WoolPuppet3410

I’m going to be hopping from one thing to another a LOT but if you want to see something I’ve drawn before be drawn more please ask nicely! The magic word always works! (Not always but I’ll try pinky promise)

Aside from constantly being plagued by the legalities of the objects being realized and not having any documentation whatsoever- I’ve lately been thinking about how the objects might feel about, well, their object once their realized?? Like would some of them (if possible) request to keep their item mayhaps? A few that come to mind could be Chance, Rebel, Timothy, Jacques, maybe Parker keeps a game or two, maybe the hanks all have one hanger each, little things like that Yknow? Because technically that was them, they were those objects so they might have some level of attachment which makes sense

So now I am plagued by thoughts of “lol imagine each time the prophecy has been completed the world itself does a hard reset and the prophecy repeats again and again with new people, adventures, friendships, unspeakable horrors, doesn’t matter what little things change the prophecy will always happen as intended. But to fulfill the prophecy and stop the roaring one of the hero’s must be sacrificed. Not by blood but transformation.”

Here is more, have at thee

(Full page + reference images under cut)

Three men, all poor boys with no money for what they need. It’s okay though, they stick together. One a talented musician, playing street music for change. Another good with his words and quick witted, he never had the chance to learn how to read and write. The last had his street smarts and brawn, he kept the others safe. When war breaks out across the continent, they enlisted into the army and quickly gained reputation and medals for their good work. The third had died. It happened so suddenly the others couldn’t react, could only finish the fight and hope there was a body to bury when they got back. There was a funeral. A body six feet deep. And a scientist. A scientist with a shovel. Thirds body didn’t have time to even fully decompose before the scientist had stitched him back up. Tuned up and electrified, third is now a super weapon. Built for slaughter. The first one to die was the fool to bring him back. Thirds brain was rotted and shot, with wires running through it to help power the body. The wires were made to erase his free will, the doctor should have specified when telling it to kill the ‘evil bastards that did this to me’. Third was catatonically walking around, trying to find the bastard that did him in. One and Two were back on the street again. Despite putting their all into protecting this godforsaken country and losing everything for them. They didn’t care to pay them, give them housing, hell even food. They were lucky that military training comes handy when they don’t have their missing part to the puzzle. He always kept them safe. There was clicking. One and Two looked up from their food scavenge to see the long dead face of an old friend. The devil stared right back at them. It stalked closer to them, silent on its feet despite its size and the loud clicking of gears. It stopped, just before them. The hand of their friend reached out towards Two’s face as Three’s hand began to soak with tears. Three could feel One cupping his face and he leaned into it absently, a memory just out of reach.