#yessiree thought about killing MYself...

[eleooooooo]

Cursed hell from discord

[kill-vonkarma-again]

started thinking abt this again (vd under cut)

VD: the same frame of detective badd, this time with a thought bubble above his head. the thought bubble has the clip of steve harvey from family feud saying, "yessiree, i thought about killing myself!" end VD.

[transgenderledyba]

Yessiree. Thought about killing myself!

[butchlifeguard]

'we regret to inform you you werent selected for hosa officer'

[VD: clip from family feud where steve harvey says "yessiree... thought about killing myself!" in a cheerful tone. an answer appears on the board. end VD.]

[caracoloco]

yessiree... thought about killing myself!

[likeadragonpirateyakuzainhawaii]

Steve Harvey voice yessiree thought about killing myself

[eeveecryptid]

※ BORDERLANDS: CL4P-TP EDITION

Various lines that Claptrap bots have said through Borderlands 1, Pre-Sequel and 2. feel free to change pronouns if needed. May include nsfw material. ( BL3 version here )

"Wow! You're not dead?" "Hey, check me out everybody! I'm dancin', I'm dancin'!" "Unce! Unce! Unce! Unce! Ooo, oh check me out. Unce! Unce! Unce! Unce! Oh, come on get down." "Yoo-hoooooooooo!" "I am the best robot. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am the best robot. Ooh, ooh, here we go!" "Hey! Over here! I'm over here!" "Still haven't found the Vault?" "I'm over here!” "Rrrrrgh...this isn't working!" "Unce! Unce! I think I lost the beat... but, Unce! Unce!" "Wanna hear a new dubstep song I wrote? Wub! Wub--"  "(name) asked me to tell you about a, uh, ‘little sumthin' sumthin'’ s/he needs done. You should ask him/her about it!" "Did you find the Vault yet?" "Sure is lonely around here." "Oh my God, I'm leaking! I think I'm leaking! Ahhhh, I'm leaking! There's oil everywhere!" "I can see through time..." "My servos... are seizing..." "I can see... the code." "I don't like this... this is making me nervous. Take a deep breath- I can't breathe! This is just a recording of someone breathing! It's not real! It's just making me more nervous!" "I'm detecting a motor unit malfunction... I can't move! I'm paralyzed with fear!" "Please don't shoot me, please don't shoot me, please don't shoot me!" "Turning off the optics... they can't see me..." "The traveler will protect me. The traveler will protect me." "Good as new, I think. Am I leaking?" "The box is awaiting your attention." "Please open the box." "Yeah? Well, hmph!" [ gives the finger ] "Good luck!" "There's more to learn!" "Let me teach you the ways of magic!” "Magic waits for no one, apprentice!" "Still working on that quest?" "Shouldn't you be murdering something about now?" "Hey! You're TALKING to me! And I didn't even have an exclamation point over my head! This is the BEST day of my life!" "Sooooo... how are things?" "Hey, best friend!" "Yessss, look into my eyes. You're getting sleepy. You're getting... zzzzzz... Zzzzzz..." "Success! My spell to make you want to hang out with me worked!" "Stay a while, and listen. Oh god, please -- PLEASE! -- stay a while." "Away with thee!" "Don't you worry, minion! Give me one good shot at that (name) dude and I'll take them right out! I... just got some stuff to do first." "We've really come a long way, haven't we, minion? And you're still just as loyal as ever! Who's a good minion? You are! Yes you are!" "Yessiree! This whole place would completely fall apart without old Claptrap keeping things humming along!" "As a robot, I'm completely immune to (name)’s gas attacks. But that hasn't stopped me from incessantly cowering!" "And I thought bandits were bad BEFORE they had nightmare plants growing out of them!" "You already saved Pandora? But... but I'M the hero of Pandora! It's on my business card! I ORDERED SO MANY OF THEM!" "Sanctuary's gone? But the bank! All my stuff! All my crucial information! YES! I'M OFF THE GRID, BABY! NO MORE CREDITORS! Seriously, I owe a lot of people a lot of money." " The Vault Map is gone! Forever! It will never be found. Never, ever, ever-- is what I'll say to everyone I know while I look for it. " “ I can do more than open doors, sir/ma’am! We CL4P-TP units can be programmed to do anything from open doors to ninja-sassinate highly important Janitor-y officials! ” “ I once started a revolution myself. There were lots of guns and a lot of dying. You'd think I would have gotten some better benefits out of the whole thing but no, demoted back to door-opening servitude! ” “ ---Remember what? Are... are you my father? ” “ Are you god? Am I dead? ” “ I'M DEAD I'M DEAD OHMYGOD I'M DEAD! ” “ Thanks for giving me a second chance, (name). I really appreciate it. ” " Hey everybody! Check out my package! " " Let's get this party started! " " Glitching weirdness is a term of endearment, right? " " This time it'll be awesome, I promise! " " Look out everybody! Things are about to get awesome! " " Eww, what flavor is red? " "Where'd all my bullets go?" " Bullets are dumb. " " I need tiny death pellets! " " RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIVES! " " Oh, s/he's big...REALLY big! " " I am a tornado of death and bullets! " " Stop me before I kill again, except don't! " " There is no way this ends badly! " " This is why I was built! " " You call yourself a badass? " " Is it dead? Can- can I open my eyes now? " " I didn't panic! Nope, not me! " " Not so tough after all! " " I have gaskets tougher than you! " " That was me! I did that! " " Don't tell me that wasn't awesome! " " Wait, did I really do that? " " Aww! Now I want a snow cone. " " Freeze! I don't know why I said that. " " I can't feel my fingers! Gah! I don't have any fingers! " " Why do I even feel pain?! " " Why did they build me out of galvanized flesh?! " " That looks like it hurts! " " Oh, quit falling to pieces. " " Is that what people look like inside? " " Huh, robot's don't do that. " " Disgusting. I love it! " " It's about to get magical! " " You can't just program this level of excitement! " " Push this button, flip this dongle, voila! Help me! " " Square the I, carry the 1... YES! " " I have an IDEA! " " Round and around and around she goes! " " It's like a box of chocolates. " " If I had veins, they'd be popping out right now! " " Roses are red and/Violets are blue/Wait... how many syllables was that? " " Aww, I should've drawn tattoos on you! " " Tell me I'm the prettiest! " " Trouncy, flouncy... founcy... those aren't words. " " The robot is dead, long live the robot! " " Take these, gorgeous, you'll feel better! " " Some days, you just can't get rid of an obscure pop-culture reference. " " Oh darn, oh boy, oh crap, oh boy, oh darn. " " Do not look behind my curtain! " " I'm made of magic! " " Like those guys who made only one song ever. " " Everybody, dance time! Da-da-da-dun-daaa-da-da-da-dun-daaa! " " I brought you a present: EXPLOSIONS! " " Is this really canon? " " ... You're dead to me. " “ Nobody hurts my friends! " " Wubwubwub. Dubstep dubstep. Wubwubwubwub DROP! Dubstep! " " I'll stop talking when I'm dead! " " I'll die the way I lived: annoying! " " Come back here! I'll gnaw your legs off! " " This could've gone better! " " You look like something a skag barfed up! " " What's that smell? Oh wait, it's just you! " " Yo momma's so dumb, she couldn't think of a good ending for this 'yo momma' joke! " " You're one screw short of a screw! " " I bet your mom could do better! " " Good thing I don't have a soul! " " I'll never go back to the bad place! " " I have many regrets! " " Can I just say... yeehaw. " " You're the wub to my dub! " " So... does this make me your favorite? " " What are YOU doing down here? " " We're like those buddies in that one show! " " This is no time to be lazy! " " You can thank me later! " " You love me, right? " " You, me... keeping on... together? " " You versus me! Me versus you! Either way! " " Dance battle! Or, you know... regular battle. " " You wanna fight with me?! Put 'em up!.. Put 'em up? " " A million baddies, and you wanna hit me? Aww! " " I am so impressed with myself! " " Ha ha, this is in no way surprising! Ha ha! " " Don't bother with plastic surgery - there's NO fixing that! " " I am right behind you, Vault Hunting friend! " " I can do that too! ... Sorta... Except not. " " You jerks have NO idea what you're in for! " " I'm so glad I'm not one of those guys right now! " " YOU! ARE! SCARY! " " That is in no way disturbing. " " I did a challenge? I did a challenge! " " Glad I didn't mess that up. " " I feel... complete!.. That's weird. " " I actually did something right for once! " " Hmmm, the possibilities are an infinite recursion. " " Do any of these come with a new paint job? " " Which of these gives me my free will back? " " The moon is not enough! " " I'd do anything for a man/woman with a gun. " " At least I still have my teeth! " " Coffee? Black... like my soul. " " Crazy young whippersnappers...  " " I've finally got an electric personality! " " Wait, this isn't vegetable juice! " " Cool! Now we're both super-crazy-amazing! " " These are the best kind of cooties! " " Can I shoot something now? Or climb some stairs? SOMETHING exciting? " " Times like these, I really start to question the meaning of my existence. Then I get distra-hey! What's this? This looks cool! " " It would really stink if I couldn't control what I was thinking. Like, who wants to know that I'm thinking about cheese and lint, right? " " How does math work? Does this skin make me look fat? If a giraffe and a car had a baby, would it be called a caraffe? Life's big questions, man. " " Who needs memories when I can do all this cool stuff? Stuff that I currently am not doing! That's what I'd like to call a 'hint'. " " Does this mean I can start dancing? Pleeeeeeaaaaase? " " Ya know when there was that Vault monster scare? I had these friends, and boy times sure were scary! But, I didn't care because I had friends, and they were like... super-friends! And then they left me, but they saved the world and I was like 'I know those guys!' Even though they never came back after that I still knew they cared, because no one had ever been... nice to me before. ... What is this? My eye is like... leaking. " " It's really quiet... and lonely... (hums briefly) Also this 'stopped moving' thing makes me uncomfortable. It gives me time to stop and think... literally. I'VE STOPPED, AND I'M THINKING! IT HURTS ME! " " Oh. My. God. What if I'm like... a fish? And, if I'm not moving... I stop breathing? AND THEN I'LL DIE! HELP ME! HELP MEEEEE HEE HEE HEEE! HHHHHHHELP! " " Ahem, ahem. What's going on? Did I break something? " “ You hear me, (name)?! You killed my friends! You destroyed my product line! I am the last Claptrap in existence, AND I AM GOING TO TEABAG YOUR CORPSE! ” “ You think a door can stop me, (name)?! I was MADE to open doors! ” “ Dammit, (name) - how did you know stairs were my ONLY weakness?! Next to electrocution, and explosions, and gunfire, rust, corrosion, being kicked a lot, viruses, being called bad names, falling from great heights, drowning, adult onset diabetes, being looked at funny, heart attacks, exposure to oxygen, being turned down by women, and pet allergens! Your brilliance is matched only by your malevolence! ” “ I'm just gonna go ahead and cloak now. You can't hear me crying if I cloak! (sobbing) stairs, why did it have to be stairs? I'll never climb those stairs! ”

[grumpyhedgehogs]

These Kids These Days with Their Ink Machines

Summary: In which Henry is much too old for this and decides to go home. Surprisingly, this course of action works out well for pretty much everybody.

Notes: I just realized I never cross-posted this on tumblr so here you go. That being said, my Henry is definitely Grandpa!Henry rather than Dad!Henry. He's old and tired, and he wears a bushy beard and ugly sweaters when he shows up to fight demons. As you do. As I said in the tags, only some past violence and very (very) light gore that is depicted in the game. Still, if you are uncomfortable with talking about past murders, steer clear. Otherwise, enjoy! P.S.: The working title of this was: Henry Saves Everybody By Being Old And Grumpy

~

Henry is standing knee deep in ink and God knows what else when he makes up his mind. It’s a decision he should have made before turning on the Ink Machine, before coming to the studio, hell, before opening Joey Drew’s blasted letter.

It’s a decision he makes, simply, over the ominous creaking in his knees.

“All right, that’s enough for me,” Henry says, and turns right back around to get in the elevator again. In the corner, Boris tilts his head and twitches his nose questioningly. Henry pats him reassuringly on the shoulder.

“No need to worry, Boris.” He sighs and scrubs a gnarled hand through his hair. “I’ve just come to the realization that I’m much too old for these shenanigans.”  

Boris perks his ears and wisely does not agree to Henry being old. Smart wolf.

“Come on then, let’s go talk to Ms. Angel about these ridiculous requests of hers.”

Boris decidedly does not like that plan.

~

“Come now, little errand boy, you can’t have collected my hearts so easily, could you? Maybe I’ll just have to take yours inst-”

“That’s enough of that nonsense, miss. Please come out here now, I’d like a word.”

Alice doesn’t reply for a moment but Henry can hear a faint indignant squawk before the intercom cuts off. After some time, the doors beneath the “She’s Quite a Gal” sign slide open just a crack. He can see her unearthly eye peering out at him. Her halo glows above her, casting Alice’s face into severe shadows.

Henry is far too tired to come off as half as terrified as he suspects Alice wants him to be.

“Excuse me?” Alice’s tone is dangerous and soft. “You think you can wander into my web and tell me what to do? The more you fight, little fly, the more pain-“

Henry levels an expression he used to use to get Joey to do what he wanted at her. She shuts her mouth with an audible click; after a moment Alice seems to be at a loss as to how to proceed, so Henry feels it safe to step in.

“Now, I need you to listen to what I’m saying, young lady.” She twitches, but his fatherly expression stops her from retreating. “I am much too old for all the hullabaloo that’s going on around this place. I figure if I keep going like this my heart’s just going to plum give out. My doctor told me I have to take it easy these days, you know?”

“Uh,” Alice replies, dumbfound. What is going on? This is not according to plan.

Henry stuffs his hands in his pockets and blows out an exaggerated breath. “Now, I’m thinking we’ve only got a few options here.”

This is the first time he’s heard Alice sound hesitant. “Options?”

“Well yes, as to how we’re all getting out of here,” Henry replies blithely. “Now, I do have a van, on account of never getting rid of it when my kids grew up and went off to college-remind me to show you some photographs, I’ve got them around here somewhere- so I can take maybe five? That’ll fit me, you, Boris of course, and three others. Maybe I could take the Butcher Gang? Hm, but I’d rather like to collect Bendy and Norman myself, I mean someone has to keep an eye on them. Sammy too, for that matter. I know there’s at least one company van left in the parking lot, and it looked like maybe it could still run if we jump started it- do you know how to drive?”

“What,” says Alice. The doors creak open more, revealing her in all her stained glory. Behind Henry, Boris cowers back, pulling his ears down over his eyes. She feels sick vindication at his fear slip through her veins like poison; but Henry doesn’t move.

“Do you know how to drive?” He repeats. “It’ll be much easier to get out if two of us could drive.”

“You-I- you want to leave…”

“Yep.”

“…With us?”

“Yessiree Bob.”

“That-That’s so stupid!”

Henry tilts his head at her. “Why?”

“We-I- everyone’s trying to kill you! We’re monsters.”

He looks distinctly unimpressed. “That’s a terrible argument, because I don’t agree with your self-assessment. Besides, I’m sure we can work things out with a nice, rational conversation later. Maybe over hot chocolate, that makes everything better. Now, are you ready to go?”

“But,” Alice glances around uncertainly, a little desperate. She feels like she’s grasping at straws here, like she’s trying to hold onto thoughts that slip through her fingers like water. Boris isn’t cowering anymore. “But why?”

“Oh honey,” Henry says, reaching out arthritic fingers to push her hair out of her face. Alice feels the cold husk in her chest thump once, twice, hard. “Did you think I’d leave without you all?”

~

Alice only looks a little out of place, standing between himself and Boris. After all the stuttering and wavering she did when he explained their escape plans, the wolf has lost a good bit of that unhealthy fear of the angel.

Not that Henry can blame her. Poor thing has been cooped up all alone in her tower for too long. And who knew how Joey had treated her before that. Young woman just needs some rest and a good talking to, to get her head on straight.

Henry figures he’s retired; he has enough free time on his hands to help with that.

“So, I think I heard Sammy rambling about a few floors up,” He says conversationally as the cage slides into position. “Shall we?”

A few Searchers flop and scramble forward before he even steps out. “None of that now, please,” Henry makes his tone sharp and authoritative. The Searchers stop, motionless. It looks like they turn their heads towards each other for a moment, before looking back at the animator, sightless and bewildered.

Henry looks at Alice. “You know these little guys more than me. Do you think there’s any way to help them out?”

The Searchers perk up at that. One face plants into Henry’s right knee and wraps its arms around his pant leg.

“I-“ Alice falters for a moment, wringing her hands. The sight softens Henry’s expression and Alice seems to find her voice. “I don’t think they can leave the Ink Machine. And they-they’re in pain. The voices in the ink…”

“Oh.” Henry tries to ignore the lump in his throat. All the pain Joey had caused-how much of it could have been avoided if he had been here to talk Drew down? “They’re hurting, aren’t they? And there’s only one way to stop it.”

Alice nods and shuts her eyes for a moment. Boris trembles, but pats her quickly on the shoulder. Memories of being in the ink were never good. “We’ll have to shut down the Machine.”

Henry nods, and gently passes his palm over the Searcher’s formless back. “I’m sorry, little buddy. It’ll be okay soon.” The Searcher nods and turns back to his friends, seeming to communicate soundlessly to them.

Two more Searchers wrap themselves around Henry’s knees before allowing them to move forward. Boris watches quietly as they faded back into the ink puddles.

~

“Sammy Lawrence, you stop that right now.”

Sammy jumps, fumbling with the paint brush and bucket of ink in his hands. Henry stands a few feet behind him, flanked by Alice and Boris. Sammy tries not to flinch at the sight of the angel. It has been a long time since he last saw her.

“Sheep!” He exclaims, preparing himself to leap forward.

“No.” Henry snaps, and Sammy deflates. “Now, that is no way to treat your workspace, and I‘d have thought a man as meticulous as you would be ashamed of such behavior.”

“I-I-”Sammy splutters for a moment, “I am doing this for my Demon Lord, so he knows that I serve him-“

“Hogwash,” Henry snorts. “You’re still just as overdramatic as usual, Sammy, although the man I knew at least knew how to retain his pride.”

“How dare-“

“Now listen here, and listen good,” Henry interrupts again and good God of the Ink, the old animator never knew when to leave well enough alone did he, “I’m taking all of us out of this hellhole and I don’t want to hear any complaining. There are going to be a few rules, in fact.”

“What,” Sammy says, as Alice giggles unexpectedly. Boris bumps his shoulder into hers and grins. She’s not half as intimidating when she’s smiling, Sammy realizes vaguely.

Henry takes no notice of their childish behavior, and wags his finger at Sammy instead. “There will be no praying to demons, singing of hymns or giving sermons on this trip. You are not to antagonize or make the others uncomfortable with your worship and you are to tell me when you are upset instead of using idolizing Bendy as a terrible coping mechanism. And no calling anyone sheep. That’s just weird, Sammy.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, sheep-“

He cuts himself off with one glance at Henry’s expression. Alice leans forward conspiratorially. “The Dad Look only gets worse, Lawrence. It’s best just to give in, trust me.”

“Huh,” Sammy says, feeling his ink receding from where it dripped down his mask. Henry smiles at him from over his spectacles. “Well then. Alright, Henry.”

~

Norman Polk was never a very loud man, which made his screeching as a projector monster just plain uncharacteristic, in Henry’s humble opinion.

“Oh, will you stop that racket,” Henry says, and the Projectionist obediently pulls up short before barreling into him. Ink still splashes onto his chest, though, and Henry mourns the loss of his favorite orange sweater. “Really Norman, what has gotten into you?”

“IIIInnnnkkk…” Howls the speaker in Norman’s chest.

“Alright,” Henry concedes, “That’s a fair point. Would you like some help with that?”

The speaker hums confusedly, increasing in pitch until Henry claps his hands over his ears. “Just a nod or a shake, please!”

The hum stops before- “Hennn-Hennn-rrr-eee?”

“Yes, old pal,” Henry says, “what say you we get outta here? You look like you could use a vacation. Or retirement, as it were.”

The Projectionist rears back, its light blinding Henry and for a moment he thinks maybe he misjudged this, that he’s going to get a face full of claws on behalf of someone who used to be a good friend-

The light dims, the Projectionist hunches back down, and his mechanical head dips twice. Before pulling back, Henry reaches out and lays his hand alongside the projector. The metal is warm. “Good. Let’s go home, then.”

~

The Butcher Gang huddles around a flaming barrel at the back of the toy warehouse, where the elevator doesn’t reach. By the time Henry has cleared all the stairs to get down there, he’s breathing a bit too heavily. He leans back on the banister and feels Boris place a worried hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine, son,” Henry tells him, wincing a little and rubbing his chest. “Just not as spry as I used to be. Give me a minute.”

Alice is back to wringing her hands. “Did I- I made this happen, didn’t I?”

Henry levels a look at her over his glasses. “Don’t take responsibility for things out of your control. Father Time did this to me, Ms. Angel. And the war. Although I suppose the ink fumes I inhaled all my career didn’t help my asthma. Don’t get old, kids.”

“We can’t,” Sammy says helpfully. Henry would reply, but the Butcher Gang is approaching cautiously.

“Well now, who do we have here,” Henry says, opening his hands welcomingly. “Let an old man have a look at you three.”

The Butcher Gang veritably break his heat. Every one of them look in pain or misshapen, even worse than Alice or Sammy. Alice and Sammy don’t have fishing poles in their necks or wooden limbs. Alice and Sammy can speak.

Still, Henry didn’t hold title of Head Animator at the studio for nothing. “Well, this’ll take a good bit of work, I can tell you that. But all in all, I think it’s quite salvageable, don’t you? We’ll have to collect some ink to take home with us, but I think we can fix you up in no time.”

Edgar’s stitched together lips mouth the word ‘home,’ and Henry feels a twist in his chest. He smooths his fingers of Barley’s head and smiles kindly. “Yes, kiddos, home. You wanna get out of this place with us? I’ve got my own fireplace.”

Soon, Henry is swarmed by tiny toons all trying to climb into his arms. Henry laughs, kneeling and wrapping them all in a hug. They remind him not in small part of his own children when they were young. So eager to please, and so excited for a new playmate.

Boris catches Charley under the armpits and heaves him up onto his own hip. After a moment, Norman follows the wolf’s lead and swings both Edgar and Barley onto his broad shoulders. The toons shuffle a bit, glancing worriedly between the stairs back to the elevator and Henry. Alice holds out her hand to help Henry up from his position on the floor, and Sammy takes his other side with ease.

“Now, now,” Henry says, trying to keep a stern face, “you’re going to make a man feel old with all your fussing.”

~

The crowd that spills out of the elevator as it reaches his floor is not at all what Bendy expects to see when he rounds the corner. It’s a mess, a tangle of limbs and stumbling and loud screeching. Bendy stands stock-still and watches it all unfold out of the doors like a clown car. It’s almost awe-inspiring.

“What are you doing, you’re going to hurt him, hanging onto him like that,” says a voice Bendy is startled to realize is Alice, “you know his back is bad-“

“I’m not holding onto him, Barley is, he won’t let go of his sweater- come on, sheep-uh, kid, we’re trying to get out of here it’s super cramped-“

“M-mmyyyyy fff-ff-fooooottt-“

“Alright, alright everybody, settle down.” Henry’s voice booms. Bendy has never heard –doesn’t remember hearing from his time of being ink on a page, staring up into those warm eyes, wondering what he’ll do next, which adventure will his creator send him on- the animator speak so loudly. “Single file, and no stepping on anyone’s toes. That’s it now. Watch the inkwells, we don’t want to make another trip for those.”

When Boris sees him, he yelps and points wildly in Bendy’s direction. Strangely enough, he seems excited, rather than scared.

Henry finally pops into view, dusting himself off and running a hand ruefully through his ink-stained beard.   “What’s that now, Boris?”

Bendy steps forward; he feels that old anger, that hatred for the traitor who left him here, left him to be tormented by the likes of Joey Drew, who didn’t even care to look back, rise to the surface.

Henry levels a look at him over his glasses, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line and sighs at him disappointedly. Bendy stops. Bendy stares. Bendy tells himself he is not intimidated.

“Uh-oh,” Sammy mutters from behind Norman somewhere, “I remember that look.” Norman nods.

“Hush, you interfering miscreant,” Henry says, and although his expression doesn’t change, his voice is warm. It’s surprisingly warm still when he addresses Bendy. “Now, what in heavens are we going to do with you, hm?”

Bendy feels the ink on his spine bristle into spikes. Alice shuffles like she wants to step back, but glances at Henry, and stays. On his other side, Boris plants his feet and pulls a lead pipe from out of nowhere. Norman looms, protective and hulking, behind Henry.

“Oh would you all be terribly disappointed if we left the posturing for the teenage boys?” Henry sounds exasperated. He steps forward, towards Bendy and Bendy- doesn’t know quite what to do. No one has ever come toward him, after all. They mostly run away screaming. His spikes recede.

Ink drips down over his (confused, anxious, hateful, hopeful) grin as Henry says, grandfatherly, “Would you let me have a look at you, son?”

Bendy almost backs away as Henry steps up to him, but he is a fearsome ink demon who has taken the lives of any who stepped foot in this hell. He does not run away from old men in ridiculous sweaters.

Henry reaches up, up, up and gently, oh so gently, lays a wrinkled palm just at the edge of his grin. Bendy can’t -won’t- read the warm look in his eyes. “Well, it has been a long time, hasn’t it old friend? I missed you.”

His palm is warm, and rough, and reassuringly heavy. Almost against his will, Bendy lowers his head to Henry’s level, looks at him from inches away, and sees Henry for the first time.

He is old- older than Joey Drew was when Bendy ripped his heart out, older than Sammy was when he became what he is, older than Alice ever was. And he is tired- Bendy can see it in the corners of his eyes, the way his back won’t straighten like he has an awful weight on it, the way his knees are forever bent just a little. And he is terribly, horribly sad.

“Joey really did a number on you, huh, buddy.” Henry says, and he is so quietly miserable, like he’s seen into Bendy’s (non-existent?) heart and shares his sorrow, “I never should have left you alone. I’m sorry, pal.”

Henry’s trembling fingers slip through the ink on Bendy’s face, slicking it away, and Bendy’s eyes see the light of day for the first time in thirty years. His first real sight, not plagued with ink, is his Creator’s solemn, hopeful smile.

Bendy feels like crying.

So he does, loud and quaking and right there in front of so many in the middle of the place he has been tortured in for years, where he’s killed so many for what they have done to him. Where he cannot- will not- kill his last Creator.

Henry pulls him forward, tucks his chin between Bendy’s horns, and rubs his back.

“It’s okay Bendy,” he hears Henry murmur, “You’re okay now. We’re gettin’ outta here, all of us. We’re going home. It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”

Bendy curls around his Creator, clutches him close, and doesn’t let go for a long time.

~

Bendy shows them to the Ink Machine. It is, predictably, based near Joey’s old office. The last few yards, the hallway is lined with Searchers, all watching, sightless, as Henry follows the Ink Demon to where all of this began.

Henry and Bendy step into the Machine’s room, but Alice and Boris stop at the threshold. None of the others seem intent on coming with, so Henry smiles and nods understandingly.

This ends how it was started: with him and Bendy.

At the side of the room, connected to the Ink Machine with thick wires and tubes, is a simple switch labeled “POWER.” Joey was never one for subtlety, Henry ponders, faintly amused.

Before he has taken even a step towards the switch, Bendy lays a light hand on Henry’s arm. He holds up a terrifyingly large syringe filled with ink, and gestures toward Henry, then toward Joey’s office, then to the syringe and back to Henry.

Henry gets it. “Oh no, my boy, I’m much too old for that attempting to obtain immortality nonsense. Having bad knees for eternity? Count me out, thanks. Let’s just get this done, shall we?”

Bendy nods and lets out a low growling hum. Together they cross to the switch. Together they grasp it. Together they end the Ink Machine once and for all.

~

As it turns out, Sammy can drive still. Allegedly.

“I was the best driver here, Henry.” Sammy says, incredulous.

“You were the flashiest driver here,” Henry corrects as Norman nods vigorously, “and that car of yours was a deathtrap.”

“Beulah,” Sammy supplies wistfully, “I wish she were still around. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get us out of here and back to your house. I’ll even be following you! Easy-peasy.”

“Do you even have eyes? I don’t believe you can see the road, no matter what you say.”

“I can walk without bumping into things can’t I? It’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not like we have that many options here.”

Henry glances around; Alice is missing an eye (he can totally fix that, he’s already mentally set aside an inkwell for her), Boris is a wolf and it is questionable if he even knows what a car is, Bendy has six inch claws, the Butcher Gang is much too short and have between them only three or four defined eyes, and Norman- Norman is a projector.

He sighs. He sucks it up. He sends a quick prayer to anyone out there.

“Fine. But I’m gonna be having Alice check on you in the mirrors the entire time, got it?”

Sammy bounces on his heels and his mask moves as if he may be smiling.

Henry tugs on his beard once more and says, “Alright, here’s how we do it; Bendy, Alice and Boris are with me. Norman and the Butcher Gang will fit more comfortably together in the van with Sammy. Any questions?”

“Yes,” Alice says, raising her hand like they're in school. “How are we going to get the van running? It looks dead.”

Henry hadn’t thought of that passed the usual “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it” reasoning.

“That,” he says, deadpan, “is a good question Ms. Angel.”

There’s a crash behind them. Henry spins, heart in his mouth, to see Norman pulling haphazardly at the wires connected to the back of his head.

“Norman!” Henry leaps forward, almost tripping over the curb before Bendy catches him around the waist. “What in the blazes are you-“

Paying no heed, Norman shoves his wiring into the van’s battery and flips an unseen switch on the back of his own head. His projector light dims a moment and then-

The engine sparks, trembles, and turns over.

“Huh,” Alice says faintly behind Henry. Boris whines happily.

“That’s convenient,” Sammy sounds cheerful, “all aboard then, right Henry?”

~

The drive out to Henry's home is a long one. He chats idly with Alice on the way, ignoring Boris's cold nose poking into his neck. The wolf's ears flap in the wind from the open window, but Boris is loving the smells of the outside world, so Henry doesn't have the heart to roll it up just yet.

"Who is this?" Alice asks, fingers brushing over a worn photo of his late wife in his wallet.

"Linda," Henry sighs with a bittersweet smile shot at her before turning back to the road. "My wife. She was a gem."

"She's very pretty," Alice murmurs softly.

Henry reaches out blindly, and smiles when her fingers wrap tightly around his. Her hand is cold, but that's alright; he's warm enough for them both.

"She was a spectacular woman. She would have wanted to save you just as much as I do. You would have loved her."

"She's-" Alice falters and Boris whines sadly, pressing his nose more firmly into the crook of Henry's neck from behind. "She's gone?"

"Human nature, honey," Henry says gently. "I'm alone now, but that's alright. I've made my peace with it."

Boris whines again. Sammy's lights flash in the rear-view mirror.

"You're not alone anymore, Creator," Alice says quietly. Henry squeezes her hand, catches Bendy's eye in the mirror, and grins.

"I guess not, huh?"

Bendy smiles back, softer now, content. From out of thin air, in the darkness and out of sight, his hands pull out that strange syringe. He turns it over in his fingers, watching his Creator lead them to safety, and contemplates immortality.

[spacednp]

Rehab

im trying to put some of my fics on tumblr bc why not so i copied and pasted this from wattpad (its old kinda but like yeah)

TW:it's a rehab fic so if that kind of think triggers you then don't read xx also, peej is in here bc I couldn't resist lol

I wrote this bc I couldn't find any phan rehab fics and so I made one myself I guess you could say it filled me with DETERMINATION

Srry I made the Undertale reference

Wc: 3k

Dan didn't even know why he decided to go the rehab. He should of just kept drowning his problems out with alcohol, it'd worked this long. But here he was, getting his bags checked in preparation for the next 90 days of his life. Yay.

"What's this for?" The man checking Dan's bags asked, holding up a string that was at the bottom of Dan's bag. His voice was ruff and he was a bulky build with dark ink tattoos of dragons staining his arms. Dan didn't even know he had that string in there, it probably just fell off a shirt he had stuffed in the his bag at last minute. It wasn't even seven centimeters long.

"To hang myself," Dan wasn't very funny sober. The man obviously didn't take it as a joke or think it was very funny because he rolled her eyes, frowned, and took the sting away, handing it to another man who threw the string in a plastic tub full of confiscated items. The clear bucket held things from water bottles full of whiskey-oh God that looked so so good to Dan in that moment (there was nothing he wouldn't give for a sip of that right then)-to cellphones.

Once Dan's bags were checked he was stuffed into a dull room with two beds, two dressers, and two wooden desks with chairs. Dan rolled his eyes but said nothing. Apparently he had a roommate. Dan threw his bag onto the bed farthest from the door. The sheets were dark blue, which by far wasn't Dan's favorite color. The men who'd thrown him in the room left. Another man, with dull green eyes and brown curly hair entered the room and Dan smiled at him, which resulted in the man rolling his eyes.

"Hmph, moody," Dan muttered to himself. "I'm Dan by the way," he said a little louder. Rehab really wasn't going to be fun.

The man glared at Dan and suddenly Dan was afraid, very afraid. The man started to walk towards him when he was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. Both men looked to see a third man with a cart of blankets staring at them. The man had dark hair and bright blue eyes, Dan felt the warmth of safety run through his body all of the sudden. Though he wasn't sure why. He held the blue eyed man's gaze while Dan's new roommate just sulked back over to his bed and plopped down, anger radiated off of him in waves.

"Is there a problem here, Pj?" He asked, taking his gaze off of Dan to look over at Dan's roommate, a certain warning in his tone.

"No," The man he called Pj grumbled.

Dan didn't take his eyes off of the blue eyed man though, he knew he should look away, but he didn't.

"Good," The blue eyed man said. He turned to his cart and grabbed four dark blue blankets, he set two on Pj's bed and two on Dan's. When he got to Dan he whispered in Dan's ear, "Don't worry about Pj here, he's all bark and no bite." When Phil pulled away, Dan kind of wished he would of stayed, but he was also glad because he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold his breath, but he also didn't even know he was holding his breath. "I'm Phil by the way. Phil Lester."

"Uh, okay," Dan said. Phil didn't respond and left the room. Once he left, Dan felt Pj's gaze burning into him like fire. "What?" He snapped.

"You know, I wouldn't of come here if I knew that this was an only guys type deal, but I think your case is a little different," Pj said.

"What do you mean?" Dan asked.

"Don't play dumb," Pj paused, reading Dan's face. "You've obviously got something going on for Lester there."

"What?! No, no, I'm straight," Dan explained.

"So is spaghetti before things get hot and steamy," Dan didn't know why, but this comment made Dan like Pj. It was stupid to like him after such a weird comment was made but Dan was amused by it, so he let out a small laugh.

"So Pj, about that Phil Lester guy..." Dan really should of thought this through before he started talking. Honestly, he pretty much just blurted the first thing on his mind and of course it was Phil. Well it wasn't every day a semi attractive stranger whispered in your ear at a rehab center, of course Dan would think about him. It wasn't weird, not at all. Or maybe Dan was just a lying alcoholic with no morals, either way, he wanted to know more about the blue eyed man called Phil.

"What about him? You got a little crush on him?" Pj teased. Okay, maybe Dan didn't like Pj that much anymore. Dan ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"I just want to know a little about him," Dan insisted. Okay, maybe he wanted to know everything about the very attractive stranger. He was just really pretty... was that weird? No-no. Dan was just curious, right? He set his hand back down by his side and watched Pj closely, ready to absorb any information he could about the stranger, like a dry sponge dunked into a bucket of water.

"Well, as far as I know he's single," Pj paused for a moment to wink at Dan to which Dan replied with an eye roll, "he's also both the maid and the nurse-this is a pretty shitty center by the way, the place is pretty much a dump-and he's probably older than you."

"Wow don't you know a lot," Dan said sarcastically. He couldn't help but cross his arms around his chest.

"What? I don't keep tabs on the guy, and I've only been here a couple of weeks and I'm not exactly the best person here, I've snuck a couple beers in and gotten busted every damn time," Pj told Dan. Then he smirked. "I think I saw him check you out by the way."

"W-What? No way." Dan felt his cheeks went red, he automatically spun around to try and hide the embarrassment. He couldn't deny how his heart fluttered in his chest. Pj was just teasing Dan though, it wasn't real. Phil didn't check Dan out, no way. Dan walked over to his bag, uncrossing his arms as he walked. He unzipped his back and grabbed a stack of clothes and opened the drawer to his dress which sat next to his bed. Wooden, worn, and very very bland. He couldn't help but read the carved things on the bottom of the drawer.

Fuck this place & these people

I want a bloody drink

Everyone in here is a asshole!

Dan mentally cringed at the awful grammar and terrible handwriting. Dan agreed with the second thing though, he wanted a drink really badly. His was beginning to get foggy with a migraine and he hated the withdraw he was suffering from. This was probably the longest he's been been sober in the past five years, which was sad because it had only been two days. Maybe a little less.

"I have a killer headache," Dan hissed out of no where as he was setting his last shirt in the drawer. It wasn't a lie.

"Go to the nurse, maybe he'll give you an aspirin, or maybe he'll give you some kisses," Pj teased. Dan just shook his head, which sent a million hammers banging into skull at once. Dan let out a small moan in pain. "Oh gee Dan, you getting a little too excited over there?"

"Shut the fuck up," Dan spat at Pj. Pj chuckled at this, which sent a wave of frustration through Dan. Why was he laughing?! Dan literally felt like he was dying!

"I'll take you to the nurse, hopefully Phil's in his office," Pj stood up and started walking towards the door. Dan followed slowly because wow his head hurt. Dan followed as fast as he could and kept up with Pj's fast pace as much as he could, but ugh his head hurt so bad. Eventually they reached a door that had the work "nurse" on its navy tag.

"Here we are good sir," Pj said, slapping Dan on the back and beginning to walk away. But before he left completely he managed to call, "Good luck getting him to fuck you!" Over his shoulder. Dan rolled his eyes at Pj's rude comment and knocked on Phil's wooden door.

"Come in!" Phil called from inside. Dan opened the door with his right hand, his left one busy cradling his aching head. Inside was the blue eyed beauty known as Phil sitting behind a wooden desk who was scribbling something on a piece of paper. He was wearing thick black framed glasses which somehow managed to make him look more attractive than earlier. There was a computer on his desk with several papers, along with a few little nerdy trinkets. There was two chairs on the side of Phil's desk that was closest to Dan so he took a seat in one. On the wall behind Phil there was a few tall cabinets and a sink. "What's the matter?" Phil asked, not looking up from the stack of papers on his desk.

"I have a killer migraine," Dan announced. Phil looked up from his papers and smiled once he saw Dan.

"Name?" He requested, his voice sweet and warm. It reminded Dan of a warm winter coat on a chilly December day, warm and laced with fluff, guarding him from the brutal weather.

"Daniel James Howell," Dan told him, removing his hand from he head. Phil nodded and set down his pen. He turned to his computer and typed a few letters into the keyboard. The computer was white and bulky and was probably older than Dan was, weighed more than him, and was really really slow. Dan would call it slower than him, but in reality a rock could probably beat Dan in a race.

"Mhm," Phil hummed, clicking something on his screen Dan couldn't see. "Here you are! Daniel James Howell, number one twenty seven!" Dan loved the way his name rolled off of Phil's tongue. He loved how it sounded when Phil said it. But that was normal, right?

"It's not like I don't appreciate the banter, but can we just get my headache taken care of please? It's killing me," Dan whined. Phil giggled and the sound was so sweet it almost made up for the fact that he was taking so long to just hand Dan an aspirin. Almost.

"Yessiree," Phil sung, standing up and walking over to the cabinet behind him. Dan couldn't help but notice the way Phil's hips swung as he walked-okay maybe that was a little bit of a weird thought. Phil hummed a little song as he picked up a bottle of pills and opened it up. He took out a plastic cup and half filled it with tap water from the sink. He walked over to where Dan sat and handed him the pill. Dan's skin tingled when Phil's fingers brushed against his outstretched palm. That was normal though, right? It just tickled a little bit. Dan put the small pill in his mouth and Phil handed him the water. Dan took a big swig of the water and swallowed. He handed the cup back to Phil who walked back over to the sink and dumped the rest out and then threw the cup in the trash bin that sat next to Phil's desk. Dan wouldn't of wasted a drop of that if it had any alcohol at all in it.

"I have no idea how I'm going to survive three months without any alcohol," Dan thought out loud. Phil laughed, his tongue poking out of his teeth a little as he did so.

"I did it not too many years ago," Phil said. That was the last thing Dan expected to hear from the man. Phil just seemed too... good. He seemed very sweet and innocent, like a little kitten. Soft and frail. Dan couldn't even picture Phil anywhere near a bar, let alone drunk out of his mind and slurring his words. That just didn't seem like Phil. The fact that Dan felt so close to Phil even though he didn't even know the man was kind of odd. Dan noted that how he described Phil was similar to how the family and friends of serial killers described the killer.

"Really?" Dan gasped. Phil nodded, smiling still. Shook ran through Dan instead of blood.

"I was only about a year younger than you. Five years sober this March," Phil commented, a content look on his face. "You'll get used to it. Even after five years it's still hard for me sometimes, but I'm taking it one step at a time,"

"Huh, I can't picture you drunk," Dan blurred. Phil's personality was just too... adorable. Phil laughed again. "What's so funny?" Dan questioned.

"You really don't remember, huh?" Dan shook his head, confused. "Well I guess it makes sense, you were pretty hammered. Anyway, I helped you home once when you pretty much passed out outside of a bar in London a few years back. Seeing you like that was the reason I got sober and eventually got this job. I realized that it wasn't healthy to throw your life away like that and seeing someone as young as you in that state broke my heart and so I decided I wanted to help people get sober. I guess I finally get to help the person who helped me,"

"I didn't do anything," Dan said. He was really shocked, but he guessed that was why he felt so safe around Phil, because Phil had helped him before.

"Yes you did Dan. You opened my eyes and made me finally put my life in focus," Phil said. Dan didn't know how to feel. How was he supposed to feel? Was there a way he was supposed to feel?

No, there wasn't, he realized. Feelings weren't wrong or right, but they were yours. It wasn't wrong to dislike someone and it wasn't wrong to like someone either. Feelings turned into actions though. There was wrong and there was right actions. It was wrong to hurt someone but it was right to comfort someone. But how did you distinguish what was a wrong action and what was a right action? The little voice in your head. At first it always sounded like Dan's mum, telling him not to eat his brother's cookie or telling him not to run the red light. Over time though it started to sound like Dan. It told him to not smoke that cigarette he'd stolen from his dad. It even told him not to drink so much, it was the reason he was in rehab. He had ignored it all those years ago when he ended up drunk out of his mind and passed out outside of some random bar in London. It told him to trust Phil, and he listened to it.

•••

In rehab Dan learned to trust that little voice.

It told him to not take a drink of the vodka Pj managed to smuggle in, even though every other part of his body wanted it so so bad.

It told Dan to fake a headache a couple of times to go and see Phil.

It told Dan to not lose his temper when Phil found the vodka in his and Pj's room and Pj insisted it was Dan's.

It told him to calmly explain to Phil that it was Pj's and that Dan would do any blood tests to prove it.

But now, as Dan was packing up to leave rehab, it told Dan to do something a little different. He opened up the first drawer in his dresser and crossed out all the rude messages in it. Instead he replaced the terrible messages with new ones.

It gets better

You can do it

Never lose hope <3

It was cheesy and kind of-okay, very-stupid, but Dan couldn't help it. It was true, and like sweet little Phil, Dan wanted to help people. He new the truth behind the people who drown themselves in alcohol every night. They were not bad people, no. They were just broken people who ignored the little voice in their head, the one that would help them get better.

People can inspire you to help others or help yourself, but when it come down to it, you're the only one who can save yourself.

The voice will tell him to agree to go on his first date with Phil.

It will tell him that he has a crush on Phil and has since he first saw him.

It will tell him to come out to his family.

It will tell him to look into beautiful bright blue eyes and say 'I do'.

It will tell him to sign those adoption papers. Daniel James Howell-Lester.

It will tell him that it's okay to explain why Daddy and Papa don't drink all the same 'grown up' drinks as all their friends' Daddies drink to his children.

It will tell him to tell his children that no, having two Dads isn't weird.

It will tell him that it's okay to cry as his youngest child leaves for university.

It will tell him that he wants to stay with Phil until the day he dies.

And he will listen to it. Always and forever, because he's learned from his mistakes.