#ligterell

[undeadmusings]

local robot just wants a rest

News title meme 

[inknorant-a]

/slides in own url for the murder meme/ uhhn anyone of any verse of your choice

@ligterell (The Projectionist)

He remembers the message pasted onto the wall on one of the floors. The path to the floor of the projectionist.

‘ I don’t want to work here anymore , , , ‘

Replaying that read in his head, just makes it hurt. Seeing sights of the lumping and limping stroke of the beast, demands his suffering. But what was he to do? If caught in sight, Henry would surely die. So getting him from behind would surely succeed.

Hidden in the MS, Henry waited for this projectionist to walk on by, and further away, until Henry slowly came out of the box, tip-toeing in the ink, closer, and closer to the other, before a sudden -

WHAM!

Henry could hear the shriek coming from the monstrous other as he fell forward, in pain from the smack of the pipe. That was when Henry’s voice echoed through the hallway as he went on top of him, grabbing cords from his back and wrapped it around his neck. If those were choking sounds he heard, then it was clearly working.

The both of them had gambled it out in the pathways, slamming on walls, rolling on the inky floor, trying to find peace in each other. Either Henry letting go, or Norman’s struggling coming to an end. As the speed and rampage slowed down, it came into Henry’s favor, as the other stumbled, while this screeching mess fell to his knees, nagging at Henry to stop, but Henry leans forward, fully covered in ink, and whispers, tiredly.

[ You’re free now...don’t fight..anymore...please...]

The beast, slowly lowering, giving a few more shrieks, before finally collapsing, Henry on top of him, still holding tight to those chords.

[ You don’t....have to work here.....any...more.... ]

Be free, Norman Polk.

[strikerbite-blog]

🐑 for henry?

Send “🐑” for my character to state a nickname they have for yours / make one up on the spot.

“Either Scribbles or Godhead. One’a the two. Got more respect from me.”

[spilledencre-archived-blog]

ligterell

The melting demon shifts in the growing ink pool surronding him. So far there’s a angel out of her mind and a certain wolf that he couldn’t tell wither or not was on anyone’s side. The only one’s that Bendy’s sure of are the Searchers and the other moaners. They weren’t on Alice’s side and sure weren’t staying neutral through all of this with attacking the one’s who get near their ink puddle. 

This one? He’s not sure. Knowing Alice tried to sometimes but the demon wasn’t sure wither or not this thing agreeded or stayed roaming the hallways. Things that he didn’t know about wouldn’t help the plans he’s making and the last thing he needs is a surprise. 

Hearing a projector play near by the melting mess heads over towards the direction wanting to see just what this thing is with his own ‘eyes’.

[drewgod]

(( would Joey be kind and let us punch him in the face ))

( backhanding this bastard across the studio and into oblivion goes beyond being kind )

[strikerbite-blog]

[ Norman ] Curiously and reluctantly pokes at.

   Edgar reached backward with one of his four arms to swat at the hand, having been caught off guard and not even had known who was prodding him. He didn’t much like to be bothered, especially. Especially when it was with unnecessary bothersome factors like being poked.

     When he saw it was one of the workers? Well, he didn’t seem all too enthused.

“Hey watch it! There ain’t nobody who likes to be poked, ya fleabag.”

[donvampire]

writing hands emoji w sammy or norman lmoa

 Send me “✍️” and I will try writing your muse

I don’t know sammy that well so i’ll try

The ink creature was slowly moving down the halls, these...disgusting halls. OH how Sammy could not stand to be in this place any longer. The creaking of the floors every time they took a step, the noises the other creatures made, Alice’s obsession with perfection, the Boris corpses. They want out. They want to be free. They want to remember what it’s like to be human again. A sound of foot steps. Sammy turned to listen. These steps....they don’t sound like Alice or the Projector...or..

Sammy grinned under his mask. A human.

Their ticket out of this inky hell.