Latest Posts by unnoticedunawarestillhere - Page 8

😬 I kinda wanna know the worst thing Hudson has ever done.

Oo good one!

Hudson is no saint, even before he goes insane.

Before he was insane:

The worst thing he did was steal ink and paper for his typewriter, while also going behind his director's back and story boarding without her.

After he was insane:

Broke a Gent worker's nose, almost got fired

Hit someone with a picture frame during an argument

Probably more, but forgot

Anyway, the WORST thing he's ever done is probably during the cycle. He's a violent insane spirit who tormented Henry by actually cutting him with a pair of scissors. Later on in the story, he also torments Audrey.

Despite all this, I don't want to label him as bad, more like misunderstood on a whole new level.

Give it up for Susie Campbell! An angel in the making!

(Her poses are wonky and her hand doesn't make sense..oh well)

GUYS LOOK AT THIS! MY FRIEND DREW THIS!

THE SHADING, THE COLOURS, THE DETAILS...

ARGHHHH IT AMAZING SO AMAZING THAT I'M GONNA CRY.

Give it up for my moot!

You Bring Death

I spent wayyyy too long on this one. But finally he's finished! Badass Henry moment because yes. He deserves to be badass sometimes.

This drawing is a bit out of my usual style, but I like it that way!

The background, except for the ink on the floor comes from the game itself!

My answers:

pen! If you couldn't tell XD

I can't really have sugary things

Shape shifting sounds neat!

I'd say bears! Why not.

Halloween or Remembrance day

I like waffles and pancakes equally

50% drawing and the other 50% writing!

History! (Math is where I suck at..)

Magicians!

I have no idea. Crocs?

My questions (with my answers):

Steampunk or fantasy? (steampunk)

2. 20's or the 50's? (20's)

3. Pencil first or pen? (pencil!)

4. Rusted colours or ocean colours? (Rusted colours)

5. Foxes or wolves? (foxes!)

6. Smiling or no smiling in photos? (no smiling)

7. Movies or TV series? (TV series)

8. Be a famous actor or be a quiet writer (but is secretly making loads!) ? (50 and 50, I suppose)

9. Hand gestures when you talk or none? (Hand gestures, even if they make no sense)

10. Interview a ghost from the 70's or hop on a phantom steam train from the 1900's? (Hop on a phantom train and take me away)

Tagging:

@cupidstarz @r0zzk1ll @flowysgonemad @slaterdevil

and who else wants in. No pressure, folks!

Ten questions to ask a mutual

Instructions: prev asks ten questions and you answer them, then ask ten new ones and tag ten people to keep the chain going! I’ll go first

What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten? (For me it’s the time I accidentally drank ants)

do you like purple or green more? (For me it’s a 50/50 I love them both)

what is your favorite two color color combo? (For me it’s purple and gold)

are you a cat or dog person? (Dogs 100%)

what is your favorite painting (Miranda by John William Waterhouse)

Mountains or beaches? (Mountains)

what’s your favorite dessert? (Lemon bars)

are you right or left handed? (Right but I used to be left handed)

salty or sweet? (Sweet)

summer or winter? (Winter)

I’m tagging 11 people but it’s whatever

@wra1th-k1ng

@bladevoyager

@tragedyanddust

@kindred-spirit-93

@urfavgreekmythnerd

@sickneurotic

@ry-diggity

@we-are-but-dead-stars

@thestarryfalls

@tamaruaart

@hermesmoly

hmm seems like fun, is it alright to ask for two characters, can ask about Joey and Sammy disability head cannon (idk if I'm supposed to add the 🦾 emoji) I know they're neurodivergent /j I'm joking just interested in hearing how you head cannon them. anyways I'm going to go back to learning blender and freaking out about high poly models (scariest thing out there tbh).

In my AU,

Joey doesn't have a physical disability at first. He developed one later on due to Thomas's death ending in Joey having a bullet stuck in his leg.

Without having proper medical help or attention, he develops a limp later on due to damaged tendons in his right leg. Much later, he uses the ink to his advantage and stabs himself with needles full of ink, in attempts to fix his leg. (No idea what Joey's logic is here, but yeah.)

Joey also has a learning disability in mathematics (as well as a kind of phobia?). Either way, he struggles with numbers and heavily relies on Grant, even if he doesn't take him seriously. Things like taxes, make him increasingly stressed and frustrated (basically like most people. But he just doesn't know how to actually pay them. )

Sammy doesn't have any physical disabilities, but an anxiety disorder is considered a mental disability (at least where I live it is). Sammy (from my AU) also has anger issues, however that isn't considered a disability.

(Also....HUH? Poly models.....okay, I'm scared)

:O

Metaruu’s Headcanon Ask Game

Send in a character or characters and an icon and I’ll give you…

🏳️‍🌈 A sexuality headcanon

🏳️‍⚧️ A gender headcanon

😇 A headcanon about their religion/lack thereof

🧸 A headcanon about their childhood

👻 A headcanon about what scares them

🎶 A headcanon about music

👽 A headcanon about a weird quirk of there

💤 A headcanon about their sleep

🦾 A disability headcanon

💝 A headcanon about their love language

🫂 A friendship headcanon

💔 An angsty headcanon

🪢 A headcanon about their family

📓 A headcanon about their hobbies

👗 A headcanon about their clothes

🔪 A headcanon relating to fighting/violence

🌟 A headcanon about their desires/wishes

🥇 A headcanon about what they’re best at

🍫 A headcanon about food

🎭 A headcanon about what they lie about

❤️‍🔥 A romantic headcanon

💄 An appearance headcanon

🖕 A headcanon relating to anger

😺 An animal related headcanon

😬 A headcanon about the worst thing they’ve done

😭 A headcanon about the worst thing that happened to them.

😶 A random headcanon!

Thanks for the tag!

Tags (no pressure, folks)

@cupidstarz @r0zzk1ll @creationandcalamityau @thelocalmoth

@fancybendy

Design what your blog would look like if it was a person!

The picrew

I tag @red-skady @superchat @eviligo @maplepastry @nek0hime13 @bestgirlsyndrome @gentlesakura @games2girlsdotcom @deadlycoffee @bunny-stickers @starbitsun @888lvl @little-ikea-waldo @delanore-roosevelt @fefeps @imnevernice no pressure at all!!

If anyone else wants to join dont hesitate to reblog!!

Art is a gift.

And like a gift, sometimes, you just want to return it.

Sees a pen on the desk.

Picks it up.

". . ."

So, Jack; what triggers your misophonia? Are there any specific sounds or noises that set you off?

“Ooh, ok, interesting question. There are a few in particular but repetitive noises in general just tend to be something I can’t stand.”

“The sound of a clock ticking, dripping water, a pen clicking, or someone tapping on somethin’. Most sounds like that just sorta make me squeamish.”

“Before I started workin’ with Sam, a lot of the musicians I was around used metronomes and….ugh, I don’t want to think about those. It really gets into your head. Not only is it repetitive but it’s loud.”

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO THE BATIM COMMUNITY!

Who's who? (right to left)

@saltysublimebouquet (I couldn't draw your persona, so I drew you a Charlie)

@ergoink1 's Wally Franks

@cabinetperson 's Grant Cohen

@thelocalmoth 's Jack Fain

@creationandcalamityau 's batim oc: Clifford Conway

@pixulsfant 's batim oc (couldn't find her name)

Hudson (me)

Next row

@cupidstarz 's batim oc: Melody Taylor

@r0zzk1ll 's Wally Franks

@azzy-demangel 's batim oc: Azzy!

@fancybendy 's Nathan!

@bloodofthedemon 's Maya Green

@eeveelikessoda 's Olivia Combs

@yourfavouriteboyrider 's batim oc: Rider Hoffman

@summerlyewe 's Norman Polk

@eviethenut 's batim oc: Sally

And shouts out again to the BATIM community! It's been an honour being a member and I hope this community thrives like today!

To those I did want to thank, but couldn't find a persona or OC, even au:

@rockyrat

@clonedchaos

@asknorman-polk

@asksamuellawrence

@troubledinkbeing2 (I don't think we're moots, but you still seem cool like the rest)

And more!

Merry Christmas to my moots!

For some of my moots, I could not find an OC, persona or anything to correctly represent them, but you guys are still important!

Those shown:

@flowysgonemad

@shypiemakesthings

@slaterdevil

@bladevoyager

@creationandcalamityau 's batim oc: Andrew Harper because yeah

@mildlybizarrecorvid

Happy Holidays, guys! And if you don't give a crap about Holidays, then happy perfectly normal Wednesday.

( :^)

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

(I need them for a drawing '3')✨✨

Merry Christmas! Since it’s the end of the year I was curious what art piece you made this year that’s your favorite?

Merry Christmas to you too!

Hmmm I'm not sure, to be honest!

I'm proud of the process Hudson drawings as well as the Louise drawing (it took me so long to study her fashion sense)!

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 ;) )

@thelocalmoth 's Jack and Hudson moments!

These were inspired by our rp!

As well as this, I guess:

(Not too proud of this one as I tried to take a break from my cartoony art style)

BRO LOOK AT IT.

FATHER AND SON MOMENT AT IT'S FINEST WHAT-

(Bro ofc you have my freaking consent, you're awesome what-)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Based off of a roleplay I’m currently doing with @unnoticedunawarestillhere :O

Uhm. This is angsty. So is the roleplay though so yeaahhhh! Hahaha…. Anyways, if this gets enough reception maybe I’ll post like, an edited transcript of it with Untitled’s consent <3

For the mean time, father-son moment.

EDIT: JUST REMEMBERED I REFERENCED A SONG HERE OOPS LMAO

Lyrics are from Race by Alex G

"UH ACTUALLY, THERE'S ONLY LIKE, A 89% CHANCE HE NEEDS THEM, JACK."

*Still has the axe as Hudson kicks down the door*

"WHO SAID THEY NEEDED A KNEE REMOVAL JOB?!"

"AAAAAAAAA-"

*Raises axe*

"I'M ON IT."

*Still has the axe as Hudson kicks down the door*

"WHO SAID THEY NEEDED A KNEE REMOVAL JOB?!"

"AAAAAAAAA-"

(Hi mod for the Sammy blog)

YOUR ART IS AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT :D

You are truly talented and I hope you never give up on your silly little doodles :]

Holy shit.

Oh my god.

THANK YOU-?!

I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKE MY SILLYSNICKER DOODLES THANK YOU SO MUCH??? FIRST THING I SEE IS THIS IN MY INBOX AND I'M ALREADY SMILING?!?!

Thank you so much! I love your blog XD !!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY AWESOME MOOT: @flowysgonemad

She said that she was into 60' fashion so I had to do some research!

It looks so bad XD since I'm not quite used to 60's fashion nor haven't properly studied it.

OH WELL. HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT BIRTHDAY AND I'M SO SORRY I'M LATE.

"DID SOMEBODY SAY KNEECAP REMOVAL?!" *Grabs axe*

TALL MAN

TREE MAN

YOU'RE TALL LIKE A TREE

"I'm the tallest in the studio-"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

:0✨

Meet Louise Mayweather!

Her character was inspired by Clara Bow and her looks were inspired by 1940s fashion.

Birth: April, 3, 1930

Death: December 23, 1950

Nationality: American (Brooklyn)/Polish

Accent: Brooklyn

Voice inspo: Clara Bow (American actress)

Job: Works as Susie's assistant/secretary after she quit her job at a cafe down the street from the studio.

Best traits: humorous, confident, loyal and darling

Meh traits: quick-witted, protective, and quick to action

Worst traits: prone to gossip, snappy, dry, and defensive

When you have to use your insane little brother as a security guard.

Happy birthday to @creationandcalamityau 's oc Charlie Forester!

In our crossover Au: Forgotten Creations, she and Hudson have a sibling-like relationship! (They aren't blood siblings.)

BRO HUDSON IS GOOD LOOKING NOW??? WHAT.

AVJASJ I LOVE THIS??? THANK YOU??? DAMN THIS LOOKS SO COOL. HUH???

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 :)

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 :)

WARNING GORE (?)

How the fuck did this guy go from this:

To this:

AND NOW THIS:

(I was trying to study muscles and bones. Sue me.)

Hi!! I really like your drawings of Norman and Susie. I am very happy to see a person who also sees them as a sweet couple🤧🤧

Please keep doing what you're doing, it's makes my day!💖💖💖💖

GSAYEQVJDAVAJJAWUJWB GAH-

OH MY-

OH MY GOODNESS??? I LOVE YOUR ART?? HUH??/

Thank you so much!! I'm pretty sure I have some more Susie x Norman drawings somewhere in my blog (would just need to dig XD)

I will :"3 !!!

GUYS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE GREEK GODS APPROVES OF MY BLOG??!! *Happy dance*

@unnoticedunawarestillhere I can't send this to your inbox so Imma tag you in it :)

GUYS. GUYS. HUDSON IS IN A STORY AGAIN?! WHAAAAAAAAAT?!

This is crazy good and it definitely represented Hudson really well during his last moments alive in the studio! A lot of this was referenced from the rp me and @creationandcalamityau did a month back!

A Meeting (gift)

A short story ft Clifford Conway and @unnoticedunawarestillhere 's oc Hudson! I really hope I did your boy justice in this! It was my first time writing him, so it might not be the greatest at the moment but I tried XD. Hope you like it!

Things had started getting hectic at the studio. Clifford had no idea what truly was going on, but he knew something was clearly wrong. Employees running around left and right, packing things in boxes, scrambling to get out of there like something was going to kill them, most of the employees looked miserable at best. 

Things were falling apart. 

Clifford was tasked with collecting some other Gent Equipment, such as tools and toolboxes left behind. He was searching for hours at this point, so many random hallways, it was like a corn maze with him expecting to have something jump out at him around every corner. 

In his search, he found only one toolbox, at least that he could find. He had passed numerous employees, many of which looked at him with looks of either hatred, disgust, disappointment, worry and just overall exhaustion. He certainly felt the last one, he had run up and down flights of stairs multiple times. 

Clifford had wandered into the sewers this time, he knew something had to be down here. 

And something there was, or better someone. 

A young writer sat at a desk, he seemed very tense. The writer was muttering to himself but didn’t notice Clifford at first. Clifford walked past him, shuddering a little at the odd sight. He watched the young man’s shoulders tense for a second. Clifford somehow dropped the wrench he had been holding on the floor, making a rather loud clang as it hit the tiled floor.

“Shit!” Clifford cursed under his breath, picking the wrench back up. 

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” The writer shouted, his voice sounded rather rough like he had been yelling too much. He suddenly started coughing, Clifford winced a little, stumbling back a bit before he decided to sprint down further into the creepy sewers to find that toolbox. 

“People are weird here…” Clifford muttered to himself when he was a reasonable distance away from the rather angry writer. He sighed softly, seeing the second toolbox near the boiler room, along with an empty desk he passed, sheet music littering the desk. That was unusual but this studio seemed to be full of weirdos. 

Clifford went to retrieve the toolbox, it wasn’t too heavy thankfully. He walked back to where he saw that strange writer. The young man was still there, his brownish-black hair looked messier than it did when he first saw him. 

Clifford tried to keep going, but he was slightly concerned about the stranger. He knew he could sense him behind him. 

“Sorry about uh…dropping that wrench,” Clifford muttered quietly. The stranger coughed again, wheezing a little as if there was something stuck in his lungs like he had bronchitis or something. Clifford had the urge to scrub his hands with soap hard enough so he wouldn’t catch whatever this guy had. 

The stranger turned his head, looking at Clifford, he was tense, very tense. Clifford felt his hands clutch the handles of the toolboxes tighter. 

The young man stared at him for a second, not fully turned around. His hair obscured most of his face. He didn’t look so good. Clifford could tell by his pale, sickly-coloured skin. Though he himself was on the paler side, he at least looked healthy. 

“What do you want now?” The young man asked, he almost sounded like he was going to laugh or cry, or maybe both. 

“I just said sorry for bothering you. I will be on my way.”

The young man huffed, suddenly slamming his fist on the table, causing Clifford to jump a little, he backed up a bit more. He placed the toolboxes on the floor to give his arms a break. He wasn’t sure if he should run, even though his mind was screaming at him too, he stayed still, staring at the stranger. 

Maybe it was morbid curiosity or concern, he wasn’t sure. He wanted to leave, but he was afraid he’d get chased out of there by this weird writer. 

The young man suddenly stood up, he turned to look at Clifford, his dull dark brown eyes looked through him, not at him. Something was clearly wrong with this kid.

“Who are you? What the hell are you doing here bothering me?” The young man asked, his eyes narrowed slightly. Clifford could notice a smudge of black on the corner of his lips, which was odd. 

Clifford paused, trying to steady his breathing a bit. “I was just picking up extra Gent toolboxes.”

The writer approached him a bit more, suddenly looking around as if he heard something. 

“Please tell me you hear that too…” 

Clifford looked at him as if he was crazy, which that clearly was the case. As much as Clifford hated judging others, this kid was crazy, clearly insane. 

“What are you talking about?” Clifford asked, sounding clearly confused. 

The writer looked back at him, his eyes widened a little.

“The knocking in the walls. You don’t hear that?” 

Clifford shook his head, he wanted to run, he really did. But he was frozen here. He couldn’t move. 

The writer put his hands on his shoulders, looking at him with fear in his eyes.

“You have to hear the noises! Why don’t you hear them!?” He sounded like he was going to start crying. 

Clifford out of instinct pushed him off of him. “Don’t touch me, you weirdo! I don’t hear any noises!”

The writer blinked a little, coughing up some strange black liquid. Clifford was even more uncomfortable with this kid. He wanted to run away, he had to get out of there. 

“What, are you scared of me?” He grinned a little, his smile unsettled Clifford greatly. 

“No, I’m trying to do my job.”

The writer crossed his arms, he had a smug look on his face now, and the black liquid had trickled out of the side of his mouth a little. “And what’s that? Picking up toolboxes? That’s a pathetic job, is it not?”

“Yeah it’s dumb, but I’m helping pack up stuff for Gent. Maybe you should mind your own business, kid.” Clifford replied, sounding clearly annoyed. 

“Who are you calling, kid?”

“You, dummy. I’m calling you that.” Clifford replied with hardly any emotion in his voice, he tried to repress the feeling of annoyance that was slowly turning into anger. 

The writer laughed, sounding more like a wheeze than anything else.

“You think you scare me? You’re just another Gent Lacky.”

“I do enough work to provide for myself, I am not lacking in any way. Sure I am not the highest-ranking employee, but I work hard for what I earn. I think you should have more respect for workers like me.”

“Sure, whatever.” The writer replied nonchalantly, he was flipping a coin in the air now.

“I’m serious! I deserve some respect!” Clifford was getting frustrated with him now, he walked up to him, noticing how smug he looked at him. He flicked the coin suddenly in Clifford’s face. Clifford sighed heavily. 

“Have a Loonie, you look like you need it.” The writer said, that smug smile not leaving his face as he flicked the Loonie back at him again. Clifford was losing his patience with his kid. 

“Can you stop? Don’t want your Loonies!” 

“Come on! It’s one dollar in Canada! You aren’t scared of a single dollar are you?”

“I don’t care how much it's worth! Give me some respect!” 

The writer didn’t respond, he just flicked the Loonie back at Clifford. Clifford clenched his hand into a fist. He wasn’t the type to lash out at people, but this kid was driving him insane.

“I would stop if I were you, kid.”

“No! This is funny, you keep messing up the place and are the reason this damn studio is going to shit in the first place!”

“Don’t blame me for that! Maybe your idiot CEO should pay his damn bills.”

“Maybe you should stop ripping our studio apart!”

Clifford felt his shoulders tensing a bit, he glared at the young writer adjusting his glasses a bit. 

“Would you shut up!?” Clifford raised his voice a bit, he punched the writer in the face, he didn’t even realize it at first. 

He sort of stumbled back, looking down at the kid, he clutched the side of his face that Clifford had punched. 

The kid looked up at him, squinting a little in pain, his nose was bleeding now. Clifford looked at his fist, some blood splattered across his knuckles, even if he was wearing gloves, he could still see it. 

“What was that for!?” The writer muttered, grumbling a little in pain. He wiped the blood off of his face, staring at it on his hand for a moment, his hands were shaking. 

“I’m sorry…”

He backed up, and the kid stood back up, wiping his bloody hand on his pants before approaching Clifford. 

“Yeah? Oh wow, yeah you’re sorry! I’ll make you feel sorry for being born!” He attempted to punch Clifford, but little did he know Clifford knew how to box. He knew how to fight. He had done it before. 

Clifford squared up to prepare to fight. He glared at the young writer. 

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you.”

But of course, the writer didn’t listen, he was too angry to listen. He threw a punch but much to his surprise, Clifford caught his fist. 

His eyes widened in surprise, Clifford didn’t move, he just held his fist, before shoving him back again. 

“Enough with this! I am sorry I punched you.” 

Clifford wasn’t expecting a reply. He watched the writer suddenly look guilty. 

“I’m sorry…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He sounded meek. He backed up a bit, he seemed upset. Sad even. 

Clifford didn’t know what to say.  He started to regret punching him.

“Are you alright? I punched you pretty hard back there.” Clifford asked suddenly. The writer simply put his arms around himself, looking off to the side, some blood still smudged under his nose. 

“No…I’m a bit crazy…I’m so sorry.” 

A bit? Clifford thought though he didn’t want to say it out loud. 

“It’s okay, it is pretty hectic around here. Are you leaving like the other employees?”

The writer shook his head. “No…I can’t.”

Clifford didn’t want to push more, he just nodded. 

“I’m Clifford. What’s your name?”

“Err…Hudson.” The writer replied, trying to straighten his already wrinkled shirt. 

“Nice to meet you. Even if this is a rather awkward way to meet.”

Hudson tried to smile but he instead broke out into another coughing fit, coughing up strange black liquid, just like the stuff that leaked from that rickety machine Thomas once showed Clifford. The liquid was ink…

He shuddered a little but didn’t question it. He didn’t know how to ask if the liquid was ink. It could’ve been chocolate syrup that you put in milk, that thought made him feel slightly better, even if it was stupid. Of course, it wasn’t syrup, it was ink, it had to be ink. 

“Are you alright?” Was all he could think to ask, trying to ignore the fact that Hudson was indeed coughing up ink. 

Hudson wiped the ink from his mouth, nodding quickly. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m okay…”

He didn’t sound certain, but Clifford didn’t want to question it anymore. 

“How did this place get this hectic? I swear it wasn’t this bad the last time I was here.” Clifford asked suddenly, changing the subject in hopes of easing his worries. 

“A lot happened,” Hudson replied, he sighed heavily, looking down the hallway for a moment. “Too much to the point I can’t even remember. I don’t even know what happened, just this machine Mr. Drew has which keeps breaking down and taking a lot of money. I guess bankruptcy?” 

“Oh shit…” Clifford muttered. “That’s no good.”

“Yeah…But don’t take everything I say as truth, I don’t know exactly what’s happening.” Hudson replied, glancing back over briefly at a bottle of ink on his desk. 

“What job do you do here?” 

“I work in the Writers Department.” 

“Oh! That’s interesting! What exactly do you do?”

“I help write the scripts for the cartoons. I often come down here to get some quiet.” Hudson glanced away for a moment at the mention of coming down here. He was getting quiet but he also left to be down here because he didn’t want to get mocked by the other writers. He didn’t want to tell Clifford that though. 

“That must be a lot of work. I could never do that type of stuff, even if I am a bit of a dreamer myself, I can’t really find the time and energy to create something. I never really learned. But I look up to people who do!”

“It’s a lot of work, I’m glad you appreciate my work,” Hudson replied with a soft smile. Clifford smiled back, he was glad to brighten his spirits a bit. 

“It was nice to meet you. I should probably get going now. But I hope we cross paths sometime again!” Clifford said, picking up his toolboxes. 

“Yeah…that would be nice! Nice to meet you too!”

Hudson smiled, watching Clifford as he turned to leave. He sighed heavily, reaching for the bottle of ink on his desk. He drank some of it, coughing a bit on the horrible taste of ink burning his throat. 

He sat back at his desk, putting his head in his hands, he hated this, he wanted to stop drinking this awful ink, but he couldn’t. It hurt him, but he kept drinking it. 

He stared at the empty papers on his desk, ink splatters dripping onto them from his lips. He simply lowered his head, giving up on working on his script. 

His mind refused to shut up. He wished he told Clifford the truth, maybe he could’ve helped him, but it was too late. 

It was always too late it seemed…