaguely at the cast and crutches.

Shawn hadn’t thought of that. “yeah...? Why wouldn’t I?”

“All the new physical limitations you have to get used to. And the fact you live in an apartment a few floors up where you’ll have to manage the stairs every day. I’m just saying...”

After a year of dating, Shawn was well-used to Grant struggling with words, and could generally guess what he meant. “Saying... ‘please move in to my house, Shawn, you make my life so much brighter and it’s so lonely there without you'?”

Grant blushed. “It doesn’t have to be for more than a few days unless you want it to- consider it a trial run, I guess. Or it could be longer, whatever happens. But we have been together for over a year, and I have been meaning to ask for a while, and I mean, I don’t want you trying to do everything yourself right away.  If you don’t rest, you won’t heal. That makes sense, right?”

“Yeah. It makes sense. I’m just sorry that this isn’t under better circumstances.”

Grant laughed a little. “Well, I needed some excuse or I couldn’t have gone through with it.”

“Yep, I know you wouldn’t have. No need to thank me.”

It honestly still felt a little surreal. When Shawn had first asked him out, Grant knew better than to pass up a good thing, but he was fairly certain it would last a solid two weeks before Shawn found someone better-suited to him. Shawn was fun and spontaneous and outgoing and a hundred other things he wasn’t, and he really brightened Grant’s life with his stories and jokes and with their little outings. Of course, Shawn also loved to risk situations like this, but that was part of the package. And somehow, that had lasted for over a year and gotten to the point where they might be living together.

Of course, his mind was cooking up a thousand ways that this could go wrong and end with Shawn realizing something about him that would ruin this, but after having that happen with practically every change in their relationship, Grant had just learned to try and ignore it.

“So, you were playing truth or dare with Wally again? Tell me more.”

The Irishman launched into a story about their adventures. If there was anything that being with Shawn had taught him, it was that sometimes you just need to turn your brain off, enjoy the moment, see where it goes.

[youllallriseintheink]

Irreplaceable

This is a request for @threadedsafetypin- Norman realizes the pain that Sammy is in and attempts to offer some comfort.

---

In the music department of Joey Drew Studios, a violinist was shaking in her boots. Sammy Lawrence looked ready to explode at her-fists balled, teeth bared.

“What are you doing with that violin?”

The woman’s mouth fell open, and at first no words came out.

“Answer me!” Sammy shouted.

“I- my violin is getting repaired right now, and I thought that since no one ever uses this one, I’d borrow it.” Her voice was getting smaller and smaller as she went on, and Sammy wasn’t getting any less angry. “Please don’t-”

“Do you know why no one ever uses that violin?” Sammy growled. “That violin belonged to someone irreplaceable. Now, do you think that you’re irreplaceable?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Well, thankfully you’re right- the violin is hardly important to the song we’re recording. Go home, and don’t come back without your own fucking work equipment. I hardly think we’ll miss your presence. And give me that thing!”

The violinist handed the instrument to Sammy, who handled it like it was made of China. He carefully put it in its customary place in a case near the corner. Then, it was time to record.

Norman had seen the entire scene play out from his projector booth, and had thanked his lucky stars for the millionth time that he wasn’t a creative type. Sammy had always been sour and snappish and more than a little strange, but he’d gotten worse a while after the ink machine had been put in, worse again after Susie’s mental breakdown and subsequent incarceration, and worse yet a couple months ago for no apparent reason. Norman hadn’t seen Sammy not tensed up and distressed in... well, he didn’t even know how long. Clearly, whatever he and Joey were up to (and he knew it must have something to do with the machine), Sammy was not cut out for it. It was causing him a mountain of grief- furthering Norman’s belief that they were killing people. Well, tonight, Norman was going to figure out exactly what was going on.

“Working late tonight, Sammy?” Norman asked him later, once the recording was done. Sammy had been retreating to his office as everyone else prepared to go home.

“Mind your own business,” Sammy replied.

“Alright, whatever.”

Work had already gone late that day. Norman would only have to wait fifteen minutes before everyone left, and then he could go over to the ink machine room and try to unravel its mysteries. If Sammy was staying late to work on it, all the better. Maybe Sammy would do whatever it is one did with it, and Norman could watch, silent as a bird of prey, from the shadows.

Finally, the time came. Norman turned on the lights to ink machine room and inspected its insertion nozzle. There was ink and a bit of film- fascinating. It was also big enough that he could potentially crawl inside to take a look at it with his flashlight. It could quite easily go wrong, but Norman wasn’t exactly a cautious type.

It was while retrieving his flashlight that Norman heard it- the choked sobs coming from Sammy’s office. His first thought was to be glad that Sammy would be too preoccupied to catch him, but it sounded too painful and comfortless for him to ignore in good conscience. Norman sighed and dropped what he was doing to investigate. Let it never be said that I don’t have a big heart, he thought.

The sound had stopped by the time Norman was at his office, so he had to be extra quiet slipping in. Sammy was there, alright-  bent over his desk with one hand wrapped around a half-drained wine bottle and the other wiping tears from his face. It took Sammy a moment to realize that Norman was there, and when he did, he jumped halfway out of his skin and threw the wine bottle at Norman on instinct. Thankfully Norman had time to move out of the way and it only shattered against the wall.

“What the hell. Have you never heard of privacy!?” Sammy shouted.

“Sorry, I just heard you crying and wanted to see what was going on.”

Sammy turned his back on Norman and leaned over his desk again, head in hands. “Well, now you know. So leave me alone.”

“You don’t have anyone to talk about this to, do you?”

No response.

“Look, I know you don’t like me, but I’m the option you have. So, just pretend that I’m not Norman Polk- I’m a warm body willing to listen to your problems in hopes that it’ll make you feel better. You don’t even have to look at me. Alright? And leave out anything you want- I’m not doing this for information.”

Sammy sighed. “Fine. I just didn’t want to go home after today.”

Norman nodded. “Didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment, now that Susie is gone.” He thought he’d sensed a lover’s grief in Sammy, so this was hardly a surprise.

“It’s not that. I’m over her. Before we were dating, I lived with someone else- my friend of thirteen years. His name was Jack Fain, and he died a few months ago. I thought I was adjusting, but that was his violin, and apparently that’s all it took to get me like this.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. He clearly left a big impact on you.”  

Sammy laughed bitterly. “‘Big’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. We knew each other most of my adult life, and wrote songs together for longer than I’ve been working here. We were a duo- I was the impressive one, the one that gets people’s attention, and he was the one who knew how to deal with people. He’s part of the reason I kept working here so long- it let me continue to work alongside him. And, I mean… I have to stay here now, for reasons I can’t explain to you, but I wish he were still here, making it tolerable. Even if I could never see him again, though, I’d give almost any person’s life for him to be alive again. It just isn’t fair that so many people- so many average, unimportant sheep get to live, and someone so irreplaceable and important is stolen from us. Like taking a keystone out of a brick wall, or an organ out of a body.”

Norman didn’t know what to say about that. “I know how you feel.”

“No, you don’t,” Sammy said. He was too drained to growl his words anymore.

"Sure I do. Can I tell you a story?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t tell a lot of people this, but I grew up in a cult. There were three kinds of people there- those who were there out of stupidity, those who were there out of desperation, and those who were born there. That’s what my dad told me, anyhow. He was the second one. He didn’t tell me how he’d ended up there- nowadays I assume his story wouldn’t have been age-appropriate for me. At any rate, he was my rock, like Jack was yours. And when I was eleven, he tried to escape with me, but he was caught. Probably killed. And I wish I could say that I handled it well, but boy, did I not. It felt like my entire world had shattered, and I had shattered with it. And yeah- it isn’t fair. Death leaves behind so many people, but takes the one person you need most. I did get better, though. I promise you, Sammy, one day, you’re going to think of Jack and not be in pain. You’ll just feel appreciation for his role in your life.”

Sammy was quiet for a while. “You do understand,” he said finally. “Listen. I mean this as sage advice and not an insult. When it comes to this studio, mind your own business. Keep poking around and you could end up dead. You’re probably irreplaceable to someone, so you should probably avoid that. And... thank you. It’s hard to believe that I’ll ever be okay again, so it’s good to get the perspective of someone who was there, too, and got through it.”

“Okay,” Norman said. He would have ignored Sammy’s advice had it been put any other way (the “you could end up dead” part might have even been encouragement), but when he put it like that, it made him want to run home to his wife and daughter as soon as he could. “I’m glad that helped. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sammy.”

Sammy nodded in acknowledgement, and the two of them set off for their respective homes.

[youllallriseintheink]

Sammy x Joey for 31

31: “I own you”

This prompt also uses the line, “your heart is racing,” which was requested by @threadedsafetypin for Norman and Sammy. (Sorry, I don’t know how to do the “put image of the ask in another ask” thing.)

---

Norman was a professed lover of drama and mysteries, and Joey Drew Studios was full of them. He’d learned all kinds of things from their loose-lipped janitor, and just by knowing the right places to stand out of sight but within earshot. A few months ago, Norman would have laughed any time he heard his fellow worker speculate as to what all the new machinery was for. Norman knew. He knew and he knew it would never come to fruition, because how could such a thing happen outside a cheesy horror flick?

And then it did. Everyone had heard the ink machine roar to life, but Norman believed he was among the only ones to have seen the beast trapped in the infirmary. The machine worked, it was dangerous, and that worried Norman, because he’d gotten invested in the people he’d watched every day, the same way one might get invested in the characters in a book. He wanted their safety- especially the one he’d found out was meant to be their first target- Susie Campbell.  

Of course, nothing would stop Joey Drew short of murder. But maybe if he could get through to Sammy Lawrence, Sammy could get through to her. In order to do that, though, he’d have to become the biggest devil in Sammy’s life- and lord knew that would be a challenge.

His plan started by pick-pocketing Joey’s keys from him and leaving them on Sammy’s desk.  Not while Sammy was around, of course. Norman had overheard a conversation of theirs in which Sammy had expressed a desire for his own keys to the very basement floor (a place so secret and mysterious that not even Norman could guess at its purpose). Sammy had framed it as being about trust and respect, but with the way Joey always kept the magic stuff vague to Sammy, Norman had the sense that Sammy wanted to make sure he wasn’t being lied to.

Of course, the plan would fall apart if Sammy chose not to take the opportunity Norman provided him. And, hidden in a room near the elevator just a while after everyone else had gone home, it started to feel ridiculous. Sure, he’d feel awful about letting Susie die, but...

Sammy passed by the door, and Norman yanked him in by the arm. The office door slammed shut behind him, and big, brown hands wrapped tight around his arms. Sammy’s heart stopped until he realized that Norman was the one who’d pulled him in and not Joey.

“Okay, what the hell?” Sammy yelled at him.

“Sorry about this. But we need to have a little talk. I’m going to let you go, let you take a seat, alright?”

“Fine,” Sammy grumbled. Norman slowly let go of his wrists. Unfortunately, Norman was blocking the door, so Sammy couldn’t just make a run for it. He sat down on the chair, resigned to whatever Norman had planned for him. And tomorrow, he’d report him to Joey for inappropriate behaviour.

“Alright. Now, I want you to stop doing what you’re doing with Joey Drew. I don’t know all the details of what you’re doing, but I know enough. I know it involves Susie Campbell, and I’m gonna tell you right now that if you hurt her, you’re going to regret it. And then I’ll find out and make you regret it more. You hear? And I’m sorry that I have to do this through threats, but you see, I know that Joey Drew is a devil in your life, and the only way to get you to listen to me instead of him is to be a bigger devil.”

Sammy stayed quiet a moment. “Are you done?”

“Can you tell me that she’ll be safe?”

“No. This might surprise you, but Joey is going to have plans for her regardless of if I participate or not. And while we’re here, I might not be with Susie anymore, but you need to stop watching her. It’s creepy enough when you eavesdrop on men, but when it’s women...” Sammy shuddered. “And aside from that, Joey isn’t a devil in my life! At least, after last night he won’t be.”

“What happened last night?”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because you desperately want to tell someone.”

Sammy grumbled about Norman using his powers on him, then he told Norman everything.

---

Joey and Sammy were in the basement, learning to preserve and hide corpses from a book on the occult that Joey had bought (from where Sammy had no idea). Sammy wondered idly how what started out as a relatively innocuous hobby had led him to this. And yet, it did still fascinate him, and this was a necessary part of the process.

“It says that the formaldehyde will have to cool for ten minutes before it’s ready,” Joey said. “I guess this is a good time to bring up the other thing I wanted to. Sammy, I’m sorry for being so... uptight lately. I don’t want to be laying down all these rules for you to make sure you don’t stray, and I’m sure you don’t like them, either. So, I came up with a way to put my suspiciousness to rest forever! After this, all the rules will be gone! I’ll let you talk to whoever you want- gay men, single women, whoever! Heck, break up with me and go smooch someone else! And I’ll tell you about anything Satanism-related that you want! You see, I might like your body, but I care infinitely more that you’re loyal to me and what we’re creating together. You just have to accept a little favour from me first.”

"And what would that be?” Sammy asked, heavily suspicious.

“Well, you see- a while ago, I was diagnosed with cancer. I used a Satanic ritual to make me healthy again- it worked within a couple days. But it didn’t just make me healthy- it made me glow. Made me look and feel as young and energetic as I’ve ever been. I barely had to sleep. Whenever I tried to come off of them, though, I couldn’t. Even going a week without it made me so weak that I had to buy a cane to get around, and a week after that I was so sick that I could barely complete the ritual again- but I felt great again immediately afterwards and I haven’t tried to quit since. Now, the treatment is expensive, but I’ll pay for it. If you’re truly dedicated to this, I’ve just offered you a guarantee of health and youthfulness for the rest of your days. And it’s painless, I promise- we could do it together in my office every morning. The quitting part shouldn’t matter to you. So just do it, and I’ll never doubt your dedication again for as long we live.”

---

“...And you went through with it.”

“Of course I did! He offered me a blessing! I would have wanted to stay with him anyhow! There was no price for me!”

“Sorry, but no. Sammy, you yell like that when you’re wound up. You are terrified. Your heart is racing. You’re shaking like a leaf, and your eyes are the size of plates. That’s not me using my so-called powers- that’s me using my eyes.”

Sammy looked aside. “Fine. I guess a part of me knew that it was just him saying ‘I own you’ in a different way. But... it’s a better way. More convenient.”

Norman wished he could comfort him. “I’m gonna leave you with one more thing to think on. It sounds like Joey had been taking that spell for weeks when he tried coming off of it. You’ve had it what- once? Maybe if you stop now, there’s still hope.” Norman stepped away from the door. “Go. Sorry I can’t help you.”

Sammy got up and left without a word.

---

It was Thursday night and Norman had come home after work. He was just helping his wife out in the kitchen when he heard a knock at the door. It was Sammy holding a handgun in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

“HOLY MOTHER OF JESUS!” Norman yelled as he knocked the gun out of Sammy’s hand and then kicked it aside.

“Believe it or not, I’m not here to murder you,” Sammy growled, handing him the piece of paper. It read:

I’ve decided that I don’t want to live under Joey’s control anymore. He’s expecting me to meet up with him tonight to help with Susie’s ritual. Thanks to him, I know how to hide a body, but I could really use your help in making sure she’s not the one who dies tonight.

"I’m proud of you, Sammy. Let me get my coat.”

[halfusek]

Commissions I did for @threadedsafetypin with my designs, thanks for commissioning! <3

[As a little disclaimer those events aren’t canon to my AU howerer there are some parallels. :)]

[youllallriseintheink]

52 with Jack and Sammy

52: “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Okay, I realize that you sent this an eternity ago, but I was struck with inspiration. Its title is “Crisis of Faith.”

---

Sammy Lawrence was awoken by a firm knock to his sanctuary door.

“Hey, please open up. You’ve been in there a week, and I’m worried about you.”

It was Jack Fain. Not that it mattered. “Leave me alone! I’m in prayer!” Sammy snapped. It would have been nice to see Jack again, but he’d be so full of questions and concern.

A heavy sigh sounded from behind the door. “Norman thinks he figured out how to open the place. Sorry to do this, but I hope he’s right.”

From within his sanctuary, Sammy could hear the click of a projector and the sound of four instruments being played. All Sammy could do was hide behind his desk in shame. The door screeched open, and Sammy squeezed his eyes shut and listened in dread to the footsteps.

“Oh… Sammy. You look terrible…”

Sammy knew he did. He knew it was all a part of his ascension and it would all be worth it in the end, but right now his mouth and hair were stained with ink, his skin was sunken and pale as ash everywhere it wasn’t turning black, and he’d become bone-thin from the ink destroying his appetite and perception of time. This must have been especially jarring to Jack- the others had at least seen Sammy progress to this state, but Sammy didn’t remember seeing Jack once since he’d been infected.

Sammy felt a warm hand on his shoulder. “What’s happened to you?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Sammy muttered.

“Are you seeing a doctor?”

It was then that Jack’s eyes landed on the dozens of empty ink vials in the corner of the sanctuary. “Oh my God, you’re doing this to yourself. Why are you doing this to yourself?” his voice was a desperate whisper.

Sammy tried to keep himself composed, but he couldn’t. In that moment, he broke down in tears and wrapped his arms around Jack. Jack held him and let him cry himself out.

“You want to know why I’m doing this?” Sammy said, his voice still wet. “I-it’s all leading to something honourable! Something that will be worth it. That’s what it- it tells me! I-it has to. If I did all this for nothing- followed Joey Drew for nothing- no, i-it has to be the Gods’ command. I tricked my own girlfriend into permanently changing her body, and now she’s trapped underground. I stood by while her throat was slit, and there were others, too, I’m evil! I-” Jack was clearly getting alarmed, but Sammy couldn’t have stopped his nigh-incoherent rant if his life depended on it.

“Shh… Sammy, you’re talking nonsense. I sure hope that’s just from stress. But you know what I see right now?”

“What?” Sammy whispered.

“I see someone who’s sick and in need of help. Let’s get someone to look at your physical issues, then we can talk about… whatever it is you were talking about. Alright?”

“I- I don’t know…”

Jack held Sammy’s hands. “Please,” Jack said, and Sammy looked to him with utmost trust.

Then, a loud crash outside his sanctuary sounded, and Sammy woke up, facedown on his desk in his sanctuary. He was alone, and shaking-whether from withdrawal or cold he couldn’t tell. Jack, Sammy remembered now, had died years ago. This crisis of faith must have been bothering Sammy more than he thought, if he was having a dream like that. But, all great saints had their moments of doubt. Sammy reached across his desk for a vial of ink, found a full one, and downed it to soothe his tremors.