I managed to get 300/300 on my English final by writing about QftIM/MotM basically. I wanna say it's a joke but it's fucking not and it was wild. Like for the assignment we were meant to make this sorta dystopia and we had three choices to do, either a one pager and art piece to go with it, a diary entry and some other writing project- so I did the art one and it was more or less my own AU inspired by MotM, and it was also inspired by "The Truman Show". I can't draw perspective though I'm practicing it more now... also the story is under the pic, it's more or less a summary of what I was thinking of doing, I can write better I promise š the only difference is that I had to reformat it for Tumblr to allow me to post- which is why all the spacing is uneven. It haunts me and I just need to get this out there, I sadly didn't take a picture of my piece before I turned it in tho, so theirs a few differences like people watching him and Cameras but it gets the point across. And yes, I did it on cardboard, and glued some paper on it. I was too lazy to ask my mom to take me to get paper for it, plus it's cheaper to use things around the house than getting new supplies for one project (that if I failed meant I wouldn't graduate) so enjoy my shoddy writing Tumblr
For years a rumor floated throughout each town, a legend, about those of the Ink. A group of people once living among the other only to disappear without a trace and with this disappears any mention of them vanished, not so much as a textbook left to tell the tales of old. But a tale re-told and re-done arose, woven over time by The Stars, carefully chosen words, false damages done by āChildren of the Inkā as The Stars dubbed them.
The people always listened to the Stars, once they were average toons but all stood above the rest in their own way thus becoming the law, the ones in charge and managing each of their own sectors, with only two above them: The āDirectorā and āExecutiveā. Presumably they're at the helm of everything, the ones truly in charge with the Stars being nothing more than front men. But I digress, this isnāt about them, this is about the dangerous tall tales.
The tales that lead to discrimination towards those who resemble those from the tales, they are always treated differently, always watched far more than other toons. Almost every camera, whether they know it there or not, watches them. Which takes us to Bendy, a young toon who resembles those of myth, almost resembling the primary deity of the ink. For a majority of his life, he spent it working to get on the good grace of the people, to ensure he and his younger brother both could live a good life. Heād gotten used to it from a young age, being referred to as a ācrankā or āstupā from a young age for his lack of talking and, oftentimes, his looks. But that had changed one day, a Star found him, at 7 years old living on the street.
A cold winter evening without food, and being alone had somehow turned into being adopted by the Star in charge of the Research branch, Felix Messmer. He didnāt quite remember it as it became a blur in his memory, it was a start contrast to the snow laden streets. He was grateful as his life changed within seconds. He even had a younger brother now, Boris, whom he cherished dearly. Yet, to the public, being the Adopted son of a Star wasnāt enough, he was still judged, even when he started going to school, most avoided him, even the teachers seemed wary.
Everyone but his family seemed wary. But the Stars, oh the Stars, they seemed to have a sort of fascination with them, it wasnāt always pleasant. Sure they were nice to him, but it always seemed to be to study him in a sense, even in public, heād see them, or their assistance observing him. Heād get scolded for āmistakesā even if Felix attempted to step in and stop it. Bendy always dealt with it, learnt to be an outstanding citizen. Working young despite his family being well off, studying, even learning guitar. He did everything right. Then he learned of the legend behind the Children of the Ink. Learned that there might be a race of old, one erased from history for whatever reason.
A fascination blossomed, and as one might expect, he began researching. Between shifts, school work and guitar lessons, he would read, search for anything that could point him in the direction of the truth. And when your father's quite literally in charge of the research branch, it helps get access to certain materials and resources the public can't access. But the more he learned the more he was being watched. Gradually, his teacher, co-workers, almost everyone but his family seemed to change in behavior. A lot happier, calmer around him. It started subtle, but he could tell. Those who gave him looks and bothered him were acting all buddy-buddy with him, no longer jabs or pushing him about but acting like they've been friends.
No matter where he was, he felt like he was being watched, those damned cameras always seemed to stare directly at him. Even when he's with Boris, they always seem to watch. Going to Borisās school to see him perform in the high school band? They watch him, even Boris. Walking to his Collegeās library? They're watching him. Working overtime and helping clean up the restaurant? His own damn boss watches him! And he knows it, they're not even hiding it well! When they watch he can feel every hair on his neck stand on end- well, he would if he had furā¦ or a neck. But that's something else entirely.
There's a lot heās missing, and he knows it. A lot that makes him less normal. A lot he changed about himself to appear more like a normal toon, then a demon.
