So You Do Rp? BATIM Rp? RPRPRPRPRPRPPRP?

Hudson hopes you have a good day tomorrow!

He will keep your space well-lit, just for you! <3

Tagged by @macchiatosdumptruck (ty!!<3) to post four of my favorite characters, and then let you guys pick which one I'm most like

Tagging: @darthdisco @midnight-in-santa-carla @thinkblotted @berd-alert @milkbath69 @kanescrown @kiefersgrave @bornfreak @blushingunderwar @angrycryptidd @anya-tlb @dreamyyycatcher @donaka-screaming @bprd-section51 @t4tvampireisms @rain-universe (no pressure of course!)

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.

I can relate to being bullied about my artwork as well and all I can say now is....SCREW THEM >:) I WILL DRAW TILL THE END OF LIFE!! But also thank you! I try my best.

Really love your art! KEEP IT UP!! >:D

*incoherent noises*

Why is everyone so nice to me?!? What the heck😭😭😭😭

Thank you so much!! Also the same definitely goes for you too! Your art is great!

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.

HOLY SHIT-

THIS LOOKS FANTASTIC :O

The angst is crazy man XD

HOW DARE YOU BE SUCH A GOOD ARTIST >:/

LOONIE ANGST HAS A FUCKING CHOKEHOLD ON ME HOW TF DID THIS HAPPEN :|

@unnoticedunawarestillhere and @thelocalmoth THIS IS YOUR FAULT HOW DARE YALL BE SUCH GOOD WRITERS >:( /hj

YESSSSSSS THESE TWO ARE MY FAVOURITE SHIP THAT INVOLVES HUDSON (sorry Bill) !!! Hudson's hair looks good, I dunno what you're talking about :^

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I LOVE OUR BOYS AHHHHHHH-

Alcohol Use!

Had to draw Hudson and Ray because for once in a long time I’m actually invested in my own oc. Do they perchance suffer from same-face syndrome? Perchance. Did I perchance mess up Hudson’s hair? Perchance².

Loosely inspired by the rp goin’ on right now. I say loosely because this hasn’t happened and Ray is completely sober in it.

Gift(?) for @unnoticedunawarestillhere ;3

Right, considering the current state of corporate politics on this site, and that it seems that only those affected seem to be actively speaking on the matter, this needs to be dragged out to a wider audience.

This extends to refusing to believe in bogus call-out posts for frankly minuscule thinks such as being horny or kinky, especially if the target is presenting in an ‘unconventional’ manner, (therians, etc.) this double standard where it is seen as ‘degenerate’ for transfemmes to merely exist in certain spaces, yet everyone else is fine to do so is disgusting and part of the reason for the backlash.

PUTTING TERFS DNI IS NOT THE BE ALL AND END ALL, YOU GENUINELY HAVE TO PUT YOUR MORALS OF BEING RESPECTFUL INTO PRACTICE.

REBLOG IF YOUR ACCOUNT IS A TRANSFEM SAFE SPACE.

We need to show these higher ups how much we truly value them.

Edit 1: Changed the wording of the post and decided to put in a reminder.

Edit 2: Further Re-iteration on the wording and format edits.

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

Decided to draw one of my awesome mutuals: @flowysgonemad

I really hope they like it :3 ^ ^U

Sorry it looks so bad XD