The Pony In The Inkwell

He ran down the darkened hallways, limping quickly through the ink. The creatures ahead of him fled from him or were sent back into the ink as he chased after his fleeing target. Finally, he caught up to it, grasping it in his mismatched arms. It struggled for a moment before going limp and returning to the ink. Finding nothing of note, he walked to the nearest wall and dissolved into a puddle of ink.

Reappearing inside of his sanctuary, he sat upon his throne and watched his exploits. The screens showed happier times, when things were simpler.

A reminder of things long lost.

But this shouldn’t be! He had fans, an audience who adored him! He had friends who loved him! He was… he was…

Incomplete.

He was missing something, a missing part of himself, a crucial piece of who he was.

That was why he kept walking the inky abyss, attacking everything came near, for one of them had to contain what he was missing. He did not dare to think what if that piece was forever gone, or what it would mean for him. He looked at the screens, watching through his blurry vision, trying to distract himself from the thoughts tearing away at his fragile mind-

Something fell on his head.

His train of thought derailed, he reached up and felt the object on his head. His hand encountered something he had never felt before. It was soft like the plush toys from the factory level but was warm like fresh ink from the machine that moved when he touched it. Finding a loose fold, he grabbed it and brought it in front of his face to take a closer look.
Something reached forward and wiped the ink off his face, allowing him to see clearly for the first time ever. He was holding a tiny pony by the nape of its neck. It had a poofy, cartoony mane and tail, with a design of three balloons on its hips. Its eyes were also strange, full circles with no visible cut. It also looked… strange, somehow standing out against everything else.

The pony watched him for a while and then spoke. “Hi there!” she said, not at all concerned about her position. “You look funny! Like a moving picture, or something from a page…”

This continued for some time as the pony kept talking. Finally he spoke, making an interjection. “WhO aRe YoU?” he asked, forcing the words out.

The pony wilted. “I’m nobody,” she said mournfully. “They didn’t love me anymore.”

His heart went out to her, her words striking a chord within him. He held her close, trying to do something he didn’t know how to. “i'M aLoNe ToO,” he said.

The pony perked up. “Not anymore!” she said, giving him a hug. “I’m here now!”

He chuckled. “yEs YoU aRe,” he said, the words flowing easier. “NoBoDy WiLl TaKe Us ApArT.”

The pony looked up at him. “Do you promise?” she asked.

He grinned wider. “i PrOmIsE,” he said.

The pony shook her head. “That’s not good enough,” she said. “Do a Pinkie Promise!”

He was confused. “wHaT’s A pInKiE pRoMiSe?” he asked.

“Like this! Cross my heart,” the pony said as she made an X over her torso.

“CrOsS mY HeArT,” he said, copying her motions.

“Hope to fly,” she continued, making the appropriate motions.

“hOpE tO fLy,” he parroted back, doing the same.

“Stick a cupcake in my eye!”

“StIcK a CuPcAkE… wAiT, wHaT?” he asked before his vision was halfway blocked by something the same… shade of the pony’s fur.

The pony giggled as his long tongue reached up and licked at the icing covering his eye. “tHaT wAs DeLiCiOuS!” he said breaking into a laugh. “aLmOsT aS gOoD aS bAcOn SoUp!”

The pony grinned almost as widely as him. “Glad you liked it!” she said.

Getting himself under control, he added, “I pInKiE pRoMiSe ThAt I wIlL nEvEr AbAnDoN yOu, LiTtLe PoNy.”

The pony cheered and hugged him. “We are going to be great friends!”

As the pony snuggled up to him, he added, “Do YoU hAvE a NaMe?”

The pony thought for a moment, putting a hoof to her mouth. “I’m… my name is Pinkie Pie but please call me Pinkie Pie!” she said. “What’s your name?”

He thought back and frowned. He had a name. It was one familiar, one he had seen so many times…

“i’M… bEnDy… yeah, that’s right… I’m Bendy the Dancing Demon!”

The two of them got to know each other for the next few hours, although it was more Pinkie Pie getting to know Bendy, as most of the past of the strangely shaded pony was unknown to her. They eventually ended up watching the cartoons that were playing from the projectors.

However, it got to the point where Pinkie Pie was yawning more than laughing at the antics of Bendy and his pals on the screen. The Ink Demon chuckled. “Looks like someone is ready for some shut-eye,” he said.

“No-oh I’m not sleepy,” Pinkie Pie said with a huge yawn.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Bendy said, standing up from his chair. “The cartoons will be here tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Pinkie said, followed by another yawn. After it had finished, she asked, “Daddy, what’s that one?”

Bendy looked towards where she was pointing. She was looking at a reel beside his chair, a reel that said ‘The End.’ “Nothing important,” he said quickly. Then the rest of her sentence registered. “What did you call me?” he asked.

“Daddy,” Pinkie replied. She then grew worried. “Did I do wrong?”

Bendy stood there for a moment, then hugged her tightly. “No,” he whispered, inky tears beginning to form. “You did good.”

“Yay!” Pinkie cried, returning the hug as the two of them left the room. “Night, Daddy.”

Bendy entered another room and set Pinkie down a pillow shaped like his head. “Goodnight, kiddo,” he said, ruffling her mane, truly smiling. He had a feeling that things were going to be better than they had ever had before.

He silently left the room, letting the pony sleep peacefully. If he had been paying more attention, he would have noticed that the tendrils of ink that had always followed him had vanished, as well as the ink that had continuously covered his face.