LxvingIllusxon

ʙᴇʟɪᴇғ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴜᴄᴄᴇᴇᴅ! 

ʙᴇʟɪᴇғ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀɪᴄʜ! 

ʙᴇʟɪᴇғ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀғᴜʟ! _________________________________

𝐀 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐰

script written by ᗷOOTᔕ

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ᴄᴀɴᴏɴɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴ

ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ

Sammy: Morning.

Susie: Morning.

Shawn: Morning.

Wally: You all sound like a bunch of robots, why don't you spice it up a bit?

Henry: *nodding* Knife Monopoly.

Iɴsᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴡᴀs ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ.

Hᴀᴅ ʜɪs ᴅᴇᴀʀ ɴᴇᴘʜᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘᴀɪᴅ ʜᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜɪs ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs?

"Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ Bᴇɴᴊᴀᴍᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ᴀs ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇɴs ᴀʀᴇ," ʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴡᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, "Iᴛ'ʟʟ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ ʟᴏsᴇ."

Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ, ʙᴇɪɴɢ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴜʟsɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴇᴄɪsɪᴏɴs, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴀs ᴛʀᴜᴇ.

"Aɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ," ʜᴇ ʟᴀᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟʟʏ, "ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀ sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ MY ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ."

Sᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟ ʜɪs sᴛᴀᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀ sᴏᴄɪᴏᴘᴀᴛʜɪᴄ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏss ᴏꜰ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ ʟɪꜰᴇ.

Bᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs Mɪsᴛᴇʀ Dʀᴇᴡ.

A ᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ sᴏᴜʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟꜰ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇɴᴇꜰɪᴛ ʜɪᴍ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴅɪʀᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛʙᴏᴏᴋ.

Aɴᴅ ᴘɪᴛʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʀ sᴏᴜʟ ᴡʜᴏ ɢᴏᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏᴜs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴜʀᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss.

"Pɪᴛʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜɪs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ," ʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇs, "Hᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘᴇᴅ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ."

HOWEVER, ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪs ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇꜰᴜʟ

Tʜᴇ ɪɴᴋ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴛᴇsᴛs ᴀs ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴄᴇɴᴛ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜᴄᴄᴇss ᴀs Jᴏᴇʏ ʜᴀᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇᴅ.

Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ʜɪs ɴᴇᴘʜᴇᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ..ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇɴsᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ's ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ.

Iᴛ's ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ Jᴏᴇʏ sᴍɪʀᴋs, ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ʜɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪsɪᴏɴ.

Iᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴜsᴇᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ's ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇsᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪs ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ's ᴄᴀᴘᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛs ᴄᴏɴsᴇǫᴜᴇɴᴄᴇs.

Bᴜᴅᴅʏ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴏɴᴇ sᴜᴄʜ ᴇxᴀᴍᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ɴɪᴄᴇʟʏ.

A sʜᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ sᴍᴀʟʟᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ, ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇᴏꜰ.

"Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ..I ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ," ʜᴇ sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ ʙᴏᴏᴍs, ʜɪs ᴛᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ, "ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡᴇ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏʟᴅ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ʜᴍ?"

Hᴇ ᴘᴀᴛs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ, ʙᴇᴄᴋᴏɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴅʏ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴛʜ.

1930

A year of success, for the eccentric animator known as Joey Drew, creator of the world's devil darling.

Bendy had proved to be an immense success, and even more so with his wolfish friend added into the mix.

And surely there was more that would come with Bendy and his adventures. But that wasn't what was on his mind as he stared down at the massive build of metal.

Rather..a sense of dark glee, made his eyes gleam.

His newest innovation that not even the likes of his rivals could even dream of creating:

The Ink Machine.

One could say it was Joey's dirty little secret, had they known of Joey's intent with the device, but in Joey's eyes, it was curiosity.

And there was CERTAINLY nothing wrong with curiosity..no?

"Mr. Connor proved to be quite cumbersome," muttered Joey "I do have to ADMIT this his work is VERY immaculate."

Despite the GENT employee's demeanor, his eye for his work was QUITE GOOD, and that was something Joey always loved to see.

Perfection was always something he strived for..and this machine would SURELY bring forth his dream.

His audience loved and adored Bendy, and they often had nearly trampled the ticket booths for a viewing of one of his many shorts...

And how could he not return the gift?

He could only imagine the additional adoration and fame he'd gain when Bendy graced the stage!

Ever so gingerly, he presses the button that turned on the hulking metal machine, the sounds and gurgles it emitted was almost inhuman.

Akin to a human being drowning in ink almost.

As the ink audibly began to solidify and come forth, he began to wonder on his creation:

Would he be like a baby taking its first steps? Or very much like the devil that had enchanted audiences since his debut?

Either way, Joey Drew was ready to see his creation come to life.

That itself was a lie.

Of COURSE Joey had heard of this little cricket..and how couldn’t he have?

It was like ingesting a spew of acid, seeing his rival’s name in the daily paper and whatever ooey gooey praise that Walt was getting...

His audience had been blinded by disgruntled workers...but no matter..the audience would soon be putty in his hands once again..

It’s then that the idea hits him...Maybe he didn’t have to wait long after all..when this little creation was in front of him! 

The cricket was one of Walt’s after all..

Joey then kneels down and uses a finger to lightly pat the cricket on the head “ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ sᴘᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ғᴇᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ?” ʜᴇ ɪɴǫᴜɪʀᴇs “ɪᴛ’s ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ”

He gives the cricket a cheerful expression

Few knew of the dark secrets that lurked within the studio..the horror stories of its creator and the creations he brought into it..

Creations that weren’t your run-of- the mill cartoons meant to make you laugh and smile..

No..something far darker lurked around..inhabited the wooden walls.. And it seemed as if the building, was awakening to the sounds of the dogs paws, as it made contact with rotting wood..the creaks echoing loudly throughout the silence.

One could almost consider it a moan even.

And yet..even amongst the sounds of age and decay..are sounds that suspiciously sound akin to a whisper

Though as much as he could try..it’d be far too incomprehensible to even tell if it was human or just the innocent wisps of the wind. Nothing more than what one would SURELY hear from a scary movie or a haunted house!

Still though, despite the unease..the room has a sort of allure to it..as if pulling you in to venture further..deeper

..deeper into the inky depths of the studio.