"Now Guess What We Call A Two Dollar Coin In Canada."

Hudson stared at the keys on his typewriter, most stained by the ink on his fingertips. His eyes wandered to all the notes scattered on his desk, some words scribbled out or sentences left untended to. He picked one note up, an old story idea. The story itself wasn’t really special or original, so he decided to scrap it. It seems like nowadays that he scrapped everything.

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

He adjusted his desk lamp, the light setting an eerie yellow glow over his typewriter. He lay against his chair, staring, but his fingers pausing. His ears strained to hear the tapping in the walls. 

“Isn't it time you head home, Hudson?” A soft voice rang out.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Hudson snapped his head up, his eyes narrowing. “I still have half an hour, Charlie,” he said, a defensive edge in his voice. His voice lacked any real bite, more distant than defensive. His eyes focused on the wall. 

Charlie leaned against the doorframe of the department, her brown eyes soft with concern. She wore a navy blue mid-calf flared hemline. It was gaining its popularity in New York fashion. 

 “You don’t have to work so hard, you have the other writers to work with. Teamwork, remember?” 

Hudson snorted, rolling his eyes. “Mhm,” he muttered dismissively, letting his face settle in his hand, glaring at his notes. 

Charlie shook her head, letting out a quiet sigh. She walked over to his desk and was about to place her hand on his shoulder.

Hudson swatted the hand away. “I’m busy,” he snapped. He needed to hear the tapping sound. 

Charlie recoiled back slightly, looking hurt. She then folded her arms and frowned at him till he looked up.

“Don’t you have a date to get to?” Hudson asked flatly, a brow raising.

Charlie clutched her purse, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “I do…but I just wanted to check up on you. Jack’s worried about you and so am I. You haven’t been sleeping, eating or even focusing properly-”

Hudson cut her off, shushing her, “Sh! Did you hear that?” His brown eyes darted to the walls and the ceiling that surrounded them. He pushed himself away from his desk and stood up from his seat, his full attention on the wall. 

Charlie sighed, looking dispirited. She ran a hand down her face, inhaling sharply. “This only proves my point.”  Her eyes darkened at him.

Hudson’s only response was a grunt, his back still turned on Charlie as he scanned the wall. He seemed undaunted by Charlie’s demeanor. 

how long have you been into EPIC :3?

Hmmm, I'd say two years now! :3

I got into it when I heard the song "Just A Man"!

And then I decided to read more on Greek mythlogy!

THIS IS BEAUTIFUL THANK YOU AHHHHH I LOVE THIS THIS IS AMAZING

May I please hug Melody?

Sure, although Melody isn't the biggest fan of touch.

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

Hey! Been a while since I’ve been active. How r u doing? :3

I'm doing okay! How are you? :D

-Hudson nodded, amusement sparkling in his dark brown eyes-

"I don't know what to say, but....THANK YOU!" -He laughed in relief. Feeling so darn grateful that Jack didn't think he lost his wits. He ignored the painful bruise that he had and rushed forward, giving Jack a big hug-

"I mean, I'd hate to drag you two into my mess, but jeez, thank you Jack. Thank you for being a friend." -The young Canadian lad had tears streaming down his face-

-Storms into the music room and randomly sits down on the stage, tainted in ink. Takes notice of Jack and waves- "Hey Mister Fain."

(Decided to write the first thing that came to mind don't mind meh :'> )

Jack was tuning his violin when Hudson stormed in, and looked up curiously.

“Oh? Heya, Hudson! Everythin’ alright? I don’t see ya in here often, much less… well, in this state.”

how would Hudson feel if someone other than Bill and Louise simped for him..? :3

He would feel flattered deep down, but also very confused.

Hudson, ever since being a cadet, already thinks he's an ass hole. Even before the ink! (His confidence from when he was ten got stripped bare)

Despite his insults and spats, he's lonely, but doesn't believe he's worthy... so doesn't reach out

I'm curious if you have a person in mind anon 🤔

henlo :3

how is the jimmy doing?

Jimster is doing fine and mighty!

Might have to redesign him :3

Hudson's opinion on Sammy?

Hudson (when hired) stays clear of Sammy as his rude remarks and harsh demeanour always made him tick inside. However, using his filter, he would avoid him.

When he goes insane, he loses that filter and spits retorts and insults of his own. Spitting at the composer if he ever crosses a line with him or a love one.

Sammy was also a witness to Hudson's tournament by Joey and was also responsible for hiding his body. So, when Hudson comes back as a ghost, he is more than just pissed.

In the crossover au I have with @creationandcalamityau , she has an OC named Charlie (who is Sammy's assistant), he's very protective of Charlie and is always making threats at Sammy to keep in line. He's worried that Sammy may cause harm to Charlie (who is like a sister to him). He wants so badly to protect Charlie, because he knows what Sammy is capable of. But sometimes his actions out of loyalty will end up hurting Charlie, which he hates.

In the crossover I have with @thelocalmoth , Hudson despises Sammy and has gotten into fights with him. However, he *tries* to restrain himself from talking bad of Lawrence because he doesn't want to make Jack upset as he looks up to Jack and sees him as a father figure. Hudson was once forced into drinking ink because of Sammy twice. He only told Jack the first time, but never the second time because he cared too much.

He was aware of Jack's strong friendship and didn't want to hurt Jack, even in his twisted insane way, which led to his downfall and ended up getting sicker with ink poison.

He loves way too much, which was kind of what killed him.