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#bendy and the ink machine
tyradrawz · 31 minutes ago
Was bored
Yeah, I don't know what to say
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inkskxtch · an hour ago
Another BATIM artist I follow posted some height refs for their designs earlier, so I wanted to do the same!! I’ve been meaning to put them all down in some kind of chart for a while now :P
I’m happy with them at the moment, but I might decide to change them later on so thankfully the chart is easy to alter lol
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Tallest to shortest!
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trashboatprince · an hour ago
Putting this out there, this is the LAST time I am writing the ‘I trusted you’ prompt for batim. I’ve written this one at least four times already lol 
The note was ink stained, crinkled, yet it was shockingly still intact.
It was the note that Henry had been given from his ‘old pal’, Joey Drew. He looked at the words he was so familiar with at this point that they were practically inked into his brain forever. 
“I can’t believe you survive with me...” He hissed under his breath, not wanting to catch Tom’s attention from beyond the front wall of his makeshift cell.
He crushed the little sheet of paper in his hands, balling it up, before throwing it across the room. It landed with barely a sound onto the floor, sitting there now, as if it taunted him. It was practically screaming at him that it was part of the reason he came here, that it was what started all of this, lead him to that damn apartment.
Henry glared hard at it from where he sat across the room on his cot, hands clutching at his sides.
That stupid note, telling him exactly what Joey tells him every single time in the kitchen, when he is forced against his will to enter into The Studio, that Joey has something to show him.
“I trusted you...” He said, barely above a whisper. “I trusted you back in the day, and I was stupid to trust you now.”
He laid down, facing the wall where golden messages waited for him to rediscover them. After this loop, that letter will be back in his pocket, like he hadn’t tried to destroy it again and again, taunting him with a ghost of Joey’s words. 
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zanzaflux · 2 hours ago
If joey somehow came back, will Ben or Bendy beat him up? Totally asking for a friend here.
If Joey managed to crawl out of the pit he fell in, it would probably scare the begeezus out of Ben and Bendy. After they get over their shock, they'll beat him up and send him back to where he came from.
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zanzaflux · 2 hours ago
Does Ben have nightmares of being in the studio, of the past, or with Joey?
Yes, Ben often has nightmares about Joey Drew and the studio. He very rarely yells out but if anyone was downstairs, they would notice how cold the hall leading to his room feels. They would also see his ink crawling across the walls.
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ipodsnatcher08 · 2 hours ago
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Finished (and it’s terrible)! This character doesn’t belong to me I got permission from the original creator of this character who is @askcharlottewalters so go check them out. I’m lazy with backgrounds today
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mwolf0epsilon · 3 hours ago
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Behind every Cycle Loops there’s always work to be done...And while a part of Joey knows he’s never going to win against Henry, the other is far too hopeful that things will go his way. No matter the cost.
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jekyll-doodles · 4 hours ago
So what happened to Sam in the Gem au? I know Egg “fixed” him but like what HAPPENED and how did it mentally/physically/emotionally affect poor Sam?
Joey tried. to make. him into. a diamond. 
And it did not go well. And left him in a endless perfection cycle, trying to reach unattainable standards while also making things worse for himself. and others.
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insane-control-room · 4 hours ago
When ray was gone, and if he was single, would Johan be interested in starting a relationship with Sammy? He seems to rely on the composer a lot
(chucks a whole butt fic at you) Enjoy! written with help and input from @randomwriteronline​ <3 im lov u
ao3 link:
Sammy is going to be Joey's, or rather the Ink Demon's, Prophet. He decides to start getting into character through method acting, but a bit too early, and a lot too zealous.
Joey was not exactly a stable person. That role fell to Henry. They were the rock and the river, and when the rock decided to sprout legs and walk away, the river was forced to keep rushing onwards, still searching and babbling for its rock, in that silent way that streams whisper. It was almost musical in a melancholic way, and to Sammy, that music was solemn… yet beautiful. 
He listened quietly to the river's lonely longing lament, watery with tearstained resilience. He indulged in its melancholy silently, wallowing in doubt, wading in that cool and efficient, winding river - should he have tried to interrupt that wonderfully woeful solo concert? Should he have allowed him to wail his anguish as long as he needed to? The man was insane, he argued with himself, and there was beauty in madness, but he needed to keep himself away to avoid getting swept into the tide. 
He talked about it with Wally and Thomas, who both told him that if he wanted to, he should at least try. Shit had already hit the fan, and with a reset on the horizon, he could do what he wanted with little to no consequence. After all, he was the Prophet, and Joey was the Demon, and his reverence should have a real source. 
So, he agreed with them, and in that lucid dreamscape of the Bridge, he approached the source of the ink flowing through the world. Joey was working on the machine, agitated as he programmed the physics of the liquid, making sure that everything was functioning as it should. 
“Joey,” he greeted, shocking the man, making him spin around, wielding a wrench as a weapon in his panic. Sammy waved at him.
“Ah, it’s you,” Joey exhaled in relief. “How can I b-be of assistance?”
“I was about to ask you that,” Sammy smoothly replied. Joey stared at him, and then shook his head. “What?”
“I don’t need any help,” Joey told him, and then returned to his work. Sammy blinked, and left. He was not going to press the man, not in that way at least.
He knocked on the door to his office. 
“Come in,” was the answer, it always was. Sammy came in, with a coffee in hand. 
“I got you a drink, Mr. Drew,” he offered with a smile. Johan’s mouth opened, about to protest. “I know you don’t like coffee, but this one is dairy free, and it’s my treat.”
“I see…” Johan accepted the drink. Sammy watched as he took a sip, gauging his reaction, reading deeply into each crease of his skin. “Thank you.”
Sammy smiled.
His pen scribbled madly on the paper. Damn Drew and his idea that even though the world was on the verge of ending, they still had deadlines to meet and animations to make. And with those animations, came the music that had to go along with them. 
What would have all this work been for once there was no more life to witness it?
Such was the question he posed when he came into the man’s office. Sammy smirked, feeling that he had the upper hand over the visual artist. He reasoned that Joey relied on him, but that feeling shifted a second later. Johan looked up at him above pink lenses, and then asked back, “You don’t really think life will continue on f-forever? You just see the ending as imminent-- and so you give up. But we should not use the end of the world as an excuse to do nothing, as then no one should do anything at all and mull endlessly in their own thoughts.”
“You think that the world will end beyond this?” Sammy inquired with widening eyes. Joey shrugged. Sammy’s eyes narrowed back to slits. “Mr. Drew, that sounds insane.”
Joey simply tilted his head. Sammy understood what he meant, and his own lips twitched. 
Insanity was the man’s environment. 
Sammy was starting to feel the bliss of madness, and something told him he would not be able to get enough of it. 
He helped Joey often with his experiments and rigging the bridge on the furthest levels, watching his master with admiration for his craft. Sammy may not have been a rock in the river, but he was a reed by the bank, drinking in all it had to offer to him. 
Joey was hunched over his work, and Sammy entered the room. 
“Johan,” he greeted, and the man whistled in acknowledgement. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, not really,” Joey told him, sparing him a glance and a tired smile. Sammy set down a honey sweetened tea, having slowly worked his way to figuring out which type of drink he enjoyed without asking a single question, simply making and bringing new ones constantly with input from Wally and Thomas until he struck gold. “Thank you. Also, I, er,” he smiled sheepishly, and Sammy smiled in return, following the shepherd, “Do need a touch of help. I can’t pull the gauges right, cause, you know ...”
He trailed off, and Sammy did not have to look down to know why. He smiled wider, and adjusted the valves for him. 
“Anything else?”
“Nothing, thank you,” Joey’s smile was radiant, enlightening. He gave a little laugh. “Thanks for being my right hand.”
Sammy took said hand, missing thumb and all, and beamed at his redeemer. 
“With pleasure.”
His arms were wrapped around Joey as he panted, sweat dripping down the taller man’s brow. Sammy could feel his tremors through muscle, holding him tight and whispering encouragement. Another shudder wracked through the thin animator, a groan escaping him. Sammy petted a hand through his sui generis hair, and eased him down onto the bathroom tile. Johan gave another tremble, limbs weak from the strain, and grimaced and cried at the taste of iron and bitter poison filling his mouth. 
Sammy soothed him as he wiped away the blood and ink that was on Joey’s lips and hands. The bridge was nearly complete, and Sammy was in awe at the strength of the man; ill and weak of body, but mind impenetrable, method in madness. 
“You’re alright,” he whispered to him, a wet, cool rag cleaning away sweat and tears. Joey mumbled that he was fine, that he needed no help, but Sammy remained by his side. The musician's arm was clasped around his bony shoulders, a hand rubbing his back. His eyes roamed over Joey’s face, and he could see the traces and toll of being the ink demon on him. He tilted his head upwards with his palm. “You’re more than alright. You’re… my lord.”
Joey’s brow creased as he was about to protest, yet Sammy merely closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Joey’s, whose mouth opened in shock. Sammy kissed him further, the prophet in devotion to his lord, the familiar taste of ink intoxicating. Hands were on his chest, but he realized too late that it was not to pull him close, but to push.
“Sammy, what the everfrozen hell!” Joey barked, eyes wide, yet brow drawn. “What is wrong with you!? I just threw up blood and ink and you- you!”
His sputtering was cut off by Sammy reapproaching at the speed of a hawk on a dive, broken by a sharp gasp. Sammy’s pupils were dilated in zealous fervor, and Joey wracked his mind in an attempt to figure out how this started. 
“I,” he breathed, his mouth a jagged grin, “Am your prophet. Your right hand.”
“You are behaving with the piety of an insane cultist priest,” Johan said, bewildered worry in his tone. “Like a m-madman!”
“As if you are not the epitome of insanity yourself,” he retorted, to which Joey had no response. “You’ve set me free with it.”
“I’ve done nothing,” Johan told him as he pushed weakly against Sammy, hands on his shoulders and keeping him pressed to the sink. A thousand scenarios flashed through his head, someone coming into the bathroom with them in this compromising position, Sammy continuing this lunacy and Joey being forced to kick him from the project. “Sammy, this needs to stop-”
The mad prophet heard nothing, and had come close once more to kiss his lord. Joey did not have the strength to push him away again, and Sammy did not even notice, so lost in his method delusion. There was ink on his tongue, the demon’s ichor, and it was familiar-- and that gave him pause. 
Why on earth had he been drinking ink?
He pulled away sharply, a slew of apologies flying from his mouth. Joey waved them off, merely relieved that Sammy seemed to be coming back to himself. 
“I guess that I got too caught up in the role,” Sammy muttered, mortified.
Joey only huffed an incredulous laugh, pulling himself off the floor and extending his hand for Sammy to take. 
He did, grateful for the opportunity offered to him.
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trashboatprince · 5 hours ago
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I am just obsessed with the fact that @inkspottie and I decided that my Henry, Hugo, in the Space Pirate au has low personal gravity and can float for a few moments when he jumps when he isn’t wearing weighted clothing.
I love sci-fi stuff, I can get away with so much haha. 
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madamealexandriadoll · 6 hours ago
Um...I'm trying to move away from a very mentally unstable mother and also take my sister with me. Please signal boost as much as you can and if you can spare even like...a dollar USD or two...I really need this.
Edit: um thank you, I can see that 3 people have interacted with this post already. It means a lot to me even if you can't donate.
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whatyouwantedmetosee · 6 hours ago
Greetings I beg for Jack x Sammy headcannons I'm in love with them, ,,, , ,
Anyway here’s a few cute ones that come to mind. Some of these are inspired by other people’s headcanons, some of these are my own AU canon, some are just good concepts.
They’ve been working together for so long that they’re already basically married. By this point, their working schedule and methods are balanced together enough that removing one from the equation would throw them both entirely off. They are a set, do not separate!!!
Jack is one of the few people that Sammy is comfortable around, because Jack gets him in a way that other people don’t. (Jack’s been around him long enough to have picked up on how he does things and his habits, and how to read his body language.)
Jack and Sammy are both introverts (though Jack is a very social one) - but spending time around each other doesn’t lower that social energy in the same way that strangers or coworkers does. When they’re able, they’ll go sneak off somewhere together to just sit in silence, or maybe play a bit of music together, while they recover their energy.
Speaking of music - Let! The boys! Play duets! Sammy with his banjo and Jack with his fiddle is good content. Sometimes they’ll just improv something together - Jack will come up with silly lyrics on the fly to go along with it.
Jack likes to make puns. Sammy is the type of person who acts like he hates puns. This just encourages Jack. (He knows Sam doesn’t mind them really. Plus, the complaining about it is half of the fun!)
Sammy smokes. Jack doesn’t, but because he’s spent so long around Sammy, he finds the smell of cigarettes familiar and comforting in its own way. (Bonus: let Jack steal a jacket of Sammy’s, or let Sammy borrow Jack’s sweater, for that Boyfriend Smell.)
When the studio hits crunch mode, there’s not much time to do anything but work. But then, once there’s finally some free time afterwards, Sammy and Jack... can have little an exhausted cuddle, as a treat.......
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askcharlottewalters · 6 hours ago
so i'm drawing a picture of charlotte cradling her and henry's oldest son philip stein as a baby
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