#void's work

Huevember Day 3: Hoverfish I love these little guys :]

and a bonus phil and human!techno bc i wanted to draw him big stronk arms

Alone. Cold, and squishy. The floors are white, but yellowed with years. The padded walls are too close together but so far away. He can’t move. Jack can’t move. The floor is mockingly soft, too cold and foreboding too sleep on. He lay on his back, staring hazily at the padded walls. LOUD It’s all so loud and yet so eerily silent. The screaming and crying and incoherent ramblings. The anxiety, the insanity, we want so desperately to just die. In the quiet. The silence so still he can feel his pulse in his ears. The air is stale and sickly, smelling of vinyl and chemicals. The bulb above is steady and unchanging. A harsh white glow beating down on him all hours of the day. So here Jack lies. On the floor so hard yet soft; strapped up in a straitjacket. They already used whatever willpower they had to try and knock down the door. That damn door. The door of false promises. The door that beckons him to leave, to just get up and it will all be fine. You can go home! It says mockingly. But all Jack can do is stare.

Jack has almost made it out before. He learned a trick which made him feel so smart. He thought he was a step ahead; he could finally show dad! He dislocated his own shoulder to escape the straitjacket. It worked! It worked, he was free! Jack could go home, he could sleep and he would be okay. He wouldn’t have to hear the noise, noise NOISE. All the screaming and agony, the mental anguish surrounding him. The chaos thrumming in his mind, washing over him again and again like waves of the rising tide. He was so close, Jack was almost out, he held his throbbing arm and pounded the door, kicking and punching it. He yelled to be let out, “I did what you wanted! I escaped! Please let’s go home!” But father walked down the hall and looked through the small window, “You have not escaped Number 5. If you are going to be so childish as to throw a tantrum in a locked room then at least do it quietly.” And he left. Father walked back down the hall and shouted, “4 MORE HOURS.” Number Five kept yelling until his throat became hoarse. Kept pounding at the door, pleading to go home. Crying, sobbing just wanting to stop all the thoughts that weren’t his. All the wants and needs and knowings of people it feels like he is, but isn’t. People who don’t even know he exists and yet somehow are taking over his whole being. People in pain and are confused, people who can’t even remember themselves. But that was before. Here Jack lies, on the cold hard floor. Silently he waits to be released from this hell. This silent prison that no one cares about. The boy no one cares about. Was he ever Jack? Jack was someone who was loved. He was loved and cared about by his siblings. Jack was someone who was trusted. Jack was someone who the others liked. Here Number Five sits in his own mind. Five is adrift in the thoughts of those is this god forsaken hospital. Number Five is not loved, or missed. His siblings continue to play without him. His siblings are afraid of him. They don’t want him to Know them. They don’t want Number Five to Know what they’re thinking. To Know their secrets. So here is the boy left forgotten. Sitting in a cell. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Unloved, unwanted, and not to be missed.

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The disgusting door finally opens. Number Five doesn’t even flinch. He is awake, but not there. His eyes glassy with disinterest. The fog behind them betraying the muddy waters of his brain. His own thoughts tainted by hours upon hours of others’. The click clack of Father’s shoes as he takes purposeful strides towards the door rattle through Five’s head. “What are you doing? Get up! Go get one of the nurses to take that thing off.” Father was angry today. Number Five figured it was because of him. He didn’t try to escape today. Father was nicer when he tried to escape. He slowly clamored to his feet, shuffling slowly out the door. He tripped and fell flat on the cold tile floor. Five’s head made a loud ‘thunk’ as it hit. He’s not sure when he fell asleep, or when he got home.

Number Five awoke in the Academy infirmary. Mother hummed sweet nothings by his bedside. What was she singing? He couldn’t tell. Five can’t read Mother’s mind. It’s comforting. To have someone who he knows is very real to not have thrumming thoughts intruding on his own.

Wait, there are some. At first like a tickle. A whisper in the back of his mind. Five turned his head to see Sage in the doorway. Mother was saying something to her. Number Five smiled, and he tried to say, “Hello”. A gentle invitation into his own mind for his sister. But he felt her recoil, a look of pity on her face.

Oh. No one likes a snoop. No one will ever miss the one who Knows their secrets. The mere presence of them dangling the threat of Father knowing them too.

Once again the boy sits. He lays in the bed warm and comforting, and yet so cold. So lonely and tired. Mother holds his hand to comfort him, but it lacks the familiar thrum of emotion. Just a cold, lonely, silence.

There the boy lies. Surrounded by love and yet completely alone. Alone in a bed that is still not his own.

Huevember Day 2: Seeds

OI CHECK THIS OUT I redraw an old artwork from last year-? maybe the year before idk! Just some fun little endermen :3 [Old version under the cut]