#use the slep

[radiance1]

Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.

Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.

He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.

Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.

He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.

Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.

---

Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.

They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.

He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.

He hated them.

He hated them so much.

The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.

It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.

It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.

It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.

A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.

It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.

When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.

He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.

And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.

It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.

He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.

So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.

Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.

He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.

But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.

He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.

There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.

His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.

'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.

The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.

He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.

In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.

He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.

A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.

They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.

And that's what he did.

It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.

His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.

It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.

A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.

Alfred Pennyworth.

It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.

He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.

Until Afred said we were going home.

We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.

Home.

Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.

Home.

[forged-in-kaoss]

[ihearnocomplaints]

me if uhhhh me if you uh if you reblog my art and give me love and attention

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

ROOKS

[engurishu]

i think ill try doing requests !

ill just post when reqs are closed sjskjeskj cuz don't think I can do a lot whwahaehjgewhg BUT ILL DO MY BEST

for the requests btw It can be something other than enstars but pls be specific if you're requesting a character or whjawgjhaw ykyky wdakjhwgdakkgwad yes

[cwarscars]

IMPORTANT POST - BELOW READ MORE.

pls boop.

[volivolition]

after this [gestures at the deadline task] Thing is done i have to draw a cute pride icon with voli and chemi... its essential to my wellbeing as a skills fan hkjhg

[saturntheday]

So. I just finished The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer and OH MY GOD HTHSI BOOK WASS SCH AN EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOATSRE BUT TEH ENDING WAS SO CHEF"S KISS OH MY GOD IM SOKHLGKJ>L<GKHBJ<MB<M HUMANITY IS SO FUCKING BEAUTFIUL I LOVE LIFE HKJVMHGKHVB I WANT TO UGH THERES SM I WNAT EVERYTHING IS WORTH LIEVING FOR

[reasonablyobsessed]

what is it about writing in the very deepest, darkest and most ominous parts of the night that makes writing so much more easy and enjoyable? am i having the writer zoomies?? is this what it is???

[sexysilverstrider]

everything was going so well even ice steven behaved n hit enemies but then i had to use my brain at round 4 and round 5

[sprintingfish]

I read this and had to read it through as soon as I hit the reblog button.

You see, my brain placed an "h" in the word "treat." "Treating" turned into "Threatening" from there, and I was about to comment, 'Haaaa, threaten others with respect. You go @neil-gaiman!' a-la 'You Go Glen Coco!'

I was reading a book (about interjections, oddly enough) yesterday which included the phrase “In these days of political correctness…” talking about no longer making jokes that denigrated people for their culture or for the colour of their skin. And I thought, “That’s not actually anything to do with ‘political correctness’. That’s just treating other people with respect.”

Which made me oddly happy. I started imagining a world in which we replaced the phrase “politically correct” wherever we could with “treating other people with respect”, and it made me smile. 

You should try it. It’s peculiarly enlightening.

I know what you’re thinking now. You’re thinking “Oh my god, that’s treating other people with respect gone mad!”

Happy Valentine’s Day.

[bingus-bungus]

i aint like none of yall fish meme

[maukuja]

I think mom is gonna kick me out of bed in a couple of minutes

[homosexualcitron]

man i really decided to leave all big social medias BUT tumblr aka the one where my oc art (= 80% of what i draw and probably more soon) get no attention at all

[memorymessage]

i kept moving in my sleep last night. i fell asleep on my left side, then woke up on my right side. it happened twice. then, i fell back asleep on my left yet again, and my dumbass unconscious self must have stretched and moved onto my back. and eeeeverytime i end up on my back when i'm sleeping, i get sleep paralysis and nightmares

so of course i had a "nightmare"...? i mean, i woke myself up yelling, but...it definitely was not a nightmare. i genuinely think some sort of fear chemical gets released in my brain when i sleep on my back.

anyway, i was home alone. and suddenly i got extremely scared, because i realized i don't have beef anymore, so i was truly, truly alone. which, in that scenario, if i was awake, would obviously not be scary. i like being alone. but, yeah, when sleeping on back = fear chemical.

so i went out of my room to go lock the house up, immediately afraid there would be an intruder. and then suddenly... a big, black, shadowy figure came up the stairs. i started screaming. but then i noticed...

it was a giant beef.

a big gigantic beef.

dream come true! big beef!

but i still woke myself up screaming

[smolselfshippingaxcycat]

i wrote a thing with my purroject moon s/i

tw fur depictions of depurression, mental illness, suicidal ideation, slightly body horror-y near the end, also ment of bugs (namely just caterpillars and butterflies but ye)

"did you know that when a caterpillar undergoes metamorphosis, its body liquifies, leaving behind only the vital life-supporting cells...? its body releases enzymes that digest all of its tissues, turning it into what basically amounts to soup. and from there, it restructures its own body from that soup..."

…Rudy lay in their room, curled up on their side in bed, surrounded by several pastel-colored plushies.

They held a soft pink rabbit close to their chest- It rested its head on a blue pillow, eyes closed in an eternal sleep. It always looked so peaceful, yet so sad…

if only it were that easy to dream sweet dreams forever…

they stroked the rabbit's head, mumbling quiet reassurances to it that they knew it couldn't hear; "ᶦᵗ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵏᵃʸ, ᶦ ᵖʳᵒᵐᶦˢᵉ… ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵇᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ… ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ʷᶦˡˡ ᵇᵉ⁻"

The assistant librarian let out a shaky breath as their voice broke, tears welling up in their eyes. Oh Wings, they probably looked so stupid right now… Talking to a stuffed rabbit, gently telling it the things that they themself wanted to hear from someone else. Anyone would do, really…

Despite spending each day with their fellow librarians, they felt so… lonely, so isolated.

Being exhausted all the time, being nothing more than an observer in your own life did that to you, they supposed…

Wake up from only a few hours of sleep, waste time doing low-effort activities that weren't fun or rewarding anymore (between scattered naps and on autopilot), get up once the sun was down, take sleeping meds at approximately 1am, and waste time alone until they kicked in.

Rinse and repeat ad infinitum. It was all so pointless…

They pulled their blanket up to their shoulders, still holding their rabbit close to their chest, still tenderly but uselessly petting its head. The gesture and texture of the plushie was… soothing…

…The assistant librarian couldn't help but wonder if anyone would miss them or even notice if they died. Assuming they could die permanently now that the Library no longer had to hold Receptions and all…

Was it selfish to hope that anyone would? Netzach, Veil, Conductor, Hod, Mickey… But even as their names popped into their head, their fucked up head came up with reasons why they wouldn't almost immediately. Netzach had other Assistant Librarians to help out, and they were probably just as replaceable to him as they were to the manager back at L Corp. Their cheerful, inclusive attitude and brief check-ins probably didn't mean a thing. Veil had Conductor, and Conductor had Veil- It was so fucking stupid how they tried to force their way into creating a friend group when those two probably only needed each other. Hod had many girlfriends, and probably lots of regular… platonic friends as well. Losing one friend wouldn't mean a thing, right…? And Mickey… Probably never cared about them at all to begin with.

They realized that all those jokes they made about offing themself in some way or another were starting to have a hint of truth to them. …Or maybe they were always truth, passed off as a joke through a bittersweet smile to prevent anyone from worrying, prevent themself from being a burden.

How long had they done this? Been miserable, but tried to make themself seem as small as possible to avoid bothering anyone else… They didn't know the exact amount of time, but it was definitely as far back as they could remember. Did the people who told them they looked sad or anxious all the time sense it? That deep melancholic sickness that had seeped its way into their body, infecting their mind, and entwining with their soul so intricately that getting better became synonymous with losing a part of themself…

None of it would get better if they didn't open up, of course they knew that- But it was all so terrifying, the idea of opening up at all. What if they made someone uncomfortable? What if they shared too much, or brought similar feelings up in others? That was absolutely the last thing they wanted…!

Rudy

closed their eyes

tears rolling down their cheek

as they sniffled pathetically.

...Stop thinking...

They nestled up closer to their bunny, and deeper amongst their blanket.

The outside of their body felt warm, but the inside was so… cold. How are you supposed to warm up your insides…? Maybe a warm drink, or a hug? some soup- Not that they had the energy to go get any, anyways…

Maybe they themself were the soup, gone all cold and bad from being left out too long in the hellscape of the City… Rotting…

As more tears wet the pillow beneath their head, it felt as if their whole body was slowly liquifying… They could see it with their closed eyes- They'd hold a hand up to their line of sight, and watch it drip, drip, dripping away with the tears. It wouldn't be scary or painful, it'd just look like… sweating? Or maybe the water dripping off your wet hands after you wash them…? ʷʰᵃᵗᵉᵛᵉʳ…

Cocooned in blankets as a false chrysalis- They suddenly remembered what they recently learned mindlessly skimming through one of the entomology books on the Floor of Natural Sciences- That caterpillars undergoing metamorphosis slowly digested themselves in their chrysalis, leaving behind only the most vital cells to stay alive, and reconstructing their entire bodies to become butterflies from there on out.

…Maybe the day wouldcome someday where the assistant librarian would emerge from their own chrysalis, reformed into… whatever the human equivalent of a butterfly would be. Someone who… manifested their own E.G.O…?

That was a comforting (and hopeful) thought, but…

It felt so artificial and fake. So out of reach.

…So for tonight, just drifting off to sleep once again with the catharsis of caring for their bunny plushie,

and treating it with that heart-wretching gentleness they rarely ever got

was just enough…

Goodnight, Rudy.