#sammy be quiet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

movedtodykedvonte · 2 years

Text

Thoughts on Sammy’s Prophethood

Fandom treats Sammy like some fanatical weirdo like every other word was Bendy’s name. As funny as that interpretation is, like there is a reason Sammy lasted so long and had all those lost ones under his control.

I get the ideas that he could easily be a deranged cult leader that killed anyone who crossed him but you gotta remember he’s way out numbered by the lost ones and searchers. Sammy doesn’t seem manipulative in his preachings and would most likely do what he does whether they followed him or not. So it’s my understanding that they are willingly at his side. Allison directly states that Sammy keeps them tamed, meaning that before the whole cult thing they may have been feral or at least way more hostile than simply idly crying or moping about. Sammy is the prophet, their prophet and that makes Sammy a powerful entity when everyone but like 4 people are on his side and follow his every word. (Even the butcher gang attack Henry during the chapter 5 village battle) No one fucks with Sammy cause he’s both unhinged as fuck and he has like an army of a devoted congregation ready to swing on you the moment they feel you threaten them or him. Say what you will but I would not mess with him if I was aware of this like everyone down there already is. Of course, Malice still attacks him in BATDS cause he’s on her terf and she has the advantages of her machines and weapons and a gun.

I also feel like people get the type of prophet he is wrong, (even he does) which enforces the idea he gets no respect or has any leeway in the studio.

A prophet by definition speaks or conveys a message for a divine being, Sammy believing that Bendy is his divinity. We know this is not true by the way Bendy treats him, but if you have read DCTL, you know that the ink in general speaks to him and only him this way. No other character describes the ink with such adoration as Sammy does when infected by it; Malice hates it, Allison describes it as a nothingness before something and everyone else actively avoids touching it. This implies the ink chose him and the ink itself is his divine entity… that he rejected. Sammy is a prophet, but has been following the wrong denomination essentially. so he’s a heretic but that’s a whole other can of worms. Of course, he can’t appease someone he was never meant to serve! Sammy is meant to be a seer but acts as a servant. The ink in the book wants him to sacrifice, to spread itself and it’s influence to as many “non-believers” as possible. Sammy in game disregards it, instead honoring one of its machinations, like a golden calf situation read the Bible to get this reference kids.

Even if he is wrong, the ink still chose him and a lot of the ink creatures know not to mess with things the demon or the ink favors. This kinda gets into headcanon and interpretation territory but it’s heavily implied Bendy doesn’t directly control the ink. He can pass through it and is more resistant than it but he again is something born of it. He is a separate being at this point, somehow shambling about with out a soul despite the ink that is full of them. The demon scares everyone cause it can send you back, not because it has any real influences or power over anything down there. It just acts like it does. If this is the case, it makes sense that the ink still influences and controls some of the discretion of its followers. If it really did choose Sammy, and still believes that he can give it what it wants, than whose to say it doesn’t influence the others to follow its prophet? Sammy is devote to his cause, loyal and literally the only protector and being down their that treats them with a twinge of humanity and respect. Mix that with the ink telling you he is a seer than you get people who would follow whatever inane bullshit he spouts.

The other characters are locked into areas or have few allies. Malice stays hidden in heavenly toys, not even waking her own hall due to the threats. Tom Boris and Allison make camps and avoid all other ink creatures. The only ones that seem to travel around willingly are the searchers, butcher gang, lost ones and Sammy. You can call him stupid for it but I see it more as he knows he doesn’t have to worry about much else attack him… disregarding his lord and a few or the more feral butcher gang.

I just think too many people play up the groveling part of Sammy’s devotion when you have to remember how much he has control of down in the ink. That his focus was appeasing Bendy and helping his flock survive. He’s not a god nor invulnerable (Tom Boris made us very aware of that) but I do remember Joey saying he can presented as such over the domain he oversees.

Just like the music department, his congregation is his domain and it benefits him greatly that it is so scattered.

#Sammy isn’t as pathetic as people make him out to be #like do not forget he was ready to kill Joey near the end of DCTL and wanted to FIGHT GOD in chapter 5 #he doesn’t have a chip on his shoulder in game about it cause he probs sees it as a responsibility position and a task from his savior #also he just seems less abrasive as an ink person #hell even Tom wanting Henry to be quiet mean he did not want to alert the lost ones #If not for that one look out Allison and Tom would’ve been like WE NEED TO GO NOW WE KILLED THEIR CULT DAD #but alas the look out sent out kill bill sirens #like he’s being deceived by Joey and Bendy the ink fucks with him in like a good way #his homie I bet if he worshiped it directly he’d be a lot more terrifying #batim dctl #the illusion of living #batim #bendy and the dark revival #batdr #bendy and the ink machine #boris and the dark survival #batds #sammy lawerence #batim analysis #batim headcanons #Hepher coming out with the wildly different interpretations of canon from the fanon #Sammy’s cool and people fear him in universe was not the take you were expecting huh #he’d be dead otherwise realistically

54 notes · View notes

sezja · 1 year

Text

A Lakeside Chat (First AU)

Set in @theferalscion's fantastic First AU, with permission, because it lives rent-free in my head these days

They leave at dawn.

It's still a novel concept, dawn; Guyson recalls hearing tales from long before the Flood - descriptions of the sun rising over an inky black horizon, drawing the darkness away with its approach. He's seen his share of sunrises now, in all parts of what remains of the world, but it never fails to steal his breath away… in equal parts awe and quiet fear. The fear is dispelled, always, when the darkness of night gives way not to blinding light, but to vivid blue. Or to clouds.

Today it gives way to fog.

A thick, soupy haze envelops them as they walk through the Crystarium's gates, leaving assured safety behind.

"You first," he says, jerking his head to indicate Sammet should take the lead - no games this time, no risking the viis slipping off into the trees behind his back again. He's in no bloody mood. All through the past two nights, he'd woken up every few bells, checking to make sure the bastard hadn't snuck out again - each time finding Sam snugly asleep, harmlessly murmuring to himself, evidently content to stay where he was. Guy's no fool, though; he knows better. It's only a matter of time and letting his guard down.

The viis frowns. "I do not know the way."

"Then you probably shouldn't be such an ass to your guide, eh?" He points. "Walk."

They're taking the long way 'round to Amh Araeng, true, when they could just as soon head due south, but Guy'd agreed to make a quick delivery in Sullen in exchange for their supper last night… and anyhow, there's fewer trees along the road this way. Fewer places for Sammet to try sneaking away. He likes to think he’s growing wise to the little sneak’s tricks… but like as not, he’s just made Sam wary enough to learn new tricks. Lucky him.

He follows a few short paces behind his uneager charge - close enough not to lose the man in the fog - indicating which path to follow when the road forks. There's no conversation. Guy's temper is short this morning, sleepless as he's been, and any little thing might just set him off; the very last thing he needs is to get himself into a brawl with the man he's meant to be shepherding. So he occupies his attention, instead, on watching Sam walk: the uneasy grace of a man better-accustomed to walking along the heavy boughs of the Greatwood's trees than solid ground. His steps are still so careful, so deliberate, testing for weak branches that aren't there; he walks with such poise, such balance, testing instinctively for a shift that isn't there…

Guyson briefly entertains the idea of shoving him over. Charitably chokes the urge down, reminding himself he doesn't want to start a fight today.

Sam's quiet too, but that's normal, Guy's coming to realize - well, why not? It's not as though it was safe to chat in the forest. He's likely lost the habit of friendly conversation. Besides, what would they even talk about? Nothing in common. Guyson doesn’t know the first thing about bards, if such a thing ever really existed. Sounds like a myth - stories concocted before the Flood, when things like the power of song sounded like it might just be true. When people could afford to believe in flights of fancy.

But that’s not for him to decide or determine, is it?

The fog’s finally burning away in the morning’s golden sunshine, and Guy allows himself his familiar sigh of relief: the sky emerges overhead, overcast and pleasantly silvered by clouds, shy glimpses of blue peering through here and there. Not a hint of the Light to be found.

One of Sammet’s ears flick in his direction. The man peers curiously over his shoulder.

Guyson waves him off. “Keep walking. We’re nearly there.” He nods up ahead, where the squat little islands hunker at the edge of the lake, still clinging to the last of the fog rolling off the water’s surface. “Just that first island there.”

“The woman who entrusted you with this task,” Sam says, pausing a moment to allow Guy to fall into step with him, whether he likes it or not. “Does she not believe you might simply take her parcel and fail to deliver it as agreed? She recompensed you without waiting to see your task fulfilled-”

“It’s the Crystarium.” Guyson shrugs. “I’ll be finding myself there again sooner rather than later, and Taeshi-Luq will remember if her friend says they never got her delivery - and she’ll remember I’m the rat bastard who ate her food and didn’t make good on our agreement.” To say nothing of how cheating one merchant in the Crystarium meant they would all turn him away on sight. Short on coin as he is - with only the advance on Sammy’s bloody quest between him and destitution! - he can’t afford not to keep his reputation spotless. Hells, it’s that very reputation that landed him this job, eh? A lesser man would’ve slit the wide-eyed idiot’s throat the moment the Greatwood was behind them, taking the advance and considering it a good day’s work.

Sam’s quiet, frowning inwardly as he mulls over this answer. What he makes of it, Guy can’t begin to guess - as always, the viis keeps his thoughts to himself. Unless they’re insulting, of course.

So maybe it’s for the best that he’s quiet.

“Here we are.” Sullen, the little fishing… collective, he supposes; too small to call it a village. He beckons Sam over to a spot beside the door to this island’s cabin. He points to the ground. “Stay. I’ll be half a minute.” He glances at a nearby fisherman, fiddling with the knots in his much-weathered net. “Keep a eye on my friend here, will you?”

“He likely to do anything worth watching?”

“Not if he’s smart.”

This earns him a glower from Sam, but the viis huffs and stands where he was told - and isn’t that a miracle in itself? Guy eyes him a moment longer, suspicious… but hells, there are enough fishermen around that even if Sammet takes off running the minute his back’s turned, someone’s like to see which way he went. “I won’t be long,” he repeats - low, a warning - and heads into the little cabin, seeking the person he’s meant to be delivering this parcel to.

His ‘client,’ such as she is, is an attractive young elven woman, coy and winking. She wastes no time telling him how lonely it is out here in Sullen, with her husband all the way back at the Crystarium…

And if he didn’t have a thrice-damned menace of a viis waiting outside the cabin door, or perhaps halfway to Amh Araeng or Il Mheg or the Empty for all he knows, Guyson would’ve gladly indulged her. One more reason to be in a foul mood. As it is, he truthfully confesses he has another errand to attend to - a pressing errand - but that perhaps he might pass this way again on his return… if she should happen to have a parcel or two in need of a trip to the Crystarium.

He steps back outside…

…and finds Sammet missing.

Wicked white, of course he is. He’s going to get this man a leash. He takes a deep breath, peering down at the fisherman still wrestling with his nets. “I don’t suppose you kept an eye on that friend I told you about.”

“Oh, aye.” The man picks at a particularly stubborn knot. “Said he wanted a look at the water.”

“The water.” His head is pounding. He should’ve tumbled that girl, Sam be damned. “And you just-”

“Stop interrogating that man.” Sure enough, there’s the bane of Guyson’s existence himself, in the flesh, at the water’s edge. “I’m right here. Quite within eyesight, did you care to look.”

Guy takes his time walking over, willing his temper to cool. “I looked where I asked you to stay.”

“I heard your conversation through the door,” Sam replies, turning once more to face the lake. “It was of a personal nature. I thought it prudent to grant you privacy, and believed your errand may take longer than expected.”

You heard-? Briefly flummoxed, Guy wrestles for a response. “I-” He really should have tumbled the girl. “What, and leave you out here unsupervised? You must think I’m stupid.”

To that, Sam wisely makes no answer, instead nodding toward the lake. “Is this… the ocean?”

Caught off-guard by the sudden shift in topic, Guy pauses a moment, trying to catch up. “What, this?” The Source is vast, as lakes go, but Guyson’s been to storm-lashed Kholusia; this may as well be a puddle. “No. This here’s just a lake, a freshwater lake.” Though there’s something… disarmingly sweet, he realizes, in the man mistaking the lake for aught but what it is.

Does he imagine it, or do Sam’s ears droop ever-so-slightly? “Ah.”

“You… were hoping to see the ocean, I take it?”

The look Sammet gives him is almost shy - sidelong and brief, as though he’s embarrassed by his own mistake. “The rivers of Rak’tika make their way to the sea,” he begins, slowly, as though choosing his words as carefully as his steps. “But my duty has never permitted me to venture far enough to see where the river died and the sea was born. Though it would not be the same sea-” The oceans of the world, connected a century ago, have long since been divided by the Flood. “-I thought it might be worthwhile to behold the ocean with my own eyes.”

Guy can’t recall Sam ever saying so much at once, not since leaving Rak’tika. “Aye, well. You’d have to go to Kholusia - Eulmore - to see a proper ocean, and you couldn’t pay me enough to see that place again.” If there’s anything like the knowledge Sam seeks in that place, Guy’ll eat his boots.

“Ah.”

“Well,” Guy says, stretching. “Best we be on our way, then. Amh Araeng gets hotter as the day wears on-”

“What is it like?”

“What, Amh Araeng? Big. Dusty. Hot.”

“No.” Sam frowns. “Tell me of the ocean.”

“There a ‘please’ on the end of that?”

Sam huffs again, not answering. He turns on his heel instead, marching - inasmuch as he can be said to march - in the direction of the mainland, and Amh Araeng. Guy can’t help chuckling to himself as he hurries after; the bastard would rather storm off like a petulant child than say please!

Still, it’s striking to remember, all at once, how little experience of the world Sammet has - after all, regardless of how small Norvrandt might be, Sam’s life has been smaller, forever contained within the confines of the Greatwood. The awe he’d shown, wholly unguarded, when they’d first emerged from Rak’tika into the lilac hues of Lakeland proper… the quiet fear of the open sky stretching overhead, daunting and impossible after a life spent beneath dense boughs. Strangely innocent. The kind of innocence that’d mistake a lake for an ocean.

Guy takes a deep breath. “It’s vast,” he says, walking a few paces behind Sam. “Bigger than anything you’re imagining, and then some. And it used to be bigger still - they say you could sail out so far you’d lose sight of land entirely, though these days you’re always in sight of shore… or of the wave of Light, where the Oracle of Light stopped it in its tracks.”

Sam has paused now, listening. His blue eyes are sharp, focused.

Guyson presses on: “And deep. You’d never see the bottom. And it tastes like salt, pure salt, bitter and cold - you can’t drink it, no matter how thirsty you might get. It’s poison. More so with the Light leeching out into it, I’d reckon. They say the Flood messed up the currents - there are always waves now, taller than a house, and they’ll smash a ship to pieces. That’s why only amaro fly to Kholusia these days, and all the old ports closed a century ago.” He clears his throat. “And that’s the ocean.”

“Thank you,” Sam says, quiet.

“Aye, well, keep the thought of oceans in your head while we’re trudging through the desert.” He points ahead. “Walk.”

Sammet studies him a moment longer in silence, then nods and does as ordered, leading the way toward Amh Araeng. They walk for a time, once more without conversation, but as the gate draws within view, Sam speaks up once more: “I should still like to see it for myself someday.”

“Aye, well-” It’s on the tip of his tongue to say, I’ll take you there someday, which startles him; hadn’t he just said he never wished to see Eulmore again? Changes of heart or no, he doesn’t trust the snakes of Eulmore to change their ways overnight. And what else is in Kholusia? Broken-down shacks and dead fields of barley, rocky shorelines and broken lives. If he ever passes through Gatetown again, he’ll scream himself hoarse. And why should that change? Just to show an entitled little viis vagrant the ocean? It’s not worth it. It’ll never be worth it. “...You’ll need to find a different guide for that one.”

Sammet shakes his head. “My mission will not permit lengthy detours. I will go to Kholusia only if what I seek may be found there, and I will go alone if you will not brave the journey.”

There’s that haughty streak.

“Well, I wish you the bloody joy of it.” Sammet in Eulmore, he thinks, queerly sickened. It’ll be like beasts scenting blood. Well, after all, it’s not as though anything’s likely to send them - him - to Kholusia, after all. There’s nothing to be found there about bards or their abilities, and so long as Sammet stays on this side of the ocean…

…I can keep his ass safe, Guy thinks, rolling his eyes. Whether he likes it or not.

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #...SORT OF???#it's them but it's. you know. not.#my writing #i want them to have the same general vibe of their source counterparts while also clearly being their own distinct people?#thus guy's a little more serious and less flighty than guydelot because he did grow up in a dying world #with a lot more to worry about and a lot more reason to stay focused #whereas sammy's got sanson's idealism and optimism while also being a little more standoffish because he doesn't really know how to Social #(sam's also the type of person who's super quiet until you get to know him and then he NEVER SHUTS UP)#ANYWAY i'm having fun with this AU #thank you for letting me play around in it <3 <3

29 notes · View notes