inkkings

listen to me, fate. i’ve been told so often it’s gonna get better that i’m not willing to accept it won’t. not anymore. you’ve fucked me over so much my body still hurts from things five years ago. i don’t care what you throw at me. i’m gonna try and love every rock and leaf. i’m gonna be better and do better even if it kills me. i’m going to make it. i’m going to be endlessly kind and giving and loving to everyone i see. fuck you. i’m going to fight for happy.

Underverse Summarized
  • Looks like a cinnamon roll, but could actually/probably kill you: Ink, Sans, and Cross!Chara.
  • Looks like they can kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll: Cross
  • Looks like a cinnamon roll, and is a cinnamon roll: Dream and Blue
  • Looks like they can kill you, and could actually/probably kill you: Underfell Sans, X Gaster, Gaster, and Nightmare
  • Is choking you by force feeding you cinnamon rolls: @jakei95
it scares me that
I can sculpt
love poems
from the same letters
you use to
spread hate.
—  good vs evil by shelby leigh

It wasn’t until I met you
that I realized what they
meant by the term
“selling your soul
to the devil,”

because sometimes the
devil doesn’t come in
horns and cloaked
with darkness-

he comes dressed
in hazel eyes, smelling
like leather jackets
and wrapped up in
beautiful lies.

—  and more often than not, he breaks your heart // Genefe Navilon

Do you want to know a secret? Come closer, but not too close or you will get weird ideas. Because that’s what I am to you, right? A pair of legs who will spread according to your will. A pair of knees who will bend to pray in the morning and will satisfy your pleasures in the evening. I’m sorry if I’m being too blunt but my mouth can talk, among other things. And we’re the same, you and I. We share the same wishes, the same sins, the same thoughts but only I will be blamed for it.

I bleed in red valleys ending at the maturity of your thoughts. You bleed into paintings strung across the same notes that bind our shoes, and while I’m restricted to interpreting lips for wants I don’t desire, I still crave understanding that surpasses the skin I’m greeted in. You raised a person when you held her shoulders down and loved in self-conscious, yet wonder why she trusts people like a voice to text to get thoughts right the first time.

Is an apology for privilege a welcome one? Should a win not matter because someone lost? Do I have to spell out the words I AM SORRY every time someone treats you unfairly for reasons that can’t be explained with clothes on? If I was sure it would help you lead a life better than the goddesses we came from. I would. I have always known you were no different from me. I just wondered if you knew it, too. Because that’s a start.

—  Collab between the three musketeers, better known as @giulswrites  @teacup13 , @writingbykawelwa
What am I to you? Home? A temporary shelter? An escape from reality? Means to an end? Necessary or a necessity? What am I to you?
— 

-You are everything to me.

-m.t.t.

Scars

The chair creaked as Henry plopped down on it with a huff. He rested his cane on what he presumed to be a desk next to him and leaned back. Soft drips and a wet slapping sound told him that Bendy was standing in front of him.

“Let’s rest for a minute, buddy…”

Okay.”

With that he heard a heavy plopping sound, one that shook his chair slightly, as Bendy flopped backwards onto the floor. There was a few moments of silence and Henry closed his eyes, trying to relax his aching body.

He wasn’t expecting to feel a familiar soft hand touch his face. A gasp escaped him as he jumped a little and the hand pulled away for a moment before Goopy let out a soft, inquisitive growl. And then the hand went back to his face and traced one of the scars, going from his eyebrow, across his nose, and to the other cheek.

Henry chuckled. “You want to know how this happened?”

He heard a deep “Mhm,” and smiled. “Alright.” With that he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Soft breaths hit his face, and he could tell Bendy was sitting very close to him now.

“I got drafted in a war. I was out in the field when we hit a mine. It um…” He scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat in the process. “It took out the guys a few feet away from us. The shrapnel hit me in the face. And since then, my world’s been nothing but blackness.”

There was a few moments of silence. Then he suddenly felt Bendy’s hand on his face again, right over his eyes. With a smile he did the same in return, feeling a deep frown and a furrowed brow underneath all the goopy ink.

“Don’t worry about it bud… I’m still the same guy as I was before. Just like you’re the same Bendy I created.”

He heard Bendy’s breath hitch. The hand on his face froze immediately, and he could feel the tremble that came soon afterward.

“Now, now… we’ve talked about this before. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but you are still my little guy…”

Suddenly he felt cold, sticky ink all around him. It took him off guard at first, but then he felt the ink tremble and he gave a smile, wrapping his arms around Bendy’s thin form. He rubbed the toon’s back, giving him a slight squeeze before letting go.

“Let’s get moving again, yeah?”

He felt the head in his shoulder move in a nod before Bendy pulled away. “Okay.”

“Alright, buddy… let’s get out of here. Together.”

My first BATIM fic, of my own AU lol