✔️Ink Bendy x Reader - Alone Within the Ink #Wattys2019

Moving Pictures

6/28/19, Edited 7/30/19

"Alright Joey.... I'm here.... Let's try and find what you wanted me to see...."

He walked through the studio, boots thumping and floorboards creaking with every step he took.

"Hey, here's my old desk.... I wasted so much time in this chair...."

He continued to venture deeper into the heart of the studio's entry, pursuing the long halls that wound up in an endless maze.

"Let's see what you're hiding down there, old friend...."

He listened as the gears churned and the chains clanked, and watched as a giant machine arose from the abysmal darkness.

"How do I get this to work....?"

He backtracked through the maze of corridors, all looking almost exactly the same, as he gathered a variety of peculiar items for the ritual pedestals.

"Now I just need to get the ink flowing somehow.... Should be a switch around here somewhere...."

He went back once more into a certain room and went to the corner, pulling the lever and releasing the flow of ink that began to course throughout the building, pumping everything to life.

That was all it took for the lives lost within the ink to slowly awaken, slowly regain consciousness. You couldn't see them, their forms didn't exist. Their souls were there, their bodies were not. They were one with the ink, held firmly in its tight, unforgiving grip. But all they needed was an escape. A pathway to freedom. A light to follow.

And one soul followed that light. One soul found its escape. The only pathway it needed was the final switch of a second lever, one that served as the main power to the Ink Machine.

Forced out of the churning, functioning machine, a figure splatted onto the ground amongst the growing puddle of ink. It slowly rose, slowly forced itself free from the long grip placed upon it many months ago. And soon it stood tall, back in its mangled glory.

A mangled, disfigured shape was to be seen, holding a well defined ribcage and a stomach so skinny it was almost nonexistent. Its slim middle curved out into sharp, jagged hips of uneven proportions that partially supported its long, asymmetrical legs with uneven footing. An unnaturally curved spine jutted out of the back, even more defined than the ribcage. Ink covered most of its head, but the elongated horns and jittery, eternal smile with quite the psychotic twist were easy to be seen.

The creature was frozen in thought. Images of the past raced through his head, slowly recollecting every little detail that happened before the ink overtook him. He heard all of the voices, saw all the faces, saw the varying degrees fear in different people's eyes.

Looking at his uneven hands, one gloved and one humanlike, he then turned to the giant machine that hovered behind him. He saw the spinning cogwheels, he heard the clanks of metal, he heard the chugging of its insides, he heard the splashing of ink as it crashed around inside the machine like the waves of an ocean.

The machine was on. The machine was on a higher level.

Somebody had activated the machine.

The creature could now hear everything. Every single sound, from the sound of footsteps against the creaky floor to the breath of someone who sounded nervous and slightly out of breath.

It had been so long. Could it be? After all this time, although he really had no idea how long it had been, was it possible that she was alive? Was that her, walking through the studio? Did she turn on the machine? Was she looking....for him?

The ink creature became hopeful at this thought; one might say he was simply excited to see her again. He limped away from the machine, giddily heading towards the doorway that was blocked by wooden planks. He tried to move them but his actions proved futile, so he let them be as there was room for his head and an arm to stick out anyway.

He waited, listening as the footsteps slowly came closer and closer. They got louder. And the creature knew the person was just beyond the planks. Excitement took control as he quickly poked his head out the gap, reaching a hand out to the person....

But the person he saw wasn't who he thought it was going to be. He saw an older man, one that bore a familiar everything. The eyes, the face, the body, the creature knew this person. Regardless, the man apparently didn't know him as the quick swipe of his harmless hand when he reached out scared the living daylights out of the man, causing him to roughly recoil fall backwards onto the floorboards.

Just the same, his reaction scared the ink demon in turn and caused him to quickly jump away from the doorframe and fall backwards over the railing that overlooked the Ink Machine. He landed on his back and simply stayed there on the floor, looking up at the ceiling.

That wasn't her, that wasn't his darling. That was a Creator! The ink demon didn't know how to feel. Hopeless that she was still missing? Enraged that a Creator actually had the gall to return to the studio he so carelessly abandoned?

He wanted to feel hopeless, but he just couldn't. But that didn't mean he was enraged, either. Instead, he saw this as both a potential and a threat. After all, there could only be two reasons that a Creator, that specific Creator, returned.

On one hand, it was possible he knew that the darling went missing and was sent to retrieve her, sent to take her away from the ink demon forever. A threat.

On the other hand, the ink demon held some hope that the man could help him find his darling, could possibly find a way to bring her back to him. A potential.

The ink demon would have to act carefully, for his actions would play just as large a role. If he helped the man enough, it's possible he would find the darling first and take her away. But if he stayed back and found ways to approach him, they might be able to reconcile.

"(Y/N)...." His inky voice purred, not even sure whether it was out loud or only in his head.. "I'll find you...."

The ink demon got back to his feet and stood there for a second, taking in the severity and importance of the sequence of events at hand as he clenched his fists with determination. He was going to find his darling. That Creator was going to help whether he truly agreed or not. He would not leave the studio with her.

The ink demon could feel his heart rate slowly increasing as he looked up at the boarded doorway. His breaths began to grow quicker and louder, following his heartbeat in sync. And soon, the ink demon was ready to begin his mission as he opened an ink portal. As he exited the room, the last thing to be heard was his raspy breath, one that sounded as if he were saying someone's name.

Hen.....rrryyyyyyyyyy.....