#iris sona

Finally finished the thing, just in time for the birthday of our favorite Sad Dad™️. The coloring is very much rushed, I apologize for that. But anyway, happy 8th 40th 35th birthday!

More requests for @karsyntries (for our IRIS Sonas!), Shade for @bidiza55555 and @leadpaintrose’s beautiful vampire OC!! Thank you all so much for donating!!

Hii hello hii hiiiii >_<

(Whats YOUR yumeship? 0o0)

We should make Plier-Corp sonas, sure, we don't know what they do really as of yet, if anything. But, I wanna see more eldrich horrors, I wanna see shady corporate employees, creatures of the void, y'know?

I'm already making one myself-}}

They look up from the papers they had been shredding across the room, turning in their rolling chair to face the ALTR. "I told you, and while I don't mind telling you again, I wish it'd sink in: I saved you from that awful place. You lived a long, dreadful life and- and you're only 19, yet. It's not- I needed to-" They sigh, massaging their temple to knot out the stress.

Elliot picks at the sleeves of his sweater, distant. His entire right hand is bandaged in gauze from an 'incident' during his transport. But Elliot is used to incidents, particularly ones where he is the culprit. "Where did the clothes you dress me in come from," he tests, immediately getting his answer as the scientist stiffens and turns their chair away slightly, half going back to destroying documents, half considering if Elliot even needs verbal confirmation.

"From the store, Elliot. Remember the store, the big store I went into and you had to hide in the car?"

"Store," Elliot tries out the word on his tongue, giving a hum of approval. "So, doctor, was it a spouse or a chil-"

The scientist slaps their own leg in shock and turns around to look at him with eyes that shut him up immediately. When they see him shrink under the blankets with his wide, orange eyes, they immediately untense and correct themselves. "Im sorry, it's okay. It's- it's not polite to ask certain questions. I know the testers don't... hold back on you ALTRs, but out here, people don't ask such personal things."

"Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that impacted you significantly," Elliot mumbles under a breath, almost too faint to be heard. The colour is gone from his face, and he suddenly lies back down, quieted by being startled.

The scientist licks their lips, brow creasing with pity. "I have supplies for burritos tonight. It's something you've never tried before. It has meat. You'll like it." They turn back around and gnaw at their lip with guilt as they resume their tasks of covering up Elliot's vanishing.

"Doctor," he calls softly over the whirring of the shredder. "Thank you for letting me wear your child's sweater." He yawns, seemingly exhausted into frail sleep yet again. "I think it is the only clothing I've ever enjoyed. I will get no blood on it."

The blunt confession is the first outright thanks they've received so far, and their hands clench shakily around the papers. They blink away tears. What do you even respond to that with? What could possibly addendum such a genuine thanks?