Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Grandpa Henry!!”

Henry looked up from the book he’d been reading to see his granddaughter Ruth bounding toward him, waving a framed picture in her hand.

“What’ve you got there?” He asked as she scrambled into his lap.

“It’s a picture!” Ruth proclaimed proudly, handing the photo over to Henry. “I found it in the box Gramma and Mama were going through!”

“Is that so?” Henry murmured, looking over the photograph.

It was a photograph from the opening of the studio, old enough that the paper was beginning to yellow. Linda had told him that she and Sarah would be going through some of the old boxes in their attic, but he hadn’t expected they would come upon things from his studio days.

“Gramma said that’s you!” Ruth said, pointing to the younger Henry standing in the middle of the group.

“She’s right, that is me,” Henry confirmed. “I looked pretty different back then, huh?”

“Not really.” Ruth gave a little shrug. “You’re just more wrinkly now.”

Henry stifled a snort. Well, she wasn’t wrong.

“Did Gramma point out anyone else to you?” He asked.

“Mm-hm.” Ruth nodded, pointing to Joey. “She said that’s Mr. Joey. She said you started the studio with him.”

Henry’s smile grew sad. “I… did start the studio with him.”

The ache in his heart when he thought of Joey had lessened considerably over the years, but every so often he still felt that twinge. A part of him still missed his old friend, even after all this time. The sight of Joey’s young, smiling face brought back old memories of the two of them crouched over a table together, excitedly workshopping ideas. Those memories were fond ones.

It was a pity those good times had ended so soon.

“Why’d you leave if you made it with him?” Ruth looked back at him. “Weren’t you friends?”

“Sometimes friendships don’t work out, honey,” Henry said gently, patting Ruth’s head. “Joey and I just… weren’t a good fit for each other. Working with him made me very unhappy.”

Ruth frowned, turning her attention back to the photograph.

“That’s really sad,” she concluded. “I’d be sad if me and my best friend didn’t get along anymore.”

“Well, it does happen sometimes,” Henry said. “And it’s always sad when it does. But you can always make new friends. Or hold onto some of the old ones. Like him.” He pointed to Wally. “You remember him?”

Ruth’s frown deepened as she narrowed her eyes to scrutinize Wally’s younger face. Finally, she sighed dramatically and flopped back against Henry.

“I can’t tell,” she announced. “Who is he, Grandpa?”

Henry couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I guess he’s probably got a lot more hair here,” he said. “But this is Wally.”

Ruth gasped, sitting straight up. “Funny shirt man!”

“Yes, funny shirt man,” Henry laughed.

Ever since the photo Wally had sent them the year before, Ruth had referred to Wally exclusively as “funny shirt man” due to the Hawaiian shirt he’d been wearing in the photograph.

“He’s not bald here!” Ruth exclaimed, pointing to Wally’s younger self.

“Come on, he’s got some hair,” Henry playfully chided her.

“Yeah, but not a lot,” Ruth said, rolling her eyes. “He’s got way more here!” She pointed at the cloud of hair spilling out from under Wally’s paperboy hat.

“Alright, alright, you’re right,” Henry conceded.

Ruth straightened up a bit, clearly pleased at having “won” the argument.

“Anyone else you’re curious about here, honey?” Henry asked.

“Mmmm…” Ruth screwed her face up in thought as she scanned the line of faces. “Who’s this?” She pointed to Sammy, who was, of course, standing right beside Jack.

“That is Sammy,” Henry said. “And right beside him is Jack. They made the music for the cartoons. They’re the ones who wrote Sheep Songs.”

“Did they write Lonely Angel too?” Ruth asked. “That one’s really pretty.”

“Probably, but I wasn’t there for that.”

Ruth looked a bit disappointed that he didn’t have any special insights about the song but bounced back quickly.

“Was Sammy scary?” She asked. “He looks scary.”

“He definitely was a little scary.” Henry tried not to wince. “Jack kept him from being too bad most of the time but he could definitely be… intense.”

“And who’s that?” Ruth pointed at Norman, predictably on the outskirts of the group, smiling at the camera as though he knew something they didn’t.

“That is Norman,” Henry said. “He ran the projectors and probably knew every secret in the studio.”

Ruth let out a little gasp, immediately turning to look at Henry with wide eyes. “What kinda secrets?” She asked, her voice hushed with awe.

Henry smiled apologetically. “Sorry, honey. I never asked.”

Ruth flopped dramatically back against him again. “You’re so boring, Grandpa!”

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Henry ruffled her hair.

Ruth let out an adorably beleaguered sigh, resting her head against Henry’s chest.

“Did you like working with them?” She asked after a moment or two.

“Hm?”

“Did you like working with them?” Ruth repeated. “The people in the picture.”

Henry paused before answering with a nod. “I did.”

“If you liked it, then why did you leave?” There was no judgment in Ruth’s eyes as she looked up at him. Just curiosity.

“I told you, honey, Joey and I didn’t work well together,” Henry patiently reminded her. “Working there wasn’t good for me.”

“Not good for you how?” Ruth tilted her head to the side.

“A good partnership involves a good balance of giving and taking,” Henry explained, setting the photo aside and shifting Ruth so he could gesture better. “If one person is asking the other for more work than they’re doing themselves, then that’s not a good partnership. And Joey was asking for me to do more work than he was doing himself.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Ruth concluded.

“It wasn’t.” Henry smiled sadly. “Which was why I had to leave.”

Ruth seemed to consider this for a moment before giving a little nod.

“Okay, I get it,” she said. “Can we have a snack now? I’m hungry.”

Henry chuckled, easing himself up from the chair with Ruth cradled in one arm.

“Of course, sweetie. Now, what are you in the mood for?”

.

“…Could you tell me what this place used to be like?”

Henry looked up from the locker he’d been rifling through.

“This place?” He gestured around them.

“Or, well, the original studio,” Audrey corrected, shifting a bit. “…I was always kind of curious what it was like working here back in the day.”

Henry was silent for a moment, turning his attention back to the locker.

“I was only there a year, so I can’t tell you much,” he said. His voice was quiet. Audrey had noticed he always got rather quiet when the studio or Joey got brought up.

“That’s another thing I always wondered about,” Audrey said with a frown. “You helped start the studio. Why quit after only a year?”

Henry let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Are you sure you want to hear about this?” He glanced back at her, a weary and defeated look in his eyes. “It’s not a very happy story.”

“I want to hear it,” Audrey insisted.

Henry let out another sigh, closing the locker. “Alright. If you’re sure.” He turned to face her, walking over to lean on the railing that overlooked the main area of the Demon’s Rest. “It was always a bit… chaotic. Joey was a man of ideas, but only ideas. Execution was never his strong point. He’d come up with the ideas and then expect you to make them a reality.”

“If it was like that, then why did you start the studio with him in the first place?” Audrey leaned on the railing next to him.

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that.” A hint of annoyance entered Henry’s voice. “I didn’t find that out until the studio was up and running.” His shoulders hunched as he stared down at the Lost Ones milling around. “I thought it would be different. I thought we would be partners.”

“But you… weren’t?” Audrey frowned slightly.

“We weren’t,” Henry confirmed. “Instead, I gave and gave and gave, and all he did was take.”

Audrey shifted uncomfortably. “That sounds… hard.”

“It was.” Henry gave a short nod. “That’s why I only lasted a year. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand doing all the work while he reaped all the benefits. And that’s not even counting all the times he’d suddenly spring deadlines on us and expect us to work through the night to get it done.” For a moment, absolute fury flashed across his features before it was replaced with bone-deep weariness. “It was exhausting. He was always asking so much.”

“…Why do you think the others didn’t leave?” Audrey asked. If conditions were that bad, why didn’t everyone leave? Why had Henry been the only one to go?

“I mean, it was the Depression,” Henry said with a rueful laugh. “Not a lot of other places were hiring.”

“Oh, right.” She’d almost forgotten that the studio had been founded during the Great Depression.

…That did explain why most hadn’t left. Where else would they have gone?

“Do you… regret leaving?” Audrey tentatively asked.

“No,” Henry answered without a second thought.

“Never?” Audrey raised an eyebrow. “But, you loved Bendy, didn’t you? You helped make him. Didn’t you miss these characters? Didn’t you miss some of your coworkers?”

“I did,” Henry said. “But that was before Joey did this.” He gestured around them. “Now… I’m more sure than ever that leaving was the best choice I ever made.”

Audrey fell silent, looking away from Henry. “I’m… sorry. That he did this to you,” she said after a moment.

“Let’s just get going.” Henry pushed off of the railing and began to walk away.

“…Right…” Audrey nodded, falling into step behind him.

Chapter Text

“Ah, awake at last~”

Audrey slowly came back to consciousness to the sound of a woman’s voice and the tinny music of a phonograph. She was vaguely aware of being seated on some sort of raised chair as she blinked blearily and looked around.

She was in some kind of… dining room? Or library? She wasn’t sure. To her left and right were bookshelves and columns. The floor was the same tile as in Wilson’s home, but it was chipped and broken here, with pieces of tile and pools of ink scattered about. The room was dim, lit only by the bare bulbs hanging on wires from the ceiling. Moths fluttered around them, further diminishing the light.

In front of her was a large banquet table, laden with cakes and donuts and pots of tea. Lost Ones were seated on both sides of the table, sipping from tea cups and eating the provided sweets.

And at the head of that table… was a woman. Audrey couldn’t make out many details due to her blurry vision and the dull throbbing in the right side of her head, likely from where she’d hit it when she’d fallen. But even with her limited vision, she could tell the woman looked more humanoid than the Lost Ones. Audrey could make out yellow skin and a black dress. Sort of like Allison…

“I was almost afraid you’d miss my party,” the strange woman cooed from where she lounged in her chair.

“What…? What’s going on?” Audrey murmured, clutching her head.

“Ohh. Seems you’re just a little overwhelmed.” The woman’s voice dripped with sickly sweetness, but Audrey found she didn’t care. The woman’s voice was… beautiful. Low and husky, like the sort you’d hear in a smoky nightclub.

“It’s alright, honey. I understand,” the woman continued, still in that faux-sweet tone. “It’s not every day every day you get to bask in the glory of… an angel!” The woman’s voice went up an octave on the last two words, sounding rather like the voice Audrey had heard used for Alice Angel.

Now that her vision was clearing… The woman did look like Alice Angel. She had the black dress, the horns, the halo. She looked more like Alice than Allison had at least. Come to think of it… Porter had mentioned there were two Alices. What had he said again? Something about one being fair of face and the other stopping at nothing to achieve perfection?

“An… angel?” Audrey echoed as the woman hopped off her chair and began to approach Audrey. Her movements were slow and languid, like a big cat stalking its prey.

“Alice Angel, to be exact,” the woman said. “Sent from above. Impending perfection.”

As she moved closer, Audrey could see that half of the woman’s face was mutilated and deformed. She had no left eye, only a gaping socket that leaked ink down her face. The ink pooled in holes in her left cheek which revealed her blackened gums and ink-stained teeth.

Even with the mutilated face, though, the woman was… stunning. She had the same features as Allison, but on Alice, they seemed… sharper, more mature. Allison’s eyes had been wide and alert, while Alice’s were hooded and sultry.

Audrey instinctively swallowed as Alice reached the chair. “What… What do you want?” She asked, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking too much.

Alice laughed, leaning on the back of the chair. “Ah, right to the chase. I like that. The truth is, honey…” She disappeared, walking around the back of the chair. “You’re one of a kind. I have to say…” Her face appeared on the other side of the chair now. “I’m an instant fan.”

“Well, I… I’m not from here,” Audrey said, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

“And yet, there’s something so… familiar about you.” Alice leaned in close. “Like I’ve met you somewhere before.”

Audrey’s heartbeat began to speed up. Her face was inches from Alice’s. She was almost certain that Alice was supposed to be threatening her, but this also felt… strangely like flirting? She didn’t know if she should be terrified or turned on. Maybe a little of both?

….God, was there something wrong with her?

“But I suppose we can get to that later.” Suddenly Alice was moving away, heading back to her seat at the head of the table. “This is a party, after all. And you’re the guest of honor, honey.”

“Would you like some tea?” One of the Lost Ones asked, getting up from their seat.

“is it… actually tea?” Audrey tried not to cringe.

“It’s the closest thing we have to tea down here,” another Lost One piped up. “It’s not that bad,” they added quickly.

“It’s not great either,” a third muttered darkly, although they too took a sip of their tea.

“We take what we can get.” Alice sighed dramatically, draping herself over the armchair as if it were a throne. “To think, this is what I’ve been reduced to. Stealing from that bastard’s pantry like some common thief!” Her lip curled in a snarl and she slammed her fist into the arm of the chair before flopping back.

“You took this from… Wilson?” Audrey frowned slightly.

“He’s the only one around here with any proper food,” Alice replied, gesturing to one of the Lost Ones. Said Lost One immediately got up and began pouring a cup of tea. “And since I refuse to scavenge like the others, stealing is what I must do.”

“Our angel is kind enough to share with us,” the Lost One who had poured the tea said as they brought it to Audrey.

“So you… protect them?” Audrey asked slowly as she somewhat reluctantly accepted the offered tea cup. A brief sniff made her cringe. The tea smelled burnt and acrid, and vaguely of ink. But it was hard to tell whether the ink smell was coming from the tea or the room around her.

“An angel must protect her flock,” Alice said before immediately making a face of disgust. “Ugh… I sound like Sammy.”

“You know Sammy?” Audrey asked. Although she knew she was going to regret it, she took a tentative sip of the tea. Almost immediately she spat it out. The ink smell had been coming from the tea. It was the first thing she tasted.

“Told you it was bad,” the pessimistic Lost One muttered.

“It would be harder not to know Sammy,” Alice said derisively. “He just loves sticking his fingers into everything, pretending he’s some kind of savior.” She rolled her eyes. “As if that will absolve him of his sins.”

“His sins?” Audrey echoed. A Lost One passed her a donut, which she was more than happy to take a bite of. It was stale and tasted vaguely of ink, but she wasn’t going to be too picky.

Alice’s expression grew dark. She sat up in her chair, folding her arms. “He betrayed me,” she said, her gaze fixed on the table. “He said I had talent. He said I’d be as big as Bendy someday. And then he went and gave my role away! To that- That Allison!” She slammed her fists on the table, jostling the dishes. “It was my role! Mine! He didn’t have the right to give it away!”

The Lost Ones chimed in with statements of agreement.

“He didn’t have the right.”

“You were perfect, my angel!”

“He never should have replaced you.”

Audrey just chewed on her donut. It would probably be a bad idea to mention that she’d met Allison. She wondered if Allison was still looking for her. Back in the sewers, Allison had said she would come for her. Had she?

“But enough about him.” Alice quickly composed herself, leaning forward towards Audrey. “I want to know about you, honey.”

“Well, uh, what do you want to know?” Audrey asked, awkwardly clearing her throat.

Alice’s smile widened. “What do you want to tell me?”

Audrey paused, leaning back in her chair as she thought. She had to be careful here. It was clear that Alice had a grudge against Sammy for replacing her. And given that decision likely came from Joey to begin with, Alice probably had a grudge against Joey too. Like everyone else in this place. So admitting she was Joey’s daughter was definitely not a good idea.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to ground herself. She could do this. She could play this game.

Then, she opened her eyes and began to speak.

Chapter Text

The last thing Cordelia had expected after leaving Joey Drew Studios was that people would want to interview her about it. Sure, with all the controversy surrounding the studio, she’d expected people would have questions about what it was like to work there. But she hadn’t expected reporters would want to hear her story. She’d just been a secretary, after all. Any funny business there might have been, and she did know there had been some, had happened behind closed doors.

Away from her.

But that didn’t stop the occasional reporter from dropping by to ask her about the most outrageous rumors surrounding the studio. Most of the rumors surrounded Joey’s supposed devil worship, which she supposed made sense given the subject matter of the cartoons and Joey’s… questionable decisions.

That didn’t make it any less frustrating, though.

“Ma'am, can you tell us if there’s any truth to the rumors that Joey Drew summoned an actual demon into the studio?”

Cordelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes and slam the door in the latest reporter’s face. Ever since the acquisition of the rights to Bendy by Archgate, the visits by reporters had become far more frequent as interest in Joey Drew had been reignited. And they all wanted to know the alleged demon that had been kept in the depths of the studio.

She forced a smile, hoping the reporter wouldn’t notice the way she was gripping the door frame. “As I’ve said before, I wasn’t privy to many of the things Mr. Drew did behind closed doors, but I’m quite sure that rumor is nothing but a hoax.”

“You’re sure you never saw anything like that at the studio?” The reporter asked with a frown.

“I hardly ever left the Music Department,” Cordelia replied. “If Joey did summon a demon, I certainly wouldn’t have had a chance to see it.”

The reporter’s frown deepened and he tucked away his notebook in his pocket. “Well… Thank you for your time, ma'am.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” Hopefully, he couldn’t tell she was saying this through gritted teeth.

She closed the door as soon as he began walking away, letting her smile drop.

“Another reporter?” Roy asked from the kitchen.

“Another reporter,” Cordelia confirmed, heading into the kitchen herself. “I still don’t know why they expect me to know anything.”

“You’re one of the last major players left and the only one who’ll tolerate their dumb questions,” Roy said. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking some tea while he read the newspaper, as he often did in the mornings.

“Maybe I should just start yelling at them,” Cordelia sighed, sitting down opposite them. “Although… They’re just doing their jobs.”

“They could do their jobs without being invasive nuisances writing up sensationalist drivel,” Roy muttered darkly. “They could write an article about how bad the working conditions were or how badly Drew treated you all, but no. It’s always about the devil worship.” He paused, folding up his paper. “You know, I could just lie to them,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Tell them some outrageous story to get them to stop asking.”

“If you did that, then there would just be more people coming to ask about your lie,” Cordelia replied, reaching over the table to gently swat his shoulder. “So no, we’re not doing that.” Still, she was smiling at his joke.

Roy let out a little chuckle, putting his hands up. “Alright, fair enough. Still, though.” His smile dropped. “Why don’t you ever talk about how badly he treated all of you? He was an awful boss.”

Cordelia’s own smile dropped and she leaned back in her chair. “It doesn’t feel worth it,” she said quietly.

“So you’d rather they ask you about ridiculous demon hoaxes instead of the real damage he did?” Roy raised an eyebrow.

Cordelia nodded, staring at her lap. “The truth isn’t as entertaining as the hoaxes. And besides…” She laughed weakly. “I’d probably get sued out of existence for tarnishing Joey’s legacy.”

“Ugh… You’re right…” Roy groaned, leaning back in his chair as well. “Still doesn’t seem fair, though.”

“Nothing involving Joey is ever fair,” Cordelia said. She paused for a moment, then sighed. “…Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” Roy allowed himself a little. “What do you want to talk about?”

Cordelia smiled slightly, the tension lifting from her shoulders as she began to talk about the plans she had for the coming week. For the moment, the shadow of Joey Drew’s legacy had been dispelled once more. But it would be back eventually. It always was.

Chapter Text

She’d forgotten her umbrella.

Of course she’d forgotten her umbrella on the one day it happened to rain.

Cordelia sighed as she stared out at the sheets of rain coming down in the parking lot. She knew she was going to have to go out there if she wanted to get home. She needed to catch the bus, after all. Or… maybe she could call her father to come pick her up. He’d probably gotten off work by now. Oh, but she didn’t want to bother him. He was probably tired…

As she agonized over what to do, she failed to notice the sound of footsteps growing closer.

“Something wrong, Bell?”

Cordelia yelped, jumping at the sudden voice.

“Calm down,” Sammy said, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her from falling over. “It’s just me.”

“Oh, uh, sorry, Mr. Lawrence.” Cordelia smiled sheepishly. She’d been working for him for nearly two months now, but Sammy Lawrence still scared the Hell out of her.

It was no secret he hadn’t wanted a secretary in the first place, and he hadn’t exactly been shy in expressing the fact that he didn’t want her around. According to him, he didn’t want another person constantly in his space, interfering with his work. She’d tried to stay out of his way as much as she could, but she always seemed to find some way to end up angering him.

“So, what’s wrong?” Sammy asked, folding his arms.

Cordelia blinked. “Huh?”

“What’s wrong?” Sammy repeated, a hint of testiness entering his voice. “You look upset about something.”

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing!” Cordelia said quickly. “I just forgot my umbrella so I’m psyching myself up to go wait for the bus. Since I’m probably going to end up soaked.” She laughed weakly before glancing back at the pouring rain. “Not looking forward to that…”

Sammy was silent for a length of time which was incredibly uncomfortable for Cordelia, frowning as he stared down at her. The longer he stared at her, the more sure she was that she’d said something to upset him somehow. It seemed like everything she did made him angry…

Then, suddenly, he held something out to her.

“Take this,” he said.

Cordelia blinked again, focusing on what he was holding.

“Y-Your umbrella?” She asked. “Oh! No! Mr. Lawrence, I couldn’t-!”

“Just take it, Bell,” Sammy said, taking her hand and closing her fingers around the handle. “You need it more than I do.”

“But what about you?” Cordelia insisted, trying to hand it back. “Won’t you get wet?”

“I have a car,” Sammy said, pushing the umbrella back to her. “I’ll be fine.”

Cordelia frowned, staring down at the umbrella. “But… are you sure?”

Sammy let out a frustrated huff. “Yes, I’m sure. You can give it back tomorrow.”

“Well… Alright.” Cordelia held the umbrella to her chest, smiling shyly. “Um… Thank you, Mr. Lawrence.”

“You’re welcome.” Sammy gave a curt little nod. “Just don’t make this a habit. It would be a nightmare if you caught a cold.”

He was already walking away before Cordelia could ask what he meant by that, getting into his car and driving away. Cordelia stood there for a moment longer, processing what had happened.

…Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Joey Drew was a man full of secrets.

Anyone who met him knew he was notoriously evasive about his past, always managing to skillfully steer the conversation away from the subject in a way that made you forget you’d ever been talking about it in the first place. Although his apparent friendship with Nathan Arch and connections with some of New York’s most elite families gave some hints about his upbringing, Joey himself refused to reveal anything about what his life had been like before the studio.

He didn’t talk about his family, either. No one in the studio had known he even had a sister before Esther Klein had shown up to deliver the bankruptcy notice. It had been quite a shock to everyone when they’d heard Esther and Joey yelling at each other and Esther had called him her little brother.

And if he was a little more accommodating toward his Jewish employees, then that was no one’s business but his own. Anyone who brought it up would certainly regret it, that was for sure.

Yes, Joey was a man with many secrets. And there was only one person he’d ever trusted with even a fraction of them.

But Henry was gone. He’d been gone for a long time now.

This was why Joey was currently talking to an ink clone of Henry he’d created from the Ink Machine.

“You know, you could just trust other people,” Ink Henry said as Joey paced back and forth. “Like Abby. Abby’s your friend, isn’t she?”

“No, no that wouldn’t work.” Joey shook his head. “She wouldn’t understand.”

“She’d understand a lot better than a pile of ink,” Ink Henry said. “She’d probably be more helpful too.”

“I don’t need help!” Joey snapped, stopping his pacing. “I just…” His anger faltered as he quickly began to pace again, chewing on his lip. “I just need someone to talk to. Someone I can think aloud to.”

“If you just wanted something you could think aloud to, you didn’t need to make me.” Ink Henry folded his arms. “You could have just talked to a doll or something.”

Joey stopped, his lip curling in disgust. “You can’t be serious. I’m not some kind of nutcase!”

Ink Henry gave him an incredulous look.

“I’m not!”

“You’re talking to an ink replica of a man you still haven’t gotten over because you’re too paranoid to trust a living human. That’s not exactly the picture of mental stability,” Ink Henry said flatly.

Joey huffed, his cheeks going a bit pink. “I’m not that bad.”

Ink Henry gave him another incredulous look.

Joey groaned and covered his face. “Alright. Fine,” he conceded. “Maybe I’m not doing well. But what am I supposed to do?!”

“Trust people,” Ink Henry firmly replied. “Keeping all these secrets isn’t healthy for you. Hiding your past and this ink machine bullshit is going to kill you.”

“No, trusting people will only get me hurt.” Joey shook his head, his eyes darting nervously around the room. “They’ll betray me. Just like my family did.”

Ink Henry sighed, running his hand over his face. “Alright, I can already see where this is heading so let’s just… move on.”

“I can’t trust people. I can’t,” Joey muttered folding his arms as if to protect himself.

Ink Henry looked up at him, his expression unbelievably weary and sad. “…There are a lot of people who care about you, Joey,” he said, his voice soft. “I really think you’d be a lot happier if you let them in.”

Joey said nothing in reply, pointedly looking away as the copy of his friend melted into nothing but a puddle of ink. Maybe he was struggling a little, but… if he let himself be vulnerable he would only end up hurt. That was how it always went. If he had to walk this path alone, so be it.

He would not let himself be hurt again.

No matter what.

Chapter Text

A drop in the ocean is seldom seen again. That was what Allison had said to him, wasn’t it?

A part of him couldn’t help but envy those who could disappear into the ink like that. He knew how devastating it could be to have no memories and no identity, but he yearned for a moment when he would no longer be burdened by the knowledge of the situation he was in. The other ink creatures received some brief respite from the horrors of the studio when they entered the puddles. Some period of time when they weren’t fighting for their lives at all times.

Henry received no such rest.

Even during the peaceful times with Boris in the safe house or confined in the cell in Allison and Tom’s hideout, he was painfully aware of when it would all end. Those moments were never true breaks, only brief lulls between the moments of terror that had defined his existence for so long. Maybe that was why he hadn’t tried to escape from the cell those strange creatures had put him in. There was no story for him to follow here. No expectations looming over him. He could finally rest for once.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. He was stuck in captivity while being freer than he’d been in ages.

“Little sheep…” Sammy’s voice jolted him from his thoughts.

“Yes?” He turned toward the glass, despite knowing that Sammy couldn’t see him from his cell.

“…Why is it that you haven’t tried to escape, little sheep?” Sammy’s voice sounded small, unsure. Henry had never heard him sound that way before.

“I could ask you the same, Sammy.” Henry scooted his stool closer to the glass of the cell window.

Sammy was silent for a moment or two before responding. “I… Cannot use my powers to escape through the puddles. And I lack the… mechanical knowledge that the false angel utilized to free herself.”

“Well.” Henry leaned his head against the glass. “I don’t have powers or mechanical knowledge. How do you think I’m supposed to get free?”

Sammy made a frustrated noise. “Because you’re different. You’ve always been different. I don’t know how you would do it but I know you could escape if you truly wanted to.”

“Maybe I don’t want to escape, then.”

Sammy was silent again. When he spoke once more, his voice was once again small. “Why would you want to stay here?”

Henry let out a long exhale. “Because I’m tired, Sammy.”

“Tired?” Sammy echoed.

“Yes, tired.”

“I suppose the constant fight for survival in this place can be… exhausting,” Sammy conceded.

“Something like that.” Henry didn’t have the energy to explain the whole story at the moment. Not to mention, Sammy wasn’t one of the ones who remembered the Cycle. Explaining the fact that there was a Cycle would be tiring enough, let alone explaining Henry’s role in it.

Some nervously plucked notes made their way to Henry’s ears. So Sammy was playing again. He’d been playing off and on since he’d been put in his cell. Henry rather enjoyed listening to it. While he could remember Sammy’s playing, he knew those memories weren’t really his. He’d never heard Sammy play before.

“I… am sorry,” Sammy suddenly said.

“Huh?” Henry frowned and sat up. “Why are you sorry?”

“I… know there is much about our world I do not understand,” Sammy said slowly. “And while I do not entirely know what your role is, I know that whatever weighs on your mind is heavy indeed.”

Henry gave a weak laugh, letting his head rest against the glass again. “You have no idea.”

“Therefore,” Sammy continued. “I offer you my sincerest apologies for whatever it is you are burdened with.”

“Thanks, Sammy. I appreciate it.” Henry allowed himself a small smile.

“You are most welcome,” Sammy said before pausing and quietly adding, “Henry.”

Henry’s breath caught in his throat. When was the last time he’d heard Sammy call him by his name?

“Thanks,” he repeated quietly.

Neither of them spoke after that, the only sound filling their lonely cells being the sound of Sammy’s banjo playing. Henry closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the music. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of being faceless and anonymous.

Just another drop in the ocean.

Chapter Text

Tom had fully expected Joey would reject the Bendy creature that had popped out of the machine. With Joey’s obsession with perfection, Tom had assumed there was no way he would accept such an imperfect creation. And, initially, Joey had rejected the creature, yelling at Tom and screaming that this wasn’t what he wanted. Tom had assumed that would be the end of things and that Joey would go out of his way to avoid the imperfect creation.

However, only a day or two later, he found Joey crouched in the creature’s cell, holding its head and murmuring apologies.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Tom had heard him saying, tears in his eyes. “It’s not your fault.

The creature had made a strange gurgling noise, pressing its face against Joey’s hands.

"it’s going to be okay,” Joey whispered, a surprisingly tender smile crossing his features. “I’m going to make you perfect, I promise.”

Part of Tom had wanted to ask what Joey was doing, but he’d thought better of it. He had a feeling this wasn’t something he was supposed to see. So, he’d kept his mouth shut and didn’t mention what he’d seen. And he continued to keep his mouth shut as he saw Joey visiting the malformed Bendy nearly every day, speaking to it the way one might speak to a child.

It confused Tom quite a bit, but he had to admit, he was glad Joey wasn’t being cruel to the creature. It deserved to have someone who cared about it. Although, he would realize later just how dangerous Joey’s fondness for the creature was.

.

Joey made it a habit to visit Bendy as much as he could. Even though he hadn’t come out the way Joey had wanted, he was still Bendy. So, Joey made an effort to visit him as often as he could. Not to mention… It was nice to be around Bendy. Everyone else had some agenda, some bias. Joey had to put up a mask around them. He had to play his persona.

And it was exhausting.

But he didn’t have to put on a persona for Bendy. He could just be… himself. Which, in retrospect, might have meant he was more open with the little demon than he should have been. He told Bendy all of his problems, all of the issues he had with his friends and coworkers. He had no one else to talk to about these things, so he talked to Bendy, never really considering how hearing all this might affect the little demon.

“You can’t trust anyone, Bendy,” he often said as he paced back and forth in the cell. “They’ll all betray you in the end. We can only depend on ourselves.”

He told Bendy about how Henry had abandoned them, how his own family had betrayed him. And all the while, the little demon listened intently, believing every word that came from Joey’s mouth without question. After all, it wasn’t like anyone else was giving another side to the story. Only Joey ever spoke to Bendy.

And Joey was kind to him.

Joey brought down books to read to him before he left for work for the night. Fairytales and children’s stories, things he said had been read to him as a child. Bendy’s favorite was Alice In Wonderland, especially since Joey did funny voices for the characters.

“The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: “No room! No room!” they cried out when they saw Alice coming,” Joey read as Bendy snuggled up against his chest. ““There’s plenty of room!” said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. “Have some wine,” the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.” Joey paused, looking down at Bendy. “Don’t take alcohol from strangers, Bendy. It’s not a good idea.”

Bendy nodded, making a gurgling noise of acknowledgment.

Satisfied, Joey continued to read. “Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. “I don’t see any wine,” she remarked. “There isn’t any,” said the March Hare. “Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,” said Alice angrily…”

Those were some of Bendy’s happiest memories, cuddled up against Joey while Joey read from some storybook.

Joey was everything he knew.

Was it any wonder that Bendy took on Joey’s problems as his own?

Chapter Text

“I’m a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop! But if, baby, I’m the bottom you’re the top!”

Allison gestured to her costar as the music signaled his verse. However, he failed to sing, instead freezing in place. The music abruptly cut.

“Goddamit, Smith!” The director yelled as the lights came back on. “That was your line!”

“I’m sorry! I panicked!” Smith said, putting his hands up.

The director groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You gotta get your act together, Smith. This is the third time you’ve forgotten your line today!”

“Oh, don’t be too hard on him,” Allison said, stepping between the two men. “He’s still getting used to all this.”

Smith was a relatively inexperienced actor, at least when compared to Allison. He’d been acting in local theater groups for years, but never on a big Broadway stage like this. Although he had proven himself an excellent actor and a wonderful singer, his nerves were continually getting the better of him.

“You’re too soft on him, Allison,” the director sighed as he shook his head.

“I just think it’s important to be patient,” Allison said brightly.

After all, not everyone was as good at learning lines as she was.

A part of her had always considered herself an actor, even before she’d actually begun acting. To her, the world had always been something like a theater production. Everyone had their roles to play, the lines they were expected to say, and the cues they were expected to follow. There was a script everyone was expected to follow, and Allison had learned it well, molding herself to fit the role that was required of her.

When she’d been young, her role had been that of the dutiful daughter. Seen but not heard, quiet and demure, staying out of the way of her parents and their guests but always ready to respond with an appropriate answer if they ever decided to talk to her. She was to be clever, but not too clever, bright and happy but never overly excitable, and never impertinent. Allison had played this role well, at least in her opinion, but lord had it been stifling. So many rules to follow and so many things to remember. There had been something so uniquely horrible about being a child in that household. She always remembered everything as cold and impersonal. There had been no room for deviation in the script. Any misstep was severely punished.

As she’d gotten older, Allison’s role had shifted. She was expected to speak more and to have intelligent and informed opinions when spoken to by guests. But never too intelligent and never speaking over men. The expectation of demureness remained. She was never to be too outgoing. She’d gained some freedom with this role, more certainly than she’d had as a child, but many restrictions were still there. She couldn’t leave the house without an escort, and there were very few places her parents deemed it acceptable for her to go.

By the time she’d turned 17, it had all become too much for her to bear. The last straw had been her parents telling, not asking, her that she would be married to the son of a family friend.

So, she’d left.

Then, she’d forged a new role for herself in a new town. And continued to forge new roles for herself for every stage of her life and for every situation she found herself in. Because everything was so much easier when she had a role to play. With a role, she didn’t need to think about the right things to say or do because there was already a script for her to follow. It just took a load off of her. She didn’t need to worry about anything when she had her script.

Memorizing lines for plays became easy when she’d been memorizing lines her whole life already.

“Let’s just take it from the top,” the director said, turning away from Allison and Smith. “Start the music!”

The lights in the theater went down and the music for the song began to play again. And Allison was in her element. All she needed was a script. That was all she would ever need.

Chapter Text

“Alice, I really do have work I need to be doing-” Cordelia began as Alice dragged her down the hallway toward the Archives.

“And it will still be there after this,” Alice cut her off, never breaking her stride. “You need to take a break, darling. You’ve been running yourself ragged.”

Cordelia frowned slightly, considering Alice’s words. Then, she smiled and let out a laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

Alice’s heart fluttered at Cordelia’s laugh and she quickly turned away. “In any case,” she said. “I think you’ll want to see this.”

“Oh really?” Cordelia let out another giggle. “Well, consider me intrigued.”

Alice couldn’t help but smile to herself as she led Cordelia into the Archives. She hardly ever got to see Cordelia anymore. Cordelia was always so busy with taking care of the Lost Ones and the Ink Demon and looking for a way out. Alice missed when she could spend time with Cordelia, just the two of them. However, she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy watching Cordelia take control and direct the denizens of the studio. She did love a woman in power.

“Just sit down here,” Alice said, directing Cordelia to sit down at the table. “I’ll go get it.”

With Cordelia settled, Alice darted out of the central area, beginning to search the bookshelves. She’d hidden the record in one of the books to keep Sammy or one of the Lost Ones from finding it and showing it to Cordelia first. She had wanted to be the one to show the record to Cordelia.

“Ah! Found it!” Alice exclaimed, pulling out the right book to reveal the record sleeve. She hurried back to the central area where Cordelia was waiting, presenting the record.

“Oh, it’s a record!” Cordelia said brightly, although her expression was one of polite confusion.

“It’s a new record,” Alice corrected. “One you haven’t heard before.”

To demonstrate, she removed the record from its sleeve, placing it on the phonograph and lowering the needle. For a moment, there was just static. Then the sound of music filled the air, along with a familiar singing voice.

“Ella Fitzgerald!” Cordelia exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she clapped her hands together. “Oh, Alice! It’s wonderful!”

Alice giggled shyly, her stomach feeling a bit fluttery at the praise. “I thought you’d like it,” she mumbled, brushing some hair behind her ear.

“I do! I love it!” Cordelia jumped to her feet, taking Alice by the hands. “Dance with me, Alice!”

Alice smiled softly, allowing Cordelia to lead her in a dance. In moments like this, she could almost see the girl Cordelia had once been. Since becoming the Prophetess, Cordelia’s features had become sharper and more severe, but in moments like this, they seemed to soften. Cordelia almost looked like the young woman Susie had met when she’d first started at the studio. Her smile was so bright and her laugh so clear and joyful. Alice felt warm basking in Cordelia’s happiness. It was like she was finally seeing the sun again after so many years in the dark.

“I can’t remember the last time I danced like this,” Cordelia remarked as the two of them twirled around the room.

“Neither can I,” Alice agreed with a laugh. “I think most people around here have two left feet. They don’t exactly make good dance partners.”

“Well.” Cordelia moved closer so that she and Alice were chest to chest. “It’s a good thing I have you then, isn’t it?” Her voice dipped lower, her features growing sharper once more as Alice was reminded that Cordelia was currently taller than her.

“I… Uh…” Alice’s mouth felt dry as stumbled a bit, nearly falling.

Cordelia caught her, though, pressing Alice against her with one hand in the small of Alice’s back.

“Ah, careful!” She said, smiling down at Alice. “Wouldn’t want you to fall!”

“Uh… Right…” Alice mumbled, unable to tear her eyes away from Cordelia’s face.

“I would suggest we waltz,” Cordelia said, not making any move to shift their positions. “But I think this song’s a bit too upbeat for that.”

“Uh-huh.” Alice nodded.

Cordelia almost looked like an angel like this. The way the light formed a halo around her head and her veil fluttered around her. She looked… holy.

Cordelia smiled softly, reaching up to cradle Alice’s face with one hand, rubbing her thumb over Alice’s cheek.

“Thank you, Alice,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I needed this.”

“You’re, uh, you’re welcome,” Alice replied, managing a shaky smile. “I thought you deserved a break. You’ve been so busy.”

“I have,” Cordelia sighed. She disentangled herself from Alice, something that made Alice whimper a bit in disappointment, turning toward the statue of Bendy. “I’m happy to be helping everyone, but it can be so exhausting.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job,” Alice said quickly.

Cordelia turned her gaze back to Alice, her smile widening slightly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Cordelia turned her attention to the phonograph, breezing past Alice to turn it off. “I should be getting back to work now. But I’d love to dance with you again another time.”

“I’d… like that,” Alice said, trying to hide her disappointment. Was it really over so soon? It felt like she’d barely gotten any time with Cordelia.

“Don’t worry,” Cordelia assured her, clearly picking up on Alice’s disappointment. “We’ll spend time again together soon, my angel.” She pressed a kiss to Alice’s forehead and then she was gone, breezing out the door.

Alice stood there for a long time, reveling in that last moment. In the feeling of Cordelia’s lips on her forehead. She hoped their next dance would be soon.

Chapter Text

Audrey hadn’t really had a reason to go down to the Joey Drew exhibit since it had been put up. For the most part, she’d just been too busy. But there was also a part of her that just.. didn’t really want to go down there. She couldn’t quite explain why. The thought of the exhibition filled her with a feeling of dread and sadness that she couldn’t quite explain.

Today, though, there was a lull in her workflow and she thought it would be a good idea to face her fears. She’d figured she would just go down, look around a little, and head back to her desk. She hadn’t expected to find anyone else in the exhibit, especially since it was the middle of the workday. However, when she entered the exhibit… Someone else was already there.

An older woman was standing in front of the glass case holding a banjo. She was small and on the stockier side and dressed rather conservatively in a long-sleeved blouse and a long skirt. Her silvery white hair was cut in a gentle bob, which framed her soft features. And she had a gold necklace shaped like a treble clef. Audrey couldn’t help but feel like she’d seen that necklace before. One hand held a small pink handbag, while the other was playing with the gold necklace.

“Uh… Hello?” Audrey said slowly.

The woman started slightly before relaxing when she saw Audrey. “Oh, hello! I’m sorry, you startled me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Audrey smiled nervously. “I just… didn’t think anyone would be here.” She paused. “I… don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Do you… work at Archgate?”

“Oh, no.” The woman shook her head. She had a gentle smile, but it seemed so… sad. “I’m a teacher.”

A teacher? Audrey frowned. What was a teacher doing in Archgate? And in the middle of the workday?

“Ah, you’re probably wondering why I’m here,” the woman said, letting out a sheepish laugh. “I heard about the exhibit and called Mr. Arch to ask if I could visit. I thought… I might see something familiar here.” She glanced back at the banjo again, that sadness returning to her expression.

“Did you used to work at the studio?” Audrey asked, her interest now piqued.

The woman nodded, still looking at the banjo. “I did.”

Audrey’s eyes went wide. “What’s your name?” She asked, taking a step toward the woman. “Maybe I’ve heard of you.” Her mind buzzed with questions. The prospect of meeting an original member of the studio was an exciting one, especially since there were so few out in the world. And fewer still who were willing to talk about their experiences.

“Oh, I doubt it,” the woman laughed. “I was just a secretary.”

“I’d still like to know your name,” Audrey insisted.

The woman looked slightly surprised. “Well, alright,” she conceded. “My name is Cordelia Bell.”

The woman was right, Audrey didn’t recognize her name. It did sound vaguely familiar, but not enough to spark any real memories.

“Who were you the secretary for?”

“Sammy Lawrence.” Cordelia’s expression grew sadder still. “I’m almost certain this was his.” She gestured at the banjo. “I don’t know why Joey might have had it, though.”

Audrey frowned again, walking over to peer at the banjo. “I don’t know…” She admitted. “You’re sure it’s Sammy’s?”

“Almost,” Cordelia said. “I’d need to inspect it a bit more to be absolutely certain.” She touched her fingers to the glass of the case. “He carved his initials into it somewhere. I just… can’t quite remember where…” She let out a long sigh, her hand dropping to her side.

“Were the two of you… close?” Audrey tentatively asked.

“To a certain extent.” Cordelia shrugged slightly. “I suppose we could have been called friends. Almost family.” There was a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke.

“I’ve heard he was pretty hard to work with,” Audrey said. “It must have been hard to be his secretary.”

“He could be a real pain,” Cordelia agreed with a small laugh. “But I knew how to deal with him.” Her smile quickly faded, though. “At least… I used to know how to deal with him…”

“Used to?” Audrey echoed, tilting her head to the side. “Did something change?”

“He was… different leading up to his disappearance.” Cordelia pursed her lips. “More erratic. He wasn’t the man I knew anymore. And then…” She swallowed, lowering her head. “He was just gone…” It looked like she was holding back tears.

“I’m… sorry.” Audrey awkwardly patted Cordelia’s shoulder. She’d heard a lot of stories about how some employees from the studio had disappeared without a trace, never to be seen again. But she’d never thought about how those disappearances might have affected the ones these employees left behind.

Suddenly, the sensational tales of mysterious disappearances felt a lot less like stories out of a pulp novel and more like… real tragedies.

“Ah, thank you.” Cordelia forced a smile blinking away her tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that onto you.” She laughed weakly. “I never expected I’d become one of those old woman who would tell their life story to anyone who’d listen.”

“It’s alright,” Audrey said, although she did still feel incredibly awkward about all this. “I’m… uh… glad I could help? Somehow?”

“It was nice to have someone to listen.” Cordelia gave her a more genuine smile. “I should probably be going now. You have a nice day, young lady.”

“You too.” Audrey gave a slightly stiff nod as Cordelia walked past her and out of the exhibit.

Audrey hovered in front of the banjo case for a few more minutes before heading back to her office. The meeting with Cordelia had left her with an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She’d had enough thinking about Joey Drew Studios for the moment. She needed to get back to work.

Chapter Text

Every Lost One knew that hearing singing was a bad sign.

Singing usually meant the Angel, and you didn’t want to run into her under any circumstances.

So, when the Lost Ones of the Harbor woke up to singing outside their doors, they were immediately afraid. Had the Angel found them? Were they all to be dragged off for her sick experiments? They cowered in their homes, praying that whoever it was would move on if they didn’t show they were there.

However, the longer they waited, the less scared they became, as they realized it was not the voice of a woman who was singing, but that of a man. The voice sounded familiar as well. So, they peered out their windows to see who was singing.

And there, sitting in the middle of the harbor, was the Prophet, tuning his banjo and singing wordlessly along with the plucked strings.

“My prophet, what are you doing?” A Lost One asked, exiting their home.

Sammy looked up from his banjo for a moment before quickly returning his attention to the instrument. “I thought I would play something for you all,” he said. “Things have been rather difficult as of late. You all deserve a little cheering up.”

Slowly, more and more Lost Ones exited their homes, having heard their Prophet’s explanation. They sat down around him, watching him like expectant children. They were used to gathering around him like this. Whether for some sort of impromptu sermon or performance. It didn’t really matter what the Prophet was doing, the Lost Ones just liked being spoken to as though they were still people.

Eventually, Sammy seemed to decide the banjo was tuned to his satisfaction and began to play some actual songs. The first song he played was “Willow Weep For Me”, which surprised none of them. Mostly the Lost Ones were surprised he still remembered all the words.

“Leave it to him to remember his favorite song,” one Lost One whispered to another as Sammy played.

“Oh shut up!” The second hissed, trying to stifle a giggle as they playfully shoved their friend.

The next few were unfamiliar to most of the Lost Ones, just some church hymns, half-remembered and awkwardly stumbled through. The Lost Ones clapped politely at them nonetheless because they were better than nothing.

Then Sammy played Sheep Songs, which brightened the mood of everyone present. All of the Lost Ones knew Sheep Songs and they all clapped enthusiastically as Sammy played.

“You won’t be able to hear the song if you clap too loudly,” Sammy chided them, although there was no venom in his voice. He let them clap and cheer as he played the song.

Soon after, he shifted to playing some more upbeat and fast-tempo songs, which got the Lost Ones to get up and dance a bit. The dancing was clumsy and awkward, but the Lost Ones were having fun, so no one was going to stop them. These moments of joy were few and far between in the studio. They all wanted to enjoy them while they could.

Not all the Lost Ones believed in what Sammy preached. That was never why they followed him. No, they followed him because he gave them something they couldn’t give to themselves. He played for them a sweet melody of hope and identity. He gave them a chance to feel like people once more. And they would cling to that for as long as they possibly could.

Chapter Text

Charlie Lawrence had a tendency to copy behaviors from their parents. Whether or not they were aware of this themselves was unclear, but the other employees at the studio had certainly noticed.

Wally had been the first to bring it up one day in the breakroom.

“You ever noticed how the kid always taps their cane in the same rhythm Sammy taps his pen when he’s concentratin’?”

Many of the employees put down their sandwiches.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sammy’s got this rhythm he taps with his pen when he’s concentrating,” Wally explained before demonstrating the rhythm. “And the kid taps out the same rhythm with their cane when they’re thinking. I saw ‘em doin’ it when they were working on some essays for school.”

“He’s right,” Norman agreed. “Sometimes when the two of them are in the same room they synch up. It’s pretty fascinating to watch.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy, right?” Wally lit up at the confirmation that he’d been right. “Kid’s like a tiny Sammy sometimes!”

They certainly tended to resemble Sammy in their dress style at least. As they’d gotten older they’d started dressing more like Sammy, with a lot of button-ups and pants with suspenders. Although, they were just as likely to show up in long skirts that looked borrowed from Susie’s closet with floral tops that would have been right at home on the lovely Miss Campbell.

“They’re like a smaller Susie sometimes too,” Tom added. “When they’re not paying attention, they start humming scales the same way Susie does.”

“I’ve heard them do that too!” One of the band members gasped. “The first few times I thought it was Miss Susie, but when I went in to check it was Charlie!”

Susie had a very specific way of doing scales that was instantly recognizable to anyone who had heard her do it before. It wasn’t surprising that Charlie might have picked it up, given they must have heard those scales dozens of times a day for nearly five years now.

“And when they get upset they say "fiddlesticks” like Miss Susie!“ Another band member piped up.

"Or they swear like Sammy, depending on the company,” Norman said.

Tom stifled a snort at the memory of when Charlie had nearly tripped over a pipe and let out the loudest “fuck” he had ever heard them utter. They had been absolutely mortified when they’d realized he had witnessed this and had begged him not to tell their parents. He’d promised he wouldn’t, even though he had a feeling neither Susie nor Sammy would actually care about them swearing. He’d been too busy suppressing laughter to point this out, though.

“You should’ve heard the storm they cussed up when they failed at the shooting gallery,” Wally said, leaning back against a wall.

“They really did sound just like Sammy,” a warehouse worker giggled. “I felt so bad for laughing, but their rant sounded exactly like one Sammy would do!”

“They certainly are their parents’ child,” Norman laughed quietly.

“They certainly are.” Tom couldn’t help but smile to himself. For as frustrated as he could be with Sammy, it was sweet to see how he’d rubbed off on his child.

At the top of the stairs, listening at the door, Susie and Sammy were both tearing up a bit, both out of pride and fondness. They hadn’t realized quite how much Charlie had picked up from them. Sure, they’d noticed Charlie copying some things they did and said in the beginning, but they hadn’t noticed all the little habits Charlie had been picking up.

Charlie truly was their child, weren’t they?

“Mom? Dad? You okay?” They were startled out of their thoughts by Charlie wheeling over in their chair. They were having a bad mobility day, so they were using the chair today.

“Oh, uh, yes! We’re alright, sweetie!” Susie said quickly, straightening up and wiping away her tears.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Sammy agreed, awkwardly clearing his throat.

Charlie frowned slightly, wheeling closer. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“We’re fine,” Susie assured them, smiling softly as she leaned down to hug them. “We’re just really happy you’re in our lives.”

Charlie blushed, hiding their face in Susie’s shoulder. “Mom…” They whined in the signature tone of an embarrassed teenager who was enjoying the love but felt they needed to pretend they were too cool for it.

“We love you a lot, Charlie,” Sammy said, putting his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“You guys!” Charlie further buried their face in Susie’s shoulder. “You’re gonna make me cry!”

“For good reasons, I hope!” Susie said brightly.

Sammy couldn’t help but laugh. “Let’s go get you some food, alright?”

Charlie nodded, withdrawing from Susie with a sniffle. They’d grown so much since they’d come into Susie and Sammy’s lives.

The two of them couldn’t be more proud of their child.

Chapter Text

From the time she’d been very little, Susie Campbell had always known she was destined for the stage.

Performing had been the only time she could get her family’s attention. No one ever had time for her, always too busy with something or another to give Susie the attention she’d craved. But when she’d insisted on putting on a performance, they’d stopped to watch. From the first time they’d applauded her silly little show, she’d known that acting was what she wanted to do.

She lived for the thunderous applause when she took her final bow, for those smiling faces cheering for her and shouting her name.

Her high school hadn’t had a particularly robust theater program, but she’d participated all the same. She’d taken every role she could get, no matter how small, because she was determined to become a professional. And a professional needed practice. She always pretended the applause at the final bow was all for her. Eventually, it would be, she told herself. Eventually, when she took her bow, they would all be cheering for her.

Slowly, she began to work her way into the theater world. She put herself through theater school, participated in every theater production she could, and attended every audition she saw. She got a lot of bit parts, with a few leading roles in small productions. But mostly she got rejected. No matter how many rejections she received, though, she refused to give up. She was determined to make this work. She would succeed. She would be a star.

Then she’d landed the role of Alice Angel. And it had felt like all her dreams were coming true. She was finally going to be a star! People were finally going to recognize her talent and praise her!

For a time, it had been everything she’d ever hoped it would be. Her coworkers all praised her performance, with Sammy even telling her that he thought Alice would be as popular as Bendy someday. Joey had taken her out to dinner and called her Alice. It was everything she’d ever wanted. She took her bows and the audience cheered.

But it hadn’t lasted. Joey and Sammy had begun to draw away, and then one day she’d come into work and found Allison in the recording booth. And just like that, she was relegated to the background once more while someone else took their bow and got the applause. Now that she’d had a taste of that fame, she wasn’t going to be forced back into the chorus. Not again.

She had to fix this.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Wally hated about getting roped into doing mechanical work, it was the conditions it had been to be done in. Janitorial work could be messy, sure, but it didn’t usually require him to crawl into tight spaces to fiddle with things.

Which was what he was currently being required to do.

Currently, he, Tom, and Lacie were in the studio boiler room, trying to work out what was going on with a clog in the pipes.

“I don’t see why we can’t just call a plumber for this kinda stuff,” Wally groaned, tugging on the collar of his shirt. “This isn’t any of our jobs!”

“Drew’s too cheap to hire a plumber,” Tom grumbled from his perch on a step ladder.

“Especially not when he’s got perfectly good free labor to throw at it,” Lacie agreed, rolling her eyes as she fiddled with the boiler.

Wally groaned, throwing his hands up. “I tell ya! If I gotta do any more of these extra jobs-”

“You’re outta here,” Lacie and Tom said in unison. “We know.”

Wally went a bit pink, ducking his head. If he hadn’t taken his hat off due to the heat in the room, he probably would have been tugging it down over his face at this point.

“Yeah yeah, alright, I get it,” he mumbled. “…You guys makin’ any progress in figurin’ out what’s goin’ on?”

“Other than the fact that it’s a miracle this thing still runs?” Lacie tapped the side of the ancient boiler. “Nope.”

“I’m not seeing where the clog might be,” Tom said, craning his head around the pipes. “I- Fuck!” He was cut off as a blast of steam came out of one of the open pipes, blowing onto his hand and causing him to drop the wrench he’d been using.

“You alright?” Wally hurried over to the ladder.

“Shit… I’m fine,” Tom said through gritted teeth, clutching his hand to his chest.

“Go run it under cold water for a little.” Lacie didn’t look up from her tinkering. “Don’t want you getting burned.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tom insisted as he went to pick up his wrench.

Lacie finally looked up, fixing Tom with a look that gave no room for argument. “Go run your hand under cold water,” she repeated firmly. “The pipes aren’t going anywhere.”

Tom hesitated for a moment before letting his shoulders slump. “Fine. I’ll be right back,” he muttered before leaving the room.

Wally watched him leave with wide eyes. “How’d you do that?” He whispered once Tom was gone.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Lacie replied. “Now you get up there and see if you can find the clog.”

Wally had the good sense not to argue with her because he knew he absolutely was not going to win this argument and got up on the step ladder. “I’m startin’ to wonder if there even is a clog,” he said as he started to poke around.

“Might not be.” Lacie shrugged. “Could just be that this thing,” she hit the boiler again for emphasis. “Is finally giving up the ghost.”

“It’s kinda a miracle anythin’ works around here,” Wally said. Now it was his turn to nearly drop the wrench due to a blast of steam, but he managed to avoid getting hit.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Lacie cast a disgusted look around the room. “How’d y'all get all this past inspectors?”

“Pretty sure Mr. Drew pays ‘em off,” Wally said, tentatively sticking his hand into a pipe. “Or some of 'em, at least.”

“Of course he does.” Wally started a bit at the sound of Tom’s voice as he reentered the room. “Found anything yet?”

“I think there’s…. somethin’ in here,” Wally said, shifting to stick his arm further into the pipe. “I can feel something back here… Aha!” He pulled his arm out, triumphantly holding up a clump of… something. It wasn’t clear just what the thing was, just that it looked… pretty disgusting.

“Nice job, Franks.” Tom allowed himself a small smile.

“I’m almost done too,” Lacie said. “Or as done as I can be.”

“Whaddaya mean?” Wally climbed off the ladder.

“There’s a lot of problems with this thing that I just can’t fix,” Lacie explained. “It’d honestly be easier just to replace it.”

“But we know Drew won’t do that,” Tom concluded, running a hand over his face with a sigh.

“Exactly.” Lacie nodded.

“Well, we did what we could.” Wally shrugged slightly.

“We did what we could.” Tom echoed in agreement. “And if Drew wants more, he can damn well hire someone else to fix it.”

“Yeah!” Wally held up his hand for a high five. The hand that was still holding the unidentifiable lump. Tom’s eyes flicked from the clump to Wally and he shook his head. Wally frowned for a moment before seeming to realize what Tom meant.

“Aw, shoot. Lemme take care of this,” he said before hurrying out of the room to take care of the clump.

Tom let out a small snort of laughter. He didn’t know how Wally could remain in such good spirits all the time but… It was kind of life-affirming. He wished he could have that kind of positivity. 

Chapter Text

The Ink Demon was waiting for Audrey when she stepped back into the Studio. He leaned against the ladder and watched her intently as she got up, his tail flicking slowly back and forth.

“Uh… Hey.” Audrey gave an awkward wave.

The Ink Demon remained silent, continuing to watch her.

“You came back,” he finally said after an uncomfortably long period of silence. “Why?” There was a vaguely accusatory edge to his voice, but also genuine confusion.

“I… felt like I owed it to you all,” Audrey replied slowly.

“You owed it to us all.” The Ink Demon sneered, pushing off of the wall to stalk toward her. “How charitable of you. Is that how you view yourself?” His voice took on a sickly sweet tone. “Drew’s darling daughter come to save the poor unfortunate wretches.”

Audrey instinctively stiffened as he grew closer. He still towered over her, something she was sure he was aware of.

“I just want to help,” she said as she tried to hold her ground.

“And who says we need your help?” The Ink Demon loomed in front of her, forcing her to look up to address him.

“I know you don’t need my help,” Audrey said, willing herself to stop shaking. “But I want to help.”

“And why do you want to help?” The Ink Demon demanded, leaning down to bring their faces closer.

“Because I do!” Audrey snapped, unable to stop herself. “Joey was awful to all of you and then Wilson was worse and I…” She trailed off, looking away.

Truth be told, she felt guilty. Guilty that her father had tormented copies of his workers for years, guilty that she basically had a brother she’d never known about who had been cast aside and made to play the monster, guilty that she’d been so desperate to go home that she’d ignored all the red flags about Wilson.

“Ah, so this is about assuaging your guilt.” The Ink Demon let out a derisive laugh as he pulled away.

“And so what if it is?” Audrey forced herself to look back at the Ink Demon. “if I want to help, it shouldn’t matter why I’m doing it.”

“But guilt can only last so long.” The Ink Demon leaned in close again. “What happens when it fades? Will you abandon this place as your father did?”

“No.” Audrey surprised even herself with how quickly and confidently she answered.

The Ink Demon seemed confused by this answer. It was hard to tell given his lack of eyes and rigid grin, but he almost seemed to frown.

“You cannot be sure of that,” he said, although he sounded the least bit unsure.

“I’m not,” Audrey conceded. “But I don’t want to be like Joey. I don’t want to abandon all of you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” the Ink Demon snarled, turning away from her.

Irritation flared in Audrey. “I’m not,” she said. “I’m not promising I’ll never leave, I’m just saying I want to be better than Joey was. Besides…” She paused, folding her arms and looking away. “It would be kind of shitty to abandon the only family I have left.”

The Ink Demon whirled around to face Audrey.

“…You are referring to the shade of Drew that dwells in the sewers, aren’t you?” There was a tension in his voice, a fragile hope that he seemed afraid to feel. And why wouldn’t he be afraid to hope after everything he’d been through?

“No.” Audrey allowed herself a small, nervous smile. “I’m talking about you.”

“We are not family,” the Ink Demon growled. “Do not tempt me with false hope. I know what I am. I am the flawed first draft, cast aside in the pursuit of you, the perfect final creation. I am not your family.” His body and voice had begun to shake, whether with barely contained anger or the threat of tears was unclear.

“A first draft is still a draft,” Audrey insisted. “Joey might not have accepted you as his but…” She reached out for him. “But I do.”

“Lies!” The Ink Demon swiped at her hand. Audrey was able to pull it back quickly enough to avoid getting caught by his claws, but the intent was still there. “Falsehoods!”

“I’m not lying!” Audrey yelled, holding her hand to her chest. “You’re the closest thing I have to family anymore! I want you in my life! I don’t want to be alone!” Now she was on the verge of tears. There was no one else she could talk to about all this ink business and about what she’d learned regarding her father. She still had a lot of complicated feelings about the Ink Demon, but as she’d said, he was the closest thing to family she had at the moment. He understood.

The Ink Demon froze, staring down at her. He was silent for a long time. When he did speak again, his voice was small and vulnerable.

“Do you truly mean that?”

Audrey nodded.

The Ink Demon stared at her for a moment long before lowering his head.

“I… apologize for attacking you,” he said quietly.

“…Apology accepted,” Audrey tentatively replied. “Are we… good now?”

“…I suppose.”

Audrey allowed herself to relax ever so slightly. “So… Where do you want to start?”

“…Start?” The Ink Demon echoed, tilting his head to the side.

“With making things better.” Audrey gestured around them. “Or with…. us.”

The Ink Demon cast a glance around before looking at Audrey once more. “…I would like some food.”

“Well, I can do food,” Audrey said with a tired smile. “Is the cafeteria in Animation Alley alright?”

“…It will do.”

“Great. Let’s go, then.” Audrey headed past the Ink Demon, clambering up the ladder. The Ink Demon hesitated for a moment before following, something that would look rather comical to any outside observer.

Things weren’t exactly fixed yet, but… They were getting better. It was a step in the right direction.

Chapter Text

Joey knew the things he’d done could never be erased.

His actions had hurt a lot of people and left scars that would likely never truly heal. And for a long time, he thought that those actions would define him for the rest of his life. That he would never be able to move past the pain he’d caused.

He’d been wrong.

Near the beginning of his stay with Esther, she’d sat him down and given him a talk about not wallowing in his own self-pity.

“You can’t change what you did. And, yes, there are a lot of people who are probably never going to forgive you. But, again, you can’t change that. Wallowing in your owl self-pity isn’t going to help you or anyone. So, please, for my sake and yours, don’t torment yourself. The only thing you can do is try to be better than you were. ”

And, for a bit, he didn’t want to follow her advice. He just kept replaying in his mind all the things he’d done wrong. All the people he’d hurt. How was he supposed to move on from that? How was he supposed to get better? He’d isolated himself from his family, refusing to interact with them no matter how many times they held a hand out to him.

But then, one day, he’d woken up and realized that the life he was living was no different from the one he’d had while trapped in the ink. After that, he’d started taking his family up on their invitations. He went to synagogue with the family on Saturdays, went out to museums with them, played board games with them at night, and helped with the cooking.

And he found himself… Actually happy.

He still had nightmares about his time in the ink sometimes, but they were growing fewer and farther between. He no longer feared the rising of the morning sun, nor being alone with his thoughts at night. He started drawing again, even taking painting lessons at a local community center. Although his work wasn’t very good, it didn’t bother him. He was just happy to be doing it. No matter how messy and clumsy his paintings were, he felt a sense of pride and accomplishment upon completing them.

He started spending time with Audrey, trying to build a relationship with her. It wasn’t exactly the standard father-daughter relationship, but he didn’t care. He was just happy to be around her. He knew he could never make up for abandoning her the way he did, and he wasn’t going to ask her to forgive him, but he wanted to be a part of her life now. Something Audrey reluctantly accepted.

He was never going to erase what he’d done. He knew that now. But he could be better than he was before. That was one promise he was going to fulfill. 

Chapter Text

Upon one summer’s morning, I carefully did stray

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a young lass who seemed to be in pain

Saying, “William, when you go, I fear you’ll ne'er return again”

There was something that lived in the ink river.

Everyone knew it.

They could all hear the singing that came from the river when no one was around. It was a haunting sound, like nothing any of them had ever heard before. It reverberated through the cavernous underground, amplified and reverberating off of the cave walls.

“Why are you all so afraid of some singing?” Some of the Lost Ones demanded of their peers. “The Angel sings as well. Isn’t her singing just as scary?”

True, the Angel’s singing was an eerie sound, they all agreed about that, but her singing was nothing like the singing that came from the river. The singing from the river was… unearthly. Otherworldly. Although it was just wordless vocalizing, it seemed to touch your very core, promising experiences the Lost Ones had long since forgotten the feeling of. It compelled those who heard it to come closer, to seek it out.

But all the Lost Ones agreed, they absolutely didn’t want to know what the source of that singing was. The Angel and the half-remembered stories of creatures with equally beautiful singing promised that the Lost Ones wouldn’t like what they’d find.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

However, one day, one bold Lost One decided he would find the source of the singing. Surely, he thought, such beautiful music could never come from something cruel. It should be noted that he had never encountered the Angel, as many of his peers had. The only singing he’d ever heard in the studio was the Prophet’s, and the Prophet had always been kind to them. So, when all the others were asleep or occupied, the Lost One crept down to the dock and got onto one of their ramshackle boats, setting off to find the source of the singing.

The further he got from the harbor, the louder the singing became. It wormed its way into the Lost One’s mind, slowing his movements and dulling his senses. He was so entranced that he failed to notice the source of the song seemed to be getting closer. There were ripples in the ink of the river as something approached. And then… a head appeared from the ink.

The head of a beautiful woman.

His hair, it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal

My happiness attend him wherever he may go

From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I’ll wander, weep and moan

All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home

She had large, pie-cut eyes like the Alice in the posters, an adorable button-nose, and a small smiling mouth done up with lipstick. Her long black hair pooled around her in the water, some of it hanging over her face. She looked so… perfect. So untouched by the horrors of this place.

“Were… you the one singing?” The Lost One asked, stumbling to the side of the boat.

The woman in the ink nodded, her expression remaining a static smile.

“Do you…. live in the river?” The Lost One leaned out, trying to get closer to the beautiful woman. He’d never seen something this perfect before.

The woman nodded again, letting out a little giggle. Her lips didn’t move.

“What’s your name?” The Lost One reached out for her, but the woman disappeared under the ink.

“Wait! Don’t go!” The Lost One looked around wildly. To his relief, the woman’s head reappeared once more, a few feet away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, approaching the bow of the ship.

The woman giggled again. A hand rose from the ink, beckoning him closer. The Lost One was so enraptured by her face that he failed to notice how unsettling her hand looked. The fingers were long, knobbly, and clawed. There was webbing between the fingers and fins along the side of the forearm. It looked far more fishlike than her face would indicate.

But, as I said, the Lost One failed to notice this. Instead, he fired up the motor to move the boat closer. However, as he began to move the boat, the woman disappeared under the ink again, only reappearing when the Lost One killed the motor.

“Why do you keep running?” The Lost One asked.

The woman raised her hand to gesture to him again.

“I want to get closer,” he said, trying not to get too annoyed. “But you go away every time I turn the motor on.”

The woman continued to gesture.

“Come in,” she said. Her voice sounded like a gurgle. As though she were speaking from underwater. Her lips still didn’t move.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

The Lost One stopped. “You want me to… go in the ink?” He asked, his voice beginning to shake.

The woman nodded.

“But if I go in the ink, I’ll go back into the puddles,” he said.

The woman was silent for a moment or two, seeming to consider this.

“Follow me,” she finally said. Then, she dipped out of sight, reappearing a few feet away once more.

This time, when the Lost Ones started the engine, she didn’t disappear. Instead, she led him to a dock he’d never been before, one on the other end of the river.

“I’ve never been here before,” he remarked as he docked the boat and stepped onto the dock. “It’s nice. A lot nicer than the dock at the harbor.”

He looked back at the woman, who was still in the ink. Only her head was still visible.

“Aren’t you going to come out of the ink?” The Lost One asked, approaching the river.

The woman didn’t answer, but she did move toward him. As she did, more and more of her rose out of the ink, revealing exactly what she’d been hiding.

My name, it is Maria, a merchant’s daughter fair

And I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year

Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor that ploughs the raging sea

While up aloft in storm, from me his absence mourn

And firmly pray, arrive the day, he’s never more to roam

Everything about her looked… wrong. Although she did have a humanoid upper body, she seemed more eel than person, her proportions elongated and emaciated. She had a long, thick tail where her legs should have been, the surface mottled and slimy. The thing he thought was her face seemed to instead be some sort of mask on the top of her head, beneath which was her true eel-like face.

She smiled at him, bearing a mouth full of needle-sharp fangs as she clawed her way up the dock toward the Lost One.

“What… What are you?” The Lost One stammered, stumbling away from her.

The creature smiled wider. “Hungry…”

Then, she lunged for the Lost One.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

When Allison ventured out to the dock to check what the screaming had been about, she found nothing but splatters of ink and a trail leading back into the river, along with a single abandoned boat.

And on the wind, there was the sound of singing coming from the river.

Allison immediately went back inside, sure she didn’t want to know what had happened.

Chapter Text

From the time they’d been very young, Joey had been convinced he and Nathan were rivals. He’d spent most of his life being compared to Nathan, always hearing about what Nathan was doing and how well he was doing it. While Joey didn’t think Nathan’s family compared him to Joey, he assumed Nathan was deliberately trying to one-up him and prove he was better than Joey.

This, evidently, was not a view that Nathan shared.

As far as Nathan was concerned, he and Joey were the best of friends and had been such since they’d been children.

Joey had learned this not long before his 20-year stint in the ink. He’d been at a party being thrown by Nathan that he assumed Nathan had only invited him to so he could rub his success in Joey’s face. Joey had not been in the best mental state at that moment, as evidenced by the dark bags under his eyes and pale complexion, but he’d cleaned himself up to save face in front of Nathan and the other elites. Still, his state hadn’t gone unnoticed by Nathan.

“Joey!” Nathan boomed, putting an arm around Joey and pulling him close. “It’s so good to see you, my friend! I was worried you wouldn’t be able to come!”

Joey forced a smile as he was pressed against Nathan’s side. “Yes, well, I thought it would be rude to turn down another of your invitations.”

“You’ve got him thinking you’re avoiding him,” Tessa remarked, gliding up to them.

Joey stiffened a bit upon hearing Tessa’s voice, his smile turning into something more like a grimace. Tessa had always reminded him a bit of Esther, which meant he tended to find himself more than a bit nervous around her. Like his sister, he knew she wasn’t someone to be messed with.

“Ah, it’s nothing like that,” Joey said quickly. “I’ve just been busy lately. The studio’s been taking up a lot of my time.”

“You’re working yourself too hard, Joey,” Nathan said, his smile becoming concerned. “Look at how pale you are.”

“I know, I know.” Joey tried not to let too much annoyance leak into his voice. “I just…” He trailed off, letting his smile drop. “The studio means a lot to me, Nate.”

He didn’t know why he was letting his mask slip now, around the man who was his greatest rival. The man who would no doubt take advantage of his weakness. He was just… so tired.

Nathan’s expression softened. “I know, Joey,” he said, gently patting Joey’s shoulder. “Tell you what, I’ll get you a drink and we can talk about getting you some more funding.”

“Nathan.” Tessa’s voice took on a warning tone. “You’ve already loaned him quite a bit.”

Nathan gave her a sheepish smile, removing his arm from Joey. “You know how much this place means to him, Tessa.”

Tessa sighed and shook her head, but still smiled. “Alright. We can talk about it once you get those drinks.”

Nathan’s smile brightened once more and he quickly hurried off to get the drinks.

“Sorry about that.” Joey offered his own sheepish smile to Tessa.

“It’s fine.” Tessa waved a gloved hand dismissively before smoothing out her purple dress. “You’re his friend and he wants to help you. Even if that help can be a bit… pointless at times,” she added, her gaze sharpening slightly as her eyes landed on Joey.

The glance sent a shiver up Joey’s spine. But something else took his attention.

“He… thinks of me as his friend?” He asked.

Tessa frowned slightly, the sharpness leaving her eyes. “Of course. You’ve been friends since you were children, haven’t you?”

Joey stared blankly at her.

Tessa stared back at him before she abruptly broke into laughter. “Did you not realize you two were friends?” She asked, unable to hide the smile on her face.

“I-I thought we were rivals!” Joey sputtered, feeling his cheeks growing warm. “Constantly trying to one-up each other!”

“Well, Nathan certainly doesn’t see it that way,” Tessa said, still smiling wide. “He really admires you, you know.”

“He… admires me?” Joey could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“Yes.” Tessa nodded. “I’ve never known him to be terribly interested in art, but he’s always been interested in your art.”

“…He has?” Joey’s voice was small and unsure.

“He has. Why do you think he’s so willing to give you money?”

Joey had no answer for this. Frankly, he’d just assumed Nathan wanted to have Joey in his debt. But to know that Nathan’s monetary assistance was given out of genuine admiration…

He wasn’t sure how to feel.

He’d assumed for so long that everyone wanted him to fail that knowing someone was genuinely rooting for his success was… hard to believe.

He was jolted from this train of thought by Nathan’s return.

“I’ve got the drinks!” Nathan proclaimed, striding back over to them.

“Ah, uh, thank you.” Joey forced a smile again as he accepted the drink.

“Now, why don’t we talk about that funding?” Nathan suggested.

“Why don’t we wait?” Joey said, surprising even himself with his words.

“Are you sure?” Nathan asked with a slight frown.

Joey nodded, allowing himself a more genuine smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten a chance to talk to you. We can talk business later. I want to hear about what’s going on with you.”

Nathan still looked a bit unsure but smiled back. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind catching up.”

“I’ll leave you boys to it,” Tessa said with a smile of her own. “Have fun, you two.”

Then she was gliding away to greet other guests.

Nathan and Joey spent the rest of the party talking, just the two of them. Joey had to admit, it was… nice. The two of them remembered childhood events he hadn’t thought about in years, laughing and joking in a way they never had before.

Joey couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy.

It was this memory, among a few others, that he would hold onto during those 20 years in the ink. He remembered Nathan’s smile and tried to believe he would see that smile again someday.

He had to believe he would escape. Eventually.

Chapter Text

She almost didn’t recognize the studio in the dark like this. All the familiar hallways and rooms appeared alien in the dim light, everything seeming to twist and warp as she limped down the halls. She knew what the way out was, but she just couldn’t seem to find it with everything looking so unfamiliar. Her heart pounded in her ears, her lungs burned, and her ankle throbbed, but she knew she couldn’t stop. Not until she was safely out of the studio.

She couldn’t let him catch her.

“Little lamb…” Sammy’s voice drifted toward her. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from, which only made her heart beat even faster. “Little lamb… come out. I have such wonders to show you.”

She could hear the unsteady thumping of his steps growing closer, along with the scraping of the ax he was dragging along. She looked frantically around. He was close. She needed to hide or he’d find her and… An involuntary shiver ripped through her body at the memory of the Ink Machine. The acrid smell of ink still filled her nostrils.

Come now, my dear. Won’t you be a good girl for me?

She tried to stifle a sob as she ducked into one of the nearby offices, tucking herself under one of the desks. She couldn’t let this be the end for her. She couldn’t let Joey win.

“Little lamb…” Sammy’s voice was almost at the door. “Where have you gone?”

Slowly, his footsteps and the scraping of his ax drew closer and closer. Until he stopped right outside the door to the office.

She covered her mouth, holding her breath and praying he wouldn’t look inside.

“Cordelia?” Suddenly, his voice sounded almost normal. It was almost enough to make her leave her hiding spot.

Almost.

“Cordelia… please.” A pleading note entered his voice. “Please come out. I just want us to be together again. The way it used to be. I miss you so much. I’ve been by myself here for so long…”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she curled herself into an even tighter ball. She wanted things to go back to the way they used to be too. She missed him too. But this wasn’t him anymore. This wasn’t her friend. Whatever Joey had done to him… the old Sammy Lawrence was long gone.

She jumped a bit as there was a loud bang and a frustrated yell.

“LITTLE LAMB!” Sammy roared, evidently frustrated that his emotional appeal hadn’t worked. “I AM LOSING MY PATIENCE!”

She let out a quiet whimper.

For a moment, everything was silent and still.

Then two glowing eyes appeared in her field of vision.

“I found you~”

She screamed and kicked as he dragged her out from her hiding place.

“You’ve been very naughty, little lamb~” He sang. “But don’t worry. I forgive you. I will always forgive my darling acolyte.”

“Let go of me!” She tried to shove him away, but his grip held strong.

“We’re going to be together again, my sweet disciple,” Sammy said, pulling her out of the office. “As it was always meant to be.”

As he dragged her, she stumbled, causing her to put weight on her ankle. She yelped in pain, finding herself crashing to the ground as she was unable to hold her weight. Sammy paused, looking down at her.

“My my, do I need to carry you to your baptism, my dear?” He chided her gently.

She didn’t reply. She couldn’t keep doing this. She was too tired and her ankle hurt too much to keep fighting. This was it. This was how it was going to end for her.

…She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to Roy. He would never know what happened to her. Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of her brother all alone in their house, wondering for the rest of his life where his little sister had gone. He would never get any answers if she fell here, he was sure of it.

However, as she lay there, she noticed Sammy’s grip on his ax was particularly loose. He even looked about ready to put it down. This was her chance.

As Sammy began to put the ax down, she surged forward and grabbed it, pushing him away from her as she stumbled to her feet. Her ankle was screaming, but she pushed through the pain, striking Sammy with the ax before taking off again. She could hear Sammy screaming behind her, but she didn’t stop.

She was going to get out.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing the employees of Joey Drew Studios loved, it was juicy gossip. Rumors were constantly being passed around, with old ones often being discarded the second a new one came around.

But one rumor that had persisted was the one about Sammy Lawrence and his secretary.

Sammy was difficult to work with. Everyone knew this. He was grumpy, temperamental, and prone to yelling at people over the slightest inconvenience. The only people who were able to reliably deal with him were Jack, Susie, and… Cordelia. Jack was Sammy’s best friend, seemingly, so it made sense that he would know how to calm Sammy, and Susie clearly had some kind of romantic relationship with Sammy which allowed her to reign him in.

Which left Cordelia.

Given Susie’s romantic relationship with Sammy seemed to be the reason she was able to deal with him, it wasn’t too much of a leap to assume that Cordelia and Sammy had a romantic relationship as well. Besides, what other reason would there be for the two of them to be as close as they were?

No matter what other rumors arose in the studio, the rumors about Sammy and Cordelia persisted. The whispers and sidelong glances were always there, always in the periphery. The employees watched the two of them intently, looking for anything that could be used as evidence to prove the rumors true.

Sammy, to his credit, dealt with the rumors the same way he dealt with nearly everything in the studio. By snapping that they were a waste of time and that surely people had better things to do than spread such bullshit. He did seem a bit angrier about the rumors than some of his normal annoyances, but no one thought that was out of the ordinary.

Cordelia dealt with the rumors with all the grace and professionalism she usually displayed, saying the rumors were silly and untrue and she would never do something so unprofessional. However, it didn’t take long to figure out that if she was pushed hard enough, she would fight back.

Up until the first time she snapped at someone over the rumor, no one in the studio had ever seen Cordelia angry. They’d seen her get annoyed and frustrated, but never truly angry.

She’d been organizing some papers when the “brave” employees had approached, snickering and whispering to one another. She had to have known what they were there about. The ones who approached her about the rumors were never subtle. No one remembered what exactly the young man had said. It didn’t really matter what he’d said, in the end. What mattered was Cordelia’s reaction.

The young men had expected she would react the same way she always had. With a tight smile and a scolding about how they should be doing their work instead of listening to gossip. Instead, Cordelia’s expression had immediately darkened and she’d slammed the papers down on her desk.

“Leave,” she said, her voice low.

The young men blinked, glancing at one another. “But we-”

“Leave,” Cordelia repeated, more forcefully this time. “I’m not in the mood to deal with this nonsense right now.”

“But-”

“What part of what I said was confusing to you?” She snapped, cutting off whatever excuses they were about to give. “I have actual work I need to be doing right now and I’m not going to have my time wasted again because two more idiots want to ask about things that are frankly none of their business.”

Her voice was cold and her expression looked positively murderous. Both men took a step back from the sheer force of her gaze.

“I will tell you this once and only once,” she continued. “No, I am not sleeping with Mr. Lawrence. And even if I was, it wouldn’t be any of your business. Do not ask me about this again.”

“Ye-Yes, ma'am,” the men said together. They almost wished she’d yelled at them. That would have been much less terrifying than the cold and calm anger they were experiencing now.

“Now.” Cordelia picked up her papers, narrowing her eyes at her unwanted guests. “Leave.”

They didn’t need to be told twice, immediately scrambling away down the hallway and back upstairs to the art department.

In his office, Sammy couldn’t help but smile, turning back to his work.

No one asked Cordelia about the rumors for the next few months.

Chapter Text

“Sillyvision?” Henry asked incredulously as he looked up from the paper Joey had handed him.

Said paper was a report from Joey that they were going to give to investors to explain how they’d be making their animations. The part Henry had picked up on specifically was what Joey had named the film process. He wasn’t sure why he’d fixated on that, but he just had to ask about it.

“Yes!” Joey replied brightly. “To emphasize the family-friendly nature of our pictures!” He spread his hands in a grand gesture, grinning ear to ear.

Henry couldn’t but laugh. “Joey, our main character’s a demon.”

“And?” Joey’s expression turned to one of vague annoyance as he lowered his hands

“And.” Henry put the paper down on the desk in front of him. “I don’t think most people would consider a demon to be particularly family-friendly.”

Joey rolled his eyes and scoffed. “What do they know? It’s not like we’re going to be advocating for devil worship.”

“Some people might see it that way.” Henry gave a grimace.

Joey grumbled, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.

“I do think this is good, though,” Henry continued, tapping the paper. “It could use some editing, but it’s a good start. And Sillyvision, if that’s what you want to call it, seems like a good process to use.”

Joey visibly brightened. “You think so?”

“I do.” Henry nodded. “I think we can really do this, Joey.”

Joey’s smile widened. “I told you we could. Are you just now starting to believe me?”

“Starting a studio is a big thing!” Henry reached over to gently shove Joey’s shoulder. “Of course I have my doubts. But seeing it laid out like this…” He glanced down at the paper again. “It feels more… real, you know? More plausible.”

Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined he would be doing something like this. Moving pictures were still such a new thing, and animation was even newer. To be part of a legitimate widescale operation making animations… It wasn’t something Henry had ever predicted he’d be doing. He’d never considered himself any sort of pioneer or trailblazer. He’d never had particularly big dreams.

But, Joey had a habit of bringing those dreams out in a person, he supposed. Joey Drew dreamed big, and he made you want to dream big too.

Joey’s expression softened and he put a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “We’re going to do great things, Henry. Just trust me.”

Henry hesitated for a moment, then put his hand over Joey’s. “I do,” he said. “I trust you, Joey.”

He had no idea how he would come to regret those words in the year to come.

Chapter Text

The Ink Demon liked to listen to Henry’s heartbeat.

In the times when they were separated, rare though they were, they liked to find a quiet spot and just… cuddle together. Generally, the Ink Demon was in his tinier form, slotting his head under Henry’s chin and pressing himself against Henry’s chest while Henry wrapped his arms around the little demon. Listening to Henry’s heartbeat was comforting for the Ink Demon. Even if it was necessarily the sound of a normal heartbeat, the rhythm soothed him. And being held was rather nice.

However… doubts lingered in the Ink Demon’s heart. A part of him feared that Henry was only so willing to hold him because his form was currently a palatable one. Would Henry still want to hold him if he was in his true form? Would Henry still be tender if the Ink Demon looked like the mistake Joey had always said he was?

“Do you prefer me this way?” He asked one day, unable to keep the question to himself any longer.

“Like what?” Henry asked, continuing to stroke the side of the Ink Demon’s head.

“Like this.” The Ink Demon gestured to himself. “Do you prefer me when I’m small like this?”

“Do you like being like this?”

Irritation flared in the Ink Demon’s chest, and part of him longed to slam Henry against a wall for his insolence. But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed where he was.

“No,” he replied. “I find this form incredibly uncomfortable.”

“Then, no,” Henry said. “I don’t prefer you this way.”

The Ink Demon frowned. “What does my comfort have to do with your preference?”

“Well, I’d prefer you to be comfortable,” Henry said with a little laugh.

The Ink Demon’s frown deepened as he pulled away from Henry, staring at him with clear confusion. “Why do you care if I’m comfortable?”

Henry gave him an equally confused-looking smile. “Because I care about you?”

“Why do you care about me?” The Ink Demon pressed.

In retrospect, maybe the Ink Demon should have asked these questions sooner. He and Henry had been working together for a bit now, but never once had he considered that Henry genuinely cared about him. He had assumed Henry was working with him solely because they had a common goal.

Henry’s expression softened and he reached out and put a hand on the Ink Demon’s cheek. “Because we’re both victims here, bud,” he said. The weariness of his voice betrayed those countless cycles. The countless loops spent dancing on Joey’s puppet strings, acting out his revenge story over and over. Neither of them had had any power in that situation. Only now did they have some modicum of power.

“But I tormented you for years,” the Ink Demon insisted. “I killed you. I hurt you. I tormented everyone in this place.”

“And not everyone will forgive you for that,” Henry said, remaining calm. “But the way I see it, you were just fulfilling the role Joey shoved you into. You didn’t ask to be a monster.”

“So you would…” The Ink Demon paused, unable to look Henry in the eye for his next question. “You would… hold me even if I looked… the way I used to?”

Henry chuckled as he patted the Ink Demon between the horns. “Yes, I would hold you even in your true form.”

The Ink Demon grumbled a bit at the head pats. He was still smiling, though. He’d long dreamed of receiving this answer, but he hadn’t expected to ever hear it. It felt… so much better than he had ever expected it would. Finally… Finally, someone accepted him. Finally, someone looked at him and wasn’t afraid. A part of him felt like crying from sheer relief.

“That answer is… satisfactory,” the Ink Demon proclaimed before laying back down against Henry’s chest. “…Thank you, Henry,” he added quietly. “I… appreciate you.”

“I appreciate you too, bud.” Henry kissed the top of the Ink Demon’s head.

They stayed there for a little bit longer, just enjoying the peace of each other’s company. These moments were few and far between. They would enjoy them where they could. After all, they only had each other now.

Chapter Text

“‘Ey, college boy!”

Tom paused, glancing back at where Wally was leaning against the wall of the stairwell a few steps behind him. “Yes?”

Currently, the two of them were transporting some machinery from Level 9 up to Level L, a process that had been incredibly taxing thus far. Even Tom was finding himself exhausted by the endeavor, which meant Wally was struggling even more.

“Mind tellin’ me why we’re luggin’ this stuff up five flights of stairs instead of usin’ the perfectly good elevator?” Wally asked, taking off his cap to push back the hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

Tom stiffened, setting the machine he’d been carrying down on the step beside him.

“Well?” Wally leaned on the railing, one hand on his hip.

“I don’t trust it,” Tom replied, absentmindedly wiping his hands on the front of his coveralls.

“You don’t trust it?” Wally echoed. “How come?”

Tom snorted derisively. “Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it,” Wally said with a frown. “Still not seein’ why you don’t trust it, though.”

“Well, then you know how finicky it can be,” Tom replied. “Sometimes the doors open, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes it comes, sometimes it just keeps going to Hell and back. Someone’s going to end up falling to their death sooner or later and I’m not going to let it be me.”

Wally’s frown deepened as he continued to lean on the railing.

“Do you see why I don’t trust it now?” Tom asked.

Wally let out a loud sigh, pushing off of the railing. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Then you see why I’m making us do this.” Tom picked up the machine once more. “Now let’s get this over with.”

“We could use it just once,” Wally said, although he did pick up his own machine. “This is such a pain.”

“I’m not taking any chances.” Tom’s voice left no room for argument. “The elevator’s unreliable enough when added weight isn’t factored in.”

He had no idea what might happen if they put such heavy machinery in the elevator. Especially not with all the corners Joey had cut. Part of him expected the cable would just snap and the elevator would go plummeting to the bottom.

“…Good point,” Wally conceded, before sighing loudly again. “This is still a huge pain, though!”

“It is.” Tom grunted a bit as he hoisted the machine onto the platform between floors and began to drag it toward the next set of stairs. “But I’d rather be inconvenienced than dead.”

“I mean, yeah. Not bein’ dead is pretty great.” Wally reached the landing and paused, catching his breath. “Guess it’s good someone’s lookin’ out for us at least.”

Tom stiffened again, although for different reasons this time. Did he truly deserve such praise? Yes, he was looking out for Wally right now, but how long would that last? What would he do if Joey asked him to use Wally in one of the Ink Machine experiments?

“…Someone has to,” he muttered, trying to move a bit faster.

“Well, thanks, college boy!” Wally called after him, completely unaware of how cruel those words sounded to Tom’s ears.

Chapter Text

Many in the studio looked at Sammy’s obsession with the Ink Demon and thought him a fool. After all, what was the point in worshipping something more likely to kill you than reward you?

But Sammy was no fool.

Although he might not have been completely sure what powers the Ink Demon had, he knew the Ink Demon was capable of much more than the average ink creature. The Ink Demon had power. What that power was, Sammy wasn’t sure, but he knew it was power no one else in the studio possessed. Save, perhaps, for that man whose face seemed so strangely familiar. And while Sammy was well aware the Ink Demon couldn’t care less about him, he knew it was safer to try to appease the Demon than make himself an enemy of it.

Sammy Lawrence was a follower at heart. He always had been. Loathe as he was to admit it, in the depths of his heart he knew it to be true. He called others sheep, but he knew he was the greatest sheep. He needed someone powerful to follow. An obsession calmed him. It gave him a purpose, a direction.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t tried to escape from this strange prison he’d found himself in. His purpose had been taken from him. That man claimed the Ink Demon had been destroyed. Although Sammy didn’t believe this claim, he knew something had happened to the Ink Demon. Something terrible. Sammy’s worldview had been shattered. Everything had changed and he didn’t know what to do anymore.

“Why not just follow our captor?” The Angel had mocked him when they’d occupied the cells together. “Be a good little sheep and follow your new shepherd.”

But Sammy would not follow Wilson. The Ink Demon was cruel and capricious, yes, but there was no malice behind his actions. He didn’t hate them. But Wilson did. Every time he spoke to Sammy, he could hear the disdain in the other man’s voice, the sheer loathing Wilson possessed for the creatures of the ink that populated this place. And Sammy refused to follow a man like that.

So, he remained in his cell and he played his banjo, praying his congregation could forgive him these trespasses.

Chapter Text

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. It wasn’t supposed to be possible. The ink creatures weren’t supposed to be able to break through to Joey. They weren’t supposed to be able to hurt him. And yet, it had happened all the same. And here he was, tied up in a corner of the Final Reel room, watching as Cordelia tinkered with the projectors around the throne.

“Cordelia.” Joey awkwardly cleared his throat, turning on the charm. “You really don’t need to do this. I’m sure we can work something out! I can-”

“Don’t.” Cordelia cut him off. “You don’t get to talk your way out of this one.”

“I just think this is a bit extreme-”

“You don’t get to have an opinion about this!” Cordelia rounded on him, ink seeping down her cheeks. “You’ve been torturing us for decades! You don’t get to tell me what’s extreme!”

Joey cringed back, drawing into himself. “I…suppose you have a point,” he conceded.

“Oh, so you’re admitting it?” Cordelia sneered. “You must really be afraid.”

“I…I am afraid.” Maybe if he admitted it, she’d go easy on him. Maybe if he was honest and vulnerable, she’d have pity on him. Cordelia was a very kind woman, wasn’t she?

Cordelia stared at him for a long time, her expression unreadable. Golden ink was leaking from her eyes, nose, and mouth, and her irises glowed gold against the stark black of her sclera. She cut a terrifying figure, especially with the way her heart appeared to be literally bulging out of her chest, beating rapidly just beneath her inky skin. Strips of film wrapped around her neck, almost like a noose, although the film was draped over various other parts of her body as well.

The golden ink appeared to be taking quite a toll on her. Maybe if he could keep her talking for long enough she would just… fall apart. Would that be too much to hope for?

“Good,” Cordelia finally said, her voice small and hurt. “Now you know how I felt. How Buddy felt.” Joey winced at the mention of the boy. “You’ve kept us in fear for so long. You deserve to know what it feels like.”

“What… What are you going to do to me?” Joey asked quietly.

Cordelia smiled, showing all her teeth and blackened gums. “I’m going to make you an offering,” she said.

“An… offering?” Joey echoed.

“Yes, to whatever magic holds this place together.” She gestured around them. “If I sacrifice you to it, then I might be able to gain control of this world.”

“You can’t seriously expect that’s going to work-” Joey began, only for Cordelia to cut him off again.

“It’s worth a try!” She snapped, looming over him. “It’s better than letting you control us! And even if it doesn’t work, you’ll still be dead!” She smiled wider, the expression wild and manic. “You’ll be dead and we can forge our own path!”

Her heart began to beat even faster, bulging out to the extent that Joey was almost worried that it was going to burst out of her chest.

“You deserve death for what you’ve done to us,” Cordelia said, leaning closer to Joey. “It wasn’t bad enough for you to torment us while we were working for you. You had to make a whole pocket dimension to torture us. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Joey? Isn’t it pathetic to be so stuck in the past that you’re still hung up on things that happened decades ago?”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that!” Joey yelled, rage overpowering his fear. “You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

“And you have no idea what we’ve been through!” Cordelia bit back, jabbing an ink-stained finger into Joey’s chest. “Do you have any idea how horrible it is to realize you’re not even a real person?! Do you know how terrifying it is to find out your whole life is a lie and that you only exist in some sad, pathetic man’s revenge fantasy?”

Her eyes bored into Joey’s, glowing ever brighter.

“I… had my reasons.” Joey looked away, unable to keep holding Cordelia’s gaze.

“Oh really?” Her voice took on a sickly sweet tone. “And what were your reasons, Mr. Drew? Tell me, why would you do all of this?”

Joey hunched his shoulders, shrinking away from her. “I… I just wanted Henry to hurt the way that I did. He left me.”

“You drove him away,” Cordelia said, the sweetness abruptly vanishing as she grabbed Joey’s face and made him look at her. “Everyone said so. You put too much pressure on him and he left for his own health and safety. All of us should have left too. But we didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Her grip on his chin tightened. Her face was growing gaunter, horns rising from her head, lifting her veil as they did. “You got lucky, Joey.”

Joey could hear his heart pounding in his years. God… He really was going to die here, wasn’t he?

“…If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to listen to this anymore.”

Cordelia let out a cruel chuckle. “Well, that might be the first thing we agree on.” She let go of his face, shoving him back and heading to the table with the projectors, which Joey now realized contained an ax, rather like the one Sammy had carried.

“Now.” She picked up the ax, slowly turning to face Joey as her body grew taller and thinner. He could hear her bones snapping and cracking, scraping against each other as she grew. She was looking more like the Ink Demon by the minute. “Why don’t we get started?”

Chapter Text

People tended to overlook Wally. He was just the janitor, after all. Not really anyone worth paying attention to. They hardly noticed him coming into their offices to empty the trash or him sweeping in the background while they held meetings. When he wasn’t talking, he was invisible to his coworkers, practically a ghost.

And that was exactly how Wally liked it.

See, it was safer to be overlooked, especially in a place like Joey Drew Studios. When shit got spooky and scary, you wanted to be the least threatening person in the room. So, Wally played the fool and put on the mask of the loud and clumsy janitor who was always losing his keys. And his coworkers started to think they knew what to expect from him. They slotted him into a box in their minds and forgot about him. They never seemed to realize just how much he saw and heard.

After all, no one pays attention to the janitor unless he fucks up.

However, there was one person who saw behind Wally’s mask.

And that was Norman Polk.

Because, like Wally, very few people paid attention to Norman, which allowed him to see and hear quite a lot. Where Wally relied on people’s expectations, Norman relied on just not being seen at all. Even Wally failed to notice him at times. And it was through that ability to go unnoticed that Norman realized just how many important events Wally had witnessed.

“You’re a lot smarter than anyone gives you credit for,” Norman remarked one day when Wally had come up to the projection booth to empty his trashcan.

Wally fumbled, nearly dropping the trashcan. “What- Whaddaya mean?” He asked, his voice pitching a bit higher in surprise.

Norman shifted slightly, languidly crossing one leg over the other. “You’re a lot smarter than anyone gives you credit for,” he repeated, completely calm.

“What makes you say that?” Wally avoided eye contact as he shakily emptied the bin into his trash bag.

“People don’t notice, but you’re in the background for a lot of things,” Norman said, leaning casually back in his chair. “Business meetings, fights, conversations between our coworkers. When secrets are being spilled, you’re there, just in the background.”

Wally paused, then laughed as he turned to face Norman. “You fishin’ for information, Norman?”

Norman put his hands up. “I’m not fishing. I’m just saying, it’d be nice to swap secrets with someone who knows as much as I do.”

“Really?” Wally raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “You think I’m on your level?”

“Oh, I know you are,” Norman said, returning Wally’s smile with one of his own.

Wally watched him for a moment or two before giving a nod. “Alright. Meet me out back after work. We can get a drink.”

Norman nodded back. “Sounds good to me.”

Sure enough, the two of them met up outside the back door after the work day had ended. Norman got there first, with Wally showing up nearly half an hour later.

“Sorry,” he said as he rushed out the back door. “Got chewed out by Sammy ‘cause I lost my keys again.”

“Why do you do that?” Norman asked as Wally gestured for him to follow as he set off down the street.

“Why do I do what?” Wally glanced back.

“Why do you pretend to be an idiot?” Norman picked up his pace a bit to keep up with Wally. “You lose your keys on purpose. I’ve seen you drop them in a trashcan and pick them up again later.”

“Wasn’t always pretending,” Wally insisted. “The first couple of times I really did lose my keys.”

“But why keep doing it?” Norman pressed. “Why let everyone think you’re an idiot?”

Wally went quiet for a moment or two, his expression surprisingly solemn.

“’S easier that way,” he finally said.

Norman frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s easier when people don’t think you’re a threat,” Wally said. His normally cheerful and goofy expression was gone, replaced with one of calm understanding. “There’s no way I’d be safe in the studio if people realized I knew half the stuff I do. If they just think I’m an idiot, there’s no reason for them to pay attention to me.”

Norman considered this, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“Makes sense,” he said. “Sorry for questioning you.”

“Eh, it’s fine.” Wally’s smile returned as he gently bumped his shoulder against Norman’s. “I get it. It seems weird to want everyone to think you’re dumb.”

“We all do weird things to stay safe.” Norman let out a weary sigh. “That’s the nature of the world.”

“Hey! Enough sad talk!” Wally bumped Norman’s shoulder again. “You wanted to talk secrets, right? Well, boy have I got one for you.”

Norman’s gaze sharpened with interest. “Oh really?” He asked, a smile tugging at his lips. “Do tell.”

Wally grinned back. “Alright, so, you know how Mary’s been fighting with Albert over him allegedly seeing Doris? Well, you’re never gonna guess who I saw in the conference room last week…”

Chapter Text

All his life, Henry Stein had been told to take the high road and be the bigger man. He’d done his best to follow that advice, to try and talk through disputes, to be patient and understanding, and to try not to raise his voice in anger.

And Joey had taken advantage of that.

He might not have been the real Henry Stein, but he had enough of his memories to remember that much. Joey had placed so many responsibilities and expectations on Henry’s shoulders that it had crushed Henry. Henry had left the studio for his own health and happiness and Joey had had the gall to take that as a betrayal. After everything he’d done to Henry, he had the nerve to take Henry putting himself first as a betrayal.

And if that wasn’t enough, Joey had gone on to create his petty little revenge pocket dimension after nearly 30 years of stewing on his grudge, sending his copy of Henry through loop after loop of torment to exact his vengeance.

In the beginning, Henry had been angry. He’d done everything he could to rebel against Joey’s story, to try and find a way out. But no matter what he’d done… He hadn’t been able to change anything. No matter how hard he fought, no matter how many times he tried to derail the story, it always ended the same way. After a certain point, he’d just become numb. He’d stopped talking unless the script prompted him to, just going through the motions like a windup toy.

That was his life for… he didn’t even know how long. Going through the cycle over and over and over again, dancing on Joey’s puppet strings.

Until, one day, it stopped.

Henry found himself back at the beginning of the loop but something felt… different. It didn’t feel like the script was there anymore, pushing him along. Tentatively, to test his hypothesis, Henry remained by the door, waiting to see if he was forced forward. And, miraculously, nothing happened. No one forced him back on script, nothing took control of his body to force him back on track. There was… nothing. Henry almost couldn’t believe it. Were they finally free? Had Joey finally let them go?

Of course, this wasn’t the case, as he would later find out, but for a time it had truly seemed like they were free from the cycle. Even the Ink Demon seemed baffled by this sudden change, reducing his usual attacks as he took in his newfound freedom.

Then Wilson had arrived, and their torment began anew.

Henry had no idea who Wilson was or what he wanted, but he sure seemed to hate Joey Drew. While that was something Henry thought the two of them might be able to agree on, it seemed Wilson also hated every inky creature that resided in the studio as well. He rounded up Lost Ones and experimented upon them. He sent his strange Keepers to wipe out all who showed loyalty to the Ink Demon.

And Henry had found himself right back where he started, a prisoner of a man who needed some serious therapy. At least when he’d been Joey’s prisoner, he’d been to move around and do things. Now he was stuck in a cell with nothing to do but draw and write. And day by day, Henry’s anger began to build. The longer he spent in that barren cube, the angrier he became. He was sick of being treated like a thing, sick of being kept as a prisoner, sick of just laying down and taking the abuse because he couldn’t fight back. But once again, he couldn’t do anything about his captivity.

Until a strange little Bendy came stumbling into the holding cell area, terrified and clearly injured. For a moment, Henry had been confused by the appearance of such a perfect Bendy. Not even Joey had been able to create such a thing. How had Wilson done it? Then his eyes had met the little Bendy’s, and he’d realized just who this was.

The Ink Demon stared back at him, small and scared and desperate and hurt.

Despite all the times the Ink Demon had killed and hurt him, Henry had never viewed the Demon as his enemy. From his perspective, the Demon had been just as much of a victim as he was, forced into a role that he didn’t want by a man who had never treated him with anything other than cruelty. The Ink Demon had deserved better, at least in Henry’s opinion.

And now someone else had hurt the Ink Demon even more.

Henry’s rage, already at a record high, hit its boiling point. He slammed his hand against the glass of the cell, a spiderweb of cracks flaring out from the impact site. The Ink Demon flinched back.

Henry winced, forcing himself to soften his expression and voice. “Don’t worry,” he said gently. “I’m not mad at you, bud.”

The Ink Demon stared at him, clearly still a bit wary.

“I’m mad at Wilson,” Henry continued, trying very hard not to let too much of his anger leak out. “You’re mad at him too, right?”

Fear flared in the Ink Demon’s eyes and he glanced back the way he’d come, his whole body beginning to shake.

“I’m not going to let him hurt you,” Henry said. “Not again. I’m going to keep you safe.”

The Ink Demon looked back at him, gesturing to the glass of the cell as if to ask, “How?”

Henry smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Just give me a second.”

Then he let that smile drop and punched the glass again, channeling every bit of his rage and frustration into the blow. The spiderweb cracks spread out more and he could hear the glass creaking. It seemed weakened. So, he picked up his stool and threw it at the window.

The glass shattered outward, causing the Ink Demon to jump back as glass littered the floor. The impact had left a hole that seemed just large enough for Henry to crawl through, although judging from the jagged shards that lined it, it wasn’t going to be fun.

Henry let out a long sigh. “Alright, here we go.”

The Ink Demon, seemingly realizing they were really doing this, picked up the stool and smashed out a few more shards, widening the hole enough that Henry could get through without getting stabbed too much. Once he was satisfied, he put the stool back down and looked at Henry, holding a hand out to him.

Henry took it without a second thought, allowing the Ink Demon to help pull him through the hole and into the cell block.

“Alright.” Henry stood up, dusting himself off. “Let’s get out of here.”

The Ink Demon nodded. To Henry’s surprise, the Ink Demon took his hand, clinging to him like a child.

Henry softened. “Mind if I pick you up, bud?” He asked. “It might be faster if I carry you.”

The Ink Demon hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“Thanks.” Henry scooped him up into his arms, carefully cradling the Ink Demon against his chest as he proceeded out of the holding area.

Once they’d managed to make it out of Wilson’s strange factory, and gotten clear of those strange Tesla coils, the Ink Demon had returned to his usual form, and the two of them had hashed out a deal.

The Ink Demon was weaker now, his power diminished by whatever Wilson and the Keepers had done to him. As near as he could tell, to function as well as he had before, he would need some sort of partner. Which was where Henry came in. Henry might not have had the same sort of power others in the cycle possessed, but his ink held certain properties that could prove beneficial in keeping the Ink Demon stable.

The Ink Demon had seemed unsure as to whether or not Henry would accept his proposition, especially after everything he’d done to him, but Henry had accepted the deal.

“I’m tired of being nice,” he’d said. “I want to make that bastard pay.”

“Then pay he shall,” the Ink Demon had replied with a satisfied purr. “We shall balance the scales by our hands.”

And for the first time in a long time, Henry felt… excited. Finally, he was taking back some power.

Finally… Finally, he was going to get even.

Chapter Text

When Thomas Connor had been young, he’d wanted to be a hero. After all, what little boy wouldn’t want to be a hero?

As he got older, although life threw hardship after hardship at him, he remained committed to his desire to be the sort of person he’d always read about in stories. Someone strong and courageous. Someone who always did the right thing. Someone who looked out for the weak. However, he found he had relatively few opportunities to do the good he wanted to do. It was hard enough for him just to keep his own head above water in a world that wanted him to fail.

Then news of the US joining the Second Great War spread, and Tom saw his opportunity. He immediately signed up for the army, sure that this was his opportunity. Finally, he was going to be a hero. Finally, he was going to help the people who needed it.

But the war didn’t turn out to be anything like he’d expected.

Yes, he was helping people, exactly like he thought he would be, but not in the way he’d expected. He wasn’t on the front lines, for starters. A part of him had been bothered by this, at least at first. He’d wanted to take an active role in the fight. He wanted to help people. However, he had no interest in trying to butt heads with his superiors over this issue. So, he’d contented himself with his machines.

Until the fateful day he was sent out on a mission with his platoon. Their radio operator had gotten injured, and they’d figured Tom would be a good enough replacement for the moment. It was supposed to be a routine mission to check a radio outpost, hence why they needed a radio operator in the first place. But it had been a trap. Nazis had been waiting for them. The squad had all gotten out alive, but… that had been the first time Tom had had to kill someone.

No one had ever prepared him for what that would feel like.

He would remember that feeling for the rest of his life.

The army had lauded him as a hero for his bravery in the situation. He’d kept his squadmates safe and made sure casualties were kept to a minimum. They’d even managed to take a few of the enemy soldiers as prisoners. It had been a successful mission, despite the ambush. But Tom couldn’t get the sight of those dead men out of his head. No matter how many times his squadmates told him he was a hero and he’d saved their hides, he just kept remembering those dead men’s faces.

It was a relief when the war ended. Even when he’d just been fixing machines, he’d lived in a constant state of vigilance, always bracing for an attack of some kind. It wasn’t all that different than his normal life, honestly. And yet, it had somehow been so much worse.

After the war… Admittedly, he’d become a bit jaded. He’d seen what trying to be a hero could get you. All those bright-eyed young men he’d seen be sent home in body bags because they’d wanted to be heroes… It certainly dampened his desire to be the hero he’d dreamed of when he’d been a child. Still, he tried to do good where he could. He could still do good in small ways. He could still be a hero to some.

And then he’d started the job at Joey Drew Studios.

When he’d stepped through that door for the first time, he’d had no idea just how deep into depravity this job would sink him. To him, it had just been another routine job. At least until he’d met Joey Drew.

From the moment he’d met Joey, he’d known the job was going to be a nightmare. Joey Drew was the sort of man who drove Tom up the wall, talking circles around everyone and never truly saying what they meant. Getting straight answers out of the man was like pulling teeth. He talked in abstracts, big ideas. Tom didn’t need abstracts. He needed a clear idea of what Joey wanted this machine to do.

He almost walked out of the office when Joey finally told him that he wanted the machine to make living cartoons. He was sure that eventually he’d be sent back to GENT with an angry review from Joey when Tom failed to deliver the miracles that Joey wanted.

That wasn’t what happened.

Even years later, Tom still wasn’t sure how things took the turn that they did. One moment, he’d just been putting in pipes and making a machine to generate figures of ink. The next… he was overseeing gruesome experiments and caring for a twisted version of the studio’s flagship character.

He watched Joey sacrifice Susie Campbell and turn her into… whatever she became. He helped Joey kill Jack Fain and Norman Polk. He watched employee after employee be sacrificed to the machine he’d built. Watched as they screamed and begged for help. Their blood was on his hands. Sometimes literally. If it hadn’t been for him, those people would have still been alive.

He could have left.

Why hadn’t he left?

He asked himself that question over and over as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom at night. Why hadn’t he just left? Allison always told him that he’d just been doing his job. Tom had seen the damage that men “just doing their job” could do. It wasn’t an excuse he wanted to use.

He wrote down all their names in a notebook. Every victim of the ink machine. Every victim of Joey’s experiments. He wrote them all down so he’d remember. So he wouldn’t forget who was dead because of him. Every so often he would take it out and read through the names. He always stopped on Buddy Lewek’s name. He saw all their faces in his dreams. But he saw Buddy’s the most. The boy had been so young…

Tom would remember what he’d done for the rest of his life. And he regretted every moment of it.

Chapter Text

Audrey Klein was a queer child. Everyone agreed.

Although, admittedly, no one could quite explain why they thought she was so queer. By all accounts, she looked like any other child, and especially like her father when he’d been young. She played with other children, she did well in school, and she enjoyed reading, drawing, and pestering her older cousins and adults with questions about the world. She was a bright young girl who was just as sharp and no-nonsense as her Aunt Esther.

But there were some strange things about Audrey as well. She’d never broken a bone. No matter how many times she’d fallen out of a tree or off playground equipment, she’d never broken a single bone. Some passed it off as her just being lucky, while others swore they saw her limbs… bend instead of break. Like rubber. And if anyone ever saw Audrey bleed, which wasn’t often, they swore her blood looked black. It didn’t smell like blood either. It smelled like… ink.

And then there were the drawings.

From the time she’d been very little, Audrey had only seemed interested in drawing one thing. Bendy the Dancing Demon. Alice Angel and Boris the Wolf had featured sometimes, Boris more than Alice, but Bendy was usually the main focus. And… sometimes… she drew a man with a ponytail in a grey vest and a red bowtie. Usually, she drew him frowning, attached to Bendy with what looked like a chain. Always, he was drawn in a dark space.

When asked who the man was, she would reply, “That’s my daddy. He’s with my brother right now. But they’re not getting along.”

When pressed by adults to explain what she meant by this, she refused to offer any additional information. That had been a common theme when she’d been young. She’d often spoken of her father who was with her brother. She said they were somewhere secret, along with a lot of other people. She said her daddy did something bad and now everyone was stuck. Esther had always claimed the stories were just the stories of an imaginative child, but it was hard to miss the concerned look in her eyes whenever Audrey started telling the stories.

As Audrey had gotten older, she’d stopped talking about her father and brother and ceased drawing them. But she always came back to drawing Bendy. No one was surprised when she went to work for Archgate after they acquired the rights to Bendy.

Audrey was a queer girl. Everyone agreed.

But no one had any idea just how strange she truly was.

Chapter Text

“Henry Stein… Or… should I say the paltry copy of him?”

Henry didn’t turn around. He didn’t know what the purpose of Wilson’s visit was, but whatever it might be he wasn’t interested in indulging the pageantry.

“What, nothing to say?” Wilson’s voice drew closer.

“Not to you,” Henry replied coolly.

“Ah, so you can speak.” Condescension dripped from Wilson’s voice. “And here I thought Drew had made you mute. It would certainly suit his sensibilities to rob his tool of vengeance of the ability to speak against him.”

Henry let out a long sigh. If he didn’t nip this in the bud, the monologuing would probably just continue. And he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with more of that right now. So, he turned around on his stool to face Wilson.

“Let’s just cut to the chase here,” he said. “What do you want?”

“Must I want something?” Wilson asked, feigning innocence.

Henry stared incredulously at him. “If you don’t want anything, you can leave. I’m not in the mood for this.”

“In the mood for what?” Wilson asked.

“This.” Henry gestured at Wilson. “The gloating, the pageantry, lording my captivity over me. I get it, you think you’re very clever and you want me to be in awe of your intellectual prowess and the power you have over me.” He made a derisively grand, sweeping gesture around the room before letting his arms drop back to his sides. “But this isn’t my first rodeo and I’m not interested in sitting around while you grandstand. I couldn’t tell Joey I was tired of his shit, but I can sure as Hell tell you.”

Wilson’s brow furrowed, clearly annoyed by Henry’s refusal to indulge him. “You’re awfully bold for a rat in a cage,” he said. He sounded like a petulant child, something that almost made Henry laugh.

“I don’t know if I’d call it boldness.” Henry shrugged. “More like being too old to deal with this nonsense.”

“I could kill you, you know,” Wilson said, moving closer to the glass of Henry’s cell. “I could reduce you to nothing more than a puddle of ink. I could erase you from this world.”

“Then do it.” Henry maintained eye contact.

Wilson blinked, looking momentarily thrown for a loop. “What?”

“I said, do it,” Henry repeated. “Nothing else has been able to put me out of my misery, you might as well give it a try. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

For a moment, anger overtook the surprise on Wilson’s face, although he quickly schooled his expression into one of stoic calm. “How truly pathetic you are,” he said. “Do you wish for death that much?”

“Is it really pathetic to want to rest when you’ve spent decades being killed and mutilated in the most horrible ways by things that used to be your friends?” Henry asked with a tight smile. “You said it yourself. I’m not Henry Stein. I was made by Joey solely for him to vent his frustrations onto. I think I’m allowed to want an out.”

“So you admit it?” A triumphant, smug smile tugged at Wilson’s lips.

“I’m admitting nothing.” Henry slid off his stool to approach the glass, his own smile vanishing. “No matter what you think, I’m not the pathetic one here.” He leaned close to the glass, his gaze boring into Wilson. “You are.”

Wilson’s angry snarl returned. “What?”

“Does it make you feel powerful torturing the creatures here?” Henry asked, continuing to hold eye contact with Wilson. “Does it make you feel strong and important? And do you really think that any of this makes you better than Joey?”

“I am better than Drew!” Wilson snapped, slamming a fist into the glass. “His mind was small! He had no idea what this machine could do! I will use it to its full potential! I will prove my greatness!”

“You will fall.” Henry pronounced this like a prophecy, his eyes almost seeming to glow as he stared Wilson down. “No one here could get to Joey when he was controlling the Loop.” He paused, leaning closer to the glass again. “But we can absolutely get to you.”

He watched as the color seemed to drain out of Wilson’s face.

“You’re not a god, Wilson,” Henrey continued, his voice gaining an unearthly quality as he spoke. “You’re just a man. And men can be killed.”

Wilson left without another word, allowing Henry to return to his sketching. Eventually, Wilson’s crimes were going to catch up to him. He was turning the whole studio against him. And sooner or later… someone would come for him.

Henry just needed to wait to see who it would be.

Chapter Text

The Ink Demon had never been read fairytales when he’d been young. He’d never heard a story end with “and they all lived happily ever after”. And even if he had… would he have seen himself in the plucky protagonists triumphing against the forces of evil? Or would he have seen himself in the shadowy monsters that had to be defeated for the end to truly be happy?

A part of the Ink Demon had always assumed that whatever his end would be, if it ever actually arrived, it would not be a happy one. The monster didn’t deserve a happily ever after.

And yet, here he was, forging a new life with a sister he never thought he would have and friends he had once tormented. The situation was still less than ideal but… they were all slowly healing. No longer was he treated as the monster in the story. Many were still wary of him due to their past experiences, which he didn’t blame them for, but they no longer ran at his approach.

He was included in planned activities, extended invitations to spend time with others, and generally treated as a member of the growing community inside the inky pocket dimension. It felt… strange. After spending so long being feared and hated, he wasn’t used to people genuinely wanting to be around him. For as strange as it was, though… It did feel good. For the first time in his life, he was wanted. He was liked.

“Did you hear the story Heidi’s been spreading around?” Audrey remarked to him one day as they were hanging out in the cafeteria.

Instinctively, the Ink Demon tensed. “I don’t believe I have.”

“It’s really sweet,” Audrey said, unable to hide her smile. “She made up a fairytale about you.”

The Ink Demon frowned, tilting his head to the side. “A fairytale?” He repeated.

“Yeah.” Audrey’s smile widened. “It’s about a scary monster who is eventually revealed to just be scary and ends up finding people who love him as he is.”

The Ink Demon rolled his eyes, or did his best to. “A predictably saccharine retelling of my circumstances.”

“I thought it was cute!” Audrey protested. “I might even want to make it into a children’s book!”

“...If you do that, do not let it resemble me in any way,” the Ink Demon said flatly. He refused to let anyone outside of the studio be privy to his vulnerabilities. It pained him that the people in the studio were even aware of them in the first place.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Audrey assured him, gently reaching over to nudge his shoulder. “But I would love to have you work on the book with me.”

The Ink Demon’s frown deepened. “Why me? Surely Henry would be a better candidate.”

“For the art, yes,” Audrey conceded. “But… it’s your story. I want to tell it in a way you’re comfortable with.” She smiled softly, patting the Ink Demon’s shoulder.

The Ink Demon hesitated, his gaze flicking away from her. “I… would not be opposed to that,” he said after a moment of pause.

Audrey visibly brightened. “I’m looking forward to working on it with you!”

The Ink Demon allowed himself a smile of his own. “…I am as well.”

A story of his own…

One with a happy ending…

Maybe dreams did come true.