HUGZZZZZ >:DDD

How does pinterest see you?

search up fashion, pantone, mood, and food and save the first picture that comes up!

I don't know too much about the outfit, but everything else is on point 😭 ✋🏼

Heyyy! Mod of @ask-thelyricist here :3

If you wanna, I’m open to rp; ‘not like my blog’s getting that much activity anyways.

(I would sent this as an anon as Jack but…..uhm…..I can’t lmao)

.....YES PLEASE!! Lol, I'm still kind of new to rping on Tumblr, but yeah! Sounds great. Thank you :3 Just let me know when you would like to rp ^ ^

How Could You?

“Mister Lawrence?”

I turned around, only to be met with my apprentice. He shuffled awkwardly, half of him hiding beneath the door. I then stared hard at my desk, letting out a sigh. Without meaning to, I dropped my book, music sheets spilling onto the floor. The yellowing papers swept up dust on the floorboards, I only narrowed my eyes at this. “What do you want, Johnny?” I muttered, kicking off my chair to retrieve the papers. I heard him slowly cracking my office door wide open and taking a few steps in.  Bending down, my hands furiously grabbed the scattered papers. I didn’t look at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but the band is waiting for you.” He said meekly. His British accent caught me off guard. I stood up, carelessly plopping the bundle of papers on my desk. I turned to him, an eyebrow raised. Today, he was dressed in a pale blue vest, buttoned up white collar shirt and brown slacks. I groaned, “Can’t they just warm up right now?” He hesitated, before he spoke, “They’ve been doing that, but..they’re getting impatient.” He nervously blew his light chestnut hair out of his face. I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to yell. “Then tell them to wait.” I growled. Johnny frowned, avoiding eye contact with me. In a small voice he responded, “You said that…two hours ago.” Silence. 

I stormed through the vacant hallways, not even waiting for Johnny. Posters were plastered every four feet it seemed. With their cartoonish style, they all stared at me and smiled. This only fed my annoyance. The lights above me flickered and buzzed, making my shadow grow long behind me.

 God, my head hurts. Even though my feet were slamming down on the creaky wooden boards, I could hear Johnny jogging after me. “Mister Lawrence, wait up! I’m sure we could make a compromise with the band, maybe even-” “ENOUGH.” I barked at him. Irritation makes a nest inside my brain. Though, deep down, I do feel a little guilty. Trying to simmer down, I cleared my throat. “Johnny, is your brother already in his booth?” I asked, making a sharp left turn.  He hurried after, finally keeping up with my pace. “Last time I checked, yeah. Though, he was pretty mad that you didn’t show up.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Honestly, it felt like without me, the whole god damn music department would explode. “Tch-well, he better be there.” I huffed. 

Before Johnny could answer, I halted only to be met with a chattering river of musicians flooding out of the music department. Baffled, I yelled at one of the passing tuba players, Rick. “Mister Hoffleman! Where the hell are you-” With dark glaring green eyes, the middle aged man snapped at me, “Shut yer yap, Lawrence! It’s been two months of the same shit ya make us go through. Well, we’re tired of it.” He growled at me, his southern accent lacing his words. I recoiled back, almost stumbling into Johnny! If Johnny apologized, I couldn’t hear it. Not when my blood was roaring in my ears. I watched Rick stomp away, his brown suit jacket hanging from his shoulder.  I didn’t even notice that my jaw was hanging wide open, until Johnny quietly mentioned it to me.  I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t command them to stay. I just stood there, and while I did, lots of folks hissed complaints and glares at me when they passed by. Is this what it feels like? To be powerless? I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I’ve felt this before. When he left.

Turns out, Norman was still in his booth, packing up his projector. Even though the booth was mostly consumed by lingering shadows, we could hear him shuffling around.  I stared up at him, only for him to swing around and glare from above.  “Oh great, the all mighty composer finally arrived.” He said flatly, his dark grey eyes narrowing. With a grunt, he placed the metal projector on a rusted steel cart. “Polk, what happened?” I yelled, still looking up at the booth.  The shadows answered with another grunt, “Whaddya mean what happened, Lawrence? They’re fed up.” A pause. When I didn’t answer, he continued, “Look, I dunno what you’ve been doin these past months, but Jesus, can’t ya just compose the band ON TIME??  Some days, the doors are locked and no one can get in. Why? ‘Cause ya keep forgettin to unlock ‘em. Meaning WE can’t do what we need to do.” I felt my stomach tightened while my fists were clenched. “Can’t you just get Franks to unlock the damn door?” I retorted hotly. “Kid keeps forgettin his keys.” He replied with a monotone voice. I let out an exasperated sigh, feeling my nerves being shot left and right. Norman said nothing else and with that I turned around. I  watched Johnny struggling to gather all the music stands. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to him and helped him put them away in the storage room.  I didn’t say anything. Despite how clumsy or frantic this kid is, I didn’t hate him. He’s a good apprentice.

 Well, decent anyway. 

After stacking up the chairs and cautiously putting instruments in their cases, we were done. During that whole time, I didn’t mutter a word. I was too absorbed in my thoughts.  Was working with Mister Drew on his project really making me digress  from what needs to be done? Surely, I could balance them both. Right? No. I couldn’t and today proved that. Bitter disappointment felt like a knife in my gut, wedging itself further and further in.  I felt something sting my eyes, rubbing them. Jesus, was I so powerless that I was having a stupid CRYING FIT?! I muttered something to myself, when suddenly, I felt a gentle hand clamped on my shoulder. “It’s okay to cry, Mister Lawrence! It’s..it’s been a tough day, but..there’s always tomorrow!” Johnny exclaimed, his eyes brightening.  I stared at him for a moment, actually looking at him. His face looked similar to Normans, same nose, and structure.  Light chestnut hair with streaks of dark brown while his eyes..well. One was dark grey, like Norman, but his other eye was a dark auburn.  Wasn’t that called.. Heterochromia? I think that's what it's called.

Anyhow, he just smiled at me sympathetically.  Without thinking, I smiled back at him.  “I..suppose you’re right.” I said, nodding curtly. He slipped his hand off my shoulder and walked over to the piano. “So, about that music sheet you sent me home with yesterday, I practiced it and I think I got it?” He smiled, sitting down on the chair and straightening his composure.  I was stunned. He practiced it? Hell, I didn’t even tell him to do that. Though, of course, I was skeptical.  I pulled up a stool and gestured for him to start. He cracked his fingers, staring down at the keys and gave it his all. There were a few slip ups, but I was impressed at how beautiful the melody was. And how Johnny was so focused on the piece. When he was done, he paused, before hesitantly turning his head to look at me.  I stood up from my wooden stool and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Good work.” I praised, smiling at him slightly. 

I swear his eyes lit like bright stars. I was proud of him. Even though I failed the band, I didn’t fail him.  Until…I did. 

It’s been a few months since that moment. 

I looked at my shaking right hand, a smoking pistol was tightly in my grasp. 

Oh Johnny. I’m so sorry.

I’m 

      So

               Sorry

Gift for @skxllbxnny as this is their Henry!

I love their Batim ask blog and admire it so much! Thank you so much for liking my work, Skxll! I have no idea why you do or even pay attention to Hudson, but I thank you endlessly for that!

I love your Norman and Henry design/ship so much! Your Bendy design is adorable and I just want to say: YOU ARE FREAKING AWESOME WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SO COOL??!!

I WANT TO HUG YOU UNTIL YOU CANNOT BREATHE.

Then pull out the defibrillator when that happens :3

How would Hudson feel about an aquarium date with Ray? :3

I’ve heard Ray likes the stingrays

Hudson would feel a little uneasy, due to all the families that are probably there, screaming and crowding.

 However, he would focus on trying to relax and even admiring the fish. He would definitely like lionfish and any sea worm looking thing. He would also probably pull Ray into a quiet spot and steal kisses from him because why not :3

Hello,

I hope you’re all doing well. 🌿

I need your help to share my family's story and raise awareness about our struggle. Every voice counts, and your support means the world. 🙏

💬 Please reblog my pinned post or, if you're able, consider donating just $5—it could be life-changing for those facing unimaginable hardship.

Your kindness and solidarity make a real difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍✨

@derawi1994

Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

And stop spamming the hell out of me. I'm really getting sick and tired of this.

The price you paid.

The white static made it hard to see what was what.

 He could see his own  breath like a foggy mist while his feet and arms begged for him to stop crawling through the thick snow.  His nose caught in the smell of burnt metal and vulgar smoke. 

Warm blood poured down as his left eye squinted and winced. 

He touched his forehead only to see a warm sticky red trickle down his fingers. His head lolled to the side, before he regained his focus and continued to pull himself through the snow. 

 Hudson was already feeling lightheaded, but also felt  like the world was slightly slanted.

 Either way, it just didn’t feel right.

 “How long has it been since I left the site of the crash? Have I just been going in circles? Those trees look familiar,”  Thoughts creeped through his  mind as he was too weak to push them away. They ate his determination and hope like bugs, while only emptiness stayed.

 Everything hurts. My  mind feels like someone swung a hammer at my head, He thought. 

However, he thought about Felix, his co-pilot. Poor Felix waited at the site of the plane crash, his torso stuck under heavy metal and burnt steel. 

What makes it even worse, the whole plane ride, all Felix talked about was how excited he was for his and his fiancé's wedding. How they were going to have it at a large beautiful church. Inside the church would be decorated with white flower petals. How they ordered custom golden rings for each other made specifically in Belgium. How beautiful his fiancé would look in her wedding gown. 

Hudson’s stomach lurched at the thought of how Felix’s face twisted in pain when he tried to free his legs from under the wreckage. At how Felix had such calmness in his grey  eyes when he looked up at him. He trusts me. He respects me. 

The wind now sounded like a woman’s high pitch scream. Too much. It’s all just too much. His arms gave out and half of his  face became buried in snow. 

 He could see crimson seeping into the pure white. 

He tried to get up, but his arms gave out.

 He could barely feel the snow cushioning his face. He wanted to call out for help, but he stayed silent. He hardly knew  where he’d crashed. 

Calling out into unknown territory could lead to fatality.

 He wasn’t sure if any enemy officers were around and he didn't want to learn that the hard way. 

His  pale blue winter uniform is soaked. He should’ve worn his pilot suit all together, but due to the rush he was in he had little time to put it on.

 With all the strength Hudson mustered, he army crawled through the snow and pushed ahead. 

It was still bright outside, but he was worried that soon the sky would  be casted into a deep darkness.

 He noticed that the gash on his head was still bleeding heavily and  the tips of his fingers were making his body scream in pain. Shards of glass from a broken windshield embedded into skin. 

 Squinting his brown eyes, he could see that they were an ugly white at the tips of his fingers. 

Frostbite. 

He shivered as he could hear his teeth clattering against each other. 

He wearily looked up where he was faced with a black raven sitting on an overhanging branch. Its talons hooked the branch and its jet black feathers looked glossy in its white surroundings. It tilted its head at Hudson and squawked.

 Hudson heard a twig snap behind him, but he was too frozen to roll over and see. 

The raven squawked again and flapped its wings around frantically before it took off at the drop of a hat.

 It flew away and Hudson watched it in burning envy.

 Even the bird has places to be, He thought with bitterness. He was alone with his thoughts. 

His cold wretched thoughts. 

He glared ahead, before he rested his head on his arm, his legs feeling consumed by the cold. 

For all his life, he had just been debating, comparing and surviving. 

 Reality hit him hard and pulled him under. 

He would never have a chance to say those important words to Bill. 

His family was scattered from the war.

Some of his  friends were still yowling and fighting in the trenches, others fighting in the skies being shot at like birds, and more were dying in hospital beds, wounded beyond repair.

While only a rare few were stuck in New York, cheering him on.

Yet here he was: failing. 

All the letters he had gotten from Jack. All the sweet words from a kind man who had been never, but good to him, would mean nothing soon. The man who he looked up to…the man he had hoped to return the kindness…he would never see again. 

His heart lurched at that. 

And what about Charlie and Cassidy?

Charlie had seen him off when he was on leave. Her hug was powerful even when she cried. He remembered how she promised to write, promised to cheer him on and tell his story.

Cassidy on the other hand now had two kids and was married to Robert. Happy and blessed. 

He was so proud of her and happy.

He was an uncle.

Was.

But his thoughts turned to a different direction. 

He wouldn’t even get discharged honorably, gaining peaceful retirement. Or even recognition for his hard work. 

His body might be lost.

As well as his name in the archives. 

People would forget him.

The cold had reached to his torso now, gripping tightly around his organs while his rib cage was too feeble to protect.  

The bruises and cuts were starting to get to him as the pain he had repressed was now pulsing through him. He could feel the shards of glass poking at tissue and muscle, some even drilling deeper. 

His eyes watered, blurring his vision. His chest felt heavy and his lungs clinging onto his unstable breathing.

 Hudsons head rolled off his arm and was now laid dipped in the snow. 

He glared up at the grey sky with a blurred vision. 

Blood pooled the ground below him while the cold was now to his shoulders, biting through his uniform as it began to stab through his skin. Before numbing it. 

The world slowly grew dark in Hudson's half-lidded eyes. The pilot's breathing grew shallow and slow.

He coughed, tasting blood and bitter soot. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, water streamed down his bloodied and soot tainted face. 

“I tried. I really did.” 

“But I can’t get up.” 

Blood, soot, cold, glass, smoke and screams.

Oh such wonderful things.

So... For no reason at all, I was wondering what would be your advice towards anyone who wanted to write something about Hudson? Like what's his general personality, particularly when he first gets hired to the studio and when he's not full of ink poisoning, yet- >w>

What you have to understand about Hudson during this time:

Nationality: Canadian <- we know this. However, did you know that he was born in Toronto and moved to Quebec City? Hudson has French roots as well (due to his Mother).

When moving to New York, he has an overwhelming sense of being an outsider. He is prone to homesickness (homesick), but tries to always push it aside (self-assured). This whole ordeal of moving leaves him very skittish and paranoid.

Hudson's three types of mindset:

"I can also do/be better! I always need to improve. This work needs to be better."

"People are out to get me. Keep your guard up."

"I have to prove my worth and prove people wrong."

Age when hired: 17

Over all personality:

Polite and order taker (meaning he'll take tasks right away) <- these traits being perfected when he was a cadet (a few months before he was hired.) He is very apologetic and is prone to believing that he's in the wrong.

Creative, witty and has a sense of humour. Hudson is eager to share ideas with people and work as a team to get creative projects done. He uses his wits to encourage people, but also to protect himself. His humour is usually dry and Wistfully telling stories to people.

Calculating, paranoid and overwhelmed. He is calculating due to being paranoid and can get overwhelmed by insecurity and work. Self assurance is always forced.

The things that stay consistent is:

Hudson's never ending-need to please and impress his father (David Hendriks) and his desperation to be acknowledged by his father.

Insecurity about his height and overall appearance. He knows he doesn't look his age and is worried he might not look mature enough to be a writer, and not a simple delivery boy.

EVERYONE LOOK AT WHAT MY MOOT DREW!!!

Poor Grant :(

Death and Taxes

Don't you hate it when you hallucinate your boss being a shadow demon behind you? yeah me too, Grant, me too.

Yeah Idk what this was, but I wanted to draw Grant Cohen again!

Good luck with your audition! You’re gonna be awesome!

Thank you!! I'm auditioning for the role of a Jock (who is an asshole).

I'm really nervous XD