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mickeys-malarkey · 1 year

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BATDR Analysis/Post-Playthrough Theory Revision Pt. 2/4!

Fair Warning: Lots of spoilers and some pretty gruesome topics ahead (this game definitely lived up to the “scarier than BATIM” promise, wow)!

The unexpected key to understanding how the stories of BATDR, TLO, TIOL, and even DCTL intertwine: “The Mug and the Maiden: Vol. 1 by Sir Wilton Moore”

(This is my absolute favorite part, it made Wilson one of my favorite characters in the entire series~! 💕)

Let's just get this outta the way, “Wilton” is literally only one letter away from “Wilson,” this thing was definitely written by some version of him. Now, I'm sure most people skipped over this thing like my brother did, it's very long and seems borderline nonsensical at first. But I think it's much more important than it seems on the surface; not just comedic relief to break up your horror adventure or meaningless flavor text to fill out the world, but in fact a “twisted riddle that reveals more than meets the eye,” as Wilson's character bio says. Here's some screenshots, if you wanna read the story in full (described in alt text like everything else, if you can't make it out):

When I first read this, it struck me (when I wasn't busting a gut laughing) that several descriptions sounded very similar to characters in the Bendy games and books (and that there's a lot of returning repeated themes, like people going by two different names). The mouse who went to find cheese in the governor's basement, got crushed by the false wall, and eventually only briefly had the fact his wife worried when he didn't come home mentioned (also who apparently decayed much faster than he should've, his body practically reduced to nothing by sundown) sounded like Brant from TLO following Bill and Constance into the factory's secret moonshine basement hoping to get a scoop, getting crushed by the secret door, and eventually only briefly having Bill wonder if he had anyone who would miss and go looking for him (also who freaking turned into an ink bubble and popped moments after passing out from the pain so that the only remnants of his body were ink splatters). The cheese store man with big eyes and ears and belts of cheese around him sounded like Norman (I mean, besides how the man has a hobby of eavesdropping on and watching everyone from the shadows, just look at his ink form: The Projectionist). The ugly lizard man in the blue cloak with the distracting eyebrow hair sounded like Joey Drew in his blue bathrobe who many complained in BATIM was designed/animated too uncannily so that they found his face distracting. Riktor the Cracked sounded like Wilson with his scar (speaking of which, I'm not at all convinced that he's who Boswell Lotsabucks really represented. I'll explain more as we go)…

In fact, it occurred to me that Riktor's entire story sounded similar to the story Wilson tells about himself, both directly and through context clues (no, I'm not gonna bother with writing out sound effects/tones for this guy; that would add so much extra text that this would be incomprehensible. Just assume that the whole time he's talking he's wheezing like it's physically laborious for him to breathe and he has a Resting Villain Tone™).

“It seems that Arch Gate Studios, in all its misplaced admiration, was so eager to absorb the life's work of that crooked charlatan, Joey Drew, they didn't fully realize what they had acquired. Call it fate that I just happened to be there on the loading dock that morning. When the delivery boys dropped one of the crates, it smashed open, and inside there was something truly special. A mass of yellow steel and beautiful rivets. Some kind of machine. No one knew what it was. So the fools put it on display for all to see. But I could tell that this crude device held secrets. Secrets that could be mine.” ~ Wilson Arch, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “The Machine” audio log (emphasis added)

(I'll come back to the red part later.)

“When I first entered this world, it was an untamed wilderness. A wretched, crawling slum, ruled by that grinning demon. From chaos, I brought order. From order, I brought peace. Once you cut the head from the snake, the snake bleeds out quietly onto the ground. Now the only question that remains is: ‘What if the head grows back?’” ~ Wilson Arch, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “The Snake” audio log

“The machine speaks to me revealing its many possibilities. What I can accomplish using its power is beyond any measure. Life and death can become a thing of the past. Poverty and hunger, a distant memory. I can remake the world anew. But does the world deserve such a gift? For now, I have bigger matters at hand. A man in a black coat came asking at the front desk about the machine. Said he was from the Gent Corporation. Fortunately, the receptionist knew nothing and he left quietly. Later, I found his name on the sign-in form. Mister Allen Gray.” ~ Wilson Arch, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “A Gift To Mankind” audio log (emphasis added)

(I'll come back to the green part later, too.)

“It's been years and my face is still a mystery to my co-workers. They don't know me. They avoid me as if I carried some infectious disease. At first, I felt this was an insult. But now… it is a gift. With the right costume, I can play the part of anyone. I can go completely unnoticed, hidden amongst the shadowed walls. As a clerk, an artist, a producer. Or even… a lowly janitor.” ~ Wilson Arch, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “In Plain Sight” audio log

Wilson: You must be very tired. A quick rest will do you good. Betty will show you to your room. She's my housekeeper, among other things. . . . Audrey: And… do you trust Wilson? Betty: This is the realm of the Ink Demon. His shadow hangs over us all. I don't trust anyone. But Wilson takes care of me. Keeps me safe. He once said I remind him of something he called his… “mother?” Tell me, is that a good thing… where you two are from? Audrey: I'm not sure. I don't think I ever had one. Betty: Well, no matter. Now, I was told to make sure you get some sleep once you got here. So get nice and comfy and relax. I left something for you on the table that might just help you nod off. It's my own recipe. Works very fast. Just follow the instructions. Carefully.

Riktor was a “distant descendant” of one of the Three Grand Flagon Kings whose ancient exploits were legendary, though which one he comes from he isn't sure. I think this 100% confirms that while Nathan Sr. was never officially involved in JDS, he was always pulling strings behind the curtain, cause that brings the count to Three Kings of JDS. We, the audience don't know which of the studio's three original “rulers” (as Audrey calls herself at the end of the game) Wilson is the apparently-estranged son of – Henry Stein, Joey Drew, or Nathan Arch Sr. – until right before he dies (I know when Audrey was confirmed Joey's daughter, he first said he wanted to save his father's life, and I hadn't yet questioned if “Fake Henry” was actually fake or not, I wondered if maybe he was Henry's son), but there's definitely a reason he told Audrey, “shh, don't fret. We're going home,” when he sacrificed both her and himself to the Ink Machine: they were going home, to the place their fathers ruled over so very long ago!

(Anyone notice that they literally call the Ink Dimension a “kingdom” right there in the game's description??)

Riktor is called “the Cracked” even though everyone can see that he isn't cracked at the time the narrator is telling us this, and the narrator basically calls us stupid for wondering why the heck that is; we find out he gets the crack from being used to shatter a lizard man's face (which must've gotten better seeing as he was seen again the next week) at the end of this story that begins with the deaths of two major characters. Sure sounds like Wilson being called “the Man Who Killed the Ink Demon” even though half the Lost Ones we run into say “he says he killed the Ink Demon, but I saw him” and we frequently get chased by him ourselves, and how he basically calls anyone who questions this filthy slanderers; we find out that he's been trying his darndest (describing his previous attempts at doing so as cutting off a serpent's head that winds up growing back) and the reason he sacrificed himself and Audrey to the Ink Machine at the beginning of the game was because he needed her for his big plan to finally kill Bendy for real.

Riktor was the second son of his parents; the first was apparently more well-known because the narrator says there's probably no need to tell us his name, and apparently nobody liked him. Sure sounds like how everyone just already knows that Nathan Arch Sr. must have a son named “Nathan Arch Jr.” since he's called “Senior,” and Exhibit A for Boswell Lotsabucks not being Wilson: we just got confirmation he's Nathan Jr.'s younger brother! Also, I can smell the intense sibling jealousy, roflol. Either that, or… did Nathan Sr. also dislike his Favorite Son™, but like him enough to make Wilson jealous?? I mean, he does only ever mention having one son throughout the whole series and, as @dreamfisher-nux pointed out, says that son is as important to him as Bendy was to Joey, but he actually rarely ever speaks of even him and, unless that “Nathan Arch” portrait in Archgate's animation department is actually a replacement one of Junior (or perhaps even Nathan III, either of which would support my “Nathan Sr./Nathan I is actually dead from old age, at this point, the reason the JDS museum is bankrupt is because his [grand]son is nowhere near as ruthless a businessman as his [grand]dad, and Nathan Sr./Nathan I's soul is the ‘new evil’ in the Ink Dimension” theory), then we don't even see his face where we see Nathan Sr. and Joey's; he claims Junior's the one who gave him the idea for a studio/etc., it doesn't make sense not to memorialize him in any way, shape, or form.

(Sidenote: we also get a year of birth for Wilson, here. Twenty years before Mr. Darble Mouse/Brant “died;” he was born in 1926, so he's only 47 in BATDR… The stress of being Nathan Sr.'s son really did a number on ya, huh, bud?)

Riktor was “accidentally” put under a sleeping curse by a seemingly kind witch who at first offers him cake, then when he's still convinced she's evil instead offers a scone, which he does accept. She seems confused when Riktor falls asleep after eating it, then just finishes her cake and walks away to get a civil service job like she doesn't care; when he fulfills fate's purpose by getting cracked and wakes up, she just nods from her faraway office like she knew what was gonna happen all along. This witch sure sounds similar to Betty, the seemingly kind doll-like housekeeper who “accidentally” winds up sending us on a convoluted and pointless scavenger hunt for the final sleeping draught ingredient that honestly felt like some sort of test to see what we'd be willing to do if we thought we were supposed to with the way she just happened to catch us right before we went through with killing the fish we already sent into shock with the suspiciously convenient piano… and when we finally do take the sleeping tonic we're captured by Twisted Alice— Wilson, buddy, pal, friend, did your dad have your mom put you through some sort of obedience test, at the end of which she drugged you with some kind of sedative, and that was the reason you happened to be on the loading dock when the crate broke (Betty, honey, I… don't think it was a compliment)…??? Also, wait— why did you make an ink creature who reminds you of your mother the housekeeper? And... oh gross, was my initial assumption as to the meaning of “among other things” correct—?? Wilson, are you not the son of Tessa Arch but Nathan Sr.'s illegitimate son from an affair he had with the housekeeper (a bit Soap Opera™, but… it happens)?!?! Is that why he hated you (also, clearly Nathan Sr. did not learn his lesson, seeing as he was looking for girls to dance with at the Sparkle Unicorn a year after Wilson was born… Tessa, honey, you need a better husband. Blink twice if you need help escaping your current one)?! Nathan, dude, it's your own dang fault if you can't keep it in your pants!! Don't take it out on your kid, ya @$$hole!!!

Riktor sits unsold on the cheese shop man's shelf for years. Sure sounds like how Wilson goes unnoticed by all his coworkers in his dad's studio (or wherever the heck he was working when he recorded that audio log) for years.

Riktor became a “hero” not through his own actions, but by “accident,” just happening to be in the widow's sack when she swung it at the ugly lizard man. Sure sounds like how Wilson just happened to be there when the crate containing the Ink Machine was “accidentally” dropped and broken, setting him on his seemingly noble mission.

Riktor goes off to fight another great Evil that awakened at the stench of death, his adventures not over yet. Sounds like Wilson setting his sights on Gent CEO Alan/Allen Gray/Grey (he spells it all the ways in different audio logs/memos), who's apparently been trying to get the Ink Machine since JDS was still around (I dunno if I believe that, except by a very specific technicality, which I'll explain later) and isn't happy Archgate has it now that Joey's dead, hm…?

My most important epiphany about this story, though, came while I was complaining to my bestie how creepy and nonsensical it was that the “who's the real villain?” attention seemed to be being pulled in even more directions than before, now, and even less attention was being paid to Nathan Sr., his audio logs making him out to be a genuinely friendly and grief-stricken man who didn't know what was going on with the ink machine and was creeped out by its apparent influence… Why the absolute heck was so little attention being paid to the man within whose animation studio/museum two of our main characters – one of them his own son – perished at the beginning of this game and so many of whose previous statements absolutely do not line up with what he's saying now?? Then, I noticed the weirdly specific discrepancies in The Mug and the Maiden, and I realized…

“I just received the call. Joey Drew is dead. What a quiet end to an extraordinary life. Last I heard he was staying in some cramped apartment downtown. You could practically hear the rats through the telephone when he called me last April. In spite of that, old Joey sounded quite happy when last we spoke. More like the excited, hopeful young man I knew once upon a time. Ah, well, farewell my friend. What will become of your creations now?” ~ Nathan Arch Sr., Bendy and the Dark Revival, “End of an Era” audio log

“I'm ready for something different in my career. I've built steel companies from the ground up, dabbled in petroleum, even tried political office once. ‘That Nathan Arch,’ they used to say, ‘He's got the magic touch!’ But I'm hungry for a bit of fun, I think. Something both the masses and I can enjoy. My son suggested movies. Open a studio! Now I love a good film as much as anyone, but the magic of animation, now there's something special! My old friend Joey knew the thrills of bringing characters to life, rest his soul. Maybe with a bit of elbow grease and a small cash investment, I can resurrect the past.” ~ Nathan Arch Sr., Bendy and the Dark Revival, “Inspiration” audio log

“The papers are signed! The animation staff is hired! Arch Gate Pictures is open for business! As of nine o'clock this morning, Bendy and all his little cartoon friends now belong to me. I'll admit, it's strange owning a dear friend's legacy. But I think Joey would be content knowing it's safely in my hands. ‘You just gotta believe,’ he used to say. He was such a showman. Well, I believe Joey. I wholeheartedly believe!” ~ Nathan Arch Sr., Bendy and the Dark Revival, “Grand Opening” audio log

“I haven't had much sleep the past few nights. I usually can separate myself from the office when I get home. But lately, I've been feeling something pulling at my mind. My thoughts fall to the Joey Drew exhibit we opened last week. Outside one or two of the artists, I don't think I've ever seen a single soul go inside. It's a shame how so many of us refuse to learn from the past. The past can give us our greatest lessons. But still, ever since we moved in Joey's old things, there's been a strange feeling around Arch Gate. Like the ghosts of long ago are wandering about. Calling out to me.” ~ Nathan Arch Sr., Bendy and the Dark Revival, “The Exhibit” audio log

…the widow symbolizes Nathan Arch Sr., and there are actually two characters that symbolize Joey— the ugly lizard man, yes, but also the widow's dead husband. We already examined, in small part, how similar her interactions with Riktor's story were to Archgate's interactions with Wilson's; let's get more in-depth examining her story, now.

The widow was already planning on adding her cheddar cider idea onto her preexisting business before her husband died, she was just using distraction from her grief over him as an excuse to kick her plans into gear. Sure sounds like how Nathan Sr. admitted to working on his museum for years before when we find out Joey apparently died, back in TIOL, but then he turns around and tries to gaslight us into thinking that this is a new idea he just had shortly after Joey's death to try and spice up his life while also preserving his beloved friend's memory in BATDR (and, by extension, that TIOL is no longer canon), doesn't it? Also, wow, the repeated theme of alcohol returns, once again. 👀

The widow just goes from grief-stricken, to making herself skip mourning her husband to move on with her life, to suddenly crying about her situation in front of the cheese store man with the big eyes and ears so he'll give her what she wants (including things that don't match what she originally said—? Swiss? You were supposed to be getting cheddar?? And how are you picking up things like some random cat, a personalized pen, and the cheese store man's cash box “on accident???”). Sounds an awful lot like how Nathan Sr. just goes from “oh no! Joey's dead!” to “oh well, wonder what'll become of the Bendy IP” and then kicks his aforementioned plans into gear (and how he, for some reason, grabs that random painting of Joey's I was confused about and keeps this machine which also makes no sense for him to keep if he doesn't know what it does— it could be completely unrelated to Joey as the engine out of some truck or boat that a previous tenant left behind, for all he knows), hm? I realized the cheese store man doesn't symbolize Norman, he uses Norman's image to symbolize all observers of Nathan Sr., Joey, and the situations surrounding them. 👀 Both Nathan Sr. and the widow are putting on a performance of grief to manipulate observers (this also feels like more gaslighting us into thinking TIOL is no longer canon)!

The widow is the best-looking creature in the kingdom, who all the men desire now that she's single, but that seems implied to only be because nobody knows about the beautiful deer woman who lives over the hill. I wonder if it's not an accident that nobody knows about the deer woman, cause that sure sounds like how Nathan Sr. makes himself out to be the most innocent, kind, and intelligent character in the whole series, especially after not only erasing the evidence of multiple people's existences but also writing a whole smear note against Henry in TIOL that seemed to successfully gaslight a lot of fans into believing that Henry might be the real villain. 👀

The widow gets angry when the ugly lizard man tells her he's reformed, saying right after previously saying that she has to go because she has no time and he eats people that it's boring if he's not gonna be the danger in the story which means she came all the way there for nothing (wait, I thought you supposedly came to the forest by accident because nobody in this place can read) and now that's why she should just leave, causing him to panic and beg her to stay while claiming that actually he's not reformed he was just putting on an act to manipulate her. Sure sounds an awful lot like all of Nathan Sr.'s manipulative self-contradiction (e.g. saying he wants to dispel the negative rumors about Joey and then turning around and saying things about him that he really shouldn't be saying if that were his goal) and how I pointed out in my original analysis/theory that he seems to get off on not just turning people into Murder Puppets but also seeing how absolutely brutal he can make them while still having them believe they're in the right and was not happy when one of his favorites' (Joey) conscience grew loud towards the end of his life, doesn't it? Is… this saying Nathan Sr. did something to make Joey play the villain again, after he was reformed…? Might this even be saying that it was under Nathan Sr.'s manipulation that Joey claimed responsibility for a lot of things that he didn't actually do…? 👀

*Stares at the ending of DCTL when Joey claimed that A: Sammy was nabbing random people who stayed at JDS too late at night under his orders when it was clearly implied to be because of his own hallucinations, and B: Buddy had been hired specifically for the purpose of sacrificing “a real person,” meaning someone who hadn't had their soul leeched out by the ink; which doesn't make sense because, for one thing, that should mean they'd already be in the Inkwell without having to die like in TLO, and for another, it's implied Buddy was hired before Bendy (the first ink creature, apparently soulless because Joey's soul failed to merge with him for some reason, seeing as it's heavily implied that Mr. Unger can tell that Joey's hand perfectly matches Bendy's handprint) was even created – heck, before the Ink Machine was even working, seeing as Buddy witnessed Tom bringing Joey blueprints – with Twisted Alice (the second ink creature, who definitely has a soul) being implied to have also been created by the time he dies, so he can't have been hired for that specific purpose*

The widow acts surprised that something in her sack of cheese smashed the ugly lizard man's face, despite swinging it at him like she fully expected doing so to save her. Sure sounds like how Nathan Sr. acts confused and creeped out by the strange energy contained within the museum exhibits in BATDR despite keeping this junker-looking machine as if he knew full well it was related to JDS and having made very ominous comments in TIOL about how he now understands all of Joey's unhinged musings which should also mean he definitely knows what it does, successfully gaslighting most players into thinking that he didn't take the Ink Machine for nefarious purposes (and, by extension, that TIOL is no longer canon), doesn't it? Not to mention his company's “accidentally” setting Wilson on his seemingly noble mission… 👀

Riktor winds up having a lovely friendship with the widow once he “saves her life.” Wilson wanted his dad's attention and approval (what child wouldn't want that from their parent? Poor baby /gen 🥺), but seems to know at this point that the best he's gonna get is showing him he succeeded at life despite what he thought of and how he treated him (or possibly… that he can be a useful puppet too); he tries to trick Audrey into giving him her soul with the lie that they'd be saving his dad's life with his big plans and doesn't even get the extremely messed up “good enough” ending because he gets freaking shredded in his own soul extraction machine (I was not expecting— there were pieces of him on the floor, my gosh 😰).

Now… I want to get into the widow's dead husband symbolizing Joey in addition to the ugly lizard man a little more. I still think I was right about Freaky Teeth Bendy's link to grayscale being a hint that he's Joey, but now I think there's more context around that. In my original analysis/theory, I mused about how it seemed like Nathan Sr. was trying to create a very specific image of Joey in the public consciousness with his notes in TIOL (a simultaneous A: genius and saint whose inventions should be accepted with open arms, and B: perfect scapegoat to take all blame in case we don't… *Stares long and hard at the fandom's reactions to the Memory of Joey*). I also mused on how several characters seemed to have become personifications of different parts of Joey's psyche once inked, but right now I want to make special note of the fact that Susie Campbell/Twisted Alice's story seems to parallel Joseph Dempsey/Joey Drew's in many ways.

I think that the dead husband symbolizes the Memory of Joey, who in turn is the image of Joey that Nathan Sr. has ingrained not only into official real-world history, but also into the memories of everyone trapped in the Ink Dimension. Did anyone notice that… the Memory of Joey literally introduces himself with the intro of the BATIM audio log I think directly addresses that Joey hated being who Nathan forced him to be (“I believe there’s something special in all of us…” Nathan Sr.'s just outright flaunting that this is his version of Joey straight out of the gate)? What about how the nasty mouth-spider monsters we fall into a nest of right before meeting the Memory of Joey for the first time… those were called “Widows…” and the boss one was called “King Widow…??” Or how the followers of Amok, who decorated everything including themselves with Widow motifs, had a whole thing about “passing on the name” when the previous holder dies…??? 👀👀

“Within our isolated walls, Lord Amok reigns. The drips and drops of the leaking world above cannot stop his rule. Those who oppose Amok's hand, have their bodies crushed and fed into the narrow pipes that lead below into forgotten sewers under our feet. Those tunnels are even deeper, even darker, than this one. There is only suffering down there. But, should anyone defeat Lord Amok, cast him down, our small kingdom will belong to the conqueror. This is the secret of Amok's immortality. Pass on the throne, pass on the name.” ~ Unknown, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “Next in Line” memo (emphasis added)

(Holy monkeys does the first red part reek of Nathan Sr.'s disappearing people mafia-style, as well… 👀)

The husband “didn't do much. Until he died…” Does that sound like Figurehead Joey having his image hijacked by his “good friend” Nathan Sr. postmortem to A: create a much more successful business in the real world than he did in his lifetime as a human, and B: meddle much more personally in Ink Dimension affairs, to anybody else…? 👀👀👀

The ugly lizard man, on the other hand, symbolizes Bendy and his Dapper and Freaky Teeth sides, who in turn are the Joseph Dempsey and Joey Drew sides of the real Joey. At the point in his life that Audrey knew him: the healing heart of the reformed old man who tried his best to be a good friend and uncle/father vs. the habitual remnants of the “become a manipulative abuser” survival mechanism brought on by Nathan Sr.'s manipulation and abuse. I'm especially convinced of this after listening to the experiment logs detailing how inhumanely the Keepers treated both Freaky Teeth and Dapper Bendy in their attempts to help Wilson vanquish the Ink Demon…

“Experiment thirteen: The Ink Demon is successfully sedated for transport. Laboratory 9 is prepared for arrival at the receiving bay. Be advised that sedation will not last long. Termination must commence immediately upon reception. Wilson will expect a detailed report of the creature's demise.” ~ A Keeper, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “Experiment 13” audio log (emphasis added)

“Experiment twenty six: Frequent delays due to the Ink Demon's refusal to terminate. Keepers have administered quarter hourly sessions of physical tortures and surgical invasions to wear down his powers. All of these efforts have been ultimately unsuccessful. A new method of control must be devised. Termination impossible.” ~ A Keeper, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “Experiment 26” audio log (emphasis added)

“Experiment forty four: We have successfully pressed the Ink Demon into the form designated as Bendy. He is smaller in size and harmless in this more timid state. His powers are also greatly reduced. Using lengths of steel wire to cut into the side of his body, he now registers emotional responses. There were tears of ink documented. Screams of pain. It was delightful to see such progress. The Ink Demon will remain in this small form indefinitely.” ~ A Keeper, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “Experiment 44” audio log (emphasis added)

…and the way Wilson said, “to truly destroy such a monster, he must be dethroned. Humiliated…” How the actual heck do you humiliate a soulless ink blob and why would that help you defeat him? That line just doesn't make sense, unless… Well, I'll just say that all sounds uncomfortably similar to some of the things I talked about suspecting Nathan Sr. did to Joey (loving to belittle him and watch him suffer, especially in front of large groups of people?? Having him kidnapped and tortured for failing/disobeying too many times, his mobility problems being caused by injuries he sustained during that time??? Etc????) in my original analysis/theory, based on things said in the books and BATDR archive images. Which… doesn't make me feel good about the ending of The Mug and the Maiden…

“…But for now, dear reader, we return to our own lives. So let us end this tale with one closing thought, shall we? Be we cracked, or small, or even dead, there's always a purpose to where we all are led. Be brave, and strong, and lest we forget: Fate isn't quite done with any of us just yet. The End” ~ The Mug and the Maiden: Vol 1 by Sir Wilton Moore, Bendy and the Dark Revival, ch. 5 (emphasis added)

“They promise us peace. But they bring us only more pain!” ~ The Ink Demon, Bendy and the Dark Revival, ch. 5

I think “fate” is symbolic of Nathan Sr.'s machinations, I was right to describe Joey as being “a very-long-term abuse victim who can't even escape his abuser postmortem” in my thought summaries… and this actually might still fit my “the perfection vs. imperfection of the ink creatures comes from the intactness vs. brokenness of their hearts, not the purity” theory, if we include healed/healing hearts like I said Dapper Bendy represents. Anyone notice that Dapper only seemed to turn back into Freaky Teeth after betrayal? When Audrey tells him, “it's okay. I won't hurt you. I promise. It's okay. See? I'm your friend. I won't hurt you,” only to accidentally hurt him with her powers? When she talked to the Memory of Joey in what I suspect was actually Dapper Bendy's hideout, not his (Dapper was just down the hall on both sides of it… the Memory of Joey might've literally just been camping the doors to keep Dapper out and catch Audrey)? When she promises him that they'll stay together and she won't let anything happen to him, then disappears for way too long talking to the Memory of Joey yet again before walking right up to the front door of the laboratory that tortured him alone because he's disappeared presumably in heartbroken fright?? Coming to kill Shipahoy Wilson after it freaking ripped her legs off (and had Wilson's soul banished from it, which – alongside the very fact that Shipahoy Wilson was capable of not just physically existing, but also being alive without his soul in it just like Bendy before Joey's human death and unlike, from what I can tell, literally every single other ink creature, which I'll come back to – tells me that his soul may have been powerful enough to defeat him just like Audrey's, but I'll come back to that, as well) and then save her when she's bleeding out on the cold laboratory floor??? Freaky Teeth literally even calls Audrey a traitor when she chooses to play the End Reel partly to resurrect the Memory of Joey in the end.

“It's time, Audrey. Your road is broken. Join the Dark Puddles and give in to your suffering. You have nothing. You are without purpose. Your very existence was a terrible lie. You're a mistake. A monster. Like me. But I will make you strong. I will make you meaningful. It's time… *Offers his hand, which Audrey accepts* We are one. The daughter of Drew. The power of the Demon.” ~ The Ink Demon, Bendy and the Dark Revival, ch. 5

“…The only important question is this: Who are we, Henry? I thought I knew who I was… but… the success starved me. Nothing left but lines on a page. In the end, we followed two different roads of our own making. You, a lovely family… Me… a crooked empire. And my road burned. I let our creations become my life…” ~ Joey Drew, Bendy and the Ink Machine, ch. 5

Sounds to me like what might've felt like freedom to Joey/Bendy (and Nathan Sr. certainly wanted him to think was freedom) – becoming a monster – was not actually freedom (*stares at my notes on Constance and Susie/Alice's personification of parts of Joey's psyche, particularly how they're both conflicted between feeling bad about doing/being forced to do bad things and doing them because it makes them feel so powerful/in control/etc., and then at how Dapper Bendy admitted he doesn't want to hurt Audrey like Freaky Teeth does* …It was odd how Audrey worded her apology, wasn't it? “I didn't mean to hurt you… and I really don't think you want to hurt me either, right?” It's almost like… she already knew that both Bendys were the same being…), like the kinds of circumstances under which I noted that Joey's “cruel prank” survival mechanism kicks in were when Audrey saw her dad's ugly side, and like Freaky Teeth merging with her in that moment was symbolic of her leaning on her dad's maladaptive coping mechanisms generational trauma-style.

“I reached up and pushed [Mister Drew] away, hard. Harder than I'd ever pushed anyone away before, and he fell back against the wooden stage with a crash. I felt strangely powerful. I also wasn't in any pain anymore. I stood up. I marched over to him. It was my turn to stand over him. He cowered. He actually cowered in fright. I felt really good about that. ‘What did you do to me?’ I asked. ‘Now, Buddy,’ he said, holding up a hand, ‘don't be angry. Just remember I saved your life.’ ‘What did you do?’ I took a step closer, placed my hands on my hips. I enjoyed that my shadow loomed over him like this, filling his small world with darkness. ‘You're angry. You're frustrated. You can't express yourself, I understand, but don't you see that I fixed you? And now you're, you're—perfect!’ . . . He was talking to me like I was stupid. Like I was him, the happy wolf who shares my mind. I know he was excited about it then. I could feel him pulling me, wanting me to go to Mister Drew. But at this moment, back then, I was much stronger than he was. Mister Drew didn't know that. That was my advantage. I turned to him. We stood face-to-face. He smiled. ‘Come with me.’ He extended his arm toward me and I grabbed it. I held it hard, and he cried out in pain. I wasn't going to kill him. I can't kill. That's not who I am. I threw him to the floor. And I stood over him. And breathed for a moment. I ran then. I ran away. Into the darkness of the theater, down the trapdoor and through the vents. I just ran. I disappeared into the building. Into its secrets that even Joey Drew himself didn't know. I hid. I hid and he didn't find me. He couldn't find me…” ~ Daniel “Buddy” Lewek, Dreams Come to Life, pg. 288 and 295 (emphasis added)

*Stares at my notes on how it seems like Joey went into hiding to escape Nathan Sr. after JDS shut down* Maybe I'll be right that there's yet another secret ending that will involve unlocking Grayscale Mode to fully reveal the truth (though I'm sure that'll take a while for anyone to uncover if it exists, considering what unlocking BATIM's Grayscale Mode was like)? Maybe something involving merging the Memory of Joey with Bendy the way Bendy merged with Audrey in the default ending, or separating the Bendys and revealing them both to also be Joey, either way symbolizing that we can only know the truth by looking at the full picture? Or revealing the Memory of Joey to straight-up be Nathan Sr. in disguise (which would support my “Wilson's not actually the ‘new evil’ in the Ink Dimension, it's Nathan Sr.'s soul” theory)?

Back to the fate thing, there's actually a freakish number of “accidents/coincidences” and weird amount of attention that gets called to the “accidents/coincidences” before they get brushed aside in this series. Remember all the ones I called out in my original analysis/theory? Remember that rant of Wilson's I mentioned earlier, about how nothing that's going on makes sense?

Audrey: You did this to me. You brought me here. Turned me into this… this thing! This doesn't make sense! I've never done anything to you! Wilson: Open your eyes and look around you! None of this “makes sense.” Drawn walls. Nightmarish creatures. An ancient studio that died out almost thirty years ago. It's all fiction. Utter nonsense! And yet… in here, it exists. It breathes. It flourishes! Reality guided by its master's pen. The foundation for a new reality we can bleed into our own. Just think of it. Anything we create in here, we can release out there. *Pours blob of ink into hand* But first, this world must be controlled. *Makes a mini Bendy out of the ink blob* Made safe. *Plops mini Bendy onto his suitcase and pokes it until it stands up* These… things. These angels and demons. *Mini Bendy waves at Audrey, she waves back* Are they really life? *Picks mini Bendy back up* Or are they just… *crushes mini Bendy* stains? Old mistakes ready to be cleansed away for newer, greater things?

How the flipping heck does this rant make sense as a response to what Audrey said? It doesn't, unless there's a hidden, second meaning to it. Another riddle? Is he telling us that there's a specific reason that this doesn't make sense? That there's a Puppet Master behind the curtain, pulling everyone's strings, altering our perceptions of reality through gaslighting, manipulation, and complex plots executed in secret, and who sees people as playthings to shape into monsters that may not be who they really are and will destroy and/or erase any who become a liability or that he simply grows bored of? That many of his victims turn to Joey's Illusion of Living “philosophy,” deciding that if they're not allowed to know what reality is then they're going to create their own, better realities in order to cope (which Nathan Sr. of course loves and encourages because that makes them easier to control, so it'll only be safe if someone takes control away from him)?

“…And I got to know the world underground. I got to know the theater and the studio. I watched, hidden, as they were merged together. I watched Mister Drew fire people and hire new ones, and I watched as he tried to make the machine work. I learned that pictures came to life. Like I always feared. Like I always knew. And so I decided to write this down. And I think, I think I'm done. I think I have to be done because, Dot, I'm so tired. And he's getting stronger. Now I'm really not Buddy anymore. I am also Boris. Descending deeper into this world of aging, yellowing madness…” ~ Daniel “Buddy” Lewek, Dreams Come to Life, pg. 295-296 (emphasis added)

Something tells me that the entire reason Wilson speaks in riddles is because he figured out that's the only way he can trick his dad into letting him say what he wants to say… and that the version of him who wrote The Mug and the Maiden did so because he could tell that his dad's Murder Puppet process was working on him… and that he indeed connected to the hivemind, as that one Lost One was worried about, but for much less nefarious reasons than they thought… *Stares at my notes on how Joey seems to have had to jump through hoops in order to be permitted to publish TIOL and then create the hivemind in order to get more S.O.S.es out*

“That Wilson! He's everywhere! Yet he's nowhere! I don't know how he does it! It's madness! Madness!! What if he's inside my head? What if he can hear my thoughts?! Can you hear me now, Wilson? Can you?! You won't get me! I've got a plan! If I tear out my brain then you can't hear my mind! Ha! I'll show you! I defy you! All hail the Ink Demon! Hail! He's not dead, I tell you! He will rise again! And his dark revenge will be terrible!” ~ Unknown, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “In My Mind” memo (emphasis added)

Maybe all that's another reason Nathan Sr. hated him, he really was “one smart mug of cheese…” Too smart to be kept alive— was Riktor putting the cowbells on the skunks symbolic of Wilson warning people about what his dad was doing?! And was the great skunk famine that forced Riktor to “seek a new purpose” and get a job as an adventurer symbolic of Nathan Sr. punishing him for doing so, starting him on his journey to Murder Puppet status?!?! @inkdemonapologist pointed out that TLO calls attention to how these teens seem to have been swept up in the mess they were “for no reason,” they just happened to be in the wrong places at the wrong times (I don't recall any specific parts to quote, myself); now this fairytale calls attention to how the mouse (Brant) and the widow's dead husband (Joey) didn't need to die because there was a nearby cheese store, brushing the reader's questions as to why the mouse did this aside as unimportant? Could… this be saying that the “accidental” events of TLO were not, in fact, accidents?

“Again I shook my head. Didn’t [Constance] understand that this was not how it worked? She hadn’t lived in my world. Any company that could afford such a machine, that could hide it, that had such dark huge secrets, they had to be protected by something huge as well.” ~ Bill Chambers, Bendy: The Lost Ones, pg. 191 (emphasis added)

Bill's right, not only did Joey definitely already have the investors money, at this point, based on DCTL, but he also must've already had Nathan Sr.'s protection, like I pointed out in my original analysis/theory… So, why, exactly, were Joey and Allison in Atlantic City schmoozing Bill's dad? Were they trying to get the richest, most influential, most dangerous man in Atlantic City on their side in order to get out from under Nathan Sr.'s thumb after whatever event happened in between DCTL and TLO to start waking Allison from his trance? And did Nathan Sr. decide to retaliate by causing the very same man to put a price on Joey's head for causing the “death” of his son so that Joey would have no choice but to come running back with his tail between his legs and beg for his protection from Mr. Chambers??? Was the diving board incident sabotage staged to see if Bill was as good at fixing things as the rumors said, and then were the blackout at the party and projector malfunctioning during the ad screening further sabotage staged to impress Scott so that he'd bring Bill into the Ink Machine situation???? Could everything have been orchestrated in order to ensure Bill would come back until he “died” (none of the kids in TLO actually died, remember. Brant and Bill were absorbed by the ink, and Constance was still alive last we saw her. For all we know, she's only in the Inkwell now because it became too much work to keep taking the very, very temporary “ink cure” every single day), specifically?! Except, perhaps… Well, I have a sneaking suspicion that Brant was the only person involved in this fiasco who was never supposed to be there… I'll come back to that in a bit.

Back to Nathan Sr.'s side of things, could it be that behind all the horrible events in this series that get written off as “accidents/coincidences,” there really is “always a reason, even when you can't understand it,” as the Memory of Joey says? There's another very specific and horrific incident in BATDR, itself, that literally gets described as “fate dropping a solution in your lap.” I wonder if this side story, told through memos and an ink window message…

“Management has come up with a new way to ‘reward’ us employees: Instead of paying out bonuses or overtime, they've started handing out these little tokens that you can spend in company vending machines. Besides that, these tokens ain't got value of any kind. Obviously, a lot of people didn't like the idea. But the best part about the whole thing is that, within a week, someone figured out how to make fake tokens that fools the vending machines. We started calling the fake ones ‘SLUGS.’ Now, I can't remember the last time I've seen a real token around here. Them SLUGS are everywhere! Probably costing the studio a TON of money in snacks alone.” ~ Hudson Doyle, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “The Slug Problem” memo (emphasis added)

“Fate is a strange thing. Just when you think you've run out of options, it puts a solution in your lap. Andre stopped by my office to say goodbye on his way out the door. As far as everyone else knows, he's gone home to Rio. But, he never made it. Never even made it out of the kitchen. Little Andre slumped over dead right in front of me. Barely even made a sound. And here I was worried about running out of meat for today's special. Fate is a strange thing. Just when you think you've run out of options, it puts a solution in your lap.” ~ Chef Buck, Bendy and the Dark Revival, “A Bit Of Fate” memo (emphasis added)

…could be yet another of the many incidences there seem to have been of Nathan Sr. A: disappearing anyone who displeases him mafia boss-style, and B: turning ordinary people into Murder Puppets through suffering that made them believe they were in the right by committing their horrific acts, all without anyone ever being the wiser Nathan Sr. himself was even involved? Did he hire the worker who figured out how to make the counterfeit tokens to do so and/or to share the info on how, in order to make sure the studio – especially the cafeteria and snack machines – would be so flooded with them that if he ever needed somebody to conveniently dispose of a body for him, all he'd have to do would be to ensure the person just happens to die in front of this chef in desperate need of free meat? 🤢🤮 And what if this particular story, centered around food, and the fact that so many characters now kill us by “consuming” us, is also a way of Nathan Sr. getting back at Joey, once again twisting his dreams into something horrific to continue punishing him for his disobedience postmortem…?

“An amusement park. A land. A fully immersive place where illusion and reality danced together to create something else. Something wholly new. It wasn't just about fun rides or tasty treats, though of course we'd have plenty of that, it was about an experience. A whole new way of looking at life.” ~ Joey Drew, The Illusion of Living, pg. 204 (emphasis added)

“(After Richie is sent to get Joey because the teens have no idea where else to turn for help and then Buddy describes in excruciating detail all the sensations of drowning and fatal injuries that the soulless Ink Demon inflicts upon him, leading him to beg Dot multiple times to just give up on him and save herself and Jacob because he was beyond saving and he knew it.) The five senses: Touch: nothing. Taste: nothing Sound: nothing. Smell: nothing. Sight: blackness. And then: Nothing [I was already dead when Mister Drew got there]. . . . I'm dead. That's my dead body. ‘You see, I saved you,’ said Mister Drew. . . . ‘That's your body, Buddy. But it isn't you,’ said Mister Drew, crouching beside me. He said it as if he could read my mind. I looked at him angrily. I knew now I couldn't speak. I didn't even bother trying. I pointed instead, at the body's face, torso, legs… Something is missing. ‘Those are just parts. The real you. The real you is here.’ Mister Drew reached up and touched my chest, placing his palm firmly on my ribs. ‘Your soul.’ . . . ‘I saved your soul, Buddy. And you saved me. You're going to save Bendy.’ . . . ‘This is going to be wonderful. You'll see, you'll see,’ said Mister Drew. ‘Now come with me. I've set up a nice little room for you. A nice place. You'll like it. There's food.’” ~ Daniel “Buddy” Lewek, Dreams Come to Life, pg. 284, 291, 293, 294, and 295 (emphasis added)

“Because ultimately there is no conclusion to this story. Even after my death I am certain the story of my life, of my studio, and of my philosophy will continue. Of course, I intend to live forever, so that will never happen! Ha, a joke indeed, but in a way not a joke, for what is art but a doorway to immortality? The greatest Illusion of Living then, living on after we are no longer alive. What is more of an illusion than that? All this being said, while forward has always been my direction, and backward has always been unnecessary to me, I will concede that there may indeed come a day in the far-flung future where I will revisit all that I have done, walk through the halls of my mind, and spend time with the characters of my past. I hope then we can all sit around a table and have a drink—the fictional characters and the real, Bendy, Boris, Alice, Dr. Squier, Isabel Newsome, Mr. K, and so forth—and toast to the great accomplishment they were all instrumental in helping me create: the Illusion of Living.” ~ Joey Drew, The Illusion of Living, pg. 248-249 (emphasis added)

…When I first read that second-to-last paragraph of TIOL, it sounded like Joey was saying he wanted to immortalize particularly interesting people alongside himself or something. But now, with the broader context, I think it's sounding like he was hoping to make a paradise for people who've suffered in life (the scene where Buddy notes he seems disgusted driving through a crowd of his neighbors in their poor neighborhood easily explained by his shame over his own poor-person origins that Brant became, in part, a personification of) and that he couldn't bear the thought of losing. If Norman and Dave were really already infected by the ink (as anyone who spent too much time around it definitely was, seeing as it could slip off pages to crawl into the mouths of sleeping people), they would've already been “safe” in Joey's mind. The only one in that pile of bodies who wasn't “safe” was this boy who reminded him a lot of Henry; these kids came to him for help and Buddy was already dead with zero chance of resuscitation when he got there. Of course he'd try to bring him back, why wouldn't he?? Of course he'd try to soften the pain of knowing his human body was dead for Buddy even if he had to keep up the ruse of the reason behind events to avoid Nathan Sr.'s wrath, why wouldn't he???

What if the Ink Dimension originally existed for Joey's regret but now exists for Nathan Sr.'s revenge? What if it started out as a poorly-executed attempt to rescue those who fell victim to Nathan Sr.'s machinations, including at Joey's hands under his influence (*stares at my notes on how Joey seems to have genuinely hoped his Illusion of Living coping mechanism would help people, and on how he seems to have used the Illusion of Living to pretend he'd saved Lottie's life rather than having lost her to suicide*), and eventually became a prison for whoever Nathan Sr. wanted, including Joey (similarly to my original theories)? Perhaps the machine was speaking to Wilson of Joey's true, original intentions? “Life and death can become a thing of the past. Poverty and hunger, a distant memory. I can remake the world anew…” Maybe the whole “entertaining the masses” angle was largely or even purely to get Nathan Sr.'s approval of the plan, like how it seems a lot of the horrible and/or nonsensical things he said and did were to keep Nathan Sr.'s approval?

“‘…but after that comes the team. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a good one?’ . . . …You have to find the right mix, you have to find men who can work without you looking over their shoulder but at the same time don't feel that urge to add their own personal improvements. At least not without your permission. You need loyalty, so you need people who share your vision. But you don't want them taking over either.’” ~ Nathan Arch Sr.'s business advice, The Illusion of Living, pg. 149 and 150 (emphasis added)

Did anyone notice all the Alice in Wonderland imagery in BATDR? The memo heavily implied to be from Dapper Bendy/Real Joey titled “White Rabbit,” Twisted Alice throws that “tea party” for Audrey where we have to play a game of riddles (remind anyone of the Mad Hatter and Wilson?) with the Lost Ones in Wilson's mansion… Alice in Wonderland imagery joined the hivemind when Bill Chambers was infected. This is all another callback to TLO…!! I wonder… was the Alice in Wonderland stuff how Wilson was trying to warn the kids about what his dad was planning to do to them…? It wouldn't surprise me if he chose Alice in Wonderland for his warning riddles because he could tell Bill was familiar with it and he hoped both of the other kids would have it as fresh and clear in their minds (much like he seems to have done in making his fairytale's main character a cracked mug, trying to communicate what happened to him to Audrey. I'll come back to that)… Was this incident how Nathan Sr. found out that Wilson was helping his victims escape, the incident that genuinely started all the trouble in Wilson's story as the mouse dying supposedly started the trouble in Riktor's…?? Was Wilson being punished off-screen while Joey was collecting the “oysters” who almost escaped as he now had no choice but to do…???

“‘“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “to talk of many things…”’ replied Bill, walking toward it. I followed him. ‘The Walrus?’ I asked, feeling a little concerned. . . . ‘From Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Have you ever read the book?’ he asked, still looking at the machine. I didn't want to admit that I was not much of a reader… . . . ‘I know of it,’ I replied. I was standing next to him now, but I didn't want to touch the machine. Something about it made me uncomfortable. ‘Well, it's a poem from the book. The Walrus and the Carpenter take several young oysters for a walk along the beach.’ ‘Odd,’ I replied. Perhaps odder still was why on earth he was telling me any of this. Why was he acting so strange? It occurred to me then how dangerous innocuous strangeness could be. The beginning of our night together had been such fun, but now it had turned, like overripe fruit. I felt my defenses rise. . . . (About what looking into the machine felt like) A hole, like Alice's from her book. I knew that much. She fell for forever and ended up in a completely new world. I felt a shudder rising in me. I didn't want to fall down any holes today. . . . ‘How does the rest of the poem go?’ I asked, trying to make him feel a bit better. I looked up at the machine. It rose up so high when standing this close. There was a pipe here, large and winding like a boa constrictor. ‘Oh, it just goes on and on, more absurdity, very typical,’ replied Bill, standing next to me and looking up as well. ‘Of why the sea is “boiling hot?”’ But of course that's not true. Was that what the absurdity was then? Just a lie? ‘What's the point of it?’ ‘They eat all the oysters,’ said Bill. He was looking closely at the pipe. ‘I don't understand,’ I replied. ‘They invite the little oysters for a walk and then eat them.’ He tapped on the pipe. It made a hollow sound. He moved his hand and tapped again. The same sound. ‘That's the point of the poem?’ Something about that horrified me. ‘I don't know. But that's what happens.’ Another tap. Another hollow sound. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘It's what happens.’” ~ Constance Gray, Bendy: The Lost Ones, pg. 147-148, 149, and 151 (emphasis added)

(I'd already noticed, when I first read this, that it seemed like something was telling them that bad things were gonna happen to them. At this point, it definitely sounds like Wilson saying that he didn't yet know why, but he did know that Nathan Sr. was using Scott and Tom to take them on this adventure and “kill” them. Yup.)

“My beam landed on a wide toothy grin. Sharp teeth loomed above me. Like the Cheshire cat's smile, just floating there. But I knew the monster had claws. It looked at me, or at least seemed to. I was paralyzed. I couldn't move. I couldn't turn off the flashlight.” ~ Bill Chambers, Bendy: The Lost Ones, pg. 267 (emphasis added)

(Could this be Wilson saying that the smiling face everyone's so afraid of, aka Joey, is not the real danger, the real danger is the unseen claws who won't allow anyone to escape nor to look at anything but the smiling face, having found out what the reasons behind Nathan Sr.'s plot were?)

“Here we go. This was madness. But weren't we all mad here?” ~ Brant Morris, Bendy: The Lost Ones, pg. 273 (emphasis added)

(This is the line that made me realize we were dealing with a hivemind. Brant wasn't there when Bill was talking about The Walrus and the Carpenter, there's no reason for this line to cross his mind other than someone else's thoughts were entering his head.)

“I started running again. I didn't feel tired, even though my muscles ached. I felt grateful for my rage. It spurred me on. It made me want to get out of here, and most importantly it made me confident that I was right in all my decisions. I knew this was probably problematic in the real world, but in this strange underground world, I was like Alice from the book. This wasn't reality. It was Wonderland. I was falling down a rabbit hole except I was running along it and it was sideways. We're all mad here. . . . Something yanked me from behind. My head snapped in a whiplash and I fell hard on my back, dropping everything in my hands . . . I saw a shadow along the wall, a creature. The monster? No. It seemed to have two long ears. Like a rabbit, or possibly some dog. But it was tall and human sized. And fleeting. The shadow vanished down the hall. It left me. It had attacked me and then left me. I didn't understand. I turned to look at the mess around me. I watched as the poker rolled away from me a few inches and then suddenly vanished [over the edge of the cliff I'd just narrowly been saved from running off of].” ~ Constance Gray, Bendy: The Lost Ones, pg. 277-278 (emphasis added)

(First of all, Constance literally told us she hadn't read the book, so this can't not be more hivemind shenanigans. Second of all, could that second part be Wilson saying both that the reason Joey ran to Atlantic city after Buddy died was to try and prevent Nathan Sr. from hurting anyone else through him and that the reason Dapper Bendy runs away and hides so much, even tiptoeing away if he's not sitting down during battle, is to protect us from Freaky Teeth?? I'll come back to the first part in a moment.)

My gosh, that all adds whole new levels of chilling to the story… and sends me to whole new levels of “I hate Nathan Sr. and wanna adopt Wilson—” he was such a good, sweet boy, the poor baby /gen… 😭 Back to that sneaking suspicion… Does the amount of attention the story draws to the idea that Brant might just be a nobody whose disappearance won't even go noticed not seem… excessive, to anyone else?

“Knock knock! Who's there? Brant. Brant who? That was all my mind could tell me, repeating the same phrase over and over. Brant who, indeed. Did he have a family? Were they missing him? Would the police start looking for him? Brant who?” ~ Bill Chambers, Bendy: The Lost Ones, pg. 216-217

It feels like… this moment might not just be about Bill's emotions. Like it's not just him wondering this because he's been effing traumatized. It… feels like Wilson might be trying to tell us that his dad didn't have a reason to lure Brant in. Like, perhaps, he's panicking because he, himself, doesn't know if this boy's disappearance will garner attention. Like… he didn't think this through enough, and now he's regretting it hardcore. I wonder if it was Brant's “death,” specifically, that got Wilson caught because he did a little orchestration of his own trying to get our beloved Mr. Reporter-In-Training to expose his dad to the world just like Brant, himself, had originally planned to do to Bill's dad, but things really, really didn't go according to plan…?! 🤯 Moving forwards, I wonder if that especially important line of Buddy's at the beginning of DCTL was a message from Wilson, as well?

“This has always stayed with me: Of all the memories that are getting mixed up a bit in here, in this brain, in this head, this… this for some reason just sticks out. Right then when he clapped, the lights came back on. It was like they were waiting for him, it was like he was in control of them. He wasn’t. But I made that connection back then. Somehow it made sense that maybe, just maybe, he had the power to do that. He didn’t. And he doesn’t. Don’t let anyone make you think he does.” ~ Daniel “Buddy” Lewek, Dreams Come to Life, pg. 20 (emphasis added)

While we're on the subject of Wilson and the abomination that is Nathan Sr.'s deplorable parenting (this is the worst possible way I could've been right about Wilson being just another Murder Puppet, oof… 💔🤬), I find it strange that Wilson's scarred-blind (heavily implied to be his dad's fault by The Mug and the Maiden) vs. undamaged seeing eyes are switched in the real world vs. the Ink Dimension. In his human body, his right eye is whited out presumably due to the same injury that scarred that side of his face. In his ink body, the right glows just like Audrey's, Porter's, and so many other characters', suggesting he can see through it, whereas his left is dissolved into black ink on the same side of his head as what appears to be an injury from either falling and hitting it or being bludgeoned. And then both of his eyes are blacked out and he's undamaged in his posters— until you get down to his laboratory and discover that he's subtly colored his posters so that you can tell that his eye sockets are empty and bleeding? There's gotta be some sort of symbolism, there.

Where has left vs. right been important before, in this series? Anyone remember in BATIM…?

And what about in TIOL…?

Angel: Spending my time with a devil has been an enlightening experience. Working with you over these years with you sitting on that left shoulder, so far yet so near, all our debates, they were invigorating for the spirit Devil: So that is a yes [you'd miss me if our human has become only good and I have to leave]? Angel: I suppose it is. Devil: I won't miss you [if he's become only bad and you have to leave]! Fighting all the time, trying to trick you into agreeing with me, trying to push you off that right shoulder of yours. The violence and the anger. I won't miss it at all! Angel: Oh, but you will, dear Mr. Devil. (Pause) Devil: Maybe I would a little.

I think Wilson's posters symbolize the fact that if we allow Nathan Sr. to gaslight us into ignoring the evidence of his crimes, then we, the audience, are blind to the truth behind the horrors of the series. And I think that the difference between the two has to do with how Nathan Sr.'s manipulation and abuse completely and utterly fudges up his victims' consciences (“…most importantly it made me confident that I was right in all my decisions. I knew this was probably problematic in the real world, but in this strange underground world, I was like Alice from the book. This wasn’t reality. It was Wonderland. I was falling down a rabbit hole except I was running along it and it was sideways. We’re all mad here,” as Constance said… To people living in the literal and figurative real world, it looks as if Nathan Sr.'s victims just have no consciences and are evil for the sake of being evil; but, in the literal and figurative imaginary world that Nathan Sr. traps his victims in through gaslighting and so on, they're seeing the good intentions/desperation/etc. behind their actions, and therefore see themselves as good and their actions as justified even if they still have a sense that maybe they're not, in reality) and possibly also the different ways we perceive the results of Nathan Sr.'s actions in the real world vs. the Ink Dimension (not a fully formed thought, feel free to disregard that one). By the way, did anyone notice Bendy seemed to have control of the right hand – that's the hand he crushed the Memory of Joey with – while Audrey seemed to have control of the left hand – that's the hand she picked up the End Reel with – when they were first sharing a body? 🤔 This feels a possible hint that the End Reel was created by Nathan Sr., not Joey, as part of turning the Ink Dimension into a prison (“those tunnels are even deeper, even darker, than this one. There is only suffering down there,” after all)… and that the Memory of Joey/Nathan Sr. is not actually a good entity, but Bendy/Real Joey is, at the end of the day…?

As for Boswell's monocle meaning he was actually Wilson… Exhibit B: Boswell first appeared in 1932; Nathan Jr. and his baby bro Wilson were literally little kids at that point. Exhibit C: monocles usually aren't worn all the time in real life like they are in cartoons, they're usually used by farsighted/longsighted individuals and kept in one's pocket until one needs to pull them out for reading. If Nathan Sr. did have a monocle, he probably would not be wearing it to pose for a painting. Exhibit D: Ignoring that one slightly similar design detail, and regardless of whether the “Nathan Arch” portrait is of Senior or Junior, I think Boswell resembles the round, mustachio'd Nathan much more than the angular, bare-faced broomstick that is Wilson…

…In conclusion: honestly, it sounds to me like people being convinced that Wilson and Nathan Jr. are the same person and therefore Boswell must not be Nathan Sr. is literally just another example of Nathan Sr. successfully gaslighting everyone into an altered perception of reality (and you should just assume from this point forward that when any form of the phrase “Nathan Sr. is altering reality/memories” comes up, you can replace it with “Nathan Sr. is gaslighting us,” lol). Speaking of which, now that I think of it, I'm very suspicious of the fact that the comics where Boswell seems like a decent and oblivious person and Bendy seems to be (trying to) take advantage of him are sepiatoned, whereas the comic that I think got the two main comic artists disappeared is in black-and-white… *Stares at my notes on the possible symbolism of the sepiatone color pallet representing a preserved altered perception and the grayscale color pallet representing an easily destroyed purer perception* Also, my gosh, they make him look so goshdanged welcoming and saintly in his portrait. That smile is glowing with Santa Claus Vibes and I don't trust it.

Curious about Henry and Allison's story retcons being blatant lies and my theories on Audrey's origins, Gent CEO Alan/Allen Gray/Grey's true identity, etc? Read Part Three!

To Read the Original Analysis/Theory: Part One • Part Two • Part Three • Unexpected Part Four

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Note

scaramouche, diluc, and childe with a [gn] reader whos terrified of needles?

Needle Fear

Warning -> General, sfw (mention of needles, getting a shot, cussing (S), sudden kiss (Ch))

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Childe, Diluc, Scaramouche

Childe

Not only has Childe seen many sicknesses and many healers, but he’s also had to help his siblings through any and all visits they had to take - so it wasn’t unusual for him when you nearly begged him to visit the healers with you

There was something adorable about the way you tightly gripped onto his hand, the way you hid behind him just enough when you walked down the hall to the examination room, the way you glanced at him or turned to him every time you heard a person walk past the door. How could he not think you were adorable?

“Childe, it’s gonna hurt.” Your fingers curled around his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. His comforting scent and tall frame were like a barrier between you and the door you didn’t want to see.

“It’ll be okay, I have to do this all the time.”

“Really?” He nodded his head and lifted your chin. The smile on his face was reassuring and, for a moment, as his fingers rested against you, you forgot where you even were. That was until you heard the click of the door and the sound of footsteps.

“Hey there, are we ready?” They entered the room and set their items on the small table next to you but all you could respond with was shifting closer into the shield you’d made out of Childe.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. Wanna know why?” He leaned down, his arms spanning either side of you while his palms pressed into the mattress you sat on. The soft cool of his eyes brought you a reprieve, a distraction from the current environment and as you looked at him, you shook your head signaling him to continue. “I’ll be here the whole time, right here, that’s why it’ll be okay.”

After a moment, you gave in - how could you not when he was so comforting to you. “O-okay, I’m ready.” Your hands moved to grab onto his wrists and as you heard the healer begin to prepare their items, you continued to stare at Childe. “Don’t move.”

“I won't.” You nodded again, your eyes drifting to the healer, and when they ran a cool, cleansing cloth over your arm you tensed. “Look at me, it’s okay.” Their hand wrapped around your arm to hold you steady and your head twisted in fear.

“Childe --- I can’t … hold o-” Your words were cut off by his lips, his fingers wrapping around your jaw as he pulled you back to him. The suddenness of his kiss blocked out everything else, the heat of his lips, the fullness of his connection, it was all so distracting.

“All done.” You pulled away, your gaze dropping to the small bandage they placed onto your arm. When did they do that?

“See, I told you it would be simple.” Childe smiled at you and you hid your embarrassment in the palm of your hand.

Diluc

He couldn’t count the times he’s had to experience this type of care - from the constant exams done in the Knights of Favonious, to the aid he received during his three mysterious years - getting something like this was just common practice to him at this point - plus, it only took a few moments and then it was over, so it wasn’t that bad

Though, as he watched the way you fussed, worried, and nearly drew yourself to sickness at the idea, he recalled a memory of his childhood. If he could do it for you, he would, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case and he was going to need to find some other way to keep you steady

Diluc stood next to you, his body angled in such a way that he could keep you in his line of sight while also observing the door. You didn’t dare turn around so instead, you looked out the window as you held onto your arms with a grip that hurt your fingers.

“I don’t like this.” You muttered, watching the workers meander through the vineyards. It would have been better if you could just be with them, hide in between the many dangling grapes, and as far away from this situation as you could get.

“I know, I’ve been assured this person is very experienced. You should have nothing to fear.”

“Save for the whole needle part, archons, why do we even need this.” You shook your head and moved closer to the window.

“It will only take a moment, I’ll be here the whole time.” Turning your attention away from the outside world, you gazed up at Diluc. His neutral expression surrounded by lively hair was somehow more comforting than anything you’d ever come upon in your whole lifetime. He was your rock, steadfast and sturdy, and as his fingers grazed your arm, ran over your ear, you knew his words held true.

“Oka--”

“Master Diluc, the healer.” You turned and saw one of the maids ushering in a young woman whose brightness lit up the room. You recognized her from the church and immediately you felt more at ease. Quickly, the instruments were prepared and as you settled onto the bed, your eyes found the one thing you were most anxious about.

“I know you’re scared,” She began, pulling a chair close to you while she explained the process. “I’ll clean your arm with this,” She pointed to the small tin before continuing, “then I’ll gently take your arm and give you the shot.”

“It’ll hurt, right.” You whispered, shifting uncomfortably to make more space.

“For a very brief second. Then it’ll be over.” Her smile was so warm and you knew she must have done this quite often.

“I’m sure it’s silly to see a grown adult so afraid of needles.”

“Not as silly as you would imagine, are you ready?” You looked at her and nodded your head slowly but when she began the process, you turned away and closed your eyes. That’s when you felt the bed dip and a warm heat spread across your body.

“I’m right here.” Diluc’s voice was soft, and sent a shiver down your spine - or was that the cleaning salv? It didn’t matter because as soon as your face found his chest, you disappeared into his warmth and security. All you felt was his hand over your ear, all you heard was the pounding of his heart; you weren’t sure how long you stayed that way, but by the time you looked up the healer was gone but Diluc had stayed.

Scaramouche

He didn’t understand your aversion to something so small. How could one little thing cause you to break down into a panic, it’s not like it could really hurt you - he’s felt much worse in his lifetime

So when you begged him to go with you, pleaded practically on your knees, he was stuck between his irritation of your complaints and how cute you were with those pouting lips and watering eyes (how adorable you look, he’ll never tell you though)

“It’s not that bad, just be quiet for one minute.” Scara pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed so loud you were sure people outside of the room could hear him. Of course, he’d be annoyed, you literally dragged him here to your check-up just so you could have someone with you when they … when they brought out the needle. Why did they need to do this to you anyway, weren’t there healers all around Teyvat that could cure you with a flick of their wrist. The fact that they also had instruments like these was confounding.

“I know, I’m sorry …” You bit your lip and turned away from him. Your eyes finding the sheets and fingers moving to poke at your gums, teeth clenching hard around your nails. This habit was one you developed a long time ago and while you managed to curb it during most activities but when you were stressed and uncomfortable it reared its head.

You heard the sound of Scara’s voice and turned to look at him but were interrupted by the healer entering the room. “Hello, are you ready?” As soon as they placed the items close to you, you went stiff. You wanted so badly to be calm but it was … impossible, look at that thing! Eyes darting to Scara you slipped into pleading but did your best to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Will it hurt?” Scara asked as he watched them prepare the needle and syringe.

“Only for a second, I promise you won’t even notice it.” They looked at you but all your eyes could see was the large pointy metal bit that was about to go right through your skin and as a child reaches for their parent in the darkness, you grabbed onto Scara’s clothes.

“Fine, give me one. I’ll show you there isn’t anything to be scared about.” Quickly, he rolled up his sleeves and after the healer prepared a second needled, they held his arm while he looked in your direction.

“Ready?”

“Get it over with.” You watched as the needle moved to his arm, your head shaking but he seemed so calm. “See there is nothing to -- FUCK WHAT THE .. SHIT!?” His sudden outburst startled both you and the healer, but their professionalism powered through until it was all done.

“Wasn’t that bad … huh?” You laughed, your hand covering your mouth as you watched him stare daggers into the person at his side.

“Shut up, I’m leaving.”

“Wait! I still haven’t gotten mine!!”

“Too bad, you’re on your own.”

“Scara!” He pushed his way through the door and you heard him shouting indiscernibly down the hall.

“Are you ready?” The healer asked, and you began to bite your nails.

tag list:

@sufzku @plenilunegazes @the-mermaid-of-mondstadt @fuwon @aoirohi @anatthesavage @actstfbla @shy-specter @fvushiguros @kaidou-pie @cyphermagic @linarizaki

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #childe X reader #childe #genshin childe #genshin impact childe #diluc X reader #diluc #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #needles

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genshinobsession · 3 years

Note

okey okey but like for your sentience au thing, and in one of your recent asks

like the one where the characters finally break free, childe's part had me thinking on how they can always be with you

what if, whatever, character manages to escape but what if they were tiny. like the same character size on the device you play on.

like what if they were pocket sized, is basically what I'm saying. then they can be always with ya.

ya know.

ack, too much.

anyways..

I'm really liking your writing and ideas. I've turned on my notifs, so that I can always be updated on when you post. and I just, plse continue to write. obvi ion wanna sounds like I'm forcing ya to continue writing.

drink some water, not too much nor too little, eat, takes nap and take care of yourself

This is a GREAT idea thank you!

I hope I wrote it the way you were hoping so far!

They Escape the Game (Part 1)

(Pocket Edition)

Characters included in this part:

Xiao, Diluc, Kaeya

(I may make a PC version but it will more than likely just be HC’s because the only thing that would change would be the slight change in height)

Xiao

It took everything in him to finally decide to leave everything he knows behind and take a leap of faith out of the game. All he’s every known has been Genshin and ONLY genshin. So when he had finally gotten out of it he was more than surprised by what he saw.

When he had made it out, the first thing he was met by

Was you.

Except, you were h u g e.

You looked down at the tiny person in front of you who had just literally hopped out of your screen.

As you took a closer look your realized it was xiao.

HA, that can’t be right, right?

You went to poke him to make sure you weren’t just making it up but right before you did you felt his tiny hands push against yours a-bit.

“What are you doing?” He asked with his usually annoyed tone. Your eyes widened as you realized, this was in fact xiao. He just, popped out of your game.

You left the palm of your hand open as he hesitantly climbed on. You carefully raised him closer to your face as he grabbed onto your thumb to secure himself on your hand.

“Xiao?” You asked.

“Who else would it be.” He retorted, taking a quick glance at the very large objects around him. He was used to the large mountains in Liyue but nothing of this size.

Having the tiny man in the palm of your hand was such a weird feeling but you had to admit his tiny angry face did look adorable. You gently placed him back down as you began to think.

“How are you even here?”

“...” no response came from the tiny yaksha as he looked away, seemingly avoiding the question. He looked around your room a bit more and noticed that you had his mask on your wall.

“How did you get that.” He asked as he pointed to it, looking back down towards his hip where his now tiny mask still remained.

“Oh, this was a gift from a friend of mine.” You said as you carefully took it down and placed it in-front of him.

Carefully he stood on top of the mask and admired the detail, it was accurate to the one he had, which was impressive but he dare not say that out loud. He lightly hopped off the mask as he looked back at your phone that now had an empty space where he had been.

His mind did start to wander as he thought about how literally all he knew was essentially

A lie.

Not wanting to think about it to much he turned back towards you.

“Traveler... pick me up.” He demanded as his now outstretched hands wrapped around your finger as you lifted him back up to your face.

“I am now going to stay with you to protect you at all times. No, you do not have a say in this.” He proclaimed as you lightly chuckled.

“What’re you going to protect me with, a toothpick?” You joked and xiao pulled out his spear and lightly poked your finger, not enough to make you bleed but it still hurt causing you to almost drop him.

“Didn’t think that through, did you.” You laughed.

Going about daily life wasn’t too hard with Xiao always around. You found different places to hide him so if someone walked in they wouldn’t see him.

When going outside you attempted putting him in your pocket but it was a bit to much of a tight fit for him to stick his head out well. So you decided to get a small empty bag.

He’s often very quiet throughout the day, just enjoying being around you finally. He didn’t even care about how you looked he just wanted to be around you especially now that he’s in a huge world full of unfamiliar things.

Diluc

At first Diluc was unsure about dropping everything and leaving, since there was no guarantee of him getting back if he felt homesick. However, this thought was overruled when you had joined the game again.

He wasn’t one to just jump head first into things but this time he was sure about what he wanted to do. And before you could even do your normal greeting he had leaped from the screen.

He didn’t think about the fact that he had no idea where he was going to end up when he jumped through but that question was quickly answered when he landed in your face.

You immediately swatted at you face, thinking it was a bug, not caring to open your eyes and look at who it actually was.

Diluc hung on for dear life as you finally swatted him off but he luckily landed on the pillow in-front of you.

As you rubbed your mouth hoping to get the feeling of what you thought was a bug off your mouth you finally heard it.

“Traveler?” The voice said. It was a strong voice and sounded, a bit far away. You looked around for the voices host, but saw no one. Until you looked down at the pillow in front of you and noticed the small redhead who was standing there.

You had no idea what to say, this isn’t real right? But it’s so convincing. He practically look as if he was actually there.

“Diluc?” You asked hesitantly as he looked back up at you. This was the first time he had ever seen you face to face, you were a lot bigger than he had thought you were going to be but he found your features beautiful nonetheless.

You carefully put your hand down for him to climb up and he did. He held onto your thumb go slight security as you lifted him up to get a closer look, and sure enough, it was Diluc, down to every last detail.

“Oh my goodness it really is you! Why are you so small?” You asked, he shrugged his shoulders and turned back to look at the thing he popped out of which was your phone.

“Well I’m assuming since I come through that portal object over there, I ended up being no bigger than that size.” He said as you put him carefully back down on the phone.

“What is this thing anyways?” He asked as he tapped the sword attack button on your screen causing your character to attack.

“Ah, so that’s how you did it. I will admit this is a little bit weird for me.” He said as he turned back towards you.

“Are you still able to bring out your weapon and everything?” You asked and he nodded and drew his weapon. You were amazed to say the least. Your favorite character literally just popped out of your game.

“This is amazing! I can’t believe you’re here, how did you even manage to get out? Do you plan to go back? How would you even get back?” You rambled on with more and more questions as Diluc just calmly watched you as a small smile graced his features.

He didn’t care about getting back right now, all he cares about was that he was finally with you.

Kaeya

Your day had been pretty rough. Nothing was going right from the beginning so when you finally got back home you decided to just sit down and play Genshin.

When you entered you had realized Kaeya wasn’t in his usual spot which confused you but you decided to do a few quests before questioning it.

Eventually you had just gotten to the point in the Lantern Rite where you had to talk to Kaeya and you were ECSTATIC.

You made your way from Liyue to Mondstadt as fast as you could. And from a distance you could see the marker as it counted down the closer you got to it. As you made your way to fountain there he was.

He smiled at your presence as you ran around him in circles, trying your best to say hi. You stopped in front if him and went through the quest dialogue, praying to Barbatos that he wouldn’t disappear after wards, and lucky enough for you he didn’t!

You hopped up and down out if pure joy.

Kaeya chuckled a bit at your excitement as he put his hands on your characters shoulders to stop them from hopping.

“I have a little surprise for you, I’ve been working on it for a while. I need you to wait here.” He said as he backed up from your character. You watched him as he just disappeared.

“The hell?” You asked out loud, what kind of surprise was this? You expected him to appear back in front of you in game but it never happened.

You waited a little bit expecting something to happen, yet nothing did. Until you were met face to face with the blue haired Calvary captain.

Not expecting the sudden figure to just appear in-front of you freaked out and jumped up from where you were seated, cause Kaeya to go flying.

Luckily it was that far of a distance and he managed to land safely.

“Kaeya?” You asked, thinking you might’ve just had your phone to close to your face.

“Surprise!” He said, climbing back up your chair. He landed on a space where you both could see each other as he finally got a good look at your face.

You had no idea what to say as you looked at the tiny captain in-front of you. He still did some of his idle animations as he stood, waiting for your response.

“How did you get out?” You asked him, leaning down towards him a bit.

“I have my ways.” He replied. It’s Kaeya, did you really expect a full detailed answer? He looked around your room, taking in the new surroundings. It was nothing like he had seen in Mondstadt, for one thing there was technology.

This was entirely new to him, and there didn’t seem to be any weapons anywhere.

Your entire room was practically the size of Mondstadt to him.

“I must say, I didn’t actually think this would work, but I’m glad I could finally meet you.” He smiled, you smiled back, still unsure of what was happening and questioning if you should make an appointment with an eye doctor.

“How long have you been trying for?” You asked looking down at him, he paused as he thought of his answer, the time difference in your world was drastic from that of Teyvat.

“Well it’s hard to say but I have tried maybe, 25-30 times before. I was starting to lose hope if I’m being honest.” He admitted. You had no idea he was this dedicated to getting out of the game

To see you.

It was flattering but also a bit scary to think your favorite character has wanted to meet you just as much as you wanted to meet him.

“This height difference nah be a problem though.” He pointed out with a chuckle.

“We’ll figure something out I’m sure.” You responded

-Birdy

(This basically just serves as an introduction to the idea and hopefully I will have enough time to come back and expand on what they do as tiny people)

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fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 · 3 years

Text

Flirting, My Dear Watson

This was requested by @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama, and it is literally so freaking great!!! I can’t wait to see how this plays out while I’m writing it. As always gif and characters are not mine. Hope you enjoy this!

Description: Y/N is a profiler for Scotland Yard, and they captured Sherlock’s attention right away. Sherlock’s friends suggest that he should try and flirt with Y/N, but his attempts don’t go as planned

Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of blood/a crime scene, otherwise none

Sherlock knelt down beside the victim. He was examining any and every clue that he could find. The victim was placed gently on a park bench, and from far away it seemed as if they were still alive. However, the trail of dried blood that came from a gaping slash in the victim’s neck said otherwise. Sherlock knew in an instant what happened.

“Well,” Sherlock started as he stood up and straightened his coat, “it’s obvious what happened here. The-,”

“The victim was killed by someone close to him. Perhaps a lover or an ex. The way the victim was precisely placed to seem like they are still alive shows that the killer cared for the victim, but by the violent slashing seen in the neck wound, it would be more likely that our killer is a jealous ex who wanted to keep this person to themselves.”

Sherlock turned around, and a woman was standing a few feet away from the body. Their H/C hair flowed in the afternoon breeze, and they held a cup of coffee in their right hand. Sherlock had never seen this woman before, but he was automatically interested as to how she managed to figure out who the killer was.

“Your assumption is spot on. I don’t believe we have met before though,” Sherlock said as he tried to analyze the woman in front of him.

“Oh, my names Y/N. I’m a profiler. I was just hired recently at Scotland Yard, and this is my very first case. However, I must say it was fairly easy compared to some of the stuff I’ve studied.”

“I can tell you graduated from Oxford. Top of your class judging by the pin you have attached to your jacket. Why would you settle for a low job like this?”

“Because, I needed the job and they were hiring. Funny, I thought the famous Sherlock Holmes would have been able to figure that out.”

Sherlock simply stood with his mouth open. He never expected so much sass to come from a woman who appeared to be more of an introvert. Y/N quickly took some samples from the body, and left as fast as she appeared. She turned around and smiled at the consulting detective. “I hope to see you again soon, Mr. Holmes.”

The detective simply nodded as Y/N climbed into her vehicle. John walked up beside Sherlock and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “I never thought I would see the day when the Sherlock Holmes was left dumbfounded by someone else. You could have at least asked for her number.”

“Why would I do that,” Sherlock asked as his brows furrowed slightly.

“It’s obvious that you like Y/N. I felt the same way when I saw Mary for the first time. Perhaps you can try flirting with Y/N the next time you see her.”

“I will do nothing of the sort. I don’t feel anything towards her. I’m just glad that for once I’m not surrounded by idiots for a change.”

John simply shook his head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

——————————————————————————

The next time Y/N and Sherlock met, it was at a second crime scene. Everyone knew at this point that Sherlock was head over heels for her, as much as Sherlock could be that is. Everyone agreed that it would be best to try and hook Y/N and Sherlock up.

“Ah, I see that you brought some coffee with you again today,” Lestrade commented. “Sherlock here likes coffee too. Maybe you two could go to the cafe downtown sometime.”

Sherlock glared at Lestrade. “I don’t like coffee. I only drink tea.”

Lestrade simply rolled his eyes, and Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at the two men. “Shall we examine the body Mr. Holmes?”

“Of course, Mrs. L/N.”

As they were examine the body, Sherlock stole glances at Y/N. He knew it was illogical and that this was simply his body’s way of reacting to an attractive female, but he just couldn’t help it. The determination in Y/N’s eyes said it all for him.

“This crime is an interesting one don’t you think,” Y/N said as they turned their head towards Sherlock.

“Yes it is, almost as interesting as you are,” Sherlock quickly replied.

“Did you just compare this beautiful young woman to a corpse?”

The profiler and the detective both turned around to see a man standing behind him. Y/N could tell that he looked quite stressed, and had to be higher up in society. Sherlock simply rolled his eyes at the man, but that didn’t stop him from continuing. “Honestly, Sherlock, has all of this time alone ruined your flirting skills that badly?”

“No, they haven’t. Now if you would please leave us to our business, Mycroft, that would be lovely.” Sherlock smiled up at his brother, and Mycroft simply shook his head as he went back to talk with Lestrade.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the spectacle. “He’s quite the character.”

“To put it quite mildly, yes he is. I wish my brother wouldn’t interrupt my work though. I mean, our work of course,” Sherlock said as he stood up.

Y/N couldn’t believe what she just heard. Sherlock Holmes once again did something out of the ordinary when he was around here. Y/N knew the whole time what was going on with Sherlock, but they wanted to play things out a little bit longer. “Say, would it be alright if we go back to your place to study over the evidence? It’s cold out here, and I focus better when I’m warmer.” This of course was a total lie. Sherlock knew this as well, but he thought that it would be a good chance to finally get things right.

“Of course, my address is 221B Baker Street. John and my landlady Mrs. Hudson will be there, but I’m sure they won’t disturb us,” Sherlock replied as he handed Y/N a slip of paper that had the address scribbled on it. “Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway.”

——————————————————————————

Y/N entered the door of the flat, and Mrs. Hudson was ready to greet her. “Y/N! It’s so nice to finally meet you! It’s so rare that Sherlock brings home such a beautiful woman.”

“She’s simply a comrade, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock shouted from the top of the stairs.

Mrs. Hudson simply rolled her eyes. “He may be the smartest detective in London, but he’s not very smart when it comes to love.” Y/N laughed at the comment before walking up the stairs. Y/N found Sherlock sitting in the middle of the floor, a mannequin laying a few paces in front of him.

“So, do you always have mannequins lying around the house? Or is this something special for me,” Y/N said with a smirk.

“I figured we could do some experiments to figure more about the killer and his motives,” Sherlock commented as he got up from the floor. Once again, Sherlock already knew the killer’s motives, and so did Y/N, but this game was to much fun to stop so soon.

Mrs. Hudson entered carrying a tray with tea and biscuits resting on the silver surface. “I’m not sure that rehearsing a murder works as a proper first date. You should have taken her out to a nice restaurant or a little tea shop.”

Sherlock smiled at his landlady. “Why would I take her out for tea when we have you to bring us some?”

“For the last time, I’m your landlady. Not your maid!”

After Mrs. Hudson had left, Sherlock and Y/N began their work to replicate the crime scene. As they were going through the steps, Y/N’s hand brushed against Sherlock’s. Both of them tensed a little, but not before sending a gentle smile to each other to show that it was alright.

“Would you two just get a room already?”

John was standing in the doorway now, bags of groceries in his grasp. He had enough of seeing the two most intelligent people he knew beat around the bush. Sherlock glanced at his roommate. “Well, I have been flirting with her, John.”

“Well, I hate to say it, but your flirting is terrible. The best detective in London should be able to know when his methods aren’t working.”

It was Y/N’s turn to comment. “Oh no, they were working. Sure it was indeed terrible, but it was to amusing to tell him to stop.”

Sherlock smirked at the woman. “And I knew that you knew that I knew.”

“Of course you did,” Y/N replied. “So, how about we go down town for dinner tomorrow at six?”

“That sounds perfect.”

John let out a sigh of both relief and annoyance. “Bloody hell you two are something.”

John was right of course, Sherlock and Y/N were something. Some would think that a relationship like there’s wouldn’t work, or that Sherlock’s ego would get in the way, but it was both the flaws and skills that drew these two individuals together. And no matter how much their love grew, they would always remember their first meeting at a crime scene, and the horrendous flirting that followed.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #x reader #benedict cumberbatch #john watson #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #mrs. hudson #martin freeman #fanfic #fluff

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isazulabaeorwhat · 3 years

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Rachel Amber, The Broken Angel Who Demonized Herself

Fair warning, please bear with this probably incredibly **longass** (I’m not kidding it’s rlly long) analysis of one of the fandom’s most controversial disliked characters, Rachel Amber. This is just my attempt to analyze her character based on observation from BtS to LiS so by no means do you have to accept them. Productive discussions are obviously very welcomed :D

In LiS, when we asked about Rachel around campus, most of them had nothing but compliments and praises for the missing girl. She was essentially an honorary Vortex Club member who socialised with the snobs, yet she also hung out with the skater stoners and was friendly with those at the bottom of the social hierarchy. Then we see those graffiti around where it hints at Rachel’s promiscuity, debts and conflicts with other people. That’s the first sign we see that Rachel Amber isn’t as perfect as everyone was making her out to be. Afterwards we discover that Rachel was a stoner herself and into whatever drugs there were, partied harder than anyone else, promiscuous, entered a relationship with local drug dealer Frank Bowers while having a secret relationship with Psycho teacher Mark Jefferson— all while maintaining a 4.0 GPA in her studies and being considered perfect and adored by practically everyone in her school. The girl’s incredible, obviously, or maybe scary for someone to be so spread out in everything.

Rachel was a straight A student with a 4.0 GPA, an administrative assistant to the Principal, beloved by students and faculty alike, literal goddess beauty, had ambitions to be a model and study international law, daughter of the DA and was the closest to perfection anyone would ever be— so what went wrong? What made her romanticise the idea of running away from a town where everyone loves and adores her?

Because of the above.

Yes, it may sound whiny and dramatic to feel tired of being loved and being the center of attention all the time, but there’s no point to it if it’s not you who they adore, but the person you’re pretending to be— (“I was feeling angsty and reckless. Tired of living up to the perfect image everybody expects out of me.”) —especially when you have to do so much just to maintain the lie.

Throughout LiS and BtS, Rachel’s ability to get along with everyone was always mentioned. At face value she was akin to a social butterfly. She hung out with stoners regardless of their social status (skaters or the vortex club), was friendly with anyone regardless of their place in the social hierarchy (eg; Daniel/Evan/Steph/Drew/Nathan) or even to strangers others usually ignored (Samuel/Homeless lady). Like Evan said, Her friends were her friends. She wasn’t one to let peer pressure affect her relationships so she wasn’t afraid to make all those acquaintances.

However, for those who knew her closely (Chloe and Jefferson), she was referred to as a chameleon, someone who blended in with everyone and everywhere seamlessly. This was an important detail regarding who Rachel was and her intimacy with others. To be able to make that comparison, they would’ve needed to know who the person Rachel actually was underneath the masks she’d created over the years. Chloe was the first to truly see and accept her for who she was. Jefferson was the one who exploited her for it.

For most, being a social chameleon would count as a beneficial social skill if they’re subtle. So long as the person doesn’t lose themselves in the process and is able to separate their personas from their true self, it remains a skill and will be used as such.

The problem with Rachel was that it transcended beyond a skill. A social chameleon was *what* she became, and that led to losing her own sense of identity, to becoming a stranger in her own body.

We see her confiding to Chloe about this feeling in Brave New World: (“Do you think there’s a point when you’ve been acting so much that you don’t even have your own personality anymore? You’re just whatever you think other people want you to be?”) —to which Chloe tells her she does have a personality because she assumed Rachel was talking about herself. But Rachel apparently wasn’t and clarifies she was talking about her father. She then elaborates on how her father doesn’t really exist, that how he was in the principal’s office was a mere performance and then the actual truth— that she’s afraid she’ll end up like him.

No matter how you interpret that scene, the conclusion is that one of Rachel’s fears was becoming like James— someone who’s been so wrapped up in all the lies and manipulation that he no longer seemed recognisable to even his own daughter.

At that point her defence mechanism of deflection and avoidance came into play after Chloe got a little too close to home. We first see this on the train scene when they play Two Truths and a Lie. Rachel gave factual statements as opposed to Chloe who gave facts that elaborated into her personal life. At one point Chloe can ask how Rachel knew about having a distal radius fracture and It’s a very minor detail, but when she explains that it’s because she broke her wrist when she was 10, she says it extremely fast. When Chloe is about to press for more info about something personal no matter what option you choose, Rachel dismissively turns around the conversation from herself back to Chloe again.

The next time we see her deflecting is right after witnessing her father cheating. When Chloe asks about her, Rachel deflects and guilt trips her into somehow thinking she’s at fault for failing to get them wasted and then proceeds to drown her sorrows into alcohol instead of opening up. Afterwards when they find the junkyard, Rachel chooses to isolate herself from Chloe and withdraws to the corner, getting irritated if Chloe chooses to invade her space. When Chloe confronts her about her sudden moodiness, Rachel yet again deflects and shifts the attention to Chloe by essentially telling her she’s self-centred. This scene was classic Deflection 101 brought by Rachel’s defence mechanism to cope with her father’s betrayal.

Rachel uses deflection and avoidance as a defence mechanism, a habit which stems from the dynamics of the Amber family. When you have a Politician as a father whose life work is to manipulate and lie, and a Stepford Wife as a mother who wilfully acts like a servant to her husband out of sacrifice and duty— an environment of deceit and suppression of one’s feelings will be fostered. This is what shapes Rachel to be distrusting and unhealthily altruistic as we see in BtS.

And so Rachel’s deflection is driven by 2 things: mistrust (James) and her unhealthy altruism (Rose).

As a district attorney, James unfortunately carried his work persona into his personal life and can be presumed to lie to even his own family on a daily basis to the point that Rachel can tell when he’s lying: (“When your Dad is the District Attorney, I guess lying is...something you're used to.”) (Why can't you just tell me the fucking truth?! Stop lying! Stop being a politician for one fucking minute! Can’t you just be my Dad?”) What that tells us is that Rachel’s actually used to being lied at and treated with cynicism, so naturally that would make her guarded around others. Not to mention since James often exercised his professional prerogative (just recall how he spoke to Chloe and her comment about his micro-aggressions towards his own family), it’s most likely that he was also cynical towards people in general and carried that mindset forward at Rachel as well.

As for Rose, you have to really observe how she carried herself and her choice of words. A lot of people pointed out how robotic she sounded and blamed it on bad voice acting, but I think that was actually intentional. She was too mannered, too submissive and too robotic as a person. It’s not exactly a bad thing, but a lot of her personality seemed to be too... *political* for the sake of her husband’s political career. It was altruistic in the way that she sacrificed her own needs for her husband’s and was unfailingly supportive (eg; preparing dinner all by herself, *respectfully* asking James for his drink, even going so far as to excuse James for kissing Sera like wtf). Point is, Rose was the stereotypical political wife whose job was to shut up, look good and smile for her husband while he does the talking. At one point in the dinner scene when they start fighting, James even dared to say ‘Rose, let me handle this’ as if Rose’s voice was irrelevant and unimportant to the table (when he literally just got exposed for cheating lmao).

So what happens when your family environment consists of a father who actively lies and uses manipulation to twist facts, expects you to be compliant in exchange for rewards (birthday money), has the ability to read people, and a mother who does too much for someone who does the barest minimum for the family and represses herself for the sake of others? An environment of deceit and suppression will be fostered, and you develop all of their qualities, for better or worse. That’s difficult to change when your own family dynamics molded you to be that way and then reward you for it. If you recall, Rachel’s mannerisms changed completely when in front of her family and if Chloe complained about having to play the goody two shoes formal well-behaved humorless girl, Rachel would say: ‘try doing it your whole life’. So not only was she playing different roles in school but evidently at home as well.

But It’s not as if the Amber family was aware of the toxic environment they’d created. That’s just what their normal was: to be well-mannered, formal, professional, mature and well-articulated.

This is where Rachel’s social chameleon tendencies develops. Social chameleons usually have reasons for blending in when it comes to personal relationships:

1. Being liked is important for them (they value what people think of them).

2. They want to blend in so as to not stand out (they don’t like attention).

3. They’re doing it to make the other person comfortable (the needs of others come first before theirs).

Considering how Rachel was extremely popular, active in all sorts of school activities and enjoyed the attention of being the star, no. 2 is out. She confessed to wanting to stop being a social chameleon and didn’t seem to care much about Victoria’s dislike of her + she also did it to her family so no. 1 is out as well, which leaves us to no. 3— doing it for the comfort of others. In other words, because she *gave too much shit about other people all the time*.

What further supports the point of Rachel’s unhealthy altruism is what she says to Chloe at the junkyard— (“Maybe you should try giving a shit about other people for once.”) —which essentially tells us that she’s been doing exactly that to be able to lecture Chloe into following her own perspective. Another example would be what she tells Chloe during their therapy session: “—Because she was tired of having to give so many fucks all the time.”

One thing however that all *extreme* social chameleons share is the fact that they **loathe** themselves, or at the very least— dislike who they are. Why else would they go all the trouble of creating different personas for everyone to the point of forgetting their own, if they actually liked themselves?

One of the many things that Chloe and Rachel shared in common was their self-awareness in how undeniably shitty they can be, and that they hated who they were. Whereas Chloe embraced that whole part of her down her self destructive road, Rachel tried to cover hers up by playing other roles for people. Both girls played their sides to the ends of the spectrum; Chloe being selfish (causing problems for everyone in general unnecessarily) and Rachel being selfless (posing no problem for anyone in general even if there was a problem). They had no healthy balance and their unhealthy mindset ultimately drove them down a self destructive path.

Rachel knew she was selfish by nature, and that she’d take it out on Chloe in Ep 1. That’s why instead of talking about what was wrong, she chose to drown herself to alcohol and distance herself from Chloe. When Chloe confronts her about it, she either tells her that not everything revolves around her or that she should try giving a shit about people for once. In other words, ‘Other people have bigger problems than you so shut up and don’t make it worse for them.’ That was Rachel’s mentality and in that moment of poor lapse in judgment, she applied that logic to Chloe expecting her to think the way she does— to put others before yourself.

With Rachel, she always had her walls up and couldn’t help it even if she wanted to because it's practically second nature to have her guard up (“I never said how dearly I hold thee; my habit's been to keep my soul well-draped.“). It’s only in her lowest vulnerable moments is when she finally let her walls down because that’s when she’s too tired to keep them up.

Luckily (or unluckily) for Rachel, she recognized her problem. The only thing is that she didn’t know how to solve them. She confided to Chloe about feeling like she doesn’t exist, but then backtracked and clarified she was talking about her dad instead when Chloe got too close to home. Even IF she was genuinely talking about her father, it doesn’t erase the fact that she believed there was a possibility she was going to become like him— because she already saw the signs and made the comparison between them.

Remember her infamous outbursts in Awake? Unlike Chloe, she’s the type who keeps everything bottled in until it’s too much. Seeing her father kissing another woman was the breaking point and that’s why she reacted badly. And then when she kicked that bin, that was equivalent to Chloe smashing up the junkyard. And then that scream. That scream was the result of years bottling her pent up frustration, stress, anger at everyone including herself. Because she did everything to make her family proud, to please everyone to the point that she felt so empty and hollow, only to realize that it was all for nothing because her father was destroying her family. It wasn’t just a betrayal from her father but a betrayal to herself.

And then there’s Chloe Price. The girl who is the total opposite of her, yet who she can somehow still connect with at the same time. While she cared too much about what others thought, Chloe gave absolutely no fucks. That was her most attractive and admirable quality for Rachel. So what does she do? She latches onto Chloe to do exactly what she knows best. Become the ideal version of whoever wants her to be. In other words, the Rachel Amber who would finally give no fucks.

Rachel was the closest to her truest self when she was around Chloe. Just as she brought life and hope back into the girl’s life, so did Chloe for her. Chloe broke the walls she put up, and she’d seen her vulnerable enough times to let her mask slip. Chloe saw her at her lowest, ugliest self even when she wasn’t doing her usual thing of keeping everyone around her happy, yet she didn’t mock or leave her for it. For the first time, she was selfish, and *still* Chloe came back. That was a BIG reason to trust each other for the both of them. And that’s ultimately what bonded them for so long— the fact that they could be the shittiest people on earth, yet still see the best in each other even if they only see the worst in themselves.

Chloe was the first one to see through her social chameleon act because she slipped, and she continued to let her unmask who she was because that night Rachel just didn’t care enough to hold up the act any longer. This detail of Rachel’s chameleon act slipping *only* when something was wrong is a vital part in understanding the context around her. The first time was when she witnessed her whole world crash, the second was when she realized she was becoming like James, and the third was when she discovered what a monster James was. The fourth— when she asked that trucker for a drive out and didn’t bother to be her usual social chameleon self. We may never know what happened, but something wrong was going on in Rachel’s life that she didn’t want Chloe to be a part of— because why would she put the girl who stuck by her during her darkest hours through her bullshit again?

But at the end of the day, that wasn’t enough. Chloe wasn’t enough. And that’s understandable because a teenager truly can’t and shouldn’t have to be responsible for someone else’s happiness. No matter what choice Chloe makes at the end of BtS, the truth inevitably gets out and leads to Rachel having a fall out with her parents. When that happened, she lost a big pillar of her support system which only leaves her with Chloe who’s another emotionally damaged teen that’s on the road to self-destruction. Chloe can’t help others without helping herself first. But still, who else is there to make them feel a little less shitty except each other?

After her fall out with her parents and her father in particular, she seemed to have developed a taste for men twice her age: Frank Bowers (32) and Mark Jefferson (38). Whatever the reason her relationship with Frank was, she still wrote him those letters and seemed to have cared for him to some extent. Not only was he the source for drugs for her very much needed escape, but he was also the man who helped save her life in one of her most vulnerable moments, and a possible lead to find Sera. It’s not that surprising she’d seek comfort and safety in his arms when he already proved himself once. But clearly it wasn’t serious because she was fooling around with Jefferson at the same time (and Frank knew they wouldn’t have lasted anyway).

Now, Jefferson. The devs confirmed that Rachel was in love with Jefferson and honestly, that’s the least surprising thing ever considering how he basically had the female population of Blackwell head over heels for him. Even Rachel wasn’t immune to that psychopath’s charm. He was a well reputable photographer, had the connections to propel her modeling career, was attractive and mysterious and apparently a damaged soul. He was the perfect one way ticket out of Arcadia Bay. He was her photographer and she was his muse. He was basically the perfect solution to her problems.

The girl clearly had deep rooted daddy issues and was ashamed of it herself since she couldn’t even share her secret relationship to the one person she trusted the most despite sharing her other relationships with her (except Frank).

This is where the drugs and partying come in. They’re a way for her to escape the bullshit in her life for a few hours. Chloe was what made her feel real, but the drugs and partying was what made her forget— forget that her biological mother chose drugs and money over her (twice), forget that her own father was so despicable that he was planning to overdose Sera (this is what Chloe said in the silent dialogue), forget that her biological mother may just be dead somewhere because of James, forget that her own family was a lie, forget all the expectations placed upon her, forget that she herself was a lie, forget that she was so insecure that she had to seek warmth and safety in the arms of men twice her age, forget the guilt of knowing the girl who would die for her was still not enough, forget that at the end of the day all her problems is caused by her own mind and that her own fears had come to reality. And she hated herself for that.

But still, Rachel wasn’t a total junkie or outwardly self destructive to the point that she abandoned her studies like Chloe did. She didn’t let the drugs and partying dictate her life, hence the 4.0 GPA. After all, she still had a reputation to maintain. She was still the DA’s daughter, and getting into college was still a way to get out of Arcadia Bay.

BUT SEE, that was exactly Rachel’s problem. She could never choose which to be; The Problematic Junkie of a Disappointment (Sera), or the Golden Child (James & Rose) everyone expected her to be. She wanted to be as free as Chloe, but she also didn’t want to be a disappointment. She was tired of everything but couldn’t allow herself to fall because it was her nature to demand the best of herself for others as long as she could do it. But what happens when it’s your very own nature you’re going against? It gets really complicated. So instead of choosing, she doesn’t and becomes both. That was ultimately the worst decision she ever made.

Make no mistake, Rachel was an absolute idiot for being so indecisive. She could have easily solved her problems if she just finally gave no shit and did whatever she wanted to. But that’s the problem with people who’re labeled as perfect growing up. They eventually believe it and demand perfection of themselves. They care too much about everything because if they have the ability to be perfect, then why would you choose not to be? When someone is seen to be perfect, disappointment is 10x worse. Even Chloe was guilty of idealizing Rachel to be this perfect girl and was disappointed when she realized Rachel was just like everyone else who puts in hard work—(“Rachel's always made being an A student seem so easy. Almost sad to see all this... effort."), but it’s Chloe accepting Rachel for who she was despite no longer being the perfect girl she believed her to be that mattered.

With being seen as perfect usually comes with the assumption that your whole life is. Just as everyone invalidated her problems because she’s Little Miss Perfect with the perfect grades and the seemingly perfect family, so did she.

‘Cause hey, what does she have to be mad about when she’s a rich white girl who’s been given everything she’s ever wanted, right? (James basically said that). At that point the only problem Rachel had was that she was acting as the perfect daughter and perfect friend and perfect student at the expense of her own happiness, and then throw in the sudden slap in the face that it was all for nothing because her father was destroying the family she’d tried so hard to do proud.

But then again even if that wasn’t enough reason to spiral, it really would mess you up if your own father told you that your biological mother chose money and drugs over you, that everything you’ve done so far was all for a lie and worst of all, that your own father was going to kill your biological mother and there’s nothing you can do to change that. I mean really, I’m not a therapist or anything but I wouldn’t be surprised if Rachel’s mental health was suffering by that point.

I mean get this: she abused drugs and partied harder than anyone else and got wasted even though she knew they were wrong (Sera would’ve been a painful reminder), slept around with older men who undoubtedly took advantage and controlled her, continued to act like the perfect student and pretended to be someone she’s not just to keep everyone happy even though it was causing her to question her own existence— it’s almost as if she was punishing herself for continuing down that path.

Ultimately what Rachel was running away from was who she had become in Arcadia Bay. Once she’d be out, she wouldn’t be Little Miss Perfect anymore. She wouldn’t be the DA’s daughter. She wouldn’t have to keep lying. She would be able to start over. She would just be Rachel Amber, the nobody.

She cared too much in contrast to Chloe’s ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude, and that’s why she still managed to maintain her perfect image even when she was already so broken. Whereas Chloe’s first instinct was to blame others, Rachel’s was to blame herself. Both never had a healthy balance when it came to accepting responsibility and that’s what connected them so well together.

Call it selflessness or selfishness or stupidity or melodrama, but at the end of the day Rachel tried to keep everyone around her happy, just like Max tried to do with her powers except Rachel used lies to do it. She was greedy and selfish, no disagreement to that, but she also tried to be selfless for most of her life. She was her own enemy and she demonized herself for it. And that got her murdered, thrown and buried away like the used rag doll she treated herself to be.

She was Chloe’s angel and Chloe was hers, but she was also her own demon. And there’s only so much two broken angels can do against a demon.

**TL;DR:** Idealizing her to be the Perfect Girl was what made her want to run away. Her family was what broke her. Desperation for escape was what killed her. Her family just *really* suck.

Now, I’m not trying to justify Rachel’s actions but merely rationalizing her character. I acknowledge that she was capable of being a shitty person at times, but just as Chloe had her issues, so did she, and so I choose to see them both for what they tried to be. Good hearted people just trying to make their shitty life a little easier. At the end of the day, Rachel Amber was a deeply flawed, insecure and emotionally damaged girl that pretended like nothing was wrong to forget about her troubles for a little, and was just dealt a bad hand in life. Literally.

After writing all of this, I realize that holy shit this girl was fucking complicated and a single post doesn’t do her justice nor explains her character properly enough. I thought it’d be simple enough to word it out, but then again, someone who was basically a junkie yet still managed to maintain her perfect reputation amongst her peers and the faculty is bound to be this complexed. Also as you can see I got very lazy at the middle of the elaborations and repetition has probably made this unnecessarily long but thank you for reading and finishing this overall confusing and messy essay.

#life is strange #amberprice #chloeprice #rachelamber #analysis #meta #I posted this on Reddit n it got a nice reception #so here it is on tumblr #yk just to stay true to what this blog was supposed to b lmao

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resonating-kitty · 3 years

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I spent the last two days writing this little.... uh... I don’t think I’d call it a gem tbh. XD

Just some head-canon ideals that were swimming around in my head about the Dream SMP storyline and how many paths it could go down. And my hands slipped, as they have been known to do.

I would just like to preface this by saying that I am sorry! LOL

Final Word Count: 2,884

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Implied Reference to Suicide, and Character Death

A03 Link

Exile.

Tommy sat on the beach, staring vacantly out over the raging ocean. Dark swirling clouds rolled over head and the wind whipped around him, chilling him but he made no move to head for cover. He was paler, skinnier. His clothes were in tatters. Dark circles were visible under his eyes. The spark that usually lit up his bright blue eyes was gone. Nothing remained.

His exile had taken its toll and every day his isolation ate away more and more of him. He longed to see his home again. He longed to see the land he knew and loved so much. Most importantly, he missed Tubbo.

Tubbo, who was supposed to stand by him, unwavering and loyal, and yet. Yet here he sat. Exiled and alone.

A twig snapped somewhere behind him. Well not completely alone.

“Tommy” Dream’s voice was nearly drowned out by the wind but Tommy still heard him.

Tommy felt the other’s presence materialize behind him. Knew that if he turned to look, the green hoodie cladded figure would be stepping from the shadows. That infuriating white smiley mask regarding him.

“The storm is getting closer Tommy,” Dream spoke again, closer this time.

“I don’t care.” Tommy replied, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the raging waters. Nearly everyday since his exile, Dream had materialized to taunt him. Reminded him that he was truly alone and that he would not see his home again.

“You do.” Dream insisted and Tommy felt the weight as the hand landed on his shoulder. “You do care. Get up Tommy.”

Tommy doesn’t know why he obeyed, he doesn’t want to obey but he pushed himself to his feet and turned to glare weakly at Dream.

“Don’t be like that,” Dream says and Tommy can hear the smile in his voice, the sheer amusement, “We’re friends Tommy come on.”

Tommy lets himself be led away from the raging waves of the ocean and toward Logstedshire’s sturdy walls. Dream guided him as if he were some poor pitiful peasant. The anger that tried to ignite within him was quickly washed away. After all, as Dream had so eloquently put it days before, what was his anger going to solve? He’d been truly abandoned by his friends, left to rot in strange lands. He had no one anymore. No one except a ghost with no memories, and even Wilbur abandoned him to return to L’Manburg for days on end, and Dream, a demon who constantly taunted him and appeared in his nightmares night after night.

Dream was the only true constant in his life. His only connection to a world he was no longer a part of. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Dream was the only thing that kept him from losing what small thread of sanity he had left.

Logstedshire was quiet when they entered, the walls blocked the wind, creating a safe haven from the nasty weather approaching. Tommy was led to the barrels and he plopped down heavily onto one. He watched, warily, as Dream meandered about, inspecting the area. He watched as the green man walked over to the signs he’d hung up. His to-do list.

“Blaze powder.” He heard Dream mumble to himself before the green man turned to address him, “You hunting for blaze powder Tommy? Why would you need blaze powder?”

“Oh you know, the same reason anyone else would need blaze powder, drugs obviously,” Tommy snarked, averting his gaze. Dream had been doing that too. Showing up and asking him what he had, making him throw his belongings in the dirt and making him watch as they were destroyed. Keeping him at rock bottom. Little did Dream know, Tommy succeeded with that item on his to-do list. He had gotten the blaze powder and made the enderchest. It was hidden beneath the prime log.

“Really?” Dream didn’t seem convinced. Tommy saw where this was going before the man even spoke his next words, “Well then, you wouldn’t be opposed to emptying your inventory on the ground then would you?”

“Why?” Tommy asked, hopping off the barrel. He’d done this dance with Dream many times before. Was so used to it that he didn’t even flinch when Dream drew his sword.

“You know why.” Dream said, exasperated, stepping closer, “Empty your inventory Tommy or I will kill you.”

“No you won’t” Tommy sighed. It was a bluff. He had figured that out a bit ago. Dream wouldn’t kill him because Dream wouldn’t be able to taunt him anymore if he were dead. Wouldn’t be able to make his life a living hell anymore. He’d learned this after the first time he was allowed in the Nether, with Dream trailing behind him. He’d been allowed to go to the hub that led to his home but Dream would not let him through, promising to kill him if he stepped foot inside that portal. That’s when he’d contemplated it the first time. Contemplated just throwing himself off the edge of the pathway to the awaiting lava below. Dream had appeared at his side, grabbed his arm and pulled him back, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “It’s not your time to die yet Tommy.”

“I will,” Tommy was brought from his thoughts as Dream all but purred and stalked closer, pressing the blade of the sword right under his chin. They stood, staring at each other, as the first streak of lightning flashed overhead.

“Just do it.” Tommy sighed. He was so tired of playing this game. He looked up, his blue eyes boring holes into the white mask that started back at him, and said, “Kill me. End it all.”

“I didn’t know that even you could swoop this low mate,” A new voice sounded, causing Dream to immediately shove away from Tommy. Tommy stumbled back, catching himself on the barrels. He and Dream turned toward the entrance of Logstedshire, his eyes widening in shock as Dream’s frame tensed.

Leaning against the outer wall, stood Philza. His black wings were folded tightly against his back. He held a sword loosely in hand. His blue gaze was focused intently on Dream.

“Thought you were neutral in this Philza,” Dream remarked, hard edge to his voice now. Danger seemed to radiate from his form, turning the air around him heavy.

“Oh I am,” Philza smiled, pushing himself from the wall. He walked into Logstedshire, glancing briefly at Tommy before focusing back on Dream, “However, torturing a child is just a bit too much for me to ignore. Even if that child is Tommy.”

“Gee thanks Philza,” Tommy mumbled, sarcastically.

“Shush child or I will leave,” Philza warned and Tommy clicked his mouth shut.

“You’re going to leave anyway,” Dream ordered, swirling his sword in his hand.

“Am I?” Philza smirked, flaring his wings out. A challenge.

“Yes you are. Or else you’re going to meet your end.” Dream promised as light rain started to fall from the sky.

“I’d like to see you try mate,” Philza tensed, readying himself.

Lightning flashed overhead and Dream struck. Philza brought his sword up, just in time to parry the blow. Tommy watched, horrified, as the two men lunged at one another. Clashing over and over again.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Dream lunged and lunged, backing Philza back with every thrust and blow. Philza sidestepped on one of the blows, sending Dream stumbling past him and into the wall of Logstedshire. Dream quickly recovered, dodging just in time to avoid the downward swing of a sword.

“Not bad,” Philza grinned, twirling his sword and dropping into a stance. A bit of hope sparked within Tommy as he watched Philza face off with Dream. If anyone could defeat the green bastard, it would be Philza. He had experience. Knew how to fight. Was friends with the literal Blood God himself.

“Hm.” Tommy’s gaze slid over to Dream. He knew that Dream was pissed. The way he stood rigidly, knuckle tight grip on the hilt of the sword. Tommy figured that this might just be the first time that Dream had to face an adversary that could potentially outplay him at his own game.

The hope that had started to sprout within Tommy grew just a little bit more, until Dream started to chuckle softly.

“Philza, Philza, Philza,” Dream started in between his bouts of chuckling, “Do you honestly think you stand a chance against me?” All at once, the whole air seemed to shift with some sort of unseen power.

Philza frowned, his brow creasing and his eyes narrowing as if he could see something that Tommy couldn’t. His wings spread out, readying for flight. Dream dashed forward, faster than any human. Philza took to the sky just in time to avoid the attack.

“Now Philza,” Dream growled as a crossbow materialized in his other hand, “You know flying isn’t allowed here!” He aimed and fired repeatedly, multiple bolts appearing.

Philza twisted and turned, diving and skirting. Dodging some of the arrows while deflecting others with his sword. He flew closer to the trees, letting the branches take the brunt of the arrows. Unfortunately, he lost sight of Dream and heard, too late, the tale-tell whoosh of Dream teleporting directly behind him.

Pain laced across his wings, causing Philza to shout out in pain. His sword clattered to the ground and he plummeted, landing heavily in a heap just feet from Tommy.

“Philza!” Tommy screamed, horrified. Blood coated Philza’s back, feathers hanging crookedly from where they’d been cut.

Dream landed from the tree with a heavy thud. He stalked to where Philza laid unmoving.

“Dream. Dream don’t!” Tommy pleaded, dropping down to his knees as Dream raised the sword, readying to drive it home. “Dream! Please don’t!”

Dream’s head snapped up, as if he’d forgotten Tommy was even there. He said nothing. Tommy watched, frozen to the spot as Dream raised the sword a bit higher, poised both his hands on the hilt.

“No!!!” Tommy screamed as lightning flashed and Dream drove the sword down, straight into Philza. Philza’s eyes snapped open and a silence scream escaped him.

The ground shook with the force of the thunder that rumbled. Tears slipped down Tommy’s face. He gazed unseeingly at Philza’s still body. He didn’t even notice when Dream yanked his sword free and moved toward him.

The hand that landed on his shoulder startled him, his gaze shot up to the masked man. Fear bubbled deep in his gut as Dream leaned down slightly, just enough to whisper in his ear, “Let this be a lesson. I am your only friend.”

Dream leaves him. Completely disappearing into the shadows once again.

Tommy crawled over to Philza’s sprawled body. Sobs racked his body as he wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in the junction.

“Tommy,” Tommy’s head snapped up at the sound of Philza’s voice.

“Phil! Oh gods! Oh gods! What do I need to do? Should I get a health potion?” Tommy panicked. “Wait! I think Will has some stashed around here somewhere.” he made to get up but was stopped as Philza’s hand shot out to grab his wrist.

“Won’t do any good mate” Philza wheezed, a slight smile on his face, “I don’t have much time so I need you to listen to me.” Tommy settled back down beside Philza. He was released and watched as Philza reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crimson stone that just fit in the palm of one’s hand. The stone was glowing dully, pulsing every few seconds.

“Do you know what this is?” Philza asked and Tommy shook his head. He truly had no idea.

Philza chuckled, “I figured. This is a blood stone.”

“Blood?” Tommy interrupted, “Phil don’t tell me that’s from Technoblade!”

“Hush,” Philza sighed, “The blood stone was a gift from Techno. When my heart stops beating, it will shatter. And Techno will come. You go with him. Make him take you with him Tommy. I know you two haven’t always seen eye to eye but you need him right now. He is your only hope to escape that green demon. Promise me. Promise me you’ll do that for me, Tommy.”

“It’s Techno! He’s more liable to kill me than to help me!” Tommy argued.

“You’re my son.” Philza stated, his breath hitching slightly, “Techno won’t harm you. Tommy, promise me.”

Tommy regarded his father. His father who was quickly slipping from the land of the living. His eyes flicked down to the equally dying blood stone. “I promise.” He mumbled.

“That’s my boy,” Philza smiled, eyes slipping shut. Seconds later his body fell still. In his palm, the blood stone gave one final glowing pulse before it shattered.

The rain grew heavier, until it was pelting down in sheets, soaking everything. Tommy sat unmoving, eyes staring blankly at Philza’s body. He didn’t notice the rain or when he became soaked to the bone. He barely paid any attention to the chill that was starting to creep in, causing him to shiver slightly.

He also didn’t notice the galloping sound of an approaching horse. Didn’t notice when the horse was stopped nor when the figure stepped into the mouth of Logstedshire. He finally noticed, starting violently, when a pair of boots appeared in his peripheral vision.

Tommy looked up and was greeted by the sight of the Blood God. He was adorned in his royal blood red robe and the signature pig mask that he never took off. His long, pale pink hair whipped around violently in the wind and the crown that sat atop his head glittered faintly in the torch light. The heavy scent of blood lingered faintly in the air. His hand rested loosely on the hilt of his sword, tapping it periodically with long fingers.

Silence hung between them, Techno not speaking and, for once, Tommy had nothing to say. His words had been taken from him and Tommy just hung his head when it was apparent that Techno was not going to speak.

They stayed like that for a few more moments before Techno moved. Tommy found himself gently being lifted from the ground as if he weighed nothing at all, which he supposed he didn’t, not now anyway. He didn’t even fight it as Techno carried him over to the small shack that Wilbur had built for him and settled him under the overhang, out of the rain.

Tommy’s eyes widened in shock when the blood red robe was settled across his shoulders and tucked against his shivering body. Warmth swaddled him and he all but melted against it. He watched Techno move across the yard. A sharp whistle sounded and moments later a demon looking horse was trotting into the space. Techno went to the creature, untying a shovel from the saddlebag.

Wordlessly, Techno started to dig a grave. Tommy watched until exhaustion overtook him and he couldn’t stop his eyes from slipping closed. The last thing he saw before falling unconscious was Technoblade waist deep in the makeshift grave.

When Tommy woke up, he was momentarily confused. He was wrapped in warmth and felt safer than he’d felt in weeks. It took only seconds for the pleasantness of the feeling to be washed away by the horror of the events of the previous evening. Tommy sat up sharply, finding himself on the makeshift bed in the shack with Techno’s robe thrown over him like a blanket.

His heart was racing and his breath was coming in short pants. His hands buried themselves in his too long blond hair and a sob tore itself from his throat. Philza, his father, was dead. Dead by the hands of Dream. Dead because of him. Because he’d been too weak to resist Dream’s will. If he’d just jumped on that day Dream let him go to the Nether-

That train of thought was stopped abruptly as the door to the shack was thrown open and Technoblade walked in.

“Tears won’t make it better.” Tommy laughed humorlessly. Of all the words that Techno could’ve said, those weren’t something that Tommy expected to hear.

“What will then?” Tommy questioned, gazing down at the robe. He felt more than saw Techno draw closer. He watched as the other reached out and pulled the cloak from his loose grasp. Tommy looked up, gaze lost as he stared at the older man, looking for some sort of answer, “What will make it better Technoblade?”

Techno smirked and leaned down so he was eye level with Tommy before saying, simply, “Revenge.”

It started clicking into place as Tommy sat there, staring into the pig mask’s eyes. The old flame that had been extinguished, burst back to life. The chaos within him rose to the surface.

And Techno, as if he could see what was happening, laughed and straightened up, offering his hand out for Tommy to take. “What do you say, Child of Chaos, ready to cause some destruction?”

A smile lit Tommy’s face for the first time in weeks. It was a cruel thing as he reached out and gripped Techno’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Let’s go kill us a Green Bastard.”

#mcyt fanfiction #dream smp #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #philza #philza minecraft #technoblade #kitty writes #tw: blood #tw: implied reference to suicide #tw: character death #my hands slipped

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 7: The Invisible Cage

Chapters: 7/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG

Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now),

Characters: Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags: A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary: Loki and his servant discuss the nature of freedom.

You found yourself hiding in your apartment for several hours that day. Loki had gotten a call-the first you could remember-and had instantly bid you leave his presence. In fact, he said he would have preferred you leave the building altogether, but it was suddenly pouring outside, so you'd opted to hide out in your room instead.

You didn't know what would cause him to act that way, but you'd tried to use the time to take a nice relaxing nap. But the sound of rushing wind had rattled the tower, and someone had entered Loki's apartment without bothering to be quiet about it.

Shortly after that, the shouting had begun.

So much for napping.

You opened your door just a crack, and peered out into the round living space down the hall.

Thor was there.

THE Thor, the God of Thunder himself, the only man you'd ever thought might make a good case for monarchy.

He was pacing back and forth in front of Loki, gesticulating broadly, both of them speaking in raised voices. You didn't understand the language at all, it was round and bouncy, with long rolled R's, and rock hard consonants. They didn't seem to be fighting; this was not a shouting match with each other. This looked like shared anger, a common indignance over some other subject.

They discussed loudly with one another, Thor standing across from Loki, around the little table where you shared meals. He was drawing something in a note book, tapping the paper for emphasis, while Loki took up the pen and drew something else. Eventually, the loudness died down, both men becoming absorbed in whatever plan or problem they were going over, and you hid back away in your rooms, satisfied that there wasn't going to be a fight.

They were more than a little frightening when they shouted. There was power in those ancient voices, and it jellied your insides. What must it have been like for people, hundreds of years ago, to hear these beings speak? It wasn't surprising that bygone societies had been built around them.

Thor left eventually, with grim laughter, but seemingly on good terms. When you slunk back out into the hallway, Loki remained at the table, writing in his notebook. He seemed tense, but not angry.

“So...” You started. Loki blew out a long breath.

“I desire some kind of sweet confection.” He said. “If you do not already know how, please learn to make some kind of cake or cookie, and then do so.”

“And then...”

“And then eat some with me.”

Dismissal then. So be it. He'd tell you, or he wouldn't, what business was it of yours?

It was time to level up. It was time to learn how to make cookies.

******

You knew that if this were a movie, or TV show, smoke would billow out once you opened that oven, and your cookies would all be burnt. But that's not what this was, and your cookies were actually fine. A little flat and crispy around the edges, but perfectly tasty. Loki seemed to take extra pleasure in their crunchiness, a detail you filed away for later. He was still agitated, but it was like a swift current at the bottom of a calm stream. You found yourself a bit afraid to step in.

“What do you think freedom is?” He asked abruptly. He'd been back into his extra-long-titled philosophy books again. You'd been trying to convince him to move on from Keirkegaard, but the existentialism spoke to him.

He'd had you sit with him next to his huge fireplace, and sing a few times now, and he even translated excerpts from his books for you in order to discuss them with you. He liked your somewhat cynical, layman's view on these lofty subjects, even seemed to find validity in your sometimes frustrated “I don't know, why should it matter?” answers. This time you thought about it for a while.

“I think it doesn't actually exist. It's an unobtainable idea.” You said.

“Care to expand?”

“Well, okay. So what is freedom? That's a really tough question, right? Like, for some people, its 'not being discriminated against because of skin color' or something like that. For others, it as simple as financial stability. But both of those have something in common with what I think is the average definition, which is 'not being beholden to capricious authority figures'. But is that even possible? I mean, say you're a king.

Not literally!” You exclaimed, as Loki opened his mouth. “But as a king, there's supposedly no higher power than you in all the land, right? But...you also have responsibilities. Burdens. You have to rule, and you have to do it well, or you won't be king for long. You still, in some part, owe your time and effort to the people you rule. You aren't free. You can't just do whatever you want, whenever you want. The people won't put up with it. Eventually, they'll rise up an overthrow you, maybe even kill you. It happened a lot.

But if you go with the Divine Right idea, even though you're telling the peasants that they have to do whatever you say because it's God's will, it's still admitting that you answer to a higher power. Therefore, you are not free, because you are under the authority of a deity and supposedly have to abide by their rules and doctrines. If you don't, your Divine right to rule may be revoked and again, if you have ruled poorly, you'll be overthrown and killed.

You can't even reach freedom by removing yourself from the chains of society. Take yourself off to some deserted place with no other people around, and you can do whatever you want, right? Except you still have to eat. You still need shelter. You still have to spend a lot of time dealing with those things. You are still trapped by the laws of nature. Try to defy them, and you will be killed.

Even in death...either there's no afterlife, and you just stop existing at all, and therefore can't engage in concepts such as freedom, or there is an afterlife, but it follows the rules of the god who created it, and you have to follow those rules while you're there. There's no such thing as true freedom. It can't be achieved.”

“How does that make you feel?” Loki asked softly.

You shrugged. “Not as frustrated as I should, I guess. I don't feel strongly about it. What am I supposed to do about it, rebel?”

“Isn't that what your parents did?”

“Yeah, and they're both dead!” You exclaimed. Loki fell quiet.

“I'm sorry.” You said. “It's just that everyone who finds out about them expects me to be like them, but I'm just not. I'm not their opposite, but I'm not...them.”

“What happened to them?” He inquired. “I don't actually know about them, save for what you have alluded to.”

“You have a phone, right? Look up the 'Joyful Liberation Compound'. I'll clean up these cookies.”

You washed the dishes and cleaned up all the flour and crumbs. When you joined him at the table again, he was staring at his phone, expression grim.

“Yeah.” You said.

“You are the only survivor.” He stated.

“Yeah, because I ran away when I turned seventeen. Had to smuggle myself out in the back of a supply truck. They didn't let us back outside once we came in. Only very carefully vetted individuals, high in the pecking order were allowed back into the outside world, and then only to recruit or bring back supplies that we couldn't create at the compound. 'Liberation' was right in the name, but we were very Not Free.”

“Brave little thing.” Loki said. “It must have been very difficult to make that choice.”

“We joined when I was fifteen.” You said. “I was only there for two years. Not like the other kids, who were raised there, or spent most of their lives there. They didn't know anything else. Now they never will.”

“Your government baffles me sometimes.” Loki said. “Billionaire slavers are elevated rather than criminalized, yet they're perfectly prepared to raze an entire compound to the ground? With everyone inside? Even the children?”

“They were an accelerationist cult.” You pointed out. “They thought the end of American civilization was coming, and that they were supposed to help bring it about.”

“And your government is full of dominionists and fascists.” Loki pointed back. “This seems nothing more than one civil deconstructionist cult destroying the competition while it is still small.”

“Yeah, it sucks all around.” You agreed heatedly. “That's what happens when you have one set of laws for a favored class of people, and another for everyone else. The scum rises to the top and then chokes out everyone else...Sorry.”

Loki regarded you sourly. “You speak very freely, brave thing.”

“Is it different where you come from?” You asked.

“Yes, actually. We have an unbroken line of succession that oversees a thriving and prosperous culture, kept that way by firm, yet judicious leaders.”

“You tried to take over a whole planet by force!”

“I intended to fix your crumbling infrastructure and even out your unbelievable inequality issues.” Loki insisted.

“By enslaving us all? Making us all equally subservient to you?”

“There is a difference between bravery and foolishness.” He warned. “I meant to rule as a benevolent god. You do not wish to see me vengeful!”

You snapped your mouth shut. His Alpha scent intensified when he exerted his personality, but it was the power in his voice that shivered through you.

You hated that. You hated it. The scent made you so uncomfortable, dredged up so many tainted memories. And the vocal power of an Old God squelched your spirit. You sat, still and quiet, practically radiating resentment.

After a few moments of extremely uncomfortable silence, Loki sighed.

“It would not have worked.” He admitted. “My intentions were not pure. I would certainly have tried, yes, I would have given my best effort, but there were...other...factors.”

“What other factors?” You asked. Hadn't your real boss, the one that paid you, the Tony Stark one, asked you to find out things about this exact subject?

Also, you were curious. What was the secret? What had brought the great god Loki low?

His mouth opened and then closed. No sound came out. As you watched in growing confusion, his face began to twitch, twisting into a grimace, his eyes filling with frustration. Breath hissed through bared teeth, his fists clenching over the armrests of his wheelchair. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Loki? Loki! Stop!” You exclaimed. “Stop, you don't have to! Stop!”

Loki let out a groan of pain, then shoved you away when you grabbed his hand. You fell right on your rear.

“Get out of here!” Loki roared. “Get out of my sight, and do not show your face again today!”

You scrambled to your feet and rushed to your apartment, slamming the door behind you. Your organs felt like water, as you slid down the back of your door, flinching at the sounds of destruction coming from outside.

What was that? What had just happened? Did it hurt him to try to speak of what happened to him? It had seemed like some painful, physical battle. You fumbled for your phone and called your real boss.

#betathetaandme #loki (marvel)#loki x reader #tw: cult mention #tw: death mention

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inkdemonapologist · 4 years

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Okay but I do actually want to know both the things you love and the things you could rant about from DCTL?

OH BOY UHHHHHH okay lets see, I'm gonna see if I can do the "add a readmore after you post it" thing and see if that'll keep it stable.......

But also, much like Sammy, I am incapable of shutting up unless you strike me in the head with a blunt object, so uh, forgive my wordiness:

THINGS I ENJOY:

- DCTL gave us Sammy's ink addiction and like, if you had asked me before all this "what would you most like to see in a franchise?" I would not have answered "one of the characters drinks ink accidentally and then discovers that he can't stop" but boy that sure is my favourite concept that I LOVE to see handled literally any other way than how the book handled it!!!

- I like what it added to Tom and Allison and Norman!! Like, it's not big twists on their characters or anything -- we already knew Tom felt he was doing the wrong thing, so getting to see his CRUSHING GUILT over creating the machine isn't New Information, but it's nice to see and understand more of him; for all of them I feel a lot more attached to them after getting to see more of them as people.

- Like 90% of the "I LOVE IT" category for me is how the book handled Joey, and Buddy's relationship with Joey. The way Joey isn't a Sinister Mastermind Who’s Just Screwing With Everyone but just manipulative in a more mundane way -- someone who thinks of himself as just the guy with the vision to call the shots; he wants what he wants and this is how he's learned to get it; he exploits people not through devious schemes, but just by offering them something that they want or need and asking too much in return, expecting their loyalty for his favours. And the way he interacts with Buddy, making Buddy complicit with him and keeping Buddy off-balance and insecure while making him a favourite and treating him as Special is just PERFECT -- gives a lot of content to kind of extrapolate off of when pondering what must've drawn the others in and convinced them to ignore the red flags. I was initially frustrated with the idea of Buddy not being an artist and jUST DECIDING TO LEARN TO ANIMATE ON THE SPOT ("I've never done this before but I'm sure I can just do an artist's job" is a weirdly common throwaway thing in media and as an artist iTS A PET PEEVE) but actually the way they use his plagiarism to make him trapped in a lie in ways Joey doesn't even realise ends up being a neat echo of other employees (coughTOMcough), who were involved in much graver sins but suddenly felt they couldn't object or they'd lose their one chance, just like Buddy. There's a lot here that I think is really great.

OKAY THATS THE GOOD STUFF, LET'S COMPLAIN ABOUT SAMMY:

- Uncomfortable Bigotry Vagueness that we all knew was gonna be in this list -- I dunno man, a guy committing a microaggression and getting startled and defensive when he's called out for it doesn't necessarily completely ruin his character I GUESS, but the way this was handled is just SO WEIRD AND VAGUE that it's uncomfortable and it doesn't seem to serve any real purpose. "Is Tom black?" is a question I actually have to ask because the text sort of implies he is while also dancing around it and apparently Word of God said he's not??? which makes Buddy's comment nonsensical???? And I mean, you could go that route, since Buddy wonders to himself if Sammy talks to everyone like this -- HE ACTUALLY DOES!! Even within the text of the novel, he uses "Joey" instead of Mr. Drew, which is consistent with his audiologs in the game -- but that makes the writing suggest "this character THINKS this guy might be racist but actually they're reading too much into it and it wasn't racially motivated at all, he's just a jerk!!" wHICH IS SOMEHOW EVEN MORE ICKY??? Anyway like yeah I guess it's not inconsistent with his character that while Sammy Lawrence may not have any specific grudge against minorities he has probably not checked his privilege or done the work to challenge his own internal biases, but “Your Fav Probably Contributes To Systemic Racism In Ways He Hasn’t Considered, As Do We All When Our Assumptions Go Unchecked” is still a wild thing to wade through in a fun story about demonic cartoons

- but yknow so is T H E H O L O C A U S T

- Sammy's voice is wrong. I'm actually okay with him being a weird awkward asshole, I already kind of assumed he was and that's part of why I like him!! but there's so many places he doesn't quite... talk like himself? And not just in terms of word choice, like -- so in his monologue at the end, he's described as talking so quickly that his words are "tumbling out faster than he can speak them," which initially seems fine; like yeah, that's a Standard Scene we're familiar with, the person who's been Driven Mad With Insight becoming more and more manic as they try to convey it -- until I tried to imagine it and realised that Sammy doesn't talk like this. That's a really consistent quality I always notice about his voice; whether he's almost giddily excited in prophet mode, or he’s his irritated and overworked human self, or he's violently angry and his voice has that echo effect -- he always speaks very deliberately. He enunciates carefully. There's some circumstances where I'd buy this as showing that he's Not Himself, but I feel like those would kind of need to be in the middle of his transformation, not at the end of it.

- In fact a lot of the scenes with Sammy kind of have this feeling -- that it's not necessarily an exploration of Sammy as a character, but that he is filling a trope or archetype role here. Once he's fully transformed he excitedly describes the process as more of a mental compulsion, which is in contrast to his weird yeerk-infected behaviour when trying to get ink from Miss Lambert. Both of those scenes don't seem wrong on their own because they fit tropes we know -- but they feel weird when you try to fit them together.

- I also just in general am not a fan of the ink acting like a weird yeerk. It can be a parasite I guess but when it starts overwriting and puppeting people and crawling around to enter their body that's just a completely DIFFERENT kind of supernatural story and it’s not what im here for!!!

- THE FREAKIN!!! HE WILL SET US FREE!!!! WHY????????? SAMUEL LAWRENCE WHAT IS HE SETTING YOU FREE FROM??????? Sammy has No Motive for any of what he's doing, other than just Ink Made Me Do It. The whole thing that was INTERESTING about Sammy as a character is the contrast between this frustrated, ornery musician with no specific love for the cartoons he works on, and the manically devoted cultist he becomes. What happened in the middle there? What made him desperate enough to shift his mindset so much? "Something supernatural made him do things that don't benefit him in any way" is a very boring answer to this question!!! Susie was a victim who implies that her transformation has forced her to do things she didn't want to do, but we can still see her motive -- she wanted to be Alice, so she took a sketchy offer to try to get what she wanted. Even now, her violence echoes that goal -- to be a more perfect Alice. What did Sammy want? WHO KNOWS. Even in his ink-addled state at the end, we don't understand what he hopes the Ink Demon will even do for him, and in fact he seems to be responsible for creating the very scenario he's begging Bendy to reverse in the game.

- [sighs loudly into my hands]

- Overall I'm left wondering if the author just..... didn't like Sammy Lawrence? And I don't mean that in the sense of him being a rude jerk -- like, Joey is not a good person, but the author seems to be interested in him and in what makes him tick. There doesn't seem to be that same interest in Sammy. Sammy's role in the story is that of a monster, transformed into something murderous, unable to prevent or choose it. He's not a victim of anyone but the ink, no one had to manipulate him or figure out how his brain worked or what he wanted or what he feared or give him any reason to do the things he does -- ink got in his mouth and overwrote his personality. And we don't even get to see that change, not really. He starts out angry and defensive and continues being angry and defensive up until his very last scene, denying his ink-stealing but not really much else. We see all his prophetic sketches but we never see hints of this in him, we never see him start to act more excited and hopeful, we never see him seek out the demon he desires to please. Why do we never see Sammy struggling between his dismissive angry front and a building religious fervour he can't quite suppress? We don't get to see any of the in-between. There's no interest at all in why or even what it looked like as Sammy became what he became, when, to be honest, I suspect interest in precisely that is one reason he's such a big fav.

- It's funny, in a "cries into my hands" kind of way, when Sammy is just knocked in the head while monologuing and immediately removed from the story without further mention, like...... that sure is the pattern with him, isn't it, he just tries very very hard and never actually gets to matter, but it also fits right in here, too, in this book that doesn't want to think about his motives -- he rambles nonsensically, explaining nothing, gets one trademark phrase, and then is hastily removed so the story doesn't have to think about him anymore.

...................I think that's most of it.

...

Y'all............ I'm not ready for Sent From Above.......... I'm just not.... I'm not emotionally ready...... like..... Sammy has to be in that right..... he’s Susie’s boss and she has that big crush on him..................................... I’m not ready

#i know you have questions you always do #we all write on the walls #hopefully I have not gotten completely confused on any of these points but LMAO ITS POSSIBLE

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julemmaes · 4 years

Text

His love beside him

“When are you going to realize that I don’t care about you?“

Thomas Lightwood and Alastair Carstairs angst os

OH BOY, I MEAN

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH BUT I GOTTA KEEP HURTING THEM AND I’M NOT THAT BRAVE TO END ‘EM BAD SO YEAH IT IS ANGSTY BUT ALASTAIR DESERVES TO BE HAPPY

FUCK EVERYTHING

Word count: 3,838

The boy ran a hand over his face holding in a sob. Everything hurt.

The waters of the Thames seemed to want to take him and pull him down, the waves rising bigger every second and the splashes on the wall did not struggle to reach where he was sitting, on the edge of the wall, which ended overhanging the turbid waters. A drop fell on his cheek and the twitch of his eye made him sigh.

He shook his head. No, he would not have cried any more tears that evening. Too many had already been shed. He winced when he touched his cheekbone. He could already feel his skin swelling around his eye as he was struggling to keep it open. He put a finger to his eyebrow and did nothing but touch it that a sharp pain took over his whole face. He dropped his hand, swearing. He wanted to forget everything, get lost for a few hours, but just the idea of touching a bottle of alcohol made his stomach turn. He touched his pocket for the ninth time hoping to find his stelee there, and for the ninth time he ended disappointed. He must have left it to Cordelia.

He took a deep breath thinking of his Layla and his brother, so small, yet forced to grow up quickly, in a house more broken than the one where he had grown up in. He was just hoping the Herondales were calming them down. When he had left her at the Institute with Kia a few hours before she was trembling and had not yet cried, or said a word, since they had left their house.

He knew that James and Matthew were not there when they arrived, the same was true for Lucie, who was now in Idris, but at least William and Tessa would be able to soothe her. And as soon as James knew what had happened he would run to the Institute. He must have caught up with her by now.

Maybe Alastair should have gone back too, he thought, to check on them. But every time he tried to get up the enormity of what had just happened would pour down on him and an invisible force would push him back to the ground.

He tightened the grip around the lamppost, which was off and let the shadows move as they wanted.

That night, he came home exhausted, physically and mentally, from patrolling with Charles and two other shadowhunters their age. The two had remained on good terms after he had broke up with him at James and his sister’s engagement party, but Charles continued to ask him if there was someone else, if he had found someone to keep him company, Not that loved him, as if their relationship had always represented that. As if Alastair represented a lady-in-waiting every time Charles wasn’t in Alicante speaking politics.

I worry about you, Charles told him to justify his nosey character, but Alastair knew he was only doing it so he could have control over his life again. He hadn’t felt love for Charles for some months now, his heart already belonged to someone else, but his chest still tightened whenever they were in the same room.

He had just walked two steps from the door, when his father had stormed out of the kitchen, holding onto the door frame with a dirty hand. The wrinkled hair and clothes and shiny red eyes were enough to show what conditions Elias was in in that moment. And in case the breath that smelled of alcohol and his appearance were not enough proof of his state of intoxication, surely the bottle of gin in the other hand would confirm someone’s suspicions. Alastair couldn’t remember the last time his father was sober.

During Sona’s pregnancy, Elias was sent to the Basilias to get cured and a he came out a new man. Or at least that’s what his mother and sister kept saying once he got home.

Alastair had known him as a drunkard, a slacker, someone too scared to face the reality, but when he was released after the trial, Cordelia had forced himself to be cured. She had begged on his knees and their father had looked at her with tears in his eyes, nodding, shocked. He had thrown himself down next to her, asking for forgiveness and repeating words that to Alastair’s ears had seemed pointless.

No one would give him back his childhood anyway, but he had agreed to go with him up to Alicante and had allowed himself to be hugged when his father had sought comfort in him, feeling for half a second a dash of affection towards the man.

Yet Alastair could not find even a spark of that love as he watched him stumble towards him. He had grabbed his shoulder to keep him standing, when his legs didn’t seem firm enough to hold him up, but he had pushed him against the wall and he had come so close to his face that it was difficult to suppress the gag that had gone up in his throat to the strong smell of sweat and alcohol that his father emanated, "Have at least the decency to do it in your room."

Elias had opened an eye to look at him and then laughed in his face before being shaken by a gag and vomiting on his gear and boots. Clothes he was still wearing.

He looked at his chest holding his breath and, with his hand on his collar, decided that he would rather die of cold than look like a drunken tramp and began to untie the upper part of the gear. As he took his shirt off his head, he touched his face and clenched his teeth to suppress a grunt of pain. He had to find a stelee, and he had to do it fast. The longer he waited, the more the bruise would stay there in perfect view so that everyone could think about what reckless life he led. Not that he cared anyway.

Elias was drinking again right after Sona died. While suckling Kia sitting on the couch, he was draining liters and liters of wine or any kind of alcohol that was in the house. At the beginning he was good at keeping it a secret, but when the empty bottles hidden under the sofa had begun to tinkle, the older children had discovered him and Kia was no longer alone with his father. Not one goddamn time.

When Cordelia found him in those conditions, things ended quickly. She took him out of the chair and, bearing his father’s weight, took him to his room, where he fainted from the amount of alcohol ingested. When Alastair came home to a drunk father, he couldn’t help himself and they started fighting until one of them threw the first punch and the son had to block him before he could break something or get really hurt.

But that night he had only commented that if he would have ever become half the man that Elias had never been, then he could have considered himself proud. His father had straightened up and Alastair hadn’t seen the first punch coming. He had fallen on the ground and had hit his head so hard against the baseboard that he had been stunned for a few seconds and had not been able to react with the same promptness as always.

It was Cordelia who had taken his father off him, who, exhausted by the sprint he had just taken to hit Alastair, did not react at all when he had fallen on the ground. She had taken the minimum necessary and kept Kia on her side, the child’s head hidden in her neck, before running to the Institute. Elias didn’t even try to follow them.

Alastair trembled. The white shirt that remained on him was of no use against the stinging air of London. He turned to look down at the river. A twinge of pain passed through his head and carrying his hand to the back of his nape, hissing when he touched the point where a open cut spread right over the hairline. He decided that yes, he had to go back to the Institute. Most likely he had a concussion and walking around the streets of London half-naked at that hour, with an open wound, it was just a call for trouble.

He heard the sound of swift steps to his right and slightly bending his neck, he saw the blurry figure of a man running towards him. He was yelling something, probably Alastair’s name, because whatever he was saying, the sound was familiar. He blinked his eyes trying to focus, but couldn’t. He put his head on the pole that had supported him until that moment and almost fell back into the black waters of the Thames. A warm hand with a firm grip closed around his arm, blocking his fall, and he vaguely heard the voice of the stranger repeating his name.

His head was starting to spin really hard. He giggled, thinking how ironic it would be if he fell into the river, too, like Cordelia did almost two years ago. The Enclave would certainly have thought that their family had some kind of affinity for fish if they wanted to swim so much.

He felt two muscular arms wrapping around his waist while who had saved him from certain death tried to make him lie down on the ground, putting a hand behind his neck and slowly resting his head on the cold stone. He felt the stranger curse and then the warm and familiar feeling of the stelee on his neck. And then again on his wrist.

He moaned when someone put on him what was supposed to be a jacket and the warmth entered his veins. They sat him up and he found his forehead leaning against someone’s shoulder, someone who smelled something he would recognize everywhere. Lightwood.

A few seconds passed and Alastair was immediately hyperaware of what surrounded him. His head always in the hollow of Thomas' neck while he drew the umpteenth iratze on his neck. And then suddenly he found himself staring into his face, eyes starring eyes, lips a few inches away.

Thomas seemed to realize that the other was at least able to see him, and he sighed with relief, closing his eyes for a second, before taking his chin between his fingers and turning his head sideways. Alastair wasn’t breathing. A little bit for the pain that went gradually diminishing in the eye, a little bit because the last person he would have wanted to see in that moment had just saved his life.

"I’ve been looking for you for the last two and a half hours." breathed Thomas softly, so close to his face that he felt the breath of warm air against his nose, "Cordelia was going crazy when I arrived. There’s James with her now." at the name of his sister he snapped, moving the boy off of him, but dizziness hit him and the other was there to steady him. Alastair shook him off with a sharp movement and saw Thomas' eyebrows squirting upward.

"Did you walk here?" asked Alastair surly.

Thomas seemed confused for a moment, "Of course I walked here. I needed to find and the carriage would have slowed me down." said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if Thomas needing to find him was the most normal thing.

"Where are we?" Alastair asked looking around and not recognizing the place, the head pain almost completely vanished.

"We are close to the Victoria Embankment Gardens," Thomas said, taking a hesitant step towards him, "we are only twenty minutes from the Institute."

"Perfect." he whispered, turning to Thomas, picking up the jacket that had slipped off him and passing it to him. "Thank you for finding me. And for the runes." he said without looking him in the eye. Only in that moment did he realize how much the other seemed shaken, heavy breaths coming out of his lips, sweat dripping down his forehead, on his neck and inside the neckline of his shirt… He looked away quickly, turning towards the other side of the river and deciding whether to pass by the riverside or inland.

"Alastair." Thomas' voice was almost inaudible, but Alastair heard it as loud as a thunder "Maybe you should sit down, you hit your head pretty strong and you might have complications if you don’t relax for a second."

Alastair suddenly turned to him, taking a threatening step in his direction. The other one didn’t move an inch, "What do you know about my head?" he almost growled at him.

"I-" Thomas muttered, "I don’t know, I was just worried about you. The others told me that you were injured and that you practically fled before they could hold you. I don’t know what happened." he said in a hurry. "I left as soon as they told me you were out here unarmed. The others are looking for you, too." Thomas finished, reaching out to him, his coat still hanging in between them. Alastair moved to the side, avoiding his touch and the other flinched as if something had burned him.

"Good. Because nothing happened. Now excuse me, but I have to go to my family." Alastair said, sounding almost awkward. He was about to pass him and walk towards the Institute, when Thomas grabbed him by the arm stopping him, and Alastair trembled for the hundredth time that night, only this time it wasn’t the cold. "Let. Me. Go." he said through his teeth.

"No. Who gave you that black eye?"

Thomas' voice seemed much more confident than a few seconds before and the other found himself thinking they wouldn’t leave so soon. Because he wouldn’t talk and Thomas wouldn’t let him go until he did. But he might as well try.

"It’s none of your business. And I’m sure James has already told you everything." Because Cordelia definitely told her husband what happened.

"I already told you. I left the second I knew you were unarmed. I don’t know anything about what happened. And the sooner you tell me who did this to you, the sooner you can go and do whatever you want." Thomas answered in tone, looking for his gaze. "As long as what you want doesn’t include jumping into the Thames." he ended with a sarcastic smile. And Alastair realized what he was trying to do. He was holding him there to prevent him from running to the Institute and turning his brain to mush.

"I’m not in the mood for your bullshit, Lightwood, so let me go. I gotta get back to Cordelia." he said freeing himself from Thomas’s grip and starting to walk towards Fleet Street. He thought he had made it when the imposing figure of the other appeared before him and he almost hit his nose on Thomas’s chest. He closed his eyes clenching his fists, trying to calm down.

"Move out of my way."

"No."

"Move. I said."

"And I said no." he came even closer, forcing him to step back. "Cordelia must be sleeping at this time," they both knew that was a lie and that, until all the Carstairs siblings were under the same roof, the girl wouldn’t sleep a wink, "Kai as well. So tell me what the hell happened tonight."

"Why do you even care?" even as he said it, Alastair realized how stupid that question was.

He knew full well that Thomas had very strong feelings for him, had stopped hiding them a few months after Alastair’s sister’s marriage, when he had let slip that he had broken up with Charles once and for all, coming out in front of the whole group of friends.

They had started going out more often and there was some stolen kisses, but nothing more. Alastair had stopped reaching out to him when they found out about his father’s relapse, withdrawing into himself.

Not because he was ashamed. No. It wasn’t his thing to be ashamed of. But if something like tonight had happened while Thomas was there with him, he would never forgive himself. There were things, as Shadowhunters, that Alastair could not spare him, but that nonsense that seemed so far from their world, so human, that, he could keep it away from the best part of himself. If it touched Thomas he would become black and dark like everything else in his life, and he could not allow the one light that pushed him forward to go out. He just couldn’t do it.

As he looked away at anything other than the boy in front of him, he heard Thomas laughing, but there was no amusement in that sound. He saw with the corner of his eye that the other was moving to the side, and when he turned to him, he had a hand reaching towards the road, now free from all restrictions. Alastair hesitated, ready to snap sideways if he tried to stop him again, but it didn’t happen, and Thomas stood still behind him.

Until, "Go, Alastair. Go. But just so you know, I’m not gonna wait for you forever."

Everything around him stopped. The wind among the leaves, the roar of the river. His heart.

"I can’t take it anymore." Thomas said in a lower voice, "I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what your aim is. I don’t know what you want me to do." He took a shivering breath, rubbing his hand on his face, "First, you kiss me-t."

"It was you who kissed me." Alastair interrupted him, remembering the first time Thomas had stooped on him and had laid his lips on-

"Does it really matter?" he asked in an exasperated tone, staying two metres from Alastair, who continued to turn his back on him. "Because I think I’m falling in love with you, Alastair. And I’m terrified." Thomas said, moving towards him, "And I can’t understand why you do this. You push me away and I’m here, loving you, and I see you, Alas. I see you." Thomas' voice was reduced to a whisper now. “I see the way you think you’re all tough and strong. But you don’t have to. If you just let me-”

The tone so hoarse that he hardly recognized his own voice when, without looking at him, he asked him, "When are you going to realize that I don’t care about you?"

Alastair did not see him, but he felt the moment when Thomas’ heart disintegrated. He felt it because his own lay at his feet, cut into pieces. His throat tightened and he thought he could die when Thomas spoke, "This is not who you are." he murmured, keeping his tears at bay. Alastair turned around, quickly closing the distance between them and throwing both hands on Thomas’s chest, who, taken aback, tripped on his own feet, backing away a few steps. An expression of complete betrayal on the face.

"You don’t know anything about me. Much less who I am! So stop!" Now Alastair was screaming and his eyes filled with tears as he approached Thomas again, beating his fists on his chest one more time, "You know nothing! Nothing!" he screamed on his face, looking him in the eyes. "You can’t come and save the day as if it is nothing and say you love me, Thomas! You just can’t, fuck!" he raised his voice even more when he broke down and hot tears of anger rushed down his cheeks.

Thomas, frowny eyebrows, utter shock on his features, looked wide-eyed at a completely broken Alastair. He took his wrists in his hands and when he tried to free himself, he squeezed tighter. A particularly strong sob broke through Alastair, who crouched on the other and Thomas could only carry his arms around the boy he loved and who was now slowly fallin apart under his eyes.

"I don’t want you to end up like me." Alastair finally whispered. Thomas felt his heart breaking again and wondered how it was possible. He squeezed him tighter as he kept crying.

"I won’t end up like you. I promise." he whispered kissing his temple, bringing a hand to caress his head, being carefl not to touch the now-healed wound. "And I promise you that whatever it is, Alastair, we’ll work through it together. You’re not alone in this." he had to clear his throat before he could continue.

"I love you, Alas, I’ve always loved you and this matter never made me doubt my love for you. There hasn’t been a second in my entire life that I’ve looked at you and I haven’t thought about how much you’re worth it." he cupped Alastair’s cheeks in his hands, pressing their forheads together, his eyes closed. "I love you."

Alastair opened his eyes, tiptoeing to kiss him and Thomas went down on him, meeting him halfway, smashing their lips in a kiss full of desperation. He was kissing him as he had kissed him the first time, with passion, as if it were something he could do all day without ever getting tired. The guttural sound that came out of Thomas' mouth made Alastair separate his lips slightly and Thomas took the hint, wrapping his tongue with that of the boy in front of him, in a harmonious dance that didn’t need no music. The only sound that of their breaths mixing to form a battle cry. They moved gracefully, as if they had done it for years and their hands traveled on each other’s bodies, uniting as teeth and tongues collided, ravenous.

They broke off from one another only when the lack of oxygen made them see everything black and were forced to catch their breath.

Alastair was still crying, but now on, his swollen lips, there was a shy smile.

He had his arms wrapped around Thomas' neck and Thomas was holding him, his hands hidden under the thin white fabric of Alastair’s shirt. Every spot where his body came into contact with the skin of the other, burned and in that moment he really believed he could survive only of that feeling.

"What special treatment do you keep for the people you care about if you leave this one to the ones you don’t care about?" Thomas joked, holding him tighter. Alastair laughed and put his head between his neck and his shoulder, whispering idiot.

And after so much time spent denying what he felt for Thomas, he even allowed himself to believe that he would have made it through everything if he had his love beside him.

And he promised himself not to let his light turn off, ever. He would not allow anyone to break what they had just conquered.

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, SAY! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF RYUK.

Admin Jen: Say, I wish there were words to describe my joy over your application. Not only because you’re bringing us my beloved Pale Rider, but because of the beautiful way with which you captured them. There was so much to love about your app, but I have to admit that it was the para sample which stole my heart. Ryuk’s voice, his image of the other Horsemen and the way it bled into his dialogue throughout, the nuance in his perspective and the small tics in his mannerisms. It was all so vivid, so visceral, and so mesmerizing to take in. Although I absolutely cannot deny the impact of all the other sections in the app, which only served to amplify the portrayal and bring it to life in a way that left me so thrilled to leave Ryuk in your hands. I trust you with him completely, and I pray for the New World to bear their arrival. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER.

ALIAS | Say.

AGE | 25.

PERSONAL PRONOUNS | She/Her/Hers.

ACTIVITY LEVEL | Hopefully around 6/10! I check the dash basically every day for replies, but whether I get to them or not is a completely different story 🥴 Also, given that this is a highly literate roleplay, it may take me a tad longer to craft replies and post them, but I’m confident I can meet the 8 post/month minimum that you outline in your guidelines.

TIMEZONE | EST / UTC-5.

TRIGGERS | REMOVED.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE GROUP? | A mutual of mine reblogged some of the first promo posts onto my dash. From then I’ve been following the group, and I finally got a chance to read through all of the lore / word-building you guys have done and I am super impressed.

CURRENT / PAST RP ACCOUNTS |

IN CHARACTER.

CHARACTER

Ryuk.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

I will admit that when I was first browsing, I had the worst choice paralysis because all of the biographies were compelling in their own way. The Angels and their pretentious morality, the Demons with their freewheeling madness, the Gifted toeing the line between mortal and divine, desperate to survive in a world with their powers… That being said, I kept on going back to Horsemen because of their remarkable existence across Caelum, Sanctus Terra, and Infernum. Not quite Angels or Demons, and far from mortal, I interpreted them to be the closest beings to God the world has, given that they were torn from the flesh of God Himself.

This steadfast solidarity between Viktoria, Ryuk, Nerissa, and Dmitri really hit me square in the chest. Four distinctive beasts, hungry for bloodshed, are dropped into a world already ravaged by devastation at the hands of God’s own creations — so they take solace in each other, even broken from their original purpose. And yet, even amongst these four outliers, Ryuk stood out to me even more, because of their innate understanding of the ravaged world before him. While Nerissa raged for their stolen war, while Viktoria mourned their own creation in Purgatory, while Dmitri adjusted their child-like senses to their surroundings so starkly different whence they came, Ryuk intrinsically knew of their role on this plane of existence.

I recognized the subtle intricacies woven into Ryuk’s biography, and wanted to challenge myself by writing a character whose desires, motives, and perception of the world is markedly unique from how I interpret my world. What sort of purpose could a Horseman have when stripped of their divine right and design? What do the immortals fear when they are bound with eternal life? What could Death himself fear, when they know the unknowable, and have the power to exact their purpose?

All beings, regardless of their time on earth, fear death in some way. For divine beings, it is the possibility of their destruction through their infinite life, and for mortals, it is the inevitability of it that induces fear. But what about Death himself? Is it possible that they could be terrified of it as well?

PLOTS.

DISCLAIMER: I illustrated a few points that rely on the development of other characters, most specifically the Horsemen, but it will all obviously rely on me working out the details with other players.

I. A HUNGER FOR DEATH PROMISES A STARVATION OF LIFE — a division amongst a former whole.

We begin the story with the Horsemen being a single unit, working alongside each other in relative harmony, existing as mercenaries for the highest bidder. In a world teetering on the fragile truce between the Angels, Demons, and Mortals, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse walk alone, united in their understanding that they are unlike anything else walking the holy grounds. Without each other, they have nothing — so they remain close together out of deficit rather than benefit. However, in each of the Horsemen’s biographies, you’ve outlined a faint, yet irrefutable line dividing the four. As it stands, the division relies on recognition; Ryuk has always understood Nerissa and her cause more than he sympathizes with Nerissa or Dmitri. So what if that line became a crack?

I’ve interpreted the current division to lie within the fundamental conflict of bloodlust vs. power, with Ryuk and Nerissa lying firmly in the former camp, though this would all be hammered out with the appropriate muns. But the interest lies within the Horsemen, and what would happen if their loyalties suffered an upset — who would they pledge their allegiance to?

II. MONSTERS, WE ARE NOT SO UNALIKE, YOU AND I — an unlikely understanding.

This brings me into the next plot point, which involves Ryuk’s connections to the other factions.

Within my app, I sought to base much of Ryuk on what he is not — and their antithetical existence to Cade is something I played with deeply in this application. As hungry as they are for blood, there is a distinct lack of intention behind their killing, as if they inflict death because they are a Horseman. It is why the division is so crucial for Ryuk to begin to align themselves to a cause. A trap I don’t want to fall into while writing them is not giving them a fear to hold onto. I think the fascinating part about Ryuk is that they were birthed out of God’s terror of His unknown — and that is precisely what they fear the most. They feel safe and powerful when aligned with his fellow Horsemen, but without them, what do they know?

The details of what would sweeten their attraction to any cause is something I want to keep open, rather than delineate extensively here, but the core of it is the same: to lower them down so that they may see the light in another’s faith.

III. IN MY END IS MY BEGINNING — a touch of Death.

And here, we end with a renewal of their perspective. Some sort of mortal injury happens that gives Ryuk a taste of their own medicine, perhaps in saving something they have truly learned to care about, as much as their dark heart will allow.

Given that they fear losing their power and dominion over mortals, throwing them into a situation where they are possibly injured by one is a surefire way of allowing Ryuk to face what truly lies dormant underneath: what is their purpose? And why are they here and living, despite having their purpose erased so long ago with the death of their Creator?

Perhaps this will finally give them a hunger for something more than just taking souls and money for it.

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WITH KILLING OFF THIS CHARACTER?

As long as it serves a specific purpose for the long-term prospects of the group’s plot, 100% yes.

IN DEPTH.

DRIVING CHARACTER MOTIVATION

I admit that this is the one of the parts of the application I struggled with, because for all intents and purposes, Death’s purpose has been ripped away from them. They, along with the other three Horsemen, were created for Earth’s apocalypse — but now that they’ve been thrown into the world without it, in some ways they are lost beyond comparison.

Even so, Ryuk was still built to thirst for mortal blood at their hand, and as of now, that base instinct is what they actively rely on to move through the world. They are desperate and hungry for the souls they’ve been promised by God, and nothing more.

And yet, I think they are also terrified of what it means to be stripped of their purpose. There’s this tentative resentment they hold for the world that no longer needs the Horsemen to wreak havoc, and yet, a terror that overtakes them when they think of fully relinquishing what they’ve been handed down from God. A fear of incompetence, the unknown, and the uselessness they feel is what drives Ryuk to continue to do what they’ve always known. After all, it’s easier to believe in a belief they’ve held close to their chest for so long.

CHARACTER TRAITS

( + ) RESOLUTE | Permanence: it is the one thing Ryuk knows to be true. Mortal blood expires, and nobody knows it better than the harbinger of Death himself. It is what makes them loyal, unwavering in their beliefs in their tar-black soul once he has made up their mind. ( + ) ASTUTE | It is impossible to be foolish when he has the ghosts of the past right at his fingertips; a history, laid before them like an open book. And what are first impressions, when they have the still-lingering souls to guide him along? Not much escapes their eyes or ears, and they use their gift well, for himself first, and for the Horsemen second. ( + ) VIGILANT | All that knowledge, always within reach — it would be a shame if they did not apply it well. Though he can be quick to react, it is rarely out of ineptitude or undisciplined impulse; it is precisely the wealth of information he gleans that makes them all the more wary to enter into a situation without identifying the risks first. They are adamant on victory, not by anyone else’s terms but their own. ( – ) DUPLICITOUS | He has no qualms about trickery, or resorting to underhanded means to get their way. After all, what is integrity to a being that values Death above everything else? What is honor to a Horsemen without a future, when Death is the period, the endmark to every creature with a beating, bloody heart? ( – ) RUTHLESS | When Ryuk first learns of the word mercy from the spirits’ whispers, they can barely fathom the concept. Sparing another out of the benevolence of one’s heart? It’s practically laughable, given their own penchant for cruelty when faced with their victims. He is ( – ) PASSIONLESS | And one wonders: what could make such a merciless killer unflinching in the face of their purpose? Yes, they relish in every single kill, just as much as his compatriots, but in the end, he does it because it is all he knows. One cannot mistake the devotion they show for passion, the very fire that ignites the circle of life. No, Death will not and cannot be acquainted with life, no matter how many live souls they take for themselves.

PARA SAMPLE

“But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.” — Matthew 24:36

From the beginning, at the very break of their conception at the hands of God, Ryuk is told they are the antithesis of emotion. It is an age-old story of the hero, their origin a simple blip in the vaporous, golden-god kingdom from which he is torn, cast into darkness until their path is clear — but Ryuk is not a hero. No, they are told that some day, they shall wreak havoc across the mortal realm that He has forged to collect their birthright of the damned souls roaming the earth. When? It’s insolence, a rare bit tumbling out for his Creator, He who has torn a part to make their whole.

You will know, and it is thunderous, the cadence of his voice, that even Death quivers, when the gates to the mortal realm opens. And then, they are thrown into their realm, devoid of anything but dust and half-formed souls. They know this, because the moment they’d slipped into the aphotic depths of His plan is the exact moment they hear their wails, deafening, ululating, even for their immortal senses.

And oh, did they wail. Told stories of dominions and dirt, of princes and peasants, a swarm of the dead desperate for the ear of a God — or however close they could get to such a being. Time and time again, Ryuk would swat the cloud away, gaze always focused in the distance, where the dark smoke broke into a line of halcyon shimmer, and they’d ask Him ( pray, a soul whispers ) for their birthright, their infernal kingdom of souls.

Ages pass. They hear nothing. They see nothing. The gilded line shrinks. But what is time for an immortal? Still, they hunger for the permanence of their existence; here, in this inchoate cavity of God’s creation, they are useless. The void is a steadiness of not quite death, but the absence of life — a temporary, an unhappy medium that they cannot satiate themselves on no matter how hard they strived. When? They think again, but He is long gone, in His heavens with His angels and His mortals He’d bore out of Love.

In the ages to come, they will begin to understand this. Tales brushed in human concepts, of Love and Fear and Ecstasy and Hope, of those dominions and dirt, the princes and peasants. In the ages to come, they will see that the mortals flourish, souls rising to Heaven and Hell without their touch. They will see the expanse of God’s love for His children, in fractured pieces of the half-gone souls’ shrieks, wondrous at how He could destroy something He’d built from the sands of the lands. They will ask why did the mother forbid her to marry her lover? and the souls will answer, because she loved her daughter, a babe she’d birthed for nothing in return.

“For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places.” — Matthew 24:7

And what they mean to say is — no, they do not understand. How could God, in all his love for his mortal creations, bring their deliverance, Famine and War and Conquest and Death, upon the moral planes? What is their purpose aside to destroy what He has created? To understand the world is to hold it in one’s hands and inflict upon it an inconceivable love, of which they had none in their ichor-stricken heart.

They resent God for this. They resent their purpose, and yet, they walk the earthly plains alongside their comrades, knowing that even God has succumbed — and so they hold their faith, deal their foreordained havoc in spades.

“For they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of God the Almighty.” — Revelation 16:14

“You must have mistaken me for a being of mercy, of which I am not.” Viktoria’s nostrils flare. Ryuk’s voice is low enough that the others do not catch the impertinent remark, the subtlest of digs on what she prized most. Within visible distance, Dmitri fiddles with a mortal contraption, one of the many gifts from his beautiful admirers, and far off, in the other direction, Nerissa sharpens her blade on a slick slab of quartz, eyeing her two comrades with a watchful eye.

Among them all, fallows, burnt yellow and unseemly, spread out across either side, an end distant and impossible. In this part of land, there is nothing but rainfall and smog, untraversed by even the most seasoned of travelers, which, of course, had made it ideal for the likes of the Horsemen. Nothing but tar black clouds roamed the sky, save for the sliver of white in the horizon, a marker of Caelum to the North. The line glows, and Ryuk is briefly struck by the likeness of their environment to the emptiness from which they came. If they listen diligently enough, the winds almost mimic the agonized shrieks of undamned souls, and it completes the resemblance, far too uncanny for their liking. He shifts on his feet, left and right, and tugs on his ear. A cue, he’d learned, then committed to muscle memory, to ward away the spirits when they were not needed.

“And as always, you have failed to listen. And they say you can hear the spirits with those ears?”

It is Ryuk, this time, that prickles under the weight of the insult. Viktoria, as always, has fashioned herself as the brains of their expeditions, always pointing out their next destination. He cannot blame her; of the quad, they all know she is the weakest, but her passion for their good fate flares stronger than his own. Viktoria, always the one hungering for something more. A desire for a bite of the heavens whence they came.

To each their own, they suppose.

“I have provided all of us with good information, have I not? Saved our good health, if I remember correctly, more times than I desire to count.” Their sharp glare meets the other’s steel-bit fire, and she huffs.

“And what are your qualms of this plan? Do you plan to serve this diseased Tridium for our eternity?”

Besides him, the souls begin to howl. Cry out, they will hunt and kill you, they have weaponry, blessed by the something dark and holy, and yet, another faction beckons, they are no match for the Apocalypse, they are not as strong as you believe —

“What is it?”

They snap out of their trance. In the centuries they have known each other, they have all learned each other’s behaviors like their own kin. Like the flicker in Nerissa’s jaw when she lusts for blood, the fondness glimmering in Dmitri’s eye when he spies a mortal he desires. They’ve all seen the half-slack stupor Ryuk undergoes when he channels the voices of the dead, most of all Viktoria, but he brushes her away, throat cleared with a rumble.

“Nothing. They caution us against it.”

“And?”

The sinew in their neck tenses. “And there is nothing else. We all know that some mortals are still gifted. They hold the power to our demise as much as we for theirs.”

Viktoria scoffs. It is clear, in her stance, from her gaze, that she does not believe he is giving her the entire truth. “We will need more than that if we are to carry through with it; perhaps, they can tell us the size of their armory, or perhaps how it could be of use to us...“ Eyes averted, she begins to pace a small distance. They can already see the cogs turn in their brain, assembling their scheme for an upset of power across the lands.

“And who has agreed to carry through with this design? Dmitri?”

They look up. Viktoria, who’d been addressed; Dmitri, who’d believed they'd been summoned; Nerissa, who’d smelled the whiff of conflict. The lines, there are always the lines. Viktoria with Dmitri, himself with Nerissa. Left unsaid, but voice did not negate the fact that the line is a truth, hanging amongst them like an errant thread, impossible to sever even with the sharpest of blades. “You don’t believe we can do it?”

They stare, unflinching against her black gaze, because for all that they lack with their deadened atrophy and rot, they fill themselves with the faith that there will always be more souls to take. They do not prescribe themselves to a greater fate other than the one that has been given to them, from God, their Creator. What use do they have of power, when they had all that they required in the present?

“If we take this job, do this favor for this mortal, we will secure an ear in the ranks — a cousin of a member of the Round Table, and we can use leverage, to raise our status, to find these heavenly instruments to mine for crystallis —”

“Of which he has none, Viktoria, in case you have forgotten!”

From the corner of their eye, they see Dmitri flinch, Nerissa cease her movements to sharpen her blade. They are always like this, vying for a position that neither of them particularly desire, but ages have passed since they’ve come to terms with their uncertain fate. They’d been dropped amongst mortals and divinity alike, across barren lands and built cities, alone in their status as creatures of God, literal in every sense of the word. He had torn them, the four of them, from His own celestial body, had He not?

They are quiet again.

Mere mortals would have raged, now Ryuk knows this. It is the security of more that protects (or rather, exposes) the others to wars, seething with blood and blades, to the black certainty of hatred that infected the strength of their ranks, susceptible and raw. Their net, of course, had perished along with the annihilated remains of God’s and Lucifer’s immortal bodies. They had nobody, and would have nobody else, until the end of time.

Perhaps they all realize this, sheepish expressions flitting across their eyes, the sunken hollows of their cheeks. Jagged as they are in countenance and disposition, Ryuk has realized they have gone too far in their words. His head hangs an inch lower, shoulders hunched in sour defeat. It is all that they need for the mood to lift. Viktoria nods, and they mount their horses, in implicit agreement that they would defer the conversation for another time.

They scan the fields. It is still sunken, stinking of something burnt yet still living, sodden with the foul scent of mortal dirt. The gales have only reinforced their vigor, screeching through the vast space, washing away their bitter anguish — but the winds are just that, the earlier parallel lost, if only because they had three others by their side. They have survived the fire, and they will survive, untouched, riding their noble steeds into the winds, not separate, but as one.

#accepted #accepted: ryuk

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cakers-2000 · 4 years

Text

~Stalker~ (Atsushi Nakajima X Fem!Reader)

I’m a giant fan of Bungou Stray Dogs so enjoy this Atsushi Scenario I also wrote on my Wattpad! I have a Dazai Scenario in the works right now so I’ll be posting that soon plus more Kokichi stuff cause he’s my baby

Also side note, Akira is just a name I used cause I didn’t want to use a character from the show! He’s just a made up dude!

Word count: 2.9k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't have anyone else to turn to, please help me."

You grabbed the bottom of your jacket tightly in your hands, staring down at your hands as you fought back your tears.

The people surrounding you, the Armed Detective Agency stared down at you, none of them saying a single word. You squeezed your eyes shut in a better attempt to hold back your tears. There was the sound of chair legs scraping on the floor and you heard a calm and soothing voice speak to you.

"It's alright. We're here to help."

You slowly lifted your head to see who was speaking to you. Your eyes locked with the gray haired boy you had seen when you first entered the building. He smiled sweetly when you locked eyes with his own. "So what did you need help with?"

"I need help with a stalker..."

An orange haired boy sat down beside the gray haired boy. A black haired girl wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, though he spoke to you as if this was normal. "A stalker?"

You nodded your head quickly and leaned backwards in your chair. "My ex boyfriend actually. We broke up about a month ago but he won't leave me alone.. He follows me everywhere, he even shows up at my house. I don't know what to do anymore..."

The black haired girl slightly pouted in your direction. "That's awful..."

The orange haired boy spoke to you once more. "If that's the case ma'am why haven't you gone to the police? Why are you coming to us? This seems to be more in their jurisdiction."

"I did." You bit your lip, trying to hold back your tears as you seemed to relive the horrible past month. "My ex... He's an ability user. They said that there was nothing they could do. I have a restraining order but no one's enforcing it..."

"I sympathize with your situation Ms..."

A yellow haired man was standing behind the two boys with a brown haired man. He was addressing you as he pushed up the brim of his glasses.

"(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

He nodded in order to acknowledge your words. "Ms. (Y/L/N), I sympathize with you but we don't deal with stalker ex boyfriends in the Armed Detective Agency."

"Huh?" The gray haired boy turned around in his seat to stare at the older man with slightly wide eyes. "But Kunikida, he's an ability user and she needs help. We can't just turn a blind eye to someone in need can we?"

The brown haired man placed his elbows on the back of the gray haired boy's chair and nodded his head. "I have to agree with Atsushi-Kun. Wouldn't the President agree too Kunikida?"

The brown haired man was smiling brightly at the yellow haired man you know knew as Kunikida. He let out a 'tsk' seeming unable to fight against his words.

"Well just how do you expect to solve her problem Dazai?"

The voice came from a desk behind the group where a black haired man with rather childish clothes was sat eating through a stash of candy beside him.

"Well maybe you can help us Rampo~" Dazai held the same smile, as if trying to win over his coworkers.

"Mmm, do I have to?"

Your mind was racing, panic slowly setting in. This was your last chance. You had no one left to turn to after this.

"I'm willing to pay anything..." They all turned in your direction at hearing your desperate words and you moved to meet all of their eyes. "Just please help me! I don't know what else to do, or who else to turn to. I'm so scared I just want him to leave me alone..."

You hadn't planned to cry once more but you truly couldn't help it. You were absolutely terrified of your ex and what he could possibly do to you. The gray haired boy smiled reassuringly in your direction. His hand fell onto your own (which still gripped your jacket tightly) and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. As if magic, your fear seemed to wash away purely by this boys presence.

"Hey, don't you worry about a thing. We're going to help you." He glanced back towards Kunikida, eyebrow raised. "Isn't that right Kunikida?"

The man stayed silent for a long while until finally, to your relief, letting out a sigh. He pushed up the brim of his glasses and glared towards Atsushi and Dazai. "Fine, but this is your problem now, alright?"

Atsushi's grin grew wider and he nodded happily. "Yes! You can count on us!"

Dazai seemed to be smiling at the younger boy's enthusiasm, and didn't argue against Kunikidas' words. Instead he wrapped an arm around Atsushi's shoulders and smiled warmly in your direction. "We'll keep her safe."

You couldn't quite explain your sudden change but for the first time in a long time you truly felt safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You want to what!?"

Dazai let out an unhappy sigh at hearing your protest. "(Y/N) please don't be difficult about this. I stayed up all night working on this plan."

"Don't be difficult!? You're supposed to be keeping him away from me, not having me invite him into my house!"

"It's a full proof plan! Think about it. He thinks you're inviting him over to kiss and make up but it's actually a set up. The second you bring him into the living room Atsushi and I will strike."

You still weren't entirely on board with Dazai's 'full proof' plan but he seemed rather proud of himself, boasting a huge grin as he drew little pictures of his plan on the whiteboard in the ADA's conference room. The door behind you creaked open and you turned to see Atsushi standing there, bundles of paperwork in his hands. He smiled in your direction and you smiled back.

He placed the stack of papers on the table in front of the empty seat next to you and sat in the respective chair.

"I've been doing some research on this ex of yours..." He flipped through a group of documents, muttering to himself and Dazai seemed to finally notice his presence. He put the marker down and leaned his elbows on the table, listening to what the younger boy had found. He finally seemed to find the document he was looking for and held it open to you, pointing to the picture of a male in the upper left corner. "Is this him?"

Just seeing his face made a chill run down your spine, but you examined the document nonetheless.

Akira Hatsume. 20 years old. An ice ability user with a past criminal record. This was him.

You nodded to affirm his question. "Yes. That's him."

Your eyes were clouded, so many thoughts running through your mind just at the mention of him. Atsushi seemed to notice your downtrodden look and held onto your hand reassuringly. "We're gonna get him."

You smiled back at him and there it was. The same warm feeling from a few days prior. You knew you were safe, you could feel it.

Dazai, unbeknownst to either of you had moved from the whiteboard to behind Atsushi, reading the document himself.

"Oh I know him."

"Huh!?"

Both you and Atsushi turned around to face him, confused looks on your faces.

All Dazai did was nod. "He's in the Port Mafia."

"H-How did you know?"

Dazai smiled at your shocked expression. "I have my resources~"

He thought to himself for a bit and his smile grew even wider. "Now this changes everything... Let's take five, I've gotta think of a new plan."

He grabbed a hold of both you and Atsushi's arms and pulled you out of your chairs. "Now while I'm reworking my plans," He shoved you both towards the door until you were out of the door frame and he could block the entrance. "Why don't you two get some dinner and get to know each other." He smiled towards Atsushi, "Bring me back some coffee would you?"

Atsushi tried to protest as his cheeks flushed. "Wa-wait Dazai! We can't just-"

"Have fuuuuun."

And with that the door closed with a bang.

And you were left alone with the gray haired boy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is Dazai always, you know..."

You struggled to find a word to describe the older man that had practically just forced you on a date with Atsushi. Atsushi on the other hand only laughed and shook his head.

"Like that? Yeah, you get used to it."

You were currently both sitting at one of the tables in the cafe just below the ADA's office. You stared down at the coffee cup cupped in your hands, refusing to meet the boys eyes.

You were beyond embarrassed already. I mean, this Dazai guy had the nerve to kick you out of your own investigation and send you on a 'date' with Atsushi, a boy you hardly knew anything about! You glanced upwards to find that Atsushi himself held a small pink hue on his cheeks as he stared away from you and out the window next to your table. It seems that he himself hadn't agreed with his coworkers rather forceful demands.

"So, uh... (Y/N)."

You were snapped out of your thoughts when he spoke up. You instantly lifted your head to meet his gaze.

"Hmm?"

"I was hoping you could answer some questions for me."

You spoke rather fast as your cheeks heated up red. You had been caught staring at him. "Yeah sure! Ask away!"

"Well it's about Akira."

"Y-Yeah? What about him?"

"Dazai said he was in the Port Mafia... How did you meet him?"

"O-Oh, right... Well... We kinda ran into each other, literally." You ran your fingers along the rim of the cup, a melancholy look in your eyes as you thought back on your past. "He was mean, and aggressive but I kinda liked that. When he ran into me he actually insulted me quite a lot but I don't know I thought I'd give him a chance. Truly my worst mistake."

Atsushi stared at you vacantly before shaking his head as he saw you bite your lip, clearly holding back tears. He put his hands up and an awkward smile fell to his lips. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to pry! If you don't want to talk about it that's fine!"

You smiled as you wiped the few tears that had managed to escape your eyes. He truly was a kind boy. "No, no, it's fine. There isn't really much to say than that. I didn't even know he was a part of the Mafia until maybe a few days before we broke up."

"It sounds like you had a real rough time with him huh?"

His voice sounded rather sorrowful and you attempted to reassure him with a smile. "Atsushi... I wanna thank you."

He slightly tilted his head in confusion at your sudden proclamation. "For what? We haven't dealt with Akira yet."

"It's just... You were the first one to agree to help me. If it wasn't for you... I don't know if the ADA would've taken on my job."

"I'm sure they would've, they aren't heartless."

You nodded and opened your mouth to speak more but was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. Atsushi quickly grabbed at his side and answered. "Hello?"

You waited in silence, the only thing you could hear of the conversation was Atsushi's side.

"Yeah... Okay... Huh? Right now? But we still-... Yes... Okay I got it."

He quickly ended the call and turned to face you, a rather shy smile on his face. "Dazai's decided to take a breather for the rest of the night. It's getting late, we'll work more on your case tomorrow."

Your smile slightly fell at the information. "Oh really? I was kinda hoping we could get this done and out of the way..."

He seemed to understand your disappointment and held a hand out to you. "I'll walk you home, my treat."

"You don't have to do that, you already treated me to dinner which is more than I could ask for."

He shook his head in disapproval. "No way. It's late. I'd feel a lot better if I walked you."

It had been a long time since you felt this feeling. He seemed to really care about your feelings. You broke into a smile without even thinking about it and reached for his hand, allowing him to pull you out of your seat.

"If you insist."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The still night was only sliced by the sound of joyous laughter. Your walk home with Atsushi was peaceful and calm. Normally you hated silence but you had found that the silence between you two was comfortable. At least that was until you tripped over your own two feet. And although Atsushi had caught you before you hit the rough ground the two of you were sent into a fit of laughter and giggles.

You reached your property just as your laughs were starting to die down. You completely froze though when your eyes met with the man standing in front of your front lawn, staring down at the phone in his hand.

"A-Akira?"

You were paralyzed in fear, only able to whisper. Atsushi who had already put two and two together placed himself in front of you, holding a protective stance.

The man hadn't heard you but he still seemed to notice your presence. His head tilted slightly as he turned to face you, confusion evident on his features. "Who are you?"

"What are you doing here?"

Atsushi spoke for you and you honestly didn't mind.

The man seemed even more confused at Atsushi's harsh tone. "I was told to come here? I got an email from (Y/N) saying to meet her at home."

You moved yourself slightly so that you could peek from behind Atsushi. "I never sent an email."

"Then who did?... Wait is this some kind of set up? What the hell's going on here?" He pointed accusingly at Atsushi, eyes glaring. "Who the hell are you? How do you know (Y/N)?"

"Ah, he's figured it out already huh?"

No one could quite place where the voice was coming from, but you knew exactly who it was. Dazai.

"Figured what out!?" Akira was panicking at this point, unable to pinpoint Dazai's location. "What the hell is going on here!?"

Dazai stepped forward, you hadn't even noticed his presence in the shadows right beside you. "Akira Hatsume... You're the stalker huh?"

"W-Well I uh-"

Dazai seemed to be ignoring the other man's stammering. "Though I have to admit, for a Port Mafia subordinate you look like a weak little thing."

"Huh!?" Akira seemed taken aback at Dazai's words and drew his free hand from his pocket. "I'll show you who's weak you bastard."

Though Akira charged at Dazai with everything he had, Dazai finished the fight with in seconds and a single tap.

He grabbed hold of the mans arm and kicked his feet out from under him, pinning him to the ground with ease.

"Look, I don't want to escalate things any further so don't give me a reason to alright?" Dazai shook his head and let out a 'tut' sound. "Listen buddy, no more of that stalking stuff alright? If we find out that you're doing this creepy stuff again we'll make sure to use some more force next time, got it?"

The man nodded, the cold harsh look in Dazai's eyes seeming to scare him enough. "Y-Yes I got it. I won't bug her again."

Dazai seemed satisfied with this and let Akira's arms go. "Now run along little doggy. You don't belong here."

Akira ran off, tail between his legs and you couldn't help but smile. It was over. Thank god it was all over. You were free again. You didn't have to deal with him any longer.

"Hm? (Y/N)? Are you crying?"

There seemed to be genuine concern in Dazai's voice. You reached up to your cheek, feeling the liquid touch your fingers before shaking your head.

"It's nothing I'm just happy. Thank you guys, so much."

"It was our pleasure."

Dazai moved to stand beside Atsushi and gave the younger boy a nudge with his elbow. "Atsushi, isn't there something you'd like to ask (Y/N)?"

"Huh? Wh-What are you talking about Dazai?"

"Oh don't play me a fool Atsushi, you know what I'm talking about."

It took a few seconds for his mind to register but before you knew it Atsushi's face was engulfed in red. "D-Dazai th-that's-"

"If you don't do it I will."

There was a playful smirk on Dazai's lips. Atsushi let out a long sigh, knowing he wouldn't win against the other boy. "Fiiiiiine."

He moved his head back upwards to lock his eyes with your own and smiled. "So uh, (Y/N)... I had a lot of fun at dinner tonight... I was kinda wondering if you wanted to do it again sometime? I mean not as a date if you don't want! We can just go as friends, I just think you're really nice and sweet and..." He let out an awkward laugh, seeming to catch on to the fact that he was rambling. "You don't have to if you don't want to though..."

"You know what... I'd love to Atsushi."

"R-Really!?" He was taken aback, unaware that you would agree but smiled to calm himself. "I'm glad. I'll get ahold of you sometime and we can set something up soon, yeah?"

You had almost forgotten that you had exchanged numbers with the two boys during the first part of your investigation. "I'll look forward to it."

You could remember that summer night like it was yesterday.

You could always remember the day you fell for Nakaijima Atsushi.

#atsushi nakajima #atsushi #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #atsushi x reader #bungou stray dogs scenario

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