As it says in the title, these are oneshots of characters from Blogthegreatrouge's comic series
Bendy and Boris; the quest for the ink machine.
I own none of the artwork. I found them all between google and thebbros tumblr.
Some of them I di...
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You used to work here once. It was thirty years ago, here, with your eccentric father, Bertram Piedmont.
A broken Robot A fading memory Bolts rusted tightly Gears no longer turn And like your father before you, you remained trapped within your creation here in the failing theme park.
You fused into the robotic singer that was meant to be taken upstairs to the theater room.
Your rusted limbs creak and groan, protesting your every movement. The gears sluggishly turn, demanding oil to lubricate them.
A fragile program A coding rewritten A kindred spirit A soul that still burns You wandered where you could. Tearless cries escaping from the faltering voice box. Ceaselessly dancing whenever a tune reaches your programmed sensors. Still you fought, up the steps to your favorite place.
The music room. More importantly, Sammy's old office.
The esteemed music director listened closely as the foreign creaking and clanking entered his territory. He readied his axe as he ventured forth to investigate.
A knife that sharpen to cut all red strings A smile that sharply brings an end to all things good and pure He reached the foyer just as you made your way into the recording room. The loud creaking intensifying as your body locked up slowly.
Quietly, he crept inside the room. His grip tightened on the axe's handle.
Iron dripping Seductive allure But no, Wait, Stop He was about to bring the axe crashing down, when you cranked your head to meet his gaze.
He froze. Inky, bloody, liquid seeped from your eyes as you stopped moving.
Grabbing a can of the infamous black sludge and an old rag, Sammy approached you. The axe forgotten on the floor.
Take a breath Remember You are flesh Using the rag, sammy used the cursed ink as a substitute for the oil your body needed so desperately.
Though you couldn't see past his mask, you knew that your appearance saddens him as his inky flesh caressed your cold steel skin.
Metal Creaks Buttons pressed Screaming voice Wearing white Dress After revitalizing your time worn joints and pressing a few buttons, you were moving like a brand new doll.
Your screeching voice now flowed out like silk. And instead of the tattered rotted cloth, you were adorned with one the was a nearly clean crisp white gown.
So eat her heart You didn't recognize your own reflection in the mirror. You forgot what you looked like.
especially before the ink demon ripped your still beating heart out of your chest thirty years ago.
