#joey cultice

[cultofpoppy-tm]

Odalisque Magazine, November 2023.

📸 Joey Cultice

[oceanpulls]

Photo by Joey Cultice.

[aleprouswitch]

Trent Reznor by Joey Cultice, 1994.

[vampryn]

nine inch nails by Joey Cultice

[easterartist]

Coughs in new welcome home au

Hiii I know I need to do competition stuffs but I've been having welcome home au brainrottttt

Basically, this is a crossover au if you will. The main protag of the au is Wally! Essentially, the crossover is Welcome home & Bendy and the ink machine! Wally used to be a human , and he used to work in Joey Drew studios! (As the janitor! He was once Wally Franks!)

He left the studio when he started to notice all the bad things starting to happen (aka Joey going insane with cultic power or whatever). Then later on he started working for the Playfellow workshop! Instead of giving him a janitor position like he was trying to sign up for (cuz that's where his skill set was) , they ended up hiring him as the voice actor for Wally Darling! (He had no clue why, it was very confusing on why they chose him to be a voice actor of all things when he had zero experience with it.)

Later on, several bad things occured in the puppet show studio (things I will go into detail on later), and his soul was forcefully put inside the puppet he voiced!

The other voice actors also ended up having their souls forced into the puppets they were voicing, but Wally is the only one to remember who he once was (EVERYONE else only remembers being the puppet, not the person). Later on, they escape the weird other realm that they had been placed in, as well as the studio itself after everyone remembers who they are! And then, a strange turn of events causes Wally and the other puppets to wind up in the ink realm of the batim studio!

That may seem like the whole plot, but it DEFINITELY isn't. There's so much more to it! That's just the basis so you get an idea of what is happening in the au!

That's about it for now. I'll post more later! :D

Bye byeeeee!

[joedlc1971]

Facebook Memories • “B*****§ with Glitches” lol I don’t remember where I saw that quote, but it popped into my head as soon as I saw the photo. 😅🤣😂 • Original photo by Joey Cultice

[queensofrap]

Remy Ma's photoshoot for her debut album 'There's Something About Remy: Based on a True Story' Photographed by @JoeyCultice (2006)

[cold-black-and-infinite]

Oddly enough, Faceapp didn't seem to register the beard, so it didn't give me a "shave" option (original by Kevin Westenberg).

Too bad the edited version didn't have as much blood; would've been perfectly demented (original by Joey Cultice).

[mag171]

ranboo's getting his ideas for lore from bendy and the ink machine. okay. here we go. ill make a small summary of important storylines for people who want to theorize whats coming up but didnt hyperfixate on the game:

a capitalistic man, joey drew, took over an old animation studio, and he was kind of a work horse. only in it for the money.

there were many employees who LOVED their jobs. artists, animators, voice actors, musicians, janitors, people who made amusement parks. they all eventually either quit or got swallowed and corrupted by evil ink.

the three animated characters are bendy, the dancing demon, alice the angel who fell from grace, and boris, the wolf whos just trying his best. they all came to life. bendy was more animalistic, hunting down the MC, Henry. henry created bendy. alice wants to be beautiful and wanted and adored, and steals the organs of boris's clones.

sammy lawrence worships bendy in a sort of cultic way, norman the projector-head fought him in his inky state, and there were people who tried to help henry.

the main theme is creations that were cast aside and corrupted, and that running from your problems comes to haunt you no matter how much time has past.

hope it helped, feel free to add on if youve got more info since its been awhile and this isnt the most clear.

[weirdletter]

Dead Reckonings No. 26, edited by Alex Houstoun and Michael J. Abolafia, Hippocampus Press, Fall 2019. Info: hippocampuspress.com.

A Review of Horror and the Weird in the Arts.

Contents: A Cultic Gathering – Darrell Schweitzer Trio of Terrors – Greg Gbur The Curated Repast of Subdivisions – The joey Zone “The Most Poignant Sensations of My Existence”: Visiting the Ladd Observatory at NecronomiCon Providence – Karen Joan Kohoutek Two Writers: Lives and Works – S.T. Joshi Ramsey’s Rant: Volumes of Volumes – Ramsey Campbell Sing Your Sadness Deep, Laura Mauro – Daniel Pietersen Man as a Mystery – Donald Sidney-Fryer The Unseen, Quiet Dark – Fiona Maeve Geist Curtains of the Impossible: A Remembrance of Sam Gafford – Farah Rose Smith A New Take on the Chambers Mythos – Acep Hale Ars Necronomica 2019: What Drives the Dark Dreams of That Divine City? – Michelle Souliere Delicate, Collectible Screams – Géza A. G. Reilly “When Blue Meets Yellow in the West”: Stranger Things 3 – Hank Wagner and Bev Vincent Train Reading – Peter Cannon My NecronomiCon 2019: Wanderings and Wonders – Elena Tchougounova-Paulson The Rocky Beginnings of Weird Tales – Darrell Schweitzer Sam Gafford and Ulthar Press  –  S.T. Joshi “I No Longer Live in This House”: The Liminality of Un­death in the Works of R. Murray Gilchrist – Daniel Pietersen Fathoms of Tropes – Géza A. G. Reilly Were We Ever Innocent? Childhood Horrors of Knowledge and Sexuality in Gene Wolfe’s Fiction – Marc Aramini “We Make Ourselves out of Stories, Y’Know?” – Karen Joan Kohoutek Recollections on NecronomiCon 2019 – Edward Guimont You Know Who the Monster Is – Michael D. Miller Loving Horror Films Too Much – Acep Hale Haters and Devotees Alike: NecronomiCon 2019 – Geza A. G. Reilly About the Contributors

[lnicol1990]

BatIM - God’s Toll - Part 1

For @squigglydigglydoo​‘s Toon Henry AU. It’s finally finished, and it’s a monster! But I’m happy with this, especially with all the trouble I had with one beast of a scene near the end. And thank you, Squiggly, for all your help on that.

Written with reference to @vitalpen​‘s Cultic Reprecussions.

I hope you enjoy.

You can also read this on DeviantArt.

Just when things had been looking up…

Henry swore as he watched Bendy fall through the trapdoor and disappear out of sight; there was nothing he, Alice or Boris could do to save him. But, a trapdoor from here could only send the little devil back down to one of the lower levels, although who knew where the chute would spit him out.

Alice seemed to have a similar idea and rushed back the way they’d come, no doubt looking for the nearest stairway down. She was off and gone before the animator had a chance to call out to her.

“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. He looked over to Boris who was still kneeling over the hole, whining softly. He sighed before giving the wolf a gentle tap on the shoulder. “Come on, Pup, let’s catch up with Alice and find Bendy before something else happens.”

Boris nodded without a word and the pair of them jogged back down the corridor. The toon took the lead, his knowledge of the studio’s layout infinitely more up to date than Henry’s, and they scoured their surroundings for any hint as to where their missing member had gone. Eventually, they found the door to the stairs open and they hurried downwards.

It was there that Henry had to slow to a stop.

Truthfully, he’d been wondering if it would flare up –when it would flare up– while he was a toon. His left thigh ached terribly where the old war wound was. It had been a through-and-through shot while he’d been sprinting at some battle he didn’t care to remember. All the running around must have finally upset the damn thing, though it couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Sucking in a breath, Henry looked up to find himself alone at the bottom of the stairwell: Boris had run on ahead and not noticed that he’d fallen behind. The animator grit his teeth and hobbled to the door.

There was a loud thck! and a sharp pain around the back of his head. Dazed, Henry fell to the floor and stared blearily at his attacker for a moment, but all he could see was a blur that approached him before the world went dark.

---***---

As Alice turned a corner and found herself staring at yet another empty corridor, she was beginning to feel that she may have acted a tad brashly. She’d been so caught up in the moment that she hadn’t even taken the time to wait for Henry and Boris to follow her.

She had just been so desperately frightened. Bendy had seen through Joey’s lies and the three toons were finally together again… the thought of losing that –of losing him– again had set her heart pounding as she’d raced away to find the little devil.

And now she was all alone without a clue as to where anyone was.

“Really smart, Alice,” she muttered angrily to herself. “How many times have you told Bendy off for charging in without thinking? And now you are completely and utterly­–”

She stopped ranting at herself as she came across a doorway that was almost completely destroyed. The door was hanging by a single hinge and was covered in spider web cracks, as if someone had charged into it over and over again to break it down. The doorposts and surrounding area were covered in deep scratches that were frighteningly reminiscent of the gouges Bendy’s copy had dug into the floorboards above. She approached the door cautiously, in case whatever had made those marks was still close by, and she froze at the sight within.

The room beyond had been trashed.

Some of the floorboards had been ripped out. There were deep claw marks in them, some even looked like something had tried to take a bite out of them. Everything in the room was smashed to pieces, such that she could barely guess at what anything had been. But, the worst sight of all was an unmoving black puddle of ink just to a side of the room’s centre.

“No…” she whispered breathlessly.

For a moment, everything went numb. Her heart stopped, her ink ran cold, and she could barely breathe.

She ran to the puddle and collapsed beside it, all the while telling herself she was wrong. She had to be wrong. It couldn’t be… It couldn’t be…

Suddenly, a strange blackness raced along the walls and floor. It was ink, she realised, as it sloshed against her, staining her glove slightly. She watched it cover every surface and could do nothing but stare as it enveloped the doorway and blocked out the corridor’s light.

The room turned pitch black.

Well, almost pitch black. Her halo gave off a gentle glow that illuminated her as she rose to her feet and looked around cautiously. While nothing entered her light, she could feel something lurking nearby, just out of sight, could hear it scuttling around. As the presence flittered menacingly around her, she thought she could hear giggling, though it was distorted and manic –almost hysterical.

The sense of being surrounded began to creep up on her, along with the crawling feeling of being hunted. It made her shiver as cold dread struck her core, cloying and festering. She clenched her fists to hide her trembling, though she could not stop the rest of herself from shaking. She looked up in panic as her halo’s light began to flicker, the glow weakening as it did.

Malice permeated the inky blackness around her and laughter, as distorted and manic as before but almost gleeful, echoed around her as her halo’s light began to fail. With a small burst of renewed brightness, Alice noticed several points aiming at her from the floor, surrounding her in a neat circle. The inky spears receded from the light, but she could tell that they would regrow when in the darkness.

Never give up. Never surrender.

Henry’s words came back to her. The animator probably had no idea that all three toons had taken that motto of his to heart. With how deeply he clearly believed in it, how could they not? It had given him the strength to carry on despite the odds, and Alice felt bolstered by the mere thought it.

Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t taking her.

Taking a deep, calm breath in, she closed her eyes for a moment and focused. Within moments, her halo flared up and she watched it bathe the room in light, cutting through the darkness and even revealing the room around her. The spears that had been on the verge of impaling her dissolved into nothing. A pained and indignant hiss echoed around her as this creature retreated from her light.

Unfortunately, the blinding light began to fade almost as instantly as it had been summoned and the darkness was quick to reclaim lost ground. She stepped forward, hoping to stay on something she recognised for as long as possible.

Something crunched underfoot.

Lifting her foot and skirt, she noticed that she had stepped on a piece of glass. No… no, not glass. Not quite. Turning around, she saw an empty mirror frame above a sink before the ink swallowed it up.

Oh.

She knew where she was.

This was where the unwelcome gag was, the thing that looked and sounded like Bendy. The realisation was almost a relief. The gag had tricked her, and startled them both, but it had never hurt them. It had even submerged the room in darkness like this before, but it had only ever scared them. That’s all it could do, that’s all it was meant to do.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she called out. Her words seemed to be absorbed by ink, travelling only as far as her halo shone. It was unnerving, but she stood firm.

“You should be…” a voice echoed around her. Distorted as it was, she recognised it as Bendy’s but reminded herself that it wasn’t. The laughter got louder, as if the gag was approaching her. “You think some pathetic parlour trick can protect you? You’re nothing! Just like him.”

Alice’s breath caught in her throat as her thoughts ground to a halt. Her heart was beating painfully hard. It hurt her chest and made her hearing whine as she told herself that it wasn’t true.

This thing was lying. It had to be! It was just trying to scare her. It couldn’t hurt Bendy; it wasn’t here to do that. It was lying!

Her halo went out.

In an instant, hands were clamped around her and she was shoved against the ink, or maybe it was the wall. Three sharp points began to dig into her back, but she knew it wasn’t claws; she could feel this creature’s hands around her waist, holding her still. She tried her best to pry it off her, but she found herself powerless against it.

Desperately, she forced her halo to reignite, in the vain hope that she could break away from this demented gag. As her halo flared weakly back into life, she saw the face of her attacker.

It was Bendy’s face alright, but distorted to the point where she almost didn’t recognise him. His horns were elongated and misshapen, and black ink had poured down his face and was dripping off his chin, hiding everything except his left eye and mouth. His smile… it was no longer joyous but sadistic, enjoying the pain he was inflicting on her. His lone, beady eye showed anger and hatred…

…and fear.

In spite of her predicament, Alice did a double take, completely unprepared to see fear in this mad creature’s eye. But, sure enough, she could see an underlying hint of fear in his expression. She was even wondering if those were tears in his eye’s corner.

Hesitantly, she reached out and touched the demon’s face, cupping his jaw. For a moment, she saw a flicker of recognition towards her behaviour before the feeling was clearly bottled, anger covering up the recollection and he squeezed her harder, the spikes digging further into her back.

“Bendy… Darling?” she wheezed, finding it hard to breathe. She watched him blink in surprise at the pet name she only rarely used. Wincing at the pressure at her waist, she gasped desperately for breath. “You’re… hurting me.”

The rage and malice drained from the devil’s face, leaving him looking confused and afraid. His eye darted over her, searching for something, before resting on her face –or, more precisely, her eyes. He was staring at her eyes, and realisation dawned on him.

“C-cross?” he stammered, his voice suddenly small and uncertain despite the distortion.

“Hatch,” she answered him immediately, relief flooding through her at hearing their code word.

She was right. She’d begun to suspect –hope– and she’d been right.

Bendy released her immediately and recoiled, looking at his hands in horror. His smile, which had dropped at some point, began to twitch back onto his face and he started laughing distortedly. It wasn’t a happy laugh or malicious like before, but hysterical and desperate, as if it was all he could do to stop himself crying. Tears streamed down his face from his one uncovered eye and he gripped his head as he continued to back away from Alice.

The inky blackness that covered the room retracted, fleeing from the walls and floor and ceiling. Light and dimension returned to Alice’s vision as the last of the ink returned to Bendy, who had now shrunk back to his normal size and was kneeling, curled in on himself, on the floor.

As Alice made to move, she winced at the ache in her back and gingerly laid a hand by her shoulder. Drawing her hand away, she was relieved to see her glove was still pristine white; the spikes hadn’t pierced her body, or caused her to bleed.

That would have been hard to explain to Henry.

Ignoring the dull pain, she hurried over to the little devil and gently rested her hand on his shoulders. He flinched at the contact and looked up at her with wild, beady eyes that were streaming with tears. Without a moment’s hesitation, he launched himself towards her and held her tightly in a desperate embrace. She could feel him shuddering as he clung to her.

“Cross?” he asked with the voice she recognised.

“Hatch,” she replied, stroking his back to try and calm him.

“Cross?”

“Hatch.”

“Cross?”

“It’s me, Bendy,” she murmured gently by his ear. She ceased rubbing his back and just held him gently. “It’s me.”

She didn’t know how long they stayed there, but eventually, she felt the little devil stop quivering and he slowly pulled away from her. She pretended not to notice when he rubbed the last of his tears from his eyes, still off-model, which he then closed and took a deep breath.

“Has… Has that happened before?” she asked tentatively, almost afraid of his answer.

“I… don’t know. I don’t think so,” he replied, shaking his head, his voice trembling. He opened his now on-model eyes and looked at his hands. He froze for a moment and then looked back up to her. “Maybe once? Everything got smaller when Joey– uh, I mean… Everything got smaller last time I saw him. I don’t know why.”

“We’ll ask Henry,” she stated. She took his hands and held them tightly, giving them a slight shake to cement the plan. “He’ll know.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right.” Bendy nodded as he pulled his hands from hers and rose to his feet. His voice was stronger, more normal. He even managed to give her a shaky smile as he offered his hand to help her up. “You ran off without him, didn’t ya? Aren’t you always telling me not to do that?”

“Shush,” she muttered good-naturedly, taking his hand and standing. She was glad the he’d shaken off whatever had scared him so badly.

Neither of them letting the other go, they both walked to the shattered door. Bendy paused for a moment before they left the room, turning back to glance uncomfortably around it, but then purposefully strode out.

They then began retracing Alice’s steps, hoping to find their friends.

---***---

“Aww… shoot!”

Boris cursed quietly to himself as he stared down an empty corridor. It was not meant to be empty; Henry should have been right on his heels –well, maybe not that close, but still.

He was desperately wracking his brain for when he’d last known for certain that the animator had been following him. They’d been together at the stairs, he remembered that… and after that… after that…

Nothing.

Boris whined worriedly. He hadn’t noticed leaving his friend behind and, while Henry was often quiet, it didn’t sit well with him that he hadn’t heard the man call out. If the animator had been struggling to keep up, he would have complained, loudly; if he had seen Alice or Bendy, he would have called the wolf back. For Henry to just disappear like that, so silently–

The sound of soft tapping jolted Boris from his thoughts, and he turned back to the direction he had been running in, where the sound was slowly getting louder. He recognised it instantly and he felt his ears perk up in hopefully eagerness. His worried frown turned into a relieved smile when a familiar figure walked out from behind the corner.

“Alice!” he called out excitedly. Rushing forwards, he picked the angel up and embraced her tightly, swinging her around as he did so. He chuckled giddily as he returned his friend to the floor. “Boy, I’m sure glad I found ya! I think I lost Henry at the stairwell, we should go back and… make sure… he’s…”

There were no notches in her eyes.

He didn’t ask her for their code word; he knew he didn’t need to. Instead, he backed away from the copy of his friend and snarled at her, displaying a sizeable number of teeth. He could feel the hackles on his back rise as he prepared himself for a fight.

The copy watched him coolly, completely unfazed by his threatening posture. She cocked her head to a side and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. Then, after a moment’s consideration, she relaxed her eyes, centred her head and smiled at him sweetly. She opened her arms wide, as if inviting him in for an embrace, and calmly stepped towards him.

“It’s alright,” she cooed gently. The edges of her eyes crinkled slightly as she looked at him endearingly, lovingly. “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Boris frowned and cocked his head in confusion. The other copies had attacked them almost instantly, but she wasn’t. Was she… was there more of Alice in her than they had suspected? Maybe she was as adverse to violence as the real angel was.

She took another step.

“I just want to make Papa Drew happy,” she explained, her voice suddenly tight with emotion. Tears sprung up in her eyes and smile slipped, her lip wobbling as she took an uneven breath. “I just want Papa Drew to be safe. Is that so wrong? Does that make me a bad person?”

“N-no… it don’t make ya a bad person,” Boris assured her, his ears flat against his head. He relaxed and straightened himself, reaching his hands out to her as she was to him. “But… you gotta understand, Joey… he– he’s done some bad things. And he’s hurt people. And this plan o’ his? He’s gonna hurt a lot more.”

“But Papa Drew is going to make the world better,” the angel argued, her voice begging him to understand.

She took another step forward.

All of a sudden, she was far too close.

Every emotion, every one of Alice’s mannerisms were dropped. The teary, heart-broken expression was gone in an instant, replaced with smug, malicious glee. Her open arms suddenly held long, wicked claws which she brought up in the blink of an eye, raking a hand across the wolf’s face.

Her claws caught on his muzzle and Boris felt something tear. He yelped in pain and leapt away from the copy. A few yards distance between them, he raised his hand to the left side of his snout before wincing in pain and pulling his hand away. His glove was stained with black ink.

The toon looked back his friend’s copy and whimpered fearfully. The last thing that had caused him real harm had been the acetone. That the copy could truly hurt him as well… he realised just how truly out of his depth he was. He had no chance of causing any damage to her. He was just a toon! It wasn’t in his makeup to do such a thing.

The copy rushed forwards, barrelling into him and knocking him to the ground. She grabbed him by the shoulders, claws digging in deep, and threw him across the corridor. He cried out when his back hit a wall and lay limply in a crumpled heap. His body shook, unaccustomed to real pain, and his arms refused to hold his weight. He could only lie there and watch as the copy drew closer.

She was going to burst him. He was going to find out what Henry had felt in the dark puddles, and he was afraid.

As the copy stood over him, a disturbed, hateful look in her eye, a sound rang out through the corridor. It was high pitched, barely on the cusp of hearing. It made Boris shudder and howl in discomfort, the noise seemed to scratch in the back of his head and crawled down his spine.

The copy, on the other hand, turned her head to the sound and seemed to relax to it. Her expression softened back into that of Alice’s, and her claws eased back into delicate fingers. Without a moment’s hesitation, without a flicker of doubt, she turned fully to the source and began walking to it.

All thoughts of finishing Boris off seemed forgotten.

---***---

Bendy shook his head vigorously, trying to get rid of a crick that he knew wasn’t there. Much like the crawling feeling in his back; it wasn’t really there, so scratching didn’t help. He jumped up, shifting his weight between his feet and stomping as hard as he could to try and shake the sensation.

Nothing was working.

He looked over to Alice, who was wincing and rubbing her ears. She wasn’t convulsing like he was, but she was still shivering regardless. Whatever that sound was, it had given them both the heebie-jeebies.

Feeling his eyes on her, the angel turned to the smaller toon.

“What do you think that was?” she asked.

“Dunno,” he answered honestly, fighting down another full-bodied shudder. “Sure felt like my ink was bubbling, though.”

Alice hummed in agreement, rubbing her arm. After stretching her shoulders, she carried on walking with Bendy close behind her. They said nothing more to each other, though each pondered on what that noise had been and why it had rung out through the studio.

As they drew close to a corner, the sound of an agonised, high-pitched whine caught in their ears. The two toons shared a worried look before racing forward, Bendy’s shoes squeaking against the floorboards while Alice’s heels tapped with each step. The little devil rounded the corner first and skidded to a halt as he stared at the scene before him. Alice ran into him in surprise when he stopped suddenly in front of her, and gasped in horror.

“BORIS!!” Bendy yelled in panic, running even faster than before to his friend. He fell to his knees and expertly slid the last couple of feet to stop at the wolf’s side. He grabbed the larger toon’s shoulder and shook him roughly. “Boris, can ya hear me buddy?”

The wolf yelped in pain and struggled out of the demon’s grip before his arms gave way and he slumped back against the wall. Boris whined pitifully before finally opening his eyes and focused on the little toon. He relaxed at the sight.

“Bendy. Yer alright.” The wolf smiled at his friend and sighed in relief. “We were so worried when ya fell through the floor.”

“Never mind me, you idiot!” the little devil snapped. He paused as he caught sight of his gloves, they were covered in ink from when he’d grabbed his friend. He looked back at Boris. “What happened to you?”

“I was looking for you an’ Alice, when her copy showed up,” Boris explained, trailing off when the angel approached him slowly, almost apprehensively. He gave her a bigger smile than he had Bendy, wincing when the smile grew too large and upset the torn areas on his muzzle. The gashes were still bleeding ink. He looked at both his friends before continuing. “Thought I could scare her with an old episode growl.”

The wolf chuckled despondently.

“Didn’t work.”

“Did– Did my copy do this, Boris?” Alice whispered, aghast, as she knelt down and laid a hand on his knee. Her eyes raked over him, taking in every injury he’d suffered.

Bendy looked over at the angel in concern. She was the most sympathetic of the three of them by far and the thought of hurting anyone would be devastating to her, even if she wasn’t the one who’d done the actual harming. Sure enough, she had tears in her eyes as she carefully examined their friend.

Her expression was positively miserable.

She glanced over at Bendy and her face dropped in surprise at him staring at her. But then, after a moment of holding his gaze, she looked thoughtful, as if realising something. She gave the little devil a quick smile, which made him blink in confusion, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calming herself.

When she opened her eyes, she gently laid her hands on Boris’s shoulders, hovering over the open puncture wounds. Then her halo began to glow, brighter than usual and getting brighter… and brighter. Soon Alice’s whole body was shining.

Soon, the light from the angel grew too strong for Bendy, and the little devil had to shield his eyes. It almost hurt to be so close to her, and he was reminded of the mirror room, where she’d shone like this before. It wasn’t like anything she’d done in the episodes, but… then again, neither had he ever done… that before.

The light died down and Bendy lowered his arm. What he saw made his jaw drop in amazement.

Boris was flexing his shoulders as if working out a kink. He raised his arms without issue, as though he’d never been harmed. He looked at Alice in astonishment before drawing her into a hug, which the angel returned before pulling back with an unhappy look on her face.

“I wish I’d done that better. Does your muzzle still hurt?”

The wolf scrunched and stretched his face without any sign of pain. He raised a hand and tapped the left side before pulling his hand away, spotless of ink. He turned to Bendy in confusion and the smaller toon saw three fine lines delicately run down the wolf’s muzzle, where the deep claw marks had been before.

As a favour to his friend, Bendy pulled a mirror out of his Hammerspace so he could see what Alice was upset about. Boris took the mirror and gave his reflection a good long look. When he saw the inky scars, he traced them down his face.

“Personally, I don’t think it looks that bad, buddy.” Bendy shrugged, gaining both Boris and Alice’s attention. “Yeah, you can see it if ya look close enough, but who’s gonna be doing that?”

“Henry could have done a better job,” Alice noted, still unhappy with her work.

“Well, Henry ain’t here!” Boris snapped at her, startling the angel. He then smiled at her. “And I doubt he couldda done better.”

“Speaking of the ol’ man… where is he?” Bendy asked, getting to his feet and looking around. “I’d have thought he’d be with you as Alice went running off.”

He ignored Alice’s indignant expression, and the fact that her ears were blowing steam, and focused on Boris. When the wolf got to his feet, he rubbed his arm and looked away shamefaced. He wasn’t quite able to meet either toons’s eyes.

“I… He was behind me, but then… he wasn’t,” Boris stuttered. “He didn’t say anything, so… I didn’t even realised he’d fallen behind. I– The last time I saw him was at the stairs. He might still be there, probably waiting ta give me a real chewing out for running off.”

“You and me both, Boris,” Alice noted, standing up and patting his arm in comfort. She glanced at both toons before starting down one of the corridors, turning back when they didn’t follow. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I think we better go find him. He’s probably worried sick.”

Bendy and Boris nodded in agreement and fell in line behind the angel, letting her lead them back to the stairway.

If the little devil was being honest, it felt strange not being at the front and yet, at the same time, he was grateful. His mind was still racing over the events of the past hour and following someone else’s lead gave him time to sort through it all.

Henry must have felt similar when he asked Bendy to take over previously.

The toon kept thinking about the mirror room and how he’d changed his shape to that… other form. He knew he’d done so before when Joey had planned on scrapping them, but beyond that… There were moments, instances where everything had felt just a little off kilter, when the place had looked or felt strange to him. As if he didn’t belong there anymore, as if the studio wasn’t built to work around him.

And the inky darkness that would radiate out from below his feet, he’d seen that before and more times than he was prepared to admit to Alice. He supposed he should have been grateful that he had some semblance of control over it now, not like before. A few days ago, it would have dragged any unsuspecting toon under, burst their form and forced them to rebuild themselves. Now he could stop it from hurting anyone until he wanted it to, which was a power that made his ink run cold.

After all, cartoons cannot kill, everybody knew that. And yet, he could. Sure, his victims all came back, as was the way of cartoons and their logic, but how could he call what he’d done to them anything but murder? Did he even have the right to try?

He gasped at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. Flinching, he jumped away only to see Boris with his hand outstretched and a worried look on the wolf’s face.

“You alright, Bendy?” he asked quietly, lowering his hand to rest at his side. “You were startin’ ta breathe all funny like. A–and your eyes are going off-model again.”

Bendy stared at his friend in surprise; it was the first time the wolf had been so blunt about his physical state. Of course, now that everyone knew there was… something up with him, something that didn’t fit his show’s model, it was reasonable that they’d be more open with him when he… went off-script, so to speak. It probably worried them as much as it did him, maybe even more so as he was never the first to realise when it was happening.

He took a breath to calm down and rubbed his hands over his eyes, urging them to go back to normal. The smile he offered Boris was shakier than he wanted, but it seemed to be enough to ease the larger toon’s concerns.

“I’m fine, buddy, honest,” he said appeasingly. “Just thinking some things over.”

“Okay Bendy… if you say so,” Boris agreed hesitantly, the look in his eyes showing he wasn’t entirely convinced by the demon’s assurances.

But, the wolf smiled back and carried on walking, trusting Bendy with his thoughts. And after a sigh, he ran after his friends.

He knew what they would both say. Speak to Henry, as if the animator was the font of all knowledge in this place. But –for whatever his reasons– the man had been gone for thirty years, and didn’t know the studio as well as the others thought he did. No, there was only one person who could give him the answers he needed over all of this.

Joey Drew.

But the demon wasn’t dumb. After everything that had happened, he didn’t believe the studio director would just answer his questions. The man would deflect them like he always had, Bendy realised, even down to the simplest question of all: why did everyone leave? He’d never answered that one properly, not really, just fanned the flames of resentment towards everyone –anyone– but himself.

What was the saying? Hindsight was always 20-20?

He wasn’t helping himself, thinking like this.

The corridor opened up into a hall, a busted elevator in the centre and one of the side doors already open. Beyond the threshold, Bendy could see stairs leading upwards. And on the floor in front of the doorway…

Alice ran forward, leading the race to the stairs, and stopped as she reached the item, picking it up. She turned back to the boys with a worried expression.

Henry’s axe was in her hands.

“I… I don’t get it,” Boris said quietly, stooping down to examine the weapon. He spared Bendy a glance as the little devil pushed past him and Alice before returning his attention to the item. “Henry would never just leave this behind.”

Behind the other toons, Bendy scoured the stairwell. If this was where everyone had come down to find him then there had to be some clue in here, right? Almost immediately, he noticed something out of place. There was a pipe, long, thin and straight, lying on the floor, clearly tossed to a side after use. But, when Bendy picked it up, he realised the other end was curved like a shepherd’s crook.

It was Joey’s old cane, with the handle covered in drying ink.

Bendy’s smile twisted upwards on one side and he shuddered as he chuckled quietly to himself. He couldn’t help it, why shouldn’t he laugh at the irony before him? It was Sammy taking Henry hostage to sacrifice the animator to him that had started all this madness and now, as they were about to close in on the man, Joey had done the exact same thing.

It was… so funny.

The demon’s eyes dropped to the floor and watched the inky tendrils stretch out from beneath his feet, staining the floorboards black. With ease, he pulled them back to him to barely visible past his shadow. His smiled widened wickedly.

Not yet… let’s play this close to my chest for now. No need to get everyone worried, or risk tipping off good ol’ Joey.

“Bendy?!”

The demon turned his head to see the horrified expressions on both Boris and Alice. The angel recovered from her shock quickly and gave him a fierce look, her halo’s glow flaring up in readiness for what she clearly thought was about to be another fight.

So much for not worrying them.

“Don’t worry you guys; I got this! I know what I’m doing,” he assured them. His smiled fell slightly when neither of his friends seemed comforted by his words, but he wasn’t surprised. He’d noticed how distorted his voice was. He turned round completely and showed them Joey’s cane, his malicious grin returning in full force. “An’ I ain’t gonna let Joey call the shots no more. This is my turf, my home, and you guys are my friends, my– my family!”

Both of his friends’ faces fell in shock, although whether that was because of the implications from Joey’s cane or his admission, he wasn’t sure.

He tossed the cane back into the corner it had been dumped in and made his way up the stairs. The tendrils spread out across each step as his passed them before leaving the area spotless. Before he advanced too high, he turned back to Alice and Boris, who were still rooted to their spots.

“You two coming?” he asked casually, for once feeling completely at ease with this… other form’s powers.  But he could see the apprehension on his friends’ faces, and understood their concern. “Don’t worry, I got this all under control this time! None of it’ll harm ya, I promise.”

The angel and wolf shared a look before following Bendy up the stairs. They kept a more than healthy distance away from the tendrils, and he honestly couldn’t blame them. Instead of complaining, he led the other toons upstairs and marched onwards to Joey’s office.

Looks like he was going to have that talk with the director after all.

You can read the second half here.

[vitalpen]

Cultic Repercussions

(Alrighty, been working on this one for a while now.  Bunch o revisions, bunch o changes, lots o fun, now it’s done.  This is based in @squigglydigglydoo ‘s Toon Henry AU and meant to kinda loosely connect to @lnicol1990 ‘s events in Seeing Double which, if you haven’t read, please do it.  For me, but mostly for yourself, just do it.  After you do that, come back and enjoy this maybe.  Or don’t.  Your call really.  Have a nice day either way.)

“We’ll be fine.  Joey’s gotta be runnin’ outta schemes by now.”

The words were meant to reassure his friends of their situation.  Odds were Joey had two dopplegangers of them left, one for Boris and one for Alice.  That meant they had him out numbered… hopefully. But not a moment after he finished saying them, Bendy felt a distinct lack of anything beneath his feet.  In confusion, he looked down.

Trap door.

“Oh, figures,” was all he got out before gravity took effect.

The sounds of Boris, Alice, and Henry yelling his name followed him down the chute.  He zipped through the darkness at untold speeds, tumbling head over feet before eventually being thrown out back into the halls.  He traveled across the floor boards a good ten feet or so before finally rolling to a stop.  After shaking his head vigorously to chase away the birds circling it, he stood up and brushed himself off.

“Me and my big mouth,” he muttered, mentally kicking himself.  A quick glance around and a few seconds of silence gave him no sight or sound of his pals.

“That’s just dandy.”  He crossed his arms and tapped his foot ponderously.  “Do I stay here, or go lookin’ for ‘em?”

The studio was a maze of hallways, moving around might just make it harder to find them.  But then again, they might be staying still waiting for him to find them. He shook his head.  No.  They had numbers.  They would be safer moving and looking for him.

“There you are,” Alice’s voice came in right on cue.

“Yeah, here I am,” Bendy turned around to meet them. “Sorry bout that, I got…”

No notches.  Boris and Alice stood a few yards from him with no notches in their eyes.

“Cross,” Bendy immediately said in a distant, faint hope that he was seeing things, he silently begged them to say “hatch”.

But they only gave momentary frowns of confusion.

In all but soul, Bendy stared down his two best friends.  The cold, malicious glares didn’t match the wide bright smiles.

“You’re the Bendy that wants to hurt Papa Drew, aren’t you?”  The fake Alice asked cheerfully.

“Papa… Drew?”  Bendy took a step back, recoiling in both disgust and horror.  The words felt wrong on his tongue, he had the urge to brush his teeth.  The duo stepped forward in unison, perfectly matching their movement.  It looked robotic.

“Papa Drew told us that there were intruders that we had to take care of, and it’s lookin like you’re one ‘o’ them.  Guess that means we gotta take care of ya.”  ‘Boris’ said as he walked forward.

“Would you stop calling him that?  It’s givin’ me the willies!”  Bendy snapped, looking down the hall for signs of the others.

They both looked puzzled, as if they weren’t sure what he meant.  “But that’s what he is, he made us after all,” ‘Alice’ replied, “he made you too.  Don’t you owe everything to him?”

Bendy couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “Listen to yourselves, you sound like cultists.”

“We just want to make Papa Drew happy.” ‘Boris’ replied, taking another step forward in-time with ‘Alice’.

They kept talking in circles, calling Joey ‘papa’, like it was all they could do.  These weren’t toons, they were robots.   “If you’re as creative as it gets, Joey’s really lost the spark.”

“Don’t you dare insult Papa Drew!” ‘Alice’ shrieked, making Bendy flinch.  It was her voice; that still stung.  They were robots alright, but they were robots that looked like his friends.  He had to try.

“Joey ain’t who you think he is, alright?  Believe me, I used to be where you two are.” Bendy held his hands out in a welcoming gesture, trying to show he wasn’t a threat, “I used to think he just wanted to help us all and I think he really wanted to at first but...”  The image of Joey, the guy who once gave Bendy everything he had, holding a bottle of ink remover, telling him to go use it… it made him sick.  “But we can all tell ya, he ain’t like he used to be; he’s ready to sink real low if he thinks you’re steppin’ outta line.  He was ready to kill Boris, kill Henry-”

“Who’s Henry?”  They both asked.

That stopped Bendy cold. “…What?”

“We don’t know who that is. Papa Drew never told us about any Henry.”  ‘Alice’ explained.

“Is he another intruder?” ‘Boris’ asked.

Bendy looked around again, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone besides these two.  “No, he’s a friend-“

“Of yours?”  ‘Alice’ cut him off, “Because that would make him an intruder.”

“Listen to me, Henry wants to help us, he cares about us-“

“He wants to hurt Papa, so he has to die.”  ‘Boris’s’ pace picked up

“Is Joey all you think about?!” Bendy yelled in frustration.

“Isn’t he all that matters?” The two replied in unison once more. Their mouths spread into smiles so wide that their faces stretched outward, warping the shape of their heads.  It wasn’t them.  He knew it wasn’t them.  He told himself over and over.  But it didn’t help.  To his eyes, Boris and Alice were smiling at him like maniacs.  And it was clear that there was no getting through to them.

‘Boris’ parted his lips and began growling, revealing the jagged, razor sharp teeth underneath.  His fur began to stand up on his back and he lowered his hands to the ground, crouching on all fours.

“Come on you two, ya… ya don’t have to… please don’t do this.”  Bendy began backing up faster and faster, practically feeling the situation slip from his fingers.  “HENRY!” He screamed, giving up any chance left of reasoning with him.

“Papa Drew’s great work will be stopped,” they chanted together, “a whole new world is waiting. And you could have been part of it.”

They were even starting to sound like Joey.

‘Alice’ raised her arm and pointed at Bendy.  The soft, rounded finger elongated, sharpening into a claw.  “Oh, little devil darling, Papa Drew thought so highly of you.  And when you are remade, he’ll think highly of you once more.”  

Finally, Bendy’s survival instinct kicked into gear.  He spun on his heels and ran.  With savage barks, the canine doppleganger gave chase, flinging globules of spit all over as he galloped.

From there, the world rushed by in a haze as the little toon sprinted with everything he had.  His legs were a blurred wheel of motion, arms pumping as fast as he could.  The first door he found, Bendy took it; anything to put a barrier between him and the horrifying visage of his best friend.  In less than a second he had it opened and closed, pressing himself up against it for reinforcement.

Less than a second passed before the full force of the fake Boris’s lunge collided with it.  That dog hit like a truck; the smaller toon barely had the strength to keep his grip on the door frame.  If he hadn’t been there, that would’ve broken it down, no problem.

He had to keep moving though.  The door would hold long enough… for him…

…to go nowhere.

There was no other door.

He had no way out of here.

The room was empty except for three things.

A sink.

A mirror frame.

And the remains of a shattered mirror.

“Of all the places…” Bendy muttered to himself.  Another lunge from his attempted murderer brought him back to reality.  He frantically threw his gaze all around, desperate for something, anything…

…nothing.

Which was just what he found.

“Well look who the dog chased in.”

Bendy knew the voice. Heck, it was his voice.  And the fact that he hadn’t said that told him all he needed to know.

“Oh, boy do I have no time for you right now!”  He snapped at the voice.

“Why not?  It ain’t like you’re goin’ anywhere,” it snarked back.

“In case you didn’t noti-“ Bendy was cut off by another ram against the door.  “I’m busy, so beat it, scram, get gone before I-” the next ram made him bite his tongue, “gah!”

“Oh?” The shards of glass began to vibrate.  “What was that?”  Each piece stood up straight at once.  “I didn’t quite catch it.”  They began bouncing over to him.

“I swear I will grind every little piece of you into dust!”  Bendy seethed at the glass shards.

“Anybody ever tell you that you make a lot of threats?” The voice from the shards seemed wholly unthreatened.  “You’d think you’d deliver on one or two of ‘em.”

“What are you tryin’ to say?”

“Well, let’s see,” the glass shards grew tiny gloved hands and began jumping on each other’s shoulders. In no time at all, the spiderwebbed mirror formed a vague whole.  Bendy stared at his reflection, with its beady little eyes.  

“What did you say to Henry the first time you saw him again?  You said you’d trap him in here forever.  What’d you tell Boris when he got cold feet?  You told him you’d make Henry regret ever setting foot outside this place.  You even had Joey right where you wanted him, you could’ve ended this.  But you didn’t.  And now look where ya are.”

Bendy glared at his reflection in silence for a moment before another impact on the door reminded him his situation.  “Lectures are the last thing I need right now, especially from you!”

The Bendy in the mirror let loose a savage laugh.  “There you go again, refusing someone’s help because you don’t like them.”

“You ain’t helping!”

“Aren’t I?  Ain’t acknowledgment of ya flaws the first step to making yourself better?”

“Why are you even still here?  You’re a one-note gag!”

“Dunno, maybe you can’t land a joke anymore.”  The reflection polished his knuckles against his chest.

The next attack nearly threw Bendy off the door.  He couldn’t keep this up.  It’d be matter of moments before the doppleganger busted the door down.  He was losing his head, ink began dribbling down from his scalp.  He worked as hard as he could to keep his grip, but his fingers ached, his arms were exhausted, and his back throbbed from the constant bashing.

“Do you know what he’s gonna do to you?”  The reflection reclaimed his attention.  “He’s gonna tear you to shreds.  Then he’s gonna take what’s left back to Joey, good ol’ Papa Drew.  And Joey’s gonna remake ya.  He’s gonna shove you in that machine, turn the spigot and pour out a brand new Bendy, a better one, one that’ll listen to him no matter what. You’ll be his perfect little toy, his final draft.”  He cocked his head to the side, “Now doesn’t that sound nice?”

“If you really wanna help me, then what say you help me?!”  Bendy screamed in desperation, waiting with dread for the next hit.

“Wanna know how it’ll go next?  He’ll make ya kill the rest of ‘em.  Boris, Alice, and Henry.  And you’ll do it, with bells on your toes.  Because you won’t care anymore.  Now, I wonder how.” It crossed its arms and looked upward thoughtfully.  “Ooh, if you want some ideas, you could trick Boris into drinking acetone.  Oh, that would be great!  If there’s anyone dumb enough, it’s him.”  The reflection cracked up at the idea and had to take a moment.  Meanwhile, Bendy’s body took another pounding form the monster outside.

“SHUT UP!”  Bendy roared.

“Alice and Henry are smarter though, so you’ll need to get them alone.  Shouldn’t be too hard.  Tell Alice you found Boris hurt ad need her help to bring him back, get somewhere nice and quiet, and then axe her up.  Or feed her to Sirob out there.”  Bendy was about to tell him once more to zip his lip, but, as if on cue, “Sirob” rammed the door again.  For just a moment, Bendy lost his grip and was thrown a few feet forward.  The door didn’t break down though, and he quickly scrambled back to it, resuming his barricade.

“Now what about Henry?” The mirror-bound-Bendy tapped his finger against his chin, thoughtfully.  After a moment, he snapped his fingers, “Oh, I got one!  Alright, so you know those war props you locked up?  Ya go find those, see?  Then you set up a nice little scene for him, a little slice of memory lane, he walks in, can’t help but…” he paused, searching for a word, “reminisce, and then while he’s havin’ his episode, you take care of him in whatever way you see fit.”

Bendy was trembling with pure, burning fury.  He glared daggers at the reflection, so angry that he couldn’t form words.

“And ya wanna know what’s real screwy about everything I just said?  I’m just a reflection, I’m you.  I’m just sayin’ what you’re already thinkin’.  You know Joey’s gonna use you like a pistol; point you at something, and make you kill it.”

The words hit Bendy’s ear in a funny way.  It was like he’d had a song on, but only just started paying attention to it.

Joey told him that the others used him and then threw him away when he wasn’t good enough.  Bendy trusted the man at his word.  He put his faith in the man who made him.  Then…

Too many mistakes.

Scrap everything and start again.

Joey’s words had been embedded into Bendy’s brain.  They haunted him.  They were his worst nightmare.

They were the exactly what Joey wasn’t supposed to do.

He’d just come back to use them…

They weren’t his children, they were tools.

What kind of sick joke…

Why was he laughing…

Why was the world getting smaller…

--

Finally, after trying again and again, the door gave way.  The wood splintered and it swung open, hanging on only one hinge.  The first thing ‘Boris’ noticed as he moved in was the splashing of ink with each step.  The floor was entirely covered with it, just deep enough to cover his paws.

It took less than a second to catch Bendy’s scent.  The entire room smelled like him.  This ink no doubt came from him.  It was dark; the only light that came in was from the doorway.  Even still, it was easy to see the room was mostly empty.  Only a sink and a mirror on the wall opposite from the door.  There was nowhere for Bendy to escape.  So where was he?

A shadow came into the pillar of light from the open door.  Even in the mirror it was just a silhouette but Bendy’s iconic outline was unmistakable. With a low growl, ‘Boris’ turned to face his prey, tensing his muscles to lunge.

But there was nothing there.

Startled by how quickly the smaller toon must have run out, the hound charged forward.  With a few bounds, he was back in the hallway, splashing black puddles out with him.  He looked vigilantly around for any inky footprints.  But there was nothing.  He hadn’t heard any splashing aside from his own either.  Still, he ran down to the nearest intersection on each side and looked around the corners.  Nothing.

A beckoning whistle came from the room, accompanied by Bendy’s voice, “Here boy.”

With snarling barks, the doppelganger ran back.  He threw his head all about, scanning for the little imp.  Once more, he found nothing but an empty room.  His growls grew louder as his frustration mounted.  He had heard Bendy, seen his shadow, his scent was all over the room, he had to be here.  But even after resorting to sweeping paws around the shallow layer of ink, he came up empty.  Finally, in a tantrum he could no longer hold, ‘Boris’ began howling, barking, and snapping into the ink, taking in mouthfuls and coating his teeth black.

When he was finally done, ‘Boris’ let himself heave breaths in and out for a moment, quelling the frustration and rage.  Ink was splashed all over the walls, leaving only a few planks unstained.

When it rose from the ink it was silent.  Not a splash, nor drop, nor ripple.

The ink on the walls began to spread.  In seconds they were enveloped completely.  Then it moved to the ceiling.  The mockery of Boris turned frantically, watching without understanding as the entire room was covered in the black liquid.  It was only when the ink reached the doorway and began covering it did he finally react. The dog bolted for the exit, rapidly losing confidence in his abilities.  But the void closed on the way out long before he got there, and solid wall was all he hit.

All light was gone. It was impossible to see.  Panic began seeping into ‘Boris’s’ very core. From his spot, he sprinted in the direction of another wall as fast as he could, hoping enough force would break through.

But he couldn’t find the wall.

He charged in a straight line, bracing himself, waiting to hit some barrier, but there wasn’t one. Finally, ‘Boris’ stopped, heaving again from the exertion.  The room wasn’t large, he should have hit something within a couple seconds.  But he had gone for nearly a minute.  The walls had disappeared.

Only now, he realized that his feet weren’t wet.  He hadn’t been splashing as he ran either.  In fact, his feet barely made any noise at all.  Hairs stood up on his back, he fidgeted nervously.  A crawling dread started in his legs and moved up his back.  New growls crept from the curled lips of the hound, but these were not angry; they were afraid, a vain attempt to ward off the threat that he knew was lurking, as well as to try and settle the growing pinpricks of discomfort throughout his body.

But no relief came. Those pinpricks grew into stabs and, finally, the hound let out a torrent of enraged barks, hoping the power of the echoes would embolden him a little.  Yet he was denied even that.  What was meant to be a savage announcement to anyone for miles instead seemed to travel only a few feet before being snuffed out by the oppressive abyss.

Somewhere off the in distance, someone succeeded where he failed.   A cackle, high-pitched and unhinged, echoed toward him, mocking him with the power of its volume.

Without being able to stop himself, ‘Boris’ whimpered and backed away from where he thought it came from. Papa Drew hadn’t said anything about this.  What was he supposed to do?  He couldn’t see, he couldn’t get out, he was helpless.

The sound of footsteps brought him out of his thoughts.  They were fast, much heavier, much greater than his.  And they were getting louder.

The last bastion of courage in the dog broke and he began running.  He had no idea where, but he had to get away, find someplace safe.  He worked his legs harder than he’d ever worked them before, he covered dozens of feet every second.  His body ached and his lungs burned, but he ignored them, panic pushed him onward.

Yet no matter how fast he went, the other footsteps were ever present, still growing louder, closer.

Out of nowhere, ‘Boris’ hit something.  His face flattened against the obstacle and he was thrown back a couple feet on his haunches.

Despite being so close, the curtain of black over his vision kept ‘Boris’ from seeing what it was.  He got back up and kept his head low, giving hollow, meaningless growls.

There was the scratch and snap of a match striking.  The tiny flame looked abnormally bright in the absolute darkness.  Its radius still barely went out a few feet before being swallowed up.  It was enough to partly illuminate the figure though.

The match was pinched between two fingers.  The hand was clad in the white gloves they all had, those fingers stretched and narrowed into claws.  A long pitch black arm led up to a tall, lanky figure.  Though the head was still in shadows, the white bowtie made it clear who it was.

The sight brought a resurgence of strength in the hound’s tired limbs.  Reminded of his purpose and finding it suddenly within his grasp, he defiantly barred his fangs and growled harder.

The figure did not react. It simply stood there, holding the match at waist level.

‘Boris’ crouched further, tensed his muscles, glared with pure fury at the figure’s throat, and lunged, opening his jaws to tear off the head.

But all his momentum was halted abruptly and a crippling pain lanced through him from his stomach outward. Shock clouded the dog’s mind, the suddenness and sheer scale of it was much more that he could process for a moment. He was suspended in the air now too. Slowly, the figure moved the match toward him, giving him a look at what had happened to him.

A black spike, curving smoothly up from the ground, pierced his middle.  The sight only brought more pain with it.  He put his hands to the perfectly flat surface, trying to get a grip, to push himself off.  It was a fruitless, pathetic endeavor.  He couldn’t hold back the whimpers of pain, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt not to move.

A second gloved hand came into the flame’s limited light.  It took ‘Boris’ gently by the chin and lifted his face upward.  The grip shifted, grabbing hold of the jaw more firmly.  It was like a vice, adding only more pain to the pile.  The hound tried to bite down, but his strength was gone, taken from him by the grievous wound.  

The hand began pulling downward, opening the jaw more and more, until it started to hurt.

The match was brought up just enough to show the perfect, straight white teeth of Bendy’s smile.  His chest rose a little as he inhaled, and he blew out the match.

There was a sickening crack, and a wet tearing noise.

[oceanpulls]

1994. photos by joseph cultice.

[aleprouswitch]

Aphex Twin by Joey Cultice, New York City, 1994.

[pawnshopsouls]

Musings: world travel or Rival Studio au?

//Okay, guys I need your opinions. I’m trying to think of a scenario that would explain Bonely’s presence in Joey Drew Studios. 

//On one hand, I have Bonely who lives in a world naturally full of dark and light magic. Here, jumping to other worlds is possible albeit kind of dangerous, and there’s a certain cultic group in his world that wants him out of the way. So for this option, these guys use their magic to connect an ink pool where Bonely’s at to the Studio, thus shoving Bonely right into the “Dark Puddle”/”Screaming Well of Voices” Alice talked about in-game. 

//However, because of the magic that brought him there, Bonely’s able to reassemble himself a bit better than the Searchers & Butcher’s Gang and comes out as a skeleton (specifically the one from the clip of the Graveyard picnic)+Charley/Piper mix (since those two are the closest to how he is and looks like normally). He’ll have trouble remembering things but once he remembers, he’ll know just what to do to get back home. That is, if, he remembers.

//On the other hand, there’s also the idea of him being a pure toon from a rival studio brought to life via a similar method to Joey’s (the whole ink machine thing) except rather than using Occult means, they use old Japanese sumi ink stones. This allows them to harness the sumi ink’s magical ability to make “living pictures” (like from the Japanese fairy tale, “The Boy who Drew Cats”) and the artist’s ability to “bring the character to life”, all in a convenient machine able to create real, living toons. Not all artists can do it but one managed to bring Bonely to life, and boy is he a handful!

//TBH I LIKE BOTH But I just don’t know which one would be better to work with rp wise? So yeah, any feedback would be appreciated!

[oceanpulls]

1994. photos by joey cultice.