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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

I think it's pretty brave of you to vent. I can relate to what you're feeling. I don't know if I can tell you that things will be looking up soon, but I can tell you that I hope it will get better soon and I'm here to support <3. I'm really sorry what's happening and again, I'm here for you. *Hugs* I don't know if this helps, but I feel like this a lot too and I just wanted to say..this vent..makes me feel less alone with my problems. Thank you.

Vent post

Warning for vent, mentions of death/suicide and mentions of running away

Hey guys. Sorry to drop this out of nowhere. I just need to tell someone. To get this off my chest.

I hate where I am right now. I hate school. I hate having people expect something of me. I feel like I’m forgotten. That no one cares. That people just use me or don’t really care about me.

I feel like I’m a ghost in my family. I feel like they’re so busy that they barely care. I sometimes wish I wasn’t born or that I wasn’t here. I know I could never hurt myself though. I wish that I was anywhere but here. Either past of future.

I feel like no one would care if I left. I feel like I what to runaway but I’m not sure if I want to or if I could. Maybe for just a day as then I’d come back home. Still.

I hate myself sometimes too. How lazy I am and how I’m not good. Sometimes I want to rip my heart out so that I would never be hurt again. I feel like I inly hear bad things anymore. No goodness.

I’m so f#cking tired. SO TIRED. I’m tired of all the arguing, the death that’s happening, the being pushed behind and forgotten. I just want to leave. I hate this. All of this. I want to just be free to be myself but I know that I can’t.

I’m in so much pain. I’m trapped and I don’t know what to do. My therapist doesn’t help me but everyone thinks that therapy is “working.” I hate it. So much. Nothing meaningful comes out of it. I’m just tired. I want to be okay for once. But will I ever be?

I hate this. Hate this all. I feel forgotten, pained, and I just… I want to leave it all behind and hardly ever look back. I want to be in the future. I want to be okay.

I swear if one more bad thing happens I might just leave. Run away. I don’t care if people come looking for me. Hey, maybe it’ll make me noticed for once. Haha… ugh. I just want to know I’ll be okay. I want to be okay RIGHT NOW.

Sorry for the vent. But I don’t know why I should be sorry for saying how I feel, due to the fact that everyone’s always telling me to do so. Or whatever. I’ve said what I’ve need to say.

Based off of this:

Shout outs to @thelocalmoth !

Jack and Hudson's bond can never be unbroken, no matter how fucked up it actually is :]

Trying to prove a point to my transphobic parents

Reblog if trans men are REAL, VALID AND HANDSOME MEN, NO MATTER HOW THEY CHOOSE TO PASS

Reblog if trans women are REAL, VALID, AND BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, NO MATTER HOW THEY CHOOSE TO PASS

And finally, because it's a part of my argument for this point, and also because they are,

Reblog if nonbinary and genderqueer people in general, are REAL, VALID, AND GORGEOUS PEOPLE, NO MATTER HOW THEY PASS

You're welcome to draw Hudson here

I really wanna draw some BATIM ocs(humanoid or toon, Bendy vers or not) Either dm me or reblog with refs

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.

[Hudson gave him a skeptical glance, his lips tugged in a frown. He let out a soft sigh, arm pulling Ray closer to his chest. He placed Ray's head on his chest and stroked his hair.]

"No offence, but I'm way too brainwashed and drunk to believe you."

[Hudson chuckled, dark eyes glancing at Ray, before he let himself relax. Sort of. His other hand twitched near his pocket knife and his eyes glanced at the windows and the door of his bedroom every now and then.]

[It's calm and still in the story boarding Department. Well, minus the low groaning of the pipes and creaks of the old floorboards. The peace was cut short when the sound of a metal cart slamming into the wall shattered the moment. ]

"Son of a....." A voice slurred in a low grumble.

[Hudson carelessly tugged the cart back to him, almost clinging onto it for balance as his movements proved sluggish and wobbly. He glanced at Ray, his face flushed. He blew a strand of hair out of his face before picking up a yellow folder and flinging it right at Ray.]

"Take it."

“Hudson—uhm—” Ray stammered, briefly floundering with the folder before standing up, tossing it onto his desk and approaching Hudson.

“Jeez, what’s up with you—Are you drunk? What’s gotten into you?! You definitely can’t be drinkin’ on the job, imagine if a higher up found you like this…It’s not even inconspicuous…” Ray hissed worriedly, placing his hands on Hudson’s shoulders. “I know it’s not uncommon but that doesn’t—…sigh…What made you go and get pissed anyways?”

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 ^ ^

have some lovely fanart of Hudson dying in the snow :]

AHHH!! THANK YOU!! THIS LOOKS SO LOVELY AND SAD!!!

I have an idea! More Norman and Susie interactions perhaps? I really like their dynamic!!!

Will probably draw more of them in the future!