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ediblenapkin-moved · 6 years

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That's the Thing About Dreams- Chapter 5

A/N: CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 2-

So hey! I’m back, and it’s time for cHAPTER MOTHERFIPPITY 2-

Anyways. This is gonna be either fun, or a complete and utter pain in the neck to write (my bet’s on the latter…). Who knows, though? (Future me. that’s who. future me what’s your status) (future iteration 1- i am not doing well. i am having small difficulties. oh my i did not spell that right what is wrong with me what time is it) (translation: it is 10:26 PM, i am covered in mosquito bites and this story is a pain.) (future iteration 2- i took a break. it’s a whole new day… and I’m ending the chapter. why? because me, that’s why. chapter 2’s gonna be in at least 3 separate pieces… and chapter 3???? hahahaha yeah that’s gonna be in at least 3 too. at least. i’m not even gonna try for ch4. not yet.)

Edit: I thought this chapter was gone today. So far, I’ve been writing all these little shits offline, google docs, you know? Well, today I got online- and when it went to sync my offline changes… three of eight documents I’d created/edited offline had vanished. Ofc, this scared me to no end- these things weren’t fun to figure out, in terms of all the little pieces and bits- and I was flipping out. I thought I was going to have to rewrite at least three different stories.

Thankfully, I waited a little bit and they reappeared. Which is good. But that was terrifying…

But now I'm on mobile. I just gotta mess with the formatting every damn time I go to post... I don't know if it's better or worse this way.

Enjoy.

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The first thing Joey was aware of was that his head was pounding.

“What hit me…?” He groaned, slowly pushing himself up. Once he was standing, he put a hand to his head. The throbbing was going away, but not fast enough.

He shut his eyes, waiting for it to go away. It didn’t, but it became manageable.

He finally reopened his eyes, looking around the small room- and quickly stepping out of the pentagram. It hurt to look at for some reason- the pulse in his head got worse even thinking about it.

He found himself picking up the axe, which, oddly enough, was now leaning against one of the coffins… and he knew he hadn’t left it there as he’d passed out. Which meant someone had been here and they moved his axe… but was that all they did?

Joey sighed. It wasn’t helping anyone to ask all these questions that- at the moment at least- had no answers. With that in mind, he looked towards the closed door in front of him.

Guess I’ve got no choice now… I’ve got to keep moving. Keep moving forward…

He chopped the boards off the next door and started walking.

Another stairwell. This one proudly displayed a little sign that read UTILITY SHAFT 9. As he walked down, a board collapsed and fell from the ceiling- nearly causing Joey to slip and fall down the stairs. Thankfully, he caught himself.

As soon as he reached the bottom step, he looked up- and another line greeted him- HE WILL SET US FREE- scrawled next to a smaller version of the cutouts that were everywhere. The little shelf was filled with candles, and cans of bacon soup, some closed, some open and poured in bowls. A banjo was leaning next to the shelf, slightly dusty.

He walked further in, noting that most of the shelves were in a similar state to the first- except one had another cassette tape. He clicked play.

“He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon me. The figure of ink that shines in the darkness. I see you, my savior. I pray that you hear me. Those old songs, I still sing them. For I know you are coming to save me. And I will be swept into your final loving embrace. But, love requires sacrifice. Can I get an amen?”

The tape clicked off, and Joey frowned. He made to step back-

“I said, can I get an amen?”

He spun around- and stopped.

Sammy Lawrence- his voice- it had just been here, right behind him. Joey was sure of it- he was here. Somewhere.

After a minute of silence, Joey took a deep breath and kept going. He’d never in his life heard the songwriter like that- and it was genuinely creepy. It was wrong, it was too calm, it was too… off.

By nature, he tended to be loud, impatient, and was easily distracted at times. He was also an amazing composer- the studio’s only composer. With him around, there was no need for another. Sammy worked best alone, but made an exception for the lyricist- who, at first, he’d shown no mercy to. But eventually something had happened- and they were able to be in the same room and actually talk to each other.

Joey reached the next hallway- and stopped. It was flooded with ink. Knee high at least, and it looked positively repulsive. After taking a moment to sigh- his shoes and socks had finally been dry when he’d woken up- he stepped in and began wading to the other side.

And then, halfway down the hall, he heard muttering. Whispering- and then a dark figure clad in white overalls appeared, walking past the doorway- carrying a Bendy cutout under its arm.

The voice, while quiet- was unmistakable.

“Lawrence? Lawrence! What the hell-” He pulled himself through the rest of the hall as fast as he could, nearly jumping out of the ink to turn the corner the songwriter had vanished around-

Only to see a dead end… and the Bendy cutout sitting in front of a pentagram scratched on the wall.

Joey looked around, noting the trail of ink- but where the hell had he gone?

The voice in his head whispered, It’s got something to do with this ink. It’s everywhere, and that’s unnatural… ‘Who needs that much ink anyways?’ Something is really off with all this.

It’s not right…

He turned around, noticing a closed metal gate- much like the ones that had penned him in upstairs- and a panel next to it, featuring three blinking lights.

Seems like the gate needed power.

He found himself searching for the three different switches- two of them were back down the flooded hall, and after coming back through it for the third time he sat down, took off his shoes, then wrung out his socks. It was a pointless move- there was ink everywhere, and it was more than likely he was gonna be covered in it at some point, and more than just knee high or waist high- probably neck high or above head.

He slipped his slightly less soaked socks back on, then his shoes. He stood and walked over to the switchboard- all three lights were on. He threw the switch.

With a rumble and a lot of groaning, the metal gate slowly lifted- and just as it clicked into place, a low moan sounded- followed by the sound of a light flicking on.

Joey walked closer to the boarded up doorway- seriously, what was up with all these boarded up areas- and listened, but there was nothing else. Quickly, he hacked his way through the wood, and walked in.

The music department kind of looked like shit at the moment.

Ink puddles scattered everywhere, only a few candles- god it was dark- and most of the lights were off. Looking around, Joey sighed before noticing the tape next to the sign- in the dark, it was hard to see, but this tape was labelled- Lawrence. He turned it on.

“So first this Ink Machine is installed over our heads. Then it begins to leak. Three times last month we couldn’t even get out of our department because the ink kept flooding the stairwell. The solution? An ink pump to drain it periodically. Now I have this ugly pump switch right in my office. People in and out all day. Just what I needed. More distractions. These stupid cartoon songs don’t write themselves, you know.”

Now that sounded like Sammy…. the stairwell, right. Turning around, Joey walked to the stairs- and what do you know? It was flooded. The main power switch sat on the wall to the right, though- thankfully. He threw the switch, hearing the clicking of lights turning on- then wincing as the room suddenly filled with harsh light.

And then, the sound of ink dripping filled the room.

He turned, and walked back into the main room-

And a glob of ink dropped from the ceiling, forming into a humanoid shape.

Almost instantly, it swiped at Joey, who raised the axe and swung back.

Only one of them made their mark.

The body- he assumed- melted, and returned to a regular puddle of ink.

And then there were more.

Before he got time to think, he was fighting the inky creatures as best he could- he wasn’t a perfect aim with the axe- but eventually the last one took a hit and vanished, leaving Joey, panting, alone in the room as music began to play- and as a metal gate began to open.

And, finally, he got a chance to think, and a chill ran down his back.

Those things… weren’t right.

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A/N: jesus fuckin shit this is gonna be hard

i just rewatched someone play through it… fuck. I THOUGHT I WAS DONE SHORTCUTTING CRAP-

Nope. Apparently not. Sorry, suckers, but we’re shortcutting the hell out of this chapter… and Chapter 3. Saying it now so you don’t wonder, because no way in hell am I writing out that entire fucking annoying ass errand list. The Angel can go suck a lemon.

(Am I reading too many fics these days…? I’m actually not swearing as much as I usually do. wow. thanks for the influence, fics.)

I can already tell this fic, if it gets finished porplery, (porperly????? pfft), will be about 8 chapters minimum. so yeah. probably around 12 or 14…. excluding bullshit…

Is it crazy that I’m already looking forward to transcribing Chapter 3? Yes? No? Maybe, so? (hahahahhahahahahahahahahahahaahahah sorry)

next up: cutouts. why.

#that's the thing about dreams chapter #that's the thing about dreams #batim #fanfiction #animator reversal au #my writing #writing tag

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