thelastloop

[thelastloop]

Have you got anything in mind for the Alice Angel Chapter?

Oh what a fun question, thank you! 

In fact, I do! Chapter 3 is my favorite of the game and is going to get multiple chapters in my fic if I can get past my writers block for it.

I don’t want to spoil too much, at least publically (though if you don’t mind spoilers or me going off about my ideas you’re welcome to message off-anon asdghk) though haha.

If I can pull it off, we’re going to cover two different perspectives throughout the entire affair: Henry and Boris’s, and Sammy’s. How exactly and who goes where however, is a surprise. It’ll ALSO merge a lot with Chapter 4 because of those dual perspectives. I always wanted Heavenly Toys and Bendyland to play a little more together, and how Bertrum and ‘Malice’ interact is a particularly fun concept for me that I really hope to be able to articulate!

EDIT: Quick clarification because I realized like immediately after posting that the above paragraph might be very confusing with how Chapter 4 is typically played

I want them to play together as more than just leading to Brute Boris, since there is no Brute Boris in my AU, and I want Bertrum to have more visible power over Bendyland, not just his specific ride. ‘Malice’ still has the intercoms, but... yeah there’s some distinct differences. 

The part of Bertrum’s level of control has been played with by other people in the fandom, and I have my own sort of take on it in a similar vein.  EDIT DONE.

I’ll be honest, I have the entirety of The Last Loop planned out, it’s just the making words come out farther than detailed summaries part that’s really my struggle right now.

I’ll wrap this up with a final litte hint at some things taken directly from my summaries of each chapter of the fic. This directly leads into the Alice Angel Chapter:

‘Malice’ is alerted early of their presence. Forget trying to force the story forward, it’s too late for that now. It’s time for a reset.

[thelastloop]

My grand entrance back to this blog is a meme. I’m so... proud? disappointed? asdhgjk

The Ink Demonth Day 1: Cake

Ok I had to parody that mafia cake comic come on

Featuring my Joey (in the cake) and Henry!

[thelastloop]

A ref for lil Alice Angel!

To clarify this is the original design for Alice, and her actual existence is in this form

But the other Alice design exists too, just in the cartoons! Now why is another question entirely :3c

[thelastloop]

Finally, he looked at him, still dripping. “My lord wishes, and I—but the humble servant—I obey,” he whispered, not a trace of his previous pride in his voice. “Where do you will me?”

A little gift to @ichaisme to celebrate @thelastloop hitting both 1000 hits and 100 kudos over on AO3! You should really check it out!! Sucha great story!

[thelastloop]

So, my fic just hit 100 kudos and has over 1000 hits on AO3, and I want to cry

Gonna keep trying to promote the heck out of it around tumblr too because I really do love this au and I want it to be more than what I’ve made it so far, just slapping a chapter down and walking away til the next one akfna

You guys are amazing!!

[thelastloop]

Chapter 7: Nice Hat

Read from the beginning or Read on AO3

The gang meets up with an old friend.

While Henry was glad not to have Sammy’s outright disdain, the silence he found far more unnerving. Everywhere they went, every tape they played, was followed by an almost deadly quiet. The prophet had no words to give. Something in him hated to know he was unhappy, and in particular that he caused it.

Even with that weight on his mind, it took all of Henry’s effort not to curse at the sight of the pipe with no valve. “How about that, another puzzle,” he muttered through grit teeth. “Where ever could that have gone to?”

His body already knew the answer, heading for the stairwell as he spoke. |The sewers.| The ink demon had to stoop to fit through the stairwell, but seemed determined to use conventional means of getting down the stairs this time. 

“...We’re going to see Jack?”

Sammy’s soft question brought him to a screeching halt. For whatever reason, the idea that the names they had in life were used at all startled the animator. His next words tumbled from his mouth before his brain could catch up, “You know him?” He grimaced, “No, of course you know him. You remember him? You remember his name?”

“You’re not the only one who can listen to those tapes. I know his name. I know he has no allegiance, and I consider him my friend. That is enough.”

The prophet did not stop. He slipped past both Henry and his lord, stepping into the river of ink. Suddenly, the oppressive sound of nothingness took over the studio floor, and the animator had to grip the wall to keep his focus. No more whispers. No more dripping. For just this moment, the studio was truly silent. And just as quickly, it was back again, and the prophet turned his head back toward them again. “He is here, and he does have the valve.”

Henry stared. “Did you… do that?”

As with all his questions so far, Sammy ignored it. “Shall we proceed?” The animator sighed, but nodded, taking up the rear now as they continued their pursuit. Another fetch quest. Another chance to just… let go, and get it over with. The faster they could make some real progress, the better.

----

“Okay, you need to be on your best behavior, or Joey’s gonna give me an earful,” Henry teased lightly, patting the squirming little bundle in his arms. “I know you’re excited, but you have to keep in mind that no one else is quite like Joey. They may not be as… open, to all of this. Remember my reaction?” 

Finally they settled, and the young man smiled, hugging the bundle gently before knocking on the door to the recording room. The soft noises of piano and violin that had drifted through the wood stopped. 

“Come in!” 

Henry’s smile widened hearing Jack’s voice, “Well, how about that? Two for one! It’s showtime.”

He pushed the door open, gesturing for his taller companion to wait as he slipped inside, covering the bundle in his arms a little more carefully with the blanket. Sammy sat at the piano, fingers still poised expectantly over the keys. Jack had pulled up a chair nearby, leaning down now to carefully set his violin back in its case.

The composer glanced up from his sheet music only briefly, flashing a wry smile at Henry. “This better be important, Stein, if you’re interrupting us when the recording light is on.” His tone indicated he was only /mostly/ serious about his warning.

Jack, however, was more focused on the blankets in his arms, looking both curious and excited as he asked,  “Is that…? Oh Henry, I thought Linda wasn’t that far along yet!” 

Henry flushed pink, watching Sammy fully look up now, equally confused. “Oh! NO, no, she’s still pregnant! I would have told you if I was leaving for that!” 

“Then what are you carrying?”

...Moment of truth. Henry took a bracing breath, glancing down at his arms. “So, you know how Joey has his little… quirks?” Almost instantly, a frown took over Sammy’s face. He swallowed hard and continued, “Well… he’s at it again, and this time… he actually got some results. Sammy? Jack? Meet Bendy.”

As he shifted the blanket, he watched their eyes widen in shock. Bendy gladly wriggled free of the cloth, flashing that on-model, signature smile first at Henry, then at the new people before him. 

“Can I come down now, Henry, pleaaase? I won’t run this time!”

But Henry still held tightly to him for now, silently begging the pair not to freak out with his best rendition of ‘puppy dog eyes’. Tense silence reigned. Sammy bit his lip hard, focusing for the moment on closing the cover on the piano, trying to keep in what Henry knew were likely some choice words about Joey ‘playing god’. The lyricist, meanwhile, fiddled with his fingers, taking some bracing breaths to calm himself. Bendy’s enthusiasm dwindled at the sight. At least it wasn’t yelling this time, but still… the only person who’d been excited to meet them so far was Joey himself. 

Jack broke first. “Bendy… is alive?” While Henry could tell it took all of his effort to keep his voice level, he appreciated the attempt, slowly nodding as he set the little devil down. Then he gestured to the door. Boris nervously came in to join him. 

“Bendy… and Boris. Seems he got a handle on that magic of his… I know this is a lot to take in, but they’re safe. I can say that much. They’re just children, even if they’re not /human/ children.”

After some consideration, Jack sighed softly, gesturing for the toons to come forward. Where Boris took one step closer, Bendy ran over at a full sprint before Henry could stop him, hugging the lyricist tight. Jack jumped, startled. However, when it became clear no harm was intended, he couldn’t help but chuckle and return the embrace. “Well, they’re sweet little guys, I’ll give you that. Or…” He stifled another laugh, “Maybe not so little. Boris /is/ taller than you.”

Henry simply rolled his eyes, turning his attention now to the one whose opinion was a lot more up in the air.

“...Thoughts, Sammy?”

The composer, who’d kept his gaze squarely on the floor, immediately looked up at Henry’s question. The hopeful look on the animator’s face brought a pale red coloring to his cheeks, and he quickly glanced away again.

“You don’t want my thoughts.”

Henry chuckled softly, understanding but happy he’d at least kept it down, “Well, can we live with this at least? They’re already here. Not like they’re going anywhere.”

Sammy nodded, though reluctantly, “Guess I have to. Boris! How do you like music?” The immediate perking of ears told him everything he needed to know, and he gestured for the wolf to follow him, “Just like your character, I should have guessed. Well then, let me show you around. This is where the /real/ magic happens…”

----

As they came upon Jack, Sammy could feel his mood lighten. One of the rare points of happiness in this hellscape was the former lyricist’s jolly nature. In the sewers, other searchers rarely traveled. It was a ‘safe’ area, and Jack rarely sunk back into the well of voices for any extended period of time. He was more present than most as a result. It was… refreshing, getting to see him, like visiting a friend. And this time, the visit had more of a purpose, which he hoped would improve his standing with the ink demon once more. But as he started to stop, trying to consider his approach, Henry kept moving. 

At first, the prophet merely watched him walk forward, staying close by the ink demon. It seemed like he had a plan in mind, and he didn’t dare try to correct him. Yet, how he approached Jack confused him. Every time Henry grew close, the swollen searcher vanished into the ink, valve in hand, and reappeared elsewhere in the room. Henry seemed undeterred, silently following after him, driving Jack in a new direction every time. Sammy cocked his head, trying to make sense of it. What was the point of this game of keep away? 

And then.

And then he appeared under the hanging boxes. 

“He’s going to crush him,” he whispered, horror in his voice. A quick glance at the ink demon showed he was undeterred. Sammy hesitated more, anxiety growing with every step towards the levers Henry made, “He’ll go back to the puddles. He’ll become like every other searcher or lost one here.” 

Did that only matter to him? With one more hesitant glance, he chanced calling out, “Henry, wait! We can talk!” 

But Henry didn’t seem to hear, blankly continuing forward. Now a low whine shuddered out from Bendy, and he lurched forward just as his hand touched the down lever. Henry still didn’t react. Sammy hurried over to join, grabbing him by the shoulder to pull him back despite his resistance. 

Like a switch flipping, the second he was separated from his objective, the animator’s struggles suddenly stopped. The light came back to his eyes, along with a look of confusion, first at Bendy, then at Sammy. “...Why am I being strong-armed right now?”

“What do you mean, why? You were completely unresponsive!” The prophet shrank back from his own tone, quickly correcting himself, “Are you sure you’re… sound?”

Henry raised a brow. “...Yes?” |Of course he was. If anything, he was the only one who was.| “If you don’t like my plan, then what is your suggestion?”

Sammy nodded to him, then hesitantly stepped away. “Jack.”

The searcher paused. That was enough permission for the prophet, stepping closer. “We need that.”

What sounded like incomprehensible gurgles to Henry was a heated negotiation for Sammy. The animator noticed a faint gold glow, visible to the naked eye, emanating from behind the mask. Eventually though, the swollen searcher passed over the valve, playfully tipping his hat before disappearing into the ink once more. Sammy shook it briefly in celebration, like one would a tamborine. 

“I know where to go next.”

[thelastloop]

FINALLY, a proper ref for Henry!

My pencil marks wouldn’t erase for some reason so it’s not as clean as I would like it to be;;

But he’s a sweet man and he’s happy to meet you!

[thelastloop]

bday gift for @ichaisme <3

iIy so much, you’re such a sweetheart TToTT here’s your man,,,

[thelastloop]

Eyyy this AU isn’t dead! Just undergoing some redesigns before I get back to writing. My art’s improved massively since we began. Meet Aconite, my Joey! I should also say he’s 5’4” and delighted to meet you <3

[thelastloop]

Chapter 6: Tally

Read from the beginning or Read on AO3

Henry learns a lot of things. He sees even more. What to do with this information, and what is even useful? That's another story. 

VOICES.

All indiscernible whispers, but some gentle, some sad, some furious. Quiet tones murmured so constantly they rang deafeningly loud in his ears.

Blackness, total yet moving—no, swirling—around him.

The feeling of constantly being touched, yet knowing there was nothing around to touch him.

He was standing (but when) in a long, dark tunnel (but where?). The instant he moved (at least, he thought he did), orange and white spun together like an entrance, beckoning him towards it. The voices got louder once the entrance (or exit?) formed, and he felt the urge to see where it led, yet… this urge felt so foreign to him. It tugged on his mind so lightly, almost a suggestion instead of an attack on all other thoughts, so convincing he almost moved, but—

A shift.

Fear. Suddenly the noise in his ear gained clarity. The whispers rioted.

“No…”

“Please, leave-!”

“RUN!”

The former animator listened.

“|HENRY|.” One voice, crystal clear in the blackness, so disturbingly familiar it sent a shiver up his spine and yet he couldn’t place it.

A glance revealed an arm, untainted by ink, reaching for him through the blackness. Instead of relief at seeing something unmistakably human, he only felt horror watching it draw closer. He stopped moving, mind at war. Half demanded he listen to the voices and run, and the other…

|Wait.|

|WAIT.|

|NO—!|

Something else reached him first, suddenly grabbing him and yanking him to the side, away from both the hand and the exit, into the whispers now screaming—

And just as suddenly, he was expelled from that blackness, the hand making one final lunge for him before disappearing along with everything else. Henry lay sprawled on the studio floor, every inch of him trembling with pain. A low rumble above him slowly pulled his attention upwards. Bendy stared down, head tilted questioningly to one side in a caricature of concern. All he could do was groan and tense. His gaze flicked around the room, and he realized with a sick sense of relief that he knew exactly where they were.

“I… need a hand, buddy…” The ink demon stared questioningly at the outstretched hand a moment longer before giving him a tug, Henry hissing out some choice words as he was dragged to his feet.

He staggered down the hallway. The exit door taunted him, inaccessible due to the giant hole where he’d fallen in before. They were back on the top floor.

“You… brought me back up.”

Bendy chirped affirmatively.

“How?!” he demanded, only briefly feeling guilty as the ink demon bowed its head. Why was he even asking? Bendy couldn’t answer him, only chirp and trill and groan, like a cross between an animal and a bug. After a moment, he shook his head, leaning heavily against the wall. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. We’re up here now. That’s something.”

Bendy held out his other hand. In his grip was the seeing tool. Henry gratefully took it. At least he could check out what the ‘little’ devil was so agitated about. “Alright, Bendy. What do you want me to see?”

The first hidden message lay next to the exit sign, adding ‘OR DIE’ to the side. Seemed self-explanatory, if confusing. Who could have written it? Judging by the displeased grumble, that wasn’t what he was supposed to look at. He glanced at the hole curiously.

I always fall.

Henry grimaced, stomach twisting without fully knowing why. The hole was new! Why ‘always’? Another grumble, louder and more frustrated behind him. The animator shot him an exasperated look. “Bendy, if you have something specific for me to see, you need to actually show me where to point this thing.”

The ink demon placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him towards the posters. Henry raised a questioning brow. The demon just pointed again. With a sigh, he brought the glass back to his face.

His eyes widened as he stared at the countless markings that littered the wall, confusion mixing with deep-seated, horrible recognition that he couldn’t quite yet place.

Tally marks. He slowly exhaled, reaching out towards the very end of the list, running a thumb down that final line.

“Where did these—or, how… how do you get a new tally? Who put these here?”

Bendy jabbed him in the back.

“…Me? When? I didn’t—”

No.

He had. Completely reflexively, he didn’t even give the poster a glance as he did it in passing.

Hesitantly he moved his finger further up the wall. Where his memory failed, his body remembered: the second the digit touched the softly glowing marking, searing pain ripped through his body, across his back, flashes of injuries attacking him at all angles and driving him to his knees with a choked noise. The seeing tool clattered to the floor. His arms quickly followed, trying to brace himself.

Next came the visions.

Faces flashed in front of his eyes. Faces tied to events. Faces tied to deaths.

Putting a reel in a throne. A beast dissolving to white.

An apartment. A familiar apartment, housing familiar face, filling him with hate.

The entrance they were in, playing in a horrible loop, all slightly different yet everything that mattered never wavered.

“There’s something I want to show you.”

He gasped, only then realizing Bendy had pulled him up and started shaking him, whimpering and whining. As his eyes finally focused on the demon, he was pulled into a tight hug. Too dazed to really fight it, he let him do so until the fog on his mind cleared.

“I… I remember,” he muttered, and Bendy made a questioning trill. Henry added, a little louder, “…Somewhat. Fits and bursts. I think… if I kept trying out tally marks I could get more back, but like hell am I going through that again. Once is enough… Is that all you wanted me to see?”

The demon nodded, and the ex-animator groaned as he pushed himself away. Next question. “How did you find out?”

A long silence, before Bendy pointed at him. His mind went back to the audio log full of static.

Seemed like there was some use to it after all. Now they just needed a way to proceed. What use did this knowledge give him? A better idea of the people he might encounter (even if all he remembered was in glimpses), perhaps. It did give him an idea… one that combined Bendy’s awareness and Sammy’s… extra pair of hands? A chance to reunite and possibly rescue his old friend, but he didn’t dare dwell on that thought. Not with the prophet’s mind the way it was. He’d move the former musician away from being just a demonic lackey, but that may take some time.

“We should return to Sammy.”

Only after he spoke did he realize what he would have to do to GET back down. As Bendy turned to head back to the sigil, Henry stayed rigid, conflicted and worried. “W-wait, no, you are NOT putting me through that again!” His eyes scrunched shut, gripping the sides of his head. “Those voices, that hand, that pain… not again. Can’t I just hop through the hole again? Sure, that injured my—” He’d moved to show off his injury for emphasis… only to find his palm completely smooth.

“—My hand…” It looked like nothing happened. A thousand questions ran through his head, but the one that left his mouth played a very familiar tune. “What did you do to me?”

Of course Bendy didn’t answer, only stared. Henry wasn’t sure if it was because the demon didn’t know, or if he did and just didn’t have the means to say it. But, the ink demon did shuffle back to his side and tug on his arm. A request to follow. Henry wordlessly obeyed. That was easier said than done by the time they reached the sigil, though, Henry hesitating just in front of it. The ink demon grumbled again and gave him a little shove.

He reached out to catch himself on the sigil.

When that didn’t happen, he plunged straight through the wall and fell face-first to the floor with a yelp. He lay there a moment, staring wide-eyed at the makeshift walkway before him, until he saw Bendy walk over him with a pleased chirp.

“You knew that would happen,” he commented, pushing himself back to his feet. The demon whistled and nodded. Now it was his turn to grumble, resignedly following.

Hands reached out through the slats at him, but before he could fully react to the sight, Bendy hissed loudly. While Henry jumped, the hands yanked back, and the murmurs grew louder. Even with the knowledge he’d regained, all of… this… confused him. Realization hit.

“I’ve never seen this before,” he breathed. Bendy made an affirmative noise. He paused, having to take a moment just to let it soak in. “This is new…”

After so long of doing everything thousands of times, becoming so numb to it all that death received the barest of emotional responses, the idea that something could still be new… well, it was almost enough to give him a little hope for a change. In fact, the more he thought, the more he realized he’d never done before. Just existing the way he did, still being emotional, getting to be much closer to the Henry that first walked into the building however many years now ago… it awed him. The script was changing, and though part of him whispered to |go back to the familiar, to give up on what he knew would fail|, he found it ever easier to push that voice aside.

As they made their way out of the sigil they first came from, Henry noted Sammy patiently waiting to the side, hands clasped together as if in prayer. He seemed to notice the animator first, shoulders slumping. Henry raised a brow. “Yes? Glad you react now, and not when I’m being ripped apart.”

“…How?” The question came so… weak. Quiet. Upset, even.

“How what?”

“You are… you. How is that possible?” Sammy made a frustrated noise that he couldn’t quite place, and his next statement came with an accusatory edge. “Why YOU?”

That set Bendy off. A low growl rumbled from him, and the prophet froze. Despite his reverence for the ink demon, he seemed to scare him—petrify him, really. Bendy advanced, darkness seeping up through the floorboards in wisps and tendrils that curled around Sammy’s feet as he backed up, until he hit the wall. One large hand wrapped around his throat, lifting him. The prophet desperately tried to claw the hand off, choked noises of pain escaping him yet somehow still able to speak,

“M-my lord, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I will never question your judgement again, please—!”

“Bendy!”

Both stopped, looking at Henry.

“Put him down.”

Bendy whined.

“DOWN.”

Slowly, the demon set his prophet back on the ground.

Sammy stared, first at Henry, then at his own hands. Henry watched him with concern. “Are you okay, Sammy?”

He didn’t answer. Ink started to pool and drip beneath the mask on either side of his chin.

“Sammy…?”

Finally, he looked at him, still dripping. “My lord wishes, and I—but the humble servant—I obey,” he whispered, not a trace of his previous pride in his voice. “Where do you will me?”

[thelastloop]

And under the spell of the crackling music of the little radio, they became each other’s universe.

[thelastloop]

Thank you and requests!

Oh wow. So this fic has hit 500 views on AO3, which is very... unbelievable. I never expected it to pick up like it has! So thank you all so much! It’s been a bit since my last chapter, because of the rush for finals and applications and other miscellaneous issues (taking a break from furiously studying for my hardest final just to post this, buuuut let’s not talk about that). I should be able to have the next chapter up next week, and I’m excited to have a little time again to be able to do this writing again! 

Additionally, I wanted to put out a call for requests: if anyone would like to ask questions to any BATIM character on here that I can answer in-character to this AU, I’d love that. So far we’ve really only touched on Henry, Sammy, Bendy, and Johnny in the fic, but no one is off-limits.

Or, I’ve also been dabbling in snippets, and if there’s a pairing you’d like to see, a prompt you’d like fleshed out, et cetera, after tomorrow I’d be happy to try my hand at it! This is not fic-specific or AU-specific, so you’re welcome to go nuts. Good luck to those of you still in finals like me, and have a great night/day!

[thelastloop]

Chapter 5: Sacrifice

Face to face at last-- with Sammy, and with the beast that has helped and hindered him so far.

Content warning: violence (it’s fairly vague but the implications are graphic)

“There we go now. Nice and tight. We wouldn’t want our sheep roaming away now, would we? No, we wouldn’t.” Henry came to with a strange sense of déjà vu, like a nagging buzz in the back of his head as Sammy spoke. The words became little more than static as his brain tried to catch up with his body, numbly watching the prophet set his tools out of reach. Clarity snapped back to him when the ink man paused. “Wait! You look familiar to me…” He silently struggled against his bonds, wanting to say something, ANYTHING to tell him he knew him. Henry remembered, even if Sammy didn’t! Whatever happened, they could fix it! They could try to find out how to, if only Sammy would trust him enough to let him go! But no, the crushing feeling of futility bound him just as tight as the rope did. Sammy turned, mumbling dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. Little sheep, we welcome you back to the flock. The time of sacrifice is at hand…” Soon he was gone. Henry could see his axe and the seeing tool just in front of him, taunting him. If he could just… break free of these ropes, he’d be able to defend himself from what was sure to come. Now he understood why that beast waited before. He was toying with him! He couldn’t sit by and die like… well, like a lamb brought to slaughter. He redoubled his efforts. An unusual surge of strength ripped through him, and he suddenly burst free of his bonds. He lunged for the axe and tool just as more ink creatures emerged from the bubbling puddles. He readied himself for a fight. … But nothing moved. They just… sat where they formed. Watching him. Waiting. He lowered the axe slightly in confusion. “Shhh. Quiet! Listen! I can hear him. Crawling above. Hear me, Bendy! Arise from the darkness and claim my offering!” Sammy spoke over the loudspeaker, more frantic with every word that spilled from his mouth. They were waiting for their master. He considered running, but the decision was made for him. When he turned to leave, the ink demon appeared in the exit in all his glory. Something felt wrong about this. ALL of this. He wasn’t supposed to stop him. But now, he was face to face with the beast. He should run. He KNEW he should run. Every part of his body screamed for it, but something kept him standing there, transfixed. Neither moved. Even the abominations of barely human-esque ink waited with bated breath. Could they breathe? He shook his head quickly. Focus. The ink demon started to move, lifting one arm to slowly point at the device in his grip. Did he… want him to use it? Muscles tense and mind demanding he flee, he brought his so-called seeing tool to his face. Someone managed to draw on the ink demon. Eyes. Happy, pie cut eyes that, combined with the smile he’d found so terrifying just moments ago, made a very familiar face. “…Bendy?” The creature purred at the name. Just like that, the world broke from its trance. The amalgamations lurched towards him again, and Henry readied his axe. To his surprise, Bendy joined in the fight, easily smashing them back into the puddles they came from. Between the two of them, they made quick work of the few left in the room. Henry took a shaky breath. “You’re really… supposed to be him,” Henry whispered, looking back at the demon. It seemed so wrong. He couldn’t just /be/ Bendy. Not with Sammy the way he was, and those… things, the way they were. The ink demon just stared, making a miniscule motion that Henry decided to interpret as a shrug. “We’ll find out eventually, buddy.” “NO!” His head jerked up to stare at the loudspeakers. Sammy didn’t sound happy. The line went dead as the prophet raced back to the room, agitated in body movement, if not in expression. “How did you survive?!” Sammy cut off abruptly once he caught sight of the demon just feet away. “M-my lord… What is going on? Do you reject this sheep?” Bendy shuffled closer to Henry, towering over him a moment before simply flopping over. Henry grunted at the sudden weight, panic bubbling up as he felt ink writhe over him. Then Bendy wrapped his arms around him. He was hugging him? He was trying to, at least. It didn’t seem like he could bend his legs, on further inspection. Hesitantly, he tilted slightly up so he could hug the ink demon’s torso. The gangly creature purred again. He tried to ignore the movement under his fingers, pulsing ink slithering around in constant circulation over Bendy’s body. An uncomfortable, yet strangely soothing minute passed before the demon pulled back once more, attention back on the prophet. The poor man radiated confusion, despite the obscuring mask. “I can try to explain,” Henry offered, stepping towards him. Sammy shook his head quickly, focus entirely on the demon. “Oh, come on, Sammy. He can’t speak as far as I’ve seen-“ “NO! I-I don’t know how you did this, but my lord has NEVER rejected one of my offerings before!” Henry sighed, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t say your… offering, was ‘rejected’, per say.” The prophet ignored him though, instead approaching Bendy entreatingly, arms spread open. “Tell me, my lord… what have I done? Why have you rejected this sacrifice? I will make it right! Just tell me how…” Bendy didn’t respond, except to step away from him into the ‘exit’. Sammy obediently followed, until they reached a familiar piece of ink writing on the wall. He pointed to one of Sammy’s writings, He Will Set Us Free scrawled. He put particular emphasis on ‘he’, then gestured excitedly to Henry. Sammy scratched his head. “…I was referring to you with that, my lord…” he murmured, sounding confused. Bendy shook his head and pointed again at Henry, more aggressively this time. Sammy sighed. “…I am your shepherd, and I am your prophet. If you believe in this man, I shall follow.” Henry grimaced, insisting, “But how can I help you? I don’t know what’s going on…” The ink demon chirped in displeasure. Henry frowned back, crossing his arms defensively. “Do you know something I don’t?” Bendy nodded, grabbing him by the wrist before he could protest and dragging him over to a sigil on the wall. He paused there, staring at Henry for a reaction. The man gave him a puzzled look back. He chirruped again, sinking his free hand INTO the sigil. Henry’s eyes widened. “I don’t think I can do that, Bendy.” He didn’t give him another choice, slowly pulling Henry closer as he stepped in. As soon as Henry’s hand met the wall, they came to a hard stop. Bendy poked his head back out inquisitively. “Like I said,” Henry commented, gesturing to his hand pressed flat against the sigil, “I can’t do that.” An annoyed noise escaped the ink demon. It stepped back out of the sigil and stepped in front of Henry to push him flush against the wall. Henry chuckled good-naturedly. “Bendy, I promise you, I’m stuck. You can’t-” The words died on his lips. His eyes widened in surprise and fear. Something grabbed his leg. A long, spindly, inky arm wrapped its claw-like fingers around his ankle. Almost as soon as he noticed it, another arm burst through the wall, gripping his arm. He gasped and squirmed, trying to pull away as more and more arms reached from the sigil to clutch and— And pull him back, painfully back crushing like a vice between their hands and the wall— But the ink demon’s hands kept him firmly trapped. “Bendy, please-!” A hand snaked around to cover his mouth, muffling his agonized cries. With one sickening crunch, the impossible became possible, and searing pain enveloped him as the hands yanked him through.

[thelastloop]

Chapter 4: ‘Memories’

The beginning

As Henry travels further into the studio he used to call home, old and new collide.

The silence and the dim light of the candles reassured Henry, and he lay where he landed until the spinning sensation and the darkness swallowing the corners of his vision subsided. He winced as he pushed himself to his feet, pushing through the stabbing pain from his bleeding hand. Now he could take a proper look at what stood before him. Coffins. Inwardly he panicked. What happened here? The creature’s offerings lay at the base of the coffins, next to a fire axe: an audio log and what looked like a small windowpane attached to a lever. His brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle out what their purpose was. |Leave that monster’s worthless possessions. Take the axe and go. | Before he could think he’d already half-turned away, good hand outstretched towards the weapon. Then he reconsidered. No, that thing had left these for a reason! He wanted to know why! But he’d already turned in spite of himself, pulling the axe towards him. |LEAVE.| The thought persisted, louder this time. He grimaced. Despite every fiber of his being protesting, he slowly set the axe back down, and crouched down in front of the items. The audio log emitted a loud, grinding static tone as it was played. |See? Worthless. Leave it.| He ignored the passing thought and reached for the device next. Now this… he had no idea what to do with this. He couldn’t even tell WHAT this was. Peering through the glass in the middle revealed nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seemed just as worthless as he continued to insist. Then he noticed the switch on top. He flicked it on, and the lights dotting the inside sparked to life. Names. He could see names now. Norman and Grant, glowing yellow as labels for each coffin. To his left, the wall read Say Hello to Sammy. His old coworkers… He raised a hand to his mouth, tears pricking at his eyes as he looked on in horror. The studio had made Joey far worse, this he knew… but there were some lines he thought even Joey wouldn’t cross… clearly, he was wrong. The fall gave him two options: try to find the way back up or keep moving forward. He decided on the latter. Someone had to confront Mr. Drew; who better than his ‘best pal’? Henry grabbed the axe, shoving the seeing tool deep within his pocket just as he heard something click on the other side of the door. While it was hard to discern the exact words, it was the familiar tone and lilt of the voice that began to speak that sent a wave of recognition through him. The music director. The thorn in everyone’s side. His friend. Samuel Lawrence. He threw open the door. As the voice grew clearer, he realized that it wasn’t the man whose voice he heard, but another godforsaken audio log. He mumbled the words ‘Can I get an amen?’ bitterly as the tape ended, unsure why he knew them but hating them all the same. “I said, ‘Can I get an amen’?” A shiver ran down his spine. Now THAT… that voice was no recording. He sounded so close. Henry raced towards the source and axed through the boards blocking his path, barely giving the veritable river of ink a second glance before beginning to wade through. He had to get through to the other side before he missed him. “Sheep, sheep, sheep, it’s time for sleep…” Henry froze. The… creature, that came into view of the doorway was no man at all. He was man-shaped, perhaps, but covered in—perhaps even made of—ink. He was mannequin-esque: no hair or discernable facial features. A mask whose visage he couldn’t quite place covered the rest of his head. It left a chilling mockery of the stern but kind man he remembered. What had been done to him? What did Joey do to him? “In the morning, you make wake-” The ink man moved past the doorway now. Henry scrambled to catch up as the voice disappeared. “Hey! Wait, please!” “-Or in the morning, you’ll be dead.” Sammy had vanished. To Henry’s left, a Bendy cutout and a sigil on the wall gave no answers. To his right, yet another hallway, with a similar dead end. Where in the world could he have gone? The cutout grinned in silence, as if mocking him with answers he couldn’t yet understand. Watching. Judging. He let out a groan of frustration and cut the damn thing down. He hurried to the end of the hall, hoping that maybe there’d be some clue of where the ink man had vanished to. No such luck. The wall to his left stood shuttered closed, powered by 3 switched that apparently weren’t turned on. He gritted his teeth. Another puzzle… A sense of sinking dread overwhelmed him, telling him this was just the start of all the tedious ways Joey would extend his stay in this personal Hell. It irritated him, but his only option was to play along… unless maybe the symbols in the sigil had something to offer. How he intended to interpret them, he didn’t know, but at least it’d be a straw to grasp at. The cutout stood grinning in the way. His eyes widened. “How in the world did—but I swear I just…” he mumbled, placing a shaky hand on the cardboard figure. All it did was stare. He grimaced. Maybe… he would think twice about cutting down any more standees. Finding the switches didn’t take long. As the shutter blocking off the next room lifted, Henry couldn’t help but smile. Now he knew where he fell to: The music department. If he wasn’t sitting cramped at his desk, he’d always bring his work to either the band room or the organ room. Music soothed his aches and pains, and the two men most responsible for said music soothed his nerves. Of course Sammy, dedicated head of the department, still hung around the area… a sobering thought, yet strangely comforting. Maybe he still remembered. He stepped inside. Lights flickered on with a distinct fluorescent hum, and music crackled to life. The cheerful tune eerily echoed through the main entrance, empty aside from the ink that seemed to permeate everything. Another step forward triggered something else—a chorus of choking growls and gurgles drowned out the music, and Henry watched in horror as the puddles of ink violently burst. From the blackness rose creatures much like Sammy, but… half-formed, melting into themselves and reforming as they dripped ink. They dragged themselves towards him. Instinct took over, fear swallowed by cool determination as he advanced on them. |They’re weak! | One vanished into nothingness at a slice from his axe. He bit back a groan as the impact dug deep into his wounded palm. |They’re monsters! I have to kill them! | He lunged again, and another dissolved back into its puddle. A strange haze took over him, almost beside himself as his body just… moved. -- His head pounded. The lack of sleep was starting to affect his work, shaky hands ruining several perfectly good sketches. He couldn’t leave the studio, though. Not with the deadlines running so close together. He rubbed his temples hard, hoping for a bit of relief as he closed his eyes. Nothing. Nothing but the gentle tones of a violin. The band must be practicing. He slowly heaved himself out of his chair, gathering pencils and papers together. Maybe a change of scenery would help his creative juices flow. The music stopped partway through his trip down. As he approached, ignoring the glowing ‘recording’ sign above the door, he could hear they weren’t really ‘practicing’ anymore. Sammy was too busy giving a lecture. “You’re off-tempo and too loud! What are you trying to do, blow out our equipment? We can’t afford to replace it! Why don’t you show a little consideration and play competently, instead of—” The music director paused, turning to face the door as it opened. Henry stared back, clutching his armful of supplies a little tighter. “…Stein.” Sammy pinched the bridge of his nose, “Did we interrupt something? Or do you have more work for me.” He slowly shook his head, “I was hoping to sit in, actually.” The irritated look melted off his face, and his brows knit together in confusion. “…Really?” “I know you’re never satisfied with it, but I still think you all make very good music, Sammy. I’ll be quiet, I pormise. I just need something more stimulating than staring at a wall.” Sammy offered a wry smile, but quickly shook it off as he turned back to the group. “Hear that? You’re more stimulating than staring at a wall. Now that’s what I call progress. And… Henry. As long as you’re silent, I suppose you can stick around.” Henry quickly slipped in, closing the door behind him. The band room certainly had a lot more to offer than his one-desk ‘animation department’. Posters, instruments, the hustle and bustle of people… it was nice. He settled himself by the piano, since it seemed they weren’t using it just yet. Sammy watched him flit around, and once he seemed situated, the man nodded, grabbing at his sheet music. “Well… maybe with an audience, you’ll play at a more human volume.” After a while, Sammy completely forgot about the intruder in his work space. At least, Henry hoped he did. Work quickly slipped by the wayside, and before he knew it, he drifted in and out of slumber, only waking if one of the players let out an especially loud note. The silence, ironically, is what fully pulled him away from sleep. Hushed murmurs he couldn’t quite discern, followed by one particularly harsh whisper: “If any of you wake him, I’ll kill you.” Quiet footsteps quickly retreated in multiples of two. Just a single set of footsteps remained, slowly drawing close until they sounded right next to where he’d curled up. Instead of a rough hand waking him, he felt something soft drape over him: a blanket. Sammy just laid a blanket over him. The music director tsked disapprovingly. “Idiot. Don’t work yourself to death here. It’s not worth it.” A pause. “Ah, but who am I to say?” The footsteps started to leave, and just as Henry settled down to hopefully get some more sleep, the door slammed open. “WHERE IS HENRY!” --- Henry jumped, clutching his chest as his heart threatened to leap out of his ribcage. Instruments, chairs, recording equipment… when did he end up in the band room? And why did he feel like he was being watched? It seemed empty on the floor, but his eyes trailed upward, and… There. Up in the projector room. He gaped at the sight of the cardboard figures, ever-smiling from their perch. They moved back and forth wherever he wasn’t, from projection room to band floor, avoiding him but still monitoring his progress… The shadows of the music director followed him, in audio logs and physical presence. It made every inch of hair stand on end. But all he could do was keep pushing. Any moment of rest could be his last, he reminded himself. His white-knuckled grip on the axe never faltered, even as he went through Sammy’s puzzles and entered the sanctuary. The ink struck him first. Sing a happy song Whistle a Happy tune Wait for his arrival He’s coming very soon The whispers followed, louder and more insistent as he grew close to the ink valve. Something inside him hesitated. Sammy… listened to this, day in and day out. It scared him. But all he could do was turn off the flow and try to move as quickly as possible. Upon glancing up at the projection room to count how many watched now, he realized a new presence waited for him. Henry stared up at the prophet, silently surrounded by cutouts and watching him in return. He tried to speak. His mouth felt glued shut, the only sound escaping him a quiet, sad noise he was sure the music director couldn’t hear. With considerable effort, he shakily reached a hand out towards him. Sammy tilted his head slightly to one side. “…Soon, my little sheep. You’ll return to the flock. You understand?” He slowly nodded, and the prophet hummed, a happy noise. “Very good.” The ink man turned and started to walk away. Henry tried to call out for him to wait, but once more words escaped him… and so did Sammy. The room erupted in ink. He started to swing, letting his body do the talking. -- Henry rubbed at his eyes. The lines on his cells all seemed to blur together, and no amount of coffee seemed to help. Really, it just made it worse, combining exhaustion with caffeine jitters. He gave up. He set the pencil aside, gripping the sides of his head instead with a groan. Tap. He froze. Joey? No, the man didn’t dare be that subtle. Sneaking a glance revealed a far more welcome face. A small man with prematurely gray hair, pale blue eyes, and a gentle smile stood there, offering a little wave. Johnny, the resident organist. He lowered his hands. “Do you need something, Johnny?” The man shook his head. Johnny didn’t talk much. In fact, Henry wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him speak. He spent most of his time cooped up in the organ room, making music whenever Sammy demanded and little else, communicating in a rough pantomime or through written notes if he had them on him. Today, he chose the former, making a ‘come here’ gesture to the animator. Henry sighed a bit, but stood to follow nonetheless. He wasn’t getting anything done where he was sitting. Johnny gently guided him down to the organ room—Henry always found the place claustrophobic, but for whatever reason the small man seemed right at home here. He sat down at the bench, then turned and started to pantomime at Henry. “You… play. I listen…” Henry mouthed, watching his hands. “You want me to listen to your new composition?” Johnny nodded, smiling. “Wouldn’t Sammy be a better critic?” The organist shook his head, gently patting the place beside him on the bench. “I really should be working, Johnny…” Another expectant pat. Did he really want to fight this? No, he decided. The animator smiled a bit as he joined him. The room filled with the rich tones of the organ, up and down in its own melodic chorus. As he sat there, eyes closed in appreciative rapture, the room felt so much larger than the confines of its walls. “Alice Angel piece?” he asked. Johnny just smiled. He did too, listening in contented silence to the cheerful, yet reverent melody on their tiny pew. -- He returned to himself just before passing the room in question. While his feet kept moving, he grabbed the doorframe and stopped himself, pulling back to step inside. There stood the organ. Johnny’s organ. “At least you still seem normal,” he murmured, small smile back on his face. He approached the instrument, running a hand across the bench, feeling the well-worn wood grain with silent joy. Slowly, he brought it to the keys. It should still play… He pressed down. A jumble of discordant notes rattled out of the instrument. His heart dropped. Before he could wonder why, a new sound burst forth: something agonized. Something hurt. Surprise shifted to horror as his blood ran cold. “Johnny…?” Without thinking, he pressed again. Who else would it be? This was his room, his instrument! He pressed again, more forcefully. “Johnny! Can you hear me?!” Nothing. 2 more presses, 2 more demands, and 5 total refusals to do more than groan. Johnny was in that instrument somehow. He had to be, and Henry needed to free him. The axe wouldn’t cut it, but it would cut him if he tried. He hurried out to find something else. He heard footsteps behind him, he swore he did. Knowing that didn’t help him move, and he locked up in panic, unable to turn around and stop the blow to the back of his head. The last thing he heard as the world went dark was soft laughter, chilling and cold.

[thelastloop]

And my iteration of fluffy tired man Henry. Every day is a marathon at JDS, but someone’s gotta make the magic happen!

[thelastloop]

Meet Joey Drew! I’m certain to regret giving him a full suit. Small man, 5’4”, with dreams far bigger than one man alone can accomplish. But that’s why he’s got all the lovely folks at JDS, doesn’t he?

[thelastloop]

Just random songs that I connect to BATIM or characters even if I think I'm just looking too hard Choke by idk how they found me Bury a friend by Billie Spill your Guts Breathe (vocaloid) I hope you find inspiration and/or enjoy them ♥️

I love Choke, that’s actually already on my playlist! I jump back and forth a bit one which character I think it fits best but I seriously adore it.

I agree on the Billie Eilish song! There’s a couple lines there that I love and that will totally go on the playlist, thank you!

For Spill Your Guts, turns out there’s a couple people with songs by that title, but I assumed Creature Feature because it fits so well just on an overall level.

I love vocaloid, but there’s actually 4 different songs I know of with the title Breathe, haha. The Gakupo one’s my favorite, but there’s a couple that I could totally see. I’ll have to give them all a hard listen. <3

Thank you so much, seriously! Awesome suggestions!