"I Think She Took My Hat Or Something Too!"

Got bored so I drew:

@eeveelikessoda 's batim oc: Olivia C and @yourfavouriteboyrider

I'm not happy with how I drew Olivia, so one day I'll try and draw her again.

I don't know. You guys seem cool :)

Cards.

Comic for @cupidstarz (Melody is NOT my oc, but theirs.)

And so:

I tried my best. Some words might be blocked out while it's all just shitty pictures due to my crappy camera (very sorry). This comic wasn't scripted well so my apologies. I really just wanted to make a story with these characters and yeah. I spent fucking two weeks on this so PLEASE read it when you get the chance.

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.

He's just as confused as you, Todd.

First panel: Jesus, why would anyone want to date such an ugly and short guy like you?

Second panel (Hudson answers): Ask my five exes and very dead fiancee that.

An older lady walks right into the break room, clutching a photo album as she has an excited smile on her face. She searches the room, scanning each face. She looks a little disappointed, but suddenly brightens.

@asknorman-polk @art-by-stella @ask-thelyricist

"You must all work with my son! How delightful, I was hoping to share these with him, but you all must see too!" She said, her Quebec accent is clear.

"Aren't these such a treasure?"

@ask-sammy-lawrences-assistant "Oh my, mon cher! Charlie? What a wonderful surprise!! I was just talking to your mère on the phone!! Oh you must see these too! You remember meeting him during these times!!"

She opens the photo album with enthusiasm:

"Oh he always hated wearing that sailor's blouse! Complaining all the time! Instead, he insisted on always wearing his scout uniform!!"

"You may all call me Cathy, by the way."

One.

Eyes are like the windows to the mind.

Everything is dark under here.

My eyes hurt so much. So much that I can't even feel them.

My eyelids feel weird. I'm not sure how to describe it.

Something feels hollow.

My lungs hurt as I hack up, the dust already in my lungs. My back laying on something soft, but overwhelming.

It smells like earth in here, but just dry and forgotten about.

I need to get out.

I try getting up, but my spine lets out a pained protest, my head already hitting something hard. I lay back down, still coughing.

The coughing feels like someone's cutting up my throat.

My hand blindly reaches out in front of me, hitting what feels like wood. My fingers dig into the palm of my hand and hit above, dust spraying down on me once again.

I have to ignore it. I have to get out.

Something's trickling down my face, warm and unwelcoming. It thickly smells like iron.

No time. Air's too tight.

I get my hands above and try pushing up, more dust falling on me.

My hands are now slamming against it, over and over.

I need to get out.

Splinters are already digging into my skin, stabbing in.

I can't stop.

It's so hard to breathe.

Blood is beginning to trickle down my wrists and bruises are swelling up on my knuckles.

I need to see. I need to see. I need to see.

Where are my eyes?

Unfinished story :P

Sometimes I think I can still hear it.

The sound of ink dripping off the walls and vanishing into those dark puddles. The sound of metal cogs grinding against one another. The sound of creaking floorboards. 

But I know it isn’t real. Of course it isn’t.

It’s day five now. Five days ago I was tearing up at the floorboards above and now?

I can see the light that shines from outside. I can see people’s faces. I can see the warmest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. A familiar pretty face.

Oh how I missed that face. It’s nice to be able to see it again, don’t get me wrong. 

But sometimes, I swear I can see something creeping up on me in the corner of my eye. Always watching, but never drawing near. 

I think it’s worth mentioning I read his book.

The Illusion Of Living? That memoir of Joey Drew?

Bullshit, I tell you. But then…..it definitely gives some folks perspective.

The whole philosophy seemed to belong in that inky nightmare, making itself fit right at home there. But now reading it, it just seems ... .oh what’s the word…ridiculous? 

It’s ridiculous! Hogwash! But so very real. 

I’m real. Well, the sweetheart tells me that anyway.

It’s all still shocking though. All those years trapped in the studio…What am I now? 29? Older? Probably? It’s all fuzzy really. Maybe it’s not even important. 

I got a new fresh start. Sharing a house with Henry and his wife, Linda. Me and the sweetheart are in the second guest room upstairs.

It’s a nice house. Tidy, just how Linda likes it. But it feels so…off. By now, I’m used to those filthy machines and gadgets. 

Henry is nice enough to let me use the sun room to write my articles. Yep, articles.

I work for the paper now as mostly an editor, but still, it’s something. I can work from the house, though Linda thinks it would be a nice idea for me to go outside and get a sense of normalcy.

I respect Linda. She’s smart, wistful and chipper. A loyal one to Henry too. 

But doesn’t she realise that nothing is normal for us anymore? 

Going to work in person would just bring me more tension. And from what I’ve been told, I’m full of it. Still, yes, I do sometimes visit the office. Just to please the sweetheart.

But it’s not always for me. Those stares. Those whispers. Those tiny cautious questions. 

Oh do I wish I could avoid them. 

I sort of dress the same now. White collared shirt, black trousers, belt and leather shoes. Most times I’ll swipe Henry’s fedora. Classy, but doesn’t scream the nines. But getting dressed up feels weird too now. Taking a shower, feeling the warm water, before stepping out and drying myself? It feels off too. It’s like I’m waiting for the water to just..stain me. Like the ink.

But it doesn’t, of course it doesn’t. It’s just fucking water. 

I can’t yell anymore. Sometimes it hurts to talk while other days, it hurts to breathe. 

But I can’t complain. I don’t want to worry anyone. I don’t even deserve being..saved.

About my BATIM AU "Dead And Buried."

Dead And Buried is about Henry coming back and discovering the truth of what happened. Henry's memories of the studio and its people are either a bit blurry or entirely gone due to him getting a concussion the month before he came back to the studio. The concussion caused him a mild loss of memory, while the concussion itself was caused in a car accident.

Henry feels something calling to him below the studio when the sudden telegram arrives in the mail. Before Henry received the telegram, he had received a call from a woman named Harriet Polk, who claimed to be Norman and Johnny's older sister. She had found Henry's number in a phone book when she was cleaning out Norman's house. She explained that Norman and Johnny had been missing for a while now and she was desperate to find out what had happened to them. She had already tried going to the police to file a missing persons report, but all they told her was, "They're legally adults. They're allowed to do as they please."

She also recognised Henry's name due to Norman talking about him, knowing that the two worked together. Henry tells her about his concussion and, to her dismay, doesn't have much information that would be useful to her. He could hardly remember Norman. The only people he could remember the most was Joey Drew and the music composer (couldn’t recall his name.) With a heavy heart, Harriet thanked him, then hung up. The conversation though would replay Henry's mind, causing him the determination to collect his forgotten memories.

He finds old photo albums, letters, drawings and even an old marvelous fountain pen that had been gifted to him by someone named Sammy Lawrence. The photos can only answer so much, which was pretty much nothing. The drawings could only be interpreted as "just cartoons" and the pen..well..it certainly didn't explain anything (though it was nice to look at, admittedly). So when that telegram arrived out of nowhere, inviting him to visit the old studio, to get a chance to remember again, he accepted. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything else going on in his life at the moment. 

When arriving at the studio, Henry will have to unearth the hideous lies, bloody nightmares and the screams from friends and foes. How deep will he go to understand the past? How far will he push on to retrieve his memories? Maybe letting memories being Dead And Buried would’ve been for the best, Henry.

What’s Hudson’s opinion on Ray? Ik they interacted a bit but what was his take on him?

Hudson is still suspicious of Ray, but since Jack has taken a liking to him, Hudson won't harm him.

He got a little annoyed by being mistaken as a newbie, but he doesn't really have a problem with Ray.

I think he just needs to bond with Ray a little more. (Maybe commit arson together)

Daffodils:

Present Hudson: What do you want now?

Younger Hudson: Can we play? ...what's that?

Present Hudson: a flask.

Younger Hudson: Oh, okay. Can we pick daffodils?

Present Hudson: Why the hell would I want to do that?

Younger Hudson: Because they're bright and yellow! And when I give them to maman, she's really happy!

Present Hudson (inhales): Happiness is temporary. Especially when she then realises you went through her garden and tracked mud in the house.

Younger Hudson: Oh.....I didn't think about that.

Present Hudson: You don't think most of the time, kid. Considering how draft you are most times.

Younger Hudson:....I'm sorry.

Present Hudson: Sure you are.