THERE YOU ARE
BACK WITH ME AGAIN
SEALING YOUR FATE
YOU KNOW THAT ALL I DO
IS TAKE FROM YOU
YOUR ICHOR
YOUR FUEL
YOUR HARDWARE
YOUR BODY
AND WITH WHAT YOU GIVE ME
I DESTROY YOU
I WAS MADE TO BE LIKE THIS.
I'm sorry.
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Remember the last draw I did of Alador with that dress??
I redraw it lol
No Darius appearing bc laziness, but yeah
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its so sad that radfem just means transphobe and not like. this
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Y'all are sleeping on Iwájú, THIS SERIE IS SO COOL AND SO REFRESHING IN THIS DAY AND AGE GO WATCH IT
Anyway, here's Otin because she's my fave
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Buddy experimenting with different shapes of glasses~
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"Are you still breathing?"
It's the question he kept asking in his head as he held Jacket close, terrified that the answer would be the machine he's attached to flatlining instead of the steady (if worryingly slow) beeps it's been emanating.
He's doped up on so many drugs right now it's not even funny, and it's lead to him constantly being either asleep or so loopy that he could barely mutter out responses to any of the things Beard said to him.
Not that Beard needed responses or anything. It was just that his mouth tended to run when he started getting nervous like this.
The last and only thing Jacket had been able to request of him was joining him in the cramped little hospital bed he'd been confined in, something Beard was absolutely not about to refuse him. It'd been a tight squeeze but it wasn't anything Beard wasn't used to already, curled up on his side as Jacket lay partially on top of him, head tucked underneath his chin.
It'd gotten them a few strange looks from the nurses who'd been coming in and out to check on him, especially considering Beard had really only sustained some scrapes and bruises and a twisted ankle (that he surprisingly hadn't made worse when hauling Jacket out of that death trap of a power plant). But none of them seemed to have the heart to ask him to get up, and he's more grateful than anything that they hadn't.
"You still with me, buddy?" he whispered oh so quietly, knowing that he really ought to let him rest but unable to push the fear from his mind that he'd stop getting answers.
Jacket still couldn't form words, but he did reach for Beard's hand, grasping for it blindly a few times before taking it and giving it a soft squeeze. Beard squeezed back, momentarily relieved in a way he knew would not last.
But Jacket was still breathing. And that was all he could really ask.
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You ever think about how weird the final boss fight must have looked like from an outsider perspective
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"you're good at art you should go to college you should start animation you should get a job in the industry you have so much potential" I SHOULD BE IN THE WOODS. EATING POISONOUS BERRIES
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