✔️Ink Bendy x Reader - Alone Within the Ink #Wattys2019

Entering the Studio

10/21/17, Edited 7/25/19
(A/N: I know it's been 30 years in the book. Just stay your desired age. Also, from the beginning of this story, Bendy will look like his former model (not the weird Beta one, the one just before Chapter 4). He doesn't look like his current Chapter 4/5 model for reasons.)

It wasn't the same. Nothing was as you remembered it. About thirty years it had been. Thirty. Whole. Years.

You closed the door behind you, slightly irritated by the obnoxiously loud creaking from the unoiled hinges. Right off the bat, you took a mental note of the state of the place. The once bright, cheery, and lively animation studio was now dim, empty, and leery. There was dust everywhere. Why, there were even specks of it floating in the air all around you, softly landing on your face, in your hair, and anywhere else.

You walked down the long corridor, occasionally glancing at the posters on the walls. You came into a larger room, your interest now piqued as the film wheels were still rotating, and the old movie projector was still in motion, projecting a blank yet bright screen onto an empty wall. Dozens of Bendy cutouts of all sizes were all over, mainly in corners.

"It's so.....depressing." You whispered in shock.

It took you a second to, once again, get over the fact that this workshop would never be the same again. From that day on, it was to only be a dark, lonely place. Directing your focus back to the real reason why you dared come back, you turned to the right.

You walked down the hallway and turned yet another corner. It was at that point that, as your eyes came to rest upon a strange sight, your heartbeat increased, yet your pace greatly slowed. There, on the wall, written solely from the blackest of ink, were the words, 'Dreams Come True....'

"What the....?" You whispered to yourself in confusion. You remembered that saying.... Joey Drew. Henry, too. You had been partners with them. While they were the most important on the small crew, they considered you second, though technically third, best. But why would it be written on the wall?

Slowly, you crept forward and outstretched your hand. You lightly tapped the black letters, surprised to find the ink still slightly wet. "This is recent." You observed your index finger, now covered by a tiny spot of sticky ink. "Someone's here."

Suddenly, you heard a large crash. What is was? You had no idea. Your heart nearly stopped at the intensity of the sound. It was as if an angry person had just chucked something metal.... Or if a desperate person, trying to rush away from something, ran into something with a great amount of force. Either way, you quickly walked down the hall that you thought the sound had come from.

You turned yet another corner and immediately froze in shock, a large gasp escaping through your lips. You knew him. You adored him. And he had been violently murdered, per se. You dashed down the hall and skidded to a halt in front of him. There, tightly strapped to a board, with chest and ribs ripped to pieces, was Boris. Sweet, innocent Boris.

"Oh my god...." You whispered in horror with a slight break in your voice. Tears began to brim as you looked at the horrid sight. "Joey, what in the world is wrong with you?" At least, you assumed it was Joey. Who else could it have been? Who else had that power? You looked to your right to see more ink letters. 'Who's laughing now?'

"What kind of sick, twisted nightmare is this?" You thought. Touching those letters as well, you noticed they were even newer than the other ones. Somebody was close.... And they knew you were here.

You backed out of the room and entered a new hallway. Turning around, you came to lay eyes on a large switch. Large tubes of ink led throughout the room. Seeing as how the sign above the lever read 'Main Power,' you assumed it to be a power source for some kind of ink flow. Hesitantly, you neared it and activated the power.