#BTE headcannon

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Tumblr Girls

‘Don’t make fun of us Tumblr girls because we are the ones that will change you’

Matt Jackson X fem Reader

Main Masterlist Matt Jackson Masterlist

Word count: 515

I felt my stomach drop as I heard the words leave Matt’s lips “Hey, this is for all the chicks on Tumblr. I know what you’re doing” How the fuck did he know about that? I had been friends with the Elite for many many years and being a tumblr girlie myself I knew exactly what he was talking about. I had been using tumblr since its existence in 2007, around the same time I met Nick and Matt. I like many had spent years using it for ‘educational purposes’.  

I read the filthy fics about my friends in secret. Some made me laugh, others I used as a distraction. I used them to pretend. It was no secret that I had feelings towards Matt but of course he wanted nothing to do with me. Tumblr feeding into my delusions. I always made sure to keep it a secret, they didn’t need to know the rated r things that were said about them online. 

From what I thought they were oblivious, I guess I was wrong. How did he know? It bothered me. I felt like I had gotten caught. I kept thinking about it the whole night, not knowing how to approach Matt about the situation. 

After Matt and Nick’s match on rampage I thought it would be a good time to ask. I invited myself into their locker room and sat on the couch. Trying to figure out what exactly it was I was going to say. I guess Nick could feel the tension in the room because he made up a random excuse, leaving me and Matt in the room, alone. “How do you know?” I didn’t want the foreplay, I just got to the point. I needed to know. “Know what?” Matt replied, acting all innocent like he didn’t  know what I was referring to. “You know what I’m talking about Matthew” I told him with a bit of an unintentional edge in my voice. “I know everything sweetheart,” said Matt. 

This is worse than I initially thought. “Well Matthew, you shouldn't make fun of us Tumblr girls because we are the ones that will change you. Tumblr chicks are the best you will ever have” The words left my mouth in a seductive tone, growing closer to the Jackson that sat in front of me. By the time I finished talking I was right in front of him. Looking down I could see that my words affected him. The two of us never broke eye contact, only getting distracted when we heard Kenny’s entrance music around the arena. “You see Matt, he may be a god in the ring but I am a god in the sheets. I’ve learnt all my tips and tricks from Tumblr. You see I still don’t know how you know or more importantly how much you know but you should give us a try. You will never be the same” 

With that I left, I had almost made it out of the room when I heard Matt call out “How bout you show me then?” 

[sultryfandoms]

Headcannon Time!

“My Favorite Boys” (Being The Young Bucks' Little Sister and she's dating Henry Cavill)

Matt and Nick are very overprotective people with their loved ones and more especially with their little sister; you.

So when your older brothers had found about the actor Henry Cavill dating their little sister, their protectiveness went into overdrive because they don't want you to get your heartbroken;

Though sometimes their protectiveness gets annoying to you.

"He's not the one for you Y/N" Nick and Matt would often say about your boyfriend.

"How would y'all know? You haven't even met Henry yet! He makes me happy, I love him and he loves me! The main reason why I don't let you meet him is because of your overprotective asses!" You spat out in frustration and that made them stop badmouthing Henry.

Meanwhile, Henry wants to meet them, to let Matt and Nick know how much he loves you.

"I don't think it's that bad love, I want to meet your brothers, I want to befriend them and prove to them that I will never ever hurt you" he smiled and kissed your forehead

As soon as they met; after all the "hurt her and we'll kill you" threats are out of the way;

The three of them were literally inseparable.

Matt and Nick made him a member of the Elite, to the amusement of Kenny and Hangman (and to Brandon's jealousy, he literally thinks that Henry is his replacement)

He often appears in their BTE vlogs

Matt and Nick also offered to train Henry to wrestle

And in turn Henry introduces them to the world of Warhammer, becoming closer than ever.

Heck, Kal is even The Elite's new mascot.

"And yet I thought you both hate him, nowadays he spends more time with you guys than me!" You joke

"He's a cool guy! And Nick and I know that you'll be happy with him (Y/N/N)." Matt spoke

"I'm a lot happier now that all of my favorite boys get along."

Feel free to lmk if you wanna be on my upcoming taglist ❤️

[blametheeditor]

Backstories: Eggs Benedict

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of murder, death, experiments on living people

Please take note this is not suitable for everyone.

Disclaimer: The world and characters used in the story are owned solely by Scott Cawthon. We own nothing but the writing.

Please give credit to those who deserve it. Thank you.

And down into the darkest depths we go...

___________________________________

“Welcome, Eggs Benedict.” 

“Yep, that’s my name. I, Eggs Benedict, are a humanized breakfast dish!” 

“We do not appreciate sarcasm in this establishment. If you proceed to use this form of communication-” 

“You’ll shock me using the badge I have pinned to my shirt, yada, yada, yada. Do it already, will ya?” Eggs grins, though tense as he prepares for the pain to come. 

The blonde man was hired three weeks ago to work at Circus Baby’s Entertainment and Rental for ‘janitorial duties’. He didn’t expect a lot when he was hired, and without so much as an interview, but the place was more out of whack than he could possibly imagine. 

Animatronics that sure seemed like they wanted to kill you. Technicians here and there getting hanged inside the different rooms. Needing to shock said animatronics in order to do his job...a whole lot more of that kind of bullshit. 

Speaking of shocks...

"FUCK!” Eggs exclaims as his, might he add, HandUnit electrocutes him.

On his first week the mechanic only got shocked due to him being hesitant about ‘administering a controlled shock to properly motivate the animatronics’. Lately, however, the AI has gotten at tad too power happy with the technology. 

Now him and the animatronics were all in the same boat. Forced to come down to the living hell disguised as a workshop for repairs deep underground at night to get shocked at least once. 

“Proceed to the primary control module.” 

“On it, Sadistic Disembodied Voice,” the man salutes before carefully kneeling down and crawling into the vent to get to where he needs to go. 

Thanks to his extremely tiny frame and nimble body he never has to worry about getting stuck inside of the vent openings. Though crawling through said vents wouldn’t be needed per say if they fixed the yellow caution taped hallway. But hey, who was he to complain when it’s his job to use it every single night… 

With a grunt of pain he stands up after entering the primary control module. As HandUnit tells him he needs to check on Ballora, the janitor sighs at seeing a certain form not on the stage. 

“Uh-oh. It looks like Ballora doesn’t feel like dancing.” HandUnit supplies. 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Eggs smirks. He waits for a moment until he gets a controlled shock of his own. Once it passes he then shocks the ballerina, breathing out relieved at seeing her back on stage after only one shock. 

“Excellent. Ballora is feeling like her old self ag-” 

“Or you’re just a bastard who wants to shock the poor animatronics to get kicks out of your shitty life.” Another shock, this time without a warning. “Dude! Tell a guy next time you pull shit like that!" 

“Let’s check on FuntimeFoxy,” is all that's said in favor of ignoring Eggs’ comment for the mistreatment. The blonde man glares and flickers on the light for Funtime Auditorium, unable to help a smile at seeing the white and pink fox pressed up right against the window. 

“Eggs!” she exclaims. 

“Hey Foxster. How are you tonight?” 

“I’m good! I got to see sooooo many kids today! They were all so excited and it was awesome!” 

“I’m really glad to hear that. Now, are you gonna go on your stage or are we both gonna get zapped?” 

“I’ll go,” FuntimeFoxy whines. Eggs grins when she disappears from view and allows the light to turn off so HandUnit can see she’s on stage. 

“Great job FuntimeFoxy. We knew we could count on you!” the AI appraises. 

“Do the noise!” she calls as Eggs listens to the assignment of checking on Baby. 

Or, should be listening, but instead was making hand puppet movements to everything being said. 

“Again?” 

“YES!” 

“Don’t encourage her,” Ballora announces. Eggs smirks as he turns to the other window, bringing his flashlight out so he can actually see her figure still dancing on the stage. 

“You mean to say you don't like the noise?” Eggs teases, hand reaching out ‘threateningly’ out to make FuntimeFoxy’s dreams come true. 

The animatronic lets out a sighing noise as she shakes her head fondly. Grinning at the ‘okay’, he then presses the nose to the weird clown head sitting on the desk, eliciting a weird laughing noise into the silent air. 

“Thanks Eggs!” FuntimeFoxy grins. 

“Anytime.” The man offers a smile to Ballora before crawling through the vent to Baby’s gallery. 

Fingers crossed to not have to deal with anything weird tonight, his tiny form appears inside the small module 'over looking' Circus Baby's auditorium. Really it could just be standing over a giant ass cliff with the chance of breaking even more and sending him to his doom, but okay! Whatever you say Handy! 

Mostly he doesn't really mind crawling in and helping with Baby's weird sense of humor. Her bidybabs coming over and attempting to get under the desk where he hides always makes his job a lot more exciting, but tonight he just really wanted to watch his favorite TV show and sleep until ten o’clock pm. 

Sixteen hours of sleep. One of the greatest choices ever made by Eggs Benedict. 

“Heya Baby! How are you today!” the mechanic greets. She doesn’t answer though and the man flickers on the light, cursing when it still doesn’t illuminate Baby’s stage so he can actually see if she’s there or not. 

Or, if said area was a cliff... 

“Great job Circus Baby! We knew we could count on you,” HandUnit announces. The blonde man let’s out a breath at not having to fend off any of the little bidybads who just love to torture him on certain nights, but he wished Baby would talk to him more. 

Out of all of the animatronics, Baby was more like HandUnit. She would speak if she wanted to, but if Eggs said anything or simply greet her, she would never return the words. It got irritating to say the least, especially when he didn’t know why she didn’t like him. 

Or maybe that’s how she always was. He'd much rather if she wasn't such a little bitch about it, though. 

“Please leave using the vent behind you, and we will see you tomorrow.” 

“Alright then. See you tomorrow Baby!” With that he ducks down to shimmy back to the center module, jumping to a stand with a bright smile. “See you guys tomorrow! Don’t get into trouble without me!” 

“See you again, Mr. Benedict,” Ballora smiles. Eggs returns it in full and ducks down to crawl back into the vents leading into the elevator. 

Problem was, the goddamn vent was closed. 

“Uh, Handy? What’s up with the, you know? Vent to go home?” 

“There seems to be a power malfunction that is affecting our ability to allow you to leave. Please stand by while I reboot the systems.” 

“WHAT!” 

“What’s wrong Eggs?” FuntimeFoxy questions, the sound of her approaching the glass alerting the human she was watching with curiosity. 

“Oh! I, uh, just left something back in Ballora’s auditorium. I’ll need to grab it,” Eggs responds, swallowing thickly when he realizes he has to go into her room. And after that, straight into Freddy’s. 

Now don't get him wrong, he loves the animatronics. Half his life building machines he's learned to treat them kindly and respect them, especially with how advanced the one's owned by William Afton himself. 

He might not think they're alive, necessarily, but he held them in a place in his heart and shocked himself whenever he has to administer a shock to them. The thing is, he only has that kind of 'love' and 'compassion' when they’re behind glass. As soon as that’s gone though, all the respect he's earned is out the window, him only being a new target ripe for the killing. 

Fuck whatever everyone else said of ‘being completely safe'. FuntimeFreddy personally told him Eggs wouldn't see the light of day in the coming week. 

“Can you leave something in here too!” the fox questions, tail wagging happily. 

...he's going to pretend it's because she doesn't want to kill him. As much as a lie that seemed. 

But he couldn't break her whatever-is-a-heart-to-them. “Maybe tomorrow, Foxster.” 

“Okay!” With that she leaves, but it doesn’t make Eggs feel any better. 

FuntimeFoxy was harder than Ballora to stay away from, her movements of attacking easily triggered if he shines the light too much or too less at the wrong time. Compared to the ballerina animatronic only activated by sound, the fox animatronic was a little bitch. 

“Thank you for your patience, it seems the power system-” 

“FUCK YOU!” For once the HandUnit falls silent, leaving without a shock as Eggs shuffles toward Ballora’s gallery vent. 

“Fuck me!" 

Without another word, and of course without a reassurance the ballerina animatronic will not hurt him in any way, the mechanic disappeared into the vent, crawling into the darkness with nothing more than a flashlight and a bitching little HandUnit. 

"Fuck, me." 

___________________________________________________

Fun Fact: FuntimeFoxy requesting the nose made is the one JackSepticEye loves to make every single time he’s in the main room when he recorded himself playing ‘Sister Location’. Cracked us up every time he made the motion along with it.

[vip3r-r]

Okay Imagine

Fatui agent: Mirror Maiden

Anon: yk the hydro fatui maiden or something from Inazuma? imagine some cute headcannons w her >< bte its 100% if u dont wanna do it :D

A/n; I love the mirror maiden, she’s like so hot… the voice tho- I thought it was someone else 👋😭 This anon is now my favorite, thank you and goodbye.

Warning; non just spelling errors

Mirror Maiden had the most serious face when you told her you loved her

“Sure…but keep it professional darling, I don’t need any of the harbingers to know”

And walking way like the elegant lady she is

But inside she was dying of happiness

It’s her personality let me tell you

She acts all serious and uninterested in literally anything but deep inside she’s happy (if it’s about you)

She likes to take you shopping, she #1 with anything related with fashion

Not only because it’s fun but she has an excuse to show you off to people :)

She adores when you wake up in the morning to help her do her hair

She has pretty long hair so it’s annoying to do it by herself every morning when she can do other stuff

This is when you come in

You help her do her hair while she put her makeup on

When she’s all done and ready to leave, she’ll give you a gentle hug and a kiss and when she’s far enough for you not to see her

She will smile and *happy Mirror Maiden noises* she thinks you are the most adorable thing ever

How lucky she is…

Whenever she’s back from a long mission she likes to tell you all about it

To many beautiful places she would like to go with you to how childe got zip zap by lightning

Anyway

Tall woman 6’ft

Little spoon

She likes it when your the one hugging her

Makes her feel special and free, she’s no longer the Mirror Maiden

[heelbucks]

s-sadist dom!kenny headcannons when you've been teasing and embarassing him in front of the bucks, perhaps?

you already know that being a brat to kenny isn’t always the best idea. sure, he’s very caring and doting on you, but when he’s in that sadistic headspace, it’s best to be his good little kitten.

this being said, sometimes you have fun “annoying” him. should you have done it in front of matt and nick? probably not

the boys were hanging out, going over upcoming bte bits and planning matches, but you wanted nothing more than kenny’s attention.

you come strolling out into the living room in a cute little skirt and crop top. “hi mattie, hi nicky.” you smile bouncing over to your boyfriend, who was curious of what you had planned.

you sat down in kenny’s lap. “hi daddy.” you kissed his cheek quickly. matt and kenny knew about your dynamic with kenny, they knew practically everything about each other. didn’t mean they wouldn’t giggle.

kenny’s jaw clenched. “hi kitten, what’s up?” he adjusted you on his lap, as you giggled. “jus’ missed you. got bored.” you “innocently” moved your head into his neck and whispered “need your big cock in me.”

the next hour was spent with you teasing him, and he finally had enough. he pulled your head back by your hair and practically growled, “kitten, don’t think i won’t put you over my knee in front of them right now. you’re gonna get it later. behave.”

[blametheeditor]

Backstories: David Harrison

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of murder, death, mentions of technically wanting someone dead.

Please take note this is not suitable for everyone.

Disclaimer: The world and characters used in the story are owned solely by Scott Cawthon. We own nothing but the writing.

Please give credit to those who deserve it. Thank you.

The classiest and yet the worse person alive.

______________________________________

The desk before him never seemed more perfect for banging his head against until now. 

...actually, that was a lie. Because, for some inexplicable reason, his newest assignment made by his employer has him working with not just the standard idiots of their society, but all of them. 

He can barely get anything done. Who knew the dumbasses he's had the absolute pleasure of never meeting in a million years all manage to end up in the children's industry. Not only that, but the restaurant industry as well. 

And, whoop-dee-fucking-doo, this is the industry his greatest client needs him knee deep inside of. Especially considering the impossibleness of what said client is asking for. 

"I SAID SHUT UP!" 

"Mr. Harrison!" 

The business man glares daggers toward the voice, not at all surprised by the sight of Happy The Frog looking at him with wide eyes. 

Now that was something interesting, possibly even an almost enjoyable part of his time working under William Afton in the mission to bring the name of Freddy Fazbear's out of the ashes. 

Which, if he really thought about it, made his client both a madman and a complete idiot. 

Five children were murdered. One child lost their entire frontal lobe. Disappearances of children once occurred left and right. Unsanitary conditions. Animatronics failing. Giving up and excepting his fate toward the richest man alive was seeming more and more appealing compared to gaining a five star rating, A+ in safety, and the complete erase of everything that has ever happened in any other restaurant. 

And, well, just to add to the insanity, each vendor that was approved tended to have a...liability risk. 

So much for A+ in safety. 

"Mr. Harrison! Please don't yell!" Happy exclaims, finally earning the restaurant owner's attention once more. Forcing him to remember why the hell he zoned out on such a tangent in the first place. 

“Happy, I don’t care how loud I’m being! Make everyone stop being complete morons and then we’ll talk!” 

“We did give you a few options for employees, Mr. Harrison!" 

Those eyes that should not be capable of lighting up as if excited glance over his desk. And before he can yell at the advanced technology touching his things, a hand or pad or whatever the fuck it has only pulls out an unfamiliar file from under the different papers. 

"What the fuck is this?" 

"Well," the frog begins, fucking bouncing in place like a little kid would. A human kid. Seriously this was messed up. How did it know to do all of these? And, perform a task of collecting 'unidiotic employees'. He was pretty sure they were never given that specific of programming. 

"Mr. Hippo heard you firing someone and noticed you're getting a little low on staff, so Orville went through and scanned the database to see if anyone inside Freddy Fazbear's working under a different restaurant had any qualities you'd like! Of course I went through and made sure they looked nice enough to work here." 

David nods slowly as he thumbs through the different resumes that had been placed inside the plain folder, photos placed with them as well, something he has to beg to usually get. Finally someone who actually listened. 

He almost forgot this was just an animatronic talking to him. 

"You might be given five minutes of me not screaming my goddamn head off." 

Again, that smile should not be possible. What kind of bastard designs them to express so many emotions? Nice job with attracting children but fuck is that kind of shit creepy. 

"Let us know if we can do anything else!" Happy cheers before bouncing out of the office once more, laughing as a few children immediately pull on her to play with them. 

David shakes his head and rolls his eyes before grabbing a few of the profiles. And considering they already worked under William Afton and simply inside a different restaurant, he can more than easily twist someone's ankle to get exactly what he wants. Especially when he was shameful to admit these were, in fact, incredibly qualified and probably less idiotic than those he's hired before. 

Greg Haust. Strong, determined, a total suck up, but he seems like the day guard he could use. 

Dakota Brackner. Excellent waitress, not so good with kids, but a dream toward boys in the older age categories. 

Alexis Mannor. Weird last name, motivated, young, great with memorizing and cooking. 

Fritz Smith. Short, a literally puppy, but the greatest employee one could have, even a few coding skills. 

Tanner Reeds. A little wimpy, a giant pushover, also a bit OCD, amazing in the kitchen. 

Mike Sch- 

David's blood freezes as his mind latches onto the strange and familiar last name. One he's practically had shoved down his throat in all the research he's had to do to open this god forsaken place. And the first name...it can't be possible. 

The business man tears open his drawer holding everything he could possibly have that actually seemed to have appeared on his desk after taking William's offer for this job. The files he's been told never to share or let anyone know he does, in fact, have more information regarding Freddy Fazbear's than even those 'second in command' of helping run the business as a whole. 

One turn of the page and a young, happy, and in one piece Mike Schmidt smiles up at him. Further down and he's gifted with that once joyful little ray of sunshine having his entire head wrapped in gauze. 

1987. Said to have been bit by his favorite animatronic. 

Twenty years later and watching over the same machine that ruined his entire life. 

...and as a night guard. 

And unlike the literal morons of this world, he knew the job was literally a death sentence. The animatronics needed to 'roam free' at night. And that allowed anyone smart enough to use this excuse and stop anyone from taking a paycheck home with them at the end of the week. Why not use robots capable of ending people's lives to keep from giving money away when they don't even deserve the ground they walk on? Call him a psychopath, but he called it business. 

David can't help but smirk at the irony, however. This fucked up little night guard signing up to get murdered. Good riddance considering he went back to the very thing that almost killed him. Sure his reviews are pretty good when it comes to having stopped a burglary, but seriously, they can do without him. And he won't have to even wait until the end of the week considering- 

"NO! HOW HAS HE SURVIVED FOR TWO MONTHS!”

[blametheeditor]

Backstories: Caleb White

Warnings: Mentions of murder, death, the concept of being hunted down, people watching someone’s potential death as if for entertainment. Mentions of experimenting on living people.

Please take note this is not suitable for everyone.

Disclaimer: The world and characters used in the story are owned solely by Scott Cawthon. We own nothing but the writing.

Please give credit to those who deserve it. Thank you.

When you mean to not to, yet chase everyone away.

____________________________________________

"The experiment is going even better than I could ever hope. He's quick, motivated. Surprised he hasn't slipped on his excessive amount of tears, though." A sound of uncontrollable laughter. "You find that funny?" 

"He just seems useful in many ways, sir." 

"That's true." 

"And, I'm just imagining your incredible restraint to not-" 

The figure clothed in darkness suddenly snaps his fingers, forcing the sound of impending death to suddenly disappear. The feeling of eyes watching their every move vanishes as well. As if never there. 

"Enjoying my little gift, are you?" 

"Of course! And, I mean, said gift only happened to make sure you are safe." 

Laughter fills the small space, genuine instead of the cruel sound seeming to always be emitted every time something is found 'joyful'. And instead of a glare toward the obvious enjoyment of the pain caused, the abuse over the little 'gift' being used, all that's returned is a beaming smile. 

A beaming smile slowly turning insane by the second. 

"Always interesting allowing you to speak." 

"I'll make sure to keep it up, then. Wouldn't want to disappoint you, sir." 

A nod and the two finally turn back to the screens illuminating the pitch black space. 

They should be horrified by what they see. Disgusted something like this was allowed to occur. Panicked and frantic in a way to try and stop it. 

The little boy never deserved a fate like this. Never deserved to be pushed to the limits. To fend for his life at only seven years old. Shown what death is and watch it creeping closer. Used as entertainment. Chased by the real monsters under the bed. Fending them off with only a flashlight. 

Crawling. Flashing. Opening. Closing. Waiting. Crawling. Turning. Flashing. Turning. Pleading. 

As if his life was only a game. And with a game, a good old fashioned villain always making him cry buckets and buckets of tears. A good old fashioned one that was his older brother, with his younger sister about to join in on the fun. 

"Well. Two months and barely surviving. And you've already modified their intelligence? Made them more hostile. Added the newest player." 

"They were more than excited to be upgraded, sir." 

Another eye roll. Yet another oddly structured sentence. As if the animatronics were alive. Real. With a mind of their own. 

But it didn't matter. As long as that insanity allowed the murdering spree to continue undeterred, he wasn't complaining. 

"We're leaving him to it then. Dead within a week. Well then! Let's get out of this stupid office. Always hated it down here." 

The screens are turned off, leaving the currently sobbing and begging little boy to fend off his nightmares come to life on his own. Without anyone to help him. To believe him. To care. 

They won't even care when he's killed, just the memory of sobbing silently while pleading for everyone to leave him alone. 

Leave him alone, with his plush Fredbear to hug. 

Please. Someone. Help me. 

[blametheeditor]

Backstories: James Stiller

Slight mentions of GORE

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of murder, death, the concept of child-friendly machines wanting to kill people, descriptions of how someone will kill another person.

Please take note this is not suitable for everyone.

Disclaimer: The world and characters used in the story are owned solely by Scott Cawthon. We own nothing but the writing.

Please give credit to those who deserve it. Thank you.

There’s always a nerd in the group.

________

"Why do you never scream?" 

"Is there a reason to?" 

James Stiller looks up to find the one animatronic he was in charge of leaning against the right side of the window, half out of sight yet posing a strong silhouette. 

Usually he'd be interested in just how the rotting bunny could even function. The robot hunted him down for hours on end, sending hallucinations of all things at its next victim. Not only that, but the busted, clearly barely functioning animatronic was acting like the coolest guy in high school, acting like a human would. 

And it spoke. 

But that's why the ever curious man forced himself to stay put inside his chair and simply talk. Because while that voice was the one of impossibility, it was also the voice of pain. 

"Every one else screams. Don't really need a reason to." 

The animatronic shrugs before leaning away from where the man sat. 

James can't help but lean forward, only to scowl as yet another nightmarish form of Chica the Chicken from Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria lunges toward him. 

But as was stated, there was no scream. Simply the speeding of his heart before it dies away as quickly as it started. 

"Dude. Having a Heart-To-Heart, here." 

"A what-to-what?" 

James shrugs before turning back to his 'maintenance' tablet, quickly making sure everything was rebooted. Not because the one animatronic wanting to murder him and leave his body on the ground as some sort of prop for the horror attraction. No, he was fearful of the fire hazard. Especially in a place like this a single spark could turn into a roaring flame capable of latching onto anything that held a trace of capability to house it along with a source of oxygen to- 

"You know. Heart-To-Heart," the night guard begins, looking back up to see the animatronic hasn't moved a single muscle. "You talk about feelings, I listen. Then I talk about feelings and you-" 

"Rip your spine out from your throat before grinding it into dust along with your windpipe as well before you dye of blood loss?" 

"Actually, the loss of my spine would certainly kill me. Not only are my nerves needed for basic functions of life connected to it, but my brain would be overridden by so much pain being revived upon the information given it'd simply clock out maybe a few seconds in. Not to mention your paw is bigger than my throat so that wouldn't end well." 

James hesitates as he looks at the ceiling, attempting to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. Once it was settled he didn't leave out any piece of information, his gaze lands back on his 'coworker'. 

Only to raise an eyebrow to see that silver gaze looking right back at him. 

"Did you just disprove my method of killing you?" the animatronic questions, something that could only be identified as a smirk slowly etching itself onto his face. 

James winks as he taps the 'restart system', waving a hand to the air. 

"Hey. You can't kill me if your gonna do it all wrong. Just disrespectful, man." 

There's no answer to that, those eyes simply watching the human. 

They both knew James' life could end right there. The animatronic was faster, stronger. There was absolutely no way he'd be able to get out of this alive. There shouldn't be a way to get out of this alive. 

"You think I've earned your respect?" 

"I hope I have," the man replies earnestly. "I don't expect that I have. I don't know that I have. But you have to admit, surviving a week and a half with you chasing after me is quite a feat." 

The animatronic grunts at that, looking away before bobbing its head side to side. 

"Maybe. Maybe." 

James smiles knowingly before leaning forward excitedly, eyes alight with curiosity as the need for a Heart-To-Heart passes. 

Now he can finally ask questions. And believe him when he's said it's been killing him. He needed to know. 

"Why are you still active? Why are you down here? Do you want to be repaired? Do you actually enjoy being like this? Why are you faster than any animatronic I've studied? Who created you? Was is Henry or Afton? What about-?" 

The animatronic stares at the constant stream of questions pouring out of the human before him. 

If he didn't know any better, he'd think he broke the guy. But as much as he didn't want to admit it, he did understand his newest night guard. As weird, silent, and so annoyingly calm as he was, 'Stiller' was more than he seemed. 

"-can I get your name?" 

James smiles as that seems to bring the bunny back into the real world, though just as eager for an answer. 

"Springtrap." 

"I like Corpse better." 

There was a smile. An actual, true smile. One that hasn't seen the light in over twenty years. 

"Looks like I have one?" Springtrap questions, ever so slowly moving away from the wall. 

He sees the human tense up for a moment, still watching him to make sure the animatronic won't kill him suddenly. They might've had an interesting interaction, but nothing promised a free pass from getting slaughtered without a though. 

"I did when I first saw you," James admits, sitting back when the bunny, when Springtrap doesn't attempt to dash into the room. 

"You have rotting fur that behaves a lot like human flesh. Your cords look an awful like human veins, especially stained the dark color of dried blood. Your endoskeleton teeth seem to be hiding real teeth, which means a skull could be assumed as well. Not to mention the way you hold yourself, as if carrying something." 

The man then returns the smile back in full. 

"But, I realized I was wrong. You don't have a body decaying inside you." 

"Yet." 

Springtrap allows a demonic laugh to emit as he turns back to the other hallway, missing the thoughtful expression given at the ominous statement. His footsteps fade away, however, showing his victim will be given a 'fair' shot at surviving. 

"I didn't find your talk unpleasant." 

"I didn't find it exciting, either." 

James grins wickedly at the quiet thumps suddenly halting, a strange hiss echoing through the halls. 

Gotcha. 

"I might be killing you sooner than I thought!" 

"Better hurry, Corpse! Or else I'll win that bet!" 

...I actually hope you do.

[blametheeditor]

Backstories: Vincent Wright

NOT SUITABLE FOR EVERYONE

GORE, DEATH SCENE, MURDER SCENE

BLOOD, DEATH OF CHILDREN

Warnings: A death/murder scene described with gore, though not excessive, violence. Five children being murder. Someone praising for the deed done.

We do not mean to be insensitive nor take anything lightly. There are themes in this story not fit for everyone and is centered around dark ideas. Take note immediately after the ‘keep reading’ there are descriptions of blood and gore.

Disclaimer: The world and characters used in the story are owned solely by Scott Cawthon. We own nothing but the writing.

Please give credit to those who deserve it. Thank you.

The start of it all.

______________

"...cent." 

The knife held in his hand. The five standing before him. Their fearful yet hopeful tears. 

"Vin..." 

The blade slicing across their throats. Plunging into their chest. Carving out the heart, the spine. 

"Vincent." 

Blood flung across the room. Scaling up the walls and onto the ceiling. The entire area painted as if a mural was needed. 

A dark, disturbing mural that was painted with the blade of a common kitchen knife, and the life-giving blood from innocent children who pleaded for mercy. 

"Vincent!" 

The young man finally allows reality to snap back into place, finally looking over himself, over the damage he had done. 

Panting, quivering where he stands with a single knife gripped with both hands. A body lying directly in front of him, the face etched in terror from the pain they experienced. Another body leaning against the wall, nearly severed in half. Two are then seen slumped against each other, as if supporting their sibling even through death. And the last one, sprawled across the floor directly in front of the door... 

…staring up at the man in a maroon suit soaking the scene in. 

"Did you do all of this?" 

The sound of metal clattering to the floor fills the room as Vincent Wright slowly turns to the tall figure casually stepping over the corpse before him. 

He didn’t know what to feel. Fear for being caught. Fear for what he did. Joy he was caught. Joy he actually finished something for once in his life. Sorrow for allowing himself to do this. Sorrow for allowing himself to be found. 

Disappointment in the fact the one person out of the many who adopted him, who understood his pain, was the one to look upon the horror he committed. 

“Mr. Afton…I’m so sorry.” 

Sorry for snapping. Sorry for thinking this was how he could help them. Sorry for allowing his pain to get the best of him. Sorry for not trying to stop himself. Sorry for letting himself down. Sorry for letting his parents who abandoned him down. Sorry for letting his three brothers who were never sent away down. Sorry for letting Scott down. 

...sorry for not doing this sooner. 

Those piercing blue eyes snap up to the young man standing before him. The once blood thirsty gaze filled with terror over the crime he did with seemingly no reason. 

Those once blood thirsty eyes filled with terror over the crime he did with seemingly no reason, along with the look of longing to do it again. Murder five children. Cause another to lose their frontal lobe. 

“I’m proud of you, Vincent.” 

The guard straightens up ever so slightly at that, watching with wonder and awe as a real smile appears on the man’s face standing before him. 

He was proud. For once in his life, he wasn’t a failure. Wasn’t someone to be rid of as soon as he was old enough to be casted aside. As if his biological parents knew this is what he would become. 

A murderer. One who is itching to continue what he's started. There was so much pain he had to rid the world of. 

William Afton then walks forward, looking over the blood-stained uniform with pure joy as he takes the hunched and shaking shoulders into his grasp. 

“Come with me. I have something to help with the blood," he grins, bringing the frozen man toward the door without any resistance. "I just hope you don't mind to color purple." 

“No…will I be allowed to kill again, sir?” 

Vincent perks up at the genuine laugh emitted, heart fluttering as his once adoptive father quickly nods his head, hand outstretched to close the door behind them. 

Not that anyone would immediately discover who exactly was killed in the back room of Freddy Fazbear's. There was blood, a murder weapon, bodies. It would be hard for an untrained eye, however, to recognize the little kids due to the Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy suits they were stuffed into. 

William smile once more down at the expression growing more and more excited by the minute, as if pleading for a new victim. 

Start counting your days, Henry. He’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. 

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, Vincent.

“I'd be disappointed if you didn't." 

[blametheeditor]

Backstories: Scott Cawthon

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of murder death. An implied death scene. The concept of child-friendly machines wanting to kill people.

Please take note this is not suitable for everyone.

Disclaimer: The world and characters used in the story are owned solely by Scott Cawthon. We own nothing but the writing.

Please give credit to those who deserve it. Thank you.

When the creator becomes the character.

___________________________________

"Hello, hello?" 

The man hesitates at that, finger removing itself from the recording button as he takes a deep breath. 

"Foxy!" He can't help but scream, jerking away from the left hand door currently being banged on. 

One, two, three. 

The night guard quickly checks the light for Bonnie once more, lifting the door once the hall was clear before checking on Freddy's position. 

Draining power. Can't let that happen again.

Scott Cawthon moves the matted sandy hair away from his eyes, unable to help the spark of fear washing through him at the realization he was sweating buckets. Because out of the five years he's worked for Freddy Fazbear's, the animatronics have never gone this far to fix a 'broken rule'. 

He always trusted management. He always believed that there was something different about the animatronics. He always hoped that what people said was only said for the best intentions. 

Never to get away with murder. 

Foxy's leaving. Bonnie's down the hall. Freddy's near the bathrooms and so is Chica.

"I can do this. I can do this," he murmurs, turning back to the phone waiting for him to continue his recording. 

And with it being only two o'clock in the morning with 10% battery left, he better make it quick. 

"Hey! Wow, day four, I knew you could do it." 

Flip up the cameras one more time before forcing a smile on his face. 

"Uh, hey, listen," Scott continues. He has to stop once again to flinch at his hesitant voice. 

The man used to be like that. Hesitant, stuttering, unconfident in every single thing he did. He was a push over, someone who only wanted to help and support those who needed it. 

Now, though, he is a protector. Someone who will help from more than just from the sidelines. He didn't stutter, he never hesitated, and he stop taking all the bullshit handed to him like he did under a year ago. 

That was all thanks to his best friend. And his inevitable death coming sooner than he could imagine, though, was also thanks to his best friend. 

...if only he knew where that madman was. 

"I might not be around to send you a message tomorrow." 

Scott jumps a solid foot in the air at the sudden banging sound of Foxy's return, breathing speeding up as the percentage of his battery, the percentage of his life, drops. 

Killed by my favorite animatronic too. At least Afton won't be disappointed in this one. 

"I-It's been a bad night for me here," he continues, allowing the fear of what was to come over power his pride. His stutters and hesitation weren't forced. 

He was going to die. There was nothing more to it. But that didn't mean he wasn't scared. 

"Um, I-I'm kinda glad I recorded my messages for you-" A sob almost escapes him even as his voice stays as calm as ever, forcing a clearing of his throat. "-uh, when I did." 

That's when Scott realized something. Something so monumental it seemed like an insult he never thought of it his entire week until now. 

"Uh, hey, do me a favor." 

Foxy banging on the door once more. 

And I'm not asking this because he told me to.

"Maybe, sometime, uh." 

One more sound of the animatronic clearly wanting inside. 

I'm asking because I really do need this favor.

"You could check inside those suits in the back room?" 

Wanting inside to brutally murder the loyal employee. 

I don't want to be forgotten.

"I'm gonna try to hold out until someone checks." 

...maybe even wanting to tell him everything will be okay. 

Because after everything I've done for those around me, those I care about.

"Maybe it won't be so bad." 

The battery percentage drops yet again. 

They're only watching me die without shedding a single tear.

"Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there." 

Please. Tell my family I love them. And tell Vincent I'm sorry.

Scott's head snaps up at hearing Freddy Fazbear's chime, breathing speeding up at realizing the star animatronic was drawing closer and closer to the office. 

A moment passes and he stops recording once more, eyes glancing around the room in pure terror, the walls slowly closing in on him as the animatronics he once worshipped begin to descend upon him. 

He had no idea what would happen when he gets caught. Recording a lecture of what the suit did was one thing, but trying to figure out what the demonic robot of a children's mascot that caught you did was a completely different story. 

The night guard didn't know where the others were. Didn't know if they were already breathing down his neck. 

He really did try to survive. Afton had only asked for a staged 'death tape' to give to the many night guards to come on night four, considering no one should make it past that point with the few reports given. 

It looks like Scott was about to do one better, though, and give the poor idiots coming into Freddy Fazbear's his real death. 

Recorded, for the world to hear. 

I'm so sorry.

"You know," the man begins, finger pressing the button once more. 

He wanted to tell them everything. He wanted to stop this. To make sure no one else had to die. To save them. To tell them the story of why the animatronics are trying to kill them. 

Because- 

Scott nearly screams when he hears a sudden moan directly behind him, spinning around to see the one animatronic he thought he'd never see again. 

Golden Freddy.

"Oh no." 

"RAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" 

[blametheeditor]

B R E A K I N G

Warnings: This is a sole BATIM fanfiction, with cursing, betrayal, the idea of being insignificant.

Run Down: In the game, Henry seemingly was kicked out/left the studio, something unclear as of simply playing only the first game and not reading any books by TheMeatly. This a bit of a ‘Alice In Wonderland’ sort of take of what possibly happened, the idea Henry never knew any of the other characters you become quite familiar with.

____________________________________

“Joey, mind if-?”

Henry’s question gets cut off with a simple wave of the hand.

“Stein! I need assistance!”

“Can it-?”

Once again his request is ignored in favor of the studio owner tapping on his desk.

“Pipes weaving in and out of the walls.”

“Mr. Drew, please-”

Joey walks around the space to stand beside the animator.

“I’m only slightly worried about the danger potential.”

“Only slight-?”

Another plan is shifted around as the taller hums.

“Yep, this’ll work. Thank you, Henry.”

“But, I-”

A hand is placed on his shoulder.

“Now, for the real reason I asked you here.”

“You didn’t-”

Henry stares up at the person who controls his fate.

“You see, there’s been a need of a few...changes.”

“Change-?”

He screams when the open door swallows him whole out of curtesy from Joey Drew shoving him inside.

“Oh Henry.”

Joey, what is going-?

The thought isn’t even allowed to be finished out of shock seeing a near insane smile looking down on him.

“This is for your own good.”

Wait-!

With that the door slams shut to plunge the young adult into darkness.

Then a sudden flash of light.

The main room of Joey Drew’s Studio.

Teaming with life.

Joey Drew is the owner.

He stands where finished animations are projected, an idea he implemented to motivate workers, encourage business partners to join on the business’ success.

Joey Drew is the demon.

Wally Franks is the janitor.

He walks around the space with a keen look, attempting to be productive in having the workspaces clean while so many different people interact.

Wally Franks is the guide.

Thomas Connor is the repairer.

He stands on a ladder in order to reach the pipes that have allowed ink to escape, his clothing stained by the liquid as one final bolt is tightened.

Thomas Connor is contributor.

Sammy Lawrence is the composer.

He crosses the opening with his head down, eyes reading sheet music as he moves toward the stairs and get back to work in the music department.

Sammy Lawrence is the prophet.

Norman Polk is the projectionist.

He finishes setting up the projector to allow faint scenes of Bendy dancing to appear in the brightly lit room, nodding to Joey with his job completed.

Norman Polk is the misplaced.

Susie Campbell is the actress.

She stands off to the side, chin up and eyes searching, but she’s following the other two down to the music department as well, never needing to be called when her part is coming.

Susie Campbell is the angel.

Jack Fain is the lyrist.

He leans against a wall until he spots Sammy, making the man quickly follow after his coworker, needing assistance on words to his music.

Jack Fain is the casualty.

Shawn Flynn is the distributor.

His hands are holding a can of bacon soup, a rolled up poster, and a Bendy doll, speaking toward Joey about the creations made and who’s purchasing them.

Shawn Flynn is the ignorant.

Grant Cohen is the accountant.

He stands at the hallway’s opening, holding papers as if reading them, only to have his gaze locked on Joey with a seemingly permanent scowl.

Grant Cohen is the collected.

Henry is the-

The man screams when the sound of a scratching record suddenly fills his ears.

The room around him seems to pause and jump, as if reality is a reel on a projector.

A reel about to be ripped after getting placed incorrectly.

Henry yells as he falls through a black void, reaching to grab onto something, to keep from losing himself.

Nothing works as he’s thrown back into the blinding light, falling to the floor and landing with a cry of pain.

“But I tell you!”

...who-?

“If one more of these pipes burst?”

Pipes, bursting?

“I’m outtah heah!”

Wally grins as he ends his tape, leaving it on the shelf where he originally found it. No one will ever know it was messed with.

Not when it had been randomly placed there by Joey in the first place. He assumes it’s to give the studio an aesthetic feel. It sure needs one the way it looks, how it’s built. Seems as if someone will jump out and-

“HOLY-!”

Henry leaps back as the man his age and hand holding a mop yells in fright.

”I’m sorry for scaring you! I hadn’t-!”

“Lahence! Don’t scare me like that!”

”L-?”

“Sorry, not sorry.”

Henry stares. Stares at the person standing in front of him, looking right at the animator.

No, not at him.

Behind him.

“Goofing around I see,” Sammy comments, eyebrow raised when he spots the janitor had apparently been speaking to no one. “Although speaking to yourself is actually the first sign you’re losing it, Franks.”

“You’re the one to talk.”

”Please, sir, listen to me!”

“Enough. I need you to help clean up the ink from my office.”

”No, don’t leave, please!”

Henry is left, however. The two don’t even hesitate. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.

But how? Why? What happened? What is happening? A look down at himself and he seems, transparent. As if he really doesn’t exist.

What did Joey do to him? And what he saw before, these people had been a part of the scene.

Everyone working. Everyone talking. But they were unfamiliar faces. He didn’t, doesn’t recognize anyone.

“Come along, Franks.”

Franks. And Lawrence, Sammy Lawrence.

“I don’t get how the pipe in your office is always the one needing fixing and getting fixed,” Wally comments.

“Right, because I should be writing Joey a conspiracy theory about the ink out to get me personally.”

“Exactly!”

“Never will I ever be caught stooping down to your so-called intelligence, Wally.”

Wally.

Henry races after the two as they talk, though more so the younger being insulted. Sammy isn’t told off, however, almost ignored even as the conversation continues.

Ink, pipes. Joey only mentioned pipes once, and that was before this happened. Whatever this is.

The animator stops as the unfamiliar faces continue walking, dread filling his heart they don’t notice him leaving, confirming he isn’t really here. But he can’t follow. Not when he doesn’t understand.

The only person he knows is Joey. The rest are strangers, and therefore distractions in his attempt to get out of this.

“Sammy Lawrence, you better not be rescheduling my recording again.”

Henry stumbles away from the angered woman, head shaking as he starts running.

“Susie, I already told you, you’re working with me today!”

A man with a fedora.

“I have no business with you, Jack Fain.”

“Ms. Campbell!”

Henry screams as he trips through someone, a tall man who looks unpleased, not wanting anyone near him or anything to be told to him.

And he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t notice the young animator gasping for breath when it becomes clear he’s...nothing.

“Will all of you shut up,” Grant growls. “I don’t need this useless banter and squabbling echoing through these halls.”

Henry doesn’t pay attention. He’s left to sit by the corner of two hallways, despair filling him as the man steps through him to walk away.

”J-Joey! Joey, help-!”

“What’s the problem, Grant?”

Joey Drew raises an eyebrow as his accountant glares daggers.

“You, Joey. But while that’s unfixable, it’s the fact you’ve hired children.”

Joey?

“They’re necessary children, Cohen.”

“Apparently.”

Henry stiffens when Joey suddenly looks down at him. At him.

”Joey?”

“Henry! Surprised to find you down here.”

”Joey, what-?”

“Drew, are you-?”

“Go on, Grant,” the studio owner shoos, kneeling beside open air.

Kneeling in front of Henry.

“Business matters.”

The young adult watches him walk away, breathing speeding up when it’s just him and Joey. The man he became partners with. The man who didn’t listen. The man who did this.

”Joey, what’s going on?”

“Ugh, that’s not annoying at all,” the man mutters, waving a hand across the space Henry should be cowering. But of course he’s on a different plane of existence. Causes his voice to sound distorted. “Hold on, I’ll fix it.”

”Joey, WAIT-!”

Gravity shifts.

The void returns.

A desk.

Henry’s breath is stolen away from the free-fall, silently screaming as he’s dropped a hundred feet above the desk of Joey Drew, plummeting.

Then something appears, catching his miniscule form before he slams into the unforgiving wood now the size of a football field to him.

His shaking limbs from fear can’t do anything as his platform then curls around him, tears escaping when it becomes clear he’s completely at Joey’s mercy even more than before.

“Hmm, better, though not the best.”

The animator slowly looks up, and he chokes on air at seeing the man causing his misery a hundred times his size, possibly even bigger.

He holds the person claimed to need this little ‘talk’ in the palm of his hand, small enough to manipulate with a single finger.

Henry’s entire world, his life, literally in the hands of someone he had begun to doubt long before shown what exactly he was capable of, his plans for his animator.

“So quiet, Henry.”

There’s a scream as the back of his shirt is pinched to yank him into the air, Joey dangling the young adult above a height that can easily kill him.

Those eyes holding so much more than the concern given to his employee, so called friend struggling with panic.

Of course this must be quite shocking, but it’s the only way they can speak without distractions, and without the animator running away.

“Didn’t you have a question, Stein?”

A question never to be answered, only to have the sentence cut off and never asked to repeat it.

An answer that clearly won’t be a straight one, dancing around reality like they are now, Henry simply along for the ride.

His world essentially gone now with the representation stating Joey has all of the power, and has always had it no matter what was said.

“I’ve gone and broken my toy, haven’t I?”

Joey only sounds slightly unnerved by the revelation, to have the person he’s partners with on this entire thing to have only been a pawn.

Not only that, but the fact Henry seems out of order, only staring with tearful eyes and a gaze of what spells ‘betrayal’.

His face is only laughed at as he’s lowered onto the stable desk, Joey lying on his crossed arms with an amused grin.

“You get it now, don’t you?”

A poke at his chest sends the young adult stumbling.

”You’re nothing.”

A threatening smirk has him turning to race away.

"I never cared about you.”

Henry falls to his knees as his legs give out.

”You’re nothing more than someone to use.”

A shadow descends upon him.

”Please, Joey...”

The door opening to reveal a shadowed figure standing at the top of the stairs with a white light shinning behind it.

“Henry?”

Joey.

Footsteps dart to where the young adult sobs into his hands.

“Henry! How long have you been down here!”

Long enough.

Hands reach out to help him to his feet.

“Come on. You idiot, I don’t even know how you-”

NO!

Joey hesitates when the animator yanks himself away.

“Henry?”

”Leave me alone.”

The two stand up separately.

“Stein, what has gotten into you?”

”I’m leaving.”

Henry marches up the stairs as Joey stares.

“For the day?”

”Good bye, Drew.”

A hand grabs his hand.

“Henry, wait, you can’t-!”

”I won’t let you use me, Joey.”

The animator stalks away with a glare.

“TRAITOR!”

”Manipulator.”

The taller form races after him with venom dripping from his voice.

“I thought you’d actually let us make this a success!”

”I thought I’d actually be your partner.”

It’s too late.

“Henry, if you leave, you can never come back.”

”Good.

”I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

[blametheeditor]

Backstories: Henry Ross

Warnings: Almost excessive cursing. Mentions of murder, death. Mentions of war, being apart of it, and being effected by it. The concept of being abandoned.

Please take note this is not suitable for everyone.

Disclaimer: The world and characters used in the story are owned solely by TheMeatly. We own nothing but the writing.

Please give credit to those who deserve it. Thank you.

Home is- was always where that heart is.

___________________________________

The light flickers off once more, taunting the man passing by for the fifth time that night and seemingly laughing at him even though the trudging footsteps don't halt for one second. 

It knew it was getting on his nerves. Knew it was slowly making the man go insane from thinking someone was there. Someone who could possibly help him. Someone who was waiting. 

Waiting to get punched in the fucking face. 

"Fuck you, Drew," Henry Ross growls before pounding his fist on the button he needed to press to apparently turn on the 'ink machine'. 

What the fuck even is the ink machine? He's seen it, found a note that commanded him to turn it on, the very reason he wants to just turn tail and leave Joey to fuck with someone else he hasn't seen in thirty years, but he had no idea what the fuck it’ sreally for. Leave it to his so called 'best friend' to go and- 

"FUCK!" 

The sudden scream was only to drown out the fact the pitch black liquid bursting a pipe and flooding the room made his heart skip a beat. The first time this old hell hole really scared him. 

Not the fact there were Bendy cutouts randomly appearing out of no where. Not the fact there was a dead Boris in one of the rooms. Not the fact the man who told him to never come back had allowed the place he used to call home in such disrepair seemed to be either hiding or missing. 

The one thing that truly made him fear for his life was the fact the pipe bursting and ink flowing all the way up to his knees. Almost like the murky water he had been forced to march through undeterred. Almost like the sound of a gun firing straight at him... 

"Fuck you, Drew. Fuck. You," the old animator grumbles as he finally walks up the steps and away from the black abyss attempting to swallow him whole. 

Soaked through his boots and the helm of his pants, that shit could've fucking killed him. All of this could've fucking killed him. Loose planks falling randomly. Those lights seeming to make a spark connecting and disconnecting whenever he grows near. 

You said you didn't need me Joey. You said everything would be taken care of. And yet thirty years later, and you didn't even have the balls to shut this hell hole down. God Joey... 

Henry sighs before yanking the lever that would apparently power the glorious and ‘needing’ to be powered ink machine on. And despite the endless circles he wondered through just to get to this moment, he feels proud. 

And as the man who had once been banned from the very halls he remembered so fondly so many years ago, his chin is held high. 

Now he can find Joey. There were no more notes to be read. There were no more items to be found. Fuck those lights and whoever thought he couldn't break the door down with just his bare hands. He was almost there. The feeling of something big and important going to happen. 

Henry was finally- 

...those boards weren't always there. 

In seconds the nearest item to his hand is picked up, not a single sound traveling across the small hallway to the sudden wooden planks placed haphazardly across the doorway he went through not even ten minutes ago. 

Whoever put them there didn't understand how to properly block someone off without using too much supplies. Possibly didn't have complete control over their limbs. Possibly in too much of a hurry. 

They were waiting. To kill him. To harm him. To pull some fucked up joke on him. It didn't matter. The hammer he snagged to yeild isn't ideal, but it’s the only thing that won’t kill them immediately or at least cause a wound that could become fatal due to the ink surrounding them. And if he really needs to, he will kill them.

A nod to confirm the thoughts and Henry casually walks toward the planks, footsteps loud and even to show he is unafraid. Prepared. But also to trick them and think he doesn't know what will happen. 

He won't go blindly into a trap. He’s Henry Ross. He will fight for his life no matter what the cost is. Fight for the lives of others no matter if it costs his own. Protect innocents and make those who deserve it pay. 

Joey will either be safe inside his own studio, or get his ass kicked trying to pull something like- 

"*POP*ING HELL!" 

"FUCK!" 

Henry stumbles back from the towering form that had attempted to reach out and grab him. It had been close, with claw like hands wanting to slice at him, expecting the man to be vulnerable and unable to defend himself. 

The hammer worked far better than he thought, but he almost wish it hadn't. 

Because that isn't a person. No one was nine feet tall and with a smile that was so damn familiar. Ink that not only covered them but seemed to be apart of them. 

Those claws are white with three marks. That smile only teeth even as a frown. The ink dripping over one pie-cut eye and allowing it to be somewhat visible. The space the hammer hit directly below two devil horns curved in toward each other. 

He drew it so many times. He created it, even. Before Joey took his idea and changed it. Before he was sent away to never come back. Before he was forced to fight for not only his life but the lives of others. 

It can't be. It can't. Joey's playing a sick, cruel joke. This can't be real. That, it's not, he drew him, and now, that's not really... 

"Bendy?" 

The hand now confirmed to be a cartoonish glove, mutated but still rubbing pitifully at his head as if in pain to pause and look down at the man before him. The ink suddenly seems to disappear, drawing backwards to reveal a little bit more of that heart-shaped face he drew and traced over so many times. Those pie-cut eyes full of so many emotions other than a haunting joy. 

"Okay, I have to admit, good shot. But seriously? You had to try and bash my head in with a *POP*ing hammer?" 

The expression turns surprised when said weapon drops to the floor if a bit eerily. The clattering doesn't help in calming down the quickening breaths being taken. The frantic steps going backwards. 

"No. No. Not fucking real. Not fucking real," Henry breathes. 

The apparent demonic version of his little darling devil glares darkly at that, turning toward the animator, his real creator completely, gloves dripping with ink once more as his motions turn hostile. Angry. 

Painful. 

"Never thought your sins would come back to haunt you?" 

A board snapped in half by one glove alone. 

"Never thought we'd remember, did you?" 

A stumble backwards as the form seems to grow even taller. 

"Did you!" 

The shake of the head and a roar as another board is broken. 

"You will pay for what you have done!" 

There was no answer other than the fading sound of Henry sprinting away from the monstrosity. 

"GET BACK HERE! YOU TRAITOR! 

"I WILL END YOU!" 

It not real. It's not real. Wake up. It's a dream, a nightmare. Yet another hallucination just wake- 

"UP!" 

Henry leaps cleanly over the claws reaching out from the puddle of ink suddenly flowing down from the walls. The ceiling. Every where. His home is no longer safe. He was forever damned to never return to Joey Drew Studios like he had so long ago. Those days were over. 

And considering how everything became, with Joey turning this into a living hell filled with real life monsters, he’s glad he was sent away. Banned from this wretched place. 

He never wants to come back. Bendy can go fuck himself. Created him. Betrayed him. Only Joey can call him a traitor. 

Only Joey can call me a- 

That's when Henry fell, hand reaching for the exit just within his grasp, only to have the very ground, his entire world, ripped out from underneath him. 

Maybe it was a good thing he fell deeper into this little pit of hell. Because it was either fall to his death, or allow his own creation to murder him without a second thought. He didn't know about anyone else, but this was the better way to go in his opinion. 

If only he knew... 

_____________

Fun Fact: ‘Ross’ came to be due to Henry’s last name reveal of ‘Stein’ far after the backstory was created. It’s still the character Henry Stein, simply with a different last name, though now it’s been used and claimed for every story.