Title: Breaking The Spell Verse: Good Bend(y) With dialogue and outline by @squigglydigglydoo
Henry stood at the edge of the circle, clutching the bottle of acetone like it was a charm against the dark magics that had possessed his old studio. In a way, it was; as the dim whistling in the distance reminded him, he was being hunted by a monster made of ink, in a building soaked with ink, standing in front of the summoning circle forged with ink, and holding the one thing that could erase said ink, erase said circle, and send the demon back from whence he came.
If only the old animator could settle his nerves long enough to actually use the ink remover. As he fidgeted with the cork in the bottle, the ever-present whistling came to a sudden, sharp halt, followed by a pregnant silence, as if Bendy had all at once lost the sadistic whimsy of the hunt. Henry almost imagined he could hear the faintest, most terrified “no” in the distance, as if the very pipes of ink that ran through the walls of the studio carried it to him. He was certainly not imagining the heavy, barreling footprints that started right after, and he only wished he was imagining the door swinging open behind him, or the sticky flecks hitting his back as the inky monstrosity roared his way into the room. He sprung forward, the demon’s claws just barely missing as Bendy swung wildly at him. The room had seemed large when it had just been the animator, but now it seemed horribly, horribly small; in just a short sprint, Henry found himself on the opposite wall, forced to turn around and face the macabre mockery of the little toon he used to draw as Bendy slithered onto the circle, looming and teeth bared in a distended scowl.
"You were trying to get rid of me, weren't you?”, the demon bellowed, sliding ever closer, “WEREN'T YOU?!" Henry felt the wall pressing against his back like the bars on the cage. There was nowhere to run, nor hide. His fingers twisted the bottle’s cork and-- but wait. He had managed to uncork the acetone, and while Bendy was now on the circle, that certainly did not change its composition. With all the strength he could muster, the old animator flung the bottle before him, it’s contents spilling forth in a spray of pungent acid. The few seconds of relief and triumph Henry had died swiftly as he realized that the acetone had missed both marks; it had been flung too far to hit the main circles, but not far enough to nail the approaching abomination in the face, landing instead on the curious quarter-circle just between the two points of the star closest to Henry. His last shot had been quite literally thrown away. Henry knew nothing of magic, of course, besides that it was currently the source of his troubles, however he was right to consider that out of place line curious. A normal pentagram was meant to contain, protect, perhaps even to supplement and feed, but that one extra line had twisted it into something corrupted and cruel, much like the toon it summoned had become. Now that it was without the alien symbol, the magic could go about its intended purpose once more, which it proceeded to do in a great and terrible flash of light, the glow swallowing the demon within whole. Hidden within the violent gleam, Bendy let out a haunting screech. Henry took it as a cue to run, skirting the circle and scrambling out the door, fleeing down the halls as fast as his creaking legs could carry him. As the glow fizzled and faded, the animator could hear Bendy slam against the wall behind him, accompanied by another pained, angry scream.
"HENRY! What the Hell'd you DO TO ME?!" Henry scrambled into another room and pressed himself into the corner, heart hammering wildly against his ribs. Bendy stumbled into the room behind him, slamming once more into a wall and bouncing off it as he turned around, his movements twitching and head jerking from side to side as he tried to find his old animator.
"I'll drag you down to BLAZES, Henry!”, he screeched, and Henry flinched as the sound came out even more garbled than usual, desperate and unstable, “I'll tear your soul out and feed it to the FLAMES! SHOW YOURSELF!" The demon’s voice raised into a shriek as he slammed against another wall, clawing at it for a moment before pushing himself off. "SHOW YOURSELF, YOU #$%& COWARD!"
Henry blinked. The gears of his brains halted and spluttered for a moment as he processed the fact that, instead of a swear, Bendy seemed to have made a noise akin to a foghorn. But that couldn’t have been right, could it? Surely the terror was making him hear things. Bendy continued to tear up the room in the most literal blind panic the world had ever seen, beating himself against every wall before flattening against one on the opposite side of the room, head swinging and breath heaving as he tried to pinpoint any noise that could direct him to Henry. Chunks of ink fell from his form, splattering loudly on the floor, but the distressed devil took no notice. Henry almost worked up the nerve to start edging towards the door as quietly as possible-- with all the noise Bendy himself was making, it wouldn’t be too hard-- when the macabre monster heaved. "Ughck!" The demon’s shoulders shook with a wet cough, spitting a disgusting wad of ink onto the floor. Henry grimaced at it, silently. The demon drew himself upright again, claws biting into the wood as his head began to swivel in search once more, though this time with noticeable effort. "Henry... what... what the &$#% did you do to me?!" That was not a swear. That was the noise a squeaktoy made when pressed too hard. Henry choked on a disbelieving guffaw, hand clapping over his mouth too late as the inky horror turned his head towards him. He ducked as the demon lurched at him, bolting for the door and absconding once more down the hall, the demon hot on his heels. Bendy let out an enraged-- and mildly offended-- roar.
"Did you just LAUGH AT ME?!" Henry knew better than to respond; sweat pouring down his face, he ducked into another room, squeezing himself behind some boxes just as Bendy barged in behind him. Silent once more, he was no longer easy for the blind behemoth to find, and the not-so-darling devil scowled at every inch of open air as he tried once more to pin the animator’s location down. "DID YOU JUST #$&% LAUGH AT ME?!" He was also still extremely offended. Henry managed to catch himself before he could do much further than puff his cheeks. This was hardly fair; he was meant to be in mortal danger, and thus in utter abject terror. Demons making squeaktoy noises weren’t allowed to be funny in such situations. Demons making squeaktoy noises weren’t allowed to be funny at all. And yet, here the old animator was, trying desperately not to laugh at the abomination out to kill him. He attempted to take a steadying breath.
"You think that $#*%'s FUNNY?!" Bendy called out to the otherwise empty room, looking to provoke a response. Henry clutched his gut, aborting his try at keeping his breathing calm in favor of trying to breathe at all without making a noise. "Let's see how you like it when $#$& &%#$# &# %#$%&**!" The string of ridiculous buzzers, bleeps, and honks broke Henry; he gave a helpless guffaw, followed by a powerless chuckle and an impotent snicker. Bendy turned to face him again, head cocked to the side as his scowl twisted inquisitively.
"You REALLY think that's funny, don'cha, you sick *$%&?!" Henry tried to get out and away from the boxes, but failed, tripping and flailing before landing square on his rear, the demon’s head following the sound with an expression that bordered on blank. Then, a twitchy grin formed on his face. "A real COMEDIAN!”, he continued, leaning down a little closer to Henry’s sniggering. "A regular CHARLIE &%&$# CHAPLIN!" Henry wheezed, wiping the tears from his eyes and gulping down a breath. He tried once more to get to his feet, knees shaking as he gathered them under himself. It was only a matter of time before the demon stopped toying with him, but he was clearly making it as difficult as he could for Henry to take this seriously again. The old animator managed to pull himself into a quasi-upright hunch before he found the demon’s face in his.
"LOOK at me when I'm threatening your sorry @$$!" That was without question the sound of a bike bell, and thus it was without question Henry’s cue to fall back on his rump, shaking so hard with laughter that his voice box broke for a moment and rendered him silent as he continued to guffaw. Bendy’s smile grew wider for a second, then fell once more into a frown. He leaned away, head cocking to the side once more, puzzled by how genuine the animator’s laughter seemed to be. He hadn’t heard this kind of laughter since-- since-- --hundreds of faces lit up by movie screens and tv screens and dim projectors and warm livingrooms and smiles, wide smiles, warm smiles, all over the nation all laughing all loving all for him and Boris, all for them, all for REAL-- Bendy groaned, clutching his head as the images danced a painful jig in his skull. Henry, snickering still with every breath, finally collected himself enough to claw his way to the door, using the frame to pull himself upright and clumsily stumble away. The demon took no notice, leaning heavily against the wall and burying the heels of his hand where his eyes ought to have been. More ink shed from his form, shrinking his silhouette and revealing the first white glimmer of his gloves from under the black ooze on his claws.
He didn’t understand. It didn’t use to hurt. Why now? Meanwhile, Henry had at last gathered himself while hiding in a supply closet, hitching breaths making way for a hiccuping heart. Now that he was comparatively calm, it occurred to him that laughing so hard in front of the macabre monstrosity that already wanted him dead was really asking to be mauled in the most painful way possible. And yet, for some reason, Bendy had spared him. His nerves mixed in his stomach as a gurgling blend of unease and confusion. Outside the door, Henry could hear an equally disgruntling gurgle as the inky horror passed by the door. He held his breath until the sound faded, before daring to crack the door open and peek.
The hall appeared empty, but the knot in his guts refused to untangle, even as he waited for some tell-tale creek or drip signaling an ambush. Finally, he forced himself to open the door wider and slip out into the silent passageway. Steps apprehensive, he made his way back to the room with the summoning circle, and across to pick up the bottle of acetone he had discarded in his flight. He turned with the intent of finishing the job. It was then he realized his mistake of not looking at the floor in the first place; while the ink remover had remained where it lay, the circle was disturbingly absent. Henry spluttered and made a few stumbling steps forward, looking around wildly for some faint indication of the summoning circle, but there was none, as if it had never been there in the first place.
"Lookin' for this?" The animator spun around to face a corner of the room, gaping in horror and stumbling back as Bendy slipped out of the shadows, grinning crookedly in Henry’s direction. He offered an ungloved palm up to Henry, revealing the very circle that was once on the floor burned into it, still glowing dimly. Bendy pulled his glove back on with a snap and a dark chuckle as Henry gawked. "Yeah, startled me good, too. After whatever the Hell you did, my hand was hurtin' me somethin' fierce... when I finally took off my glove to have a look, well, there it was, and it wasn't on the floor no more!" He grinned, but Henry took no comfort in the way his mouth stretched or the sinking realization Bendy could see now. The demon continued undeterred; "Ain't that a laugh? I'm summoned on myself now, so there's no goin' back!" The now-smaller and still-terrifying monstrosity threw his head back in a mad laugh, edging a little closer to the animator. Henry fumbled with the acetone bottle before flinging it forward once more. To his despair, only the smallest of droplets came forth, landing barely any distance from himself and causing the demon to pause and tilt his head, watching him in something akin to amusement. The animator turned the bottle upside down and shook, but no luck; all its contents had been used to erase the extra line in the circle, leaving him completely defenseless. If only he hadn’t lost his axe.
"Aw, don't feel too bad about it, ol' pal," Bendy taunted, grin twisting a bit further as he crossed his arms. "I'm already fallin' apart here anyways! Not like that stuff woulda done ya much good anyhow." Bendy rubbed his fingers together absentmindedly. "Now, if it were up to me, I'd say you're in a pretty..." Bendy pulled his fingers apart, rubber ink stretching between them like gum. "...sticky situation, huh?"
Henry stared at him for a beat. Bendy grinned back, yet his expression seemed less mad now and more akin to an excited puppy. "Y'know, like you're between a few rocks in a water bowl--" Bendy gestured to said bowl next to the eerie altar dedicated to him. "...and a hard place!"
More silent staring from Henry. Bendy’s expression dropped into an annoyed grimace. With another blink, the animator realized the demon was trying to be funny. Trying being the operative word, and why? being the question it begged.
"Real tough #$&% audience, ain'tcha?"
Oh, no, not this again. Henry’s own lips twitched into a smile, but he forced himself not to laugh. The demon’s frown only grew deeper, darkening with frustration and disappointment. "Not so funny anymore, am I? So much for that." Bendy stepped forward, his posture slumping into something more threatening. "Guess it's lights out for you, pal."
The inky monstrosity raised one gloved claw, as if to strike. Henry, terrified, tried desperately to think of a way to prevent Bendy’s hand from coming down, and in a moment of mindless word association, blurted two words: "A b-blackout!" It had the intended function in that the demon’s arm stopped mid-air, if only because he was pausing to frown at the animator. Henry stared back at him for a second before realizing what had come out of his mouth, and then spluttered in an attempt to explain himself, "You know, black! Like, like ink!"
The joke fell deathly flat, but Bendy's arm lowered a bit more.
There was an awkward silence for a beat before Henry spoke again, pushing his luck and comedic talent. "Y-you know, Bendy, you don't, uh..." He fumbled in his pocket for the ink well he found earlier and pulled it out in front of Bendy. "You don't look so WELL."
It would’ve been impossible for a human to make an expression so flat it put the very salt flats of Bolivia to shame, but being a animated abomination Bendy pulled it off quite well. Henry grimaced sheepishly and shoved the inkwell back in his pocket, running a hand through his thinning hair and stuttering as he tried to think of another joke.
"...for a guy who works in 2D, your jokes sure are one-dimensional."
Henry blinked and looked up at Bendy again, who was still frowning, if less so. He allowed himself a shaky smirk. "...Well, I'm so used to using pens, it's no wonder I need to brush up on my comedy act."
"I'm the one dripping with ink, so why are your jokes all wet?"
"Maybe it's because I don't have your devilish wit?"
"Sounds like you need a 'toon-up."
"Well, we're in the right place for that."
There was another empty beat between the two before Henry began to chuckle, against all odds. As his laughter grew louder and more full, Bendy’s expression slowly brightened into a wide grin. Hesitantly at first, then more sure and full of mirth, the demon’s own laughter joined the animator’s, the support beams of the room shaking a little at the volume of the jovial outburst. Henry leaned over to slap his knee as Bendy wrapped one arm around his stomach and threw his head back in a delighted cackle.
Henry’s laughter slowly began to fade, but Bendy’s only grew higher in volume and pitch. It grew, and grew, until it was less a laugh and more a hiccuping shriek. All at once, like the floor was dropping out from under his feet again, Henry realized that while the dancing demon was still hysterical, he was definitely no longer laughing.
The demon's body quaked and quivered with his own wailing, curling his body around the arm on his middle as a deluge of ink fell from his form and onto the floor. Henry skittered backwards, only just managing to keep himself from falling over as the thick liquid slammed against his ankles. He gave an involuntary shudder, remembering all the halls he had to wade through filled with the hateful stuff. Catching himself on the wall as the ink soaked into the floor and vanished, the animator looked back up where the inky horror should’ve still been.
Henry did a double-take.
Bendy was so small now, the shedding of ink leaving a three-dimensional carbon copy of the little toon he had drawn so many times in its wake. He stood in the middle of the floor, one arm still curled around his stomach as if trying to hug himself while the other arm laid across his face. He sobbed into it, and even his voice seemed smaller, higher, much more in line with the beloved cartoon he once was. For a moment, Henry’s eyes darted to the door. Bendy was rather fully absorbed in his despair; it would be easy to just walk to the door. He could leave the studio forever and never look back. He hesitantly made his way over to the tiny demon and crouched down to one knee. "...Bendy?"
The little demon's head snapped up to look at Henry. For the first time, Henry saw his face -- mostly, at least, as half of it was still covered with rivulets of black, Bendy’s form continuing to ooze somehow without losing more ink. The one eye that he could see, however, was wide and wet with dark tears, spilling down his cheeks with wild abandon.
Without even thinking, Henry pulled the cartoon into a tight hug. Bendy froze in his arms, gasping in a sharp breath as his mind attempted to come to terms with what just happened. All the Creators had been traitors, hadn’t they? They lied to him, to everyone. They took Boris away from him. Everything that happened, it was their fault, wasn’t it? And yet Henry wasn’t running, or kicking him when he was down, like he was supposed to. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was meant to pan out. Why would Henry--
The answer was simple, and yet the weight of it hit him like a tumbling safe; Henry wasn’t with them. Henry wasn’t with Joey. He had been wrong.
Bendy’s shoulders sagged, and his head fell forward, hiding in Henry’s chest as another batch of sobs spilled forth from his throat, keening with all the grief he had forgotten or ignored for all these years. Henry looked down at the poor, shaking thing and could only hold him tighter. As the room echoed with Bendy’s sobs, the animator’s mind whirled as he tried to figure out how it had all come to this.