mrhyde-mrseek

[mrhyde-mrseek]

So this isn't something id normally post but I'm in a really tough position at the moment and can barely afford to get to my classes. Im only asking for 200 USD, if you can't donate I totally understand, don't put yourself in a worse position for my sake.

[mrhyde-mrseek]

Gender/sexuality headcanons for a Wonderland musical fic I started writing like 5 years ago and am resurrecting just for me, for fun

Alice: she/her (probably they too but she doesn’t have time for a gender crisis), polysexual, apothiromantic

Jack: he/him, bi (he was originally the token cishet but I changed my mind)

Chloe: she/they, aroace, lesbian

White Rabbit: they/it/he/she, xenine, aroflux, caligosexual

Caterpillar: any pronouns including neos (no preference, go crazy), genderqueer, metaromantic, bellussexual; in a QPR with Gato

El Gato: he/him, gay, grayromantic, apothisexual; in a QPR with Pillar

Gryphon (oc): they/them, genderfluid, pan, apathromantic; in a QPR with Mock Turtle

Jabberwocky (oc): she/they, nonbinary, quoiromantic, asexual

Red Knight (oc): he/him, bi, aromantic

Mock Turtle (oc): he/it, agender, bi, some flavor of arospec (I haven’t decided yet); in a QPR with Gryphon

As you may have noticed, nearly everyone on this list is genderfucked, arospec, and/or acespec. That is because I too am genderfucked and aromantic and therefore all of the characters I write must also be.

[mrhyde-mrseek]

affirmations for writers: i know how to write. i have seen sentences before, and i know how to make one. i can identify up to several words and their meanings. i am not afraid of semicolons.

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Me giving him a literal cloak and the biggest clunky goth boots you’ve ever seen: LET THE MAN HAVE A SENSE OF FASHION

The book said Hyde was "plainly dressed" and I gave him a giant ass top hat bigger than his head

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jekyll has moral ocd not in the “i need to be a good person” way he doesnt give a fuck about that he has moral ocd in the “i need to be SEEN as a good person or ELSE” way. he thinks hes seen as filthy and perverted and he knows he is but he cares more about public perception and reputation than whether or not hes actually harming people. bc he is Entitled above all else. he is a rich man after all.

[mrhyde-mrseek]

💥 Small Writing Habits That Genuinely Changed How I Write 💥

listen. i’m not here to sell you a productivity system or convince you that waking up at 5am will make you a novelist. i am deeply Not That Girl. HOWEVER, here are 5 chaotic little writing habits that quietly rearranged my brain chemistry:

✏️ typing BEFORE i know what happens i used to think i had to outline everything before writing. wrong. i get more done when i let the scene surprise me. just start with vibes and a line of dialogue. the rest shows up once you start moving.

🗣️ saying the scene out loud like a play no joke. talking my scenes out like a script?? life-changing. the pacing, the emotion, the rhythm of it all makes more sense when i act like i’m gossiping about my blorbos in a voice memo.

⌛ 20-minute timers (not for productivity, just to start) i tell myself “just 20 minutes.” sometimes i stop. sometimes i blink and it’s 2 hours later and someone’s been emotionally eviscerated in chapter 12. this one’s black magic. use wisely.

🕯️ re-reading my WIP like a book no editing, no judging, just reading through with snacks like it’s already published. changes how i see the pacing and emotional arcs. also reminds me it doesn’t completely suck.

🧂 leaving in the messy parts i used to delete scenes that felt “off.” now i just write a little comment like “THIS IS BAD BUT KEEP GOING.” turns out momentum matters more than vibes. shocking, i know.

anyway. tiny habits. huge mental rewiring. 10/10. highly recommend.

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I’m not telling you the context for this drawing. But I really like how it turned out so here you go

(If you ask nicely I might tell you what the story behind it is)

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New ask game:

Reblog if you want your followers to tell you what your trademark ™️ is. Like, what’s that thing that really identifies you.

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i am your pretty puppeteer

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Griffin I am so sorry for putting you through The Horrors.

But also no I’m not. And there’s more to come. Brace yourself.

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Science Most Sinister: Volume II - Part Ten

Sherlock and Griffin stood alone in front of a dead man’s inn. The building had essentially been abandoned after Marvel’s passing: windows barred, the lawn surrounding the property unkempt and overgrown. Nobody came in, and nobody came out.

Nobody walked past it on the street, either, which made the breaking in easier in the sense that they did not have to worry about being spotted. Actually getting inside, however, posed a different challenge.

The doorknob shook as an invisible hand twisted it. “It won’t budge,” Griffin reported.

Sherlock came over. “Is it locked?” he asked. If that was the case, they would need to think of something else.

“No, stuck.”

Sherlock glanced at the hinges. “It opens inward,” he said. “We may be able to force it.”

Bracing themselves against the door, they pushed. With a scraping of wood, it suddenly flew open, the momentum causing Sherlock to lose his balance and fall forward. He was saved by Griffin grabbing the collar of his coat and yanking him backwards. “Thank you,” he sighed, righting himself and stepping inside.

The lobby was quite normal, excluding the thick layer of dust that had settled over every inch of every surface in absence of anyone to clean it. The front desk stood facing the entrance. A lonely little bar sat in the corner, several bottles missing from its shelves, most likely stolen postmortem. To the right, the staircase arched upwards to the second floor. The two of them split up; Griffin went to search the front desk, while Sherlock went behind the bar to snoop through the cupboards.

To his dismay, he found nothing but mouse droppings and cobwebs—no letters, no loose boards concealing a hidden compartment, no missing journals. The floor around the bar proved to be equally as disappointing.

Getting to his feet, he called to Griffin, “Shall we locate the staff quarters?”

“What?” came the reply.

“The staff quarters,” he repeated, louder. “To see if Croft had perhaps left anything of importance behind in his room before his disappearance.”

The little door that led to the staff quarters was to the right of the front desk, half hidden behind the staircase. Sherlock peered into the hallway beyond. It was pitch black. The lamps appeared to have not been lit since Marvel’s passing. Days worth of cobwebs hung in the corners of the doorframe.

Behind him, Griffin said, “I saw candles and a matchbox stashed behind the desk.” and walked away. A candle caked in dust floated back over a moment later, along with the box of matches. There were only a few left, Sherlock noted as he took a match out and struck it. He pocketed the rest.

Now with the candle, they could see where they were going. They made their way down the hall slowly. The dim flame made their shadows appear indistinct, half-formed.

“You also believe Croft is our new invisible man, don’t you?” Griffin said, breaking the silence.

“That is my theory.” Sherlock had figured it out the moment Kemp revealed his evidence board. Although Kemp had not told them when exactly Croft vanished off the face of the Earth, he could guess it was around the time reports of a second invisible man began circulating; roughly two weeks ago.

“Have you told anyone?”

“Not yet, though I suspect Mycroft knew even before I did. I would like to gather more evidence first, which we will hopefully find in his room.”

Finally, they found a door with Croft’s name pinned to it. Griffin attempted to turn the knob. “This one is actually locked,” he informed Sherlock. It locked from the inside—there must be a window in Croft’s room that he had used to aid him in his disappearing act.

Sherlock dug around in his pocket, then took out a hat pin. “I assumed we would be faced with this problem, so I borrowed this from Gwen,” he explained. “Do not tell her it is missing,” he added. “I did not ask permission before taking it.”

It took a minute of poking around with the pin, but at last the locking mechanism clicked open, allowing them easy access to the room.

There was, as suspected, a window on the opposite wall facing out toward the street. It was closed, but had been left unlocked, indicating Croft had indeed used it to make his escape. The room itself, a claustrophobic space barely large enough for a small bed and a tiny metal fireplace, was a mess. Books and pens were strewn across the bed, and loose papers covered what little floor space there was.

Sherlock’s gaze narrowed in on the fireplace. There was something amongst the ashes that had by some miracle escaped the flames. Crouching down in front of it, he reached inside and pulled out a scrap of paper, charred along the edges, but a bit of somewhat legible print still remained.

Before he could examine it closer, Griffin snatched it out of his hand. “This is my handwriting!” he cried. The paper crumpled into a ball and flung itself at the floor. “He—he burned my notebooks! Why would he burn them?”

“Possibly to erase any traces of evidence connecting him to the Invisible Man,” Sherlock said. He laid a hand on Griffin’s shoulder. The muscles relaxed as Griffin took a slow breath to calm himself. “We will have to worry about them later. We should instead focus on”—he made a sweeping gesture about the room—“this mess.”

Griffin grumbled something inaudible before shaking Sherlock’s hand off and (Sherlock assumed) knelt down to sort through the papers on the floor.

Sherlock himself turned to the books on the bed. He was surprised by many of their titles—partially because he recognized several of them. Van Helsing had gifted them to the House from his own personal collection. His confusion grew as his eyes shot from one cover to the next: Mastering the Occult; Folktales of the Tenth Century and Earlier; Creatures of the Night; Demonology and Rituals.

“These are occult tomes!” he exclaimed. His mind raced with questions and possibilities. This had no connection whatsoever to Griffin’s notebooks. It made no sense. Why did Croft have these books at all?

An invisible hand pulled the book on folktales across the bed. “He’s marked so many pages,” Griffin murmured, leafing through it. “And written in the margins.” He dragged his thumb across the edge of the pages, fanning them out. “I can hardly read any of his annotations, they’re so frantic . . .”

Sherlock reached for Demonology and Rituals. It opened automatically to a dog-eared page near the end. He came face-to-face with a sketch of a rodent skull set inside two circles, drawn over the text in pen. It had only a singular eyeball loosely fitted into one socket. An X had been scratched over it. Strange symbols had been drawn all over the page.

Griffin suddenly made a strange noise between a cough and a gasp. Sherlock tore his gaze from the book to see the bedclothes clenched in his fists as he leaned over the side. “What is it?” Sherlock asked.

“My head is pounding,” came the response through gritted teeth. “I don’t—something is wrong—”

Sherlock took him by the arm. Tucking the demonology book under his arm and grabbing the candle, which had been set down precariously on top of the fireplace, he led him out of the room. “We will have to come back for the rest,” he said. “We must get you out of here. Watson will have something to relieve your pain.”

They needed to tell the others what they had found.

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This is just one version but I don’t have a recent picture of the other. Also they look pretty similar anyways

Somewhere between Jekyll look-alike and catlike, maybe a little wolverine (though that may just be the scraggly beard)

Something I've noticed in Hyde designs. Not to say I don't love to see all the different versions of Hyde. There are a few familiar guys here.

[mrhyde-mrseek]

praying for the people of iran, and palestine, and everyone in north africa and southwest asia facing the terror of the amerikan and zionist occupation entities and empires.

also going online and seeing the propaganda and excuses and centering people in the imperial core despite the actual crimes against humanity happening in the communities our governments terrorize and destabilize is sickening. like i need everyone to get serious.

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The lighting was an absolute bitch to figure out and I still don’t think I got it right but I give you the gays

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“I like hot gay sad girl yearning songs.”

-a sentence that popped into my head while making a playlist for Hyacinthus and adding “A House in Nebraska” by Ethel Cain, and which I confirmed was indeed Hyacinthus who said it

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I realized the links in the SMS masterpost to Volume I parts 12 and 13 weren’t working, I managed to fix 12 but for some reason 13 is still acting wonky?? When I click on it, it just takes me to google and tells me that the link can’t be opened?? I have no idea why, I’ll try to re-add the link tomorrow and see if that works