If Ray And Hudson Had Escaped The Studio And Gotten Married!

Decay.

YOUR ART IS SO AWESOME!!

AHHHHH GUYS ITS THEM THE FRIENDS YESSSSS

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

Creepy ocs together! XD

I adore your oc!! She looks so cool! Her design? AWESOME! The horror? SWELL! If my batim oc (above) could give her a hug! (He's a ghost so no need to worry about puncture wounds!)

He is the elevator/electricity ghost and he will gladly tend to your oc's elevator and lighting needs!

LOVE YOUR ART ARGHHHH!!! <3

I think she made a friend!

click for better quality

PEOPLE GO READ THIS PLEASE!! IT IS AMAZING. THE WRITER IS AMAZING. gashvahyjsd IT IS ALL AMAZING

continuation from this post

after like two months of (initial) writing and drawing i finally finished the fic!! everyone clap for me profusely (if you want i Guess)

standing at now 38 pages on docs (including images) with a grand total of 13,449 words, i present the first chapter of the longest piece of media i've ever written for anything ever (the neuro is diverging)

Coffee Breath (1419 words) by r0zzk1ll Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Bendy and the Ink Machine Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sammy Lawrence/Norman Polk, Sammy Lawrence & Norman Polk Characters: Sammy Lawrence, Norman Polk, Wally Franks, Thomas Connor (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Jack Fain, Lacie Benton (mentioned), Susie Campbell (mentioned), Allison Pendle (mentioned) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Sammy Lawrence is trans, and heavily autistic, Non-Canon Appearances, First Kiss, Period-Typical Homophobia, Coffee Shop, Denial of Feelings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Tension, Eventual Happy Ending, Headcannoned backstories, Middle aged men acting like high school girls with crushes (Joke), Norman Polk Has ADHD

Summary: Sammy's working late tonight and thinks he's alone, but unbeknownst to him, he's met with a very familiar face when the power goes out. Follow Sammy Lawrence and Norman Polk on an adventure into Joey Drew Studios as they traverse the miserable powerless studio together by pure coincidence, and find out aspects about each other they hadn't known before. Additionally, they learn things about themselves that hadn't been clearer to either party, changing everything for their relationship in the near distant future.

CONTAINS ILLUSTRATIONS!

copied from ao3

i will be updating the fic as i go on, adding more chapters and tweaking things so Stay tuned!!! #booyah

I love your art style! It’s really unique and cool ^^

Oh my God, thank you!! Honestly? I really needed to hear this. Thank you again!!

Rough Day At The Office.

"Eh....sorry to hear you had a rough day. If it helps, I could totally kick your director's ass and steal his keys."

"No?"

"Well, then what do you want?"

"Oh. Okay then. I suppose I can do that. Come here."

"You're going to be fine. Tomorrow is another day. Hell, you were brave to survive today."

"So get some rest. You desrve it."

"I can still kick his ass, just say the word. No? Okay, okay, I'll shut up now."

@thelocalmoth (how do you like the boys? :3)

The smell of copper was strong now, almost unbearable as the lights finally stopped flickering and were back to normal. Sort of.

They were brighter than before.

It was almost baffling when the man reappeared, his form more detailed. Detailed being the worst part.

The man's sides were nothing but a spine and rib cage, peering out of the man's tattered shirt. His slacks were loose on his thin hips, the belt too feeble to do its job. But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was the bleeding, coming from the centre of the man's chest, pouring down and splattering on his rib cage and shirt. The wound looked deep and way too forced to be "just an accident".

The man's face wasn't visible though, his head still keeping to the shadows.

"I can your heart beat y'know."

"That pretty little thing is doing such a wonderful job."

"But let's be honest. It can only do so much to keep you alive."

The studio was quiet. There weren’t many people left, most having returned home by now. There was a background noise of groaning pipes and creaking floorboards as Ray walked down the hallway.

He had left his isolate office space in favor of a cup of coffee and some more paper, which somehow the storyboarding department lacked.

He was nearing the elevator, and mulled over whether the risk of the thing was worth not having to use the stairs.

~ @w-graves-nook

The hallway lights buzzed and flickered above. The air smelled stale, but oddly had a copperish tint to it. The floorboards groaned, always causing the worries of breaking.

The friendly posters and cut outs just seemed dull, almost sickening. The cheerfulness just not being what it used to be.

The air suddenly grew cold, like a cool draft coming in, even with no windows being in the premises. The feeling of dread was being tight in the air as it was almost overwhelming.

A loud clang could be heard as an abandoned type writer had been thrown off of a supply crate, causing metal to scatter into parts.

The feeling of being watched was sudden.

And the air was tense.

Hudson :3

Aww thank you! He looks fantastic!! And oddly Innocent despite his faults XD

Hello, I am Marwan from Gaza .

Could you help me?

My situation is very difficult, and I suffer from chronic diseases, and there is no treatment or medicine for me because of the war we are going through. Prices are very high. Please help me by donating so that I can buy treatment.

https://gofund.me/d0449a4b

Unfortunately I can't donate.

To those who can, PLEASE HELP!

Open your eyes.

I gripped the both sides of the sink, my knuckles turning white.

She can't be dead. She isn't.

The ceremony starts in five minutes. People are already gathering in.

And here I am in the backstage bathroom throwing up my guts.

I stare at the mirror, slowly tilting my head up.

There, a sick looking man just stares back. The rings under his eyes striking out on dull white skin and bleak looking freckles. There's a bruise right in the middle of the bridge of his nose, black, red and purple. His hair is dishevelled as well as darker than he remembers. His tux clinging to his frame, the tie slanted and the buttons loose. Red smeared across his lips.

That man is me.

I turn on the faucet, watching the crimson mixing with clear water as it spirals down the drain.

I cupped up some water and splashed it on my face, cold drenching my skin while it trickled down. I dry my face off with my suit's sleeve, erasing the blood and matting off the water.

I glanced back at myself, my eyes narrowing.

"I hate you," I hissed.

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People are beginning to take their seats now. I recognize a few people in the front row.

Cassidy, wearing a black gown and a tinted veil over her face. Her sea green eyes looking weary and bleak while her husband, Robert, whispered words of comfort and put his arm over her shoulder.

Like that's gonna bring her sister back, jackass.

Clifford, a sort of friend of mine, came as well. He's sitting next to Robert. His suit is a dark grey, looking well cleaned up, considering this guy couldn't give a damn about his appearance most of the time.

Florence also came. Her face looked upset and overwhelmed by sadness. She's wearing a black dress, white gloves and a black rose in her brown hair.

Weird. How do you grieve for a person you've never met?

Charlie's parents are here, sitting on the second bleacher in the front row. Their faces weathered from time, but now chiselled from grief. Her mother won't stop crying.

As people settle down, their voices hushed, the pastor began to speak. Something about her resting in peace and God is watching over her.

Behind the curtain, I visibly scowl.

He's lying. She isn't resting in peace. She isn't watched over by God. If God really was watching, he wouldn't have let this happen.

She was too young. Too smart. And yet too naive at the same time.

"Stop it, stop it, just stop it..!" I whispered under my breath as he continued.

"-may we all grieve for the loss of Charlie Forester. A good friend. A precious daughter-"

"No...no...stop it. You didn't even know her..!" I hissed quietly from behind the blue curtain. I can feel my nails digging into the palms of my hands.

"-and a wonderful sister," the man said,his voice steady as his words echoed through the church.

I froze, feeling like I've been hit in the stomach. My eyes are stinging. My heart is heavy and my chest is way too tight.

I can't breathe and I can't cry.

I can't cry.

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He finished his speech with a few prayers. His prayers are interrupted by quiet sniffles and a few whimpers from Charlie's mother. Does he stops and assures them? As a man of God, surely he cares for his people?

Nope. Just keeps on going with his worthless prayers.

Some prayers bring comfort to folks.

I don't judge. But to folks like me? They never really did.

He's finally done and motions me onto the stage.

I take a deep breath and walk slowly to the front of the stage, replacing the pastor. My figure was bathing in the light above while all eyes were now turned to me.

I can hear a few whispers.

"-he isn't suppose to be up there-"

"-not even related to the family."

"-looks a little young-"

I tense, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. My heart is now rattling against my rib cage.

I cleared my throat, my voice a little rough, "Charlie Forester was someone very dear to me. We weren't siblings by blood, but by a deep bond. And it brings me great...pain..to.." I trailed off.

What's happening?

Sweat beads down my forehead and my knees feel weak.

Stop it.

I continue on, "To have her gone. To have her ripped away from the people she loved and treasured. Even if...even if some of those people didn't deserve her love and time." My tone is still rough, but now it's unsteady.

My vision is blurred at the ends, fogging up almost like glass. The tips of my hands feel numb.

Stop it. Please.

My heart wants out. It's gripping my rib cage like prison bars and won't stop tugging on them, tearing at them. My lungs are getting too clustered and my face feels flushed.

I can't breathe. I can't cry. I can't feel my legs.

I watch as Cassidy looks at me with concern in her puffy eyes beneath the veil.

Clifford's mouthing something at me. Reassurance, maybe? I can't tell.

It's not that I haven't practice this speech. I practiced all the damn time before this day. Even in front of Jack.

I wish Jack was here. Here so he could tell me everything was alright. Here so that he could hug me and comfort me. "It's alright to cry, Hudson," he'd say.

But he isn't here to say that.

The pastor is whispering something to me. I think.

He places a hand on my shoulder.

Don't touch me.

"Are you alright, my son?" He asked.

Do I look alright?

"She's in god's realm. Resting peacefully," he assured me, his hand still resting calmly on my shoulder.

God's realm, my ass.

"Would you like to say a prayer for her now?"

I clenched my fists.

No.

...

I swung my fist, my vision still blurred.

Thud. Gasps. Yells. Heavy breathing.

Two men drag me away from my arms before I can finish the job.

Cassidy's telling me to stop.

Clifford looks horrified.

Florence is sympathetic.

And Jack would probably be disappointed.

They're yelling at me. The men behind me. Their grip forceful as they drag me off stage. Away from the pastor, who's also being dragged away. Not for the reason you might think.

I try and shrug their hands off my shoulders, thrashing as something streams down my face.

I'm crying. Yelling. Screaming.

She didn't deserve to die. She couldn't be dead.

My lungs are begging for air and my heart is still enraged.

My throat burns.

. . .

I̵̢̛͖̩̖͛͝ͅ ̵̧͖̩̹̦̰̲̆̃͑͘͜ḽ̸̢̣̘̭͓̉́̈́͊̇ö̷̢͕͓̘̲̤͇̱v̵̝̙͉̦̘͇̥̈́́͑̄e̸̟̲̼̼͉̜̠͚͛̑́ ̴̗̻́ý̷̨̭̥̲͉̳̦̓̎͑͗̐̂͘͜ơ̶̡͙̻̱̟͔̒ṷ̴͉͕̱̜͗̀͝ͅ,̷̼̭̐͌̃̀́͗̉̕ ̴̞̲͍͕̜͙͋̀͊̈́͐̎̏͑C̶̢̈́̈́͐͐h̴̦̥̻̎̏̌̉̅̏͛͘ä̸̦̬́̈́̏̇̂̌͜r̴͉̲͈̱̞̮̆̽̀ĺ̴̟̳̠̦̱͙͊̔̄͗͂͐̉i̴̧̝̞̺̤̰̩̦̐̇̆̇̄̔ȩ̴̻͎͕̂.̸̮̥̥̖̬̔͌̀͋ ̸̢̰̻̬̩̯̪̗͒̀͋͑͛̈́̐̕ ̸̨̎̓̈́͛̋̒̿͌A̷̞͇̰̓̆͒̕n̴̜̿̄̄͒̚͘d̸̫̪̺̰̟̐̈́̈́̔ͅ ̸̻̅̓̽́͝͠I̷̧̢̳̦̟̾͆̈́̀'̴̤̠̤͆̏̒̑̌͑̒͝m̸̮̓̐̂͑ ̷̺͛̈́s̸̢̈́̀̇̕ơ̴͍͓̜̜̐̀̾͑͋r̵̞̤̹͍͍̠̅̏̓͛̒̅͝͝r̸̡̥̯̘̠̖̼̜̆͌͝͠ÿ̶̖̖̳̜̥̼̜͉̾́̀̕ ̵̡̣͖̪̰̔I̷̝̅̌̿͋̌ ̴̼̭̽̽̓̑̿̽̒͛ŕ̴͖̗͈͓̈́̈́̋̑ų̴̧͕͚͙͎̥̆̂̊ì̸̧͕͓̳̻̪̘͐́̌̇̾̿͜n̷̜͔̙̩̠̞̳̑̊̏̆̚ė̵̤̤͜d̵̨͔͉̜̫̜̽̅͋́̀̂ ̷̟̲͇̓ͅe̵͉͐̉̈̽͑v̴̬̰̊̔͊͘ḙ̷̞̽̑̈́r̶̗̣̣̄͊̈ý̵͓͆͝t̶͙͓̠̼̞̟̦̐̂̍͛͠h̵̡͖̦̻͍̄̋͑̆̽̌i̵̮̱͂̈̅͑n̶̯͓̈́̏͂͒̈́́̇g̵̝̟̃͛͌.̵̳̲̳̭̇̈́ ̸̻̲̅̾͊́̈́̒͘ ̶̤͐̔̐͋͌͆͝E̷͌̕͜v̸̭̲̳̀̊̄͜͠e̶̘̙̦̱͐̃̆͌̕̚͝n̶̡̠͎̮̂̈́̂̇͂͒͝ ̵͖͈̙̗͈̖̍͆͝y̶̢̹͚͇̯͘o̸̢͋̑͗̎͐͐̃͝ǘ̷͍͓̭̼͔̠̈́̐̐̎͝r̸̖̞̩̱̆̊͗ ̸͖̲͙͈̦͈̀̿́͛͊̎́̑o̷̡̬͍̞̰͔͚͆̽̽̅̆̔͝w̸̰̲̖̲͂̊͛̈͛̒͂̉ń̷̡̙̬͖͎͖̎ͅ ̸̥͎̎͒̑̏̍̓͝f̴̩̦̭̬̳̣̜̗͒͑̑̎͋ư̴̪̏̐́̽̍͑ń̷̨̜͓̟͓͉̠͎͗͛͆̓̕e̴͓̔͋r̵̳͍͇̿͌͐͝a̷̻͌͑̈́̎̑̚l̶̙̅́͝͠.̸̳̘̯̝̹̼͓́̐͋̉̅͝͠

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(Gift for @creationandcalamityau . Inspired by our recent rp. @thelocalmoth 's Jack is mentioned as well)

Yoo, I just noticed the drawing requests in your desc. Any chance you have a Jack design? I collect them, y’know. If you couldn’t tell already.

Here is Jack from my AU! I'm happy with his design, just not how I drew him today (he looks a little wonky). His hair is based off a 20's haircut for men, while his suit comes from the early 1900's!