Bendy And The Ink Machine Cut Out Novels & Stories

The machine hummed like a restless heartbeat, the needle gliding across skin as Ayla Cross filled the curve of a raven’s wing with black ink. The smell of antiseptic and cedar oil wrapped around her, the familiar perfume of creation. Outside, rain streaked the windows of The Runed Den, her little shop tucked between a pawn store and a bakery that stayed open too late.

Tank chuckled as he settled down next to her. Ink undid the last cuff and gave her a light kiss. “I’ll be right back to give you cuddles.” Her eyes were still glazed over and Ink knew that they could do so much more to her. But for now, he pulled out of her and then removed the vibrator from her ass, turning it off. She pouted at losing the fullness that they both gave her.

The ink was falling so thick that it was writing itself into Elara's veins before she could even speak: C-L-E-A-R--T-H-E--B-E-D.--T-H-E--T-H-I-R-D--E-D-I-T-I-O-N--I-S--C-A-N-C-E-L-L-E-D Elara did not touch the silver tool in her wrist. She did not look at the iron stamps that were falling from the Assessors. With one heartbeat she made the blue ink in her veins go back up. She did not let it flow back into her chest; she pushed it all out through her arm, shooting it into the big gears of the machine.

added one of the soldiers. The colonel's eyes squinted. Suddenly he felt itchy on his arms and legs. Without further ado, he swiped the crawling creature with his hand, cursing. It fell down on the floor, moved, and tried to fly away but the Colonel was swift. He stumped on it, flattening it with his boot, its fluid oozed out under his sole. Feeling triumphant, he ordered his men. “OK, let's get on with it.”

"They are trying to flatten the sector before we can find a variable!" There was this deafening blast from a steam whistle that tore through the woods. A massive tracked binding machine crashed onto the highway, its curved steel blade scraping along the road with this screech. The machine was not alone. Dozens of molders were clinging to its flanks, their white aprons stained with this fresh wet stream of midnight-blue ink. "The journal!" Julian roared. "Elara you have to write an exception! If you do not anchor a font path the machine will roll over our profiles at the next intersection!"

“The Market isn’t dead, June. It’s fixing itself. Those are Auditor machines—they’ve come to take the Ingredients back!” The glass spiders moved fast. One sprang at Raven, who was still carrying lunch. “Raven, get down!” Marcus yelled. He snatched a metal tray from the food stall, swung hard, and shattered the spider into a thousand shards. But for every one he smashed, ten more landed. “We have to get to the school!” June yelled, still fighting the pull of the book. “The medical lab! I need the machines there—to separate the bad ink from the good soul before that door opens all the way!”

​The heavy wooden door of Ink & Iron swung open, letting in the cool, crisp evening air of Nairobi. The studio was quiet, the usual loud bass music replaced by the low, comforting hum of a single tattoo machine running in the corner. Neon violet and amber light cast long, stylized shadows across the concrete floor, reflecting off the framed artwork lining the walls. It was after-hours, a time usually reserved for quiet reflection, but tonight, the space felt charged with a different kind of creative energy.

I'd only managed to pull a little piece before asking, "could you please some hot water in a bucket, the cloth seems to be stuck to my skin if you don't mind." He hesitated a little before walking out of the room, once again leaving me alone. While he was out I tried the other arm which wasn't as deep and began slowly pulling the cloth. The right arm wasn't as badly cut compared to the lift so by the time Dante had returned with the bucked of hot water and another cloth I managed to reach half of the wound.