#what horrors hath this mess of a human done now

[dc-himbo]

Me, seeing Batman trending: Oh God, what did Bruce do now?

[mwolf0epsilon]

For the Post Studio AU, what was the hardest part of escaping the studio? For everyone? Like, recovery wise, what's the hardest part for the inky Joey Drew Studios crew?

Oof, where to start with this one... I'm gonna set a few exceptions aside that didn't end up in the Cycle but that were still affected by the studio's descent into madness.

Henry Stein - Being a war veteran Henry was already dealing with PTSD and his old injuries, so being stuck in the studio for five long years repeating the same thing over and over, reopened a few psychological wounds he was working through. Coping with double the survivor's guilt isn't easy, especially when he lays awake at night wondering if he could have stopped Joey if he'd just stayed, but Henry is a stubborn son of a gun. He finds ways to march on and does his best to help everyone else.

Sammy Lawrence - The sacrificial cult murders are hard for him to forgive himself for. He's resentful of his own shattered mind, and is stuck in his own personal loop of being unsure of who he is. Surely he's not Sammy Lawrence anymore, nor does he fit the bill of Prophet. When he ends up spitting up the ink that forms Andy (aka Wanderer/Wandering Sin Bendy) he also ends up with a new hurdle to deal with, which is this mischievous cartoon that looks like a character he absolutely loathes, but who is connected to him in a way he might dare say is more like a parent-child relationship than god-subject. Needless to say Sammy needs time and a little bit of affection to bring down the self-loathing walls he's slowly built up. Once he's learned to reach out to others for help instead of being a prideful mule, he'll finally be able to start mending himself.

Jack Fain - He honestly believed he'd never see his husband again, and that nearly broke him. Then when Henry and Linda managed to contact him, Jack was instead afraid that he'd be rejected because he wasn't human anymore. Jack's insecurities made it hard for him to heal and work his way up back into a semblance of humanity, after all who'd ever be able to love a lump of ink that smells like your bathroom plumbing? Thankfully he was wrong and his husband was more than willing to welcome him back into his life. They have 20 years worth of grief and longing to work through.

Susie Campbell - It takes a while for Susie to forgive herself for what Alice had done in the studio (what she'd allowed her to do). But unlike many of the others she can't afford to sit still. As one of the more humanoid survivors she is tasked with helping Allison with groceries and, as such, is confronted with 20 years worth of change. Once she has time for herself she spends it in introspective silence or straight up just writes about it. She ends up uncovering a talent for literature and becomes a self-made successful "fiction" author. Her specialty? Sci-fi horror.

Norman Polk - Norman's life is a living hell even as he is rescued. He's lucid most of the time but (if provoked) he can easily switch back to being a feral mess. The silence is also suffocating to him, so he gets incredibly antsy if there isn't much happening. Combating his wanderlust is difficult so he coped by walking in the woods, often getting lost unless he's accompanied (which is a rule Henry immediately sets up). The most he does at first is to sleep all day and walk all night. Once he gains more of his self-control however, things begin to look up for him. It helps to have an emotional support dog that can keep up with him, as well as having people in his life that treat him like a person still. His little cartoon "child" also brings out the more tender side of his less lucid state of mind.

Allison Pendle - Like Susie she has little time to sit around and wallow. She has many responsibilities and as such is always busy. The only time she has to think and let herself cry is when she's in bed. Thankfully Tom is there for her, even if he can't talk anymore. Being held is enough for her though.

Thomas Connors - At first he's furious at being stuck as a mute cartoon wolf. He feels useless being unable to get a job and help provide for the cabin, and sitting around twiddling his thumbs was never something he liked doing. The only way he has to cope is helping Lacie figure out how to sort out Bertrum's situation, try to find a way to fix Norman's speaker and hearing, as well as keeping an eye on everyone when Allison and Susie leave to go into town. Running outside like an unbound dog alongside Buddy also helps. Freedom and exercise go well together in keeping him nice and active.

Shawn Flynn - He is incredibly frustrated about his size and lack of speech. He used to be a very loud and boisterous man, so being rendered a giant mute unable to convey his thoughts in a meaningful (albeit crude) manner makes him feel a bit isolated. His size also makes it difficult for him to get back into toy-making, but he'll be damned if he doesn't have at least one thing to do with his hands. Most of the time he spends hanging out with Grant who needs a little bit of supervision. He hopes his company helps the depressed mess his dearest friend has become.

Grant Cohen - There's a lot going on in his head, so most days are spent laying around just sleeping. He has very little motivation to do anything, and mostly only trusts Edvard (the Edgar clone that has a piece of his soul) and Shawn. His best days are spent reading or even listening to the radio. That's enough proof that he's unwell but at least coping in his own way. His is very slow progress, but still progress.

Buddy Lewek - He misses his family dearly, and it was hard having to accept he's never going to be a productive member of society, much less see the changes of a progressing civilization. Still Buddy is young. He finds things to busy himself with, enjoys being able to live free and without fear, and still practices his drawing with great gusto (even if he never quite gets Bendy's head right). He won't admit it but running wild like a rowdy pup is actually quite nice. He illustrates Susie's novels.

Abby Lambert - She was in very bad shape like Grant, depressed and suicidal, but was lucky enough to be reunited with her family early on. The occasional letter she sends shows she's doing well and getting better each time a new letter arrives. She feels a little bad that not everyone is as fortunate as her to have the support of their loved ones... Some don't have families to return to at all and that just doesn't sit right with her.

Bertrum Piedmont - Hates life a little less with each attempt Lacie makes at improving his living conditions. Being a stationary amusement park ride takes a toll on one's sanity, so it's normal that Bertrum is incredibly antisocial at first. Fortunately he's slowly warmed up to everyone as time goes on, and the one thing that bothers him is being unable to show his appreciation for the stubborn idiots who keep trying to help him. Inadequacy is a bitch to someone who's used to giving his all.

Lacie Benton - She's a living animatronic and she hates it, but now that she's not immobilized and that Tom built her a new arm, she can actually move on with her life and try to sort the real issues. Starting with Bertrum and Norman who definitely need a bit of refurbishing to live a better life. Surprisingly Bertrum is easier to sort out than Norman, who gets just a little too upset when she touches his speaker or wires...

Emma LaMonte - Like Jack and Abby she got lucky enough to go back to her family. Being as determined as she is, she also managed to regain her human form pretty quickly. Her perfectionist nature may have made her difficult most of the time, but now it's certainly worked in her favor. The one thing that she can't cope with is the memory of once having no legs to speak of... It chills her, the thought she'd never be able to dance again.

The Ink Demon - Binky needs to learn how to people and that in itself is already hard. Learning to cope with the monstrous things he did to everyone else is a whole new can of worms... Luckily the toons seem to like him a lot. It helps to not be cast aside. Henry also makes an effort to teach him as best he can, and show him the affection and understanding that Joey never did.

-

Joey Drew - Fled the country once he realized Henry broke the cycle. Can't deal with the fact he was wrong and that his life's work amounted to nothing, so he avoids dealing with it altogether. He's a wanted man, not by the law but by Henry's own righteous fury and desire for justice, as well as Linda's protective rage over her husband.

Wally Franks - He's the one that got away, so he carries a lot of survivor's guilt on his shoulders. Wishes he'd been able to help in the past, so once Henry contacts him for help finding everyone's families he jumps at the opportunity to do right by his old coworkers. He's the one who gets Norman a dog that wouldn't just flee from him, and he'll donate funds to keep the cabin afloat whenever things aren't doing so good. He visits a lot too.

Dot - She couldn't believe that the people she was sure as hell were dead actually survived Drew's madhouse of a studio. She had to pinch herself when she reunited with them however, because she wasn't expecting... Well... This... She feels responsible for Buddy being stuck as he is because she couldn't save him and instead saved herself. She's taken it upon herself to locate Joey and expose his monstrous actions.

Linda Stein - Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. This lady was not scorned by her husband, but she sure has a bone to pick with Mr. Drew. Luckily for her, Henry feels just as vindictive as she when it comes to Joey's obscene cruelty. Linda does her best to help everyone at the cabin, and gives her all in helping her husband through listening to the things he dare not tell his therapist... Needless to say she's heartbroken that her beloved had to go through two separate hells only to be expected to move on once he got out...

[rwmhunt]

Leviticus, Chapter 22

1. Lo, for That I cannot prosecute my thoughts; I needst here cultivate caution- Then put a hold unto my options, That I cannot challenge him. Any source of information, That be of an admixture truth, And of an admixture untruth, is of a danger, Did you know that? Humbly needst I move toward diamonds and gold's Otherwise-useless demarkation on worth; My face must stay its specter in clay, For it is my career; That I can say: It is mine.

2. Thus, to Aaron, gold and diamonds Bringeth ignominy and unwarranted power; Strewth, they are only much use for The rings of your finger; So let alone the past, Which you mark As a messed up place, How then, is this the valid Strategy for the future? Lo, let us divide and game.

3. Increase the paywall; Holy things are ringing in changes; You are the visitor here- I'd like to take the time To consciously consider you so, for We have reached besmircher's cutoff. It's me, mark it; and Either I am a negative nebulae Of unimaginable everything, And you are a little golden bull, Or you are a negative nebulae Of unimaginable everything, And I am a little golden bull;

4. But know that I shall not give you the word For the thought-track down which You might draw the line Of asymetry, such, That you wouldst know How to rend a perfect opposition To go between. And whosoever soweth dead seeds Among young female researchers Hath faileth the épreuve- It shalln’t do for thy running issue, Moreover, those women who are of Quite senior position and are doing it Unto the coercive nature of such a power's New destruction of ability to focus, As unto the camp's commander, With how Peleg begat Reu; Well, it might be enough to get you pregnant, But wait, where am I going with this?

5. Worm touchers, Creepy pressers, Come, come, observers, Keep from that strange creature; Don't be giving unto me None of thy screaming abdabs; I think on you, Pig dressed as a clown, Eructing unto, then drawing forth A near-entire white, plastic fork; And know you not how this came to me- Lo, it came up with a sequence of items that appeared Not unlike balls of meat, Furred, wistfully, in a grey cowl of reactionary mucus; A kind of veil, a barrier, in effect, Penetratable, at any point, But equally real as a barrier, Gainst our otherwise passive environs, Such as be the diffusion of inert thoughts, or spores, murky, and maintaining of a human resource, I liked to thrill it- The direct and immediate livid relationship Between a font of funding and a media event, O, harmless dalliance of the stationary cupboard- You are knowingly walking, As against your will, A wrong into the carpet, Within the tent of meaning.

6. Looking up to see God's face in the moon, Or whatever it was That can't be drawn, And I won't be drawn; His hands he filled with moisture and His own was sent for ablution Into the improvised basin. So denieth all such allegation Through the washing of thy soule, Clean off; so sloughed away, Away with the diminishing liquid.

7. Sundown with the unseen Woman's leverage on the situation- if you should find a way to redress balance, So she gaineth a bit more power in some manner, Then so what? it was no loss. A new deal, And the bill shall embolden survivors.

8. Positions of power shall have of a hard time In recognizing the coercive nature of that power Within an unbridled relationship; Things that die 'Of themselves', Or are yet rent by nature's horn, Are defiled; while I, a malign influence, lie with my soul distracted; Oh lord, but I've been swallowed by narrative, And tried to keep it communal, Inside and outside; As you are.

9. Pit stop- The horror is the fact; The horror it unfolds Through legions of would-bes Without a meter, like me, Who have applied, Will apply, in perpetuity; Just do it, Or die; if then, As I am still.

10. The individual is always Hedging toward A private business model. Attention-seeking shalln't be of sin, no! Tis sensible, keep with a forward optioning- That's why i tell you, Soujerners and servents, Who art sent to the concession to collect me my messages- My tutu is a Fendi, And my codpiece is a Bosch. We live unto a roaring attention economy. But you're not up to it. I've given them a tomato one, And also I gave them a spaghetti- We struggle to attune to where I'm compelled- Ourselves, as groups, who feel of themselves As blunted against their lack in deserved attention, Because it is a powerful, a dangerous feeling.

11. So eat souls As paid for with a priest's money, On escrow, attention Has always been currency Though rendered unimaginable Since the falling-away of the gold-standard, As was borne unto the tent of meaning, Where every page has a piece carved out, To house an advert's grab For égards; No space is secure, For security hath put an advert thither.

12. Jade lock, To knock the donald offline, So unto a stranger, Gone off to scavenge, The framers that frame themselves As refuges for free-expression Shall be rent at the fringes, forcing A redirection, away from my personal kingdom.

13. But should she go prodigal, Whosoever you are, Howeverso you might express thyself, You may now have a crack at a global audience, With incentives and disproportionate benefits Offered unto the most shameless, The demand of each to pay what scarce attention Might be rendered unto others, To get some fraction of this nominally limited resource, As unto yourself alone. Such are these poor weapons, An oversharing, That, essayed to the personal, Stretcheth my nancy stories To breaking.

O Marigold, I was bad At that, in the territories of fandom, As forced to return Unto the track over and again- Such was my leaky comprehension; Only apparent to me in the afterward, And now, I cannot say I am better.

14. Whence, Enroute from the concession Shouldst be eaten of the item Without, thence, So anguished in the relish, Thou giveth a fifth Of the holy thing; So that the leg shall grow A starfish, whole . Then let us bend our dark tubers towards, And look the knot, as in at an eye-

15. What's gold and glitter, But to mock a toom, And maketh of myself A symbolic same, Wrought as an aesthetic echt; Where diplomacy is weak, The aesthetic be yet The sole portal unto The conveyance of meaning; Verily, here, that I keep within The aesthetic of thought Whereby action is always y, You are i, and The antagonist be markated x; Where holy might only Fall down to one's discretion, You should've known That I wouldst be so solid.

16. Or suffer them to bear the enquiry of trespass, Felt as an information glut, Whilst eating of their holy orders, Found relishing within the anguish, And those who want it, Want it as much as they can get it, And  there is more access than can be vaunted, For, in an attention economy, one is never not on. Yes, me. O the guilt.

17. Attention is akin to the spirit; That it be vital but conventionally invisible, And thus, think not very much upon it, But unto whom, being unable to share A simple encounter with it, Wouldst soon become an artifice of torture.

18. Tell Aaron et al ensundry, To take up of stock with sarcastic markets, Sarcastic markets and I, impunity; The sacrifice of your own will I hand you freely; or no; T'was never yours to oblate, But sacrifice thy quasi-will, As will thee, Which is mine, against The short hedge, Thus maketh me of a currency exchange.

19. And an haut stud dost thou, unto me, weasels? By your whimsically free-will sacrificing? How charmingly lame. I sense Actors at play, in a very long game Of grooming the disaffected- Call me my boys in- then Send a lie to the long deceiver, To use the ruse, in turn, like poison, For to wish you that which upon may be Enabling unto the benefit of thine enemy.

20. It's no hambone, No hobbling billy- If he tells or interferes I'll fill the well in; its Prophets in stocks and neck-irons time, Else tolerate such increasingly radical agendas Of such gleefully uninhibited platforms as Where followers might laugh At biblical memes and opine such as- 'I'd rather do drama than a play, where, You can't say, really, What you want to say.' Go long, my cowhands, go long.

21. And peace is a sacrifice Of the streaming platform, while Attention has always been currency, Same. Our abilities to pay heed are limited; Not so our abilities to theoretically receive of it; No need to adequately substantiate If you can bamboozle With all the time in the world, Ka-pow-ka, ching-ching, da-da, Badoo-daboo-baday; Trust-modesty, yay, verily. Humility is hard to sustain In an attention economy. I only see me accelerating.

22. Blind, broken, maimed; Cankered, scurvied, wan with the wen, Thus, by my lights, The fault shall be displaced, Be it cleaned or weeping, Tis a no-no, get me another. Such was The schism that fractured the donald, Sent out to extend a tortured metaphor, Became too much of a liability To be held in high office- But if the stranger doesn't come, After all the things I’ve done for him,

23. Well, it's alright for a free-will offering Which you feel compelled to go along with, But it's not good enough for a vow offering As be brought unto online-influencer culture, And it might be enough to get you pregnant But it shan't be enough to stir my interest- I require an extreme case of humility, Whereby a person giveth his all to a presence so completely selfish As to serveth no other purpose. It's me.

24. But the reality is far less complicated than Moses, Hiding his damage behind a veil of linked-up back-channels, Recoiling at what his fellow hardcore moderators attempt to oblate; Too engrossed within the tents to consider anything outwith While hoping the whole doesn’t spin out of control.

25. Corruption is in them, strangers, Bethinks, flooding an affiliated image board So thoroughly that it becometh abomination. Here increaseth the shamelessness of wanton Allegation,  terror co-option of a social platform, which struck with the rise of a reality magik-vision, Alike as came unto a mid-80s index of abundance, Shewn running away whilst attempting to make focus On the ever-deterioratingly indistinct Object of the distancing, that It’s only when, at stopping to think about it, That the understand can be ascertained as to quite how rife it is.

26. Here, he left a passing message for Those who might collectively commandeer: Abide by life; that, if, then, I wouldn't be here.

27. Debates about amplification And attention-hijacking form a Siege mentality Of the corrupted Federal Apparatus- For seven days beneath the dam, As then a fire spiralled further Toward a more outlandish means Of unconstitutional civic theatre,

28. Whereby a calfling must be made to last The night and know it's mother As having died before slaughter; So the community Moved in after it went dark, Enjoining, then modulating, then killing off, And now Your complexes are all cooked in, Deeply infringing upon the weirds of others.

29. So must you make sacrifice To your very free will, As to common patriotic causes, Or else be sieged Within the corrupt Federal Apparatus.

30. The fundamental thing is: You cant escape my attention economy; Eat everything now, For nothing shall be saved, And this same day shall be Until tomorrow; when again, it's me.

31. Lo, and you must; it's me, remember? But by now all this blood and all this law Was affecting them, as had long been within their dream, Where they have their own rules, quirks and cultures, Which they ignore at your peril; Where environments play out upon a knife-edge, And attention might simply be a lens Through which to read the events of the moment While running away.

32. Herein, power shall not be trusted To recognize affiliated abuses of power; Yet, check, however, before Redirecting such missives from my personal kingdom, For lo, there shall be nonesuch insubordination, As might mitigate against, for I shall be hallowed; Me me me me, So you;

33. Thus, I lay my notional claim Unto my servant-leadership- as bang, That brought you out of the land, Didn't it? Akhenaten to me. So Leviticus stood at The simply-inflated Size of Capitalism, To whom, hereto, On a bench they'd built Between themselves, Be here, thisway, is addressing- 'Imagine; You have been wrong For a long long time now.'

[afanoftheglassscientists]

The Glass Scientists...Midnight Predictions?

Pupy and his creatures hath returned and I immediately wanted to start this week’s predictions after last week’s page.  If the tgs tag wasn’t so cozy I might have made like seven different posts by the time this Sunday.  As it stands I feel like if I do more than three posts a week I’ll end up swallowing everyone else’s hard work because of the frequency.  These posts are long because I still have some restraint left in me to wait...but then I spend way too long on this post and Monday rolls around...whoops.  So now this is...a Glass Scientists MIDNIGHT Predictions post!!!

Anyway tailors are scary and they scare me, but I wonder why Jasper’s a little frazzled at the thought of them?  Also Jekyll what are you doing with Jasper’s collar?  Are you straightening it or loosening it?  I hope its the latter because my child must be set  f r e e.  F R E E   H I M  !  !  !

After exploring these questions regarding tomorrow’s page I’ll be talking about Jasper’s immunity to the nightmates.  Last week I actually came close in predicting that Jekyll can still concentrate on doing productive things like helping Jasper, but last page reminded me of what makes Jasper unique in the story as well as my predictions made for this chapter as whole.  It also reminded me that Jekyll’s desire to be depended upon is going to be even more prominent now than I thought, and its going to get worse before it gets better.  Hopefully it gets better.  Please let it get better Miss Sabrina.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you this one was going to be long folks.  

Tomorrow’s Page Predictions (Ch. 8, Pg. 8)

Tailoring Troubles

I feel I need to acknowledge the elephant in the room here:  Jasper is queer.  This isn’t up for debate.  Sabrina made it very clear that almost everyone in The Glass Scientists is Bi, and she specifically referred to Jasper and Jekyll as queer.  I don’t think its much of a stretch to assume Jasper doesn’t feel great about being measured because of this aspect of him, which he might not be proud of yet and is also scared of what might happen if that part of him is revealed.  Not to jump the gun here, but maybe Jasper calling himself a monster in Chapter 2 wasn’t in reference to him being a werewolf.

“I’m not a real scientist!  I’m not even a real human anymore!  I’m...just a monster.”

“Just” meaning “what’s left for them to be,” and not “what they’ve become.”

However I’m not going to get into specifics as to why Jasper’s identity plays into his fear of tailoring here, because I think that requires us knowing more about how Jasper actually identifies, which at this point in time is still pretty vague.  So instead I’m making a list of all the other reasons why Jasper might not want to meet a tailor.

Tailor might judge him for his usual attire.

Tailor have long snake-like ropes that wrap around you that don’t have cute doggy faces so whatd the point I ask of you.

Tailor might make comments about Jasper’s body like, “oh nice collarbone,” or “you could lose some weight a bit here,” and it might be a nice gesture to ease tensions but don’t

While being measured Jasper is scared breathing will mess with the measurements and consequently almost passes out.

Jasper has a bunch of bites and scratches all over his body due to his creatures (plus the werewolf that bit him) and he thinks its fine and normal but the tailor might faint in horror.

If tailor accidentally pokes him he might jump out of his skin and attach himself to the ceiling.

Jekyll wht r you doin?

While Jekyll is making Jasper uncomfortable at the mention of tailoring he is doing something that would make me uncomfortable in Jasper’s situation.  Don’t just go messing with other peoples clothes, Jekyll!  Especially when its around their neck!  Anyway what he’s doing with that bow?

Option 1 - He’s rearranging the bow to make it even - alright fair, but he should have warned Jasper first!  I feel like a PTA mom ready to call the principal.

Option 2 - He’s removing the bow altogether - F R E E  H I M.  In Sabrina’s blog waaaaaaaaay back when one of the sketches introducing Jasper showed him sitting down looking like he just went through a sauna and is giving the dopiest look.  I feel like releasing him from the bow prison and being able to take a full breadth would give him the same feeling.  Listen we got the Hungry Jasper we will get the Dopey Jasper!

Option 3 - He’s replacing the bow with a bow that might suit him better - No keep it off let Jasper be f r e e.

Option 4 - He just wants to play dress up - I’M CALLING YOUR MOM!!!

Option 5 - Jekyll doesn’t have the chance because Jasper backs away at the thought of tailors - You win this round uneven bow.

---

General Predictions

Before Chapter 8 started I predicted that Jasper would join the Concerned for Jekyll Club.  I was also going to add that if Jasper does try to show concern for Jekyll, Jekyll would hit back that concern and center it toward Jasper.  He wants to help and fuss over Jasper, and NEVER wants that help and fussing over to be geared toward him.  Being fussed over implies he has a problem.  Jekyll doesn’t have a problem, Jasper has the problem!  That’s why he needs to help Jasper, see?  Its important they keep that dynamic, otherwise Jekyll would have to confront his own issues and that’s just not as fun.

And what do you know: Lanyon, who is a professional Jekyll fusser-over, is deeply affected by the nightmates, but Jasper, who’s still preoccupied with his own worries, isn’t.  Hyde said so himself-

“Jasper’s the only person left who isn’t yelling at, gossiping about, or relentlessly fussing over Jekyll.  And that’s a problem.”

Now Hyde’s not mad at Jasper here, because this has nothing to do with Jasper and has to do entirely with Jekyll’s perception of him, which is as a reprieve, or to put in the Broadway show Wicked’s terms, a “new project.”  He’s a opportunity for Jekyll to practice his hobby, like a office worker getting the chance to write a few extra pages in his novel about snails.  And a novel about snails wouldn’t ask its author to take a break now would it?

Jasper’s not targeted by the nightmates because he hasn't done anything yet to change Jekyll’s view of him.  He’s a nice young man who has agreed to be a respectable mad scientist under Jekyll’s wing.  Both parties get something out of this arrangement, and there is no possible way for this to go wrong.  Easy peasy...

So How Does This Go Wrong

For me, there’s three ways for Jasper’s nightmate-free bubble to burst: Jasper confronts Jekyll, Jasper is negatively affected by Jekyll’s attention, or Jekyll is forced to recognize how dependent he is on Jasper’s need for his help.  Here’s how we could get to any of these points-

Jasper Starts to Put the Pieces Together - I still have my money on Jasper being more observant than he lets on, but is easily distracted by outside situations or inner fears.  If Jasper starts to remedy these self fears he might have a moment to register how Jekyll is much more enthusiastic about helping him than he is with, say, helping a sick elderly mad scientist up in the attic.  Or how Jekyll looks at his fellow lodgers and Lanyon versus how he looks at Jasper.  Or how Jekyll doesn’t seem to do have anything else to do on his free time.  Oh he still treats Frankenstein and go to important meetings, but if Jasper asks what Jekyll does on his off-time would Jekyll give him that same blank-eyed stare he gave him in front of his door?  I don’t think he’d be creeped out right away, but he might start to think that Jekyll needs to like, sleep or something...

Lodgers Gossip and/or are also Worried - The Lodgers gossip about Jekyll, that’s pretty clear from Hyde’s comment, which is why they’re affected by the nightmates.  And what’s this?  Jekyll seems to concentrate an awful lot on Jasper.  Why is that?  I think there might be a mix of Lodgers who will gossip about Jasper alongside Jekyll, Lodgers on Team Frankenstein who want to bring Jasper on their side of the playing field or at least out from under Jekyll’s “respectable” thumb, and maybe Lodgers who realize that Jekyll treating Jasper like his personal therapy tool is, like, bad and want to either tell off Jekyll or tell Jasper this isn’t a great situation.  Jasper might not see it as a serious issue, but he might be inclined to start doubting it.

Lanyon Confronts Jekyll on it OR Tell Jasper About Jekyll’s Situation - Hyde’s annoyed at Jekyll being around Jasper basically because Jasper’s NOT doing things that Lanyon would do, which is hilarious given how much Hyde tooootally hates Lanyon.  So wouldn’t it be funny if Lanyon was the one to burst the bubble?  Anyway there’s a likely chance that Lanyon will notice how Jasper seems to be the only Lodger who doesn’t see Jekyll stressed, because he doesn’t realize that he’s the de-stresser.  And if he does than Lanyon will have to first go, “Really Henry, ANOTHER werewolf!?” and then go, “How do I handle this situation in regards to Jekyll’s problems, not to mention finding Hyde?”  He might find issues with their dynamic (n-not that he’d be jealous or anything! b-b-baka!) and tell Jekyll he should probably take a break, or tell Jasper he needs to refuse Jekyll’s help every single time he offers it, because it could hurt Jekyll in the long run.  He could also try to set aside his concerns and use it to his advantage.  Jekyll doesn’t seem to want Lanyon’s company or answer his questions, but maybe if Jasper asked questions Jekyll would be more willing to give answers, even if its not truthful answers.   I do a lot of predictions centered around problems Jekyll, Jasper and Hyde have, along with a little bit of Rachel’s flaws, but I think I might talk more on Lanyon’s faults as well at a later date.

Frankenstein -  Just Frankenstein.  That’s it.  That’s all it takes.  I’ll leave you to imagine how she’d affect the situation.

---

Okay I need to stop here.  I might come back to the topic later because it involves Jasper but for now I think it filled my quota.  I hope you enjoy this while we wait for tomor...this morning’s page.

And since this is a midnight post...

That’s it for this midnight prediction.  Now go to bed!

[visceralcoma]

If Lena became the Inquisitor

What if Lena finds herself stuck in Thedas all the way to the Inquisition era, and despite her efforts some things go as planned. What is a transformed-into-a-dwarf Earthling to do? Well, she’s going to try her damndest to make sure the Breach doesn’t come to pass. 

But much like most of Lena’s plans, that isn’t quite what happens. Below the cut, it’s quite long and I’m not inconsiderate. 

Now on AO3! 

Lena had no need to sneak into the Temple of Sacred Ashes. With her people situated within the guards, they paved the way for her. She'd come to stop this before it could begin. 

Living here for over thirteen years, Thedas was her home and she would not let conniving eggheaded arseholes destroy the world she's helped to cross the threshold into the Industrial era.  Not after everything she’s been through, done, and accomplished. 

Walking through the corridors of the Temple, she greeted her people. Humans, dwarves, Vashoth, and some elves. Her memory was faint and it'd been years since she refreshed her technology. But she still had the videos, the screenshots, and the guidebooks. She'd poured over them trying to find how things had changed, how her presence royally screwed everything up. There was one major thing she changed. The inquisitor. Adaar was now outside of Starkhaven, Cadash was working with Shale and the Carta who had been under Lena’s control since before the Fifth Blight; Lavellan was employed under Athenril and Arianne; the Trevelyans were working with the Vaels to begin construction on Lena’s blueprints for her city. Sebastian had promised to break ground soon. 

Which meant, no one would be sent this way.  She'd messed up too many things. So if the designated potentials weren’t going to be here...she would have to do it herself. Or at least arrive in time to stop it. 

Worse case, at least she knew what she was signing up for. Thankfully Bianca and Dagna were already working on a prototype prosthetic. 

"Now is the hour of our victory." 

Shit. Lena double timed it, gesturing at her last guardsmen down the hall to begin evacuating the Temple. 

"Why are you doing this? You of all people!" 

Unholstered her prepared flintpistol and sawed off shottie Bianca had made to her specifications. The only ones of its kind, despite the attempts from the Qun to get the designs. She didn't wait to hear the call for help but slipped through a side door for the servants. The possessed Grey Wardens shivered, feeling her presence and more importantly the second hand presence of the Titan through her. The Blight in their blood wouldn’t like that at all. 

"Keep the sacrifice st-" 

She was too late to stop him from beginning to access the orb. But she wasn't too late for something else. She made a split second decision.

Lena lifted her flintpistol, prepared for the recoil and shot at his hand. The orb went flying and bounced back. "Hello Sethius."

Corypheus recoiled back, his hand destroyed and snarled at who dared interrupt him and call his truename.  She aimed her shotgun at his head and didn’t hesitate in the second he began to speak. The red lyrium crystals of his head exploded in a searing heat. The Grey Wardens didn't have time to react as she shot each of them in the head so Corypheus could not take over them. The orb however had been activated and rolled forward. The Divine crumpled once their magic was no longer holding her up.  The orb at her feet, sparkling and rumbling the floor. 

"What did you do?!" Justinia asked and Lena watched her stand up. 

"Saved your ass. You need to get out of here." She eyed the orb. It wasn’t fully activated but it was sparking. How long would it take before it blew up? It looked stable enough, for now. "Get out of here!” She shouted at Justinia. “That's going to explode as soon as someone touches it and it will destroy the entire Temple and area."  

"What of you?" 

"The power in the orb needs a host." 

"But you could die." 

"Better me than someone else. Besides..." Lena stared at the orb. “According to my calculations, I’ll only lose an arm.” She smiled, rueful and regretful. “Go. You have ten... maybe twenty minutes. I’ll wait.”  

Justinia left, leaving Lena to stare hard at the orb. She just seriously hoped the egghead wouldn’t come this way. She had ten minutes at minimum. More than enough time then for her next step.  

She eyed the bodies of the wardens. If Corypheus was going to control them, he would be doing so now. Pulling her backpack off, she pulled out bottles upon bottles of splash poison. Special flesh eating poison collected from Dopey. She wasted no more time and doused the bodies in it. Then she covered Corypheus’s in oil, letting it burn for all it was worth. She’d not have a single piece of the Titan of the Temple be exposed to the Blight if she could help it. 

All the while she did this she counted. The orb crackled and yet beyond that she heard footsteps. With the smell of poison, fire and smoke, Lena situated right next to the orb, waiting as the door opened. With both hands hovering near the orb, it shook, the world swayed around her. 

Breath heavy, palms sweaty, she waited as the echoing footsteps grew closer. Thirteen years in Thedas was a long time. Thirteen years living here and changing shit up and yet this moment, this very moment was still going to happen. At least... at least she was going into it knowing what would happen. She wasn’t some blind unrelated person. Lena knew how this story would go. Though right then it was far from the original story, it was still close to the script. 

The door to the chamber opened and Lena smiled as she caught the surprised look of Solas and then absolute horror as both of her hands touched the orb. 

The Titan quivered beneath her feet until the world rumbled. Her eyes alight with the very lyrium that connected her to the Pillars of the Earth.  It should have been an explosion like in the game, like in every iteration. 

It was something worse. It was so much worse because it granted the very things the Evanuris sundered, the very beings Andruil hunted in the void that caused her madness, it granted them access to their realm. And they...were awake and angry. 

Heaven hath no fury like Earth scorned. 

[mwolf0epsilon]

Can you write a short dark fic for the pairing Joey x Henry, where after Henry threatens to leave the studio, Joey snaps and kidnaps Henry and turns Henry into a perfect Boris or Bendy so that Henry would never leave his side, please?

Summary: Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obcession.

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[[MORE]]

When brought into the world children were never inherently cruel. They were curious and blunt, which often resulted in uncomfortable situations for those they interacted with, but overall younglings were empathetic at heart until reshaped and redefined into something otherwise.

The world was a terrible influence after all, and it could marr even the purest of things.

There were exceptions to this rule however…

Joey Drew had certainly been a curious kid. Unabashedly blunt too, with how often his innocent words cut deep into both his parents and peers.

But not once did he empathise enough with others to be considered a kind child.

If anything, most others his age had steered clear from his company, finding the mellow kid with the great big toothy smile to be unsettling on an instinctive level. Children were, after all, capable of sensing evil. Even in its stages of infancy.

So imagine everyone's surprise (Joey's included) when Henry Stein decided to befriend the town's most infamous little black sheep.

Kind bleeding heart that he was, Henry had thought it unfair that others would judge another as strongly as they judged Joey, so he'd taken it upon himself to make the kid next door's life a little less lonesome.

Give him what he surely needed: A good and caring friend.

Needless to say, he regretted that decision more than anything in the world...

It hadn't always been so bad. Once Joey had actually been a friend to him, and cared enough to look after Henry when he'd most needed.

Now however? Now Henry could barely recognize the monster behind that unnerving grin...

The burning selfish desires in those sapphire blues, hidden behind an half-lidded expression that was reserved to feign a serene and caring persona…

As charming and handsome as Joey looked (because he'd always been unnaturally pretty, even when going through the awkward stages of puberty), Henry couldn't help find his apathetic and selfish nature abominably hideous.

Especially now as he brought him the results of yet another failed experiment.

"I'm getting closer dear friend." He held the snapping, snarling little beast at arm's length, this failed mockery of Edgar barely looking like the adorable cartoon spider he was meant to be. "Soon I'll be able to make you perfect, and then we'll be back together as the dynamic duo we always were..."

Henry shuddered at the thought, tightly curling in on himself as he watched Joey end the poor creature's miserable existence. His bowl where his meals were served clattering loudly, as the inky heart of the slain critter was tossed onto it with precision. A mimicry of flesh thumping against the metal with a wet splat.

He fought back the urge to cry as he felt his mouth water.

"Eat up my loyal wolf… We can't be wasteful." Joey's cruel smile almost ruined his appetite. Almost. "Don't worry, this wasn't anyone you knew…"

With that said, Joey left him to greedily consume the offering.

Looking in the bowl's reflective surface once he'd licked it clean, Henry found that he could barely recognize himself anymore.

His stretched out face progressively becoming less and less humanoid as he was fed the experimental failures of Joey's horrid machine, and his pale hair having long since turned black and begun to spread.

He looked like what one would envision Boris the Wolf to look like in some lovecraftian fever dream. Dressed in ill-fitting ripped clothing, and barely able to balance a pair of cracked glasses on the bridge of his elongated nose.

An inhuman beast that fed off of the misfortune of others, losing his humanity as time passed on by.

He wondered if he'd forget himself eventually. If he'd forget that the devil in disguise that was Joey Drew was to blame for his malformations.

If one day he'd actually grow to love his captor in the same manner that Stolkholm syndrome victims tended to do, once brainwashed into submission by their abusers?

Another shudder forced a garbled whimper out of his deformed face.

To whatever god that could hear his broken pleas, he sure hoped not.

Henry didn't want to give Joey what he wanted.

Not when that monster of a man had taken him away from his family to keep as some sort of freak show pet.

Playing some sick version of house with the "puppy" he sustained on a cannibalistic diet. Disgusting.

Curling up, Henry cried himself to sleep. Thinking of his wife and children.

Missing them terribly while locked up in the bowels of Joey's demented studio.

-

The Ink Demon wasn't bad company, Henry had found. It seemed to understand his pain on a level no other creature did, offering him what little compassion it could whenever Joey dropped by with more "food".

It feared and loathed that devil of a man just as much as Henry did, and it knew to be kind despite never once being treated with the same sort of respect.

The one positive of this odd kinship between the two, was that Joey seemed pleased by them forming the sort of bond Bendy and Boris had. Thus never getting in between their interactions.

"One day soon, it'll all be just as I envisioned." He'd purr as he pinned the bound inky wolf to the ground, touching Henry in a way that made him want to gag, and rip the rat bastard's throat out with his horrific set of doggish teeth. "Just a little more and you'll be perfect."

He didn't want to be perfect.

All Henry wanted was to kill Joey Drew and go home.

"But first, I have a surprise for you." A surprise that came right after this twisted display of "affection". This gross invasion of the abominable wolf's personal bubble.

Joey presented him with an absolutely Perfect Boris.

Overalls, pie cut eyes, soft velvety fuzz and all… no signs of dripping or asymmetrical proportions.

The terror in those eyes however… it was all too human.

"I told you I'd find a way to reach perfection. Once I've finished tweaking the process you'll be just as perfect as him… Maybe more." Joey purred. "I miss your voice after all, dearest friend. Until then I give you this fearful pup to do with as you wish."

Upon his tormentor's departure, the cartoon wolf scrambled away from Henry. Shaking like a leaf and whining pitifully.

A child, Joey had converted a child…

Hell hath no fury like the righteous rage of a scorned father.

That bastard would pay for all he'd done!

But first, the large and deformed beast that was Henry Stein carefully scooted over to the shaking Boris clone and comforted him as best he could.

He'd protect this poor pup, no matter what.

The Ink Demon seemed to be in favour of extending that same grace, although it did still go for the kill when the less than agreeable ink monsters came around looking for trouble.

-

Buddy's transformation had certainly enraged him when Joey presented the poor boy to him. Sammy's and Norman's fates however were the last straw to break the camel's back.

Most of the people that worked at the studio were strangers to Henry, but the young musician and the oddball projectionist had been friends to him.

With every stranger's heart he consumed, the large beast of a wolf grew more and more restless. The revulsion he felt when looking upon Joey growing into an all consuming desire to violently murder his captor.

When a faceless ink creature wearing only suspenders and a Bendy mask came in one day to bring him his meal however…

"My lord wishes me to feed you, oh Great Lupine... Abyssal Hunger of the Ink's Abyss…" The body shape wasn't one he recognized. The slight arch to the creature's legs a bit strange to look at, and the four fingered hands an indication that something strange had definitely come to pass in this poor madman's transition into his current state. But that voice…

"Shhh...Shhaaammiieeee…?" His voice had returned as a dissonant mess, one that was not fit for a gross mockery of a muzzle like his own.

"Is… Is that my name, oh Hungry One?" There was both fear and hope in his voice. That in itself made something twinge painfully in Henry's chest. "I… Yes, yes that is my name isn't it? Sammy… I… oh thank you kindly, Benevolent Wolf. Please, feast upon your meal. I have worked hard to acquire it in the name of our Lord, your most wonderous companion."

What had Joey done to Sammy Lawrence, the proud music director that had more than half the mind this mindless drone had? Good heavens, what had he done that completely broke the poor kid?!

Rather than voice his horror, Henry did as he was told. After all the more he ate, the more his gluttonous appetite grew… as did this horrid body he was stuck with.

Abyssal hunger indeed…

He forgot what shame tasted like, but not mercy.

As selfish as it may be, he did request one thing.

"It is as you wish, oh Hungry One… I shall protect all pups that enter my lair." The Prophet bowed once, twice and then trice as he took Buddy by the hand. "Another horror skulks in the darkness, wearing an Angel's face. She hunts wolves, for fun. I shall show them your mercy."

He trusted that Sammy would keep his word. He was as stubborn as they could get, after all, and did not back off from a challenge very easily.

Henry would miss Buddy's company though.

That particular encounter was bad on a moral level, but it did turn out alright in the end. When the Projectionist was presented to him as a play thing however, Henry had begun to crack. No one deserves such a horrible fate as to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Norman had once carried a world of unimaginable knowledge on his back.

Now he only had the painful weight of a projector on his neck, and the volatile temper of a mindless beast.

The deformed wolf had done his best to gain the creature's trust, but it feared being attacked far too much to let a nearly 20 foot inky monstrosity near itself.

Self preservation hadn't completely left the Projectionist it seemed.

He'd let it go, hoping doing so would be a sign of good will on its own.

And then when he'd been once again left alone, Henry continued to stew in his anger. Talked himself into showing a rarer more violent side on Joey's next visit.

Even tried to fight back against him the next when he tried to touch him.

This was a losing battle however… After all, Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obsessions.

Henry Stein just so happened to be his biggest obsession. Even as this horrifically imperfect monster that only an equally horrific demon could ever hope to understand.