i should be doing my homework........ my teach gonna kill me tomorrow i literally missed deadline for ... three times this week already...........
have a little sketch of bh!!!! ig its my interpretation of them. i really wanted them to have wacky unkept hairstyle and idk if they seem a little too masc, i think allat bouncing and bounty hunting gonna give you some muscles eventually... i can write about my version of BH more in another post and i probably will alongside w/ debating if i should make this into full work. you can also see how i was struggling with robo arms
there's initial version with text on the side:
text from img.:
[Wide eyed, hurt, shivering and cold. They stood there for agonizingly long moment, looking at reflection of themselves. Their hands - the hands that do not belong to them anymore - were shaking. They tried to calm down, wrapping both of the mechanical arms around upper torso. Squeezing hard, hoping to get rid of this feeling. This drowning, overwhelming fear, creeping further inside of them. Poisoning.
They wanted it to stop, they want it to disappear. They wanted it to not hurt anymore this much. There's nothing to be scared of. An empty room, discarded bedsheets, sweat ruining sleep shirt. Mapping the length of their spine like a serpentine slithering between shoulder blades. Biting hard into flesh, leaving nothing but freezing sensation of death itself.
They felt arms upon themselves, digging painfully into shoulder and smooth material of bulletproof glass pressing into the other. Blackout visor, no one behind a helmet. The costume, bounty hunting gear - empty shell. Mindless and impersonal. Built to be helpful, to be convenient. Built to kill. Just like they're all thise year. Nothing but a tool.
Another set of hands; not even hands - gloves. The ones they had to wear ages ago, saving people. Avenging humanity. Proving something to nobody.
Familiar feeling of alien technology clawing their hips. Seemingly trying so hard to skin them, leaving bloody stains, sipping through worn out fabric. Alongside with feeling of deathly hold, they felt a sharp pang of broken glass cutting through clothes, drawing fresh blood from inflicted wounds.
But there was nothing. Just their blurry image - an amalgamation of scared face, limbs and tangled hair in knots. Nothing but them and scars, dully aching in the darkness. ]
there's ANOTHER version, where this text replaced with one sided dialogue w/ gene, but its not that interesting.
