This blog is no longer active! All art from here on out will be posted on @susivoi ! Thanks for everyone who followed this blog until this point. My main tumblr is a lot more active than this one has ever been so if you want content, here you go! To archive my art, this account won't be deleted.
Also. I want to make secondary designs for them. I only have these for Mono and Six. Mainly because I don't particularly like how dull my primary Six is. Also my Primary Mono is so cute that its really hard to make him a gremlin.
Also. I want to make secondary designs for them. I only have these for Mono and Six. Mainly because I don't particularly like how dull my primary Six is. Also my Primary Mono is so cute that its really hard to make him a gremlin.
"He had her. He had her. That tiny paperbag demon of a child had his music box girl."
The Hunter is less than pleased when he finds a small boy sneaking through his workshop with the music box girl. He doesn't know why, but when the girl tells him 'no', he can't help but listen.
Hunter Adopts Mono along with Six!Au
He had her. He had her. That tiny paperbag demon of a child had his music box girl. The kidâs hand was clenched tightly on her arm as he was dragging her through the little doggy door on the side of his workshop. The sight was almost too unbelievable that The Hunter almost dismissed it as one of the recurring visions his dead eye would smash his mind with. But, visions didnât make sounds. These two did.Â
A roar of rage rattled his already wracked throat. He dropped the racoon he was skinning, and snatched his shotgun from against the table. He spun as the kids slipped out of the wooden flap right next to the doorway. Half blind with rage, The Hunter stomped to the door. The floorboards shook under his heavy boots.Â
He slammed the door open, and cocked his gun with a click.Â
He huffed a laugh as he spotted them. He locked eyes with the girl. He needed to get her back. Curse this boy.Â
The gun shook with recoil as he blasted the fence the two were planning to use as cover. Hehe. Not on his watch.Â
The one leading, the paperbag child, nearly slipped trying to veer away from the shattered wood shrapnel. The girl, his girl, was far enough away to not get hurt. The Hunterâs breath felt hot against the sack on his head. He would make sure that the girl stayed unharmed. It was the other kid he was after.Â
His shotgun was cocked again. They had run far enough to hide behind one of the many empty wooden boxes he kept littered around the place.Â
BANG
It was blown apart. The boy and the girl covered their heads as splinters rained down onto them.Â
He hurt the girl.Â
He had to end this before he did something he regretted. Stepping to follow the kids, The Hunter didnât waste time in cocking his gun once more. He wouldnât even give the boy time to run. He aimed. It was true, as usual. Without hesitation, he clicked the trigger and the gun shook.Â
The gunshot echoed against the shrouding trees.
Silence.Â
The Hunter relaxed the arms holding his gun. So it was done. He almost smiled. He heard the girl hyperventilating. Donât worry. Heâs dead.Â
He locked eyes with her. But⊠she wasnât the one panting.Â
The answer immediately drowned his head, and with a roar he brought up his gun once more and aimed at the collapsed boy. Yeah, he wasnât dead. Too much movement. Too much noise. Any true shot wouldâve proven fatal. He mustâve miscalculated and missed anything vital by sheer millimeters.Â
He cocked his gun.Â
The girl was in his aim.Â
Startled, The Hunter yanked his aim away as he pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the ground harmlessly. With anger, he looked back at his girl. She stood in between him and the now sobbing boy. Her arms outstretched in a protective shield.
She didnât want him to kill the boy.Â
Why?Â
The boy had taken her. He took her out of the safety she had had. He was a threat. The Hunter couldnât let the boy take her. He wouldâve been alone.
AloneâŠÂ
A dawning of realization caused him to gasp. She wanted a friend. That almost made The Hunter angry again. She didnât see him, the one that takes care of her, as a friend. But, he couldnât get agitated with her. That would make her want to leave with the boy again. So maybeâŠÂ
He should give her what she wanted while making sure that he had what he wanted. It would be a compromise.Â
He set his gun to the ground. He could grab that later. The girl watched him warily. It hurt him to not have her trust, but things couldnât be simple these days.Â
He walked over to the two. The girl stood her ground, stopping him from taking another step towards the boy. He could get a closer look at him now. The bag that was on his head was blown apart at the back. It had slipped off in his squirming and blood dripped from where the bullet had grazed the back of his head. It wasnât serious. A week should have him almost fully healed. The Hunter wouldnât say that it hurt. He, personally, was used to pain. But, it seemed that for kids, pain was amplified. He remembered those days. He huffed a laugh.Â
The boy stopped his wincing and looked up, panicked. Upon seeing The Hunter so close, he yelped and almost jumped to his feet. It couldâve been fear or shock that kept him on the ground. The Hunter figured that it was both.Â
The girl still didnât move. If anything she was on her tiptoes, trying to be bigger. As if that would stop him.Â
The Hunter looked down at the girl with warmth. His gloved hand rested on top of her trembling head and stroked her hair. She didnât need to protect the boy. He wouldnât be harmed.Â
His lone eye traveled back to the boy. Scared confusion marred his tear-streaked face. His entire body shook as his eyes stayed locked on The Hunter.Â
The girl beneath his hand relaxed. Maybe she understood his peaceful intentions. Still on edge, she seemed to step aside. Her small fragile voice whispered, âD-donât hurt him. Please?âÂ
Donât worry.Â
The Hunter knelt down in front of the boy. He still hated this kid. He was sure that the boy knew that. If it werenât for the girl, he wouldâve had a bullet in his head. But, if the girl wanted the boy alive, The Hunter could tolerate it.Â
Carefully, he reached out to pick up the boy. But, at the first chance he got, the boy yelped and pushed off the ground to sprint away.Â
Without much of a choice, The Hunterâs hand flew out and snatched the boy off the ground. He screamed again and squirmed in his grip. The Hunter was about to examine the wound on the back of the kidâs head, but a sharp sting in his pointer finger made him flinch. Standing, he found the boy with his teeth dug into whatever part of his hand he could. It wasnât all that painful, but it was bothersome.Â
Cursing under his breath, The Hunter turned and sulked back to his shop. The pitter patter of the girlâs feet on the underbrush behind him comforted him.Â
He was doing this for her.
By the time he got back to the door, the boy was actually making progress with ripping open his glove. If he tried hard enough, he could possibly draw blood. His jaw was weak. Weaker than the girlâs jaw had been during her couple of goâs at him. Weak prey wasnât all that good meat.Â
The boy isnât meat. That analogy sucks.Â
Still, he needed the energy to heal his wound.Â
âCareful.â The girl whimpered behind him.Â
Whether she was talking to him or the kid, he had no idea. Still, The Hunter loosened his grip on the boy.Â
The boy returned the favor by biting down harder. Muffled growls and whimpers choked out of his throat.Â
The Hunter sighed and pushed into his workshed. There wasnât much he could use for first aid. Most of the bandages he had were used or grimy from years of sitting on shelves. He rarely made trips to the city, having ran from there years ago to leave his TV addict family for dead. The thought of spending more than a few minutes there makes him want to clench his fist and crush the kid still biting his finger. He held himself back.Â
Speaking of which.Â
The Hunter held up the hand with the boy to his face. His sack couldnât emote well but he tried his best âWill you just stop?â glare. He should knock the kid out. But, he had no nonviolent means of doing so. Any hit to his head would make the wound worse.Â
The Hunter sent a âYouâre his friend. Tell him to stop.â look at his girl. She flinched at the sudden change of attention onto her. But, she cleared her throat and said loudly at the boy, âMono!âÂ
The boy, Mono was his name then, startled.
âCould you calm down for a few minutes? He wants to help you.â She scolded, her voice kept at a comforting plee.
A flash of realization flooded the boy's face. If The Hunter wanted him dead, he would have shot him already.Â
Finally, his teeth let up and he slowly let go, keeping a wary eye on The Hunter.Â
The Hunter huffed and got back to work. He found a musty bottle of rubbing alcohol on one of his deeper shelves. This should work, he remembered buying it a good few months ago. Next to it was a questionable roll of bandages. Those could work as well. Feeling proud, he walked over to his work bench. He couldnât do this one handed, but he couldnât let the boy go without risk of him running. Not that The Hunter cared about him running. He had to keep his girl happy.Â
The bottle of alcohol thumped against the bench as he set it down. Now that he wasnât moving around all that much, The Hunter could feel the boy trembling in his grip.Â
The Hunter moved to set the boy down, and to ask if his girl would be willing to console him. Then he thought better of it. It wasnât as if he didnât trust her. He still didnât trust the boy. He could still run off despite the girl telling him not to.Â
He had one more ace up his sleeve. He doubted that it would work, but the boy was already panicking, hyperventilating, and shaking against his hand. Why not feed that fear into a fire?Â
He quickly brought the boy to his face and with a sore throat uttered, âIf you run, youâre dead.â His voice was gruff and scratchy from misuse, but he believed that got the point drilled even further into the boyâs tiny skull.Â
Apparently it worked so well that the boy seemed to shut down and pass out at that second. Huh. Well that made things easier. His girl gasped silently behind him, scared for the boy.Â
Heâs fine. Donât worry.Â
He gently set the unconscious boy down onto the table. He would have to work quickly just in case if he came to.Â
So he quickly washed out the wound and dressed it. He would have to change the bandages often, which he didnât look forward to. Then he scooped the boy up in his fist again and motioned for his girl to follow him back to the house.Â
Before he changed up his tactic, Mono threw the ball a sixth time. He had no hope that she would react. So, instead of throwing it beside her, he aimed for it to bounce harmlessly off of the side of her head.Â
Six spun on the drop of a hat to, what Mono presumed, glare at him.Â
Mono smiled at her.Â
Six tilted her head, confused. She glanced at the ball and back at him a few times. Mono barely caught the befuddled look on her face. He almost believed that she had never played catch before.Â
Mono whispered a âHeyâ to get her attention. She stared at him, still confused. âItâs a game.â He pointed at the ball and then to himself.Â
Six followed his motions and she perked as a wave of realization caught her up. The tense atmosphere was then not forgotten, but reworked. She crooned and reached out to scoop up the floating ball in her large hand. Hesitantly, she carefully set the ball next to him. Sitting back, she redrew her hand.Â
Chuckling, Mono grabbed the ball again, and asked, âYou ready?âÂ
