#henry_batim

[scyrel]

Oh my god, the monster Bendy is hella-fun! This is my practice and exploration material.

Second to last Bendy is aggravated with Henry, not crazy, just protective. The bottom Bendy is savage.

[thatk9panda]

i got a style for Bendy’s Henry Stein, due to it being hard to draw a male body on the go, i will probably never draw him again. My thumb is too numb- *continues to draw another picture* I never learn. 

[scyrel]

Drawing Bendy is rather addictive. Also, been seeing other people creating their ideas of the human characters and monster Bendy, so I wanted to give it a shot. My interpretation of Henry wears glasses because my play-through was extremely blurry.

[scyrel]

Bendy in Toon Terror: Part 3

“The massive ink monster was also still; there were no more smaller ones to smash. The Thing turned it’s crooked horns and huge grin around slowly; from behind echoed a jazzy tune that bounced uncannily off the walls.”

An AU inspired by @shinyzango Written and Illustrated by myself. Now we’re getting somewhere!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO: Part 1 | CHAPTER TWO: Part 2

CHAPTER TWO: Part 3

    The massive Thing let loose a roar that rocked the very foundation of the building. It seemed irritated as it swatted the smaller monsters like flies. Having this creature looming over him, Henry quickly searched for an opening between where the base of the monster began and the other end of the hallway. If he could somehow slip by without making too much noise, he might have a chance. The old man crawled closer to the middle of the pool, slowly inching his way around the bubbling base of the Thing. The sudden appearance of this larger ink monster had scattered the smaller ones back into the woodwork, leaving one end of the hall open, but who knows what this one would do to him. Crawling on his hands and knees, Henry winced upon the feeling of a sharp object cut into the palm of his left hand, but refused to utter a sound. Getting to his feet, Henry moved slowly through the ink, trying to make as little sloshing sounds as possible. The blackness of the liquid tricked him and his foot accidentally bumped a block of wood hidden beneath the surface, causing another board resting against the wall to fall over, then SPLASH!

Henry stopped dead. It was like some horribly ironic cartoonish writing. Goosebumps prickled down his arms and neck, his face pale as a ghost as he turned. The massive ink monster was also still; there were no more smaller ones to smash. The Thing turned it’s crooked horns and huge grin around slowly; from behind echoed a jazzy tune that bounced uncannily off the walls. Having no legs, it turned itself within the small space by slapping a huge hand against the wall and pulling around to face him. Henry’s axe hand hung loosely by his side, his eyes deadlocked with the single dark eye that stared back with a most intense smile. There was only one possible way out of this one.

    A fifty-plus year old man sprinted with the speed of an athlete down the labyrinth-like corridors of the basement. Henry desperately searched for some place to hide quickly so that he might catch a break from the massive creature charging after him. He could only keep this pace up for so long; there was no way he could out run something moving that fast just by pulling itself forward by its hands. To Henry’s dismay, he came upon a dead end of the hallway, running right into an ink-drawn pentagram. Beside it, some candles had melted onto a shelf, illuminating this small corner of the hall enough to see. The shelf was full of Bacon Soup cans. Around the corner, the ink monster came barrelling through, looking as if it was about to bull rush the old man as it swung around.

Thinking fast, Henry dropped the axe and grabbed an armful of the soup cans, pitching them one at a time as hard as he could. They bounced off the monster’s shoulders, arms, and horns, but then one managed to hit it right in the middle of it’s head. To Henry’s surprise the monster skidded to a halt to block any more flying cans. It appeared as though it’s expression changed from grinning to discomfort. The creature shuddered and groaned, rubbing the middle of its face. It uttered a low moan that sounded like it was saying, “Ow.”

    Henry still held several cans of soup in his arms, but looked on in shock. Now that there was a little bit of light coming from behind him, he could see the Thing more clearly. Despite the creature’s mass, it shared an uncanny resemblance to someone he knew and; as he kept staring, around the middle of the chest, Henry spied a tattered and dangling white bowtie. “Oh my God. Bendy?” The black inky mass seemed to recognize the name.

 “H-H-...enry…” Bendy responded in a guttural growl that sounded like gurgling liquid. He saw the look on the old man’s face, it was scared, but of what? Bendy took a moment to gather his surroundings. Henry looked oddly small-ish, in fact, everything seemed a bit cramped. Sensing something was out of place, Bendy gazed down at a pair of huge black, ink-covered hands. He soon began to realize he was not a two dimensional drawing, but didn’t understand why he looked like this. The soup cans clattered and rolled around the floor, one touching Bendy’s finger. He drew it away quickly, the sensation felt odd. Henry moved closer to Bendy only to  maintain a slight distance for his own safety.

    “I’m... so, sorry… I didn’t realize it was you!” Henry ran ink stained fingers through his greying hair. Bendy felt a slight twinge in his face and put a hand to the spot where the can hit him. Pulling the hand away, ink glued itself and pulled off in strings before falling to the floor. Bendy looked back at Henry with uncertainty, wanting to ask him what happened, but when he started trying to speak the voice was all wrong and it felt mighty uncomfortable. Ink bubbled and issued from between his teeth. He started to notice many new sensations as he stood there hunched over in the hallway. Part of his body felt cold, but hot where the ink seemed to dance in globules. Noises and sounds didn’t travel through him like they did in his two dimensional plane. All around him swirled the smallest squeaks and groans from the wooden floors, Henry’s heavy breathing and the wet sound of ink swarming his body. The floorboards beneath him creaked from a heaviness that weighed over his hands; he wondered if he’d topple over by removing one of them. Growing overwhelmed, Bendy started to panic, becoming more aware of his unease in three dimensional space. The ink holding him together bubbled furiously for a moment before falling apart in huge chunks, collapsing to the ground. Henry automatically dove forward trying to catch him, but Bendy’s mass sunk to the floor and ran through Henry’s fingers and outstretched arms. The old man was on his knees now, nervously calling out to his friend. His hands searching the pool for something, anything! Then he felt it, the piece of paper lying underneath the dark pool. He grabbed it and pulled it out, hands tightly gripping both sides as he waited for the ink to slide off like before. His patience was rewarded; Bendy lay within his white frame once more, however, looking quite haggard.

     “BENDY!” Henry cried out with relief, letting a whoosh of air escape him. “I thought I’d lost you, Buddy!” Bendy was sprawled out on his back, smiling weakly at Henry’s words.

     “Did… did we get ‘em?” Bendy managed to speak. Henry chuckled with relief and nodded, biting his lower lip.

    “You did a good job, kid.” Bendy looked as if the comment would have made him blush red had he any color to fill his pale cheeks. When the little cartoon closed his eyes to rest, he wore a weary smile of satisfaction. Henry slumped down to the floor and fell back against the wall, his own body exhausted from running so hard. He held Bendy’s paper in his hands and watched the toon snoozing lightly; a few Zs floated and disappeared just above his head. Henry’s soft smile began to fade after sometime. His thoughts swirling with confusion as to how Bendy managed to climb out of his own dimension. He’d already cast reasoning to the wind recognizing that his cartoon was alive and breathing, but he hardly expected him to become a physical being. The creature that reached out to him back on the first floor, was that Bendy or someone else? Henry’s mind pondered these worrisome questions, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier as he sat there listening to Bendy’s soft whistling snooze. He clenched his left hand from a slight pain before letting it drop and then allowing his head to roll back and knock the wood.

    A funny tickling in his finger tips awoke the old man. Bendy was looking up at Henry with a troubled expression.

“Come on, Pops, wake up! I’ve been trying to get yer attention for the last several minutes.”

“Pops?” Started Henry. He laid Bendy down to adjust his glasses.

“LOOK!” Bendy pointed up to him, though the old man didn’t understand why. “What’s all over your hand?” Henry looked at them, both of which were covered in ink, but the left looked a tad darker and more oily.

“Ink?” He gave a yawn. Bendy’s brow furrowed.

“Wipe it off! I don’t like the looks of it.” He hadn’t thought Bendy to be so stern, but Henry attempted to find a less dirty spot on his pale blue ink-stained shirt to do as the cartoon said. Upon sticking it under his arm, Henry heard a squish. Pulling his left hand away from himself, it looked as if it were thickly covered in the substance, but one that didn’t want to come off. He wiggled his fingers, they felt tacky rubbing together.

    “Odd.” Henry muttered, attempting to wipe it off on his clothes again. Fresh ink smeared itself up and down over the crusted dried ink stains already on the front of his shirt, but none of it came off of his hand. Bendy looked even more disturbed. He was standing hunched over slightly with his gloved hands balled into fists at his side. For a moment Bendy’s head was turned down to the floor, shoulders shaking. Then the little cartoon lifted his head and Henry could see black tear drops of ink running down his face.

“The ink got you too!” Bendy fought to hold back sobs. Henry felt his heart drop from his chest, feeling panicked by the change of demeanor, but more worried for his friend. “This place is cursed, you shouldn’t have come here.”

“Bendy, what are you talking about?!” Henry grew exceedingly anxious. “What’s happening?” The little demon fell to his knees, gripping taut lines into the ground of his paper dimension.

    “I don’t know, but it’s that wicked machine’s fault! I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t tell anyone, I was just a cartoon!” Bendy sobbed. “I saw it, the ink, it’s got the devil in it! It took everyone left in the studio. It took Joey and Sammy Lawrence!” Henry quickly hushed Bendy’s sobbing by covering him slightly with his right hand and stroking the top of his head with his thumb. “I wanted to avoid touching that ink because something about it... it called out to me. You drew me with it and when I fell in…” Bendy hunched over and grabbed his arms, shivering. “I’m just like one of them. One of those horrible monsters that keep popping up everywhere.” He looked up to the old man, something about to burst from his chest. “Henry... I’ve betrayed you!”

Henry sat in silence, absorbing everything Bendy was saying to him. The little demon wrung his gloved hands so tightly, only to separate them to flick away numerous black inky tears.

    “I-I really don’t know much… but bringing ya here was part of the plan. I was supposed to lead ya to Sammy… I, didn’t think much of it until I met you, Henry. I was told lies, you were painted in a bad light.” Bendy pressed his fists against his head again and shook violently, “I don’t mean it Henry, I don’t! I hurt so bad about it, I wish I never met ya so you could be safe right now!” Pools of ink formed around Bendy’s knees, his head buried in his hands and bent over as small as he could make himself. He was waiting for the lightweight feel of his paper floating down to the floor and see the shadow of Henry’s heel grind him into the floorboards. “You were right from the get-go, I am a product of this sinister plot! You should do away with a demon like me, I’m just an ink stain!” Bendy’s voice was becoming muffled by the pool of ink in which his head was buried, bubbles formed around his mouth when he spoke.

“You’re still my toon. We all make mistakes, Kiddo. It’s part of growing up.” Bendy looked up from his pool of despair. Henry’s face wasn’t that of anger or disgust, it was still the same. Wise, a little weary, but very gentle. “I had a feeling that you weren’t telling me the whole story when I first met you, but you charmed me too. I still wanna to get outta here, but I’m not leaving you behind again.” Bendy’s eyes swelled and gushed large drops of ink down his face, his grin rising to meet his eyes. He gripped his black chest tightly,

    “Yer a real pal, Henry! The genuine article!” Bendy choked back his tears as best he could. Henry lifted Bendy up to the candlelight and smiled, the soft glow dancing off his features. A stab of pain in Henry’s left hand shot up his arm and made him flinch, he grunted. Henry examined his blackened left hand, wondering if he could find anything that could be stabbing the inside his palm. “Henry...” He looked back to Bendy, who was touching Henry’s thumb against the paper. The toon wore a look of fierce determination. “I can’t let this place have you too. I promise! I promise to protect you and get you outta here, cause you’re my animator!” He jabbed a thumb right underneath his bowtie.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Lets just keep moving and find ourselves an exit, okay?” Henry got up, holding his left hand on the empty shelf as he stood. An ink stain remained after removing his hand. Henry’s mouth twitched upon glancing back at it.

[scyrel]

A 2D-Bendy Illustrated Fanfiction

An AU of 2D Bendy, inspired by @shinyzango and @squigglydigglydoo. Written and hand-drawn by myself. Used mynoise.net’s poltergiest background audio for ambiance. Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO: Part 1

CHAPTER TWO: Part 2

    Bendy’s sheet of paper slowly slipped underneath the door jam, enough for him to poke his head out to check if the coast was clear. Hearing and seeing nothing, he popped back over to Henry’s side. “The goon is gone!” Henry took his chance to open the door, look around and then tip toe on out. They came to a room with a huge sign indicating that they’d reached the music department of the studio. Here, Henry remembered Sammy Lawrence, the music director. A bit odd to say the least. He was the quietest one on the team, but also the most likely to lash out. Henry was certain the poor guy had been suffering from some psychological conditions, but there was no doubt that he had a sensitive ear for music. Having hardly ever visited this  department, Henry took a moment to survey the room.

    A pair of speakers placed on either side of the sign started whistling a familiar tune. The beat was catchy; it was a ragtime beat coupled with the gentle tinkling of a piano. It started soft before growing steadily faster and louder. Henry could feel Bendy dancing within the piece of paper, but despite the tendency for Henry start tapping a foot, he felt there was something odd about the music. “Bendy, could you stop twitching for a second?” He lifted him up to see the little ink demon dancing a little jig to the swinging tune.

    “I can’t help myself!” Bendy grinned that iconic smile of his, cutting a rug like no one was watching. Guess it’s just part of my design!” He gave Henry a sly wink, but the old man was now focusing on what was happening on the floor. Ink seeped up from the floorboards into puddles dotted around the room and from those puddles arose horribly contorted shapes of inky black creatures. They had very small eyes, pupil-less white dots that were sunken into their melting faces and horrible gaping mouths that dragged only partly off the floor. These things rose above the floor about waist height and trudged towards Henry as if wading through thick mud. Those that grew too near began reaching out with their scrawny arms, clawing at the air. Bendy did a double take, seeing the axe in Henry’s right hand come down fast. He wasn’t even aware they were in danger because of the distracting music, but it held him in a jig that he couldn’t consciously break from. As the piano keys of the tune started to ring louder and more furiously, the creatures moved faster and horrible groans escaped from the pits of their throats.

    The axe slashed through the air and struck down the ink covered creatures with a vile SQUISH! While some of the monsters could be dealt with in one strike, others had already attempted reforming themselves after the first hit. Ink with the thickness of mud splattered over the walls, but the hoard didn’t stop. Henry had taken out at least a dozen of them, but there were still more reaching to grab his pants leg and shirt. Trapped in his dance, Bendy felt helpless. He could see the old man growing tired with every swing. If only he wasn’t stuck in this hapless jig. Wait. He wasn’t dancing until the catchy music had started. Henry was somewhat close to the speakers, and if they could get the music to stop, perhaps the creatures would too. Henry stood panting, axe in hand and bent over, looking exhausted. An ink pool appeared next to his foot, quickly followed by a black hand snapping itself around his ankle.

    “Henry, quick! Kill the music!” Bendy called out as the old man struggled with the creature, pulling its way out of the puddle using Henry’s leg. Looking behind, Henry located the speaker and kicked his leg hard enough to dislodge his attacker before pulling his arm back. The axe spun through the air with an impressive whooshing sound and hit one of the speakers straight through. Immediately, the strength of the creature around his leg weakened, turning mostly back into sludge and giving Henry the chance to retrieve his weapon. The hoard of inky sludge monsters still made their way towards him, but at a slow enough pace that allowed Henry to chop down the last speaker and smash it to bits. The room fell dead silent now and the pools of black ink dripped back under the floorboards. Both Henry and Bendy flopped down on the floor for a break, Henry leaning up against the sign for support while Bendy laid flat on his back; his little bow tie moving up and down.

    “What were those… things?” Henry asked after catching his breath. Bendy covered his face with his gloved hands, shaking his head. Henry’s hands trembled from the adrenaline and tried clasping them together to steady them before continuing on. Bendy took a moment to collect himself as well, watching Henry bend over and shake quietly, muttering something inaudible. He could feel a little of what the old man must be feeling. Recalling the eerie melody of the music sent a shiver throughout his body. Knowing that he was somehow connected to those horrible monstrosities troubled him deeply. Many thoughts swirled about his head; Who was he? Where did he actually come from? Was Bendy really conjured by the insane fellow living in the basement, or had Henry just given him some kind of life with a mere brush of a pen? Bendy covered the sides of his head, recalling something darker that had transpired before ever coming into contact with Henry. “Bendy!” The unhappy thoughts quickly disappeared as he looked up towards the old man’s softened face. “Let’s go, Kid. I can’t wait around for any more of those things to show up.” He could still feel light trembling in Henry’s hand once he grabbed the paper. This made Bendy only feel worse.

    Henry was moving as quietly as he could with the axe at the ready. Every darkened shadow made his heart beat faster. He crept cautiously around the recording room filled with empty chairs and dusty instruments. One of his vaguest memories came back to him, where he’d sat above the band for an old country tune the studio had been recording. He looked up in that very spot and staring back at him was a Bendy cutout and someone else. He stopped, staring straight at a darkly colored man, or, what seemed like a man, wearing a mask of Bendy’s face.

    “It’s him.” Henry heard Bendy hiss. There was no way of pretending he wasn’t there now, it was time to face the music. Henry pushed his fear aside, gathering up his courage to stand straight and make sure this strange fella knew he was capable of defending himself.

“Hey! Who are you?” He pointed the axe right at the stranger. The figure of the man seemed to stand in a silent blank trance. Henry asked again, more forcefully in tone. As if moving in his own time, the man began to lift his black arms up towards the sky very slowly.

“Me?” Replied the mysterious man. “I, am his Prophet, his shepherd to this accursed place.” Henry hardly understood a word of what the man was saying, but was desperately trying to place the voice.

“Sammy? Sammy Lawrence? Is that you?!” Henry shouted up to him. The man lowered his arms, seemingly unaware of Henry.

“No… no, no, no.” The head seemed to writhe on its shoulders. “I am the shepherd. My Lord has been confined in his prison for too long. He must be free, you will see…”

“What kind of bat-shit crazy nonsense are you talking about, Sammy! What happened to you?!” Henry’s worries began to eat at him again; there was no logical reasoning that could be done if this guy had truly gone insane. The man known as, Sammy, sniffed the air, darting his tongue between the broken cardboard teeth of the cutout.

“Dusty… so, filthy. I cannot sense him. His presence is hidden… why?” Sammy seemed troubled. “He must be weak… he must need sustenance.” The creepy mask flashed to look directly at Henry. “SHEEP!” He cried. “My Lord requires an offering to become strong and I need him to notice me. To notice me SET HIM FREE FROM HIS INKY PRISON!” His voice suddenly became very excited. “You will do nicely!” Sammy vanished quickly from the booth, shortly followed by rumbling within the room. Axe at the ready, Henry looked around wildly for those inky bastards. Bendy kept an eye out as well from his perspective.

“You know what he was babbling on about?” Henry asked over the groaning of the walls. Bendy had a feeling that he did, but refused to answer. Dwelling on dark thoughts stirred up something deep inside he wanted to forget.

    A new tune began to reverberate off the walls, echoing down the dark hallways. An icy chill shook Henry; he just knew what would happen next. The floor looked as if it were bleeding, black ink collected in pools that spread outwards, meeting up and linking with each other. Chairs and stands began to slide around as the substance pushed its way from under the floor. The ink creatures rose forth with their grotesque melting features. Looking like soulless blobs, they stretched their mouths down to the floor, as if wanting to swallow everything in their path. Bendy caught sight of the ink-covered floor and the wretched things arising from it. The blackness was like an ocean and he was terrified to be swallowed up; lost in a void of decay and rot. Looking at it made his head spin as eerie voices seemed to be whispering, tickling his ears with inaudible sentences. “Please, tuck me away, Henry.” Bendy pleaded in a quivering voice. “Don’t let me go...” Henry automatically tightened his thumb against the side of his index finger around the piece of paper, gripping the axe tightly in the other. Doing as Bendy asked, he carefully tucked him inside his front pocket so that only a small corner stuck out. Staring straight ahead with brows furrowed and determination in his eyes, the axe rose high above Henry’s head, paused for a second, then moved with the quickness of lightning.

The wedge met its first victim upon the top of its head and split the thick sludge into two gurgling pieces. Two more followed, only to be met with the axe tearing into their mucky forms. Henry felt himself moving away from his physical self and heavily focused on every single moving thing within the room. His senses acute, he could see five or so creatures to the left of his peripheral and heard the sickening blops of about six or seven of them coming from behind. The axe swung again, knocking down two of them at the same time. One came awfully close to grabbing at his ankle, to which Henry picked up a nearby chair and swung it as hard as he could. The ink creature and chair crashed against the wall, breaking the legs off and leaving a large ink stain. Henry tackled the oncoming hoard better than expected, their slow movements giving him enough time to maneuver and plan his attacks. If Sammy was watching, the lackluster performance of his creations would have set him on edge. Henry hadn’t been paying any mind to the music, but the sudden rise in tempo snapped him out of focus. It was about now that he found himself overwhelmed with the masses of blobby moaning ink monsters surrounding him. Having quickened their movements, it wasn’t as easy for Henry to move nor evade the swarm of outstretched arms ready to ensnare him.

    Bendy had been pressing his hands to his ears so hard that his head hurt. He was trying everything to block out the music. All the involuntary kicking he was doing shook the paper in Henry’s pocket. Different broken memories flashed through his mind: derelict scenery, broken and mutilated characters, anger and toxic black liquid that poured from the spout of the machine, choking him in darkness. Bendy coughed, feeling as though he was being strangled by a black sea. “HENRY!” Bendy cried out into the void. A dark wave rose up and curled over, within it he could hear it asking, “Why cry out for him?” The wave swept him up and the voice inside it deepened as it rolled, “The creator left us. Don’t fall for his lies!” Bendy was thrust under the strength of the wave crashing over him. Breaking the surface, he panted to catch his breath. “HE PROMISED!” Bendy shouted to no one. “I AM PART OF HENRY! I KNOW HE DIDN’T LIE!” He couldn’t clearly see anything, but could feel the waves rushing over him. The noise was like the roar of a storm, one that was currently raging inside. All he wanted was to go back to how things were, back to when things were simple, before that machine ever made its home in the building.

    Henry had managed to cut himself a path out of the music room and darted for the doorway. Hoping to reach higher ground, he sprinted back the way he’d come, but already too many creatures blocked his path and was forcing him a different hallway. He failed to see where he was going and stumbled into a wet flooded pool of ink. The walls were a bit narrow and bits of board and debris floated on the surface. Henry cried out desperately as newly materialized monsters grabbed his arms and shoulders, dragging him to his knees. He fought with them, swinging his axe wildly to cut himself free. He had heard Bendy cry out in his pocket and reached in to grab him. Raising Bendy’s paper as high as he could in the air, Henry desperately fought to keep the slick inky fingers from snatching it. Yet, with nowhere to place it; there was little that could be done as Henry became crushed under the weight of many hands attempting to drown him. Bendy watched motionless, horrified as Henry’s face became covered in sticky black ink; terror shook him. Suddenly, he realized he was falling, falling towards the black sea that yawned wide and ready to devour him. Bendy’s paper flipped in the air, then landed face-down in the pool, turning black and sunk into the depths. Henry still tried to reach for the paper, but was already fighting to keep his face from being shoved into the liquid. The background music sounded haunting with the chorus of moans emanating from dozens of ink zombies; he couldn’t believe this was how he would go.

    Henry closed his eyes and with the remaining bit of strength, tried to rise. Unbeknownst to him, the pressure on his shoulders and back has suddenly weakened. The hall shook, boards creaking as if something were pushing them outward. The ink just a few feet from Henry began to bubble furiously, momentarily stealing the attention of the hoard away from Henry’s shuddering body. A massive black shape emerged, with crookedly pointed horns and sporting a very familiar mischievous grin, half the ink dribbled down most of its face. Except for one large, dark eye, with a small glaring white pupil that narrowed itself on the creatures. The monstrous Thing’s head crashed against the low ceiling of the hall and its broad shoulders were grinding against the protesting walls. Frustrated with the space, it let out a horrible guttural roar that made the very room shake. Henry tensed up, fearing that the worst was yet to come and dared not to open his eyes. A thick hand swept over Henry with a low woosh and a heavy POW!, turning the creatures sitting on top of him into ink stains. With the pressure on his back released, Henry had a chance to turn his head and look above from his fetal position. Something dark and wet hovered over him, dripping ink onto his head and shoulders. The end of its body seemed to begin somewhere in the pool of ink, while the thick upper torso was supported by a huge forearm planted underneath it. The other arm was busy smashing ugly sludge monsters into puddles.

[scyrel]

A 2D Bendy Fanfiction

An AU of 2D Bendy, inspired by @squigglydigglydoo and @shinyzango. Written and illustrated by myself, accompanied by chocolate. Enjoy!

“Dear Henry,

It seems like a lifetime since we last worked on cartoons together. 30 years really slips away, doesn’t it?

If you’re back in town, come visit the old workshop.

There’s something I need to show you.

Your best pal,

Joey Drew”

CHAPTER ONE

   The old building looked dilapidated and unkempt from the outside. Peeling paint revealed the brick walls underneath. Cracks and graffiti could be found everywhere on the building and the large sign overhead reading, “J ey Drew  tud os” was stained with rust, dirt and hung dangerously loose on its tethers. Nearly every one of the windows were boarded up and covered with plywood. No one seemed to have ventured near this place in the last ten years, yet, there was Henry.

   He stood just outside the main entrance of the building, his greying hair moving softly from a light breeze, bringing him some comfort against the bright hot summer sun. Even though the parking lot was dried, cracked and dull, the heat still rose up, dampening the back of his blue collared shirt. When Henry first came to work here as an animator, he was at the young age of 18. Soft spoken and a bit nervous, he grew to love and admire everyone he’d met working with Joey Drew. Joey himself was a boisterous man, very likeable and took his rising business and its employees seriously. He was one of Henry’s good friends at the time and the same person who helped the young boy get started. Despite the few great years Henry spent at the studio, he had been forced to leave after being drafted. During that time, however, something had happened to Joey and the cartoons were never the same. Perhaps, he simply got squelched by the popularity of larger animation studios. Henry hadn’t heard from ol’ Joey in a long time, nor any of his other comrades from that wonderful time back then. He was both excited and surprised to receive this letter.

The front door opened with ease, nothing attempted to block him from entering, but still Henry moved cautiously.

    “Hello…?” He called out to the dimly lit hallway filled with dust. Maybe Joey was on a different level of the building, there were two floors after all. Listening intently, he heard no footsteps, even after calling out louder a second time, there was still nothing. A small grin tugged at the left side of Henry’s cheek. Whether Joey was currently here or not, there was no reason not to check out the old stomping grounds. Closing the front door gently, he proceeded down the hall.

   A funny thought came to him as he walked. His hands had been searching for a switch to brighten the place up, but they needn’t do so as the large room he walked into was also lit enough for him to see. To his surprise, a projector was running blank reels against the wall and a slight grinding of cogs echoed in another room.

“Hey, Joey! Where ya’ at?” Only the ambient sounds continued their rhythmic vibrations. “Guess he just stepped out for a bit.” Henry scratched the back of his head. At first he hadn’t been looking forward to walking into a stuffy boarded up building, but he found the room to be at a very comfortably cool temperature. He looked over to the blank projector, spying a large cutout of what he felt was an old friend. “Hey there, buddy.” Henry looked upon the smiling Devil Darlin’ he and Joey created once upon a time. “Still cheery as ever, yet ya’ got a twinkle of mischief in your eye.” He missed working on Bendy, his friend Boris and the lovely Alice. He had animated all of them at one point or another and each character he felt was apart of him. It was years of hard and sometimes stressful work, but it was a labor of love. Henry smiled back at the cutout, raised his arms with a slight curl of his fingers and bobbed up and down, imitating the dancing movements he had once animated.

   There was still no sign of Joey or anyone else while Henry walked around the first floor. He’d tried different studio doors and closets, but most of them were locked. Upon finding his desk, Henry was far more excited than any man in their 50s should be. “There’s still paper here?!” His desk seemed to have been left alone during his absence, but yet, there was still a collection of paper seemingly waiting for him to decorate. Another Bendy cutout smiled at him from just behind his desk. “Oh, hey!” Henry chuckled, “You following me? Must be pretty lonely here.” He stared at the cutout for a moment before his eyes traveled back to his desk. There was an ink bottle and pen just underneath the tabletop. Henry raised a brow, “Did Joey leave this for me?” He thought. No matter, it was blank paper just asking to have something drawn on it and Henry couldn’t help himself. He looked over to Bendy, pursed his lips, then moved back to his sheet of paper. It was a very simple drawing, but drawing Bendy was surprisingly almost second nature to him, even after such a long time. The little devil stood triumphant with his gloved hands against his hips. Henry chuckled, thinking of something to add, but the sound of a falling object broke his attention.

“Joey?” Henry called out, getting up a slowly from his hard wooden chair. He rubbed his lower back as he left the room. His friend still did not appear to be around, but Henry did find the source of the disruption. A strange black book had fallen from an empty shelf onto the floor. He didn’t like the looks of it, nor the uncomfortable feeling it gave him from reading the title. Looking down another hallway, he’d realized there was another area he hadn’t even explored.

   Something about this area of the building felt darker and the smell of paper and ink saturated the air even under the years of caking dust. Henry had forgotten he still held onto the black book. His focus now shifted to a large machine that almost looked like it could have once been conceptualized by a cartoon. A big glass container with a black substance labeled with the word “Ink”, was slapped on it in large clumsy letters. On the other side of the container was something like a nozzle, but no hose to fit such an opening. This bizarre machine wasn’t around when he used to work here, but it didn’t look like it helped the business much. This thing had spat ink EVERYWHERE. There was dried ink all over the place near the machine, as well as splatters on the walls and near the tubing that transported copious amounts of the black liquid into other rooms. It looked like some cartoon horror show. “Jeeze, Joey, what have you been up to?” Henry muttered, scratching his head.

   He followed the tubes down the hall, passing another desk partially tucked in the corner of two connecting hallways. Another Bendy grinned at him from the wall with a large gear near his foot. This time Henry felt somewhat concerned. He knew Joey loved the Bendy cartoon they had created, but hadn’t they made any other cartoons during operation? It was odd to see so many images of him placed throughout the studio, it was almost like they were watching him. Henry made his way to a room full of pedestals and the pump activator. Behind each pedestal was an image of some item he had glanced at wandering the building. One showcasing the black book in his hands reminded him it was still there. He placed it on the pedestal. Something seemed to moan in the distance. The wooden boards of the building sounded as if they were shifting. “This is getting a little too weird for me.” Henry felt a prickle along his arms. It was about now that he realized that despite how unkempt the outside and the inside of the building looked, there wasn’t even a sliver of that intense afternoon sunlight peeking in. Loose floor boards and crumbling plaster didn’t even reveal a hole leading to the outside world, only blackness. Henry waived his hands nervously in the air behind him as he skirted out of the room, only to be startled by a cutout nearly hitting him in the face. “WHOA!” Henry backed up a step. How did this even get here, let alone be able to stand up by itself. He moved around the cutout, watching it closely as he moved back down the hall from whence he came. Just to make sure, he poked his head back around the door frame to see if it moved. It hadn’t, yet.

   Making his way back to the entrance, Henry felt bad for wanting to leave without seeing Joey, but this place was giving him the heebie-jeebies something awful. He paused a moment to turn back to his desk and considered removing any signs that he was there. Upon gazing at his desk, there was something odd about his little ink drawing. Bendy wasn’t standing triumphantly, but rather, he was looking mischievous with his little gloved hand rubbing the underside of his chin. The devil’s brow was raised at Henry and looked as though he was waiting for the old man to notice something. Henry was sure he drew the drawing differently, yet there it stood in this pose instead. Picking it up, Henry took another close look at it. The ink was well absorbed into the paper now, he must just be getting old. Henry winced at the thought. Stuffing the little drawing into his front pocket, he moved to put the ink bottle and pen back where he found them under the table.

“No, not there.” Henry thought he heard a voice and stopped. He stood up with the ink bottle in hand. It was the same one as the image in that creepy room. He sighed. Having been through worse, there was nothing he need be afraid of here in this empty studio. He half wondered why his feet carried him back through the dimly lit room covered with Bendys, only to come to the hall where the one cutout tried landing a jump-scare on him. Maybe that was only in his mind too, for there was no sign of that cutout now. Placing the second item on the pedestal, Henry gazed around the room at the different items labeled on the wall. Whatever it was Joey wanted to show him, perhaps doing this odd task was it and then he’d see this wonderful thing that was in store for him.

   Other than the the ink well and the strange Bible Henry managed to collect earlier, he had gathered a vinyl record, a Bendy doll, and the large cog, which he’d all properly placed on their pedestals, but the wrench remained hidden. He took another hard look through all the rooms in which he’d found the other items, but still no wrench. On his way back towards the creepy room, a voice seemed to say, “LEFT”. The darkest room down the hall looked even less appealing. As he got closer, Henry could see that mere candles were illuminating the room, but there was also something metallic glinting off the tiny light source. Upon stepping over the threshold, the hairs on the back of Henry’s head rose and he stopped dead in his tracks. On a slate, bound and raised up to meet him, was a full-sized Boris. Boris the Wolf, from the cartoons, exactly how he was modeled on his character sheets, like someone just pulled him off the paper. “Jeeze-O-Pete!” Exclaimed Henry, stuffing his hands in his pockets trying to control the tremors. “It’s just a mannequin model, it’s just a mannequin model…” Henry mumbled nervously to himself, rolling from the balls of his foot to his heels. Taking a deep breath, he managed to ease up enough to reach out and grab the wrench lodged in Boris’ open chest cavity. “What a sick joke.” He grumbled. “Boris never did a mean thing to nobody.” His first thought was that some awful neighborhood kids pulled this off as a prank, but if that were the case, there would be more signs of typical vandalism. The worst part of the whole image was the fact it appeared as if the Boris mannequin had become sacrifice for something heinous. On the wall was inscribed, “Who's laughing now?” Henry backed out of the room fast, keeping his eye out for any funny business that might occur. Slamming down the last item with a clang, Henry turned to the lever. The sign glowed: PRESSURE LOW.

   He knew where to find the button for fixing that, though was perplexed as to why it was hidden out of the way and so far from the main power source. Upon hitting the button with the side of his fist, a pressurized hiss resounded from somewhere in the ceiling and walls around him. They now seemed to throb from the large tubes snaking in and out with pressurized ink. “Turning that thing on might’ve been a terrible idea. Where’s the ink supposed to go? All over the floor?” Henry stared at the slow moving cartoon of Bendy dancing haphazardly from the projector. “There’s absolutely no life in that.” Henry could’ve sworn he heard a disembodied chuckle, but really didn’t feel like rooting out the source this time. Again, back to the main power switch and this time the sign read: READY.

   Flipping the switch gave way to a whole new sound echoing throughout the building. It was a soft rumbling of cogs and fluid moving quickly, rattling the wooden planks of the floor boards. Henry waited a moment, seeing nothing of interest or change and then headed out. He turned a corner down the hall towards the exit when he heard something behind him. For a brief second, it looked like one of those Bendy cutouts had just ducked out of sight behind the wall. That’s when he noticed the Ink Machine room was suddenly boarded up as if it had been that way for years. Henry furrowed his brow, walking back over to take a peek inside. It sure sounded like that ink he turned on was splattering all over the floor. Peering between the boards, he could briefly see that the floor was becoming flooded with black ink. To his horror, something disfigured rose forth from the rising pool of black liquid, reeling its oddly shaped head around to face Henry. An enormous grin, stretched ear to ear on it’s melting face and black elongated fingers, reached out towards him. It gurgled and screamed all at once, causing Henry to stagger backwards and scramble hurriedly as ink pooled under the blockade and slithered after him.

   Poor Henry felt the walls closing in on every side, the ink quickly saturating the walls and floors, catching up to him so fast he realized he was ankle deep in pure charcoal black ink, sucking in his shoes with a sickening BLOP.

“Run, run, run… he’s a comin’!”   A voice sang out in an old timey tune from somewhere nearby.

   Henry sped down the hall towards the exit as if he was still in his 30s, the gurgling horror not far behind. He grasped for the doorknob. Just an inch or so away and he would be bathed in bright sunlight again and find that this was all some crazy dream. No, his hand never made it to the doorknob; instead, he was falling down, down, down. Lights flickered from nowhere as he dropped, the blackness of the ink blocking out the light above.

[scyrel]

A 2D-Bendy Illustrated Fanfiction

Inspired by @squigglydigglydoo and @shinyzango, Written and hand-drawn by myself. Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER 2: Part 1

    Henry lay square on his back, looking up at a deep tunnel of flickering lights above; ink droplets stung his face. He let out a loud sigh, afraid to move, thinking a fall like this could have seriously broken his back. Henry stayed there a moment longer, contemplating his options.

    “That last step sure was a doozy, eh?” Squeaked a little voice out of the blue. Henry’s eyes darted around, trying to find this familiar disembodied voice that he’d been hearing. The voice became impatient, “Are ya just gonna lie there all day or are we gonna get going? Can’t say now’s the best time for a nap!” This made Henry sit up, not realizing his back didn’t even protest at the speed in which he moved.

    “Who’s there?” He growled in an exhausted tone. “Come on out, I’ve heard your little voice all day and I don’t have time for this!” There was a clear snap like a pair of fingers clicking together; the little paper in his front pocket trembled.

    “In here, Chief!” Henry fumbled for the paper sticking out of his pocket, pulling it out to look at the little Bendy drawing. The old man couldn’t believe his eyes, the doodle started to move. Performing a quick smear before his big key action, Bendy dropped low on the page and then jumped up, waving his gloved hands and shaking his little head and tongue. “BOOOO!” He shouted, almost giving Henry a heart attack. Startled, Henry dropped the paper onto the ink stained floor. He must have really hit his head this time. He sprang up, rubbing his face vigorously and smearing ink up and down his cheeks and brow.

    “Ey, DOC! Don’t leave me down here!” Bendy pleaded, “I promise not to spook ya again, just get me off the floor!” Henry looked down to see the living doodle trying to avoid the dark spots of ink seeping into his little frame. When Henry picked up the paper, Bendy twisted his hands behind his back and rose a little foot, cocking his head to look at Henry in a most charmingly cartoonish way. “Gee, thanks! You’re a real pal!” Said the little devil. The dark ink blots seemed to fade away from the paper as Henry held it.

    “How’s… this possible?” Henry asked, turning the paper over and sideways in his hands. Bendy protested, his body bouncing along the edges of his invisible white box.

    “Whoa there! Don’t you see this is my space? Yer throwin’ me around too much!” He wrinkled up a pair of black sleeves against his black arms, throwing up his dukes and puffing out his chest. “How’d ya like it if I gave ya good wallop, huh?” The inky demon hopped around like some silly bird displaying a mighty dance.

“Alright, alright. Take it easy there.” Henry gestured a stopping motion with his hand. Bendy stopped his fighting dance to bring his legs at attention, arms folded and face sporting a heavy scowl. “I’m a bit nervous, okay? Being trapped in the studio is not what I expected to happen to me today. Also, I’m not accustomed to my drawing’s animating themselves…” Bendy softened his face and took a little bow.

    “And it’s a nice new design of me too, thank you!” Henry made a light chuckle, this was quite surreal. Bendy stood back up and snapped his little fingers again, the paper trembled. “Look there, Buddy! You might wanna take that axe on the wall. I spied it when you dropped me on the floor!” Henry looked over and lifted the dusty thing off its plaque. In front of him was a door heavily boarded up with wood. “Chop, chop! There’s no exit in this room!” Bendy whistled, clapping his gloves together. In his left hand, Henry held a talking doodle of Bendy and in the other a small wooden handled axe. If there had been a mirror in the room, he would have a chance to see if he looked as crazy as he felt.

THUNK, THUNK, THUNK!

The axe came down heavily on the planks of wood blocking his path.

    “Gee, you got a real swingin’ arm there!” Bendy cheered him on. Henry skillfully kept his hits centered with each strike and pulled away any board fragments that may be in the way.

    “Well, when you’re as old as me, you pick up a few things.” Henry opened the door and made his way down the long stairwell into the basement. The wooden boards protested with each step and the air seemed to get a little thicker and cooler as he descended. “How deep does this place go?” Concern was coming through Henry’s voice. “I could’ve sworn there was a small basement we kept the music department in, but this many floors down seems ridiculous.”

    “Can’t really tell ya.” Replied Bendy. “Most of my eyes are upstairs. I can see some stuff down there, but not so much.” Henry thought a moment.

    “So you really were watching me through all those cutouts. That’s creepy, kid.” Bendy giggled.

    “I liked your dance.”

    Henry opened the door he thought was the entry to the basement and stopped before entering half-way into the room. A black pentagram scrawled in ink was on the floorboards, surrounded by candles and two coffins. His heart skipped a beat.

    “What– what’s going on down here…?” He struggled to get the words out. Bendy’s smile wavered only slightly.

    “Looks like someone’s been a bit of a busy-body!” Bendy appeared unphased.

    “Shit.” The little demon was suddenly taken aback. Sweat beaded above Henry’s brow, his eyes darting side to side, waiting for something to come out and jump him. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” Henry’s voice was beginning to shake. He brought Bendy up to his face, frustration and fear etched into the weight of his brows and the corners of his mouth. “Do you have ANY idea about what’s going on here? The letter from Joey, the fact I’m talking to a toon right now, this–… this… ritual crap?!” Bendy’s black eyes seemed to shrink till the majority of his face appeared to be white; a little sweaty ink bead dripped down his forehead. The toothy smile on his face seemed uncertain whether it should move up or down. “Tell me I’m crazy…” Henry’s face fell in defeat. He was trying way too hard to understand his predicament.

“You’re… crazy?” Bendy raised a doubtful finger, not sure where to input some comedic humor. It came off incredibly awkward and more so when Henry made no facial expression. The little demon cleared his throat, pretending to fiddle with his bowtie. “Tough crowd.” He thought.

    Henry threw up his arms suddenly, waiving poor Bendy and his axe like a madman. “I’ve LOST my mind! This has got to be a dream right? So if anyone’s going to jump out at me, do it NOW! PLEASE! I am too old for this!!” He strode into the room with the pentagram and jumped up and down on the graffiti. The old man didn’t notice the rumbling surrounding him.

    “Hey! LOOK OUT!” He heard the little voice of Bendy cry out, but not in enough time before something hard knocked Henry squarely in the back of his head.

    Everything was foggy for a moment; the pain in his head seared the back of his skull, rippling forward into his eye sockets. A weird flavor sat on his tongue, iron mixed with something else familiar. Henry spat a mix of blood and ink to the floor. Reaching back to the tender spot on his head, his hand pulled away with blood.

    “You okay?” Came the little familiar voice.

    “Oh, it’s you.” Henry groaned, “I’d hoped that hit would’ve knocked some sense into me.” He chuckled slightly upon getting up, readjusting his glasses. He walked back towards the stairs, just hoping that maybe there was some kind of exit back the way he came. To his dismay, the entire stairwell had collapsed from the weight of the ink pouring from the machine upstairs. It dribbled and pooled under the swollen planks of wood. Henry said nothing as he passed Bendy’s piece of paper lying near the coffin on the floor. He picked up the axe, throwing it over his shoulder.

    “Where ya goin’? Bendy asked. Henry’s hand was gripped around the knob of another door. He paused.

    “This is really happening isn’t it?” He spoke in a low resolute tone. “You really are alive on that piece of paper… talking to me.” Henry turned to look down at the paper. His face showing his age. Bendy stared back from his sitting position, his grin now a small dot on his face.

    “That I am.” Getting up, he was like a perfectly animated cartoon of Henry’s, all on his own. Henry sighed, then bent down next to the cartoon.

    “Well, seeing as I wasn’t fully understanding of what transpired, let me properly introduce myself. Name’s Henry; I used to work here as an animator when I was a young lad. Me and Joey both had a hand in coming up with you and your little friends when the company got started.” He gently placed a finger against the paper near Bendy’s gloved hand. The little demon looked at the finger a second, then back up at Henry. In one unimaginable moment, two worlds came together as creator and creation. The old man could feel a slight contact with the paper from Bendy’s gloved hand touching him back.

    “Bendy… Bendy the Dancing Demon. But… you already knew that.” The little devil replied with a genuine smile and look of awe. He plopped down on a thin line just under his shoes as Henry picked the paper up off the floor.

    “I know you don’t want to be cooped up here any more than I do, so lets find us an exit.” Henry smiled.

They descended even deeper into the basement, but this time it appeared as if the rooms were a little brighter from all the candles glowing within. The hair prickled along Henry’s arms and neck again, seeing the Bendy cutout next to what looked like a makeshift altar using a shelf. All around them the walls groaned; the sound of steady dripping could be heard somewhere in the ceiling. Looking through the rest of the room, there was another set of coffins and pentagram nearby.

    “Okay,... those coffins. Who’s in them and are they ritual offerings? Henry faced Bendy towards what he was seeing.

    “Um… I’m not really sure. I don’t really like looking at those.” Bendy tried to shy away from the sight. Henry walked quietly around the room, making sure no one was waiting around the corner.

    “All these pentagrams look like summoning circles. Are you part of any of this or a byproduct?” The look the little devil gave him seemed like he recoiled at the word. “What I mean to say is, when did you become conscious? You weren’t jumping off the page on your own while we were still making the shows.” The little demon shook his head.

    “I dunno. Funny thing is, I have flashbacks of moments of a time when… I think you and the studio were still in operation. The attention meant everything to me. I didn’t realize then as much as I feel it now, but I knew people were watching me. It’s like, going from observing everything mindlessly and then suddenly… poof! I can think for myself!” Henry could see an actual white sparkle twinkle on the side of Bendy’s eyes. A squeaking noise above forced Henry to pick up his pace and get farther from the room with the coffins. “Henry?” The old man looked down at Bendy sitting on his thinly drawn line. The demon’s face was more serious than before. “Why did you leave us?” Just before them, the phrase, “The Creator Lied to Us”, was scrawled hastily in ink along the wall. Henry’s mouth fell agape. Bendy’s posture looked like that of a child trying to understand. He twirled the tips of his fingers together in his lap.

    “Bendy...–I, I went off to serve. I didn’t want to leave.” Sudden footsteps that didn’t belong to Henry seemed to draw near. Running to the nearest door, Henry hurriedly jiggled the knob, but it was locked. He moved towards another until Bendy directed him to an unlocked door on the other side of the hall. He slipped in and closed it quickly, holding his breath to listen to the footfalls pass by. The little room in which he hid was crammed with a tiny desk covered in papers, a small old radio and a tall, but thin cabinet full of Joey’s attempt at promoting a line of Bacon Soup using Bendy’s face. The footsteps passed the door and down the hall, but Henry wanted to wait until he could hear them no more. He looked down at the desk where Bendy sat quietly on the edge of the paper. He appeared to be deep in thought. “Something on your mind kiddo?”

“Did... you want to come back?” Bendy spoke almost too softly for Henry to catch. The old animator thought about this one a moment, pulling out the wooden chair as quietly as possible and settling down.

    “I would have loved to.” Henry began. “But, times changed. I suppose you don’t completely understand the business in which we work.” Bendy shook his head, yet seemed afraid to look directly at the old man. He drew his legs closer to his chest. “You see,” began Henry. “There’s a big difference between the folks who do the creative work, versus those who strictly run the business. If those guys on top don’t get enough money, the creative fellows struggle to continue what they love doing.”

    “Then… Joey was one of them?” Henry paused. “I remember, something about the liveliness of this place. It... started to die, my world, everything I loved, ...crumbled and decayed.” Bendy’s little frame began to droop. “There was a lot of yelling, anger... rushed shows that made us look and feel… crummy. Like we weren’t our true selves anymore. Then, people started to disappear. Everything simply stopped. We were abandoned.” Bendy hid his face from view. Henry couldn’t believe how innocent his character sounded. Then again, Bendy was designed with children in mind. Had the toon existed in three-dimensional space, he would have patted the little fellow on the head.

    “I’m sorry.” Henry spoke after a time. “I never really thought about how fragile life can be, especially for a cartoon, where all you’ve known has been drawn within strict limitations.” Henry noticed Bendy seemed to be either crying, or melting. Ink was slipping off his body into a pool underneath him. Concerned, Henry moved his index finger over to the demon’s shoulder and tapped on it gently. “Hey now, don’t melt on me, Buddy. I’m sorry things were so rough, but if you help me, we can both get outta here. You’re my toon, after all, you got a little bit of me inside of you.”  Bendy turned his head, the dripping ink receding back into his body. The little cartoon wore a look of astonishment.

    “I have some of you… inside of me?” Henry gave him a soft smile and the little demon’s face brightened. “And, you promise to take me with you?” His hands clasped together, looking like a little black angel.

    “As long as you can help me get out of here, yeah.” Bendy’s eyes widened with excitement.