Comms Open!! ^^ (and just plain old art requests.. (PLEASE. SHIPS. PLEASE. RAREPAIRS. PLEASE.) im just really bored rn lmfao) The Proud Community Curator of The Inkypetals fanclub Happy to help if you need it my fellow petals!!!!
Definition: An identity for those on the ace/aro spectrum who experience a deep, undeniable “gravitational pull” toward romance and partnership, without the “heat” of sexual attraction or the “spark” of traditional crushes. You want the whole constellation, not just one star.
———
“I don’t need to catch a spark to build a universe.”
———
(Aka, I'm poly, pan and aro/ace xD)
~ Gender (Also made by me ToT)
✧ P R I NCE F L U X ✧
(prince-flux)
Definition: A gender identity for those who are firmly men/masculine-aligned but whose experience of manhood is inseparable from high-femininity. You embrace femininity not as "womanhood," but as a masculine performance. Like a prince in a fairytale, you can have long hair, soft features, and "femme" traits while being 100% a dude.
Just some pronouns that fit with my own lil homemade label ^^
Anything but she/her PLEASE.
I'm in so many fandoms I forget all their names ToT but main hyperfixations rn areeee...
MOTM
Spy VS Spy
Minecraft (in the progress of trying to make a ARG actually xD) [more on that later]
Cuphead.
b e n d y.
Sans AUs
Rubberhose (is... is that a fandom-? I just really like rubberhose ToT?)
Mickey FUCKING mouse 🥰
☆
Some random tibits about me!
I love writing, and have been writing consistently since i was 11-ish years old!
I started drawing when I was about uhhh 5? And I come from a family of artists and salesmen xD
I've got about 8 living siblings, and a adhd dad n a wonderful stepmama.
I am in scouts! Meaning I can hook you up with some cookies, trust.
I am a fucking freak. (<- deadass, just ask my friends ~TUT~)
I am the married father to many.. many.. MANY. Sons. And my we/us creature with many voices. And enby child! :)
Mageny, Ace, Green, Acey and Tabula Rasa/Bugs!
[And many more ToT]
(On the note of my marriage, i am happily with my dearest wife! @vigilant4venuecr4zy is a wonderful person and I love her very much [in whatever way my romanceless self can])
I am platonically married to a somewhat willing enby, Kepto. @keptomainatic licks you.
Love ya you silly silly creature :)
My soul belongs to this genderless God that is my darkened sky with amber clouds and golden rain. ( @alpha-king-victor )
You are my biggest inspiration and one of the rays of hope i have in this world.
I like uncrustables.
A...
A lot.
And pie... ohhhh I love pie....
Anyways, welcome to my slice of hell my darling dears!
Hey I decided to cover my account cuz yeah mweheh, anyways...when will mythos studio season 1 come out? And are you okay? You told me that you were tired and exhausted and you couldn't keep up, please dont tell me ur quitting
Yeah, it will but it will take too much time since im the only one working on it and nobody helps me, it would be wonderful if I had a partner who helps me, and yeah I am exhausted and tired and im not quitting, i will need a break before starting my ms au project. Thank you for asking, and please to any artists PLEASE HELP ME WITH THIS PROJECT I CANNOT KEEP UP BY MYSELF, INSTEAD OF LIKING MY POSTS AND JUST SCROLLING SEND SOME FUCKING LOVE AND CHEER ME UP TO MOTIVATE MY LAZY ASS INTO MAKING THE SERIES, sorry I got a bit too harsh, if you're an artist please comment and contact me, im at the urge of quitting and im exhausted. I really wanna work on this mythos studio series its amazing and I think that it will blow up but I cannot do it without any help so please, you can like and reblog this to tell others and comment atleast, I need atleast 2 or 5 artists to help me draw the scenes, and I can send you the pages that you will do and we will work on it together, that way we can finish it quicker and make it into a succeed, please, I cant just be writing posts begging for someone to help me, I Hope posting this is worth it, thank you all.
I just came across your corpse bride au again after seeing it a while back and that one bendystraw doodle just. Sent the brain worms (or maggots in this case) screaming and running.
Anyways...
Wip art and... a poem :)
Said poem;
The river speaks in your voice.
Not words.
Just wet choking noises
through a throat full of stones.
I lay where you left the world,
drunk enough to make the stars sway sideways,
skin slipping from my arms in long black ribbons,
like theater curtains after the fire.
You always did love an exit.
The cliff crooks over me
like a broken jaw.
Below, the river foams white at the teeth,
still chewing.
And there you are.
God.
There you are.
Not whole. Never whole again.
A congregation of you.
Maggots writhing in the shape of devotion,
your grin reconstructed in larvae,
your hands remembered by worms,
your ribs picked clean and reassembled wrong
by hunger.
Bits of riverglass skull
caught in the mud like pearls.
You crawl from the bank in awful little hymns.
I laugh so hard I cough blood into my teeth.
“Darling,” I say,
though we only loved each other
for forty-seven hours
and a fistfight.
Romeo had poison.
Juliet had a dagger.
You had warrants out for your arrest
and enough chemistry
to rot fruit from ten paces.
You climb onto my chest.
You smell like opened graves in summertime.
Sweet.
Bursting.
Alive with death.
Your maggots pour into my collarbone
through the softening skin.
I let them.
I spread my ribs like cathedral doors.
Eat, eat, eat.
My body peels apart beneath your mouth
in tender strips,
blackened like old ink soaked through paper.
You hum while feeding.
I remember that.
You always hummed.
Even while hiding the poker chips
Even while clearing the table,
And sending rage through
the other players.
Even while kissing me
like you wanted to break into my lungs
and live there.
The worms burrow deeper.
I moan.
God forgive me, I moan.
Because this is intimacy, isn’t it?
To be consumed so completely
nothing survives untouched.
Your teeth are gone now,
so your children do the work for you.
Soft little mouths.
Thousands.
They crawl beneath my skin
and turn me holy with appetite.
I can feel my face collapsing inward,
eyes leaking warm down my cheeks,
mouth filling with the taste of pennies
and riverwater.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
You kiss me with your ruined jaw
and part of you falls off into my lap.
I tuck it into my pocket like a love letter.
The night bends.
The stars drip.
Somewhere below us
the river drags another piece of your spine downstream
like a bridal veil.
And still you eat.
And still I ache for it.
“Take everything,” I whisper.
My voice comes apart wetly.
“Leave me clean.”
So you do.
You open me like fruit left too long in summer,
and I hold your ruined face
while your countless little mouths
make a feast of my heart.
---
Anywayy!!.. uh... enjoy!!.. ^^"
I dont think i can even begin to express how much I love this poem and you for making this. It is the most wonderful honor to receive such an absolute masterpiece. One that was so beautifully written and breathtakingly imersive that in the 3 days since you have sent this to me, I have already read about 16 times.
I’m so sorry I kept this from the public for even a second because genuinely the second I finished reading it for the first 3 times I immediately set out to draw it to your description and answer with it. But then i realised that that would take to long to finish and i think this poem deserves to be its own stand alone post.
I sincerely love this poem so much. I have thought about its contents and how you chose to describe it in relation to Bendy’s character and his relationship with Cuphead so much. Here are just a few of the many lines that have been rotating in my mind for days:
“drunk enough to make the stars sway sideways” “The stars drip.” —> to me this means that the cuphead bendy sees is not real but a result of his intoxication. This implies so many things especially with the maggots that is just so spectacularly grotesque. And when he mentions the stars again it may be him coming out of his trance? Either way it provides context to the scene that allows him to question in the possible morning whether what he saw was real, as well as explaining why he is so calm and accepting of Cuphead returning as a corpse
“The cliff crooks over me like a broken jaw” holy fuck that is beautiful imagery, my jaw literally dropped the first time i read it like holy hell? It’s so disturbingly delicate and yet beautiful that fits in so perfectly with the Burton corpse bride universe. “Still chewing” —> like how the river is still destroying cupheads body, LIKE HOW BENDY IS STILL GETTING EATEN AWAY BY HIS GREIF?
The entire description of cupheads form, gods help me Bendy’s REACTION TO IT. I cannot quote all of it but I will possibly never get over how you wrote it to be so adoring, despite his disturbing decaying form bendy cannot help but be in awe of his love “Darling”, AUGH HOW MY HEART ACHES! THIS IS THAT GOOD SHIT!!!
It means so much to me that you included my offhand mention of Romeo and Juliet for my cb!bendystraw idea, and communicated it so elegantly and poetically that its the pinnacle of ART.
“Alive with death” holy oxymorons to end all oxymorons. Lord give me strength this is peak.
I am a sucker for when partners notice and adore the tiniest of idiosyncrasies like humming. Holy hell Bendy’s tragic recollection of such a tiny detail as him humming while gambling? And the thought of is cuphead wasn’t truly here he might have forgotten this trait that he loved so much? My heart? Pouring on your floor?
“God forgive me, I moan”. Fucking hell Bendy’s rang of reaction to seeing and remembering cuphead from the fluffiest of fluff to his regrettable lust is actually drowning me. I am so happy.
“Your teeth are gone now, so your children do the work for you.” That is such a sickeningly cool yet grotesque concept. I applaud your perfect wording for capturing not only Bendys emotions but also his understanding towards cupheads intentions. BUT THEN AGAIN, BENDY IS A DRUKEN GREIF RIDDEN UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, HE COULD BE TOTALLY MISUNDERSTANDING MAGGOTS FROM CUPHEADS ROTTED CORPSE EATING AT HIM AS SOMHOW TIED TO CUPHEADS INACTION AS HE PROBABLY JERKS OFF TO THE SIGHT OF HIS CORPSE. Man this has so many layers its insane
“Eyes leaking down my cheeks” stupid fire way to realize hes crying
Tucking bits of cuphead into his pocket “like a love letter” INFESTS MY BRAIN WITH SO MANY MAGGOTS DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE CARNAGE YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME?
Shout out to all the religious words you used like “holy” “god” “cathedral”, it’s stupidly fitting for the setting and the tone with his guilt to feeling lust at this corpse. Good god.
Even though this response is long as fuck, i still do not think it is enough to express my gratitude and amazement at your writing and art. I haven’t even mentioned but the drawing you added, with the crooked smile and the non-responsive collapsed face of cuphead pulls at my heart strings so. Hopefully this response does not drown out your poem in this post
Thank you so much for writing and sharing this. It means so much to me your mind made this out of the small off-hand bits of comments on a possible cb!bendystraw. Like how cuphead died and how they had a two day Romeo and Juliet romance.
Before I even start, this was actually based off of a personal experience.
The yearning and the feeling of seeing them (or in my case, seeing them as someone else), even though its not actually them, that was something that happened to me.
(^ Note, this was also tweaked a bit because it was me mourning a friendship(?) I think anyways ((fellow acearo spectrum fella))
THE FACT THAT YOU EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT DRAWING MY SLOP MADE ME FUCKING LIKE. OH MY GOD. I was in class when I saw the notification and I kid you not, I screamed. (<- in gym, so it wasnt that bad for me to be screamin)
The amount of respect and adoration I have for you (and so many artists) is.. probably overwhelming if I were to actually put it in words.
I had actually rewrote it like four times after I woke up that morning before I even sent it to you, and then gave up and sent the original one made at the worst possible time for me to be writing. ToT
Imagery is something I actually usually struggle with, I have such a Imaginative mind but not the words to make it reality.
I adore Burtons works, (not much the man himself), and I've always leaned towards the gross/not very liked side of things.
(Example; I am a somewhat proud masochist ((pain is ..calming)), i adore teeth, bones and blood to the point of obsession..!)
Not so fun fact, again, this was based on a personal experience (somewhat) and, I see them everywhere, in everything. In the gross things, in the lovable things, in everything that reflects my eyes and into my mind.
I cannot see without, them whispering into my mind like a broken shard of glass in my heart. :D
I pull most things out of my ass at times, so when I saw the chance i threw that Romeo and Juliet reference and ran with it!!
Alive with death is something I actually pulled from my dearest, (not gonna tag em BUTTTTT he is my inspiration, I adore her.), from his mannerisms and how she speaks
I tend to observe people, (yet I have a terrible memory), so I kinda pulled that from myself because I write down the most useless things that are gold in my broken eyes.
I don't feel lust, but I'd feel like if I had lost my beloved and seen them, even for a second after death (I love my enby wife, not the same dude as my dearest) I'd have such mixed feelings that everything would blur and I wouldn't be able to tell what starts and what ends, love to lust.
"I'm like a onion" ahh thought process of mine lol.. now I dont really remember what I was going for there but.. yeah it was probably the apple crisps I had consumed before writing that possessed me to do that lmfao.
THIS WAS MY FAVORITE PART ACTUALLY!!!!! Thats how I actually refer to crying in my head most of the time!!! (<- I hate crying so i make up silly ways to keep my mind off of it)
:)
funniest thing about that actually, I'm hellenist (<- believer of Greek gods) hehe
NONONONO THANK YOU FOR EVEN TAKING TIME OUT OF YOUR DAY TO REPLY!!! DUDE IM STILL IN SHOCK. I. IM JUST. SO HAPPY YOU LIKE THIS. LIKE MAN I THOUGHT YOU WOULD PROBABLY READ IT, THINK "ooo poem, silly!" AND MOVE ON 🥹
But. Im so soo soooooo glad you liked it...
The drawing is still a wip but I'm working on it lmao :D
Soft launching this on here because I forgot to a while ago 🥹✌️
"STAINED IN MEMORIES AU"
An au cowrote by ME and my friend, @xx-buzzybee-xx !!!!
Art by me :)
---
Inspired by MOTM by Fly and Nort, and all of the super cool AUs on Tumblr
They say the curse doesn’t kill.
it lingers. it settles in your bones, your memory, your voice.
It warps and aches and stretches you thin until you’re something almost unrecognizable, something that hurts just to exist. but it doesn’t take you out. not really.
that’s what the medication is for.
Everyone takes it. everyone trusts it. carefully measured doses, clean bottles, neat little labels that promise stability.
Not a cure, never a cure, but enough. enough to keep you standing. enough to keep you smiling.
the Ink Machine hums somewhere behind it all. always running. always working. no one questions it anymore. Not that it matters.
this is a world that functions.
Performers still take the stage. crowds still cheer. the lights are still warm and bright and forgiving if you don’t look too closely at what’s flickering just outside them.
Heroes exist. symbols exist. hope exists, packaged neatly and handed out in doses.
WOOO THE B BROS INSPIRED SHOES ARE FINALLY DONNNNEE!!! WOOOO!!!
Working on these for a good while...
(Its still needs to dry mostly, but HEY THEYRE DONE! inspired by that one person on tiktok that made the cupbros inspired converses!)
Gonna wear these bad boys a lot hehehe..
(The uhhh ball on the tip of boris's shoe is his nose. And the dots on bendys shoe is supposed to be like his ink bubbling up during a blot attack :D Boris's was done as well jsut for symmetry lol)
WOOO THE B BROS INSPIRED SHOES ARE FINALLY DONNNNEE!!! WOOOO!!!
Working on these for a good while...
(Its still needs to dry mostly, but HEY THEYRE DONE! inspired by that one person on tiktok that made the cupbros inspired converses!)
Gonna wear these bad boys a lot hehehe..
(The uhhh ball on the tip of boris's shoe is his nose. And the dots on bendys shoe is supposed to be like his ink bubbling up during a blot attack :D Boris's was done as well jsut for symmetry lol)
OHHH AND MY BLUEINK FANFIC I WROTE FOR A FRIEND!!!
Kinda suggestive??
The forest did not sleep.
It breathed.
A slow, damp respiration through roots and rot, through the sighing needles of pine and the swollen bellies of moss.
The air clung low to the earth, thick with the scent of wet bark and something faintly metallic beneath it, like old rain that had tasted blood once and remembered.
The fire had long since dwindled into a red-eyed thing, its glow pulsing weakly against the trunks. Shadows gathered and stretched like quiet conspirators.
Nearby, Boris snored.
Not softly, not gently, but with a rasping, uneven thunder that seemed to rise from the ground itself, as though the forest had grown lungs and found them unpleasant. Cuphead lay curled beside him, still as a fallen branch, his breathing shallow but steady.
They slept.
They trusted sleep.
Mugman did not.
He stood at the edge of the camp, shoulders drawn tight beneath his scarf, gaze cutting through the dark like a blade that had not yet decided where to fall.
The firelight caught the fractures along his ceramic surface, thin veins of damage that gleamed faintly, betraying him even in stillness.
His hands trembled, though whether from cold or restraint was a question even he did not care to answer.
Behind him, something shifted.
Not a step. Not quite.
A sound like ink remembering it was once liquid.
“You’re going to snap if you keep standing like that.”
The voice slid through the dark, smooth and low, threaded with amusement that did not belong in a place like this.
Mugman did not turn.
“Go back to sleep.”
A pause.
Then, softer, closer, “Can’t.”
The scent reached him before the presence did. Not rot, not earth. Something stranger. Thick and sweet and wrong, like spilled ink warmed by skin. It curled into his senses, clung to the back of his throat.
Mugman’s grip tightened.
“Not my problem.”
A quiet laugh answered him, almost thoughtful.
“Everything seems to be your problem lately.”
That did it.
Mugman turned.
Bendy stood just beyond the dying light, his form half-claimed by shadow. The edges of him seemed uncertain, as though the dark had not quite decided where he ended. His grin was there, of course it was, but it was thinner now, less performance, more… curiosity.
His tail flicked once, twice, tracing idle shapes in the air.
“Thought you’d be watching the trees,” Bendy murmured. “Not me.”
“I’m watching for threats.”
The words came sharp.
Bendy tilted his head.
“And you’re facing the wrong direction?”
Something hot sparked in Mugman’s chest.
“You’re included.”
A flicker then, something quick behind Bendy’s eyes. Not fear. But interest sharpened, honed.
“Oh?” he said softly. “But you can’t hurt me.”
Mugman stepped forward.
“I can try.”
The fire cracked behind them, a brittle sound. Boris snorted in his sleep.
Bendy’s smile stretched, slow and deliberate.
“Mm,” he hummed. “You already did once, didn’t you?”
The memory struck like a thrown stone.
The gun. The shot. The recoil shuddering through his arms. The sight of ink tearing where something like a body should not tear.
Mugman’s breath hitched, just once.
Bendy saw it.
Of course he did.
“You looked so surprised,” Bendy continued, voice dipping lower, almost intimate. “Like you didn’t think you had it in you.”
Mugman moved before the thought finished forming.
His fist connected with something that felt wrong.
Not flesh. Not quite.
There was resistance, yes, but it gave in a way that made his stomach twist, like striking something that reshaped itself around the blow instead of receiving it.
Bendy’s head snapped to the side.
Ink spattered.
For a moment, silence.
Then Bendy laughed.
Not loudly. Not wildly.
Soft. Breathless.
“Oh, you definitely have it in you.”
Mugman hit him again.
This time Bendy caught the wrist.
His grip was cold.
Not the cold of night air, but something deeper, something that sank into the joints and lingered there.
“You’re going to wake them,” Bendy murmured.
“Good.”
But even as he said it, Mugman allowed himself to be pulled.
Step by step, drawn away from the camp, from the fire, from the fragile safety of sleeping bodies and shared ground.
The forest swallowed them.
Dark thickened. Sounds sharpened. The snoring faded into memory.
“Here,” Bendy said softly. “No one to stop you.”
Mugman tore his hand free and lunged.
This time they both moved.
The impact drove Bendy back against a tree, bark splintering beneath him. Mugman followed, relentless, hands grabbing, shoving, striking. Each hit landed with a dull, sickening sound, ink smearing across his knuckles, warm and slick.
Bendy did not stay still.
He twisted, slipped, reformed.
A hand at Mugman’s shoulder, then gone. A leg hooking behind his knee. A sudden shift of weight that sent them both crashing to the ground.
The forest floor was damp, cold seeping through fabric and into bone.
Mugman rolled, came up swinging.
Bendy met him halfway.
Their bodies collided, tangled, broke apart, collided again.
A punch to the ribs. A sharp crack that might have been bark or might have been something else. Mugman hissed, pain flaring bright and immediate.
Bendy’s grin flashed, too close.
“You feel that?” he whispered.
Mugman answered by driving his forehead forward.
Ceramic met ink.
The impact jarred him to his core, a ringing sensation splitting through his skull, but Bendy recoiled, a low, surprised sound escaping him.
They fell together.
This time Bendy landed on top.
Straddling.
Pinning.
His knees pressed into Mugman’s sides, hands catching his wrists and slamming them into the earth. The ground bit into Mugman’s back, stones and roots digging in, anchoring him.
Bendy leaned down.
Too close.
“You’re going to break yourself,” he murmured.
“Get off.”
“Make me.”
Mugman surged upward.
Their faces collided, breath tangling, anger burning so hot it blurred into something else.
And then.
Contact.
Not a strike.
Not quite.
Their mouths met with a force that was not gentle, not seeking, not anything resembling softness.
It was collision.
Teeth clashed. Breath stolen. Heat exchanged like a blow.
Bendy froze for half a heartbeat.
Mugman did not.
He bit.
Hard.
Bendy hissed, pulling back just enough for the sting to register, something dark and liquid slipping between them.
“You-” Bendy started.
Mugman surged again.
It was worse.
Or better.
There was no pause, no hesitation. Just impact and pressure and the sharp, dizzying sensation of being too close to someone you wanted to hurt and could not stop touching.
It burned.
It burned.
Bendy’s grip faltered.
Mugman twisted, throwing his weight sideways. They rolled, dirt and leaves grinding into skin, into ceramic, into ink.
Not just the wrongness of Bendy’s form beneath his hand, but something else. A faint tremor. A flicker of instability. Like the ink was not as steady as it pretended to be.
Like there was something there he could actually reach.
His grip tightened further.
Bendy’s smile cracked.
Just slightly.
“Go on,” he whispered.
Mugman hesitated.
A single, terrible second.
And he hated it.
Hated the doubt. Hated the pull. Hated the way Bendy looked at him like he already knew.
Mugman leaned down.
This time was slower.
No less violent.
But slower.
It dragged.
Breath against breath. Teeth grazing. The taste of something bitter and metallic and wrong filling his mouth.
His fingers still clenched at Bendy’s throat, still threatening, still holding control that felt like it could slip at any moment.
Bendy’s hand came up.
Not to push away.
To hold.
Fingers curling into Mugman’s sleeve, anchoring him there.
For a moment, neither moved.
The forest watched.
Then Mugman tore himself back like he’d been burned.
They stared at each other.
Chest to chest. Breath to breath.
Hate, raw and unfiltered, coiled tight between them.
Something else tangled in it.
Something neither of them named.
“You’re insane,” Mugman said hoarsely.
Bendy laughed, though it came thinner now.
“You started it.”
“I should finish it.”
“Then do it.”
Mugman didn’t move.
Neither did Bendy.
Seconds stretched.
Then snapped.
Mugman shoved him back and stood, stumbling once before catching himself. His hands shook worse now, ink smeared across them like evidence of something he didn’t want to understand.
Bendy stayed on the ground for a moment longer, watching.
Then he pushed himself up, slow, deliberate.
They did not look away from each other.
Not until distance forced it.
Mugman turned first.
Bendy lingered a heartbeat longer.
Then followed, silent as ink slipping back into shadow.
