Batim - Blog Posts
Twisted Alice in my AU is a bitch and I love that.
Meet some of my BATIM ocs!
Paul Becker: he works as an engineer and Technic for GENT. He is 34, 5'9, Canadian/Japanese. He is not out of the closet yet and protects himself by making sarcastic jokes and mean remarks. He was born in Toronto before he packed his bags and headed for New York. He was killed when a flood happened in the lower levels of the studio.
2. Darcy Mayflower: she works as one of the secretaries for Mister Drew. She is 24, 5'4, and American. She is bisexual and transgender (M to F). She's chatty, good spirited, but can be dishonest and prone to gossip. She was born in Texas. She died due to ink poison.
3. Trevor Covens: he works as another engineer for GENT. He is 21, 5'8, American/Australian. He is straight and maybe trans? (Idk yet). He's argumentative, stubborn and quick to fight. He was born in Las Vegas. He died due to a gunshot wound in the chest. He was also the one that Hudson had punched in the nose.
4. "Val" Valentine O'Neil: She works in the Writing Department. She is 19 1/2, 5'7, Irish/Spanish. She is fluent in English, Spanish, and German. Val used to have an Irish accent, but she got tired of the confused looks and just got rid of it (trading it for an American accent). She's a lesbian and goes by she/they. She is quiet, spooky and quick-witted. She was born in Cork, Ireland and came to America to visit her friends. She escaped the studio, but had gotten into a car accident a few months after.
And since I know I promised you guys a Jack:
Please like this or reblog! (Who knows maybe I'll make more comics :O)
I worked really hard on it ^ ^u
He stared at the typewriter.
"I can't write." Said the ghost.
"I can't laugh." Said the ghost.
"I can't fight." Said the ghost.
"I can't win." Said the ghost.
"I can only cry." Said the ghost.
Roleplayers! Feel free to rp here! Just note that this takes place when the studio goes to shit.
Uh, guys? Could you give Constance a little room?
Brant (left, Constance (middle) and Bill (right) from The Lost Ones BATIM novel, but in my au.
Fun facts:
I purposely made Brant to have a bit of a black eye, reddened nose and band aid because as someone who works for the press, you got to be tough in order to deal with people. Especially violent people.
Constance in my AU, is Latino! She's also a feminist and dreams of being a chemist.
If Buddy from my au ever met Bill...Buddy would turn into a real jerk. Bill has almost everything Buddy doesn't! Causing Buddy to get a little (ok, a lot) annoyed.
Meet Buddy Lewek from my au!
Unlike Buddy from DCTL, my Buddy has...a breaking point :'3
Really happy how he turned out.
Susie and Norman didn't meet until adulthood, but I can image them being friends in childhood. Anyway, I spent a lot of time on this...SO PLEASE LIKE IT!!!
OMGOMG WRITING REQUESTS—
You know me, so I feel as if we can already predict my request…
How about either Jack & Sammy or Jack & Norman? No pressure ofc, I just love them both :3
Here ya go! (Lol I knew you meant drawing request)
Hope you like it!
Also shh..Norman shut it.
VOTE PEOPLE AND PLEASE REBLOG THIS.
Still taking BATIM or BATDR drawing requests or asks.
SO.
I'm taking drawing requests and asks for my Batim au Dead And Buried and Hudson. Feel free to interact if you want. I don't bite!
If you don't know what to request, here's an idea:
Give me two characters from BATIM, you would like to see them interacting.
I'm bored.
Like....really bored.
DRAWING REQUESTS ARE FOR BATIM/BATDR PLEASE.
Where's my face?
Hey everyone! Sorry I haven't been posting my own stuff in some time and big apologies for those I'm rping with currently as I try to rb and rp, but I've been pretty busy.
Lately, I haven't been feeling great (mentally). I'll try to keep posting and don't worry I'll recover. Yeah, just not feeling great. I'm really sorry, please understand.
Also, remember how Hudson is my Sona for BATIM? The art that I draw for him usually expresses what I've been currently feeling. Just a fact I guess.
Happy Thanksgiving and if you don't celebrate that, happy Monday!
Norman came home today! He's made a fine recovery!
Harriet always loved taking pictures, special occasions or not.
I LOVE IT SO MUCH THANK YOU!! Hudson looks great and oh I love Sally so much!! You got the colours just right! AHHHH-
May..may I hug Sally? :O SHE LOOKS AMAZING
Huuugss :>
Sorry if the hair looks terrible, I’m not the best at drawing different types and styles of hairs 😭😭😭😭😭😭
Why? Why leave me with all of this?
A badly drawn doodle of Hudson and Jack from @thelocalmoth 's au
Yoo, I just noticed the drawing requests in your desc. Any chance you have a Jack design? I collect them, y’know. If you couldn’t tell already.
Here is Jack from my AU! I'm happy with his design, just not how I drew him today (he looks a little wonky). His hair is based off a 20's haircut for men, while his suit comes from the early 1900's!
A gift for @ask-thelyricist !!
Btw I used their Jack from their BATIM AU, so this lovely Jack DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. CREDIT TO THEM!!!
The warning.
Dear, Hudson [REDACTED]
I appreciate you voicing your concerns. Especially the “noise” coming from the vents. I have made sure to tell Mister Franks to check it out. But, please understand that your fellow peers are beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable when you go on about “something in the walls” or “something watching you from the shadows”. Joey Drew Studios is supposed to be a healthy work environment and will terminate anything that gets in the way of that. It will also terminate anything that gets in the way of working general. Honestly, Hudson, I’m absolutely shocked at your recent behaviour. You’re usually a hard worker and get scripts done on time, but in these past weeks, I see that you’re really lacking in that. I understand you've had a little bit of trouble adjusting before, when you first got hired. Feeling homesick is valid when you move to a different place. Especially when it’s a different country. But it isn’t homesickness, is it?
Your fellow peers are now hesitant when ordered to work with you. Especially when that incident you caused was…unexpected and violent. You're lucky no one pressed charges on you. I really hope you’ve learned to control your temper during the time you were temporarily suspended from work.
I don’t know what’s going on in your personal life, but your ranting? Your paranoia? It will not be tolerated here in the studio. Since you have proven to be a diligent worker in the past, Mister Drew and I agreed that you won’t be fired.
However, understand that this letter is a warning for you to keep your behaviour in check or else you will be terminated. If you struggle with keeping in check, there are plenty of medical clinics and institutions in your area that will provide help.
And Hudson? Don’t talk about the whole “something in the walls”. Ever.
You have been warned. If you have any questions about this letter or anything related to this, please ask me during break. Yours truly, The director of the Writing Department
Hmm unsure if this is a weird ask or not but what do you ship in batim/dr (don’t worry I’m not gonna start a shipping war, I’m more or less normal when it comes to ships, if I don’t like something I won’t interact, I’m just interested in what ships other people enjoy and if so how they write the ship. :P)
Hmmm in my au, Norman x Susie is one of the main ships. I also like Henry x Sammy or Henry x Joey. If you're curious about the other ships in my au, you can just look at the Dead And Buried Cast.
I like a lot of ships and I can see why people vibe with certain ones, such as: Norman x Sammy or Alice x Allison, etc. Yeah ..uh XD I can vibe with a lot of them and if I made a list..it would be...too long.
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
So, you asked if you could hug Sally, is the character in your pinned post the one you want me to use for that? I’m drawing it out, but I just want to make sure I use the correct character :]
You may use the one in the intro or this one!
It is up to you! EITHER WAY I GET TO HUG SALLY SO YAYYYYYYYYY
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
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
"Hello there! I'm Hudson. How can I help?"
I work in the writers department, though writing isn't my only interest. I also like volunteering to voice act and draw in my free time. I'm the only Canadian in the writers department (that I know of). I enjoy listening to Mister Fain's and Mister Lawrence's music. It helps take my mind off of those blasted GENT pipes.
(Hudson doesn't have an ink form when the studio goes to shit, only a ghost form)
(Untilted's Note: Hudson is my BATIM Sona that I use when I'm role playing. As a Sona, he represents me! However, there are a few things that don't represent me: He's 18. I'm not 18 yet. He's 5'5. I wish I was that tall, but no. Hudson isn't my real name, but I'm absolutely okay if you call me that regardless if you're role playing. I just wanted to let you all know. )
(Feel free role play with my BATIM Sona! He and I don't bite. HOWEVER, if you say anything nasty, you will be ignored or blocked. If you've seen my intro, you know what I don't tolerate. You can catch Hudson interacting in BATIM ask blogs, such as:
@ask-thelyricist
@asknorman-polk
@asksamuellawrence
and probably more! (Btw please check out these guys, they're pretty cool ^ ^. I feel like I should mention this, Hudson's tag is: Writer Hudson. I know. SO original XD.)
