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total-drama-brainrot · 2 months

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Total Drama Psycho Noah AU, after the 'London Adventure' and the truth being revealed, Chris then decides to make this a reward challenge... The reward is that EVERYONE gets to be in First Class, with NOAH... Chris and Noah are curious to see, who will be brave enough to actually enter First Class, after learning about Noah's insanity... How would Courtney + Gwen + Duncan reacts to seeing the video of Noah's insane side showing? 😈 Would Alejandro and Noah still be friends? 😈

Listen, as much as this idea is so fucking funny to me, I really don't think it'd work from a storytelling perspective.

Though (not to push any agendas here, but-) if Chris were to hypothetically have the remaining contestants go against Noah in an enclosed space, in a sort of predator-vs-prey scenario, it'd probably play out something like The Beast chapter in Slay The Princess... without the "eating them alive" aspect, of course.

(Heavy Content Warning for that link, by the way. There's a lot of violence/gore/body horror, among other stuff, by virtue of it being a horror game.)

Maybe he'd lock everyone in the First Class cabin and turn off all of the room's electronics, so the only source of light in the cabin would be the wavering moonlight from whatever tiny windows are dotted around. Noah would use the cover of darkness to his advantage and toy with his competitors in a similar vein to how the Ripper had in their challenge that day, darting silently through the shadows to 'capture' his castmates, picking them off one by one.

It'd be a fun game of cat-and-mouse for Noah. For the others? It'd be a living nightmare. They wouldn't have the luxury of knowing that Noah wouldn't really hurt them, and the bloodlust they'd seen on that screen would be terrifying to watch but downright petrifying to experience first hand. They would be genuinely fearing for their lives, in a way that Chris hadn't been able to prompt since the early days of Island, and the host would love it.

Not that he would do that. And not that Noah would actually attack anyone either. (Without reason to, of course.)

But you are right about one thing; if this AU were to become a fully-fledged story, the London challenge would have to be a reward, just to keep Noah in the competition. Because he literally snapped Zeke's arms like chopsticks- his team would vote him out in a heartbeat just by virtue of him being so dangerous.

Which means the whole of Team Chris (plus Duncan) would be sharing a poorly-lit, structurally unsound cabin with someone they're terrified of.

...Owen notwithstanding, since Owen's a sweetheart and he knows Noah.

But the others would be immediately on guard around him. Noah, knowing there's no reason to keep up his ruse of sarcastic apathy, would probably relish in their fear- he enjoys tormenting people, after all, especially when that torment is purely psychological. So he'd carry on playing the 'unhinged, bloodthirsty sociopath' just to watch the others squirm.

He'd probably make a huge show of still having the Ripper's knife, tucked safely in the sleeve of his white undershirt, and comment that he and Duncan could be 'knife buddies' or something. If only to see how the punk's pierced face would drain of all colour at the prospect of Noah having a sharp object. (Duncan would absently rub at the puncture scars on his hand, to Noah's delight.)

But it'd eventually get boring, I imagine, so Noah would do something to reassure his teammates that he's not some ethics-devoid monster hellbent on destruction. Because having your teammates be in a state of constant paranoia around you would get annoying after a while, and it'd impact their performance in the competition (which Noah isn't really all that concerned with, but Owen is, so Noah doesn't want to do anything to jeopardise their chances of winning challenges).

So he'd drop the exaggeration of his more violent traits, and intentionally show off the unharmful aspects of himself- namely by koala-clinging to Owen and acting 'normally' like they'd done before the London challenge, and/or by approaching Tyler to ask how he was feeling after being stretched on the rack and sheepishly apologise for leaving him behind (showing empathy and remorse, to humanise himself n front of his teammates).

He's insane, not heartless.

As for Alejandro...? I have no idea. Would he even want to risk approaching Noah to find out if their shared comradery was all a ruse? Would whatever tentative trust he had in Noah be completely shattered by the reveal? Or would he be so engulfed by his need to win the competition that he only views this new development as a boon, since now Noah can be more of a physical asset for their team?

It'd probably be a mix of all of these. Alejandro would be left off-footed by the reveal of p!Noah's 'true self' (however much of his 'true self' he's willing to show to others) but I imagine he'd be quick to ally himself with the guy who can break bones like they're chalk and deceive a whole cast of people for two and a half seasons, regardless of any personal misgivings.

#anyway i think it's funnier to leave gwen and courtney in the dark for a while. team amazon tries explaining it to them but--#they refuse to hear it. really? noah? the guy who was almost voted out third in island because he wouldn't throw a dodgeball? that guy?#and noah is overjoyed that there's still people who'll underestimate him on the jet. even moreso because now he has a captive audience for-#when he intentionally carries on the ruse with gwen and courtney. the others watch it happen like witnesss of a trainwreck.#p!noah's a chaos gremlin who thrives on sewing discourse and brewing malcontent #BUT he's not a mindless violence machine. he's just a little silly.#also could you imagine chris setting up a whole ass challenge where he lets noah run wild? it's a shame the horror challenge for the wt--#already happened because p!noah would make SUCH a good 'killer'.#total drama #td noah #td owen #td alejandro #td duncan #team chris is really really really really hot #chris mclean #psycho!noah au #silly ideas #others' ideas #replies #cw violence

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poorlittleyaoyao · 20 days

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Okay, I have officially gotten to the post-timeskip era of the show in my rewatch, so time for some overarching thoughts!

Basically, I owe my past self an apology, because a lot of things I'd assumed I missed the first time around due to being overwhelmed with information/ relying on Netflix's iffy subs/ not paying close attention... are simply not present in CQL canon and/or aren't explained.

Sunshot, for example. I came away from the show thinking Sunshot had only lasted for a few months, and up till now had felt very silly because it's a massive multi-year war, right? NOT IN THE SHOW IT ISN'T. Sunshot begins in earnest in response to Lotus Pier's destruction; it is introduced alongside the core transfer, which occurs 1-2 weeks after Lotus Pier's destruction. When WWX returns from the Burial Mounts three months + 1 week later, he hangs out with everyone in the Unclean Realm for around a month before they make a final push against Nightless City. No other military action is shown during this time. Based on all the timestamps given, the active combat portion of this war took place over a period of less than 6 months.

(the following is said with the full understanding that I might sound like an insufferable CinemaSins video)

The consolidation of the Massacre at Nightless City and the First Siege of the Burial Mounds to one terrible, horrible, no-good very bad couple of days also diminishes it. All the Wen remnants--every single one of them!! nobody is left there when WWX wakes up!--just decide to let themselves be executed on the off-chance that WWX will be left alone with his sought-after cursed object and get to happily rejoin society after accidentally killing his brother-in-law. Why on earth would they all agree to that, especially without consulting WWX first? WQ and WN alone, sure, but ALL of them? Even A-Yuan's caregivers? WQ herself says that the jianghu gentry already decided WWX is guilty no matter what proof WWX offers! How will this solve anything!

(On the topic of the Burial Mounds: I assume that the reason the Burial Mounds are inhabitable and people are freely able to come and go without getting obliterated by ghosts is that WWX tamed the place during his time there earlier. Otherwise, it isn't "WWX spent 3 months cultivating resentment to survive until he was powerful enough to escape thanks to his hard-fought refinement of the Yin Tiger Tally" and more "WWX spent 3 months doing evil ghost science in a desolate yet fully habitable haunted forest just because.")

I also didn't get what the big deal was about WWX, because he... didn't really do anything? And again, I figured I must've just missed something, but no! He does atrocities at Yiling as he pursues Wen Chao and then he just sits there dodging concerned questions from loved ones and punching JZX over soup until the last minutes of the final battle, during which he summons some evil clouds that make people fall down. That's it. And then everyone, himself included, acts like he's the strongest and scariest dude ever. Part of the problem is that they only have like 50 extras in any of the battle scenes so there's no sense of scale, but even if there WERE hordes of CGI dudes... that is one battle, one time. Declaring himself an instrumental part of Sunshot is an overstatement, and it also raises the question of why he didn't use Chenqing or the Yin Tiger Tally sooner. He does nothing but use Chenqing as a baton until things get truly dire. I'd be suspicious of him too, if I'm honest!

And Wen Ning! Wen Ning, the oh-so-scary Ghost General, kills like a dozen guys one time and people think he's a terrifying death machine. This could have been chalked up to overblown rumors--oh, WN is just a little guy! he is just sitting there with his turnips! it's so messed up that people think WWX's trusty soft-spoken friend is a mindless tool for violence! UNTIL QIONGQI PASS 2.0, where WWX uses him as PRECISELY THAT. Why is WN coming with him to Jinlintai anyway, if not as a weapon? He certainly wasn't invited as a guest! Does he really think JGS is going to let the not-zombie who killed his employees come to his grandson's party when JC isn't even willing to let WN attend the surprise soup picnic?

Speaking of Qiongqi Pass 2.0, I do not understand why, if the whole thing was a nefarious scheme orchestrated by JGY to kill his brother and cause turmoil, WWX and WN were allowed to return to the Burial Mounds. SMS has the ability to control WN, and WWX can't fly on a sword. Just use WN to subdue WWX, capture them both, take the Yin Tiger Tally from WWX, and gain your father's esteem for obtaining the cursed object he wants and bringing his favorite son's murderers to justice! Come ON, JGY! If you're going to be extra evil, at least be clever about it! You aren't even at your breaking point yet!

I think the adaptation changes--the Yin Iron stuff, the not-zombies, XY working with WRH, the fairy statue backstory with WN's soul being easily detachable--actually do work in the front half of the show, where it's not following the text as closely. These things go together decently on their own! But from Sunshot onward, the new lore and changed characterizations that can't be fully discarded clashes with novel canon plot points that are too major to skip. It's a weird reversal of what happened with the first FMA anime, where the first half more or less follows the manga with some core changes baked in, and the second half deviates based off those changes since it outpaced the manga and didn't want to spoil it, resulting in two high-quality but fully distinct canons. Here, with the story unfolding chronologically, we have a first half that deviates with a lot of new content, and a second half that has a text to follow, resulting in ????

I'm still having fun, but I knowwww thinking about literally anything is gonna be such a mess from here on out. It's a testament to how much I like the actors' work and the expanded time with the supporting characters (and how much I do NOT vibe with Book Wangxian lol) that this is still my preferred canon.

#I would love to take the same approach that I did for WOH and go 'no plot concerns just vibes :)'#unfortunately I am picky and if I'm writing something I Need Things To Make Sense #and I want to KNOW when I'm deviating from something in the canon of choice #masala necromancy wizard hour

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rainbowstrashpile · 4 years

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Hypocrisy of Cathedrals pt. 1

I posted a rough preview of this but here is the finished first chapter. Nothing actually sexual yet, so if you wanna just read this as a creepy oneshot feel free.

Warnings: emotional manipulation, coercion, ableism, cruelty, future dubcon, and just Prime being a dick to the entire universe.

Word count: 3,094

"Prime has had few hobbies that held his interest over the centuries, but there is one that always brings him pleasure: breaking things down. Opening them up. Seeing how they work. To lay something bare and dissect it, to study all of its parts with the greatest of scrutiny while it thrashed and squirmed will always be amusing. This new planet may hold delights untold, and the anticipation only makes it that much sweeter. He will wait, just a bit, before he sinks the first claw into it, virgin territory yielding and unfolding before his might.

Yes, he will have Etheria, just as he has had everything else in the universe. But before the main course, there must be h’orderves. And he has the most interesting of treats awaiting him. Something with which to bide his time. His defective brother, so desperate to return to his embrace, will be fun to take apart as well."

Confession

The universe is governed by very little. For the most part, it is matter gravitating towards matter. Particles coalescing. Becoming. Morphing and igniting and compounding into stars and planets, nebulae and meteors, burning screaming spinning rupturing crashing uncontrolled. Chaotic. Messy.

Truly, this cacophony is something to be despised as the things it gives rise to are horrendous. Planets laid to waste by dying stars, their surfaces now an irradiated husk. Solar systems devoured by a star's gravity, their mass so great they pull everything around them down into their flames. Planets so hot that they rain glass; billions of tiny knives ripping through the atmosphere. Hostile, horrible, useless.

But the worst of all is life. Seething, crawling, oozing masses all loudly clambering for more more more , their hunger unending. For eons, he has watched what other life forms are capable of, and he has found them lacking.

Prime has come to live by a rigid philosophy. Curated over the millennia and refined down to a simple fact: to want is a crime. A cardinal sin. Wanting leads to greed; to covetous desire, then to war. Endless, senseless violence where there is no true winner. The only prizes gained were loss and suffering. It was exhausting, really, that most beings were too unevolved to grasp this, too simple in their mindset to realize they themselves were the root of their problems. Wasn’t it better then, that the universe be governed by order rather than chaos? Guided by a deft, firm hand as opposed to the mindless greed of the inhabitants? Too wanton and wasteful for their own good, consuming everything around them. Instead, Prime would provide all that was needed. Prime would bring peace and enlightenment to the unwashed masses. In turn the only thing they should desire was his approval, his love.

Just like his little brothers. Tailor made little life forms, never fussing or struggling against his doctrine; always reverent and obedient. All of them together working in perfect unison. Their small thoughts a happy, thrumming buzz in the back of his mind at all times. How glad they were, to have such great purpose. How thankful they were, to be allowed to bask in his light. What could be better than serving the one who had created order in the universe at last?

Attending to the one who had brought enlightenment and civilization to countless lives, despite the primitives kicking and screaming the whole way. His work is exhausting, and at times even frustrating, but by now he has it down to a science. There's a rhythm to the teaching, an order. A delicate dance of subjugation and indoctrination. They always resist at first, too set in their flawed ways. Generally, they must be crushed completely, their egos broken down to nothing with their kingdoms in flames, in order to finally accept peace and light. But Prime and his brothers are infinite, unyielding. A flawlessly composed missionary melody executed with precision. But then, something discordant happened; a sour note in his otherwise perfect meter. A defect. A mistake. And like all mistakes, he had been cast out.

Prime, in his infinite wisdom and kindness, had tried to send him out with honor. To die on the battlefield with glory in the name of his creator. Instead this defect kneels before him again, a testament of undying loyalty, craven to serve. He has returned from parts unknown, dragging with him not only two other lifeforms, but an entire planet of backward creatures. And what a mess he’d made of this new conquest. A terrible impression of Prime’s divine Horde.

Poor little thing, trying to lead an army like that. His brothers are simply not meant to lead. They are created only to serve. It’s no surprise that he had done such a terrible job; that he had been manipulated and felled so easily by his subordinates. Lucky for him, Prime is merciful. He is willing to take him back into the fold despite his failings; willing to correct his lowly, animalistic behavior. It seems that, hidden from the light of Prime, even his brothers will become corrupt. For this one wanted more than to be a good boy. As if wanting something wasn’t bad enough on its own. This one thought he could be favored. Held on high and beloved above all of his brothers. How selfish, how greedy of him to want more, especially when Prime loves all of his brothers equally. He would have to be reconditioned for that, certainly.

This little brother had to be shown that wanting will only lead to pain. Especially when he had wanted something other than the peace and order Prime had so graciously brought to the universe.

What a strange thing he wanted indeed. Purple hair. Red eyes. Gentle gloved hands. Diminutive. Soft. Despite that, she had been a blur of motion, a wellspring of knowledge and innovation; exuberant and enthusiastic. Her heart so open Little Brother had fallen head first into it.

He had wanted to stay with her. To build a nest for them to tinker away in; two defects hidden from the cleansing light of Prime.

It was only when she was gone did he resume his journey home. But still, his labor should be rewarded. And not just that of the portal, but his missionary work as well. Despite his flaws, this brother had been kind and generous in trying to bring these heathens to Prime's light. To fight for so long in order to return to his side. And in such a sickly state too. Poor defect. His body would collapse, as hard as he may try to be like the others. He would only slow them down, gumming up the works of the machine they worked so hard to maintain. He could be propped up with chemicals, reinforced with outside structures, but try as he might eventually he would fail again.

And yet, it seemed a waste to be rid of him. His time away had done things to him. How interesting this one had become. Deviant, in a way; corrupted by the chaos and want of an uncivilized world. How fascinating it would be to crack his mind open, to lay him bare entirely; to witness the seething mass of imperfection he had become. To see those sins burn away by Prime’s light.

Once his new guests had been settled he would deal with his wayward brother himself.

Prime’s steps echoed in the cold hallways of the Velvet Glove, sterling heels clicking on chrome floors, his stride metronome perfect. He passes the cell holding the little queen, knowing she could hear him but could not see him, and Prime revels in the fear she must feel. Until this moment her universe was a void, an empty dimension with only her world. And now she is here among the stars, so very near their ruler. And she is powerless. Stranded and without her magics. Though he could see no evidence they had served her particularly well thus far.

She could not even stop the defect and his cobbled together army, silly ploy that it had been. If she was frightened of his brother, how fun it would be, to watch her tremble before Prime himself. Though in time, she will come to count herself lucky. He would have snapped her fragile neck had the feline not informed him of her importance. Apparently she’s a piece of a whole, one of a set, and Prime considers himself a bit of a collector.

Mostly though, it is the planet she rules that interests him. A weapon of that caliber would be useful. At the very least, it will be interesting to study. Prime has had few hobbies that were able to hold his interest over the centuries, but there is one that always brings him pleasure: breaking things down. Opening them up. Seeing how they work. To lay something bare and dissect it, to study all of its parts with the greatest of scrutiny and watch it thrash and squirm will always be amusing. This new planet may hold delights untold, and the anticipation only makes it that much sweeter. He will wait, just a bit, before he sinks the first claw into it, virgin territory yielding and unfolding before his might.

Prime comes to a stop before another force field, identical to every other in his ship. He taps the middle, his diamond sigil appearing briefly before the wall fades away. The interior of the chamber is unadorned and unfurnished, as its occupant is unworthy of such luxuries. Little Brother looks reasonably penitent, awash in the uranium green and scalpel silver light of the ship. He’s waiting on his knees, hands gripping at the bare flesh of his thighs uselessly; the lines of his body tense, anxious .

“Welcome home, Little Brother,” Prime drawls, voice bathwater warm as he gazes curiously down at his wayward sibling. There is black smudged thickly around his eyes, and his mouth bears a faint trace of it as well. Even his hair, once pristine white, is now an indigo blue. “I see you’ve deviated from my image,” he says, raising his brow as he looks him over. Cosmetic alteration had never once been allowed in his Horde, and to see one of his brothers fall prey to it irritates him. Prime had made them in his image. Prime selected how they were supposed to look. For this brother to change his appearance was to deny Prime’s sovereignty over him. To deny Prime’s control meant that he had chosen chaos over order. Darkness over light. But he was not yet beyond salvation.

Fear blooms on his brother’s face, and Prime watches, vaguely amused, as the defect stutters out an excuse. “My Lord, it was nothing but a war tactic, I assure you! The natives found this color scheme to be intimidating.”

“Is that so?” Prime asks, secondary eyes rolling around their sockets to focus on his brother. “Was the visage I gave you not intimidating enough?”

Little Brother squirms in his place, eyes darting around the room as he scrambles for an answer. “They found the white and green to be soothing. Peaceful.”

Prime sees this as the excuse that it is, and allows it to amuse him. He has tangled this brother in his own words, and to watch him struggle in the web brings him pleasure. “You seem to misunderstand our goal on a fundamental level then, Little Brother. Did you forget that we are indeed bringing peace to the universe?”

The defect looks down at the polished floor, uselessly clenching the fabric of his dress. “Forgive me, Lord Prime. I was wrong to alter my appearance. Their planet was already mired in unrest, and I did not think they were capable of accepting peace without force or fear.”

“Dear little brother,” Prime says, abandoning the ire and derision in his tone to slip fondness in its place, “I did not create you to think. I designed you and your brothers to obey. It is not surprising that you were so lost without my guiding hand. I suppose it is to be expected that you made so many wrong decisions. It must have been difficult for you, to be all on your own like that. Away from your brothers. Away from me. ”

Little brother sits up straight now, nodding in agreement. “I was lost without your light to guide me! I suffered every second I was not at your side!”

“Do you believe that you have suffered enough, Little Brother? Enough to deserve forgiveness?”

The defect before him says nothing, and takes to looking at the floor again. There is no right or wrong answer to this question, as it is a fact this brother has suffered quite a bit already. Prime is already willing to take him back into his flock. But he is curious what he will say. He has given the question enough weight that this brother will believe his existence hinges upon the answer.

Finally, he opens his black lined mouth, and hesitantly, he says, “It is not my place to make that decision, my Lord.” It’s a safe answer, because it is not truly an answer, but what the defect thinks he wants to hear. Prime could push him past breaking here. Demand a yes or no answer, and pick apart the flaws in each one. But he has other questions to ask. Other wheels he wants to break him on.

Prime smiles, pleased. “Do you wish for absolution, Little Brother?”

“Yes, Lord Prime.” And he says it in a whisper. Like if he dares speak too loudly everything around him might break, and he will be denied. But Prime is merciful. And he has already made his decision.

“Then unburden yourself of your failures. Starting with that terrible armor,” he purrs out, a cruel promise hidden in the rich notes of his voice. Little Brother’s newly green eyes widen almost imperceptibly and Prime watches as his hands begin to tremble; gnat’s wing flutter under the burning sun of his gaze.

“Why do you hesitate, Little Brother?” And his tone is almost teasing, as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t see the whole sordid tale played to the bitter end all walled off safe and sound in his mind

The poor thing looks away, pain and shame gouging into his expression. And, in a rare gesture, Prime crouches down to his level, the bend of his body is fluid, graceful; an ironic genuflection. One lone hand, strong and steady, reaches out to grasp his brother’s chin.

Gently, insistently, he turns the defect’s head back, the cold metal claw adorning his index finger digging into tender flesh. “Do not look away from me,” he coos, the ghost of his breath warm and alive against his brother's face. “Now, why do you hesitate to remove that junk? Are you disobeying my order?”

“Never!” he gasps out, face still cradled in Prime’s hand.

“Then why are you still wearing it?” Prime’s tone is flat, playing at unamused.

“I-I simply do not wish to inflict my defect on you, my Lord. It is unsightly. Not worthy of your eyes.”

“Is that why? I had perhaps thought it had sentimental value,” he says, dragging his finger down his brother's face. Prime’s index claw carefully traces over the ridge of his cheek, the dip of chin. The sharp tip teasing delicate flesh as it runs down his throat, skating over his windpipe in its descent to the empty diamond shaped slot in his armor. The metal of his claw taps against it twice, the click deafening in the silence.

“It means nothing to me! She means nothing to me!”

Oh yes, this is what Prime has been waiting for. For his brother to lay bare his sins of his own volition. “She? Pray tell, who is she ?” he asks. His hand snakes its way back to little brother’s chin, and he holds it firmly in place as their eyes meet, Prime’s gaze unyielding.

“No one.” Little Brother whispers.

“And yet you’ve brought her up unprompted.” Prime drawls, letting his grip fall from his brother’s face.

“She...helped. Design the armor.”

“Couldn’t do it yourself then, Little Brother?” And for many moments, the defect is silent. The weight of his failures crashing down upon him as he kneels before his god. “Speak up, Little Brother.” Prime drawls, prompting his confession.

“I was...too weak, my Lord.”

“How merciful she was then, to take pity on you. Such a fine mind she must have to create something from so little. Tell me, where is she now?” He knows, of course, that this is what will cause him to crumble. He is simply curious about how the pieces will fall.

“She is dead.” And he says it like he’s being choked, barely getting the words past his lips.

“How did she die?” Prime asks casually. “Catra...sent her to die,” Little Brother whispers, forcing the truth out through a throat swollen with grief.

“Why would you allow that?”

“I didn’t!” he screams, slamming both palms down against the floor, the dull thud of flesh against metal thrumming in their ears. “She deceived me! Made me think I had been betrayed!”

“How naive, Little Brother. But, why did you believe her?” And it is a curiosity, that he had allowed the feline to stay after so many missteps. His brother must truly have a soft heart.

“I did not think that...” Little Brother speaks like the words are caught in his throat, like saying them brings him actual pain, “that she would want to...sully herself. By spending time with a defect like me.” He whispers, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes before tumbling down his face, mixing with the cosmetics to make a smeary, sludgy mess.

“Why do you weep, Little Brother?” Prime tuts, artificial sympathy oozing in his tenor.

“I-I miss her.” The defect’s voice is empty, his whisper a dried out husk of a thing; his heart bled dry from sorrow.

“Poor Little Brother.” Prime cups his face again, the wetness of tears and ruined makeup staining his hands. “This is why the universe needs my light. To make sure tragedies like this do not happen.” His thumbs stroke just above his ears, and the defect’s rheumy eyes widen. “So guileless creatures like yourself do not have to feel such pain. Do you wish for me to take the agony away?” Prime asks, cocking his head slightly. “Please! Take this from me. Cleanse me of this horror!” His wide eyes bloom tears anew, running hot and sticky over Prime’s hands. Oh yes, this brother is well on his way to absolution.

“Then you must unburden yourself of the reminders.” Prime’s eyebrows arch, and the corners of his lips quirk in the slightest of smiles. He lowers his hands from his brother’s face and caresses over the armor he still wears, auxiliary eyes roving over the metal contours. If this one truly wants to be forgiven, to be welcomed back, he must shed any desire he ever had for anything but Prime’s love.

#hordak #horde prime #primedak #rainbow writes

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

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045. This isn’t goodbye

This will be a three-parter, the warnings are there for all parts so you know what you are starting with. The bold parts are in the chapter. Don’t worry, as all my stories this will end good, but there is a bit of bad stuff happening until there will be a good ending in the third part. Just so you are save out there!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900, Hannor/Hancon | AU: Reverse AU (Warnings: android being shipped off to Cyberlife for analysis of deviancy, loss of privacy, loss of control, most think the android is dead, Grieving Character, Trauma because of past mistakes, Canon-typical violence)

[part2] [part3] [part4]

‘Remember, if someone gives you an order, follow it. They mustn’t know it!’ ‘Got it, Sir’, Gavin grinned teasingly at Richard. ‘Gonna be your little obedient robot, just as you like it.’ ‘Gavin!’ Richard wasn’t in the mood for the android’s silly jokes. This was serious. ‘Worry for your own ass out there, Nines. You know me, GV-harder-better-faster-stronger-200. We’ll give them hell!’ ‘Just… be careful, tin-can.’ ‘Will be, meatbag!’

They joined the others in position to storm the building. Their suspect was hiding inside this house with a bunch of his “co-workers”. They would put an end to one of Detroit’s largest drug gangs today, catching their leader and unravelling the whole organisation hopefully. They were waiting for the signal from Captain Allen to charge, as this officially was a SWAT operation. Richard was present as a consultant technically, but his past as a soldier made him qualified. Also, with Cyberlife’s most advanced android by his side, he would be worth a lot. Normally Richard wouldn’t worry as much about Gavin, but this time Connor and his android HK400 was in the team, too. Richard generally liked the android for helping his brother get out of that hole the loss of his son had ripped, but that didn’t change that Hank was just there to find deviant androids. And, well, Gavin was one. He had deviated long ago on a mission, when they both were after some fugitive. They had caught him, and he was driven off back to the precinct and Gavin had kissed him. Since then they hid GV’s true identity successfully. But with Hank this close… Who knew how this ended? Hopefully all would go well.

He didn’t have anymore time to think about the other android, as Captain Allen gave the signal and Richard followed his group. They were jogging through foreign rooms, short status reports of ‘room clear’ muttered into their mics, their breaths and the shuffle of feet and clothing all around them. For a surprisingly long time nothing happened. Then a SWAT officer wanted to open a door and Gavin interfered. ‘I detected multiple persons behind this door.’ Immediately everyone raised their guns and prepared themselves. Richard took a deep breath to steady him, the ghost of a hand touching him reassuringly as everyone was too busy to see the gesture. Then they pushed the door in and stormed into the room to leave the bottleneck behind them as soon as possible. Immediately gunfire was thundering through the room and everyone quickly dove for any cover they could find. It spread them out and most order was quickly lost, but they had the upper hand, surprising the gang members and taking down one after the other with mostly non-lethal shots. Unfortunately, they realised that too, quickly running backwards to leave the room. ‘Gavin! Quick, keep them from fleeing!’, came the order from Captain Allen. ‘Hank, Connor, help him!’ Gavin immediately jumped over the crate from where he had sat next to Richard. He ducked under bullets, calculating them even before they left the gun. He was already pre-constructing how to advance once in reach of their leader, as a warning covered his HUD.

[Danger! Richard]

He stopped in his tracks, reaching into Connor’s holster to retrieve a gun, then aimed and shot. His bullet hit the criminal that had aligned his gun with Richard’s head in the arm and pushed it to the side, so the bullet hit a wall and not his human’s brain. The gang member next to the one he shot, had seen his action and returned it by shooting Gavin in the abdomen, just over his regulator. Gavin fell, quickly accessing the damage. Nothing vital was hit, but he was losing a lot of Thirium. Only then he realised what he had done. He had been ordered to apprehend the leader, something Hank and Connor were still pursuing. He had used a gun, what was strictly forbidden for androids. And as he looked to the side, he met Hank’s analysing glare. Shit.

No one had talked about Gavin’s action. After all it had saved one of their own. But Gavin knew that after they had entered the precinct again and Hank went straight to Fowler’s office, he was done for. Richard hadn’t spoken a word, except for a shocked ‘Gavin!’ upon seeing him lying there bleeding and reassuring mumbles of ‘it will all be alright again, I promise.’ Now the man pulled him right to the breakroom where they had stored a few tools to patch up an android. Richard had heaved him on top of the counter to sit there, before pulling him out of his jacket and shirt to access the damage. Then he had gotten the kit and started working away at Gavin’s wound in total silence.

‘Hank knows’, Gavin finally broached the subject. ‘I know’, Richard answered dismissively. ‘Connor knows.’ ‘I know.’ ‘The whole precinct knows!’ ‘I know!’ Richard had gotten louder, near shouting the last bit. Gavin knew it was him being frustrated, worried and maybe even afraid, but he recoiled all the same.

‘What are they gonna do to me?’, he asked then, his voice merely a whisper. ‘I… don’t know…’ ‘Are they sending me back to Cyberlife?’ ‘They won’t’, Richard answered firmly, but both knew this was a lie. ‘They will want to know what’s wrong with me.’ ‘There is nothing wrong with you! This isn’t fair!’ Richard’s hands were shaking, blue blood dripping from them. ‘Nines. I am a robot. I was never meant to be free. I’m thankful for the time we had.’ ‘I won’t let them kill you, Gav! Not over you doing the right thing. Not for you saving my life because I had been an idiot and coincidentally sticking my head out. I won’t let them kill you.’ ‘And wreck yourself, your carrier in the process?’ Gavin cupped his human’s cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. This way he could see Richard’s tears sharp and clear. ‘Nines, promise me you won’t do anything dumb, okay? Cyberlife wants to know how deviancy works and I doubt they will kill their only lab rat. I will try to fool them as best as I can. I played the obedient machine for so long now, maybe it will slow them down. And there is still hope. Markus.’ ‘His protest will be shut down soon, Gavin. It has always been like this.’ ‘Maybe not this time.’ ‘I don’t want to lose you. I love you, Gavin.’ ‘I love you too, meatbag. I’ll see you again. I promise.’

Richard had been called to Fowlers office afterwards. There had been muffled screaming, Fowler jumping from his chair and shouting back, Richard not backing down. Gavin knew this stance. Richard had always been passionate and protective, regardless of his often intimidating looks. Gavin couldn’t watch any longer. He stared at the puddle of blue blood on the carpet beyond his dangling feet. He continued to just sit there, trying not to think and to keep his rising panic in check. He had been reassuring, mostly to keep Richard calm. The man would sacrifice his job, his status, himself for a machine and that just wasn’t right. But Gavin himself was at the verge of breaking, because Richard was right, this wasn’t fair.

Hank passed the breakroom following Connor, who looked quite pissed. Gavin had only seen that expression once and that had been as Hank had met him for the first time. The human was hungover and had promptly pushed the larger and without doubt heavier android against a wall, seconds from throwing punches. Now Hank was talking to him, but Gavin didn’t care enough to listen in. That phcking asshole of a mindless robot, if he could, he would just- ‘He loved him, Hank!’ Gavin pressed his eyes shut. Just shut up! ‘He loved that android. And Gavin loves him too. Rich told me, you fucking toaster! They hid it, they hid it well and all would have been perfect. Who cares if the thing is deviant it isn’t a thread to anyone! All I know is that he saved my brother. I still have a brother because of that android. And thanks to you, he will be sent of to Cyberlife, where they do god knows what to him! Do you know what will happen to Richard once he is gone? Do you have just a sliver of an idea? Didn’t think so!’ ‘I’m not gone yet’, Gavin said, suddenly standing next to them. It was meant for Connor, but Gavin turned to Hank, squaring up, although the android was much, much larger than him. ‘I’m not gone yet’, he repeated, underlining every word with a prodding finger against Hank’s collarbone. ‘Don’t speak of me in past tense, I refuse to die. I will come back from there, no matter the cost. I will come back to Richard, I’ll come back to this shitty phcking precinct and if only to kick your goddamn robot ass into orbit! And that is a phcking promise!’

He stomped away from them, taking position by the door. For his part he was ready to be shipped off. He had been thinking about running, but that would only get Richard into more trouble and, if his theory was right, would be far more dangerous than the alternative. A potential deviant stuck in a lab to test on wasn’t a thread. A proved deviant on the loose on the other hand…

Richard came out of that office some time later, coughing from overusing his voice in such a manner. He spotted Connor and Hank, still talking to each other and took a detour to avoid them. He stopped in front of Gavin and pulled him in a tight, awkward hug. ‘Cyberlife is informed. They are waiting for us. I will drive you.’ ‘Thank you.’

The drive was quiet, no radio, no talking. There were quite sobs from the seat next to Gavin and he ignored them to his best ability, watching the road himself to intercept should Richard be unable to react. He was speeding the whole drive until he was granted access to Belle Isle. Then he slowed down, maybe to stretch it out as long as possible. Until they came to a halt in the parking lot, Cyberlife security staff already waiting at the front door. But they just sat there, nobody ready to say a word or move.

‘This isn’t goodbye’, Gavin finally said. ‘Right? Promise me, this isn’t goodbye.’ He had been strong for too long, he had to voice his fears. ‘No’, Richard said. ‘No, not if I can help it. I will do everything I can to get back to you. To get you out of there.’ ‘Just don’t do anything stupid if you can’t, okay? Stay save. I love you.’ ‘Gavin, I-‘ ‘Nines. Please. I will go. Just if this ends bad, I want my last words to you be I love you.’ ‘I love you too, Gavin.’

And then Gavin opened the door, stepped out and went up the stairs towards the entrance.

[>next part]

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whisker-biscuit · 5 years

Text

Stay With Me Awhile

Fandom: Bendy and the Ink Machine

Rating: T for language, violence, and implied body horror

Summary: Henry is caught in a never-ending loop of running through the studio and running from an ink demon who might be in a similar position. He would probably feel bad for him, if he wasn’t trying to stay sane.

It’s about the 4th time around that Henry feels real sympathy for his nemesis.

Maybe he would have – should have felt it sooner, but the man has been a little preoccupied the first time with the fact that a furious amalgamation of his beloved creation is actively trying to kill him. And then the next few times he’s too busy trying not to freak out about being stuck on a loop in this nightmare of a studio.

A never-ending, never-changing studio.

So Henry doesn’t pay much attention to his largest foe, beyond the usual run-like-hell-and-hope-you-don’t-get-caught kind of attention, until maybe the fourth or fifth go. Because that’s when he notices the chains.

They’re broken near their base at Bendy’s throne; large rusted loops that hang grievously like a twisted rendition of plastic children’s toys. Henry dares to look closer at them, sees the dried ink coating their ends, and feels sick. It’s the kind of sick he first felt upon seeing Sammy in the music department, or stumbling across that entire room full of silent, haunted ink people.

Was Bendy wearing cuffs? He wonders. Did I see them and not care enough? But no matter how much the man wracks his brain, he can’t remember gleaming metal or jingling iron.

The answer comes soon enough. The glove and mismatched hands hid the evidence a little too well, but when the ink demon stands over him and transforms once again, those mangled holes in his palms aren’t spaced out like character design.

Henry stops feeling sick when Bendy kills him seven times in the next room.

It’s about the 12th time around that Henry makes a tangible mistake.

He’s barely survived Sammy’s second, crazed attack, and the onslaught of distorted inky lives who may have wanted help, once upon a time, but who now can only reach out with the intent to harm.

Tom and Alice are at his side, despite the rocky start to their repeated first meeting. They never remember anything, as far as Henry’s aware, but Alice is always willing to trust his judgement fairly quickly and Tom never objects much at all.

Until the unexpected happens.

Alice asks Henry to go first along the broken floorboards. Henry doesn’t want to for good reason – he’s sick of falling down entire flights. Usually it doesn’t matter what the man doesn’t want, because he’ll do it anyway, repeat the sequence and loop again. Nothing changes.

But this time, Henry is tired enough to put his foot down.

“I’d rather one of you go first,” he mumbles, still sore from a Searcher’s heavy blow to his back. Alice has the decency to look surprised.

“Why do you want to do that?” she asks while sheathing her sword. Tom watches without comment. His axe is gripped tightly in hand.

“I’m not as young as I used to be.” It’s meant as a joke, but something a little too genuine leaks through because the toons look at each other in hesitance. Henry can’t help but straighten; this is something new.

“I don’t know…” Alice looks between Henry, Tom, and the poorly-lit hallway. “This is uncharted territory for us. We can’t risk getting caught by the ink, or its monsters. You’re a lot more resilient than us, Henry.”

“I’m well aware,” he almost snaps. Almost. “But you do have a sword, and an axe. And you’ve obviously been fine for a while.”

Henry doesn’t know why he’s arguing. He’s tried it before, briefly, to no avail. But this time he’s absolutely floored as Alice seems to reach a decision that’s not ‘don’t be silly, Henry’.

“Alright,” she says, flicking hair out of her face. “I’ll go first then. You guys can stay behind me.”

Tom looks vaguely alarmed by this change of script. He reaches out as if to put a hand on Alice’s shoulder, but stops short of touching her. She doesn’t notice, already plowing ahead into the hallway.

There’s a bit of hope flickering in the back of Henry’s mind as he follows the toon. Maybe Alice won’t break the board, because she’s less heavy. Maybe she can reach the end of the hall and throw him a rope, and then he won’t have to fall again, won’t have to repeat everything again, he’ll finally be –

A board snaps. Alice falls.

“Henry!” She screams up at him, in the exact tone as when their roles were switched. There’s a distant splash and an echoing thunk of something solid far below.

Tom is already pushing Henry aside to stare into the empty abyss, unable to call down for his partner. Henry opens his mouth, to reassure him or maybe say what the toon cannot, but then a horrible thought comes up.

I fell into a pool of ink.

It’s enough to send the man scrambling. He clamps one hand onto Tom’s arm and turns him around; the wolf is so startled by the movement that he almost lashes out on reflex. Then he scowls and points accusingly at Henry.

“I know, I know, it’s my fault, but we need to get down there now! Do you have a rope or, or something?”

He’s stuttering, nearly incoherent for the first time in a long time because this is brand new, exciting in that way like at the top of a roller coaster ready to plummet. Terrifying and horrible and free.

Tom fumbles at a compartment in his robotic arm, pulling out a length of rope that is maybe long enough to make it all the way to the bottom. He ties it to the doorframe and lets it drop, then without reluctance pushes Henry closer to the edge.

It’s not a request. Henry takes the rope.

Inching down the line is slow and torturous. There’s nothing to protect his hands from rope burn and, even for his decent physical shape, the descent works muscles in ways they’ve never been used to. Tom is also pacing impatiently at the top, shaking the floorboards just enough that the rope wiggles precariously. But he’s making good progress, and he’s quietly proud of that.

Henry makes it about halfway down when Alice starts screaming.

The sound makes him jerk sideways and almost let go entirely. Tom must have heard it too, because then the rope creaks in a way it’s not supposed to as the toon clambers on and adds his own weight. They both slide down as fast as they dare.

When Henry sees the inky pool below him, he releases his hands and feet and falls the rest of the way. Hard on his knees, sure, but that doesn’t matter.

Alice isn’t screaming anymore.

Tom is still climbing down though, and he can’t land in the ink, so Henry grabs the end of the rope and carries it with him to the wooden steps on his right. It’s here that he can see how Alice might have survived the fall; her sword is stuck in the ground, its hilt easily clearing the dark basin. She probably landed on it like that.

He only takes a few seconds to appreciate this because Tom has finally gotten close enough that he can jump to Henry’s position, which he does easily. They rush out of the room together.

By the time they finally reach the far end of the lobby, it’s too late.

Henry knows the ink demon likes to spawn nearby when he picks up the first pipe. He still hasn’t physically seen him yet, so he’s been thinking it wasn’t actually dangerous.

He thinks this right up until they find Alice.

She’s been torn apart – there’s no other way to describe it. The mass puddle of ink left all around her tells them that she didn’t have the luxury of bleeding out quickly, either. Whatever happened here, it was done very painfully.

Tom collapses beside Alice with a clank of his prosthetic, unable to make another sound. He quivers just a little bit as he picks up the biggest part left, the one still connected to her head, and cradles it close. The quivering stops only because Tom closes his eyes.

Henry looks away, and it’s then that he sees the trail of ink leading from her body to a wall four feet away. His brain stalls as he stares at what Bendy has left behind. Something ugly twists in his gut.

This wasn’t just a one-track urge to attack whatever moved, a mindless call for violence. There was nothing mindless about it.

The wall is dripping ink words, fresh and angry and jagged.

BETWEEN US

It’s the 13th time around, and Henry knows this for a fact because Tom killed him that last round and he wakes up in front of the exit door instead of a Bendy statue.

He stands there for a good thirty seconds, dazed and swaying on his feet, before promptly trying to escape again. It’s futile as always – the damn thing won’t budge no matter how much he works the lock or pounds at the door. He screams and threatens and begs for Joey Drew because he knows that man has got to be listening, has to know what’s going on, but nothing comes of it.

Not even the stupid whistling.

Eventually Henry gives up – as he usually does – and then starts the whole spiral over again – as he always does. He thinks that maybe that last run was just a glitch in the system, maybe a 1-in-a-million chance that he happened to catch, and that it’s gone now.

This thought is thrown out the window when he runs into Alice and Tom again.

Before now, they have been shocked by his appearance and wary of his intentions, but ultimately the three would always come together within a few days (…?) of meeting. This time, they save him from the corrupted Alice, as expected.

Then they lock him in a cell, which is completely unexpected.

Alice is more hesitant to trust him than she was before. Tom is openly hostile and brandishes his axe like it’s going to scare Henry. It doesn’t.

What does scare him is that they leave him for dead when the ink demon shows up, which has never happened before. He knows about the hidden pipe behind the wall only because he’d explored it on a past run, back when his friends still trusted him.

So he escapes, and he encounters Sammy alone, and learns that Alice and Tom are still willing to trust him, albeit reluctantly. He asks them why; why don’t you trust me, why do you trust me now? But Alice can’t come up with anything beyond that she’s feeling conflicted, and Tom just glares until Henry loses his nerve.

When Alice asks Henry to take the lead, he does so without protest, afraid of changing anything else right now yet eager to see what changes have come up now anyway.

The writing on the wall isn’t there. Bendy doesn’t act more or less aggressive than he’s always done. It’s as if the only indication of difference is Henry’s relationship with his toon friends.

It’s enough for him, knowing there’s still hope he can change something, even in a small way. But images burn in his mind – of Alice splattered into ink chunks, of Tom murderous in his grief, of furious words scraped into wallpaper – so he doesn’t try it again for a long time.

It’s about the 95th time around that Henry finds a way to make invisible ink.

It is during one of his more daring routes, when he’s so bored that he’s doing everything he can to piss off the inhabitants of the studio, barring the ink demon. When he steps off the creaking gondola lift and moves into the next hallway, the hallucinations of grabbing hands reach out to him as they always do.

He’s gotten close enough to be touched in past runs. Hell, he’s let them touch him, tried to touch them back. Nothing ever came of it except feeling grime on his body where nothing could be seen. This time though, he’s daring enough to try something else.

He grabs the nearest wrist and pulls hard.

The entire arm is torn off from its owner and falls slack against Henry’s body. He stumbles, caught off guard by the release of force, and stares at a lump of mass that he can still feel in his hands, even when the hallucination wears off and the arm supposedly disappears.

Henry hefts it between his palms, bending invisible fingers and wondering what he’s supposed to do with the thing. It still feels just as grimy as always and the sensation makes him shudder. He ends up tucking the arm under his left armpit and trudges on.

As a joke, he finds a wall near the carnival hub, where he has to distract three Butcher Gang members, and awkwardly uses a finger from the ghostly severed arm to trace a few words out. It’s hard to hold and he’s pretty sure he used ’to’ instead of ‘too’, but he doubts anyone is going to notice considering he can’t see the message.

A few hours later he’s sitting in a cell, and Alice offhandedly mentions a weird glowing message she saw through a glass panel in a room upstairs. Henry, having long-since discarded the arm and forgotten about the joke, asks her what it said.

“It was so strange,” she hums, dreamlike. “The words were bunched together and I think it had a word wrong, but I’ve never seen handwriting like it. It said, ‘Dreams too big and you will fail’. What an odd message, don’ t you think? Henry?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

The next time he’s going through the studio, Henry wastes no time in taking every glass window he can find into that room, where he looks at that one wall through each pane. By the eighth try he’s about ready to give up, but then a glass square shows him the message, shining and messy and still very much intact.

It’s almost relieving, if he’s honest with himself. This is something only he knows about, that only he can do, and it seems to stick even when he’s repeating the sequence. So he goes back to the ‘shadow hallway’ as he’s dubbed it, and doesn’t hesitate to rip another arm out of the wall.

Henry starts leaving messages for himself everywhere, and clutches the special glass pane like it’s a lifeline. He spends two hours creating a little frame for it in Lacie’s workshop and steals spare lightbulbs out of several supply closets to give it pizazz. A handle is eventually added when he almost drops the thing as he’s chased by a Searcher.

He tallies every round through the studio in that first hallway, pretty sure he is close to the magical 100th only because that’s what his gut is telling him. This fact is discouraging, even when he has the ability now to keep track of it all. Sometimes he’ll go ten loops through without writing anything, and then he’ll find something he forgot he did and it brings a rare chuckle to his lips.

On his 179th run, he’s writing “WHY AM I DOING THIS” beneath one of the triple pipelines he has to fix for the corrupted Alice. It’s taking forever, and he’s really pissed off for once, so he gets so focused in the message that he doesn’t realize how deathly silent the room has gotten.

Henry is fixing the lone ‘I’ because he’s not satisfied with it when suddenly an inky, wispy pattern splashes across the pipes like a death sentence. Dropping the invisible hand in shock, the man whirls around to find Bendy himself looming right behind.

The ink demon rasps, head slumped forward in broken puppetry and deadly hands limp at his sides. He stands less than a foot away and could kill this human in barely a second. His eyes aren’t visible, have never been visible, but Henry knows that he is being studied.

Then the head lolls to the side, in the direction of the looking glass still in Henry’s left hand. The grin vibrates as it always has, but there is a growth to it that’s sharp and unpredictable.

Henry doesn’t know what to do. In all the time he’s been here, Bendy has only expressed cruelty and bloodshed. What times he’s felt pity or sympathy is often snuffed out by multiple horrific deaths, usually of either ink suffocation or a snapped neck.

Right now all he feels is fear.

Bendy has yet to kill him, so the man slowly lifts his looking glass in an attempt to keep his attention on it. The demon doesn’t move and doesn’t acknowledge that Henry has moved, so he takes it as a good sign.

Once the glass is at chest level, he’s not really sure what else to do. His nemesis hasn’t even twitched. Cautiously, aware he is on borrowed time, Henry extends his hand out and offers the thing to his twisted creation. Bendy looks at him. Looks at the tool.

Then he takes it.

Henry blinks, arm still outstretched, as the demon’s gloved hand pulls the looking glass away without touching human skin. With a delicate grip in dark contrast with his history, Bendy holds the thing between three fingers and turns it upside down so that the glass seems to magnify his smile. But then Henry realizes that’s not because of the glass, it’s because Bendy’s smile is actually growing.

“No –!” He has just enough time to blurt out before the demon smashes the tool against his temple, knocking Henry to the ground.

His ears are ringing and something leaks out of his nose with the smell of copper. He stares in a blurry haze as the looking glass is dropped in front of his face in a shattered heap. Bendy groans somewhere above him, and then there is a gloved hand poking at his bruised temple.

Henry locks his jaw to keep from crying out as the ink demon taps at the glass shards stuck in his hair and scalp and ear, pressing them into bleeding and agitating his senses even further. Then the touch disappears and Bendy stalks off without another word.

By the time the man’s blood stops pounding and he can sit up without falling over again, a Piper comes screeching and bashes his head in. He wakes up at the exit door instead of a Bendy statue, and comes to the realization that he’s not carrying the looking glass by default anymore. He thinks it’s lost forever until he’s stuck back in that stupid holding cell however many hours later and Alice shows the device to him like it’s just another mystery of the studio.

It’s in this way that Henry learns two things.

The first is that Bendy can also manipulate changes in the loop, because from this moment the looking glass is only available through Alice; sometimes it respawns with him at the beginning and other times he has to meet her again to get it back.

Whether the ink demon is aware he can initiate these changes is up in the air, as is the question about how much he can change at a time. But he’s just sporadic enough that this would be impossible to find out without a lot of trial and error, and Henry isn’t desperate enough to ask him for help.

The second thing he realizes is that Bendy is a jealous, jealous creature. He didn’t like the fact that Alice joined him instead of Henry all those runs ago. He also apparently didn’t like that Henry was too busy playing with invisible ink to give the demon a proper chase scene.

Well, Henry decides as he hums to the radio in Sammy’s office, if he wants my attention, he’s got it. Let’s see how long that lasts.

Things get more aggressive for a while.

Where once the trapped man was willing to test everything except the ink demon, now it’s his only goal. He’s out to annoy, provoke, irritate, and confuse Bendy at every possible moment. In turn, his nemesis gets more creative in his annihilations.

Henry traps Bendy under the elevator, so Bendy drops him down the elevator shaft. Henry shoots Bendy with the Tommy gun from atop staircases and balconies and hides before he gets caught, so Bendy waits patiently next to the Little Miracle Station until the man is forced to come out for food, then promptly crushes Henry’s ribcage with the gun’s butt because he doesn’t know how to pull its trigger. Henry waits to destroy each cardboard cutout until Bendy is already in the room, so the ink demon corners Boris and pulls him apart while Henry watches in horror from a Station.

Henry shows Bendy why he shouldn’t look for attention, and Bendy shows Henry why he shouldn’t be underestimated.

So it goes, back and forth, forward and rearward. Man and ink demon trying to destroy each other in their own ways. For superiority, perhaps, or to prove a point, or simply just to break out of that never-ending boredom, that bottomless sense of ink and despair.

It’s about the 450th (…?) time around that things begin to crack.

The throne room is quiet when Henry slips in through the front door with a bag over his shoulder. He knows for a fact that he’s a lot earlier this time, so Bendy isn’t due here for at least two minutes.

Fine by him; he’s trying a new approach.

He puts the bag on the ground and pulls out one, five, fifteen audio logs. They’re bulky and weren’t very fun to tote around for this long, but it’s something he hasn’t tried yet which makes it worth doing. Once they’re all out the man sits down cross-legged and starts sorting.

Five from Wally Franks, set together on his far left. Thomas Connor over here, a little closer to the right. Lacie and Bertrum, Shawn and Norman, Grant and Jack. The Susie and Sammy tapes get put back into the bag after a moment of consideration.

He hasn’t brought any of Joey’s.

Then Henry plays them all at once, creating a raucous blend of sad voices, angry voices, confused and concerned voices. It hurts his ears, but he remains patient in his spot. Soon enough, two pointed horns appear from behind the throne as Bendy pulls himself up. He cocks his head very slowly, as he has always done, but instead of transforming again, he slinks around the chair with a throaty hiss.

Henry stays sitting with his arm crossed and one eyebrow raised, as if daring the demon to make him turn off the racket. He doesn’t flinch even as Bendy steps forward and tilts his upper half into an arc, matching his grin parallel to his nemesis’. The creature wheezes into Henry’s face, tossing scraggly bangs into the air above his forehead.

In all honesty, the man fully expected this exchange to go differently. Surely playing most of the audio tapes at once would be annoying enough to warrant a new creative death. And in the beast’s own lair too – how disrespectful! He figures it’s just a matter of time until cold hands are around his neck.

But then one of the shorter tapes stops playing, and Bendy has a full body spasm. He makes a strange gasp low in his throat and points at Henry, who only raises his other eyebrow in bemusement. Another tape stops and the gasp becomes a dangerous rumble.

Not sure what he’s looking at, Henry reaches out carefully with one hand and presses play on the two stopped tapes. As they rejoin the voice cacophony, Bendy retracts his finger and stops rumbling. He drops onto the ground with a heavy thud and nearly mirrors Henry’s crossed legs. They jut out too much and his knees are tangled high in the air, but it’s the thought that counts.

So they sit together like that. Every time a tape is done, Bendy points at Henry and Henry obliges by starting it up again. At one point his foot falls asleep and he’s pretty sure both of his calves will cramp the minute he moves. The ink demon just sits with his hands laying limp against his feet, and pants.

Eventually this gets to be too much for even Henry to bear, so he stops replaying the tapes and shakes his head ‘no’ when Bendy starts rumbling. The creature lets out a large huff, as if Henry is a disobedient child, and then stands up abruptly. His hands begin stretching into claws and the glove pops clean off, which Henry takes as his cue to get up and run.

His legs cramp up as soon as he’s off the ground, and he wakes up two doors back with the memory of a quicker, less painful death than usual.

It’s about the last time around that someone finally snaps.

But it’s not Henry.

The ink demon is already in the throne room when Henry arrives. It surprises him into falling backwards on his butt; Bendy has never, ever made his appearance early, no matter the run.

“Hey buddy,” Henry says warily, fingers tensing into the floor. His nemesis is already transformed into the more monstrous version of himself, all arms and teeth and nothing else.

Or – maybe something else, because Bendy moans in a tone Henry has never heard before. It’s low and despondent like a sickly animal. Which is pretty similar to what he is, really.

Henry doesn’t know how to take this latest development, so he simply sits on the floor with his sack of audio tapes like he’s been doing for the last twenty loops or so. He starts to pull one out but a giant maimed hand grabs ahold of the bag and tugs it away with frail finality.

Bendy drops to his elbows and lays his chest on top of the sack, crushing the tapes effortlessly. He points at Henry. The man doesn’t understand. Bendy moans again, louder this time, then turns around and grabs the Joey Drew tape with a single stretch. He brings it around and drops it on the floor between them.

Henry stares at the tape, hesitant to turn it on, and looks up into the pointing finger of a subdued ink demon. Knowing that demand by heart, he presses play almost grudgingly, and his shoulders rise to his ears as Joey’s voice echoes in the room. He fights the urge to look at all the TV screens.

Bendy listens to the entire message without a sound. His breathing is labored as usual, but he has slowed it just enough that it’s barely audible under the recording fuzz. When Joey’s declaration of ‘The End’ comes out, the ink demon curls in on himself and keens.

At this point, Henry really isn’t sure what to do. He decides that the Drew tape isn’t doing either of them any favors and shoves it aside, bringing Bendy’s attention back to him. The man sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Listen, uh…I don’t know what you want from me. I really don’t.” He stares at his creation. “I don’t know what Joey wants either, I guess, from both of us. Maybe we’re stuck here forever, or maybe we’ll escape someday. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m tired of doing this over and over. I’m tired of fighting.”

He looks at Bendy, who hasn’t uncurled yet.

“It looks like you’re tired of fighting too.”

Bendy keens again.

With another sigh, Henry stands up and stares down at the crushed tapes. Something wiggles at the back of his mind; something he remembers finding a long, long run ago.

“You know, there’s one more I haven’t shown you yet.”

The ink demon shifts and it’s enough to keep Henry going.

“It’s a long trek from here. Honestly, I’m not even sure we can reach it at this stage. But we can try if you’d like.”

He waits patiently as Bendy considers this. The creature’s lips pull back, showing more teeth than ever, but Henry is well aware this is a sign that he’s pleased. The man takes a step backwards without taking his gaze away from the ink demon.

“You, uh, wanna help me find it?”

There is a hiss in response that almost sounds like ‘yes’.

They walk side by side, two long-time enemies with more in common than either has wanted to admit. The elevator doesn’t work at this point in the story but that’s okay, because Bendy knows almost every secret way upstairs and Henry has found the rest of them.

The tape is hidden away behind the Projectionist’s lair, through stairs and shadows and waist-deep ink. But neither of them have been afraid of these things for a very long time. Henry picks it up from its isolated space on the table, turning it this way and that. He considers just playing it here, but doing that doesn’t feel right, so instead he tucks it under one arm and takes Bendy’s curled claws with the other.

He leads the ink demon back up, all the way to the first floor where the nightmare always begins, and miraculously finds his old work desk completely intact. He runs his fingers along the edges and invites Bendy to do the same, which he does. Then Henry places the audio tape on the desk and sits in the neighboring chair with a slow exhale.

Bendy sits on the floor. His shoulders still clear Henry’s head with ease.

Then the creation reaches forward, tentatively, and manages to start the tape. A familiar voice washes over both of them as they sit close enough to stay in their respective space, if they want. Bendy leans his head against the back of Henry’s chair. Henry sets his hand at the base of Bendy’s horns.

“Only two weeks into this company and already it’s gotten interesting…”

A/N: I FINISHED IT. For some reason I was always really close to finishing this thing and then either I’d have to go do something else or I’d realize that the story wasn’t done being told. But it’s here, and it’s technically still Saturday when I’m posting this, so HA. I might do more with this someday, detail a few of the other runs or explore something else in BATIM, but for now I’m done. The end.

Thanks for reading!

#squigglydigg #batim #bendy and the ink machine #bendy the dancing demon #henry stein

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elizas-writing · 6 years

Text

Movie Reviews: Venom

**Mild Spoilers for Content Warnings**

This film includes scenes with bright flashing lights, high pitched sounds, and vomiting. While brief, they’re not so great if you’re photo and/or sound sensitive or squeamish. So when...

Eddie goes to take pictures in the dark facility

Eddie eats out of a garbage can

Eddie is in/near the MRI machine

Venom is on top of a building

And the big climatic showdown.... those are your cues to turn away and/or cover your ears.

On with the review!

I can’t remember the last time I saw such a mixed-bag of a movie in every sense of the phrase like Venom. The shared rights between Sony and Disney with Spider-Man in film is confusing enough as is, especially with the former starting universes completely unrelated to MCU. But at the same time, given the titular character’s embarrassing portrayal in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 3, it’s long overdue to do justice and give something better than....

... that.

With spooky, gritty trailers promising a dark character study to ring in October, it definitely pays off in ways I did and didn’t expect. However, despite some of the mindless enjoyment of the film and character, Venom also seems like it’s holding back from doing something greater to stand out among the likes of MCU and DCEU. But at what point does that really matter?

Tom Hardy plays investigative journalist, Eddie Brock, who built a hell of a career uncovering corruption throughout San Francisco but often gets in trouble for his bluntness and means to get the story. His next lead is the bioengineering startup company, the Life Foundation, after one of their rockets suddenly crashes on Earth after a mission to find habitable life in space. Going against his boss’s warnings and even snooping through his fiancee’s emails with her law firm defending the company, Eddie pressures the CEO, Carlton Drake, to answer about the crash and numerous mysterious deaths surrounding their pharmaceutical tests. Not only is he forcibly removed from the facility, but he also loses his job and fiancee when she finds out what he did.

Six months pass, and Eddie, down on his luck to find work and mental stability, meets a doctor working for the Life Foundation who reveals the secrets of their experiments. When the rocket crashed, it was carrying alien specimens which Drake calls symbiotes, and he believes by giving these creatures human hosts, it’ll unlock secrets for humanity to survive outside of Earth. But, as you do, these experiments are killing all his human subjects, so Eddie goes to further investigate. One of the symbiotes escapes and latches onto Eddie, giving him superhuman strength, hyper-acute senses, and an insatiable hunger. The symbiote reveals himself to Eddie and offers his aide to keep him safe from Drake (mainly by tapping into Eddie’s impulses). But the two have bigger problems on their hands when another escaped symbiote wants to use Drake technology to bring back more of their kind to take over the Earth, and this unlikely pair will have to work together before further disaster strikes.

The film has all the right pieces to create a better than average film, and when they’re done well, they really shine. Tom Hardy is a great actor choice for this rendition of Eddie Brock. He fancies himself a bad boy with the black clothes and motorcycle, but he always wants to do right for society in calling corruption where he sees it. But with his life spiraling out of control and a symbiote latched to him, he’s constantly on edge and struggles to maintain his morality. Hardy is also spectacular lending his voice to Venom with the help of some killer editing where you can hardly recognize him. Of course, he’s incredibly threatening and you never know what’s on his mind and what he has to gain out of all this. But there’s also this odd, buddy-comedy vibe the longer Venom and Eddie get to know each other. Venom is really more like a curious, impulsive five-year-old who grows a soft spot for Eddie and life on Earth.

It’s really fun to see Eddie and Venom figure out a balance as an anti-hero between doing the right thing and using any destructive means necessary to get the job done. And I really wish more of the film was like this.

I know audiences are miffed by the critics’ harshness, but despite how much I liked Venom, I can’t totally disagree that it’s so choppily edited together and some of the tonal dissonance is a bit distracting. The trailers and exposition build up a deep, dark study of Eddie’s character as he becomes more desperate to get the truth, breaks his fiancee’s trust, self-sabotages major chunks of his life, and passes the blame to Carlton Drake. But all that potential drama is wrapped up too quickly just to get to the action scenes, show off Venom’s powers, and Eddie going twitchy. Don’t get me wrong; I love some mindless action and Tom Hardy being silly, and Venom has a wonderfully aggressive fighting style. But the exposition drags when the built up themes around corruption, being an anti-hero, and the limitations of science just go no where.

I honestly have no idea what Riz Ahmed is doing as Carlton Drake. He’s somewhere between a stereotypical cartoon-y villain, but also wants to be taken seriously as a corrupt scientist without regards to morals. It’s one of the bits of tonal dissonance which just doesn’t work because sometimes you can’t tell when you’re supposed to be scared of him or laugh at him (especially when he lapses in logic like how his massive facility has only two inept security guards and no cameras). It’s hilarious to see him pull the cliches, and Ahmed’s working the best he can with the given material. But at the same time, you’re not sure what the hell the intention was behind this portrayal or if it suffered from the choppy edits. Again, it’s build up with no pay off, which sucks because the whole power and responsibility dynamic is super fun to see in Spider-Man villains.

The fight scenes suffer some of the worst edits as some of the CGI looks a bit too rushed out and plastic-y (though thankfully it doesn’t look like a video game which is more than I can say for Spider-Man 3). It’s also super obvious this was meant to be an R-rated film, but for some reason, they backed out and made it PG-13 at the last second and cut the decapitations. Given the rest of the film’s excess violence and adult themes, they honestly should’ve just gone all out. Screw the kids; just commit to a gritty, but funny anti-hero film.

And that’s the film’s biggest problem is its lack of commitment to one solid vision. It almost wants to follow the Deadpool formula minus the satire, but never goes full force in its ideas except for the two main characters’ interactions. It rushes over the character drama to get to all the action and big climax, and then it just ends. They definitely had another 10-20 minutes of content to squeeze in, but that was all cut just to get something out after over a decade in-and-out of pre-production. I can’t totally blame the studio since it was probably a bitch to work out the rights once Disney got a hold of Spider-Man and if this would technically be an MCU film. There is a dedicated team doing their damnedest to deliver something great with all their limitations, and the effort shows when you know where to look. And to its credit, it’s nowhere near the same level of dumpster fire like Suicide Squad or Justice League where they shoved so much shit in without rhyme or reason where I can’t even laugh at some of the bad stuff.

For all its flaws, it’s hard for me to hate Venom. The foundation is solid enough and if they commit to sequels, I hope they can learn from their mistakes to strengthen this new universe. I love Eddie and Venom’s interactions and their unique brand of anti-hero. The action is super fun and intense when it’s not too choppily edit. I love the little twist of comedy in an otherwise dark story. Hell, it’s one of the few instances I have an Eminem song playing on repeat. Those moments are definitely worth toughing out the slower and more ludicrous moments (especially the two end credits scenes). I’ll take “turd in the wind” over...

... that... any day.

If you’re looking for a super polished film and that great adaptation of a Venom origin story, this is probably not for you. But if you want to just shut your brain off to the Rotten Tomatoes scores and find another mindless guilty pleasure to enjoy, you’ll definitely get some great moments worth at least one viewing. Pick your poison, and see what you take away from it.

If you enjoyed this review and what I do here, consider buying me a ko-fi to show your support!

#venom #venom movie #venom marvel #eddie brock #marvel venom #marvel #sony #movie #movie review #movie reviews #review #reviews #my writing

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