ithemyso

[ithemyso]

Btw I am alive, I just have no idea what to post.

[ithemyso]

That'd be *checks notes* BATIM x BATDR.

I think they're making a new game about my AU, actually

combine your first real fandom with your current one to create a terrible, terrible au

[ithemyso]

"Nooooo you can't like that character! They're a demon, you'll be tempted into sin! 🥺"

Well if they didn't want me to sin, then WHY did they give them a WAIST I can wrap my HANDS around, huh?????

[ithemyso]

Me when others are mildly mean to my favorite characters: No!! They did nothing to deserve this!! Stop!! 🥺🥺🥺

Me with my favorite characters: hm. What sort of Horrors shall I force thee to experience today?

[ithemyso]

A list of my BATIM + BATDR headcanons that ignore all canon, in no particular order (which will be added onto later):

GENT sent in people to work on the ink machine, but that team also included a doctor, some chefs, a few artsy folks, and plenty others of varying skillsets that ended up staying at JDS permanently.

Before it was called Joey Drew Studios, the studio was named Sillyvision (it didn't change until well after Bendy cartoons took off in popularity).

The real life studio was originally around 3 times the size of the area we see in chapter 1, but it expanded rapidly after it became successful.

There were a LOT of people working in Heavenly Toys. They probably even had an assembly line in the later years.

While Bendy cartoons were what made JDS famous to begin with, they had a few other series as well, and plenty of standalone shorts too. It was the latter which the initial Bendy show started out as, and from there it grew into JDS' bread and butter.

Bendy and Boris had voice actors, both of whom were supposedly fairly good friends with Susie Campbell and Sammy Lawrence due to the nature of their work. Nothing else is known (or remembered) about them.

Henry's favorite cartoon that he made was Boris.

Norman Polk and Thomas Connor were both black. Allison Pendle was Asian-American.

Sammy was the first to be infected by the ink, but wasn't the first to die by it.

Audrey Drew looks almost exactly like her father, but her hair is thicker and curlier than his, she's taller, and her face has a slightly different shape.

Joey Drew keeps a copy of the real life Ink Machine in a closet in his apartment. It's just the top part we see in Chapter 1 of BATIM, but a bit smaller. Nonetheless, it contains a path to the Cycle, which he can manage from his own home.

And finally: the entirity of the games would have been avoided had Linda caught wind of what was going on (she would've straight up killed Joey, and not a soul would've breathed a word about it to the cops)

[ithemyso]

Idk anything about BATDR lore, but if the real Henry is still alive and BATDR takes place sometime in the 70s or 80s, then could Audrey and the Ink Demon theoretically meet Henry?

Please tell me my headcanon of Audrey and the Ink Demon moving in with an older Henry and Linda is canon y'all please I need this to be true

[ithemyso]

Like to charge, reblog to cast ♡

Reposted from here because I simply had to

[ithemyso]

THE CREATURE 💥💥💥

[ithemyso]

see, sirens wouldn't be able to lure me in with songs about sex (probably), but if they offered to let me pet an octopus they'd probably get me to do a swan dive into the ocean 99 times out of 100

Hmmm I know octopuses are generally sweet and gentle and are just curious sea puppies (and I love them!), that being said, the thoughts of being dragged by my feet by one of them into the deep and dark ocean is… safe to say new fear has been unlocked

Source

[ithemyso]

"Joey, I told you, for the last time: Get that THING out of my office! It's hideous!"

"Sammy, now just calm do-"

"That's Mr. Lawrence to you!"

Henry sighed as the voices down the hall floated past him, rolling his eyes as the thick, humid air delivered the familiar sounds of yet another argument directly to his ears. Attempting to work despite the ruckus, he picked up his pen, refilled it from the inkwell to his right, and resumed inking the cartoon cel propped up on his desk before him.

At least, until he heard a discontented rumble from above him, the weight on top of his head shifting slightly as the scratchy burlap he'd draped over his head to protect from ink stains rubbed against his chin.

Trying to catch sight of the cause in the reflection of the still-drying ink in front of him, Henry huffed another, much fonder, breath of air.

"We can go do something else after this. All right?"

From where he had made the artist's head into a chin rest, Bendy let out a quiet whine, a glob of ink slipping from his forehead and landing amongst several others on the sack Henry had draped over himself with a squelchy plop.

Reaching up momentarily to affectionately scratch between Bendy's horns, Henry ruminated for what must have been the thousandth time on whether or not he really should have stuck around this long. Whether or not this was worth sticking around for.

It had started six months ago. Admittedly, Henry had long disliked the Ink Machine, seeing it as a very bad (and possibly sacreligious, but he had no room for that accusation considering what cartoons he animated) idea, not unlike most of Joey's. So when Joey had promised it would change their lives forever, Henry had just written it off as another half-baked scheme that would land the studio in debt, courtesy of the mind of Mr. Drew himself.

So imagine his surpise when it did exactly what Joey said it would. Sort of.

He'd listened to Joey babble on and on about "alpha subjects" and "further testing", recognizing a rare, true spark of passion in the man's eyes. They'd had the conversation in the other's office, the newborn Bendy curled up on the floor sleeping.

He wasn't perfect, Joey had claimed, but he could be.

Something in Henry told him Joey was wrong. Again.

So after Joey had gone home for the night, the animator called his wife to let her know he'd be late getting home and spent the first night of Bendy's life with him in Artist's Rest.

After that, it was almost like having a near seven-foot, 350 pound toddler following him like a lost duckling around the studio. Most of his coworkers weren't happy about the newest addition, but due to Henry being both the lead animator and Drew's best friend, they learned early on to keep their mouths shut.

The not so little devil darling even proved useful. He was able to reach high shelves, find lost objects, and ward off chatty associates with his presence alone all at the same time. All he seemed to want in return was affection and the occasional can of bacon soup. Granted, the dripping ink could get annoying, but a few sacks from the toy department draped over his shoulders whenever the demon took it upon himself to get up close and personal mostly solved that problem.

Another whine from above was enough to snap Henry out of his reverie, Bendy growing more impatient by the second as Henry sat and seemingly did nothing.

"Fine, you win. I wanted to get some coffee anyway; come on, I'll make you something too."

Bendy, who had recently learned that he'd get a cup of warm milk every time Henry got coffee, quickly backed up to let Henry stand.

"You know," the artist chuckled, back crackling as he stretched it after getting up, "I should ask Joey about taking you home for the night sometime. Linda'll like you, and I think you'd like the cat since you're so similar. Whaddya say?"

How many of his words Bendy could understand was unknown to Henry, but from the happy tapping of his feet in response Henry could only assume he heard the words "taking you with me" and was pleased to hear them.

"You might not look exactly like you do in the 'toons, but you sure act like it," Henry chuckled, already shuffling towards the break room.

"Come on, let's see of we can find something to drink."

Wordlessly, the demon followed, grinning as they left the desk and its unfinished work behind.

(A.N.: I did it! Again! I actually wrote a thing! This one is, admittedly, completely self-indulgent and somewhat based on my VERY early (think summer of 2018 early) headcanon that Henry took the Ink Demon home after the events of BATIM. Though I guess it's more of an AU now, lol. I also headcanoned that the Ink Demon was allowed to roam for a while and interact with the studio employees before Joey locked them away, so when I saw this post, inspiration struck and I churned this out in an hour. Lmk if there are any typos, and I will see you after I get some more sleep. Bye!)

I love the idea that Ink Bendy was probably somewhat like a pet wanting affection when he was first created. Like people could be discussing how wrong he looked and probably referring to him as an “it” or “creature” instead of giving him respect, but he had absolutely no comprehension of their words so he was blissfully oblivious to it; he would get reeeeal up close to people and curiously shove his head into their business when they would work on things, or nudge them for pets and positive attention without realizing how much it bothered them. Keep in mind he’s slightly taller than the average man with a large head and is significantly heavier and made of wet ink, so he would leave a mess and be a literal physical burden. I love that idea and I want to use it.

[ithemyso]

Several days late but happy birthday to the funny cartoon horror game. It radically and permanently altered the trajectory of my life, causing emotional and mental changes and epiphanies that will never be undone. This game had become a part of me, and I owe who I am today a great deal to it.

Happy eight years, Bendy and the Ink Machine.

[ithemyso]

It wouldn't be so bad, he thinks, if the apartment were meant for someone who could not walk more than ten feet at a time.

His very modest home, which has begun to feel more and more like a prison every day to him, was built like all others as per the standard: tight halls, steps, and no railings anywhere to grasp. He'd bought it years ago, when money was tight and his legs were still serviceable. Over time, however, his ability to walk has slowly deteriorated (though sadly his poor financial situation has not). Thus, he has had to become creative.

Chairs, those are his solution. Initially only one or two placed strategically around the apartment to allow him a moment's rest as he struggled from room to room, but later he added two. Then five. Then twenty, until there was one in every corner and doorway. They're a poor replacement for his dilapidated, hospital-issued wheelchair that sits in the shadows of his bedroom collecting dust, but they're all he has.

It's not in one of these that he sits today, however. Today is spent in the armchair, perched in front of a decade-old box television that works a solid quarter of the time. It's made of leather, secondhand and worn in the seat and arms. It might've been shiny once, but use and neglect have left it, like everything else he owns, dull and cracked. It smells, too- like dust and damp drywall and for some reason, ink.

He really does not like that last scent.

The living room (an oxymoron if there ever was one) consists almost entirely of objects from the relative prime of his life three decades ago. Photos and posters line the walls, cartoons with pie-cut eyes and piano-key grins beam from the paper with expressions that are neither mocking nor sympathetic. Full of pure apathy, just like their owner. Beneath, there is an artist's easel, surface covered in sketchy storyboards for a show he couldn't remember the name of. He had been so sure it'd be a success, so excited to show someone. But it is much harder to get a show off the ground, he'd found, when you have no one to make it happen but yourself. The rest of the room is empty, from what he can see.

The cataracts in his eyes (that he can't afford to have treated. Just like his arthritis, it would seem) don't allow him to see beyond ten feet. Not clearly, anyway. Loss of both driving ability and personal autonomy it has caused him aside, the condition means he cannot actually see most of the room from his armchair. He can only focus on what's near.

Like the picture to his right.

It looks like a still from a cartoon. A smiling imp stands in the middle, grinning merrily up at his angel and wolf friends as they return from a picnic. It's a saccharine sweet still, likely from the ending of a longer cartoon. The faces of the characters are familiar, but aside from knowing they're the same ones from the posters on the walls, they're unknown to him.

It's signed, too. By someone named Henry Stein.

Try as he might, though, Joey can't remember for the life of him who that could be.

___

(A.N.: Ayyyy. Finally wrote something! It's short, but I did it. Also, disclaimer: I am not physically disabled, so I don't really know how accurate this all is. I tried my best, but if you are disabled and you think I did something wrong, please let me know! Anyways, I'm gonna go sleep now. Bye!)

Bendy and The Burned Bridges

Been thinking about how it would’ve been interesting to see Joey Drew be properly explored. He’s just this absolutely dog shit guy who is responsible for a majority of his and everyone else’s problems, and I don’t think I’ve seen enough content of Joey just sitting alone in his apartment, surrounded by the memories of a past he can’t let go of, little trinkets of an obscure cartoon that was popular back when his liver still functioned properly and his entire body didn’t ache like hell. He’s essentially a nobody. Barely anybody knows his name, and those who do left him a long time ago, are a single “friend” who only contacts him to ask him to buy the rights to his decades old cartoon characters to reboot them, or are dead in the ground.

I wanna see someone write that. Just the story of a miserable, old bastard wasting away in an armchair while he stares longingly into a past he is starting to forget as his mind goes.

[ithemyso]

god I love sketchbook pages that have all their space used. this page speaks to me it's so pretty ♡

oh my, finally the quality is bettet. i already forgot why i draw so many random characters on one page, but its fine.. ( the red, like, really red girl is my oc! her name is Eve :) 4/5

[ithemyso]

I wonder if the studio is alive. Do the walls shift and expand like lungs? Are the ink pipes its veins, running back to its mechanical heart? Is the well of souls its stomach? The halls its intestines as it slowly breaks down those inside? Is the entrance its mouth? Does it feel? Think? Hurt, with every board and floor and elevator broken?

Is it a person, too?

[ithemyso]

Hot take the Ink Demon would've been scarier with rubberhose limbs. I love the bony, lanky frame they have now of course, but the ability to bend themself in realistically impossible ways would've been horrifying to watch.

Imagine you have just leaped a fairly large gap to safety, knowing the demon behind you can't get you now. You breathe a sigh of relief.

And then you see their hand, creaking like an old rubber glove as it stretches across the bottomless chasm towards you, leaving the demon grinning right where you left them.

[ithemyso]

I love you Irene Adler they could never make me hate the original girlboss

[ithemyso]

Sometimes I wonder whether or not Gerald really considered Shadow to be his son. If so, the idea of Shadow's full name being Shadow Robotnik is hilaruous to think about.