"I Wasn't Ready For The Photo....." >:/

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

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

I. LOVE. THIS!!! THANK YOU I'M CRYING IT'S SO AWESOME!

Am I allowed to draw your suit-wearing sona with my suit wearing sona (the art urges are winning)

YES. PLEASE. DO IT.

Discarded Letter

I think out of everyone and everything here, I'm the closest thing to looking "human", in some twisted way.

Catch me on my left side, you wouldn't think much. A short young man who looks drained, that's all. Sick, even.

Catch me on my right side and you wouldn't want to stick around. No one did, really.

It hurts. My teeth show through the gash and gore while my jaw is slightly slanted. My throat is a mess, inside and out. And my eyes...

I couldn't tell you where they were.

. . .

I've always been on the small side, there's no question about it.

I remember when I was little my mother would call me, "her little sparrow". Like I was weak. Helpless. But precious at the same time.

From the start, I wanted to prove her wrong.

And I think I did, honestly. But not without shame. Or guilt.

Or blood.

...

I remember how I was.

Witty, wistful, nostalgic and eager. Eager to help. Eager to prove what I was worth. Eager to look at the bright side.

What bright side?

I remembered when I went down hill.

I yelled at a friend who was only doing his job. He punched me afterwards. I hurt him with my sharp tongue and he hurt me with his fist.

I think a part of me wanted that. Wanted to be hit, to be hurt. As if maybe that could restore who I was.

Or could gain me a couple brain cells.

I remember how I would sneak off to the sewers, only to be met with welcome arms.

Even if I didn't always want them.

He was there to make me a cup of coffee when I needed it. To teach me melody and beats when I needed a change of subject. And to embrace me when I didn't know what to do.

I loved him more than my own father. And unlike my own father, he loved me back.

And then I pinned a knife to his throat. I asked if he trusted me, if we were friends.

I ruined it. I ruined his trust, I ruined our friendship.

He still loved me though.

I didn't deserve it though. It's not like I was actually his son.

...

I remember when she would comfort me, always treating me like she treated me when I was little. No matter how many temper tantrums I threw. No matter how many insults I spat. No matter when my heart beat had stopped.

She said she would share her heart beat with me. Her heart would beat for both of us.

Whenever I questioned her, she told me, "Because it's what older sisters do."

She said that a lot.

Even though it hurt that she wasn't really my older sister.

I guess she was just that kind.

And then, there was her.

Like the others, I didn't deserve her.

Not her humour, not her snappiness.

Not her kiss. Or her love.

But I wanted to deserve it. All of it.

His friendship.

His forgiving nature.

Her kindness.

And her heart.

I think I even wanted to deserve my father's pride or my mother's sweetness.

I mean, I don't think my father was ever proud of me.

Maybe because he just saw through me, even before I turned insane.

Maybe he was just that smart than everyone else from the beginning.

I got what I deserved though.

Blood, loneliness, wounds that never heal, headaches that never fade.

I'm finally as disfigured as my personality.

Happy Birthday, me. You did it.

Å̴̡̛̛̻͈̲̘̤͑̃̽̀̊̉͊̃̐͗͌̍͘͢͜͞n̴̸̸̢̨̛͍̞͉͖͙͎̝̬͓̤͖̘̪̮̿ͬ̏͊͂̋̽̔͐́ͦ̃ͤ̉̔͗̀̇̎̓̆ͅd͔̼̖̣̤̈́͌̈͋͛̆ͦ͑̋̓̀ͦ Ī̛̘͎̣͖̫̰͚̟͆͌͋̽͆̀͑͋̾̅͆͌̃͊̌̕͜'͓̝̭̅͆͛ͫ̚m̵̡̛̟̫̯̭̭̳̝̝̹̺̙̩͚̙̦̳̑͋͒̀̄̅ͫ͂͑ͤ́̀̎̈́̈͐̋̊ͤ̓̍ͦ̊̔͜͞ s̜̼̱̣̊̒̔̇ͨ̍͒͒͝o̸͖̹̰̦̩͓̭͙̠̖̬̐̋ͩ͒ͯ̆ͬ̓̇́̌̍ͪͪͧ̀͘͢͢͠͞ s̸̴̞͎̃́o̥͙̖͑̽ͨ̌͒r̷͇̻̺̦ͮ͌̅͑͆͊͋̑̑ͨ͝ͅ_̵̮̖̯̳̥͖̯̰̰̃̽̀ͨ̈́̋̒̏͆͊͒́͆͟͢͟͜͝r̹̻̽̑y.̷̗̺͈͌̄̀̈́̍̿͢͟

(For @thelocalmoth and for @creationandcalamityau who might so happen to recognise which characters are being mentioned ;) )

".....broke a violin..." Hudson mumbled.

"Sorry, Dad..." :(

-Dashes inside and locks the door with a scatterbrained expression- "HEY THERE AGAIN. Uh listen- SO, I kind of accidentally knocked over a bunch of instruments in the music department and now I'm pretty sure Mister Lawrence might be out to get me. CAN I PLEASE HIDE HERE?" -Pleading eyes-

“Oh!”

“Yeah, go ahead, Hudson. I know better than anyone what it’s like to face Sam’s wrath…..haha…… Anyways, make yourself at home.”

“…You didn’t, uh… Break any of ‘em though, did you? The instruments?”

EVERYONE SEND THIS TO YOUR FRIENDS IF YOU HAVE TO. VOTESSSSSSSSSSS :00

Drawings of ghost Hudson! His design is still a little bit in the works, but I'm happy how this turned out!

I do understand that I'll probably have to draw Hudson happy and sane once in a while so folks don't get too concerned....(whoops)

The day Betty decided that Wilson could do his own laundry. (As you can see my camera sucks.)

( :^)

CAN ALL MY MOOTS SHOW ME THEIR SONAS?/nf 👉👈

(I need them for a drawing '3')✨✨

Ooo what’s your favorite character dynamic to work with in the cast? :o

Hmmm Here are a list of my favourites

-anything that includes Norman cause yeah

-Hudson and Jack being buddies

-Johnny and Buddy

-Henry and Sammy

-Wally and a broom.

(If you're curious to see any of these, just let me know!)

Ok this may seem a bit weird but uhh...

I wanna draw Hudson and uhh, not to seem rude but your art style is kinda hard to translate...

Plus I don't know his lore that well...

Could you give me maybe a like, full body picture of Hudson..? I guess..?

(and maybe how to get his lore/some of his lore..?)

I don't know how to ask for this... T-T

Yeahh, I've been told that a lot :P

It's not weird that you want to draw him! It's nice to see someone interested in him as I put a lot of work into working on his character.

Lore (but shortened as much as possible):

Simple introduction:

Hudson Hendriks is a young man who was about 17/18 years old when hired. He's 5'5 (when hired) and was first just a wistful nostalgic writer who was insecure of what made him "him". (Ex: accent, height, etc)

Hudson worked in the Writing department (hired somewhere in the late 30's) from Toronto (Canada). He was offered the job by a friend and decided to take up that offer so he wouldn't waste his talents and enlist in the Air Force (like most of his family.)

Hudson was one of the many victims of ink poisoning, which was his downfall.

He started hearing things, skipping meals/proper rest and developed an unhealthy short fuse with himself and his fellow writers. This short fuse even grow to be a full on fight with a Gent Employee later on. It went terribly and Hudson was almost fired due to him breaking the employee's nose. He was spared, but did get a permanent record.

He was mocked by his fellow peers due to his newly founded paranoid behaviour and this led Hudson seeking refuge anywhere BUT the writing department (avoiding bullying and concern)

He kept further isolating himself and grew an unhealthy habit of seeing his work as "not good enough" or "could be better".

Finally, he had made plans to head back home and enlist in RCAF (Royal Canadian Air Force). He was once an Air Cadet, a boy scout and with his ties in the family..this decision wasn't all that surprising.

He decided to fight in WW2.

In his last month of working for/in the studio, he had begun to uncover what had been happening in the couple of YEARs of working there. To the ink machine, experiments, financial issues, the IRS, etc.

In his third week, he was unfortunately caught by Joey.

Joey would then try and see how much Hudson actually knew, while Hudson would just play dumb or be uncooperative.

He was then tortured by a blade Joey had and would die to multiple injuries and horrific blood loss.

Instead of placing Hudson in the machine, Joey had decided to hide his body near the elevator shaft and block it off to the public (even Gent). Due to these complications, Hudson was never a lost one or toon.

Instead, he became a violent and bitter spirit, mostly haunting the elevators and was later blamed for causing them to suddenly drop.

Even when people were in there.

(This was not short, my apologies. Some of this info has been changed, so apologies to my moots who might be like: Wait what..)