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In the beginning, what the artist said carried weight. But as time passed, with the audience's attention to the circus's adventures never growing beyond a few people, it began to seem less and less like the creator's promise would come true. And with other cartoons on the rise to stardom happening simultaneously, that's when the clown realized that his chance to prove his worth was, with each passing day, a distant goal. His dream was being buried. And the curtains of the show would soon close in front of him. And then,without any warning,the spotlights went out. Everything went dark. It was as expected. He was left behind.

Suddenly, the creator's interest was captured by a certain dancing demon, and all his attention and dedication was diverted from the clown and directed toward this new star. The imp became the artist's entire world. The clown? He became nothing. The clown,his crew, and all those who tried to stand out against the ink demon were left in the dark. Rotting in the abyss of oblivion, unaware of what was happening in the world outside. Such was the life of these abandoned toons. For the next 30 long years.

... ...

But one day,something changed. Light. Noise. Screams. The darkness vanished. A path forged ahead. There were voices. Calling out to him. Guiding him. Something was happening. And then. Life.

The clown was now in a new place. More decayed and rotten. Darker, deeper and inkier. He was in a room. Big,vast, and with walls that seemed to stretch on forever. Several objects that he could not identify were scattered around the place. There was something behind him too. Big and loud from what he could tell. Sounds of machinery echoed in his head, metallic screams piercing his ears. There was someone else with him, too. A large figure watched him from across the room. It was someone—or something—the clown had never seen before in his life. And yet, there was something vaguely familiar about it. A horned head and clawed hands. Its body was hunched and slimy. Its single eye reflected a light that pierced through the shadows. And in that instance, the figure was looking directly at the clown. Eddie returned the gaze. The figure smiled.

-Tragedy-

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Alternatively:

'Joey's Little Freakshow' - Return to the Studio AU

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They're back. Revamped.

I was going to talk more about Eddie in this prompt, but I think the story just took over, so I'll try to keep this ending shorter.

If the last drawing was something that applied to both of my AUs, then this one is specifically what happened in the RTTS AU. The path that led to this point was pretty... dark. I have an idea for what happens in the TCA AU, but I don't think anyone will see this alternate outcome anytime soon, lol.

The alt name for this drawing is based on what I consider "Part 2" of this AU's storyline. When Joey is forced to leave his safe haven separated from the Ink Realm and enter the demon's domain again, he embarks on a perilous journey where he is accompanied by familiar faces and faces creatures from times past, in an attempt to find his lost pawn and try to right some of his wrongs.

I'm happy to finally have at least one design for this specific version of Eddie, which I'm actually quite satisfied with. (Maybe I made his hair a little too big, tho) I don't know when I'll draw him again, but hey. At least I have something now.

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The Ink Demonth 2025 - Day 02. Comedy

Tom won't be laughing when Allison turns around and sees his slab X"D Princess Sammy is a princess, no matter what: she's gentle, sensitive to others injury, doesn't use bad words - but she's still Sammy, who never misses an opportunity to lash out with his frenemies. By the way, I don't know how many SATIM fans have figured out that these three were once besties until Sammy sacrificed Tom's hand to get Bendy out of the Machine (which didn't quite work out). I think I've mentioned this before. If not, then duh, spoilers! Sorry not sorry.

I had a lot of fun making this comic, especially the penultimate frame, where Sammy shows off his nonexistent breasts X"D I wonder... it's very obvious that I don't like the Connors, and Allison in particular? X"D

By the way, while posting this comic, I was amused that deviantArt suggested "princess" next to the standard "comics" hashtag XD This means I'm doing a good job and Sammy's appearance is recognized by bots and AI as a princess - which is what I meant XD Just so there's no doubt that he is one (although his outfit is a bit more reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland).

Link to event rules.

Bendy and the Ink Machine (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc. Sammy and the Ink Machine, especially Princess Sammy (c) Nayia Lovecat

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Keep smiling

Day 6: Stitches

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The Ink Demonth 2025

Day 6: Stitches

Allison stitches up Beast's blanket after he accidentally tears it.

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The Ink Demonth 6

Today's theme is Stitches.

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One of Cordelia's most enduring memories of her mother was going to get a glass of water in the middle of the night and finding her mother sitting in the living room, sewing by lamplight on a project.

"Mama?" She shuffled into the living room, rubbing at her eyes blearily. "What are you doing?"

Marguerite looked up from her project with a soft smile. "Oh, sweetheart. What are you doing up so late?"

Cordelia pouted a bit, folding her arms. "I asked you first."

Marguerite laughed quietly. "Fair enough. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd work on this project."

Cordelia drew closer, trying to peer into her mother's lap to see just what the mass of fabric was. "What is it?" She asked.

"Just an old dress of mine," Marguerite explained, holding it up so that Cordelia could see.

The dress looked old and out of style, and also far too small for Marguerite.

Cordelia frowned, tilting her head to the side. "Does it even fit you?"

"Not anymore." Marguerite put the dress down. "But it might fit you someday."

"What if I don't want it?" Cordelia asked before immediately regretting it and mumbling, "I mean, I might want it, but..." She trailed off, her face going a bit red. She really hoped that she hadn't been too rude.

"It's alright," Marguerite assured her. "Even if you don't want it, I'd still like to keep it."

Cordelia frowned again, moving closer to press herself against her mother's side. "...Why would you want to work on it if you're not going to use it?"

Marguerite let out a long exhale, smoothing out the fabric of the dress in her lap and looking out wistfully into the distance. "Well..." She said. "Sometimes you just need to fix something. Even if you can't fix everything, sometimes just fixing one thing can help you feel more in control."

It wasn't until much later that Cordelia finally understood what her mother had meant in that moment.

First, there had been the situation with Roy. And then... There had been the fall of Joey Drew Studios.

After the loss of Sammy and her resignation from the studio, it had really felt like her life had fallen apart. One of her best friends was gone, a child was dead, and she had no idea what on Earth she was supposed to do with her life. She'd never graduated from high school and had only held a secretarial position for the past seventeen years. She knew she could potentially try to get another secretary position, but... the idea left a bad taste in her mouth.

And then there were the nightmares about Buddy and what she'd seen that night at the studio.

Everything felt like it was falling apart.

Then, one day, she'd found her mother's old dress. The one she'd discovered Marguerite working on that night so many years before. There was a half-finished rose embroidered on the skirt with blue thread. So, she'd decided to work on it. Stitch by stitch, piece by piece, she'd completed that rose. It was such a simple thing to do, and yet... that had been the first step out of the depths she'd found herself in.

Piece by piece, stitch by stitch, she'd slowly begun to rebuild her life. Slowly, she began to put the studio and the horrors she'd seen behind her. She went back to school and eventually got a job teaching music at an elementary school. Slowly, she stitched herself back together.

She might not have been able to fix everything that had happened at the studio, but she could at least fix her life. That was enough.

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Day 6 - Stitches

Bringing you today....a musician who's sick of his pants getting ripped all the time

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Day 6: Stitches

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Day 6 of The Ink Demonth 2025, Stitches.

Take place few years before main story, when Alice started to join Bendy (That's why her hair is long there). This also before Alice discover healings power, that's why she stitch Boris injure.

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Another Stitch to Sew(Day 6)

I grabbed the thread from the first aid kit that was nearby. I made sure Shi was staying seated. I knew they hated it whenever they needed to have a part of them to be sewn up.

“Sammy…please no. I don’t want it.” Shi panicked. I shushed them as I prepared myself to stitch up an open wound they had on their arm.

“I have to sew it close, my little lamb. Your wound is too large and deep for it to heal properly.” I said as I squeezed their right hand in a comforting manner.

I began to slowly bring the needle to their right arm ready to sew up their arm. Another stitch to sew… but I knew that there will be another one eventually. I continued to sew up their arm until the wound was all stitched up.

“Is…is it done?” Shi asked as small tears left their eyes.

“Yes, it is done. Now come on… Let’s go get some food in you, hehe” I said with a slight chuckle. I escorted them to the kitchen in the cult to help them get some food. “How are your stitches doing on your chest?” I asked. I was referring to the stitches I made for when I helped them with top surgery. “Yeah!” Shi said excitedly. “Look at them, they are healing perfectly.” They had unbuttoned their shirt to show it some. I quickly covered their chest again.

“Sweet merciful Ink Demon! Shi…don’t do that. I know it isn’t really anything perverting now, but you should still have some sense of decency.” I said with a slight sigh.

“Sorry… I thought I could openly show it, especially since you don’t even wear a shirt at all.” Shi commented back.

They were right, they technically could, I mean most Lost Ones that are female don’t wear outfits like Shi… They didn’t wear anything at all since we were all made of ink, but there is a difference between me and them. I can show my chest off because I don’t have any visible scars and if any of the cult members made fun of Shi for the scars, I don’t think they could handle it yet. I’m just looking out for her…er…them. Right them. I gave them some food from the kitchen and helped them eat some since their right arm was still a bit numb. Hopefully we don’t have to deal with this again.

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We've often heard lines like "Beauty isn't everything," but let's be honest, beautiful people have it easier in life. I've often witnessed attractive colleagues at work enjoying privileges that less attractive colleagues could only dream of, especially when the band leader was a man. That's simply how it is, and nothing can be done about it. There are many jobs and professions where beauty is fundamentally important. But how does all this relate to the "Tragedy" theme from the third day of the event? You see, Alice was once a beautiful woman, an angel with a wonderful voice, her career practically based on her attractive appearance. So I understand that the moment she lost that beauty caused her world to crumble. Her greatest asset, the thing she was proud of, was gone forever. I can understand her. I understand that it was her greatest tragedy. Of course, I won't condone her madness and the crimes she committed to regain her beauty, but I understand her. When your whole life is based on attractive appearance, losing it can be a tragedy.

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Ink Demonth Day 1: Loop

Hai I'm doing Ink Demonth again since I didn't finish it in 2019 sad face. I'm late on it a lil bit but don't worry cause I just lost track of the days and thought it was like July 33rd for some reason and then I was out of town so yeah. I'll probably be going the writing route this year because I have art block rn but not writers block so mhehehehe... Btw I'm also uploading each writing piece to AO3 here!

This one-shot was also partially inspired by the BATIM New Soul AU

418. That was how many times he’d been here before. He didn’t know what happened, but last time, he was suddenly capable of remembering everything. Not exactly his old life, when he was still living, but the details and monotony of every loop he previously had no idea of. He’s set up the same shrines 418 times, recorded the same tapes 418 times, watched his old friend get crushed 418 times, done this exact ritual 418 times, and been killed by the Ink Demon he once praised 418 times.

And yet, here Sammy was, doing it all over again as he slowly approached Henry from behind with the same dustpan he’d used every time. His approach was just as silent as a cloud in the dead of night. He watched the poor man go down after loudly bashing the pan over his head, but he watched his eyes flutter closed in silence. His grip on the dustpan was stranger and more aching than before as he stared at Henry’s weathered and gloomy face. Sammy exhaled sharply before tossing the dustpan aside carelessly and snatching Henry by his foot for transportation.

Henry softly groaned as he gradually came back to his senses. It was a familiar pain, but not exactly one that he’d grown used to. “You,” the inky figure before him sneered venomously as he stared him down.

…That was new.

Henry’s brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at Sammy, his eyes still trying to unblur. Normally, he’d heard the same monologue so many times that he had it memorized, down to the little inflections used in the way Sammy would recite it. This time, the man didn’t move slowly with dark elegance, he wasn’t even holding the axe this time. Instead, he stood there and stared down at Henry almost menacingly. His arms hung straight at his sides with hands clenched into threatening fists. He seemed to expect Henry to speak, but Henry simply stared at him in confusion. He was always silent during the ritual, as he saw no point in fighting it anymore if he knew he’d make it out alive no matter what. Henry looked to the side, where the axe was carelessly thrown to the floor instead of laid against the wall like it should have been.

“ANSWER ME!-” Sammy snapped, causing Henry to jump in surprise. He remembered Sammy as an angry man in his life, but at this stage of the cycle? Sammy was never supposed to get angry for any reason. Henry stammered for a moment before managing to string a sentence together in his confusion, “C-Calm down! What about me?” Out of curiosity, he attempted to move, only to find that he was still restrained to the pillar this time. Sammy grabbed Henry’s shirt collar, “THAT GIRL!- What did she do to me?! What did YOU do to me?!-” Sammy demanded. The metallic smell of ink on his skin hit Henry’s nostrils hard enough to be headache inducing.

“What are you talking about?!” Sammy’s voice came more frantic than before, “I remember EVERYTHING! I’ve been here so many times- and- and I REMEMBER every time I’ve been here! It all started when she- when she TOUCHED ME with that HAND OF HERS!-” Henry struggled to make any sense of his babbling. Somehow seeing Sammy like this was way more disturbing than the first time he had attempted to sacrifice him. “...Audrey?” “YES!- HER!-” Henry was taken aback, he remembered her from the last loop, because she was completely new and it was the longest time he’d ever lasted in a single cycle. That being said, he had no memory of her even approaching Sammy in the Keeper’s Prison.

“I don’t know what she did!-” Henry said defensively, “Why are you asking what I did to you?” Sammy groaned in frustration and ran a hand over his head, “BECAUSE! YOU were the one that reset every cycle- a-and then SHE reset one! You both had successes and you MUST have a connection!-” “WELL I DON’T.” Henry snapped back, his voice eching through the room and reverberating off of the rotting wooden walls. The echo was like the ring of a crystal bowl, forcing Sammy into the tranquil sense of clarity and calm that he desperately needed at the moment. He let out a shaky sigh as Sammy slowly let go of the collar of his shirt. “I… I’ve been here so many times and I remember all of them now- but I… I didn’t before…” Sammy said quietly, sounding a bit winded. Henry watched Sammy take a few steps away, with his back to him and staring at the floor.

Sammy reached up and slid his mask up from his face and took it off. He held it before him and stared at the old and worn grin of the little devil that he’d worn proudly for who knows how long. “I know what happens, sheep,” he said simply. Henry watched him with a solemn expression. “I know how the one I call ‘my lord’... kills me. I remember all 418 times where he tore me limb from limb like a savage and starved beast. I know he will turn on me the moment I enter that room and leave you here. I know it’ll all happen again afterwards, how I’ll have to feel the agony all over again.”

“Sammy…” Henry said quietly. “You don’t have to do this… If you know what happens if you go the way you do then- then why not change?” he pleaded. Sammy looked up from his mask and stared ahead blankly, “...I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. This is all I’ve done, it’s all I know.” “But you KNOW The Ink Demon will fail you! Over and over!” Sammy turned to face Henry, “What else am I supposed to do then?!” Even though the only thing that remained of his facial features was a jawline and brow bone, Henry could still tell Sammy’s face was contorted in a mix of frustration and desperation. “I don’t- I don’t WANT to keep feeling this! I don’t want to remember! I don’t want to be able to predict what will happen! Damn it Henry, I DON’T WANT TO DIE MULTIPLE TIMES PER CYCLE ANYMORE, JUST AT LEAST THAT!” Sammy’s voice cracked as he finished speaking, sounding as if he would have began to tear up if he actually could.

Henry leaned his head forward, “Sammy, I don’t think you have much of a choice.” His voice was firm and his brows were lowered sternly. “But- what you DO have a choice in is how you spend each cycle. You know more than everyone else about what will happen, just like me! Out of all the people who I used to work with-” “I have no recollection of ever working with you, sheep.” Sammy interrupted with disdain. Henry sighed and tried to brush away his agitation, “As I was trying to say. You’re the only one who’s began to remember the past loops. I want to help the people trapped here, I want to let them go out and live in the sun and fresh air like they’re supposed to!” Sammy scoffed and walked closer.

“And what? Are you trying to rub in my face that I won’t get that?” Henry groaned, even in this inky death prison of his, Sammy was just as stubborn and negative as when he was alive. “No, I’m obviously not trying to do that,” Henry said exasperatedly. “The point I’m making is that BECAUSE you remember every cycle now that maybe it’s a sign that you’re closer to freedom! It means I might be able to help you get out! We can work together!” he said, not really making any effort to hide his pleading tone.

Sammy watched him silently, deep in thought as he was weighing the pros and cons and siding with the sheep he always sacrificed before. “...You can’t only work towards my freedom. I advocated for everyone to be free, not just myself.” Henry nodded in agreement, “And we can work towards that together! We just have to figure out how to recreate the effect Audrey’s hand had on you…” Sammy hesitated, but his mask slowly slipped from his fingers and plopped into the floor, where he paid it no mind.

After a few more seconds of contemplation, he sighed and relented before going to untie Henry from the pillar. “...What’s your name, sheep?” “...It’s Henry. Henry Stein.” Sammy walked back around to the front of him after releasing the binds on his wrists. “That name sounds familiar too… along with your face…” he said thoughtfully. Henry went to pick up his axe before approaching Sammy again, “I’m sure it’ll come back to you soon enough, Sammy…” With that, Henry took him by the arm and began to guide him out of the room, planning to go the rest of their journey through the cycle together in order to find the solution and escape they desperately need.

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"Stitches"

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Day 6: Stitches

Always good to give a live Plushie a helping hand

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Day 5: Fallen

CW: Dead body, censored nudity, body horror, red ink that could possibly be mistaken for blood (Twisted Alice just laying on a mortuary bed. She isn't mutilated further besides the fatal wound Allison gave her in chapter 4, and her cleavage is covered mainly by her hands, which are crossed over her chest)

Fallen both in battle and in grace.

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Day 5: fallen

Fall (Fell; Fallen; Falling) (verb)

To suffer ruin, defeat, or failure

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Ink Demonth Day 3: Tragedy