#no escape batdr au

[ari-lawrence-polk]

“Remember who you are Lawrence…”

Took over 4 hours and I absolutely love it.. for now. First drawing where the hands look fine as hell

(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞(❤ω❤)

The background a little goofy goober 😋

[sammy-lawrence-child]

Oh-.. Um I’m not a wolf I’m actually a Black Cat. Though Amaya is a Golden Retriever so she’s sorta like a wolf, well dog wise.

Though I didn’t always have these ears, they kinda showed up after Wilson froze the cycle. Same for Amaya.

I don’t take offense to the comment though, you two are way too adorable to be mad at 😋

(My dumb self wrote the wrong character name on the drawing so just ignore that, it’s supposed to say Amaya)

Omg, another fellow Batim blog! Hiya! Names Ari! Pleasure to meet ya!

Seems interesting seeing two Bendy’s around, Sammy(in my AU) would loss his mind if he saw them!

Just thought I’d stop by and say hi. Hope you are having a great day! :)

[fancybendyboi]

" Do you think if I fall in the water, would I become part of the ocean like ink to water? Or would I just sink? "

[thebekashow]

How to tell the difference!

(Beka's old mom vs. her new mother)

(Darker skin, youngish (mid.. 30s), cut off horns, fancier bow, and has a wrap around her neck.)

Personality? Well, she's a lot less crazy n rude.. and she's currently the only alice to ever escape the loop. Allison also escaped, but where she is, no one knows..

Escape alice was more so a doctor for the studio rather than a cooky organ stealer. She managed to gain a bit of sanity, but she still had mixed feelings about Allison.

[insane-control-room]

Through the Golden Door

Henry's about to go back into that awful cycle, when Joey finally says something different. Change is always nice. Especially one as drastic as this could be. As it is.

ao3 link

WARNINGS: past murder, past autopsy, minor violence, blood mention, body horror

“Go on in,” Joey said, again. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Henry sighed, as for what felt like the four hundred fifteenth time, he turned as if by route to the door, pulling that dark abyss open and stepping once more to hell.

“Have you ever… tried going back?” Joey suddenly asked, each word strained as though it was torn from his lungs. Henry froze in place, the door blocking Joey from his view, and slowly, he pulled himself back from the entrance of the studio, which seemed to pulse like a hungry jowl. He pushed on the door as he did so, wrenching himself free of the grasp it held on him as he forced himself back into Joey’s apartment. His best friend (he still was, after all this time…) was sweating with the effort to speak more than was scripted, chest heaving and swaying as he gripped the counter. “Through the other d-door.”

“Yes,” Henry answered, befuddled. Joey never seemed to leave the kitchen, always scrubbing at that one bread knife as feverishly as a man trying to erase his sins. Except for that one time that he managed to drag him off to his own room, covering his mouth with a soft, albeit calloused hand to keep him from starting the dreadful cycle again, and laid down with him, neither saying a word, only breathing as they stared at one another. Eventually the cycle began anew, and Henry could not tell if it was more or less painful than usual. He shook his head to clear it of that memory, so distant now. They had done so little to try to break free in this netherspace, not in the least due to the immense pain caused by stepping even slightly off track within. “Joey, of course I tried going back that way, it might have been the first thing I did, but I don’t even remember stepping through the door. Have you ever heard it close behind me?” 

“No, I haven’t,” Joey murmured, reaching to grasp his wheelchair, unfolding it with a press of a button (his ingenuity never ceased to amaze Henry) and sat slowly, agonized by Henry’s remaining presence and yet glad for it. Henry himself felt heat of fire on his fingertips, but he ignored it for the sake of these precious minutes where a difference, however slight, however impossible, could be made. Johan always was the more optimistic of the two. “Let’s t-take a look.” 

Henry followed him, and the further he got from the door, the less harsh its tug on his ankles became, shuffling drags of his feet turning to steps. Joey seemed to have the opposite effect, cursing under his breath and clamping his right hand to his stomach. Henry tried not to watch as the deterioration of Joey’s body worsened as they neared that door. 

Henry tried the handle, having no success. While the studio door seemed to leak liquid night at the bottom, the shimmering of light at the edges of the front door sparkled in Joey’s eyes- eye. Henry carefully positioned himself on Joey’s left side so as to keep all of the worst damage out of view. Joey then reached for the door himself, a hissing noise heard from the handle, and he drew his hand away quickly, the sheen of burns already visible. He frowned, setting his hand on the center of the door instead as he tried to feel something within. 

“It’s not p-powered,” he quietly commented. Henry stared at him as he looked up and down the door. “May I have the s-seeing tool, please?”

Henry cautiously handed him the device, watching carefully as Johan pulled at one of the wires leading to the lights. He frowned as the lights flickered out, though he trusted Joey; after all, he was the one who had made the incredible tool in the first place. Joey restrung one of the wires to the lower hinge, and set himself to removing the other wire. He reached awkwardly towards the upper hinge, forcing himself to his feet and collapsing heavily back in the wheelchair once it was applied to the top. The lights flickered and then began to glow, almost more strongly than when the seeing tool had been wired in on itself. 

“There we go,” Henry remarked, feeling a slight smile grow on his face. He gently clapped a hand on Joey’s shoulder, ignoring the icy chill it caused. “Now, shall we have a gander?” 

“Go for it,” Johan murmured, exhausted by this short excursion. His hand, holding the tool, trembled quite badly. “I don’t th-think I can touch that knob short of s-singing myself.”

Henry nodded, and touched the handle cautiously, but found that it was only dreadfully cold, not burning hot as Joey experienced it. Cautiously, he grasped it fully, and carefully turned it open. Holding his breath, he pulled it free of its posts. 

Where the studio had been dark, this exit shone as bright as the End. Henry marveled at the sight, while the world outside was still in those grating sepia tones, they were… different. More real, details stark and vivid. 

“Woah,” was all he could say. He reached a hand through, and watched as a body molded around his form, previously invisible without the assistance of the seeing tool. It was not his body, no, that gloved hand was unmistakable, but it was a body in the world of the living. Slowly, he pulled himself past that glistening doorway, ink softly whispering around him and giving him limbs that could be seen. Though he was aware his mouth was no longer functional, he still turned to face Joey, that permanent grin genuine. Easily, his hands spoke for him. ‘How do I look’?

Joey said something, but the golden barrier between them hindered his words, swallowed them and kept them from Henry’s hearing. The man frowned, understanding that Henry had not heard him, and wheeled a bit to the desk, scribbling on it and coming back just as quickly as he had left. He held the drawing forwards, though his hand pressed to the space where the door had been, the drawing fluttered to the floor, free of his grasp. Henry picked it up, and noted with some morbid amusement that the line of his hair remained. He looked up at Joey, who looked so desperately like he wanted to join him. Henry reached through the barrier, taking Joey’s hand, ignoring the chill that ran down him as he accidentally brushed his fingers over the metal thumb. 

‘I will see you soon’, he signed to him, glad to see that it gave him some measure of comfort. Joey mouthed a goodbye, replying in hand as well. Henry blew him a kiss, smiling at the fact that he had gotten Joey to blush. Still got it (or rather, him). ‘Bye, for now’.

Johan smiled slightly, sadly, and closed the door, more than likely to go and lay in his bed to wait for the pain riddling his entire body to pass. Once, Henry had done an autopsy medical examination of him, and the results disturbed him; there was acute necrosis within several sections of his body, though it was only visible the closer Joey got to the front door. 

His right eye was blind to the real world, the nerve connections within his skull showing several anomalies, though Henry was not sure what the strange nodes caused Joey to see, be it hallucinations or nothing at all. The seeing tool revealed that the eye and its nerve were entirely black, with small sparks of gold flickering through, and that was something that certainly could not be caused by Henry backhanding Joey with the seeing tool (he had collapsed nearly instantly, Henry had finished him off by holding him in a headlock, whispering in his ear comfort as his struggles weakened). His left foot, too, was rotten on the inside, the bone fragmented into a strange glow rather than anything that could be stood upon. His right hand was severely damaged as well, and Henry had no clue as to what could have caused it, until he finished sawing open his head from the previous excursion to examine his eye. There was a large cancerous growth within his brain, and the cause of that likely explained everything else. Joey had worked with radioactive materials. Too little was known about them until it was too late. In the end, he found nothing that explained their endless looping, and Joey, though he flinched at Henry’s approach the next few times, did not mention what had happened. 

Henry did not want to think about his organs, his dark, sweet blood.

Henry looked at the closed door for a moment, wondering if it all would reset anyways, that something was set up as a precaution against this, but nothing happened. He thought quietly of those in that strange world beyond the studio door; would he see them here? Part of him believed so, that those within the studio realm were caricatures, parodies, just as the studio itself was. Here, outside the front door, was a new world, full of possibility. 

Change. It was different, and that was enough to get drunk on, the wonderful sensation of being free. It was almost cold, this new space, wider and emptier, though he reasoned that he was smaller now, too, and that he would get used to it. Quietly, he slipped along, musing on a thought of if he could traverse through the pipes now as well, but he decided it would be smarter not to test that just yet. Freedom could make a guy stupid, he reasoned, and it would be wise to attempt to keep his body whole for now. 

Henry’s exploration became slow and cautious, unwilling to risk limb, if not life, to this strange new space he found himself traversing. He longed for a companion again, tired of thinking alone, but still bewildered and enthralled by all the new sights.

Now this, this looked like the studio he remembered, not the miniature facsimile that was attached to Joey’s apartment. He wondered on it as he wandered, flitting about from corridor to corridor. His smile felt more genuine as he joked to himself that the wine in the bars must be aged superbly, though now was not the time to drink. Now was the time to acquaint himself with the halls he had once been so proud of. 

He crept through the doorways, seeing those inky creatures that he had so frequently dispatched in the cycle, though his hands itched for an ax, he was well aware that he was smaller now, more nimble, and did not need to fight any longer; and that was a blessing. Henry slipped down halls, seeing those familiar to him and not, though none of them noticed him. There seemed to be a mounting tension these days, though a quiet peace. 

Henry knew exactly where he was going without realizing. 

He stood before the machine, silent though it was, a beast in slumber. He knew that this, or at least a replica, was what brought Joey down into the depths alongside him, though the agony would consume his mind and he would seek the desperate relief of death that the doctor so willingly gave to the desperate folk of the repeating hell. He wondered if their desire for release was only Joey’s, magnified in that space he created in a story, a video game. 

Henry reached for the chains of the machine, wondering how to power this one. It was slightly different than the one in the diorama, seemingly larger, though Henry was not certain that the size difference was not caused by his own diminutive form. It took a bit of time, but due to Joey’s blueprints and his own time spent examining the machine, both in the archives and not, he managed to figure it out and got it a’rumbling. Henry watched with fascination, as usually he was never around for the ink demon’s- or rather, Joey’s- appearance, and realized quickly why that was. The sound of breaking bones and cutting flesh wormed into his head, quiet moans of agony and fracturing limbs as the man was forced, in all the pain of the altered form, out from the spigot of the machine. 

Joey looked different than he did within the other, smaller studio, but Henry thought that was to be expected as he quickly made his way to the other’s side. Joey shook and heaved, the form of the Ink Demon trying to overtake his mind as it did with his flesh, as it did inside of the cycle. 

Henry placed a hand gently on his back, and for once, it did not hurt. He continued the comforting touches along the man’s back, heaving with pain and confusion, curled up tightly on the floor. 

Henry was vaguely aware of an alarm blaring somewhere in the distance. 

‘Come on, Jo’, he signed urgently, shaking his shoulder. ‘We can go somewhere safe. Comfortable’.

The ink demon whined, but Henry knew he was looking at him from the corner of his functional eye. The other was covered with that oily gunk, though Henry knew pushing it away would only reveal decaying flesh and a rotten socket, something he did not wish to pain Joey with further. 

Carefully, Joey extended himself, and Henry would have been lying if he tried to attribute his size due to Henry’s own lessened height. A pang of sympathy ran through him; no wonder it had hurt him so badly to be made anew through the machine. Still, he knelt down to Henry’s nearly perfect form, his smile showing slightly, nervous as his claws (longer and sharper) touched the other.

No pain came from that motion, something that made them both relax. 

Neither could speak, however, but that was just fine. Henry took Joey’s hand, and the lanky demon wrapped his fingers gently around Henry’s palm. He carefully led Johan onwards, though a shadow accompanied by muttered curses made him backtrack. Henry and Joey shirked back into the shadows themselves, watching a strange man Henry did not quite recognize come along and inspect the machine. Joey stiffened next to Henry, cowering behind him comically. 

“Damn machine,” the newcomer grumbled, running his fingers along the inky residue. “Who started you up, I wonder? Those poor souls down in the depths aren’t going to be happy now, are they?” 

“Um, hello?” a woman’s voice said, her voice… Henry knew her voice, but from where, he could not tell. It was familiar, the comfort of that overlapped by the horror of the unknown. “Who- who are you?”

“Ah, Audrey,” the man commented, turning around. “You didn’t happen to start the machine, did you?”

“What? No, that’s Gent- oh, you must be Wilson,” Audrey stammered, forcing a smile. Joey and Henry retreated another step back. Best not to be seen in these forms. “The Gent rep.”

“That I am,” Wilson coldly replied, stepping towards her. She stepped back. “So, Miss Audrey, did you happen to see anyone coming in? I know your office is near the entrance.”

“No, I haven’t,” she easily responded, slowly and riddled with confusion. Wilson’s forced smile was discomforting to them all, and Henry could tell that Joey was especially upset by his presence, though why, he did not know, and Joey had yet had a chance to explain himself. “Why? Doesn’t that just make the ink for the artists?” 

“Yes, and no,” Wilson helpfully answered, explaining nothing. “Are you sure you didn’t touch it?” 

“No, why would I?” Audrey, offended, crossed her arms, glaring down at the mechanic. “I just heard something coming from over here, and I found you.” 

“Really? Is that all?” Wilson seemed like he hardly believed her, and Joey nearly broke cover when the man grabbed her arm. Henry tried to hold him back, but Joey was always much bigger than him- and now, he was much much bigger. “Why do I think that you know something you’re not telling me?!” 

“I think you’re paranoid!” Audrey gasped, trying to wrench her arm free, but Wilson held on tight. Joey growled in the back of his throat, watching the scene play out unhappily. “Let go of me, you old creep!” 

“I think you need to pay for what you’ve done!” Wilson spat, shaking her, making her trip. She tried to kick him, but he only used that to disbalance her. “Listen… do you hear that? The machine is hungry.” 

“What’s wrong with you!?” Audrey demanded as she strained to escape. The corpse like man was much stronger than he appeared, Henry thought uncomfortably. However, Joey had enough, bounding forwards with a soft and short roar of his displeasure. Audrey screamed, horrified. “Holy hell, what is that?!”

“Oh, so someone did let you out of your little cage,” Wilson remarked smilingly. “How very interesting.”

Joey growled, unable to form words with his misshapen and welded mouth, stalking forwards. 

“Oh? You want her?” Wilson mockingly asked, seeing how the Ink Demon prowled towards them. “Well, go get her!” 

Audrey shrieked as he threw her, literally threw her, into the machine. Henry watched with horror and Joey froze, Wilson pulling the lever even as Audrey banged on the metal, pleading to be let out. 

“It’s only been two hundred and eleven days, and you’re already causing problems again,” Wilson sneered to Joey as the sounds within the machine died down almost instantaneously. He pulled from his belt something sparking, and both Joey and Henry needed no explanation as to what it was. “Just stay right… there….”

Joey tore a chain holding the machine up, and bolted as it fell. Henry followed in the shadows, unseen. 

Wilson’s deranged laughter at the demon's retreat mixed with his howls of indignant rage, and Henry was not sure which he liked less.

Still, the change of scenery was nice. 

[naffeclipse]

Paper Burn

Animator!Reader x Ink Form!Sun and Moon

Commission Info

I'm not normal about @pure-plum requesting a little hurt/comfort moment from my BATDR DCA AU called The Jester and the Tagalong! I also have to thank Plum immensely for teaching me about animating and what a character like the reader in this instance would do with their work! It was a great help and made the fic so much better for it! Enjoy an inky world that you and the jester are determined to endure <3

Content Warning for self-neglect, pain, and angst.

———

Your inky hands twitch after you jot a number down in the corner of the animation page. A cramp shoots a spasm of pain through your drawing hand and you’re forced to lay down your pencil, then catch it again before it can roll off the uneven table—the muscles at the base of your thumb ache. Sucking a breath between your teeth, you slide the pencil into the front pocket of your jumper.

It’s not enough. The sprawling stack of thin paper lies empty and the few pages you dare to spare for a rushed storyboard are almost crumpled in your offhand. You force your fingers to unfurl and slowly, methodically, fold the storyboards into your front jumper pocket. At least you can take a moment to flip what you do have. Inwardly, you cringe at the inconsistencies you’re sure to find among the pages, spurred on by attacks and sudden escapes to another workstation.

This is the roughest you’ve ever done storyboards and animating with pencils. You have no x-sheet, no light disk, and no peg bar. Inking will be an entirely different hill to climb, but you’ve done it before. Ink the lines and paint the colors, and then you’ll need to find cels. This is stepping farther and farther out of your realm of skills, but the robotic jester promises you that you both will find a way.

Desperation and urgency drip into you until panic overflows into your veins. Just the same, weariness fills your bones after animating for the better half of a day—if such a place as this possesses hours and minutes. The sepia and shadowy colors of Fazbear Studios stain every wall and crevice. You’ve memorized the routes through the sprawling building, each department a massive expansion to work and craft a proper cartoon.

There’s another part of this world you and the robotic jester avoid as much as possible. The Mega Pizzaplex. A living realm for the inky form of cartoon characters to stalk through, beings which you vaguely recall, mostly in keynote frames and final animation sequences.

No place is safe. Only safer. 

A heavy pounding steadily expands behind your eyes as taut muscles in your neck protest the improper angle at which you work. Moon had found an animator’s desk for you to work at, but the inky monsters that sprawl over every inch of this world with gaping, multiple mouths sliding around their glutinous forms, and violet, piercing eyes with vague shadows of bunny ears destroyed it.

This table shoved into a far, forgotten corner of the studio with cobwebs and spilled ink is as precious as each animation paper you’ve collected in runs for supplies. You need it. You need it as much as you and him need your happy ending.

Exhaustion creeps up your back. You close your eyes, rubbing along your temple once to coax away the pain. You cannot stop. There is no luxury for a break. You aren’t certain when more dark, tacky creatures will spill into your hiding hole and sweep away all your hard work in one breath. Worse yet, you must be vigilant for Vanny and Inktrap. 

The former is a dark disciple of the rabbit demon, and she works tirelessly to hunt you and the robotic jester down with the intent to offer sacrifices to Inktrap. The dreaded being also prowls the halls in search of you and your companion. 

Nothing terrifies you more than hiding, caught tight in Sun’s arms as he presses you deeper against the shadows of a wall, shielding your body with his as you both hold your breath. The trembling presence of Inktrap stalking near. You fear if he can’t hear your breath, he will sense the drum-like beat of your heart. 

But he has yet to catch you and the jester. Both of you will get out of here. The cycle will end.

There will be a happy ending for you both.

Don’t stop, you tell yourself. Keep going. Staring down at the current page, there are three figures scribbled in pencil. Two men and what you think—hope is you. The two men are vague recollections from your dreams, possibly memories. One wears a flat cap hat and the other has wild, unruly hair. You press your tongue to the inside of your teeth, overwhelmed by the many more frames you must capture of their figures. It has to be right. You straddle the line between quality and speed, and you just might fail both.

You want to remember more. Vague visions touch you as if you walked through strings of spider webs, invisible, but there, ghosting over your skin. You can feel it, but you can’t find it.

Tears threatening to push past your eyelashes. No. You swallow down the tightening in your throat and slide your pencil out of your pocket.

The first few lines are smooth, practiced, and settled into your muscle memory, but then the cramp returns with a vengeance. You bite your bottom lip and keep drawing. Another line. Pain spasming through muscle, turning to wobbling waves. Your hand closes in the ache. The pencil almost falls from your fingers.

A creak of hinges announces the door opening to your hideyhole. Your head snaps to the entrance. A tall shadow falls inside. Your hands immediately fly to the stack of animating paper, prepared to stuff them into your jumper and then free the gent pipe from where it hooks onto your waist, but the shadow becomes a sharp-tooth grin. Half dripping in black and stained in sepia, Sun strides into the room. He swiftly swings the door shut without taking his glowing yellow eyes off of you.

“There you are, calico," he says as if he didn’t leave you with strict instructions to remain here until he returns. The sound of his voice calms your nerves. His cords are familiar and strong. He possesses such life and heart to his tenor, and you’ve found he can only manage a stage whisper when he desires to be quiet while speaking. You like that. You like a lot about him.

Sun. One half of the robotic jester who stays by your side, surviving with you.

“Hi, Sunny.” You slowly sink back onto the stool which is a touch too high to sit properly with the table you’re bent over. Setting the stack of animating paper back down, you regard him with a smile that takes far too much energy to summon than you like. “Did you find anything?”

He strides inside, moving one crook of his arm and shifting whatever was stuck underneath his armpit into his two clawed hands. The ink of his mouth is dark and lined with sharp incisors curved into a constant grin. Half of his face drips dark ink. His long, lithe body reaches you in moments.

“Yes, and you won’t believe what I have for you,” he grins, bolstered, even in the depths of this sepia-colored purgatory. “I present dinner!”

Your mouth gapes open at the box, realizing the markings upon it are designated for such an entree. When he lifts the lid, you never thought the constant yellow-ting and black colors would ever look appetizing on food, but the full diameter of the pizza, uncrushed and toppings spared of smearing, triggers salivation to flood your mouth.

“Oh my goodness.” You want to touch it, to hold a slice in your hand, but a cramp returns, and your fingers cringe. Sun’s eyes dart sharply to the motion. Quickly, you lower your hand, “Can you feed me while I work? I don’t want to get grease on the papers.”

Sun’s eyes shift, narrowing before he closes the pizza box and carefully sets it on the table, away from your supplies.

“I have a better idea,” he says cheerfully. He takes your wrist and slips his other arm around you, sliding you gently off of the stool and onto your feet.

“Sun, I can eat and work,” you protest. Vague recollections float in the back of your mind through a fog of memories of late hours and coffee cups. Crunch time. “What are you doing?”

“Come here, sweetheart.” He eases you further away from the table. The room is long and narrow, but there’s enough light from overhead to cast your shadow alongside Sun’s. “You’ve been working really hard and we admire your dedication to the perfect sequence, but you need a break.”

“No, there’s no time.” You try to tug on your wrist but he doesn’t budge. 

You watch as Sun takes you by the hand. Gently, he spreads open your fingers as you try to hide the slight ache in the movement. He sets his yellow digit into your palm and begins massaging the pinched muscle. Your eyelids flutter underneath the sweet, almost painful relief from the cramp.

“We will make time,” he declares robustly. His gaze falls over you, softly glowing. “You’re going to save us. The least I’m going to do is take care of you before you run yourself into the ground.”

His fingers begin working over the rest of your drawing hand. His metallic fingertips knead gently into your inky skin, caressing softly over your joints and along the bones of your wrist. The ache calms under the gentle workings of the jester.

Though you long to stay very still and soak it in, you can’t.

“Sunny,” you protest softly. “Please. Let me do this.”

“After some rest,” he says gently but firmly. He boops your nose and then twirls his finger. “Turn around for me, calico. There, that’s it.”

He guides you by the shoulders, softly turning you in place. You do so reluctantly, and with your back to the jester, your eyes fall upon the pages and pages of animation you must fulfill. You must make it perfect. You must make it soon. Your breath picks up in the slightest, anxious, before Sun’s large hands fall upon your shoulders. 

The tension in your neck compounds until the pads of his thumbs, careful with his claws, begin digging into the taut cords of muscle bunching along the top of your spine. A soft groan leaves your lips against your will. 

“Sounds like I found a tender spot,” Sun chuckles softly, but there’s an edge of concern cutting underneath his tone. “We should have made you stop a few hours ago.”

“I’m fine,” you swear but it comes out tired. You would have lost so much time and there’s no telling when another wave of monsters will slip under the door and attack with yellow fangs and inky claws. Even now, you worry about precious seconds. You can lose all your progress in the blink of an eye. Sun and Moon would have to wait even longer for their happy ending. 

But Sun continues unraveling your soreness with rhythmic presses and releases, up and down your neck and over your shoulders. Gently, he turns you back to face him. Your heart beats heavy within you as he takes your hand.

“Sweetheart, if you burn yourself out, you won’t be able to animate, and you won’t be able to make our happy ending.” He lifts one hand to cup your chin. Lifting your head slightly to study you, his glowing eyes miss nothing. He brushes a thumb along the bottom of your lip. You want to sink deeper into his palm until you no longer hold yourself up, but you have to resist. You have to keep going.

“Now, how about some pizza?” He asks in a way that’s not asking as he guides you to the floor. “Come sit on my lap.”

There’s little arguing when he’s made up his mind. You want to fight but the thought of working up all your energy to take on an uphill battle when you’re hungry and exhausted and even the pounding behind your eyes is begging for relief is too much. It’s as if the entire world is against you.

No, not Sun. Never him and Moon. They are always with you.

“You can feed me while I work,” you give but it comes out weakly as Sun’s long arm slides the box off of the table. Settling you into the comfortable fabric of his striped pants, he balances you on his legs and the pizza in the other hand.

“How about I feed you and let you rest?” His voice calmly darkness into something rumbling and sinister. The yellow glow within his gaze vanishes for a brief moment. 

“Sun,” you say softly, but watch him go.

Your heart used to clench at such a sight. A constant fear of being left here alone in the never-ending cycle has never quite fled from the depths of your core, but you’ve learned to wait as Sun’s face begins to bubble with thick inky blots. His entire face darkens like a new lunar cycle until out of the melting dark ink manifests a crescent moon face. His pants shift from stripes to stars, and his claws slip lower, wrapping around your hip to hook you in place. A nightcap sits on his head. The end of it drips with ink.

“Hi, Moon,” you say softly.

A low rasp, sinister and dramatically enchanted as if to be upon a stage, drops from the new jester. “Eat. Before the pizza gets cold.”

His voice might scare children, or maybe just enhance how villainous he could be, but to you, his voice is comforting. You feel safe.

“It’s already cold,” you point out. There is hardly any temperature in the food here. Everything edible has sat and turned stale long before either you or the jester can scoop them up for a meager meal later. You’d rather not think about the number of lukewarm Fizzy Fazs you’ve drunk.

Even the prize of a full, un-squished pizza is still little. All the more reason to escape the cycle.

You wonder if Sun and Moon like hot pizza.

Moon uses his thumb to flip open the box and reveal the greasy sliced food. Even at room temperature, the pizza makes your mouth water.

“It’s good for you,” he grumbles gently like you’re a naughty child. His grip on your hip holds tight as he sets the pizza down and tears off a slice. The cheese thickly tears and you spy glistening, wet sauce underneath. A treasure, truly, no matter how old.

Your heart, however, squeezes tight. Emotion cakes your throat and you try to find the right words.

“Moon,” you say, “Let me up. I need to keep animating.”

“No.” He holds up the slice. His head, sharp teeth grinning, dripping ink down faces you. “You will only work yourself to the bone, doll. Eat.”

You push his arm away but you feel the tension underneath his metallic limb, how he only falls back because he lets you push him, not because you truly have the strength to stop him. His eyes narrow further. You hold his gaze, bottom lip trembling.

“You and Sun protect me while I work. You get hurt. You risk your own lives. This is too important,” you whisper. You clench him tighter in your grasp. “I can’t stop until it’s done.”

Moon slowly lowers the pizza back into the box. His hand, slick with ink, cups your chin. You find your hands falling onto him, holding on as if you might fall. The pressure behind your eyes becomes explosive. The few wet drops upon your eyelashes turn everything blurry save for the piercing glow of his yellow eyes.

“Listen to me.” His voice lowers, intimate and sharp, all at once. “It is not more important than you. You are ours. You are what gets us through this. We won’t let you burn yourself out because you want to keep us safe.”

There’s something there, on the tip of Moon’s tongue. You wait for more but instead, he leans back slightly, as if he already said too much.

“We will take care of you,” he says instead.

“But,” your voice cracks, “but it’s not fair.”

“None of this is,” Moon’s voice softens. His thumb softly slips along your cheek and swipes away an inky tear. Even your weeping is stained by this world. “Please. Eat then rest, doll.”

Another protest is on your lips, but the sob filling your throat cuts it off. Moon caresses your cheek. Weakness overtakes you, the threat of becoming extinguished before you can finish all the pages. Before you can animate yours and his happy ending. 

You’re so scared and exhausted. It spills out of you in dark streaks that stain your sepia-colored cheeks until Moon wipes them away. He starts humming, softly, sweetly, and you lay your head on his shoulder. He pulls you closer until he cradles you in his arms. A hundred things long to fly from your lips. A promise that you’ll do it. You won’t let yourself fail, and the desire for reassurance. That it is okay to rest, just for a moment.

“It’s okay, doll.” Moon murmurs as you weep into his ruffled collar. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Oh, Moon,” you wail, and it sounds so pathetic. You are wasting time. Yet, you have no strength to pry yourself from his embrace—as if he would let you.

“Shush,” he murmurs and kisses your jet-dark, shiny hair. “Calm down. Breathe. When you’re ready, the pizza will be here.”

You hiccup once. You nod, still hiding against him like a child. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Will you sing me to sleep?” you ask, soft and breathy.

He pauses once. The tapered yet careful points of his claw stroke down your hair, and he breathes a heavy breath. You think he finds it hard to tell you no, at least when it concerns matters such as these.

“I’ll sing,” he decides, “After you eat.”

You nearly wince, but it’s only fair. Slowly, you straighten, still sitting in his lap. Pushing your hair away from your eyes, you nod. Moon gently catches the remaining tears staining your cheeks. A murmur falls from his constant smile that he doesn’t like to see you sad. You tell him the same. 

With a gentle hum, he picks up the pizza slice he left and holds it up to your mouth. You let him feed you, taking a bite and chewing slowly. Moon turns the slice to his sharp-tooth mouth and bites off a chunk. In his harmonic quiet, the two of you slowly eat through the pizza, your energy returning and your mind softening with the comfort of a full belly. 

It’s the best pizza you’ve had in the cycle.

His fingertips slowly work against your hip, rubbing the bone softly through your jumper. Before you can consider asking him to let you return to work, your eyelids grow heavy. Moon’s voice lifts to a gentle bass.

He sings you to sleep.

[inkdemonapologist]

What are your thoughts on joeys character in batdr and his redemption? If you ask me I like what they did with him. They gave him redemption without excusing some of the bad stuff he did. And I think memory joey could grow to be somewhat of his own character. But the redemption isn’t perfect though. Even though I said the it didn’t excuse some of the stuff he did it felt like they swept the bad stuff under the rug. But who knows. Maybe they’ll fix this in future.

But enough about what I think, what don you think?

I’ve talked about this before – the TL;DR of that post is that I think this is, conceptually, a promising way to portray Joey moving forward to be better for someone new, but in actual execution it fails to do that.

TBH I’d love to stop categorising this as “redemption”… I've grown to dislike this framing, debating whether it’s a Good Redemption or a Bad Redemption or whether Joey is Really Redeemed or Not, because it assumes that Redemption™ is even what’s happening in this story. BatDR is a story where we’re given reason to believe that Joey may have had a change of heart. That’s it! We can question and analyse his supposed change of heart, but it doesn’t have to REDEEM HIM to be real, and I think measuring things on the scale of REDEEMED VS NOT REDEEMED is not only gliding over some pretty complex ideas of What Does Redeemed Mean In The Context Of Fiction (it is the sort of concept that it is so, so easy for people to have vastly different unspoken definitions for, making discussions of “he was redeemed” “no he wasn’t” especially futile), but also not really useful here.

For one thing, this isn’t a story about Joey's change of heart. Tbh, he barely features – Memory Joey can have a change of heart and work to be better if you believe/headcanon that he has OG Joey’s attitude, worldview, and personality flaws (which I do), but he has no crimes to acknowledge or repent for other than MAYBE reluctance to get involved. You might as well ask a person to repent for the crimes of their kins!! We hear about the choices original Joey made, and we can judge those choices postmortem, but he’s not here to redeem himself through this story; he’s dead.

As to the actual spirit of your question: The big thing. The really really big thing. Is that the CYCLE IS STILL GOING. It’s still going and it’s still bad and everyone in it is still miserable!! He didn’t fix that!!! The only evidence we have of ANY attempt to make it nicer in there is that he added Allison Angel, which like, “i’ve created a new life to keep you company in the torture dimension, so it’s less bad” is NOT ACTUALLY BETTER.

It’s important because it’s the only thing Joey could still try to do. He clearly doesn’t have any money to give restitution to his victims or their families, and I’m not gonna be a cop about demanding that he return the ink machine to the corporation that’s even more evil than he was. There’s not a lot of tangible steps he could take to perform penance for what he’s done, beyond fessing up publicly to his crimes and turning himself in and definitely going to jail, and like, maybe that would be a good thing for him to do, but if we’re going to hold Joey to that standard we really should be making the same demands of, say, Thomas Connor, or Sammy Lawrence in every Escape AU.

He can’t go back and un-ruin the lives he ruined years ago. But he didn’t do anything about the cycle, and that’s something that’s still happening NOW.

That was his responsibility, sapient life that he created to suffer and should have felt a huge obligation to – yet, we have no evidence that Joey was like, trying to fix it (in fact, he seemed PRETTY FOCUSED on spending his limited time creating and then raising Audrey), so every assertion that he was a changed man falls a bit flat, because being a sweet, loving person to your family and friends while running an endlessly looping torture dimension in your basement is actually quite sinister! Even Memory Joey asserts that the only reason he can’t fix the cycle now is because he’s not really the OG Joey who made it – does that mean the OG Joey could? Audrey says she wants to make the cycle kinder; could Joey have done that? Why didn’t he? We know from Allison's appearance in the original BatIM that the hellish experience of the first game IS the version that came from Joey’s change of heart, and it’s not great for literally anyone!!

Joey was a better person to Audrey, his daughter, and I do believe he genuinely loved her. If it were just that, it would be pretty good – Joey disappears from public life and stops obsessing over Bendy and instead of barging into his past victims’ lives to demand forgiveness, he just wants to be a better man and a good father to this daughter he created. That’s a compelling story, and I think it’s probably the best direction that “Joey wants to be better” could go. But once we realise he was actively ignoring suffering that he both caused and was responsible for fixing, it’s hard to take that love in good faith anymore. Joey being good exclusively to people that he likes who are doing what he wants isn’t anything new; Joey’s delight in The One Who Came Out Right feels less like a change of heart when we see Memory Joey echo his complete lack of sympathy for The One Who Came Out Wrong.

The reason it feels like Joey’s wrongdoing was glossed over isn’t because Joey needed to record an audiolog saying “I acknowledge that my actions were without excuse, and I’m deeply sorry for the harm I’ve caused” or whatever… it’s because there was something he could’ve changed, or could’ve at least TRIED to change, and he didn’t do it -- and it feels like we, the audience, were not supposed to notice that, because the story didn’t notice, either. It'd be possible to address it; like, what if Joey's change of heart instead involved him trying to fix things for the people in the cycle, and Audrey was created accidentally in that process -- then his love for Audrey would also be a picture of how far he'd come, taking responsibility for this person he'd brought into being and seeing her as a beloved daughter instead of a mistake. Or even just an audiolog where Joey says some kind of “oh god I can’t end it, it’s just going to repeat forever, what have i done, what can i do,” and it might actually feel possible to believe in his change of heart, to believe that he really tried as hard as he could and just never succeeded. But this huge thing is barely acknowledged. It's fine. He put Allison in there, so now it's fine! Don't dwell on the past!!

Anyway, like I said in my first post, if all this were intentional, I would LOVE it, conceptually. The idea of Joey Drew being a good father to Audrey who really genuinely loved her, but also was not actually a better person in a lot of ways, was still the same guy who was uncomfortable with guilt and glossed over his wrongdoing in order to prematurely Move On from the things that made him feel like a failure and focus on the relationship with his daughter that made him feel like a success, is a compelling, difficult character! The way so many people fell in love with Memory Joey just seems like, how everyone in original Joey’s life must’ve felt about him, the way they all kept believing in him despite everything, the way they wanted so badly to believe him. Impose this lens upon the whole game, and it all fits in. But since there’s no sign it’s intentional – and, with the archive, actually some signs that it wasn’t – it sort of sits weirdly. Memory Joey isn’t framed as an unreliable narrator. The tone of his final scene clearly isn’t MEANT to be dissonant.

---

So, uh, that’s what I think. I think the concept of Joey having a genuine change of heart and being better for his daughter could be good; I think the concept of Joey presenting himself as a changed man when really he is Just The Same, He Just Likes You This Time, could also be good. But he was handled clumsily enough that I think we didn’t quite get either thing, and, as usual, you have to fill in the blanks with headcanons and inferences to get one of these stories -- so which story you get kinda depends on which way you decide to interpret everything. Nothing tells us for sure that Joey didn't try his hardest to fix everything, so if you want that story, you can simply headcanon that he tried his hardest. But my personal preference is definitely for the reading where Joey believes himself a changed man because he really does love his daughter, and that's genuinely sweet!! but he remained the same man he always was, dodging guilt and responsibility in favour of a narrative that made him feel good about himself. I'm still quite proud of the frustrated little indictment Memory Joey gives him in that one creationship comic I made:

[bendyandtoonsaventure]

I’m so sorry if this is rude, but what is the storyline? Like what’s happening in the au?

-♠️

Since I've been following the original story and that of Inky Mistery, I've always liked to imagine what the ending would have been like.

So, this is just my imagination:

When the team searches for the machine they find the anomaly that is the machine, another world, a place where anything is possible, time does not exist, an endless loop. Inside the machine they discover a story that has Bendy as its god.

Inside the machine, there is a Bendy, a Bendy of pure ink, the other half, the reason why Bendy and the ink seem to be in harmony, being half of the demon they should be, a guardian created by the machine itself for its protection. They will have to fight and survive, gaining allies or enemies but above all, escaping from the Ink Demon who tries to merge with Bendy to be complete.

Then the team must decide whether to let Bendy be part of the machine's cycle or get him out and find another way to save everyone.

Taking inspiration from Batim and Batdr, a world where the lost are the people who succumbed to the ink disease, that's why Bendy's shadows are different and full of emotions, they are remains of the ink of past years hidden and confused by the darkness.

It may not make much sense when I tell it but I like to think that it is a theory of what it would be like to find the machine, and what would have to happen if the machine really had its own flow of events like the first piece (the cog).

[sky-lia]

What is BATIM Inkmancy AU all about and how is it different from Deus Ex Machina?

Oh boy I'm glad you're asking the question !

As a reminder, Deus Ex Machina is not longer a BATIM AU, it's an original steampunkish story now, at least for me.

So when my BATIM phase came back while I was de-batim-fying Deus Ex Machina, I needed to create another BATIM AU so I created Inkmancy AU. Fun fact, I drew this before BATDR release and didn't get the occasion to post. So, now it is !

Inkmancy AU will be more accurate to BATIM aesthetic like the yellow shades and it'll be more oriented towards toon horrors and occultism.

Also, I made this to differenciate the main character, with Pyrop who is not a Henry anymore X)

For more details and rambling about the differences between Inkmancy AU and Deus Ex Machina, click "view more"

To differentiate Deus Ex Machina and Inkmancy AU, here the main points (sorry in advance, Im not a good writer but I'll try hsdfhz):

Deus Ex Machina is not a BATIM AU, it happens in a steampunk universe (might also be gaslamp fantasy), to summarize the concept :

"Pyrop", an enigmatic mechanical engineer, decided to come back in a ghost town to resolve mysteries about strange events linked to the disaperance of his long lost friend "Cobalt". Supernatural machines, diseased automatons and unknown creaturish people... Pyrop will have to rise up for the trials he'll face.

Of course there will be some inevitable things that will remind BATIM, but yeah, I'll try to make Deus Ex Machina distinguable.

-----------

Inkmancy AU is a BATIM AU, but also BATDR AU. In this AU, I'll throw and make it fit so many ideas I wished we had in BATIM and BATDR (example : like Bill danton, new monsters, inkmancy system, re-designed known characters, more sammy who don't get killed in 5 secondes...). I don't have a whole timeline yet... I'm still thinking for some ideas but I won't tell because I don't wanna give fase hopes in case i can't make those jvgdhgz. To summarize :

After long years, Hendrick comes back to the old animator workshop like his old friend Joey asked in his letter. A simple visit into this place will turn into a descent to an inky nightmare. Down here... , the cartonish monsters, many crazy occult people, ghosts and demons of his past will torment him. Eldritch horrors beyond your comprehension ! He'll have to solve the riddle of the Ink Machine to survive and to escape.

For now Hendrick is the main character, but Audrey will probably another main character too. But i'll see...

[ask-aftermathau]

Hello! As the desc says, this will be an ask blog for Sammy and Jack with my Aftermath Batim/Batdr AU. Feel free to ask these two anything, though separate character questions are also accepted.

(AU desc under cut)

AU Context:

After escaping the time loop of the ink machine, the former employees (or the ones that could get out, anyways) moved into Henry and Linda’s house. Everyone’s… Semi-intact? They’re healing.

[just-bendy]

Changes to the blog

Since it is a new year, I will take this opportunity to make some changes to the blog! It will be small changes but it will affect the blog in some way. I have a lot I want to do for this blog but I have really low motivation and energy to do anything too exciting. I would like to introduce Sammy, new characters, maybe some other clones, just something related to the AU. I still have to work on these though... I'll try, but don't get your hopes up. 😅 I have added two new rules as well, number 3 and 8, so be sure to check them out!

Anyway, happy new year! Hope this year is good to you! 🎉🎉💜

Here's the list of changes I will be doing! This will include some retcons:

Less of the ink demon form- Bendy was not supposed to be transforming into his ink demon form so much from the start so I will put a hold on the inky boi. realistically he wouldn't enjoy turning into that guy at all so i'll be implementing that. he won't be turning into his ink beast form at all

More survivors from the studio- Bendy, Boris, Alice, Barry, Henry, and Sammy won't be the only survivors that escaped from the studio anymore. i wanna make more clones- more Alice clones and Boris clones that escaped and also the employees that turned into ink people. the Butcher Gang all got messed up so maybe i'll have to design some "reformed" ones? or a set of lucky ones, idk. as for the Bendy clones, I'm not sure. I would like to make some that came back to life but i have trouble fitting them in. i do have room for One though

(dumb) Santa is real- i said before that santa isnt real in this universe but i'm changing it. santa claus is real and he is a toon. i forgot that was a possibility. not sure if it matters tho

Less fourth wall breaking- i know its a toon thing to break the fourth wall but id like for his reactions to things to be more genuine. for example if someone asked him about Audrey from BATDR, he would realistically not know who she is, but if he broke the fourth wall then he would know about her without ever meeting her. it just feels weird to me. so no more fourth wall breaks, at least nothing past the whole ask blog concept

No more kissing- no more kissing the lil demon

Ask box closed on Sundays- the ask box will be closed on sundays so i can rest. i also wont be working on any asks on sundays nor will anything be posted

[candy-ac3]

saw Spider-man: across the spider-verse this past weakened, so expect some fanart of that! Also made an au of batim/batdr for it where Henry almost got turned into a Edgar clone but was able to escape just before he started to become a toon but still taking in a good amount of toon/spider abilities. I'll post more about him latter when I have more of his art and story made!

[that-one-cat-meow]

No matter if you want it or not, here you have a backstory from BATCM

Bcs... this AU wasn't on my blog very long time

But whatever

I tell you about the backstory of Ink Demon bcs... why not?

So

The story starts in real world. Not in studio, in real world. Sea, Ink Demon's father, was cheating on his partner, Silver. He had a kitten with his other lover, Fang (that was the Ink Demon). When Silver found out Sea was cheating on her, she yell at him, Sea went away, and Fang stay with Silver.

She wasn't a good mother for him. She mostly cares about her own kits. But Fang didn't mind. He found a farm with other she-cat that was named Blacky and go there for food or if he want to talk.

But one day Blacky, as an old cat, dies. So Fang went away from his "familly". He know something about hunting from Blackie. When he was in forest and hunt his first mouse, the mouse attack him, leaving a scar on his eye. He walk through the forest until he find a group of cats - Snow, Lake, Daisy, Sand and Storm. The cats show him the town, then how to find food and leave him alone.

But Daisy was still looking for him if he feels good. So they became friends. After week, she and Fang walk to the end of town. Daisy told him about her past, then walk with him to mountains.

When they almost got there, Fang and Daisy was attacked by two cats. Rock fall on Daisy tail and she lose it, so Fang get angry and told her he will make the two cats pay for what they did. And when Daisy was asleep, Fang find the cats, make them run after him... right to the house with two big dogs. And watched the dogs killing the two cats, not even trying to stop it or telling himself he make this revenge little too brutal.

Passing a bit through the story, two cats had a familly that start to run after them. In the forest Fang tell Daisy he love her, then hide her in the cave and start to run himself from the cats group. He try to hide in the studio, but a cat named Melody catch him right after he enter the studio and kill him

No, it's not the end of this story!!

Fangs soul get trapped in the studio. He never belong to it, so the cats living in Forest of Souls can't do anything to him and he can be in Forest of Souls and explore the studio. One day, he finded a cat trapped in room by his creator. His name was Bendy. Fang was learning him to fight, then Bendy get free from the room and went to kill his creator.

Suprise, Fang found Bendy dead in Forest of Souls. Bendy was running away from the cats that want to make him a real soul, so Fang help him get to nice Lost Souls that treat him like king. But Bendy then find Fang and ask for help to get to the Sky Hole - the portal that can take him back to the studio.

When Fang and Bendy get there, Fang said Bendy had to pay for his help, then jump on him, grab his paw and went through the Sky Hole together, making Fang enter Bendy body, but looking a bit different. The cats in studio was scared of him and call him Ink Demon, and when he heard about it, he likes it and decide this is his name now.

After some time, he got his followers and create a Kingdom of Darkness.

Then Henry get back to the studio and there was Big War

After years, Wilson, the cat that want to take control over the studio, lock the Ink Demon and torture him, to make him said Wilson is now king of Kingdom of Darkness. But no matter what, Ink Demon didn't do that. Also, when tortured, Bendy get separated from him and now have his own body after making deal with Jikan.

Audrey came to studio

One night, Alpha, one of Ink Demon best warriors, help him escape. He then was Ink Demon from BATDR (he didn't change much, he just got less fur, was taller and got lot of scars. And lose one his ear).

Then was another Big War, blah blah blah...

And... I think there is where story ends :I

Audrey take Bendy, cycle continues...

So... write to me what you want to hear about next and... if you acctually want to. This can be about characters, kingdoms, or things like Big War... You can also send asks

Okay bye

I will take a bath now-

[fancybendyboi]

//c: haven't posted in a hot minute because of work but hello I bring you baby in pain

It's a wip of something I'm working on but this showcases the scarring that Nathan has occurred because of Sin- the white limbs are..

Where parts have come back because of ink

(Ignore that he is gray I didn't feel like coloring it beside the eye)

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Yes

Okay so:

Feed the Ink or it'll Free Everyone (Basically a post escape AU where the themes are change for better and worse as well reflecting on past selves)'s Sammy has ups and downs that lead to him rebuilding himself and separating himself from the ink, but his attempts are... well, they worked but he really fucked himself over and up mentally and how his new body functions does not help.

-His 'hair' is dark brown in color.

-Past floor-length while loose, roughly knee-length while braided.

-Typically braided unless he's washing it or letting it loose during bedtime.

-Looks like normal hair of a regular texture, but feels gummy to the touch.

-Acts as a third arm while braided but doesn't move while loose.

-Instantly grows back if cut, but cutting it is very painful and distressing for him.

-Smells strongly of bleach and faintly of meat.

-He dislikes having his hair played with.

-The reason why it moves is because it's not actually hair, it's very very thin stands of flesh that resemble hair.

Meanwhile, in stark contrast to FIFE!Sam trying to distance himself from his god, A Secret Leak (post escape AU that kicks off because BATDR happened)'s Sammy double-triples down on the prophet and occult shenanigans and his 'human' form reflects that, but we're not talking about his humanity or uncanny valley-ity, we're talking about hair that moves and that its host can control to an extent.

-His 'hair' is pitch black in color.

-Knee length when loose, appears Mid-back length while tied up. (Mild toon logic is at play here)

-Is kept in a ponytail that uses his hair to tie itself up instead of a real hair tie while out and about and loose when at home.

-Looks like regular hair, is surprisingly soft and fluffy when tied up, but feels sharp, stringy, and slightly damp to the touch when loose.

-Benignly moves and acts with a mind of its own when he's not actively moving it himself, however it will reflect his emotions with its movement whether he wants it to or not. It doesn't move (for the most part) while tied up.

-Unable to be cut. Many pairs of scissors and some other sharp objects were damaged in the attempts to cut it.

-Smells strongly of ink and slightly of old paper.

-He doesn't mind if people play with it, 'musical hair' is a very unusual novelty of a blessing after all.

-The reason why it moves is because it's actually a (very large) collection of various instrument strings that are soaked in the prophet's cursed ink and have been used in a ritual. He has no recollection of making it himself and claims it's a blessing from his lord.

Lastly, 13 toons countless ghost stories (AU where Henry gets perfect toons and lives with them in a mansion built by ghosts)'s Sammy is *not* a physical entity but instead a restless spirit driven mostly by spite and an unsatable thirst for vengeance. While he does have calm/lucid moments, they're few and far between.

-His hair is transparent and dark brown.

-Ankle length, does not get tied up at all.

-Stays loose, but often gets tangled into knots. And sometimes, things are found in the knots; bullet casings, teeth that don't belong to human beings, clots of dried blood, small severed body parts, crumpled up music sheets, an ax, etc.

-Looks like hair texture-wise, when he's lucid/calm, his hair feels like you're sticking your hands into a bowl of ice water, and when he's mad it feels like submerging your hands in boiling oil.

-Moves like hair that's submerged underwater when he's calm, but when he sees someone who *might* be his murderer, it writhes and the locks move like extra arms, one of them swings the ax around like crazy while the others either reach for new weapons or attempt to strangle the 'murderer'.

-People need special ghost-proof scissors to cut it and it is very hard to cut the hair of a fury-driven ghost who's convinced you're trying to exorcise him.

-Doesn't have a smell.

-Hair is very rarely played with on account of being attached to a ghost who tries to kill everything that moves 90% of the time. During the other 10%, he's either zoning out or too focused on other things to mention whoever's playing with his hair, so it's hard to tell if he likes it or not.

-The reason why it moves is because it's made of the same stuff as the rest of his ghostly body, and that ghostly body assumes that one of the ways it died involved drowning, hence the watery movement of the hair.

[nrrrdgrrrl2002]

Eh.

Fiona and cake got me in a what if mood

I decided to do my own take on a batdr role swap au

I decided to only swap the ink siblings,

Making the ink demon and lil bendy the “human” protagonists and Audrey the monstrous antagonist.

So in this au:

The ink demon -> Isaac

Lil bendy -> Benjamin or “lil Benny” as he’s often called

Audrey -> Queen Amok

So in this au, Isaac actually did start life like he did in canon, as a failed bendy that was rejected and banished away to the ink realm by Joey.

The big change?

Henry, instead of being afraid of the ink demon like canon, he had compassion for the creature.

To the point he managed to get the ink demon out of the ink realm, but he himself stayed trapped.

This act of compassion really changed inkys life. Inky greatly internalized this and he wanted to find a way to get the people of the ink realm out.

He eventually got captured by Gent. And during his imprisonment, he found something quite surprising.

A perfect bendy. But one who was also clearly a child. A very frightened child as Gent had been doing horrendous things to the lil guy.

As he escaped, he decided to take the lil bendy under his wing.

He then discovered a way for the two to become human passing, but it would erase their memories.

He decided to go through with it to give lil bendy a chance at a good life.

Thus, the two became Isaac and Benny, an older brother caring for his younger brother as he worked as an animator at archgate studios.

Meanwhile, Joey was furious to find that the ink demon escaped the ink realm.

Fearful this may happen again, he decided he’d create an ink creature that could prevent any and all from leaving the ink realm.

After many, many tries, he succeeded. He decided not to give the creature a name, simply calling her his “good lil guard dog”

The people of the ink realm did come up with a name for this young but fierce creature.

The feared Queen Amok.

Joey ensured that Amok would continue doing her job without question. Either with showering her with praise and little toys for gifts, or disappointment if she dared to question him.

After all, her purpose was to be daddy’s little guard dog, so she’d make sure to do as such to keep his praise.

Unfortunately, a man managed to enter and leave the realm without her knowing several times.

A man by the name of Wilson.

Joey had died at this point, but left a perfect recreation of himself to keep amok in check.

And he wasn’t happy when he found out about this.

Amok begged and pleaded to him to forgive her. She didn’t know this man was escaping. She’d make sure he wouldn’t anymore. She promised.

Joey decided he’d make sure she’d be able to keep that promise. By using the ink machine on her to force her body to evolve and mutate into something more monstrous.

Soon after all this, Isaac and Benny get thrown into the ink realm by Wilson and that’s where this story begins.

Maybe I’ll go over more later but that’s all for now, folks!