Title: The Ballad of Show-Business
Character(s)/Pairing: Bendy and Betty Boop; Boris and Alice Angel (secondary)
Rating: T+ (may become M later on)
Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood/gore, and mature sexual situations are apparent in this fanfiction. Viewer discretion is advised (A/N: Lol, I've always wanted to say that!).
Summary: She loved the stage. Not for fame, fortune or glory; but for the sheer enjoyment of the audience with her shows. She danced and sang to bring happiness to those wherever she performed. A pure soul of naïvety. He loved the stage. The spoils of fame and fortune did appeal to him, he was a demon after all, but his main reason was so that people could know his name. But most importantly… it was where she was.
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, own(ed) the Bendy and the Ink Machine series/franchise, or Betty Boop. They respectfully belong to "the Meatly", and "Max Fleischer Studios" in that order.
…
Act One: Storyboard
"I looked at you, and suddenly…"
He heard a voice, a sweet, melodious voice. One with feminine charm and naïvety that instantly grabbed his attention.
"Something in your eyes, I see…"
He looked every which way, trying to find this mystic beauty, this salacious siren of music. But he couldn't for his vision was blackened, the dark void of nothingness greeted his eyes and he desperately grasped at his face; only to discover that a mysterious veil covered him, and couldn't be removed no matter how hard he pulled at it.
"Soon begins, bewitching me…"
He huffed in frustration, his veil billowing out minutely, soon giving up his pursuit of removing the—in his opinion—damnable item. He settled for his other senses to guide him, moving him towards the delicious tremors of the voice as she sang her heart out with that beaconing song. His senses did not fail him and he found himself getting closer as the voice began to get louder in volume.
"It's that old devil moon, that you stole from the sky… It's that old devil moon, in your eyes…!"
Her singing crescendo-ed as she reached the final impasse of softness in the song, before she picked up with a snazziness and flair that he knew well. Ghostly instruments serenaded with her, belting out alluring beats of grandeur in jazz, illuminating her voice even more amongst the ethereal band.
"You and your glance, makes this romance, too hot to handle…"
He was on a mission now, and he couldn't afford to fail. He must know who this woman was. He needed to know. He didn't know why it was so important to him—he didn't even know who this person was—to find out the identity of this mysterious singer. But he ached with a need that was so strong, so foreign, that it possessed him like a vengeful spirit.
He was getting ever closer now, and despite the blackness of his veil, he could see a shape in the distance. Dressed in all white he could tell.
He moved faster.
"Stars in the night, blazing their light, can't hold a candle…!"
He was so close, so close to her now. He could see that she was a fairly tall woman, amongst cartoons if she was one, as she languidly laid on a platform with one arm supporting her weight. She wore a simple white nightgown, with frilled short-sleeves, whose length stopped mid-thigh. Her smooth legs would rub against each other in a lazy fashion as if she was sluggish with sleep. Her feet, wonderfully slender tipped with cute-buttoned toes, drew circles amongst the platform and would sometimes tap in time with the beats of the band as they played.
"To your razzle-dazzle…! You've got me flyin' high and wide… On a magic carpet ride, full of butterflies inside…!"
The beats of the drums crooned a cool beat as the trumpets flared with triumph in time with her singing. The cellos and violins said their hellos to each other in a soft string of organized noise, the saxophones flirted sexily with the timid clarinets, and the oboe's musical notes cantered dutifully with the rest of the bands'.
He saw her dark hair, glowing even in his blackened vision, shining like the illuminated darkness of space as glittering somethings resided in her mused hair. He likened to think that she had woken up from bed before she was rudely thrusted into this strange place. But something told him that her hair always looked like that. He didn't know how he came to that conclusion, he just… did.
"Wanna cry, wanna croon, wanna laugh like a loon… it's that old devil moon, in your eyes…"
She then turned towards him. He was so surprised that he actually jumped back in shock. He didn't expect her to notice him, he assumed that he was like the rest of this wayward world to her, nonexistent. But here she was, staring right at him as if she knew he was there the whole time he was looking at her. Well… if she could see him without that white veil of hers covering her face. He would've laughed at the irony of their situation if he wasn't so frustrated. He really wanted to see her face, wanted to stare right into those eyes of her, wanted to know her.
He bet her eyes were pretty. Like shimmering black obsidian—as he took in her cartoonish features—putting gems, rubies, and even diamonds to shame.
"Just when I think I'm, free as I dove… Old devil moon, deep in your eyes, blinds me with love…"
She reached out a slim hand to him, inviting him to take it. He hesitated before he complied to her wishes. He slowly brought her delicate hand to his veiled face, hovered it in front of where his mouth would be, before he gently kissed it as if she was a porcelain doll. It was as if one touch would break her, and he wanted to be as delicate as he could.
Despite knowing the fact that he could destroy her so easily, with what he was.
He raised a nonexistent brow as he looked at her feet. He noticed that despite how slender they looked, they were calloused very heavily. He chuckled. So, she was a dancer, was she? He was pleased to know that they shared something in common.
"I wanna cry, wanna croon, wanna laugh like a loon…! It's that old devil moon, in your eyes…"
"Wh-Whup!" He grunted as he was suddenly hoisted in the air, completely caught off guard. He tensed before he realized that he was within her arms, hugged tightly as she swayed to the beat of the ghostly band. She was quite the forward woman, he noted, but he didn't particularly mind. He respected, what he assumed was, her zealous nature.
"And just when I think I'm, I'm free as a dove… Old devil moon, deep in your eyes blinds me with love…"
They swayed and spun, holding to each other like lovers would as they danced. How scandalous they were for doing so. But they didn't care. They enjoyed the preening of the instruments—simmering to a diminuendo as the song began to end—they enjoyed the soothing movements of their slow-dancing, and they enjoyed the warmth that the other seemed to exude.
"…It blinds me with love…"
The bands cajoling seemed to grow softer and softer, the mysterious woman's voice fainter and fainter, and he realized that he couldn't see her visage that well since she was getting blurrier. He jolted as it came crashing onto him like a stray lightning bolt.
He was waking up.
He growled in irritation, his hold on the woman tightening as he refused to let go. He didn't want to wake up. At least, not until he knew her name first. He struggled to move his mouth, it felt as if cotton was stuffed in there, as he tried to ask who she was before he returned back to the mortal coil.
Her silhouette dimmed, but he felt her put a slim finger to his mouth. It was as if she was saying: "soon".
He sighed as he relented. Finally letting himself fall into the mundane musings of his consciousness.
"Gah! Urk!" Loud noises of tumbling echoed throughout the room, miscellaneous items crashing onto the floors below. A body that was draped by blankets groaned as they were rudely awoken from their slumber, swearing colorful words that only they could hear. They viciously fought against the blankets that were unintentionally foisted onto them, before they finally escaped gasping fresh gulps of air.
"Fucking great way to start off this crumby mornin'—Ah!" They mumbled before recoiling back in pain as they lightly touched their smarting forehead; their voice deep in baritone signaling that they were male.
He grumbled as he shook off the remains of the blanket before sluggishly dragging himself to the restroom. He yawned widely, showing off nicely elongated canines, as he finally made it to the bathroom and clambered up the steps that were positioned in front of the sink. He blinked as he lazily regarded himself in the mirror. Two pointy horns ever-erect atop his head, signature pie-cut eyes glaring balefully back at him, and a rictus grin that would normally be stretched upon his face was now replaced with an unamused frown.
"Bendy!" A gruff voice bellowed outside of the room, harsh banging on wood accompanying the miffed individual. "Have you been oversleeping again?! We have rehearsal in fifteen, and if you aren't out by then, I'm dragging you out!" They threatened before the sounds of their stomping feet disappearing the further they went.
Bendy, or Bendy the Dancing Demon as he was known, was the main protagonist and beloved cartoon of Joey Drew Studios and Sillyvision. He performed many skits, plays, and films while entertaining millions of families with his hilarity.
But he could never escape being the pack mule to one Sammy Lawrence, the Music Director of the studio.
Bendy scowled at the door, where the man once was, before he stuck out his forked tongue childishly. "Keh! What does that ol' stick-in-da mud know, hah? A few minutes won't kill him! And doesn't he know that ya can't rush perfection?" [1] His infamous grin came back as he regarded himself smoothly in the mirror, tying his white bowtie like a true gentleman (at least in his view). He, regardless, went through his morning rituals in a hurried fashion and quickly made his way towards the Music Department.
Down the long winding hallways, he went, jumping over stairs in one-fell-swoop, and sharply turning corners as he made his way towards his destination. He spooked some of the personnel laughing as he did so—he was a demon after all—but it was all in good fun. He even frightened Wally, the good janitor to the establishment, who light-heartedly threatened him with: "Do that to me again, and I'm outta' here!" But knowing him, he wouldn't make good on it.
Wally was a fairly young man, somewhere in his twenties—people would guess, whom had short, floofy, dark-brown hair. He wore a dark-grey Newsboy Cap with the signature dark-green jumpsuit that all janitors wore, and dark-brown lace-up leather boots with leather soles (A/N: Look up "Madison Cap Toe Boot – Black" to get a generally idea of the style of boots that he's wearing from the 1920s). During his free-time, he would wear a button-up long-sleeved shirt—that he would roll-up most of the time—with grey trousers and black suspenders.
Finally, after many hallways, stairs, and frights the small-statured cartoon made it to the Music Department. And when he got there, he wasn't surprised to see Sammy tearing a new one into one of the interns that worked under him. The poor intern was pale and quailed in fright as the looming stature of the music director stood intimidatingly over them.
Yeesh! Sammy's in a really foul mood today… He's usually grumpy, but something musta' really screwed his ass for him to be this mad… Bendy thought as he stared at the messy scene. He noticed that the other humans didn't try to help out the intern as they too were terrified of the professional songwriter. How pitiful.
"Whelp! Looks like it's up tah me to save da day once again." He muttered under his breath. He inhaled deeply, straightening out his bowtie, before smiling with his grin as he approached the raving mad man and the little sheep of an intern. "Hey-hey now Sammy! Don'tcha think you're being a little hard on the poor sap? From what it sounds like, the man made a mistake, and we all make mistakes. Even me! So can'tcha let this little mishap slide ol' pal?" The cartoon reasoned as he forced himself between the two "quarreling" humans, despite him maybe being a good two-feet smaller than them (he was 4"5 and he is quite proud of it, thank you).
The man focused his sharp brown eyes on the cartoon. Sammy was a fairly tall and handsome man standing in at a cool 5"10 with milky, chocolate brown eyes that would always be weighed down by heavy darkened circles; scruffy dirty blonde hair, and stubble was dotting along his jaw. He wore a light blue, button-up shirt, dark-brown trousers that were adorned with suspenders that hung from his shoulders, and leather flats that were designed in a mix of white and black (A/N: Think of tap-dancing shoes).
He responded to Bendy with a sneer. "Well, if it isn't the glorified mascot himself. I see you're late once again, what a terrible habit you have Bendy."
Bendy's smile strained as his pie-cut eyes narrowed at the man. Throwing barbs, was he? Well, two could play at that game. "It's called being fashionably late, Sam. Gotta look my best for da cameras, which means I gotta take care of lil' ol' me. Not dat you would know anything about caring for oneself, do ya pal?" The cartoon's voice deepened at the end of the sentence, growling out that last word like it was a vile, disgusting thing. While he tolerated Sammy—he wouldn't say that he cared for him—it was only so much that he would excuse his grumpy behavior. He'd usually find it funny at times but certain instances such as these, Bendy had no patience for.
Especially since dat weird dream I had… The ink demon thought to himself, before focusing at the fuming male. He would dwell on those thoughts later, now it was time to put a certain Music Director in his place.
And oh, how long he has waited for this.
Sammy's jaw tightened at the cartoon's insult to his appearance. He knew that he didn't particularly focus much on his looks when it came to his workplace, since he was so busy all the time. Making sure that the instruments were in workable and pristine conditions, creating new song pieces for "The Little Devil Bastard", instructing the toons on their choreography and singing, and now he was apparently teaching these children—he wouldn't call them interns—how to do their jobs when they should've already known what to do, four months ago when they were hired!
He was a busy man. A very busy man. With stress levels comparable to that of a bull thrown in an arena with a Matador. Being busy and stressed mixed well together like gasoline and oil. And this overgrown cat didn't need to make him ignite the fire. But he was.
"Listen here, you overgrown imp," The musician hissed. Said "imp" responded with a growl, ink beginning to droop on the left side of his face, signaling his growing anger. Despite the clear danger, Sammy paid no mind. "I've had it up to here with your distasteful shenanigans and horrid jokes. You're crude, childish, and always fail to make me laugh. I don't see how you're so popular with the masses even though there are clearly better talents elsewhere."
Bendy's growl deepened with his ire, ink rising from his body like a cat's fur raising when it's ready to attack. The people in the background hurried away from the potential bloodshed, not wanting to be caught in the middle of it. However, to their and Sammy's surprise, Bendy began to snicker. Then chuckle. Before it became a full-on raucous laugh that caused everyone in the room to shiver. That laugh was… off.
The ink demon's ink began to slowing recede back into his body as he regained control over his emotions. However, the left side of his face was still drooped over and showed no signs of clearing anytime soon. He immediately stopped laughing, and it was so fast that it was like a flip of a switch. His rictus grin was still in place and still strained but it somehow looked… eerie and darker than it's ever been before. For the interns, they have never seen this side of Bendy so it was a little more than haring for them to experience a seemingly cute little devil going full-on ballistic in a matter of minutes. Seconds even. But for hardened staff such as Sammy, they knew that when the demon got like this…
He was getting closer to the deep end.
A part of Sammy was instantly regretful and feared what the demonic cartoon would do to him. He knew that Bendy wasn't the type to repent after breaking bones, in fact, he rather enjoyed it and would probably enjoy his own bones being broken—if he had any—if it meant the thrill of battle. Sammy again questioned why such a cartoon like him was created in the first place. He was meant for children, yet he acted so… un-childlike. However, it did help that the devil would put on a "friendly and timid" persona for the cameras for them to work with, but it was so daunting how he could change his personality like that of a drop of a metaphorical hat.
His other part, the more curious and adventurous side, wondered about Bendy's attitude. He and the Devil Darlin' traded harsh barbs on the regular, so much so that it has been ingrained into their daily rituals. The musician admitted that he was a little sour today and was quite done with everything being that it was early morning. It was a result of teaching these-these sheep how to do their jobs, and Joey wasn't helping with his idealistic ass. "I need you to teach them how to do this!" he says, "it's for the good of the company" he says. Sammy ever wonders if Joey was a naturally forgetful person since they already taught these interns their jobs four months ago. Maybe that, or the man has a screw loose…
But anyway, back to his analyses of Bendy. He noticed the demon was actually troubled by something, and it was all due to how fast his anger surfaced. Everyone at the studio knew that the mascot was a short-tempered fellow, both new and old employees. When Sammy asked Henry, the animator of the studio, why he created Bendy with such a foul temper, he responded with: "It… wasn't my intention to make him that way. He just… is." Which was odd since the animators usually have more control on the molding of their creations. Which lead to the question:
Why was Bendy so different?
He wasn't like Boris who was a natural goofy character with a temper of his own, but it rarely ever surfaced. Boris was a glutton at times, was pretty handy, and loved to play his clarinet with his sheep. Henry created him this way with no problems whatsoever. Alice Angel, the little woman, was an ambitious thing with a melodious voice due to her angelic background. She believed in all-righteousness and in all things good, even though she was "Fallen". She had a small mischievous nature, often pulling pranks on both Bendy and Boris—mostly Bendy—and would sometimes get angry when her plans failed or were thwarted. Henry also created her with no problems.
But with Bendy… Sammy remembered something.
…
FLASHBACK: START
…
"What do you mean 'he just is', Henry? That doesn't seem like a plausible answer." Sammy huffed as he crossed his arms and stared down at his coworker balefully. Henry was a slender and rather tall fellow, standing in at a good 6"0. He had nicely groomed short brown hair that he kept parted and fringed on one-side, and a clean-cut goatee and side-burns. He wore a long-sleeved, burgundy shirt with a black-stringed tie, grey trousers, and polished black loafers. His hazel eyes stared transfixed at his papers through his rounded glasses. He and Sammy were currently in the cafeteria having lunch, but Henry was looking over his past and present designs for new ideas that would fit great with the new animation that will be green-lit in six-months' time.
"…Well that's the only answer that I can give you, Sam." Henry chuckled as he looked up from his papers before setting them down on a dry corner of the table. He thought it best he should eat, or Sammy would scold him again for not doing so. "Bendy's "birth" was just as he is. Vague."
Sammy continued to glare at the artist, whom paid no mind as he began to scarf his food down. Out of everyone in the studio, Henry was the only one who didn't quail under his harshness or was off-put by his demeanor. Well, he and Joey that is.
"Honestly, only you Henry. You would be the only one to create something "unnatural" in a "natural" process that is creating a toon." [2] Sammy groused as he politely ate some of his chicken broth. "You're always surrounded by trouble and weird-ass shit."
Henry laughed good-naturedly. "Amen to that my friend."
The two comrades ate in mostly comfortable silence, sometimes talking about mundane things or happenings in their lives before falling back into silence. It wasn't until they finished eating that Henry truly spoke. "I will say this about Bendy's creation Sammy…" Henry went quiet for a few seconds, discomforting the musician somewhat. "It was unnatural as you say it, but it was so much more… I think."
Sammy stared hard at his friend. He knew that he wasn't joking around from how Henry looked so serious about it. Henry was a normally quiet individual like he was, minding his own business and worked with all his being. And for that, Sammy respected him. And when they were together, both opened up to each other more than anyone else in the studio, and Henry was a lot more talkative when they did hang out. They even talked outside of the studio, often going to places to relax or play a good game of pool if they could afford it [3]. So, Sammy knew, by the deep lines creasing the animator's face, that he was severely troubled by something.
The director licked his lips before he began to slowly walk on eggshells. "…How was it 'much more'?"
Henry sighed deeply, like his entire being was deflating from soul-crushing tiredness. He closed his eyes as he reminisced the strange happenings before he spoke once again. "I think Bendy is… much more than a cartoon Sam, so much more," He held up a hand to stop his grumpy counterpart from talking, "and not in the biased way that an artist views their pieces, but in a mortal sense. A "life" sense."
"When I first began to create him, everything was going well and as it should be… but something happened during the process." Henry admitted as he began to gesture wildly with his hands. "I don't know what it was but all I know was that I wasn't alone when I was making him… There was a presence there Sam, it was there, I know it. It was so omnipotent and-and…powerful." The man shivered as he relived that time. Sammy had never seen him so jarred. "It was ingraining itself on Bendy and I tried to stop it, but well, it didn't end well for me."
Henry looked around frantically before he began to un-button his shirt. Once he was finished he opened it up and showed it to his friend, who's eyes widened. There, running across his chest, was a long-jagged scar. It looked deep, and although it was healed, Sammy could see from its texture that whatever did this to him wanted him to suffer long and slow.
The two men returned back to silence, only this time it was heavy and full of tension. Sammy didn't know what to say to Henry. He wanted to call him crazy, or maybe say that he's been reading to much fiction lately, but he couldn't find it in him to say so. If it wasn't from that scar then maybe, if it wasn't for the fact that Sammy was there at his hospital bed from his supposed "accident" the maybe. Too many facts lined up. Too many truths.
"…I bet Linda was on your ass when you came to huh?" Sammy joked dryly.
Henry blinked before he laughed, as tired as it sounded. "Oh, hell yeah. She was screaming and nagging my ears off when I first woke up, and I could make-out that the doctors were trying to calm her down and give me a bit of peace. No dice." The atmosphere lightened, if only by a tad, but that was fine with them.
But Sammy wanted to know that day.
What was that thing that latched itself onto Bendy?
…
FLASHBACK: END
…
Sammy still wondered about that day. Did that thing give Bendy his unpredictable personality? Was it the cause of his self-destructive anger? Or did it contribute to something else of his being? He had a feeling that he would never know and the only one that would have an inkling of knowing would be the creator himself, Henry.
"So, ya don't tink my jokes are funny, do ya?!" Bendy barked cracking his knuckles, bringing Sammy back from the recesses of his mind. "Then howsa 'bout I do impersonations? Hey guys!" He yelled out to the staff members all hiding in the department, causing them all to jump from his sudden call. "Look at me! I'm the Great Sammy Lawrence! I practice my dance-moves in the shower like a fucking dingus! Neh heh heh heh!" Bendy mocked as he danced goofily around the room, causing a few members to snicker or crack a smile.
Sammy redacted his statement. There was nothing terrifying about this little imp.
"You…! YOU!" Sammy growled before he began to chase the toon whom was taunting him in a comedic fashion, causing their audience to laugh boisterously.
Even though the morning started off sour, everyone knew that everything would be alright the rest of the day.
XXXX
Bendy heaved out a sigh as he slumped down on the sofa in the rest-room [4]. Because of that little mishap this morning, Sammy was especially brutal towards him with his routine. He found some way to nitpick his dancing, singing, or acting and would yell at him to redo it over again. But Bendy was a sore loser, so he had his own form of revenge. During breaks, Bendy would prank Sammy such as: putting tacks in his chair, ruin his drinks by putting ink in it, draw on his face when he fell asleep, the works. It was a chaotic day.
His best bud Boris would ask him out of concern and fright if he knew what he was doing. No doubt he heard of his and Sammy's little tiff. The ink demon would always assure the wolf that they were alright, just having an "altercation" he would say. Boris sighed, but took it with stride, but would always be there just in case things got to hot during rehearsal. He was such a great pal.
Angel on the other hand, wasn't so easy to fool. She would nag at him to stop his tomfoolery or she would flat out help Sammy in locating him or tattle on him. The prude. Guess it was just their demonic and angelic makeup that would always see each other as enemies in some way; despite her being "Fallen" and all.
"Ugh, what a day…" Said demon groused as he laid his head on the armrest, pulling his body up on the couch. His demonic tail swished lazily back and forth as it hung off the sofa. Yes, he had a tail, he just never showed it on set or around new people. A demon's tail was a demon's trademark, but it also was a symbol for two distinct things. One was for death. When a demon went out on a job, writing and offering contracts to greedy humans, they showed their tails because they knew that they would never see their victims again due to their unholy work. It was like a warning that they were in the midst of ushering souls to hell.
The other symbol: trust. It was crazy right? A demon, trusting anyone? But despite how crazy it sounded, it was true. Demons would show their tails, if they weren't working, to those that they trust the most. It was the ultimate form of gratitude and comradery, even though that word was used loosely in hell. However, Bendy would only show his tail around two individuals. One being Boris, his best buddy, and Henry, his creator. Even though he tolerated Alice a lot more than others, she was an angel unfortunately. He would never show his tail to an angel. It was against his demonic morals. Well, if demons had morals, that is to say.
Bendy closed his eyes as he thought back to his fight with Sammy. Even though he was angry at him, borderline destructive he admitted, he noticed that the man was in deep thought as he regarded him. He had this look that was familiar to him. It was like… like…
…Like that time way back… With Henry… The demon thought as he opened his eyes just a tad as he reminisced. He was there, when he and Henry were talking in the cafeteria. He was walking past them, trying to find Boris to go grab some grub, when he caught their conversation from near the entrance. From there, he listened in and was silent all throughout. He wasn't particularly disturbed or off-put by the unorthodox-ness of his creation, because he knew what had happened.
He just played dumb for everyone all these years.
"Sammy musta' been thinking about back then huh?" Bendy muttered to no-one. He stared at the ceiling in silence for a few more seconds before he grinned his wide smile. He put his gloved hands behind his horned head before he closed his eyes once more. "Hmm… Interestin'. Well, I'm sure they'll figure it out sooner or later. For now, I'mma just sit back and enjoy da show, Huehuehue!"
It was good to be king.
He looked around. He was back in this place again.
The darkness of the void greeted him yet again as he slowly sat up from the nonexistent ground. He wondered why he was laying down this time. Perhaps, it had something to do with him laying about in the real world? But if so, then wouldn't he have laid down before? He was confused and all of this thinking gave him a headache.
He felt for his face to rub his forehead. He sighed. He still had that damnable veil on his face.
He grumbled under his breath as he slowly stood up. He stretched his sore limbs before cracking his back, popping loose vertebrae back into his spine. Well, he didn't have one, but it was for comedic effect. Cartoon logic and all that.
"La-la-la… Hmmhmm…"
That voice. That beautifully, haunting voice. She was here again.
He instantly straightened up and whipped around as he tried to find where she was. He hadn't stopped thinking about her since he had woken up this morning. Her melodies bewitched him and made him crave more of her songs. More of her voice. More of her.
He blinked as he saw a structure in the distance. It looked to be a gazebo decorated in various flowers and vines. He wasted no time and quickly took off towards it. As he ran, he could here her melodious humming all around him, she didn't seem to be singing this day but it affected him all the same. It was as if her voice was personified as it circled around him, before whispering sweet musings into his ears.
There she was sitting in the booth of the gazebo, regarding a single flower in a beautifully decorated vase with her slender fingers. Her veil was in the way yet again, but he could imagine that she was gazing at it with admiration. She was wearing a white nightgown again, but this time it reached her ankles, preventing him from admiring her long, smooth legs. Such a shame.
"Are you lost, toots? 'Cause heaven's a long way from here." He was surprised that he could finally speak in this strange place, but he took satisfaction in surprising the mysterious woman whom jolted at his voice. She looked at him in what he assumed was surprise as she straightened up in her seat. It was as if… she didn't expect him to be here.
…Interesting.
"…It's you." She whispered, it was as if she was afraid to speak too loudly lest she scared him off. He was amused at the comparison. As if he could be scared off. "I-I thought that… Wasn't this a…? Wh-What are you doing here?"
He shrugged. "Same as you, dollface." He took a step on the stairs leading into the gazebo. He watched for her reaction as he slowly made his way closer to her. She seemed wary at first, but she began to settle down at his careful pace. "A lost soul wanderin' this god-forsaken place. Dunno how I got here, but if it means being in your company, then…" He took a seat across from her in the booth, his gloved fingers linking together like a net catching its prey. "…I don't mind stayin' here for all eternity."
She regarded him in a way that made him imagine her raising a brow, due to the veil covering her face, before she giggled good-naturedly. A gorgeous sound, he thought. "Well, aren't you quite the Casanova." She leaned on her elbows as she looked at him, her head resting on her hands as she did so. "I bet you reel all the ladies in with your smooth-talking, huh?"
He grinned, even though she couldn't see it. "Well, I don't mean ta brag but…" His smiled widened at her giggles. What was it about her that made him want to keep hearing her laughs? He didn't know, but he didn't care all the same. As long as he could keep listening to her voice, then he was content.
"So, tell me, Mr. Casanova, do you happen to know where we are?" She asked as she gestured all around them. He took in her features, despite being seemingly calm, he could tell that she was uncomfortable and confused with this place just as much as he was. Even though their first encounter was heavenly—pun intended—he knew that when they danced that she was holding onto him rather tightly.
She was scared.
"Hm, sorry ta say this toots but, I have no idea where we are. I'm just as lost as you are." He saw her visage deflate at the disheartening news, and he scrambled to make up for his pessimistic comment. "B-But hey! I-I'm sure it's gonna be alright, yeah? We're just here temporarily, we both wake up back in da real world after our time here, right? M-Maybe there's a reason why we're here!" His hands gestured wildly as he tried to be optimistic, even though he was terrible at it (he was a fucking demon for Pete's sake!), offering a bright, nervous smile at the end even though she couldn't see it.
The singer perked up at his reasoning before she nodded her head. "Y-Yeah, I guess you're right. I wonder what's the reason for us being here?" She didn't notice when her male counterpart sighed in relief.
He went silent as he thought long and hard. He didn't know why he was here in this plane of existence or how he and his new partner got here. But he had an inkling… He just needed a little more evidence. "Lemme answer your question, with another question angelcake," he said smoothly as he stared up at her. "What's ya name?"
She tilted her head in confusion but answered nonetheless. "My name? Well it's—!" Static. All encompassing static filled the void as she tried to answer his question. It was as if this crooked place wouldn't allow them clemency in knowing too much about the other person.
"I thought so…" He grumbled under his breath in annoyance. "I tink I know what's goin' here. But I gotta' be certain."
"Wha… What do you know? I-Is everything going to be alright?" She looked harrowed with fright. And although he couldn't see her face, he knew that she was frowning with confusion.
He boldly took her slender hands into his gloved ones, and ran his thumbs over her knuckles. Her shoulders loosened and sagged as she calmed down, but she began to fidget with embarrassment at his forward action. "Don't worry ya pretty head, dollface. Everything's gonna be alright. Now, I can't tell ya much, but I can tell ya that where we are is in anotha' plane of existence altogether. Eh, I call's it an astral plane."
"A-Astral… plane?"
"Yep. It's like a, what da hell do they call it…? An out-of-body experience, that's it! And souls can exist on this plane to communicate with other souls before returning back ta their original bodies. Like a pseudo-Purgatory." He chuckled at his wording.
His partner, however, was not amused. "I don't know how I feel about being in anything that's like Purgatory, for goodness sake, but I trust your judgement."
Naïve. That was the first thing that popped up into his mind. How can she be trusting of him when she didn't even know him? Much less what he was. What he could become.
He went silent as he stared at her. He took in her womanly visage, her melodious voice, and her all-around good personality… from what he has experienced. From the moment he met her, he has been taking tabs on her. He noticed that she was a rather forward woman, unlike most in this day and age. He noticed that she could be timid and meek in one moment before becoming headstrong and fierce in the next. Changing their personalities so quickly seemed to be another trait that they shared, he noted begrudgingly.
He noticed that she seemed like an overall good character. Like her entire being just oozed righteousness, morality, mercy, and forgiveness. Such traits should've sickened him the moment he laid eyes on her, but… it didn't. It didn't cause him discomfort like when he interacted with his annoying angel counterpart back in the studios, or annoyance whenever they spoke or traded insults from time to time. He felt… content.
Why?
He chuckled dryly, his grip on her hands tightening minutely. "Keheh. You shouldn't just fling yer trust all willy-nilly like dat, toots. It might just comeback ta bite ya. Or worse." His voice turned harsh as he spoke. Why was he acting this way? Maybe it was the fact that it did cause him a small amount of discomfort with her trusting attitude. Maybe he wanted to show her that everything wasn't as roses-and-cherries like she thought it was.
…Maybe he wanted to… protect her by showing her the cruelty of the world.
He jumped when he felt her hands shift. Her palms were flat against his own, their fingers intertwining with each other's. "I know. Believe me when I say, I have been told of how… problematic my trusting nature can be." She sighed and it was her turn to run her thumbs over his knuckles. He was glad that she couldn't see his blush. "But, I'd like to believe that there is good in everyone. No matter who, or what they are." She seemed to be looking straight at him as she said that. Like her veil-covered eyes could pierce into his soul if she so wished it.
He underestimated her.
He chuckled before he laughed. A full-blown, genuine laugh that shimmied a weight off his soul like an exotic belly-dancer. He hasn't felt this light in years.
After he calmed his laughter down—he noticed that she was laughing along with him—he decided that he would reward his humorous companion with a passionate kiss to the hands. He lifted her hands towards his mouth as he gently pressed her slender fingers to his lips. He held on longer than last time, a cheeky testament to his gratitude, and his chest rumbled with amusement as she squeaked in embarrassment. How cute.
"Where's da tag dat says 'made in heaven'? 'Cause ya truly are an angel." He simpered flirtily, causing the woman even more embarrassment. They both jolted as the wayward world began to vibrate, their visions turning cloudy and unfocused.
They were both waking up.
His sweet siren looked at him with mild panic, but he reassured her by squeezing her hands. "Nothin's wrong, it's just dat we're wakin' up."
She sighed in relief before she tensed once again. "W-Will I…?" Her voice died off as her timidity and uncertainty took over.
He smiled, his infamous grin in place under his veil. "Count on it, angelcake."
He heard her smooth, beautiful laughter one more time before his world went dark and he was thrusted back into reality.
"Bendy! Bendy! A-Are ya in there, Ben? Wake up, we've got a viewing in twenty and y-you don't wanna make Sammy angry again, do you?!" Boris's frantic pleads rung in the Devil Dariln's ears as he woke up with a groan. He blinked sluggishly as he rolled off of the couch and cursed as he flopped onto the hardwood floor with a loud thump.
"I'm up, I'm up Boris… Go, ugh, go tell 'em that I'm comin'." The tired ink demon muttered under his breath as he lazily got up from the ground. Pinching the bridge of his—well, where his nose would be. He was already getting a headache. Might need to make a visit to the doctor's, he thought with mild amusement [5].
"O-Okay! I'll go make ya some of your favorite soup too!" His best friend said brightly, before he scampered down the hall. His loud, doggish footsteps could be heard thumping against the walls. He was a good friend.
Bendy sighed as he leaned his back against the seats of the couch, his head resting against the cushions as he recollected his frayed thoughts. He had met her again, that mysterious woman. And they had talked. He smirked as he recalled catching her off guard with his flirty attitude. He thought that it was cute how she would freeze up and fidget when he threw pick-up lines at her. Showed how innocent she was, despite looking the way she did in their previous encounter.
Made him want to taint her.
He shook his head as he got rid of his demonic thoughts. He would entertain the idea later, but for now he had to focus on why they were in that place. An astral plane, he told himself. He knew all of the ramifications and unorthodox encapsulating happenings that an astral plane would entail; he was a demon after all, even if he was a "toon" [6], and demons would travel through different planes of existence on the regular. It was as their jobs entailed.
But he didn't understand why he was there when he didn't mean to go there, or his gorgeous partner for that matter. He told her that souls existed on that plane to communicate with other souls, but that was only a half-truth. Souls could go there to communicate, yes, but only if they consented to going there to do so. It was an ancient practice that either monks or people religiously in-tuned with meditation could achieve back in the day. It was like talking to someone, when you weren't really there. It was like a telephone and a television mixed together. You could talk to the person on the other end, but you could also see at them as well.
It was a weird form of communicating, and Bendy wondered if someone would ever invent something like that in real life [7]. Seemed impossible to him.
So, now we come to the question: What do to about this predicament that he was in?
He yawned rudely, showing off his elongated teeth as he stretched from his cramped position on the ground. Welp, he wasn't going to solve anything from sitting here. But he did have a niggling thought that he wanted to entertain once he was finished with the viewing with the others. Something that might be a possibility in the near future.
A very, promising possibility.
He huffed as he got up from the ground, fixing his bowtie into its perfectly fixed position on his nonexistent neck. His rictus grin widening as his mind buzzed with excitement at the implications that his thoughts brought forth. "Next few weeks are gonna be hell. How fun, huehuehue!" The demon cackled as he walked down the hallways with a swagger in his gait.
All the while whistling a jarring tune that surely put everyone on edge.
Next Chapter: Characters
…I know that I am super late with my stories, and I'm sorry (not sorry). So, uh, announcement. I guess the main reason why I stopped was because last year I was prepping to move out of my parents' place. I did, and now I got my own pad while I'm still in college tryin' to get that degree and degree monies.
Another announcement. All of my Naruto fanfics are on hiatus until further notice. I've got a severe writer's block on all of them, especially "The Lost Clan of Whirlpool" (even though I'm fucking halfway finished on the fucking thing *grumbles angrily*), but I'll try to get that chapter done. Keyword: "try".
So, I bet you're wondering, Dreamer, why are you writing a story on "Bendy and The Ink Machine"? Answer: I have no fucking clue.
I'm buried deep in the garbage that is this fandom, and I ain't coming out of it anytime soon. I just fell in love with it, and I's likes it. End of Story.
Fan: "B-But Dreamer, why are you shipping Inky-kitty with dah Betty Boop?! She's-a not-a even in da game-a!"
Oh, my dear fan-person-thing. I still have no fucking clue. If you are, or are not aware, there is a shipping going around that stars the BATIM's main antagonist (protagonist?) with Max Fleischer Studios very own Singing Queen. It's on the DL, but it has been recently gaining ground. I guess folks like the ship, and I am one of those (cancerous) peeps.
So, yeah. Hope you enjoyed the story, there is more chapters to come, don't worry, and I'll try to center this story in a 1920s and/or 1930s environment like in the game and Betty's time. And about story publishing time: now that I've got my own space, and am focusing on only one story now, I should publish faster. To be honest, I started this story in November and wasn't expecting this chapter to be done until March maybe. So, I am surprised as well.
And for all of you wondering: I'm not dead. So, stop asking.
So, pish-posh and all that, and remember to Keep On Dreaming! Later dudes!
...
[1]: So, I plan on this being Bendy's language mannerisms throughout the story. I was trying to go for a 1920s New Yorker's accent (or Bostonians, which ever you prefer) or a mobster's accent. Might be grating to read at first (it was grating to write, but I'm a masochist), but that's what it's going to be like throughout this story. Deal.
[2]: The ink machine doesn't have a part in this… yet. This AU's a little different, but I'm still debating on what I should do about the ink machine's presence. Leave a comment down below on your suggestions, I'll be happy to review them.
[3]: Pool or billiards was invented in the early 1900s. Eight-Ball was invented shortly after 1900, Straight Pool followed in 1910, and Nine-Ball seems to have been developed around 1920. And, I'd imagined, back then it would've been quite expensive to go a place that catered pool or maybe a speakeasy (an illicit liquor store or nightclub) to play.
[4]: I am referring to a place of rest or leisure not a place for bathing/using the bathroom. Back then, "going to the rest-room" meant that you were going to take a break and rest in the designated room that was made for it. It was also commonly confused to that of a fainting room for women.
[5]: Bendy is referring to the fact that toons don't need to go see a doctor. Since they are "immortal" beings that cannot get sickness or diseases like that of a regular human, they have no need for medicinal practices. Those who have been created for medicinal purposes still practice it, but it's more like a hobby than anything else.
[6]: Refer back to Henry's and Sammy's revelation of Bendy's birth. That's all I'm telling you, for now. :)
[7]: I fourth-walled the shit out of this didn't I? Lol.