Shipping Cesspool

'With LittleDemon55' you silly Q<Q❤️ I love you so much!

Alright, hello, Sandy Cracks! >:'v

Hello, Mr. Jack Sanderson ;) 

Question for all of the people who write on mobile (specifically iPhone) Can you not update stories/add chapters on mobile? I haven’t been able to find the option, but maybe I’m not looking in the right place?

Guess who’s back, back again? Sorry for the lack of updates, and no I’m not dead. Just lost motivation for a bit and have been busy with life. For you lovely people who are still here, I cannot guarantee that any of my stories will be updated, but who knows.

(Part 2)
          
          Henry recognized it. Fear and rejection and abandonment and loathing and everything. So, so much of everything that his legs went weak and he collapsed to his knees. They were destroying each other. Playing the same pointless game until time ran out and they didn’t have to think anymore. Henry couldn’t think, so he acted. The ink demon fought him at first, clawing and biting before settling into the newness of their reality. They spent many nights together, away from the scornful eye of Wilson and the studio. Learning each curve and dip, pressure and contact, how the other responded to certain stimuli. Experimenting in a way that had never been allowed before. The Ink Demon was always quiet the morning after, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking somewhere unseen. A can of soup and a soft appreciative murmur of “You were perfect last night,” never failed to earn a purr and a smile. Their smile. Soft and warm and sad, but pleased. The Ink Demon didn’t talk about it, and Henry didn’t make him. Maybe… maybe things would be okay.

(This was written by Lunatic_Loser, I'm just posting it here so it won't cease to exist)
          
          When the Ink Demon gained a voice, it was harder for Henry to ignore him. The same went for the demon. He found himself drawn to his creators cell in Wilson’s prison, leering down at him through the walls and ceilings. He whispered into Henry’s mind until he got bored and set the man free. Henry’s creative chaos was part of his studio now. Belonged to it. Owned by it. By him. One collaboration against Wilson turned into many, the mocking and jeering insults between them becoming comfortable and second nature as they lapsed into an addictive rhythm. Henry would run, the Ink Demon would chase. They’d switch roles and do it again and again. They really were the perfect match, knowing just how to pry at the other’s weaknesses and bring him to his knees. The creators cool facade was casual and businesslike, until one fateful night, his opponent bruised and bloodied beneath him, he finally cracked. The ink demon cackled, ever cruel and unrelenting as he forced the blade back into his tormentor’s hand. “Finish me,” he demanded with a grin. “We both know your darkest desire~” His voice was raspy as pain trickled through his sharpened grin. 

Hello there :3 If this message ever reaches you: I hope you have a good day

Are you alive? 

Please tell me you're still updating Henry and the beast?