#I had rabbit hole stuck in my head while I was drawing this is that weird?

[lyn-ne]

Still waiting for my vbs beach event sega

[a-wilson-collector]

I LIVED BITCH

(cw: noncon/rape, guns, disregard for gun safety, family abuse, forced isolation, medical neglect)

wanted to save this post for until i got to a safe place, but now that i am, i can give y'all a reason why i didn't post much if at all.

its mostly because of my family.

on a scale from 1-10 (10 being the worst, 1 being the best) my mom and dad are 10, most of my dad's side of the family is like, 9.5 outside of grandma n pa. they are like an 8 or 7 depending on how pissy/petty i feel about them. my brother is like, 4. and my sister is the only one whose normal about everything so she's a 1.

the reason my mom n dad are so highly rated is because my mom would lowkey ghost me for the entire summer when school stopped, and my dad is, well, according to mom- "he never takes no as an answer."

makes me think about why i always gravitated towards noncon fanfics for wilson/maxwell. Im still working on that.

grandma n pa are 8 because my grandma defends my dad (and pretty much any violent male member of the family) and my grandpa WAVED A FUCKING LOADED GUN IN MY FACE on the day of the move. if his hand was NOT on the trigger, he could've shot me in any part of my body including my head

my brother is a 4 because he hasn't apologized for beating the shit out of me almost every day until i was 16, but he's gotten a lot better at controlling his anger.

my sister was the only one who realized that the only way she was going to stay in my life was being cautious, but also realizing why i wanted out so bad, since she went through most of this herself.

outside of that, i hid most of my art from my family because i could NOT handle the disappointment that my family would show if that their "adorable daughter" drew a guy ripping his face off, or drawing porn (tho that wasnt until years later, obviously.) thats why most of my art is violent or violent in nature. its what i grew up in. constant fights all the time. cps was called a few times but they didnt do anything outside of adding to the trauma pile

im tired and finally in a safe environment where i wont be threatened to be shipped off my dad's place, which, if that was to happen... I'd lose all of my support network, including doctors and psychiatrists. I'd be completely shut off from the outside world, including my boyfriend and friends on discord. in his mind, the internet is the reason i have such high needs, instead of, y'know, THE 'TISM.

as for my past, i have gone by "noonfish" or some variation of that on tumblr, but that was while i was stuck somewhere in the alt-right rabbit hole on yt since most of my family loves trump, which is why i nuked all of them. I am deeply ashamed of my past and i'm still working on it, i know i can be better tomorrow than i was today. If i had a nickel for every time my grandma defended a rapist, I'd have three nickels, which isnt a lot but its weird it happened with three people.

i understand if people also stop following for my previous "ties" to the alt right (i was pretty surface level, mainly memes), however i was like, what, 16? and extremely isolated to boot. Thank fuck i got anti-psychotics. i was losing my mind for YEARS due to undiagnosed schizo-affective disorder, which was in play since i was 8. I still remember the time i missed my bus going home from school in elementary school, and when my mom had me in the car, she drove into a parking space and proceeded to yell at me to stop telling the teachers because "i was scaring them" because i kept seeing shadow people in the hallways. all the doctors just assumed I was being racist or something? im not sure about that but the only thing that came out of that was me getting glasses (which, tbh i did in fact, need)

after that, it went lowkey until middle/high school, where it resurfaced again and will continue until i fucking die, so thats fun. if I didn't have schizo-affective disorder, i probably still would've fallen for the alt-right pipeline on yt when i was a child (because of unsupervised access to the internet), but at least i'd be able to make a coherent statement about it. i still hate all those people that helped make my mental illness worse to the point i thought only ohio existed for like, 6 months. shit was awful.

so yeah, thats why i've been so on n off. hope to get some art soon since its about time i should do a full render. maybe it will be two girls kissing.

[shakespeareaddict]

Fix Your Writer’s Block (without using AI)

I’ve been posting a lot of AI hate here lately (almost like...it’s becoming my brand....) and one of the things that gets my goat is the propaganda belief that AI can help writers who are struggling with a story in some way, shape or form come up with the next line or fix their plot or what have you. This advice is misguided at best and destructive at worst.* 

Still, complaining about something without actionable advice for how to fix it is not really my vibe. So for those of you thinking: “But I really need help!/But what am I supposed to do if I get writer’s block?” I have good news for you: Writers have been tackling writer’s block since...probably the invention of storytelling. There are ways to get around it if you are stuck! 

So, here’s a non-exhaustive list of tips and tricks to deal with your writer’s block, no computers necessary:

Put down something mediocre and come back to edit it later. It’s easy to get caught up searching for the “perfect” word or sentence, and waste a lot of time staring at a blinking cursor. But that’s not what a draft is for! Your goal is to get as much of the story out of your head and onto the page as possible; you can always edit it later, once you’ve had some time to think. (Though you might find that when you come back, the “mediocre” bit is actually better than you thought!)

Use a placeholder and continue writing. This is another tactic meant to keep you writing when it’s a small block, instead of falling down a research rabbit hole for an afternoon or otherwise being distracted. If I need to name a minor character who appears for two lines, I will often just ID them by their function in the story and circle back to it. Eg: “Officer <<COP>> took their statements very professionally and gave them his card.” When I edit, the all-caps and the brackets are a big reminder that, wait, I need to name this guy!

This tactic also works for research! If you need to know if bees have teeth or who said a cool quote, don’t spend an hour researching that when you should be writing! That is a problem for editing!

This goes triple for fanfiction writing, especially for a fandom with a lot of convoluted canon. I write a lot of Star Wars stuff and I like to reference “canon” planets and events in my fics; but if I try to research those references while I’m writing, my writing session becomes an endless Wookiepedia Delve. I just put “<<ICE PLANET HERE>>” or “<<CHECK SPELLING>>” as reminders.

I also cheat sometimes and write “<<end scene>>” if I’m not sure how to end a scene.

Take a break. Get up, stretch your muscles, and go do something else for 20-30 minutes. This tactic is perfect for when you realize you don’t know where a scene is going, or you’re stopping and starting a lot with your work. I recommend either light physical exercise or light household chores - something that engages your body without engaging your mind too much, so your subconscious can continue working on the problem.

This is also a great way of sneaking in self-care while writing. Hydrate yourself, go to the restroom, eat if you haven’t eaten yet. This kind of physical stuff has a huge impact on your mood and brain function; your writer’s block might be a symptom of your body needing something!

Go back to the drawing board. I have a bad habit of never outlining before I start writing - I know what the first three scenes are going to be, so I don’t need an outline! Then, about halfway through the story, I realize I have very little if any idea of what happens later. Taking a step back and typing out a quick outline (simple bullet points, like “Conan calls his sister for advice”) helps me keep on focus for the rest of the story, even if I decide to go off-outline.

Rubber-duck the problem. This tactic is for when you notice a larger problem with your work - you realize there’s a plothole, or you’ve written yourself into a corner, or you know how your story ends but you have no idea how to get to there from where you are now. “Rubber-duck debugging” is a programming technique where you explain a problem you’re having with a computer to an inanimate object (such as a rubber duck). Simply explaining a problem can often be enough to help you realize what went wrong.

No rubber duck is required! You can try this technique on dogs, mugs of tea, or family members who don’t know what you’re talking about but who make listening noises at the right time.

Finally, seek help from other writers. There are loads of ways to do this and all that you need is a community of fellow writers - or even just one writing friend! - to reap the benefits. Plus, it works on just about every kind of problem you can imagine having. Asking for help can look like:

Posting a question in a Discord server or other large group chat (eg: “Which of these two sentences sound better?” or “Do you guys have tips for writing betrayal?”)

Bringing your work to a writer’s workshop of some kind (I did a lot of this in high school/college and highly recommend joining a group where constructive criticism is offered, even for just a few months! Not only do you get feedback on your work, but learning to give other people feedback vastly improves your editing skills)

Discussing your problem with a writer friend

Finding a beta-reader (either a friend or otherwise)

*Besides the fact that you are feeding your work to a program that can and will keep it forever and might easily recreate parts of it later without your permission or knowledge, and besides the fact that most AI-generated “writing” isn’t actually that entertaining or good on a technical level so the value of whatever output you get is not actually that high, the best way to learn how to do anything is to practice doing the thing. If you turn to an AI every time you hit a stumbling block in your creative process, you are going to continue hitting stumbling blocks and your skill will not improve long-term.

[voidselfshipp]

My bad habits lead to you

Cw:mentions of blood,patricide,universe/cycle orchestrated romance.

Summary: Jerico has a brief existencial crisis over her inevitable fate of falling in love with Habit.

->Only mutuals allowed to reblog

Jerico laid there in bed,eyes tired and rapidly losing her sleep. With her hands on her chest she plays with the bow and arrow pendant that holds the power of the entity that chose her,keeping her safe.

Her mind runs miles like a Fox chasing a rabbit down its hole, her heart starts to beat faster at the thought of him.

She wasnt supposed to kill him in every cycle, she knew that. Why havent they Killed her yet? Why does Habit spend so much time just flirting with her?

In every cycle she falls in love with Evan, sometimes with vinny, she could understand that, both were good people,sweet,lovely.

The night passes by with her thoughts, stars twinkle and the clouds roll away softly. She can feel the breeze of the Open window- did she Open that Window? It doesnt matter, the cool air brings her a brief respite.

Out of the corner of her eye she swears theres something staring at her,deep purple irises and-Jerico rubbs her eyes, body worn out and weak,its the sleep deprivedness because when she looks theres nothing there.

Her mind returns to her crisis not soon after that,Why is she stuck here? Why cant she be pulled out? She doesnt want this...

"Every time,youre my downfall, and ill gladly fall for you every time. Either by your sword, or your heart laid bare for me,Vixen" Habit had told her in one of their most recent scuffles,which vinny broke off.

To her,the idea of him dying by her sword is the preffered option. But the second part, her heart laid bare for him?

As if she-

Jerico sighs shakily, eyes wide with her heavy eyebags crinkling with horror. Her mind races through the few plesseant interactions with Habit..

Him tucking her In to bed after she fell asleep on his couch, his cats buddying up to her and cuddling with her, Him making her tea while she sits on the porch drawing, him fixing her bow and arrow.

The HABIT has always been harmless towards her,kind, acrually quite sweet. Protective of her when the rake showed up,or literally protective of her every time she was in danger,paranormal or otherwise.

It clicks for her that every time Evan got a little too protective it was because of Habit, and some things that Evan said that felt odd...

Well, that wasnt Evan at all

Habit has yearned for her for Centuries, protected her, kept her well taken care of and comfortable. In this iteration he Killed her parents, in pasts iterations theres always something he saves her from

And that might just be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for her

Her exhale Is shaky,almost inaudible as she whispers

--Oh my god-- her eyes widen with realization-- Im in love with habit

The breeze from the Window helps just a little to calm her down, she expected herself to cry right now but she isnt. Perhaps she can deal with it knowing that its not the first time she falls for the guy,and if she was able to deal with it before,then she can deal with it this time.

She lays on her side,facing the Window she doesnt remember opening. Closing her eyes,she lets out a deep unsteady breath, mind still racing but letting exhaustion take over,hoping And praying sleep saves her from this utter moral crisis shes living.

And though her dreams wont let her escape her current conondrum, Its nice to know that as she lays there asleep Habit keeps watch over her from the corner of her room.

His silent steps takes him to the edge if the bed,near her head. His hand, mostly clean but with Grime and blood under and around his finger nails, pushes away a few loose strands of her.

--I understand-- he whispers lovingly, sitting with her-- Im not someone easy to love, and if you choose not to love me back, I understand

Quietly he kisses her forehead and continues-- I love you,Foxy. More than you can imagine-- he smiles a little sad at the possibility of not being with her this time around-- ill do anything for you,and ill always Keep you safe

With careful touch he pulls the cover over her shoulder and smiles, leaving the way he came in (that being the window) and leaving her to get some much needed rest.

[mizuthe-cat]

you have no idea what you've done.

REAL FAST TW FOR PEOPLE!! S/H, COVID, ISOLATION AND PROBABLY OTHER THINGS WILL BE MENTIONED IN MY STUPID RANT!!

also i wrote this in my notes app before putting it here lmao

okay!! so!! :3 pretend its back in 2020. the covid pandemic has hit just about everywhere. you're stuck in your house for god knows how long. you try and stay productive by drawing, exercising, whatever.thats what this guy Ouriel has been doing. but, with the isolation of the pandemic, this.. what i wanna say second, more dark personality boils up. this bastards name is Room. think of Room as all your negative emotions, thoughts, stresses, motivations (or lack thereof), and motives all put in another personality. whom of which is depicted as a figure standing in your basement.

yeah Ouriel is a bit fucked up (but we love him <3)

so. with this. TANGENT TOWN KINDA I'M GOING OF MEMORY HERE!!

all of that was in the first video episode thing. second video, we're introduced to Dogtooth (my beloved). he has a wolf head and knife teeth (and uses ASL). so he's confronted with Quilled God. idk what Quilled represents,, but it isn't a positive representation. i think that maybe Quilled represents abusive friends or smth? idk.Dogtooth fucking kills that guy!! and then he feels bad :[

okay. shit happens. fuck (bad memory moment). so. Ouriel tries to go out (this is after Dogtooth [DT] killing Quilled) to a party. as Room consumes his thoughts, he realizes that the other people their dont know about his stress and forming depression. and, due to this, he has a mental break down.next video, i assume we see Quilled in the after life. its confronted with the angle. i dont remember much of what happened (what was spoken about) in that interaction, but the angle is important!!

we then meet the manifestion of the question "when is a house a complex?" this character is named Complex (haha get it). in their first appearance, they really point out that, if one hasnt experienced love in such a while, one will become indifferent to it, even if they long for it. that is what Ouriel and Room truly, really need.so, we then learn some deep shit. Ouriel has become so consumed by Room, they aren't productive. i say that specifically because thats what was keeping Ouriel in a good mental spot!! he becomes completely consumed by Room, and (from this point forward for a bit) is now Room singularly.

Room basically spirals. which. isnt good xP

he becomes trapped in the basement, which had been reduced to a room + chair.

okay back to DT and Quilled!! ^_^

DT carries Quilled's body to where the Complex is whar I am assuming radiating negative vibes because Room is so far down this rabbit hole of self loathing and fear. its sad. (he even says, "in my eyes you see fear" but in the captions and video the word "fear" replaced by the word "love")DT is almost killed by Complex. :[ he lives though, dw!!while that's happening, the angle comes to speak with Room and tells him to cry out. cry out and someone will hear and he will live yet again, stress and depression free (of at least reduced)

-> okay I'm gonna pause here cuz i needa eat :3

whoag this is interesting

[dzpenumbra]

12/13/22

Today has been a bit tricky. I noticed that Max's hyperthyroid meds were running very low last night. It's a twist applicator and it has stickers all over it, so it's like... impossible to see what level the ointment is at, and I don't know how to even eyeball the amount. And --- I'm getting frantic. I'm afraid that she's going to run out of meds. I probably wrote about this last night. I ordered overnight delivery, the pharmacy says it shipped and I did 1 day delivery, like I shelled out $30 for that shit... But I can't see tracking info, it just gives me an error. I'm just flying by the seat of my pants here, I am praying it gets here tomorrow before 1PM, or that I even have enough meds for tonight - let alone tomorrow morning, too.

It's the not knowing that gets me. And kicking myself. "I can't believe I didn't think to refill this sooner." "How did I not notice?" "I'm a bad pet parent." "She's going to have to be in physical pain, possibly get more sick, because of my inability to manage my life."

I have no idea why I am so afraid of the criticism of others, no one could kick my ass a fraction as bad as I kick my own ass every day. I don't think anyone has even come close. Like... when people try to make fun of me or mock me or criticize me... I'm not even exaggerating, it sounds comical. It sounds like a Kidz Bop version of an insult. Because inside my head... inside my head is an improv stand-up comedian who's been doing crowd-work in my head for over 30 years. Who knows all the ins and outs of my personality, every weak point, every insecurity, every chink in the armor to slip that dagger in. He rolls nat 20s in his fuckin sleep. So seriously, I have no idea why I give a shit about the superficial, juvenile judgements of outsiders when I have this demon to deal with.

Maybe that's why isolation is so hard for me. It's not being by myself, that's never been an issue, I kinda prefer it in a lot of ways. It's being stuck with that motherfucker. Having the only critique of my work being: "Welp, you just sank like 2-3 hours into polishing this piece of cool green mineral and... your dumb ass decided to use purple Sharpie to mark bevel lines. Purple. Remember color theory? Remember how that's a complimentary color? Like the highest contrast, most out-of-place color you could use? Yeah, did you... um... think to check if the mineral was porous or not? Nope, of course not, why would we do that... Now your hours and hours of work have resulted in a beautiful green mirror-surfaced mineral with big purple splotches soaked into it. Way to piss the day away dude, you could've done wood carving, you could've worked on that weird goat skull project, you could've drawn on your tablet. Now your arm is completely worn out. Way to go. <slow clap>"

When that's the only feedback you get on your work... How long can you keep going?

But with something like this, like caring for a loved one, like medical stuff, executive functioning stuff, life stuff. It's just whole other ball game. And I just feel like a complete sack of shit. Like how the fuck... Okay, you know what, I'm going to give the real second half to that sentence. Not "how the fuck do I keep fucking up so bad." Nope. It's "how the fuck do people keep track of all this shit?" "How do 'normal' people function?" It legit blows my mind, probably the same way it blows their mind that I can draw the way I can. I just can't keep up, I can't keep track of all this stuff. It took me like an hour to just figure out what the hell I was doing for dinner, and I was trying to do something easy. I tried to do Grubhub and just kept getting distracted, then I couldn't make up my mind, then the clock was ticking and I had to order before a specific time, then I think about how expensive this is getting and rabbit-hole on that for a while. Then eventually I'm just like "fuck it, I'm just making ramen, this is dumb." After like an hour of not being able to find anything appealing. It's obnoxious and it's like... every fucking day.

Can you tell I'm stressed out? XD

So... my cat's fate on this is really in the hands of the delivery people. This needs to be an act of faith. I did my best here. And I --- okay, you know what, I'm telling the story.

I used to be on Lamictal. I was on a bunch of different meds, one was some fucking anti-psychotic med they give to people in retirement homes (I was told after I got off it) that I was taking for the side-effects to help me sleep... yeah... Not even gonna tangent on that one, I'm sure you can go on your own personal journey of medical outrage. And I was on a titanic dose of Xanax just for daily functioning. If you want to call it that... All this from a psychiatrist who wore more makeup than any person I've met in my whole life. I was neurotic about my meds. I had the fear of God put in me with a bunch of side-effect scares - serotonin syndrome being one of the biggest, but not the only one. After not being able to move my eyes without vomiting for hours, trauma ground the lesson in my head that you do. not. fuck. with. meds. You take them on time. You do not miss doses. The side effects can be life-threatening, and you don't know how bad it is for you personally until you're there. So... what happened?

I forgot to get my prescription refilled. And it was a Sunday afternoon. I remember it clear as day, it was a cloudy afternoon, it looked like a storm was rolling in from the South. It was summer of 2019, probably around... May or June. It was like 4 in the afternoon, that was when my med time was and I just flat-out did not notice that I need a refill until I opened my med container thing and there was nothing there. I fucking lost my shit. I called every pharmacy I could find, nothing was open. I called places up to like 45 minutes away. I was driving around town while calling these places, saying "I'm in my car right now, I can be there in X minutes." Nothing, no one could help me. I panicked so much, I shit you not, I went to the police station. God, this is so embarrassing, but like... when you don't have any friends and no one picks up the phone, and no professional will help you... and you're afraid for your life... what do you do? I panicked. Maybe I should've gone to the hospital? Nearest one was 40 minutes away. Anyway, they didn't know how to help me either. No duh there, I guess. So eventually I just was out of options and I went home. This part of the story feels weird to tell because... well... in the past, it might have gotten someone into trouble. At least that's what he thought, I disagree, but whatever. I called up an old friend of mine that I recently reconnected with briefly. He mentioned he was on Lamictal at one point, we connected on that. I... asked him if he could spot me one so I didn't go into withdrawal. And, because he worked at a mental health facility (as a like... handyman, but still...) he was unsure if that would be okay. Like... it was weird, and he was afraid he'd get fired for it if anyone found out. He hasn't worked there in a few years so I feel okay telling this now, and it's not like I'm naming him or anything. See how fucking paranoid we all have to be nowadays?! This isn't even a controlled substance!!! Like I really don't think you can abuse Lamictal... But yeah, he bailed me out with one dose so I didn't freak out. And I guess that was like... one of the biggest friend moments I've ever had. Though I wish we could've been less afraid of the cops showing up or some shit. It's so stupid looking back at it, like... all of it. But, this is a big one for me.

So, I'm dealing with a similar story with my cat now... At least, it feels the same. Where, despite my best efforts, I have managed to overlook med details, forget to keep up with them, and I'm praying to any deity that will listen for her to not have to go an extended period of time without the med in her system. But it hits different. See, when it was me... it was fear of mortality, fear of death. With her? It's fear of guilt, of having to live a life with that blood on my hands. In my fucked up imagination, she's already dead from thyroid imbalances somehow cascading and leading to organ failure. And it's all my fault. And I have to live with that survivor's guilt for the rest of my life. Dark as fuck, right?

See, that's why I don't like isolation. I don't have anyone else in the world to say, "Hey, look, it's probably not as bad as you think. Let's do some research on this." So I can feel my feelings fully, which all stem in intensity from how much I care about her, and not deny or suppress them. But also make informed, logical decisions. God fucking damn is it hard to do both at the same time. And I see so many people take this insanely valuable asset - another human perspective, emotional grounding, compassion, comfort, reassurance, support, stuff like that - for granted. It's the piece that's missing for me right now, and I really don't know where to go to find it. I mean that. Instagram? Feels weird. Here? How? Dating apps? Feels even weirder, somehow. At this point in the list... I just start getting really depressed and resign to my current situation.

I wrote to my social worker today. I told him about the ADHD stuff. I tried to keep it brief and ended up writing at least a full page, it's hard to really gauge how much I write in a digital format, I guess that's why they're switching from "pages" to "minutes" as a way of telling how long a read things are nowadays. I'll see how he responds.

I'm afraid I'm just... too fucked up. I struggle with too many things, and I have for too long. The system doesn't seem to be designed to help people like me, I guess. Like... it's supposed to be like a social support system, social services, right? But everyone I talk to just gives me tips on positive self-talk, how to set healthy boundaries with people and encourages me to exercise and meditate. All of which I work on, and none of which are fixing the massive gaping holes in my life like... I've been living out of piles of cardboard boxes for like 6 years. It takes about a week for me to lose my structure and my dishes pile up to the ceiling. I build up my self-confidence into a freight train of motivation, then go to a job interview, feel like I did a great fucking job and then... it goes nowhere. Rarely even a call-back. Same for applications, I write this legendary cover letter, something heartfelt, conversational, personal, real. And I don't even get a fucking "sorry, we're not interested." And I try to set up my own businesses, and somehow... no one can help me with... any of them? Like... at all? It's fucking weird, it's like I'm radioactive. Naw. It's like I'm cursed. It's like I was hexed by the Witch of the Woods and everyone got the memo like 10 minutes before I showed up, so they hide the memo behind their backs and go "hey, _____, nice to meet you!" With a big fake smile that my naïve and insanely emotionally overwhelmed ass reads as completely legit, and then they nod and smile as I do my best to confidently, honestly stroll through the interview. Meanwhile they're checking the clock the whole time, because they made up their mind before I walked in the door.

I feel like no one. Not my family, not my friends, not therapists, not mentors, not potential employers, not potential business partners. No one wants to take a chance on me. And I don't know why. Maybe it's because I have too much to say? Maybe my constantly racing mind is too overwhelming for them? Maybe it's my strong emotions? Maybe they're intimidated by me? I have no idea, this is all 100% speculation.

Can you tell I'm depressed? XD

So yeah, I don't have huge hopes that he will be able to support me in the way I need it. And, despite browsing two dating apps every morning, I feel like if I were to date someone, I would seriously just be giving them a big list of chores. Like... dating me would be a job. Make sure he doesn't forget that the daily alert to start his sleep routine went off in his pocket, but he got distracted and wandered off to dig through a random box for something he hasn't used in 4 years. Make sure he's actually eaten food and drank water today. It's 2AM, tell him to go to bed. I would do these things for a girlfriend in a heartbeat. I mean that sincerely, and I have. I've actually been denied the ability to do that by my ex, due to her pride, and it made me feel like I wasn't allowed to be a good boyfriend. And it sucked. I know how much these and other gestures mean, especially to people like me. Like... it's life-changing. But it still feels like a tall order.

So yeah, difficult day. But I sanded down an agate today - it's really pretty, pink and purple and white - the best I could until my arm wore out, then I played Rimworld, smoked a tiny tiny bit and took a shower, then worked on sanding another piece of that green stuff, I still don't know what it is, I think it's fluorite but it's very grainy and opaque. And I worked on a small triangular piece of reddish... I'm guessing sandstone or something, it was very easy to polish, much more pleasant to work with. And here I am.

I'm gonna dig up a midnight snack. I guess this brain dump was helpful, I don't know, this kinda just felt like my depression jacking off. Like... I'm very conflicted on this. I have a lot of deep gut instincts that have been telling me for a long time that the solution to most of my problems would be to get in a healthy relationship with someone where I can help them in ways that they lack, and they can help me with the things that I struggle with. And every time I float this idea, people look at me like I have 40 heads. Like I should have 20 friends before I even start looking for a girlfriend. Well... who is going to go out and meet people with me?

I have always been the tag-along. Any time I moved, it was because I had a friend there. Any time I went to an event or a party or... anything, really... it was because someone I knew was there. I have always functioned atrociously when I don't have someone else there.

Someone was being really loud in the hallway and decided of all walls to bang against... to do it on mine... Made me jump. Still not used to being in close proximity to other humans. Maybe I don't function atrociously when I'm alone. I function differently. I don't think in social-mode. Because the majority of my experience on a daily level is... internal. It's in my head. It's not interactive. I shift purely into introspective mode. Where, when I'm in regular social interactions, I have outside stimuli to pull me out of my head. When that's absent, I have a tendency to go through gigantic creative growth spurts... I fucking wonder why... but also, all the shit you're seeing here tonight, that runs rampant. Like a cartoon of Halloween or some shit, all my demons and depressions and anxieties and panics and inner-critiques and all that shit are just swooping around and divebombing poor me as I'm just trying to go throughout my day. I think it's a BIG reason why people like me tend to impulsively just jump from relationship to relationship, without even noticing it, without even thinking about it. To avoid that. The alone scaries. Being stuck with their own thoughts. Alone.

So yeah, good night! Sleep tight! XD

I try so hard to end on a good note with these things, or at least a mic drop or something, but yeah. Fuck it. Today is just a weird one. Fingers crossed I get some good sleep, and here's hoping for a better tomorrow.

[outlandishscenarios]

I have to admit I have fallen into a rabbit hole of inspiration . I couldn't help myself q~q they were stuck in my head for days. I share the idea after many nights of hard work, with out further ado behold pirate Sun and Moon. I love pirates so very much and I had to, I really really had too. I spent nights thinking and building scenarios and I finally finished their designs.

And fear not I did make a y/n for this au cause why not really couldn’t help myself not to.

Im still working out the story and stuff for them all. I have so far is that both Sun and Moon are co-captains of a pirate crew and they each have their unique skills set to them so for example moon is left handed and a good swordsman, it's like he dances with his sword as he fights. While Sun is he's more defensive in swordsmanship, the one thing he's skilled at is his marksmanship he can shoot a cannon with precise aim and not only just cannons. Still adding bits to them and making ton more sketches to add more to them. I do have to admit there not animatronics and before anyone ask yes they are siblings which everything would be explained in some more sketches or I'll cave and write a story for them (more this option then anything really).

If your wondering why the belt like strap missing in moons second design drawing. I kinda forgot to write he takes it off before battle due to him not wanting to feel restricted in movement with it on, (he wears it for show cause it looks good on him). Yeah didn't see that till after I added the image here =-= sorry it's like 7:30 am I haven't slept and spent several sleepless nights for weeks doing these guys designs along with another au idea at the same time, not the smart decision on my end working day and night on these with no rest but that besides the point, they both been stuck with me so I'm sorry for dumping these ideas and designs out of now where.

Y/N was the fun one to do since I fiddled with different looks and design all while trying to give them a personality. This y/n is a hard work who trys to put above and beyond 100% and forgets basic things such as remembering to sleep or nap. I'm still working on the way things would go and how they join the crew but so far it's seems to be connecting.

The second idea was actually the first au idea but pirates won to be finish first, the other I'll send once I'm done with the final designs on both boys. Any ways have a great day every one or night or evening and be safe out there in the world. Apologies if they look blurry Tumblr made it fuzzy in posting q~q just tap on them to see them crispy clearer.

Edit: Moons sword placement has been fixed but I can't help but feel like in redrawing the sword I made it tiny then the original q~q. It will haunt me

[the---hermit]

17 people, 17 questions

I was tagged by @luthiest thank you!!

Nickname: people who know me since I was a kid call me Cri, but I like Cris better as a nickname. Also my family calls me krill, yes like the tiny animals eaten by whales.

Sign: cancer

Height: 1.68 m (I think?)

Last thing I googled: where was Caravaggio born, cause I did not remember

Song stuck in my head: Anywhere But Here by PVRIS

No. of followers: 4986 on this sideblog, which is absolutely insane

Amount of sleep: I always manage to get more or less 8 hours because although I was up very early I also go to bed quite early

Lucky number: 7 and 8

Dream job: I don't really have a specific dream job, never have, there's things I'd like to try like working in museums (especially in the more organization/ archival part) but since I know so little about how it actually works it's just an idea. I'd like to write a book some day, but again that's just one of the million ideas I have while I have no plan

Wearing: comfy clothes to chill at home: a pair of black leggings cause my usual sweatpants are being washed, and a dark red sweater

Movies/books that summerize you: Frankenstein by Mary Shelly, The Hobbit by Tolkien, tbh anything by Neil Gaiman, and I'll stop here with books cause I could go on for day. As for movies The Emperor's New Groove, The Road To El Dorado, lotr, Pirates Of The Caribbean, and I'll stop again cause there's too many movies that mean a lot to me.

Favourite song: all time favourites are Fear Of The Dark by Iron Maiden and The Greatest Show On Earth by Nightwish. At the moment I have been listening non stop to PVRIS, because after the new singels came out I have just gone down the rabbit hole again

Aesthetic: jars of dried herbs to make tea with, lots of blankets and pillows, ink-stained hands with too many rings on, home made baked goods and tea mugs that are constantly filled in, overfilled book shelves that are very specifically organized, blooming garden filled with aromatic herbs and vegetables, bees flying around, those moments when you stop and try to breathe as quietly as possible because you are looking at a wild animal that is starring at you, constant music playing in the background, marker drawings on the skin to check your tattoos plan for the future, too many books on the currently reading pile on the nightstand, pens and pencils everywhere, doodles in the margins of notes that have been copied over and over.

Favourite authors: Neil Gaiman, Jonathan Sims, Tolkien and Poe.

Favourite animal noise: my brother's girlfriend has a malamute that howls at people as if to talk with them, it's adorable and hilarious.

Random: I might legally be an adult, but few things make me as happy as stuffed animals. And ever since I was a little kid I never liked the ones that have bright unrealistic colours for some reason. I have a particularly soft spot for sloths cause growing up I had a sloth instead of a teddy bear, and it's still my most beloved object. I also have a pretty big collection of winnie the pooh's piglet plushes, but I don't have them on display anymore.

Tagging: I'll never manage to tag 17 people so whoever sees this and want to do this pretend I tagged you and have fun, then I tag @just-a-cup-of-anxietea, @oneanxiousstudybuddy, @bulletnotestudies, @tranquilstudy and @lau-and-history

[honeyhan-123]

A Slice of Heaven ~ Part One

Summary: When Jensen stumbles across Melody Meringue on a cam website, he just can’t forget her and his obsession blurs the lines between right and wrong.

Warnings: masterbation, camgirl, mention of anal.

Word Count: 1.7k

AN: This can be read as a standalone and has very little - if any - darkness to it. However, Jensen will start to turn dark in the later parts. 

Also this is my first time writing for Jensen so I hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

It all started with a crass joke made by Cougar. Like most of his jokes, Jensen was there but of it. He was used to it by now but something about the way Cougar patronised him about how he wouldn’t understand because of his inability to make a woman look his way just got under his skin. 

Even as Jensen made his way home later that night he was still seething. His anger wasn’t directed at Cougar but at women in general. Why didn’t they pay him any attention? He was just as fit as Cougar, just as smart as him too, probably more so given everything he could do with a computer, but women still ignored him.

He was too potent up to eat so instead Jensen logged onto his laptop and opened up a private browser. He hardly had to type in the first word before google knew what he wanted, offering up the direct link. He was greeted with a black screen and bold red words slowly started to appear. Hot single and lonely.

Jensen pulled his laptop to the edge of his desk and reached into the draw, searching for the secret little satin bag with one hand while his other scrolled down the website. He wasn’t sure what he was in the mood for tonight but he was having fun looking at all the choices. He was tossing up between a best friend threesome and a horny stepmom when a little notification along the top left of the screen caught his eye. 

Melody Meringue is about to go live. Click here to join. 

Jensen had never really been one for cam girls, he preferred to be able to to skip to the good parts but there was something about the little miniature image of you. There you were kneeling on your bed, a white babydoll covering your sensuous curves, and a golden mask covering the top half of your face. He couldn’t help but click on the link. 

It was free to join so Jensen figured you must be pretty new to the scene. You mustn't have amassed enough followers yet for them to charge a joining fee. 

You hadn’t started the session yet so while Jensen was waiting for it to begin he headed to the kitchen, his little satin bag in hand. He still had enough time to boil some water before you were meant to start, plus Jensen figured you wouldn’t get to the good stuff for a while, wanting to go through as many pay barriers as possible. 

When the water started to bubble over, Jensen opened up his most recent purchase. It was pitiful that he had had to stoop so low, relying on a flashlight to keep him company. Maybe if women weren’t so shallow and vapid, he’d have a real pussy to fuck. 

By the time his toy had warmed up enough and was once again sitting in front of his screen, you were ready to start. 

‘Well, it looks like I have a nice big turnout tonight. Thank you all so much, you really do know how to make a girl feel special.’ Jensen swallowed thickly. Your voice was so perfect, so sweet and innocent. He could already tell a girl like you didn’t belong on a seedy website like this. 

‘To any newcomers, I’m Melody Meringue and here’s how this is going to work. I’m here to please you, to make sure you have a good time and the best way to ensure that is to click on the little dollar sign down the bottom. There’ll be a list of actions I can perform for you, each with a different amount attached. However if there’s anything you’d like to see that isn’t listed just send me a message and I’m sure we’ll be able to arrange something.’ 

All of that seemed fairly standard to Jensen, despite never having seen a show like this before and he was surprised by how many messages there were already. They ranged from ‘c’mon Melody. Let Daddy see those gorgeous tits’ all the way to much more crude messages ‘I want to see that big purple dildo up your ass this time’. A wave of heat flushed through Jensen as he read that last message. He could barely imagine a sweet thing like you taking something up the ass but god, did he want to see it. 

With one hand Jensen fumbled with his best while his other filled the fleshlight with lube. He was already straining against his pants and he was desperate to get off with you.

He watched with eager eyes as your hands travelled up your luscious body and squeezed your tits together, letting the flesh pop out over the top. How he wanted to bury his face on your chest, kissing and nuzzling the tender skin there. Or slide his cock between your tits, coating them in his essence. 

Jensen had no idea how long he had been watching but you’d discarded the chiffon babydoll and bra you had one underneath when the first paywall came up. It was only $5 to keep on going and Jensen was definitely hooked enough to keep on watching. Plus his dick was now aching from how hard he was. 

He was brought back to your image as you knelt on the bed, your hands dancing along your nearly naked body. The lighting had changed slightly, becoming slightly darker and more sensual as you prepared to go further into your show. After about a minute of you teasing the audience, waiting for everyone to join back in. ‘It’s so lovely to see so many of you interested in little ol’ me. Well… really I guess you’re actually more interested in this pretty little pussy aren’t you?’ You gripped your cunt over the thin material of your panties and slowly gyrated your hips as you rubbed yourself. ‘Don’t you worry Baby. I’m gonna give you exactly what you want.’ 

Jensen let out a soft gasp as you barred yourself to the camera. He definitely had to admit you really did have a very pretty little pussy. Even from the angle of the camera he could see your slick as it dripped out onto your thighs. His cock was pulsing against his stomach, firm and flushed with precum dribbling down from the tip. He was so hard he couldn’t bear being untouched anymore so he gingerly eased himself into the little hole of his fleshlight, wishing it was you. 

He was so sensitive and the warmed silicone was almost too much as it contracted, pulling him in even further. His eyes were glued to you as you moved on the bed, leaning back so that the camera had a clear shot of your fingers swirling around in your slick, rubbing your precious little clit as you let out moan after moan and Jensen turning his volume up to the max, not wanting to miss a single sound coming from you. 

Jensen had never felt this desperate to cum. He was so close to typing a message to you, begging you to cum for him so he could too. He refused to do it before he got to see the pleasure course its way over your body, but the familiar tightening in his gut had a different idea in mind. 

He watched enamoured as you slipped one finger into your wet hole, and then another one, scissoring them together while your palm brushed against your clit. You were a heavenly sight as you fingered yourself harder and faster and Jensen was right on the edge about to let his own release overpower him. He was so freaking close, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the toy desperately but suddenly, your image was gone. 

And just like that, so was Jensen’s orgasm. 

He huffed as he approved the next paywall. It was slightly more expensive than the first but Jensen didn’t even pay attention to the price, he needed to see you again too badly. 

When the stream resumed you were once again kneeling on the bed, this time with a cute little rabbit in your hands. You were lathering it up with lube, pumping it generously and Jensen twitched in excitement. He wanted to see your perfectly manicured hand wrapped around him. 

You pouted towards the camera as you continued your work, pushing out your plump lips. ‘I wish you were here so I could have your cock but instead I guess I’ll have to settle for this one.’ Jensen could hear the faint squelch when you sank down onto the bulbous tip.  Only the small flared base poked out and you smiled rakishly at the camera. 

‘Tell me Baby. Do you wanna see me fuck myself like this or are you gonna let me turn on the vibrations?’ Jensen eagerly reached for the keyboard, typing his first message of the night. 

Of course you can Honey. I wanna see you come apart for me.

He hit send before he could see anyone else's messages. He wanted to pretend it was only you and him in this show. 

You must have read his message on your small tablet because a smile lit up your features. ‘Thank you Baby. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. I’m already so close.’ 

The soft hum of vibrations echoed through Jensen’s speakers and even louder were your moans as they fell from your lips. Jensen slid the fleshlight over his cock in time with your bounces and if he squinted he could almost pretend you were right there in front of him, bouncing up and down on his cock. H

He could tell you were close as you reached up to grasp your tits. ‘I’m gonna… please. Please let me cum Baby. God I need to. Please!’ You begged the camera and a string of approval filled the chat. ‘Thank you Baby. I -’ your sentence broke off half way through as your orgasm washed over you. Jensen could see your muscles tense and convulse as the pleasure rushed its way through you and he felt his own orgasm crash over him. His breath came in spurts as he filled the toy with his seed. 

You stuck around a little longer, thanking your patrons and reminding them of your times and Jensen made a little mental note, promising that he wouldn’t miss any of them. 

+

Tags will be added in a reblog.

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

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Thanks for reading!

[killerbananas]

Blitzed

Stoned!Connie fucking each of your holes to teasing perfection.

🔞 mdni | masterlist | 797 wc | afab!reader x Connie

Warnings: smut; dubcon - drugs/inebriation, semi-rough sex, Dom/sub tones, light degradation/humiliation, shameless self-indulgence, vaginal penetration, oral, spanking, throat fucking, overstimulation, anal, anal creampie, ??lmk

AN: This is an old work of mine previously posted on tumblr.

“I’ll admit I’ve always had an appetite and marijuana always makes me ravenous. I’d pretty much put anything you set in my hand in my mouth.”

“Oh really?*

"Connie, what-ah hah, I see what you did there.”

He’d plopped his perfectly flaccid length into your open palm, shorts pooled right around his ankles.

“You know what? I’m not even mad. I walked into that one and who the fuck am I to judge what fills my hunger? You look awful appetizing, hotstuff.”

“I dunno. Kind of makes you sound like a desperate slut to me. Now, what about ah- ah- okayokayokay.”

You’d sucked down the plump head of his cock to stimulate him into fullness before he could keep his train of mirthy ribbing. Connie’s groaning into your mouth and holding onto your shoulders while the life leaves his body in the confines of your mouth, primarily slicked up with the precome he readily spills like a self-lubricating fuckstick just pumping through your swelling lips.

“So sloppy now, baby. Sure seems to help when I jam the back of your throat like this-ugh-huh? Hard to hear you when your mouth is full. Who taught you manners, young lady?”

You pop off to laugh into giddy madness at the random audacity of your partner.

“You silly rabbit. What are you even saying?”

“C'mon. You know… and! You know what they say about how rabbits fuck, right?”

He makes suspicious hopping gestures with his wiggling eyebrows and tilts his head to the bedroom.

“You wanna teach me some manners, sweetheart?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

And he’s sweeping you off your giggling feet and into the bedroom to bend you over his knee and get distracted petting your ass when he really meant to spank a lesson into you. He can’t help it. His mouth always gets involved and the exposing view of your cunt just gets him every time. It’s like a magnetic pull and he’s a helpless sap stuck to the slick folds of your cunt as if it’s a nourishing joie de vivre glutting his soul. He just keeps latheing away at your labia until you’re a quivering, sobbing mess from coming by torrentially cresting concurrent waves that crash with each electrifying stroke.

You shove his head away a little harder than intended and instantly yank him up by tugging under his shoulders to kiss you and delight your mouth. It lines his naked cock up with your cunt and he doesn’t hesitate for a millisecond before he’s rutting along the soaking wetness you offer him. He eventually stops playing in the puddling liquid he draws and starts opening you up with the girth of his dick with a few searching, exploring jabs that almost land him in the wrong hole.

Or you’d have called it the wrong one had you not quickly realized just how focused he was when he wanted to draw back and keep flirting with penetrating your tight ass. Which, of course, after dipping into the pooling cream of your pussy, he was plenty lubricated to start doing exactly that while you held your cheeks obediently apart for him. His pervading member nudges into the soft muscle of your blushed skin like velvet steel parting your expanding, blossoming bud. You can barely keep your eyes open, overwhelmed by the physical presence of his dick and the euphoric honeysyrup of the weed.

And when you think you’re finally moored in the onslaught, you feel the soothing coverage of his headphones eclipsing your hearing. The marijuana finally helps loosen your body’s tension, letting him freely pump into the taboo hole he tries to shove every dense inch of his cock through. He’s languidly fucking at a pace helplessly attempting to follow some kind of rhythm, but instead melds to your body while rutting in overstimulated, quivering strokes that plunge down deep at an angle that bursts bright white solar flares behind your eyelids. His lanky fingers sneak beneath your hips while he mounts you so perfectly that there exists not a pinch of space between your handspread cheeks and his contracting musculature that strings taut with flexing tension spiderwebbing the tawny skin of his pelvis.

He’s just grinding the head of his cock wherever he can bruise it inside your body, not even pulling out a millimeter, but stimulating his dick by humping away lazily into your plush hole. He’s thankful for the breeching pain at the beginning of the crest when he climaxes. He’s begging for relief of the crash when he plummets, streaming jets of come so harshly that his balls ache brutally with the severe contracting. He’s kind enough to drag you along with him the entire time as his fingers dance the same overstimulation across your clit while he bites into your shoulder.

Taglist: @aotwarriorsimp @alex--nya @animediplomat @antoxsmith @armoredpotato @bakidose @bakunny @beffjurky @casuallyck @chaotic-nick @dearbaji @dilferwinsmith @erwinsbaby @eyesucket @fairypiku @fandomficsobsession @hinasakuino @i1k @icecreamranwich @interfectio-mortales @jikuuu @kireirengoku-main @koulakoukoula2003 @lavenderdaisyhoney @mybadluckshouldmakemefamous @nathalunalune @notgoodforlife @peachysunrize @phoenixpype @pockcock @sweetforlevi @pocks-waifu @seychellse @shigarakiapologist @simpsarzie @sinnerofthewalls @soaringmirror @sparklekitteh @stigandr-the-cat @syrma-sensei @reiners-milkbiddies @tiffanyy-21 @theinariakuma @tohailalegacy @tonaken @torapologist @we-are-so-close @witchycamisado

[desfraisespartout]

10 People You Want to Know Better

Thank you for the tag @birdmenmanga <3

Relationship status: Single.

Favorite colors: Quite a few honestly. I like most shades of green and blue. But there is also raspberry pink that i can't look away from.

Favorite foods: Alfredo linguini

Song stuck in my head: Many. Depends on what I'm in the mood to listen to and to listen to in loops. One that remains good to get stuck in my head is Blue Fields from Final Fantasy 8 or Female Turbulence from Trials of Mana (Seiken Densetsu 3). (I have to admit I've started listening to the Genshin Impact OST despite not playing the game. Lovely music !)

Last thing you googled: Expiring date for condiments such as mustard... because of food poisoning i had little more than a week ago (I'm all better now). So, the fridge in under watch.

Time: 3:41 AM (I should probably go to bed... but I was still going down the rabbit hole that is YouTube)

Dream trip: Mmmm... I haven't travelled much to be honest. But as soon I get my driver's licence (one day), I'd love to visit the provinces of my country. And maybe see friends from over the border, and maybe overseas.

Last thing you read: Final Fantasy XV: The Dawn of the Future, the DLC project that got downgraded to a light novel. But I enjoyed the read.

Last book you enjoyed reading: That would be mangas... XD Magilumiere Co. Ltd is always such a treat to read. But I've been surprised by the new manga Ghostbuster Osamu.

Favorite thing to cook/bake: Apple pie in a ramekin. Quite easy to make and tastes delicious. You can use any fruits really. Just need butter, flour, a bit a water, a pinch of salt for the dough; and cornstarch and sugar (or cinnamon or vanilla) to coat the fruits in. (The only thing I don't like is getting butter or anything oily on my hands because I have a hard time washing it off. But the smell and the taste of that small sized pie make it worth it.)

Favorite craft to do in your free time: Drawing and crochet. Reminds me I haven't crochet in a while.

Most niche dislike: Mmmm................. I don't know ? I guess people vapping/smoking inside there apartment and just won't open THEIR windows ???? Like, I can smell you through the walls and the floor and it's driving nuts... Why do I have to open MY windows ???? But since I've stopped complaining since it didn't change anything and do open my windows, then there's the neighbour from the next block going out for smoke while walking and then STANDING close to my window. Why can't I just smell my own apartment ???????

Opinion on circuses: Never been to one. The video clips I could see of the Cirque du Soleil continue to impress me. The performers are athletes !

Do you have a sense of direction?  Yes. I love to explore my options and find landmarks to help me locate myself. If time permits, I would go for walk surrounding my home/school/work, so I can update my mind map of where I am. Nowadays, it's mostly home/work. I try to remember the main roads/avenues and how they relate to each other so I can find myself in case my phone dies or something. In the cities, that would be knowing the alternative routes to get back home if my subway line malfunctions and I need to take the bus. I feel proud when I can help someone orient themselves.

----

Let's see. I'd like to tag @magicmetslogic @ennobaka @jer-tan @ruidosdeperro @electric016 @jeepers-its-the-void @riinoaheartilly @dq9 Also, tagging any followers to would love to answer as well <3

Have a wonderful day everyone !

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn't been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I've changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN'T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part one: You're here right now. :)

Part two: Over there, pepperoni. :)

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

—--—---—---—----—----—----—---

I sighed, smiling as I watched my brother gather flowers. It was the early morning, I had to go out hunting soon, but then again, it wouldn't hurt to keep him company for a while.

"Nal," I called, it was a nickname short for his name, Kunal. An odd name, to say the least. Mother told me it meant Lotus, her favourite flower. 

His strawberry blonde hair swayed towards me, a smile forming on his face. He held a couple of lily's in his hands, his blue eyes glittering. "Y/n!" he said back, waving towards me.

I slowly walked towards him, squatting down next to him. He gave me a lily from his makeshift bouquet, humming. "Look at what I got!" he exclaimed.

I chuckled, roughly putting my hand on his head, messing with his hair. He groaned and in retaliation, he pulled on one of my small braids. It was something my father used to do to my hair when we went off to the woods. I used to hate it, but now I wear it every day, quite funny, really.

"Ow—hey, I just fixed that you little—" I let out, pulling my hand off his head as he let out an unprovoked yell. "AHHH MOM, Y/N'S SWEARING AGAIN!" 

I sighed, managing to pry him off me, our heads turning towards our mother, she had the same hair and features as my brother, maybe that's why she preferred him over me. 

"Kunal, get inside, time for breakfast!" she called, waving him over. Nal said a small "bye-bye", waving at me before running to our mother who welcomed him with open arms. 

She looked at me, I could feel her icy glare. But beyond all of that, her eyes showed a little bit of concern, as if she's afraid. It made sense, district 12 wasn't the kindest of places, illegal hunting is dangerous and she was my mother, after all.

I watched as my brother gave him the lilies, a smile forming on her lips, her eyes wrinkling. My hands tensed a little, I passed it off to the chilly breeze, not wanting to think about this in the early morning. "Bye," I muttered, turning away as I went towards the woods.

My hands gripped the rough bark, scaling up a tree with little to no effort. I arrived at a certain spot, reaching into a hole where my hunting equipment was hidden. 

I pulled out a small set of thin, throwing daggers. I looked at it, gripping the leather strapping on the handle. This was the reason, the reason everything went downhill that day. 

Yet I still keep it, to honour my father. This set was one of the only things he left when he was executed in the most painful way possible. I let out a hitched breath at the thought of it, holstering it on my belt. 

I pulled out a hunting bow, something my friend gave me. I wasn't the best at it, I was better at throwing more than anything. It was worth learning though, it was best used when hunting smaller game like rabbits and squirrels.

To my right, was a nest of mocking birds. I whistled a basic 3 tunes to them, which they listened to and replicated. My lips formed into a small smile, waving at the birds before I leapt to another tree.

My father taught me how to traverse the forest through trees. I remember falling every time I leapt from tree to tree, my father laughing as he caught my hand. Sometimes I'd just fall to the ground, resisting the urge to cry as I insisted to try again.

He and I have a lot in common, I took more after my father more than I did my mother. Both physically and mentally. While my mother was more grounded, my father would never shut up about freedom and life without the capitol.

It wasn't something ideal for life like this. Any word or action against the capitol and you can get executed right on the spot, something I had to learn the hard way. 

I've always found the ground limiting, the coal dust in the air quite suffocating. Unlike in these heights, where the air was fresh, cool. You saw so much more, moved so much more. It was a taste of freedom, something I've always wanted.

I arrived at a location hidden away from unwanted eyes. Landing on a large rock ledge that was reachable from above if you leapt or swung far enough. Of course, there were times where I didn't stick the landing and ended up in the thicket of berry bushes, ending up with several, stinging, unwanted "friends".

"I'm early for once," I huffed, grinning as I laid down the rock. I put my leg on top of the other, using my hands to support my head. A small, yellow butterfly landed on my nose, making me smile.

"Hey, owl eyes," A voice boomed, making the butterfly fly away. My brows furrowed as I looked in the direction of the voice. "Finally stopped daydreaming of burning the Capitol down?" he teased, grinning.

I shot him a look, "Mhmm," I hummed, "Daydreaming of throwing them off a cliff instead," I said, making him snort. 

"And how do you plan to do that?" He asked, smirking. I threw a small rock at his forehead, scoffing. "Shut it, Gale" I retorted.

He rolled his eyes, a mischievous look on his face "I was going to give you some of this bread I shot, but since you're like that, I guess I'll just have to share this with Catnip," he said, holding up a loaf of bread, an arrow pierced through it.

I laughed looking up at the sky, "Oh come on, don't be like that, Gale," I spread my limbs across the surface of the cool rock. "Don't pick favourites, but— between me and Kat, who's the lucky favourite?"

Gale hummed as if thinking deeply. "Definitely Catnip," he answered making my head turn sharply towards him. I shot him a glare, a look of betrayal. He let out a bark of laughter, just in time for Katniss to arrive.

He held up the bread once more, "Hey catnip, look at what I shot," he said. "He said that two times already," I groaned, raising a finger.

Katniss laughed, the bread handed to her. "Mhh, still warm," she commented, sniffing the crust of the bread after she had pulled out the arrow.  

If I hadn't known any better, I would say that they were siblings. Straight black hair, olive skin and same grey eyes. Most of the families who work in the mines resemble each other this way. That's why my family has always stuck out like a sore thumb, like Katniss' mother and sister. 

My mother and brother with strawberry blonde hair, my brother, in particular, having my father's blue eyes. Father and I had bright copper-red hair, I shared my mother's green eyes.

From what I've heard my father used to be a merchant, selling various herbs, fruits, plants and meat until he's settled down here for my mother, began working in the mines, along with illegal hunting.

The peacekeepers and the mayor let it slide though, They crave fresh meat just like anyone else in the district. Our district was looked down upon, the capitol didn't really pay attention to it. This is why we can get away with these.

My train of thought was interrupted by a berry landing on my face, making me scrunch my face as Katniss finished a joke with a Capitol accent. The two always told me I was easily distracted, a disadvantage when it came to hunting. 

Though I'd say it's an advantage when I'm not busy daydreaming I tend to spot small animals, like that one bird flying west of me, or that small worm crawling next to me.

Gale tapped my hand, which was dangling from the rock. He handed me a piece of bread, some cheese spread on it. I sat up, one of my knees bent, resting my elbows on it as I thanked him. 

"We could do it, you know?" He said quietly, effectively drawing my attention, as well as Katniss'. "What?" she asked. I only remained silent, biting into the bread as my other foot dangled from the rock, swinging around.

"Runaway from the district, live in the woods, you and I, maybe Y/n too if he wants to, we could make it," He said, I nodded, swallowing a healthy portion of the bread. "You know I want to," I interjected. 

Gale sighed, "If only we didn't have so many kids," Of course, they weren't our actual children, though they might as well be. He has two little brothers and a sister, Katniss has a sister and I have Kunal. There's also our parents, another mouth to feed.

My mom doesn't really have a source of income, so I'm left working the majority of the month, only taking a break at least for a day. Though the three of us split our games, It's never really enough. We still have times where we would curl up on our cots on an empty stomach. It happened far more often than any of us would like.

With my father gone, I was left to provide for my own family. These forests are practically my home, the only thing missing was Kunal and my mom's icy stares.

"I don't want any children," Katniss responded plainly. "I might if I didn't live here," said Gale. 

"But you do," She responded irritably, I glanced between them, chewing on my bread slowly. "Forget it," Gale snapped, sighing,

It would be a lie if I haven't thought of this. They call me a daydreamer because of this, I'd much rather dream of being one with the mocking jays, flying freely without worrying about the Capitol's prying eyes than face the fact that that would never happen.

A trait passed down to me by my father, as I said. We hate the fact that we are treated like caged birds, though used to it, we'll never be comfortable. Unlike my mother.

Sometimes I wonder what drew them to each other.

"What do you want to do?" Katniss asked, making me perk up. "How about we fish at the lake?" I suggested. They both nodded as a grim thought settled in my head.

Kunal turned 12 this year, his name is on the ballot for today, Reaping day. Though only once, there's a slim chance that he might get chosen. He could barely stand against an angry, small mutt, running to my legs whenever he gets scared.

If he gets chosen, I wouldn't know what to do. Surely my mother would resent me even more, why was I her only child left then? No, it wouldn't get to that, surely not.

I clenched my fists as we travelled to the lake, feeling the anger bubble inside me. I remembered one of the many reasons I despised these ridiculous, power-hungry people. 

"I'll destroy them one day, don't worry, pa" I whispered, though I'm sure Gale and Katniss heard me. They just knew.

—--—--—

Words: 1.8k

[kari-a-la-tari]

The (Unneccessary) Lore of the WG Spanish Dubs

Aka me being like this meme for an entire post

OKAY so a couple of weeks ago I had just learned that there existed a Spanish version of Wordgirl called “La Chica Supersabia” which is honestly super cool cause who doesn’t wanna hear their show in a different language?

But alas, this ended up taking me into a much deeper rabbit hole than I was expecting and it’s honestly pretty interesting so I thought I’d share it with y’all!

DISCLAIMER: I am not an expert by any means nor do I intend to come off as one, this is simply an elaborate essay of what I’ve found through my informal research. I will also be translating anything in Spanish to the best of my extent, so I apologize if I mess up a bit with the wording since it’s not my native language.

So then *places a baseball cap with glued lightbulb on my head* let’s get started shall we?

Okay so first things first, there are a couple of select episodes of La Chica Supersabia (I’ll use LCS from here on) available on the internet. The most reliable source that I’ve found is on an old Facebook account here where a fan would upload LCS episodes based on when they aired. However, the only episodes available are a select few from season one.

Now this got my mind thinking “Hey, what if there’s more episodes?” So naturally, I started scoundering on Google (like the rat I am) to see if there was indeed more. And according to this one site there are only two seasons of LCS that were dubbed.

Translation: In Latin America, the first season premiered on Discovery Kids August 3, 2009, while the second season premiered on the same channel January 11, 2010, being the only two seasons issued. (Source)

However, later on I discovered that there was some mislead in that info because someone else found a Spanish episode that was from season 3, which doesn’t make sense because why would there be another season available when it clearly says that they technically shouldn’t exist? (Btw I tried finding it myself cause I did see that episode before but for some reason now I can’t find it dhdvvdbdvd 😭)

At first I thought maybe this is just some info added from a fan. After all, that statement was posted on a Spanish Wikipedia page so it is possible. So I began looking for other articles that talked about the Spanish dubs, but they all said the same thing. Well, until I came up with this site that said two very intriguing things:

Translation: The series actually had 3 seasons and is dubbed in Caracas, Venezuela. On May 2012 the series stopped running on daytime hours and was removed from the programming one year later, on June 17, 2012. It is unknowns if it will be aired by another channel or come back to the Discovery Kids programming, besides only the two first seasons were dubbed in Spanish. (Source)

I was a little bit confused here with the wording because it still didn’t confirm my original questions; if anything it left me with more. But then I read the next section below which got me completely off track.

Translation: The series received negative critics and complains on behalf of parents of families in Latin America that claimed that it wasn’t appropriate for the objective public of Discovery Kids. Without doubt in the U.S. the series had been well received and even won an Emmy award for Jack D. Ferraiola, writer and coproductor of the series together with the creator of the same show, Dorothea Gillim, who declared the following in respective to the series: (Source)

Now this one took me by a whirlwind: WTH why was this version hated by people in Latin America while it’s adored by everyone in the U.S.?? And I watched some episodes of LCS and while the dubbing is pretty funny (lol) there wasn’t anything inappropriate about it. For the most part they stuck on script with the original episode they had to dub.

So I dove even deeper...

And o h m y g o d there is an answer to this.

Translation: The program premiered in Latin America on August 2009 on the Discover Kids channel, aiming at pre schoolers. Although the channel gave a lot of promotion for the show during the final months of 2009 and the majority of 2010, at the end of the year they decided to change the programming to nighttime hours because the show received a lot of critics from parents saying that the show was too “violent” and that it encouraged kids to lie to their parents (due to the obvious fact that Becky had to give an excuse everytime she had to leave to turn into WordGirl and save the day), and they complained constantly on the message boards now deleted of the channel. The program was eliminated completely on June 2012, without doubt, PBS maintained the Spanish dubs so that they would use for SAP (Second Audio Program) in the U.S. in a different studio (Dubbing House in Mexico and later Lorry Post in Miami, FL), but the program no longer returned to Discovery Kids until August 2014. (Source)

And DUDE no y’all this was just a complete hilarious yet ridiculous slap to the face. I mean..what the, why was that the reasoning as to why it was hated so much? Just cause of some literal PG kid friendly cartoon violence? And what do parents mean when they say it teaches them to lie to their parents?? I mean with all due respect, who was Discovery Kids target audience they had in mind vs. what it actually was? Because if there actual audience was very very young kids, they okay sure I can understand the need to point fingers at them in that sense. But if it was for slightly older kids (8-10 years old), then I think that parents can probably show kids at that age the reasoning behind why Becky lied in the show (not to mention that most kids at that age can understand what’s going on for the most part).

“Now is this actually true?” some of you may ask, which is understandable since this is coming from a wiki page. Well, I think it’s about time I put another disclaimer: sadly for the most part, the majority of these sources that I’ve attached have broken links when it comes to their references. And the ones that aren’t broken don’t mention anything about the topics that have been discussed here. But there are some smaller sources I’ve found here (look at the last three comments) and here that do indeed confirm that the show was canceled due to the force of parents.

However, the current grey area I’m in still is on the Spanish dubbing listing. See, I originally thought that there were three different dubbings according to this one post below (M&M Studios, Dubbing House and Lorry Post). I even thought I cracked it since according to this chart below the rest of the seasons were under the Dubbing House studios! However, it turns out that one of the studios Lorry Post doesn’t actually exist. Like nothing related to dubbing came up at all when I searched it up.

Translation: Dubbing Studio 1 - M&M Studios (Seasons 1-2). Dubbing Studio 2 - Dubbing House (Seasons 3-8). Dubbing Studio 3 - Lorry Post (Season 8 - final episodes). (Source)

And then that’s when I took a harder look at this website and realized that it’s part of a Spanish Wiki page called “Propuestas de Fans de Doblaje” (Fan Proposals for Dubs). *insert facepalm emoji* And just...I honestly feel so dumb that I didn’t notice that detail when I did my initial research cause that would’ve saved me a lot of time 😤. Anywho so that explains the Lorry Post mystery, but then lies the other question: do the other dubs exist?

Well, this is where I draw the line. See, on that same wikipage, it mentions that LCS had completely different voice actors for each of the dubbings. The first dub (M&M) is from Venezuela and after looking at the VA’s, they can be traced back to LCS. But after looking at the VA’s for the second dub (Dubbing House) in Mexico, there is nothing related to them and LCS or WG. Not even on movie databases.

“Now are you gonna give up on this idea?” you may ask. And the answer is......

No.

Why? Well, it’s mainly because there is a compellingly set of evidence that proves that the first two dubs do actually exist, which is...

THIS VIDEO, which shows that there were not one, but two variations of the LCS Spanish theme song. The first one is the Spanish version, and the second one that plays is the Venezuela version. And if you can remember, there were 2 dubbings of LCS; one located in Mexico (Dubbing House) and another In Venezuela (M&M Studios)!

Anywhosole, that is where I conclude this elaborate essay of mine. There are still a couple of loose strings here and there that I wanna check out myself but I’ve already tired myself out with this essay. I hoped you liked seeing me lose my mind speculate on the LCS episodes! This was honestly pretty fun ngl, maybe I’ll try doing this again in the future if something else interesting pops up! If you have anything you wanna add or maybe point out something that I may have forgotten, please by all means bring it up!

[vs-redemption]

For your soft Sunday...

I present some Semi (cause why not)...

--Semi hearing you start and stop strumming on your guitar. Finding you trying to compose the melody to a song. He sits at the piano and starts intuitively finding the right notes. Eventually singing along with you.

---Mattsun giving you scalp massage after got out the shower. Just resting your head in his lap while his fingers work magic on your scalp, moving to your ears until it a full facial massage. (What! You know I gotta throw in a shirtless Mattsun😂)

---Atsumu chuckling softly at you while carrying you to bed cause you just a "tipsy" but you only had one glass of wine.🤣

---Sakusa posing patiently for a reference photoshoot for your next painting. You seen those renaissance paintings where the model is casually laying down. Yeah you get your very own Adonis😍. Omi does get take some pictures of you since your his very own goddess.

---SAKUSA, Using omi as your personal travel pillow on the plane. You are as comfortable as possible, while he listens to audio book. A smile on his face and his arm wrapped around your sleeping form.

--Oikawa, pillow talk soft giggles, soft kisses, little jokes...soft sweet caresses until you fall asleep.

---Bokuto laying on top of him while y'all watch a Netflix movie. Not really. Fake watching the news basically. Instead y'all are holding deep conversations about each other.

--Kuroo, you and your child are playing pirates in the living room...you gave up trying to cover your equally loud hyena laugh when your child made Kuroo walk the plank. Laughing like Ed from the lion king😂

--Osamu car wash gone soft. He sprays you with the water hose. Why? Cause you decided to pour ice cold water right down his back. So he returns the favor using the water hose. He grabs you before you could run away. Laughing and giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

I'm sure more will pop up...

I don't think about Semi too often, but playing a little duet with him would be so fun. I love the idea of you two helping each other out by filling in the blanks when you're stuck on a melody or lyric choice. Somehow, you both play off each other's creativity until you finally end up with a masterpiece.

whoa whoa wait... he's massaging me after HE got out of the shower?! 🥴 I need you to know that I never understood why people got all hot and bothered over Mattsun, like it really stumped me, but then you started sending me these ideas and now I think I'm falling down a rabbit hole.

I feel like this Atsumu one could go either way. It's always one of you that has just a bit too much to drink 😂 and the other one having to deal with the consequences. At least he's a good sport about it.

Now I'm thinking of that fanart of Sakusa I tagged you in. Could you actually concentrate on painting/drawing with him posing for you all pretty like that? I feel like I'd give up a third of the way through and just pounce on him. heehee I would definitely use him as a travel pillow though. He might act disgruntled about it at first, but we know he secretly loves it.

Yeah, Oikawa is such a sweet talker. He could probably seduce me completely with his words alone. I hate that. He's such a sap when he's in love though, and I'd totally be up for some cute cuddles with him.

Bokuto! Yeah, it would probably be hard for him to stay focused on the TV when you're with him. He loves you so much and he just wants to talk to you and make you laugh and just rant about the things you both love. Ah! I love him ♥

This is such a wholesome little family moment! I AM thinking of Kuroo dressed as a pirate now though and that is definitely SOMETHING. I'm dying at both him and his s/o having the hyena laugh though. What a wild household.

Another interesting fact is that I was all ready to commit to Atsumu as my preferred twin but then you started coming at me with this Osamu stuff and the tables have been turned completely. Having a water fight with him sounds so fun and I would love to see that playful side of Osamu!

Send in some ideas for soft sunday!

[nitewrighter]

Hiya mun, sorry to ask for one, but could you please write a short ficlet of either any of the ow cast or your ow fankids spending time with their pets, if they have any?

I need to write more Spiderbyte Parent Content. And of course I should write more Smol Marti content.

Also Camille Saint-Saen’s “Aquarium” lives in my mind rent free.

-----

It was the sixth night in two weeks that Marti’s gasping had woken them up. Widowmaker had learned to tune her ears to Marti, and despite how quiet she was in daylight hours, Widowmaker had become aware of the small girl’s shuffling around the house. She felt Marti’s large, deep brown eyes on her, peeking out from around walls and doorways. Marti talked to Sombra in Spanish, but had shrunken back when McCree tried to speak to her, clutching close to Sombra’s legs. At six years old, the top of Marti’s head came up to about Sombra’s hip, but Widowmaker had to listen for her so she didn’t trip over her. Marti had spent the first week in their apartment curled up on a blow-up mattress in Sombra’s study--a space that was more or less rendered walk-in-closet size by Sombra’s multiple monitors and servers---while Symmetra and Torbjorn took out a wall of their apartment to expand into a new room for her. She slept in the pink glow of Sombra’s monitors as she worked, to the faint tapping of keyboards and clicking of a mouse and the warbling of screens projected by Sombra’s own augmentations. Widowmaker wanted to tell Marti how much she understood her, how much she understood the instinct to make yourself smaller, how much comfort lied simply in being in Sombra’s presence as she delved her digital rabbit holes.... but Marti was still wary with her, still distant. It was Sombra who had found Marti that bloody night. Sombra who held her hand and walked her to safety. Sombra who held her on the dropship ride back to Gibraltar, stroking her fingers over Marti’s black hair. Sombra who spoke gentle comforting words to her that she, as a crisis orphan, never got the chance to hear herself. Sombra the guardian. Sombra the godmother.

Widowmaker and Sombra had painted Marti’s room together, a pale orchid pink (Sombra had managed to get Marti to pick out the color swatch) and they had sat on the floor together, puzzling over the parts of a twin-sized captain’s bed and a small desk. Once furniture was all assembled and the scent of drying paint faded enough, Marti moved in, hesitantly, skeptically brushing her hand over the quilted magenta Official Meka bunny-printed comforter and pillowcase that D.Va had donated. Sombra tried to decorate the room with little mementos of Dorado--One wall had a short banner of purple papel picado etched out with floral, star, and sun designs, as well as one in the center of the banner that had Marti’s own name, ‘MARTINA’ in ornate letters hanging over Marti’s bed. The opposite wall had a mulberry-colored macrame wall hanging that Sombra had gotten in a Dorado marketplace. There was a small framed photo of Marti and Soledad on the bookshelf headboard of Marti’s bed. Overall, the room was a cozier, more toned-down adaptation of the hot-pink glitter-addled ‘princess’ rooms that Sombra and Widowmaker never had in their own childhoods--Sombra by virtue of being crammed into an orphanage, and Widowmaker by virtue of her own parents’ brutally avant-garde tastes. Finally, Marti sat on the bed, looking up between Sombra and Widowmaker.

“...Is it okay?” Sombra had asked.

Marti gave a short polite nod and Sombra smiled. Marti gently nudged Sombra’s arm, prompting Sombra to bend down so Marti could whisper in her ear. After a beat Sombra huffed, smiled, brushed a thumb over Marti’s cheek and said, “Para esto estamos,” softly before drawing herself back up to her height. “She said thank you,” Sombra said to Widowmaker.

“I gathered,” Widowmaker said, but felt the distance in the politeness.

And now Marti was waking them up again with her gasps--high pitched sounds with how small she was, creaking with sobs that were suppressed by hyperventilation. Pretty and brittle like thin tree branches whipping in an autumn wind. 

Sombra broke out from Widowmaker’s arms, stumbling, clumsy with sleepiness, and quickly paced into Marti’s room. Widowmaker propped up some pillows in their bed and sat up, resting her bare forearms on her sheet-covered knees as she waited. In the other room, Sombra was talking low and quick in Spanish to Marti, and Widowmaker made out the sound of Sombra demonstratively breathing slow and deep, trying to get Marti to sync her own breaths to her. Those high pitched breaths slowed. Widowmaker pressed her fingertips into the skin of her arm, her lean dancer’s muscles not yielding against her own grip. I should be in there, she thought, I should be helping her. One more person who lost everything to Talon. One more person who lost everything to a fight that had nothing to do with her. But I’m a stranger.

----

“...there has to be more we can do,” Widowmaker said the next morning as she gently eased a fried egg onto a slice of fresh baked baguette smeared with avocado.

“She’s got her first vid conference with that doctor that Ziegler looked up for us next Wednesday,” said Sombra, flicking through a few pink screens at the table, sipping her coffee,  “I checked her out. It’s solid.”

“Mm,” Widowmaker set a plate in front of Sombra.

“And I think we know better than anybody, stuff like this isn’t cut and dry,”  said Sombra, biting into the toast and pulling away quickly to avoid getting egg yolk on her chin as she , “She’s going to be dealing with this for a long time.”

Widowmaker was silent, easing her own fried egg onto her own avocado-smeared baguette slice. She listened to the slight warbles of Sombra’s screens as she cracked pepper over the sunny yellow yolk, then brought her chin up with some resolve. “So we make new memories,” she said.

“Mm?” Sombra glanced up from her screens.

“For me, it was looking up Gérard’s photos, it was... rebuilding, but for her... she’s stuck in a strange place with this--this fear bouncing around in her and so little experience in the world. So we make new memories. We let her see that, even though this thing happened to her, that this world is... is... bright. And... and good.” The words felt a little alien in Widowmaker’s throat and her shoulders were bunched up as she set the plate aside. Widowmaker had spent so long in such a dark place that all the defenses and instincts she had built up in that darkness were completely discombobulated by her own desire to let Marti know safety and happiness. She felt Sombra’s eyes on her, bright and studying.

“So... a day out?” said Sombra, opening up another screen.

A shuffling of bare feet on linoleum came from down the hall and both Sombra and Widowmaker glanced up as Marti entered the kitchen and clambered up into a chair that was just a little too big for her, but she was a little too big for a booster seat.

“How do you like your eggs?” said Widowmaker looking over her shoulder at Marti, “Um...” she gave an uncertain glance at Sombra and then pivoted, pointing at the frying pan with her spatula. “Huevos?”

“Fritos?” Sombra said to Marti, gesturing with her thumb at Widowmaker before pointing at her own plate.

Marti nodded.

“Same thing for her,” said Sombra, looking at Widowmaker.

Widowmaker quickly sliced off another bit of baguette, smeared some avocado over it, and cracked salt, pepper and little squeeze of lemon juice over the avocado, then quickly fried the egg to golden yolk and lacy-browned-edges perfection. Sombra was talking to Marti in Spanish as Widowmaker worked but Widowmaker only made out about 75% of it. Something about Sombra’s computers and... Luz nocturna... night light?

Marti gave a furious, stiff-lipped shake of her head and craned over to whisper something with an unusual amount of forcefulness into Sombra’s ear. Sombra’s shoulders slumped and she said something conceding in Spanish. Sombra gave a “welp” glance over to Widowmaker and Widowmaker understood immediately. Marti didn’t get her hyperventilating nightmares back when she was sleeping in the glow of Sombra’s computers in the study, but she had refused Sombra’s suggestion of a night light. It was all Widowmaker could do to bring Marti’s plate over and take a seat at the table with her own breakfast.

Marti bit into her avocado toast sullenly, not making eye contact with either of them, though her eyes widened as she chewed and she dug into her food with a reassuring eagerness. Widowmaker smiled a little. I’m good at that, at least, she thought, then cleared her throat awkwardly. “I... was thinking... we could all have a day out. Do something fun.”

Marti looked up from her plate, then over at Sombra. Sombra half-translated and Marti seemed thoughtful.

“We could...” Widowmaker gave a flailing, ‘help me’ glance over at Sombra, “We could...um...”

Sombra quickly flicked a pink screen into existence and rapidly scrolled down. “Go to the aquarium!” she blurted out.

“Yes,” Widowmaker latched onto that, “The aquarium.”

“Aquarium?” Marti repeated the word, the latin roots providing a stumbling middle ground for her.

“It’s... educational!” Sombra eked out the words hesitantly and gave a glance to Widowmaker. She smiled at Marti, “I think you should be able to see there’s more to Gibraltar than the watchpoint.”

Marti gave a bewildered glance between them. At that point there was a strange rapport that arced between the three of them, sharp and swift like lightning, all of them fumbling in the dark trying to figure out what it was that families did. Happy families. They had to do things, didn’t they? And aquariums existed, didn’t they? Sombra was looking at her screens. There were children in the promotional pictures--this was a thing kids did, right? Marti gave a hesitant nod and Sombra gave a grin to Widowmaker.

----

“Gibraltar’s artificial reef started as an initiative in 1973, sinking ships in the mediterranean sea to give wildlife structures to colonize and breed in,” a primly dressed tour guide was standing in front of a massive tank that featured fake pier beams and what appeared to be the ragged front half of a fishing boat covered in coral, barnacles, and seaweed. Some skates and fish lazily drifted about the tank, and a few finicky crabs were crawling around the wreck and the rocks. “Overwatch’s ‘Ecowatch’ division’s efforts to mitigate the environmental impacts of the Omnic Crisis, as well as new sunken wreckage from the conflict itself, resulted in an unprecedented explosion of biodiverse marine life!”

Marti was swaying a little where she held Sombra’s hand, not really listening to a tour guide whose words she only understood a little bit. Widowmaker gave an uncertain glance to her own bluish nailbeds. She had gotten a lot of color back in her recovery, but she was still wary, for both hers and Sombra’s sake. Getting here had been easy enough, just Sombra ‘borrowing’ the Watchpoint’s crappy old truck (pretty much anyone who might object was off on a mission), and a short drive from there, and of course Sombra had hacked them tickets, but now Widowmaker became acutely aware of just how strange the situation was now that Marti was in their lives. In any other situation, civilian life would be a mask--her presence here would be merely idling time away before or after a mission, but now she was coming to terms with the fact that people were here and this was their lives, this was their normal lives, and now, though her own life was still far from normal, this was her life too. She and Sombra were both dressed to blend in, of course, Sombra parting her hair and wearing a sleeveless turtleneck to cover up her neural implants, and Widowmaker wearing large coral-framed glasses to distract from the yellowness of her own eyes. Marti stood out more than either of them in a magenta and white sundress and chunky black velcro sandals. Widowmaker smiled a little. The looseness of the sundress and the thickness of the sandals’ straps against her feet seemed to emphasize Marti’s small size, and Marti had doggedly wrangled her thick, wavy black hair into two uneven pigtails that swayed about her bare brown shoulders every time she turned her head. It lent a certain wildness to her appearance that Widowmaker couldn’t help but admire. At the core of all that timidity was a furious, stubborn survival instinct, and it simultaneously filled Widowmaker’s heart with love and compassion, and broke it, for all her desire to have Marti look to her like she looked to Sombra.

But Marti wasn’t looking at either of them, now, those big brown doe eyes were nearly black with blue-white highlights by the light of the aquarium tanks as she stared into a tank of moon jellies, transfixed by the drifting, alien forms. Widowmaker wondered if she was reading too far into Marti’s apparent fascination with the cnidarians’ utter indifference to each other. Marti was still hesitant to interact with the other kids on the watchpoint, which was fair, considering her shakily growing grasp on English and the fact that she was two years older than Rei and four years older than the twins. They were able to watch holo-programs together, at least, but actually playing was a bit awkward. But then Widowmaker’s train of thought was interrupted as Marti lead Sombra along again and Widowmaker trailed along with them. Marti’s silence seemed at home here, the conversations of the crowd only a low murmur and most people resigned to just stare at the fish in the different tanks as they drifted by. Marti made an audible gasping noise as they entered the tropical fish section, yanking Sombra along to point at the more brightly colored fish. 

“...I like this,” Sombra said, as Marti squatted in front of a tank where several leafy sea dragons wove through a mass of seaweed and seagrass, “It’s so easy to forget sometimes, you know? That there’s a world outside the fight.”

“That there’s a world outside that ‘eye?’” Widowmaker glanced over at her and Sombra quickly tensed and looked around, scanning the crowd.

“Sorry--” Widowmaker started.

“No--it’s fine...” Sombra shook her head a little, her eyes fixing on Marti, “Now I have one more person it can target... as if there weren’t enough monsters in the dark already.”

The word ‘dark’ caught Widowmaker. “What you were saying to her earlier... she doesn’t want a night light?”

“She said they’re for babies,” Sombra huffed, putting her hands on her hips, “But if her own stubbornness is just going to keep her hyperventilating like that...”

“It’s awfully dark in here, non?” Widowmaker mused.

“Well, yeah, ‘flash photography bothers the fish’ and all, but most of the light comes from the tanks anyway---” Sombra started and then caught herself and then looked at Widowmaker, “...what web are you spinning now?” she said, a smile pulling at her lips, but Widowmaker just smiled in turn.

The afternoon trailed on in that strange suspension of time one only gets in aquariums, the tension between wanting to see everything, yet being able to stare into the blue forever and the minutes slipping by like so many bluefin tuna. Marti served as the major marker of how much time was passing, going from brisk little jogs, to a more steady pace matching Widow and Sombra’s, to tiredly trailing a couple of steps behind them. . They rested on a bench against the acrylic glass walls of the aquarium’s shark tunnel, watching as rays and a massive angelshark drifted overhead, the ribbons of water-refracted light shimmering across the floor. Marti first leaned against the glass, staring up between Sombra and widowmaker,  then slowly, ever so slowly, thick lashes drooped over her eyes and her head nodded down slightly. The glass of the tunnel squeaked under the bare skin of her shoulders as she drifted to the side, her cheek smooshing against Widowmaker’s shoulder as her weight slumped against her.

Widowmaker froze at the contact, glanced down at Marti with wide eyes, then her eyes flicked over to Sombra, whose face scrunched up with a stifled giggle. Widowmaker just gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Marti’s face. It wouldn’t be cut and dry--it wasn’t for her, and it wouldn’t be for Marti... but she could be here. She and Sombra would both be here.

-----

“So...? What do you think?” said Sombra as Marti’s eyes flicked between different fish tanks at the pet store. A few days had passed since the aquarium.

“Are you sure?” Marti looked over her shoulder at both Sombra and Widow, her words were halting, her accent thick in her consonants, but she was getting more confident, she wasn’t grabbing Sombra to whisper in her ear as often.

“It’s a big responsibility, but we can all help,” said Widowmaker, bending down to Marti’s level, “We’ll read all the books, and work together to make sure it’s very happy with us.”

Marti pressed her lips together tight and gave a short little nod with a very serious, “Hm!” and Widowmaker smiled at her determination. 

“So... which one?” said Sombra, as Marti turned back towards the fish tanks.

Marti surveyed each of the tanks very seriously, her brow furrowed. Several minutes of dead silence passed before Marti pointed to one nearly-black betta with purple-blue undertones and said, “I like this one.”

Both Widowmaker and Sombra stooped down next to Marty to look into the tank. The betta flared its fins at all three of their faces looking through the glass and Widowmaker softly snorted through her nostrils. 

“Why this one?” said Sombra.

“He’s pretty, and um--a little scary,” said Marti.

“Scary?” said Widowmaker.

“He’s a guard fish,” Marti said very firmly.

“Oh, a guard fish, of course,” said Widowmaker.

-----

Another two weeks had passed when Sombra stirred in Widowmaker’s arms in the middle of the night and she slipped out of bed.

“Sombra?” Widowmaker sat up in bed.

“I’ll just be right back,” Sombra whispered.

Curious, Widowmaker slid out of bed after her and trailed behind her down the hall. Sombra was at the frame of Marti’s door, peering in. Marti’s breaths were steady and barely audible amid the sound of a fish tank filter. Sometimes they could hear Marti talking to the fish, which she named Nochito, 

Nochito stood stark against the bright green plants in his tank on Marti’s desk. The faint blue-green glow of the fish tank itself made the pink of the room look more purple in the night. 

“...I keep waking up thinking she might...” Sombra trailed off and Widowmaker gently draped an arm around her shoulder.

“We’ll be here if it happens,” said Widowmaker, gently kissing Sombra on the corner of her jaw. 

“Yeah...” Sombra said, putting her hand over Widowmaker’s, “Yeah, we will, won’t we?”

They watched Marti sleep for another few minutes, her black hair splashed across her pillow in dark whorls. Sombra’s eyes flicked back to the faint light of the fish tank.

“Gotta say, guard fish is way cooler than night light,” said Sombra with a wry grin at Widowmaker. 

“It suits her,” Widowmaker said with a gentle smile.

“She’s a fighter, too,” said Sombra.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 33

“Fumi?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me a story.”

“A story?” he says, glancing over. In the vent there’s nothing but the soft squelching of our cleated feet and a drip-drip-drip of a flowing river of sluggish, phlegmy mucus running along a divot over on the left. I nod.

“Yeah, a story. Like, about work. Ranger stuff. I’m sure you’ve got some good stories.”

He laughs. “A few, maybe,” he concedes.

Getting across into the actual flesh of the Pit from the wreck of the LVC had been easier than either of us had thought it would be. The gantry we had been looking for was long gone by the time that we got to the bottom of the LVC, with the only evidence of its passing being a couple of rigid metal rods and torn, rusted grating, but above us was our lucky break – due to the way the Visitor Center had fallen, it had actually cut into the Pit’s gullet on the way down, leaving a long, jagged scar of porous tissue in its wake and, at the very bottom, a gaping, partially-healed hole leading directly into what Fumi said was once the trail downwards to the Gastric Sea. It was a little hairy to begin with; the wound had ruined the previously neat trail, and the Pit had begun to reclaim it. Paths branched off, seemingly at random, that our maps had no record of. Here and there we’d see skittering things darting away from our flashlights, fleeing into pores or deeper, smaller vents we couldn’t see into.

Just copepods, Fumi had said when I asked. Harmless unless you’re alone and they’re feeling particularly brave or hungry. But even so I noticed that he kept his hand resting comfortably on the butt of his pistol, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice, and so I emulated him, and kept a wary eye behind us as we picked our way through the nest of tunnels and warrens and veins.

After I while I became afraid that we might hit a dead end and that we’d not be able to get through to the trail proper, which Fumi said would curve up and around down to the ballast bulbs, but just when I was getting to the point where I thought I might say something about it the vent widened out and Fumi had let out a triumphant whoop. We’re on the right track now, he had assured me, pointing to where we were on the map, and I had let a little involuntary shudder of relief pass over me because finally, finally we could really get going.

Now we’re clambering through a stinking vent that once housed a pedestrian trail. The thing Fumi hadn’t really mentioned is how long it would take. The path that looked so easy and short was in actuality four or five miles, a solid two or three hour hike in an environment like the Pit. My leg is holding up alright so far, especially now that I’m doing less running and jumping and falling, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do more than a couple days’ worth of this. Even with the boot I put my foot down occasionally and get a worrying, bone-deep twinge like a jolt of electricity, feeling like it’s running up some magic conduit from my heel all the way to the top of my head.

You can still see the remains of the trail here and there. Plastic placards, partially dissolved and stained beyond legibility, peeking out from behind masses of tumorous flesh. Rusty chain-link here and there, little strips of it grown over by pale, moisture-slick skin. If you look too closely at anything down here you shudder.

“Alright, I’ve got a story for you,” Fumi says. “Most of the work we do involves escorting supplies down to the deeper installations within the Pit, looking after science teams, making sure nothing and nobody bothers the few little extractions operations for stuff like ballast and bone plates. It’s a lot of wildlife control, basically. Very, very occasionally we’d do interdiction stuff. People get in, try to hide out in here, do all kinds of crap. I remember hearing a story about some guys who were running a drug lab in a trailer out on the very edge of the restricted area on the surface. Only got busted because Makado had to rush out somewhere in a hurry for something or other, I don’t remember what exactly, and she took a helicopter and they happened to fly right over. That really made her crack down on the topside ranger teams, let me tell you.”

“Topside?”

“So basically there are two teams,” he explains. “Us, the Sergeant’s team, we’re Venterial Ops. Anything underground, inside the Pit, we handle. That’s why we have Elena, for example. I don’t know if she told you but her main specialization is cave diving, she used to be in the Coast Guard. The other team is larger, they hang out in the other barracks topside. Overland Ops patrols the surface of the restricted area, handles anything that doesn’t concern the actual Pit itself. A lot of people don’t realize this but the restricted area isn’t just, you know, the Pit, it covers a whole lot of the ground above as well. You need manpower if you’re going to patrol it. With me so far?”

“Yes,” I nod. “So the overland team, they never go down into the Pit?”

“Oh, they train in it occasionally,” Fumi says, waving his hand. “But not to the extent that we do. It’s expensive and difficult and time-consuming just because the Pit is not a particularly good environment to make mistakes in. What if you can’t recognize a digestive pit or a triocanth sign? I mean, there are so many ways to die down here if you’re careless, especially now that we’ve cut down on our impact down here so much. If you’re stuck down here your options are either getting to the Control Center, getting to one of the very few listening stations and outposts we still have down in the depths of the Pit, or trying to call for help. That’s it.”

“So it’s easier logistically to have two separate groups like that?”

“Yeah, exactly. It hurts the overhead a little but if everybody was Pit-trained they’d be spending even more on them, so…”

“Right,” I say. There’s a long stringy mass of fibrous tissue stretching from the roof to the pitted ground, and I duck around it, let Fumi pass behind. “So what was the story?”

“Oh, right. So we were escorting some science folks down to that listening station in Oyster’s Shame. Shift change, essentially, except they way they do it is two weeks on, two weeks off. They rotate like that, make sure nobody’s spending too much time down in the Pit, that kind of thing. There are health checks that they have to do. If you’re in Science, half the time you’re up in a lab over in the science building doing egghead things and the other half you’re down here in a lab doing egghead things,” he laughs.

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” I suggest, and Fumi nods.

“Exactly. So we’re taking these guys down, pretty simple trip, one we’ve all done dozens of times. One of the science guys is new, and he is just absolutely gushing over everything he’s seeing down here. Some sort of environmental scientist type, real nerd. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a nerd but sometimes you just – certain people fulfill the stereotype more than other people, right? Anyway, Crookshank decides to play a prank on the guy. We’re taking a break for lunch and Crookshank pretends to lick a nerve ending in the wall. Now, first off, don’t ever do that, but Crookshank is – was – a maniac and you can’t keep him down. This egghead sees Crookshank do it (of course, he didn’t actually do it, just pretended to) and starts to freak out, but Crookshank is like ‘oh, it’s cool, it enhances the flavor in these MREs, you should try it.’ And of course Slate gets in on it, because Slate has – er, had – the mind of a middle-schooler and can’t resist clowning around, and together they gradually convince this nerd that it makes your standard run-of-the-mill MRE taste orgasmic.”

“Why shouldn’t you lick nerve endings?”

“Have you seen anything down here that you’d want to lick?”

I try unsuccessfully not to think of Elena and end up just shaking my head.

“But on top of that,” Fumi continues, “Pit nerve fibers can do weird things to the human nervous system. Not usually permanent or even really harmful things…just weird things. A big one was an ability to see into the ultraviolet spectrum. You might have heard about that; they made some big breakthroughs in optics in the 80s thanks to experiments with Pit nervous tissue. But there can be weirder stuff too – occasionally you’d see some spooky things going on in the Cord thanks to all the nerve tissue there. Intrusive thoughts, ‘occult’ stuff like objects levitating, seeing things out of the corner of your eye, ‘hauntings…’ in some places down here there are still little alarms that go off if they read too much nervous activity. So you can imagine that it might be a bad idea to lick one.”

“What happened to the guy?” I ask. The further we’ve gotten the more horribly rank the air has grown, to the point where we both have put on our helmets. The path we’re following opens out after a torturously twisting, intestine-like track and we find a series of bulbous, swollen sacs protruding from the floor and the walls, filled with a noxious, chunky liquid a lot like raw vomit. I can feel my gorge rising and I fix my eyes resolutely on my feet and end up just taking shallow breaths through my mouth for the long ten or so minutes it takes for Fumi to guide me through to the other side. We squeeze through a rough, suppurating sphincter and find a set of stairs, so rusty and dilapidated they might as well have come straight out of a Silent Hill game. Here and there long strands or trickles of flesh have melted or grown through the chain-link cage surrounding the stairs and pooled in rough, saggy, wrinkled puddles on the floor. It’s such an unspeakably bizarre image that we both stop and stare at them.

“I bet those feel…absolutely horrible to step on,” Fumi says.

“I’m not stepping on any of those,” I murmur.

“And with the cleats…” Fumi continues.

“Oh god,” I say, wrinkling my nose. A particularly swollen one seems to glisten at me. “Why does it do that? Why does it grow stuff like this?”

“Why does the Pit do anything?” Fumi shrugs, jerking his head forwards. “At least we’re on the right track. This is the staircase down to the ballast bulbs.”

“Is it even safe to walk on?”

“Do you see a different option?”

“Fair point,” I grunt. I take a ginger step forward and put my weight on the stairs, cringing inwardly. My foot nudges against one of the nodules of flesh. I can feel it pressing against me through the fabric of the suit. I grimace and take another step, and then another. “Come on,” I tell him. “Let’s just get this over with.”

We get a couple of flights down before I remember. “Oh, right – what happened to the guy?”

“Which guy?”

“You know,” I say. “The nerd who licked the nerve ending.”

“Oh, right. It made him see…something. Gave him the fright of his life, ended up pissing himself in his suit.”

“Oh,” I say. I had been expecting something funny but this just seems sad. Fumi reads it in my face, nods at me.

“Yeah,” he says. “Elena actually got really pissed off at Crookshank for that one. They’ve never liked each other very much but that little stunt kind of pushed her over the edge. They got in a shouting match right there and the Sergeant had to break it up.”

I can’t stop myself from smiling. “That’s my girl,” I murmur.

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“Uh, well it turned out that she was sleeping with the nerd and that’s why she was so heated about it.”

I look at Fumi for a moment and then burst out laughing. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious.”

I think about it and then shrug. “What?” I ask. “Am I supposed to get jealous?”

“I just find it so strange that you aren’t.”

“That’s in the past,” I tell him. “I don’t care what she did before we met, I care about how she treats me. I mean, she has to have treated me pretty well to get me to risk my life for her like this.”

“True,” Fumi admits. “Or maybe you just don’t value your life very much.”

Before I can think of a response that would be both truthful and a denial of the accuracy of that statement, Fumi takes a step forward. As he puts his weight down on the next step the staircase groans sonorously and we both freeze. I feel a little stab of fear piercing the bottom of my stomach and reach over quickly to grab the guardrail, for all the good it’ll do me. We stand there frozen for a minute, maybe two, waiting for the entire thing to collapse, and when it isn’t forthcoming I slowly, gradually unclench my insides and put my weight back on the step.

“Jesus,” I murmur.

“Yeah, these are probably a little unsafe.”

“You think?”

The next four flights go by quickly. The blobs of flesh haven’t spread this far down, or at least they haven’t yet. The meat beyond the retaining walls, buckled in places, is a strange, waxy tone that makes it look like it’s fake. If it didn’t shudder and writhe in time with whatever alien rhythms govern the Pit’s heartbeat I’d think it were a model.

Ahead of us, rising like vapor off a bog, I can smell the stench of ballast, combined with the familiar meaty Pit-smell pervading the air, along with something earthy and sour that lingers at the back of my throat. It makes my heart race and my gorge rise simultaneously. That accidental encounter with Crookshank in the ballast bulb…I had never been so scared or so turned on in my entire life. The memory of it leaves me vaguely nauseous.

“You doing okay?” Fumi asks, nudging me.

“I’m fine,” I murmur through gritted teeth. I do not want to throw up in this helmet. I take a deep breath and then let it out. I’m okay. It’s going to be fine. Elena is down here and the ballast totally healed her and everything is fine, just peachy-keen. We’re going to kiss and hold hands all the way out of here and then…

“Do you really think she’s down here?” Fumi asks.

“Where else would she be?” I say. “It’s either here or she’s dead somewhere and I’m still trying to be optimistic at least.”

Fumi says something else but I’m not paying attention. We’ve finally reached the landing, and past a pair of crooked, bent, rusted doors is something that must have once been a utility corridor for servicing the machinery used to keep the ballast pools running. The entire corridor is so thickly covered with dense, clustered mushrooms that I can scarcely see any surface that isn’t completely blotted out by coarse white fungous flesh.

“Shit,” Fumi murmurs.

The acrid, weird smell is stronger down here and I’ve finally recognize it – it’s the reek of those horrible, throat-coating spores from the nightmare of the fungal jungle deep down in the Pit’s rancid guts, where Marcus and Peter and Erica and – and Klaus had died.

Where I had killed Klaus.

Thinking about it makes me shiver. This past day – there hasn’t been time to think. Everything has been sweeping me along with the same force and velocity as a riptide. I haven’t had time to – to acknowledge it.

Unbidden, the image of him clapping his hand to his throat springs to my mind. The gun had felt like a dead weight in my hand. It hadn’t even felt like my hand, it had felt like I was controlling it at a distance, like I was playing a video game. I remember the way his eyes had widened in shock and how he had staggered back, the knife clattering out of his trembling hands. He had tried to swipe at me with it even then but the strength had left him.

I’ve already sealed my suit. I hadn’t wanted to waste the filters or the battery before by running the rebreather but these spores aren’t going to give us a choice. I don’t want to be hallucinating again.

At the end of the hallway is a door. It takes the two of us some serious effort to pry it open, levering at the rusted, mossy handle, but once we get it open we stumble into what must have once been one of the main baths. The fungus grows here too, in greater size and density. There are things living here; a dozen little things scurry and hop and slither away from us, darting away from the reach of our flashlight beams. Some of the mushrooms, the bigger blue-veined ones with the caps that look like they’re melting, visibly deflate as we rake our lights over them, puffing out clouds of hazy spores.

“I’m not sure that Elena’s here,” Fumi says softly, looking around. I feel my insides tighten even as he says it.

A massive hole has broken open in the tile over on the far end of the pool. I think I see something within it move. I reach over and tug at Fumi’s sleeve. “Fumi,” I hiss. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“Over there,” I point. “Inside that big fucking hole, I thought I saw –“

“Whatever you saw,” Fumi tells me, “it wasn’t Elena. If she even came down here, she’d have taken one look at it and then turned right around and left. You said that Erica took her helmet. Look at all these spores. Do you think that –“

“God damn!” something cries out of the murk and darkness down at the far end of the pool. The milk-white ballast seethes incontinently beneath the wan glare of our flashlights, and I can feel the bottom drop out of my stomach. “God damn!” it repeats.

“That’s Elena,” I say.

“Roan, no,” Fumi says. I shoot him a look like he’s gone mad.

“Listen to her,” I tell him. “That’s her voice! I’d know it anywhere.”

As if to punctuate my argument, the voice cries out again. “Oh god! Oh fuck!”

I charge forward, stomping into the ballast with reckless abandon. “Elena!” I call out. My heart is jumping in my chest and I have to consciously force myself not to grin madly. Elena is here! God, she’s here! I was right, she did come to the ballast bulbs, she did –

“God damn!”

“Roan, stop!” Fumi yells from behind me. I can hear him starting to stomp after me but I don’t have an iota of brainpower left to devote to the question of why he’d want to stop me. The ballast ripples around my legs, but it’s relatively shallow, at least this end of the pool. I hope I don’t have to swim in it to get to her.

“God damn!”

“Elena, I’m coming!”

“STOP! Roan, it’s a –“

My foot catches against something in the ballast and I lose my balance. I try to catch myself on my hands but the pool deepens just ahead of me and I end up pitching face-first into the murk. “Goddam,” I mumble. I don’t know what I tripped on, it feels like a log or something, but that doesn’t make a ton of sense to be down here. What is –

The log wriggles to life and wraps itself around my ankle. I have enough time to let out a small, terrified squeak before it whips me bodily off my feet and starts tugging me through the ballast towards the hole in the tile. I hear a splash from behind me as Fumi wades it, and I realize that I’m screaming.

Another rope or vine or tentacle joins the first, and this one fixes around the thigh of my other leg. I reach down, fighting against the thing’s pull, and get my hands on my pistol. I jerk it out of the holster so fast that I almost lose it, flick the safety off, and then fire off three rounds into the darkness lurking where the tentacles converge, but I don’t think I hit anything. Another tentacle seizes around my wrist and though I try to get loose, I end up dropping the gun.

Fumi calls out from behind me but I can’t pull myself together enough to answer him. Another tentacle has fixed around my midriff, another around my neck, and it squeezes so tightly that almost immediately I see stars bursting in my eyes and everything goes off-kilter like the world’s been tilted.

My flashlight skews across the face of the thing that’s tugging me in and for a moment I can’t comprehend it. It looks like a…a flower, all folds and delicate fleshy petals, but the colors are off. I can’t think, I’m not getting enough oxygen.

A mouth opens in the center of the flower, unfolding like a piece of origami. I see delicate, foot-long, razor-sharp teeth, almost translucent in the light.

The tentacles around my neck and leg loosen, and then drop me entirely. I smack into the surface of the ballast and rapidly sink under. I’m still too woozy to do much about it other than flail my arms helplessly. The air is hot and stuffy in this helmet and I can feel a tingle somewhere along the side of my ribcage, accompanied by a stinging wetness that makes me realize my suit has a hole and ballast is leaking in.

I can’t think, my brain feels like it’s been unplugged. I’m going to drown inside my suit down here and I can’t do anything about it –

The last tentacle loosens and slips away and then I feel hands tugging at my arms. Without thinking I cling to them, the slippery ballast making my grip clumsy. I batter against my rescuer, trying to get a grip on them. There’s a horrendous noise filling the air, making the ballast vibrate with the force of it. Amid the torrent of sound I can hear someone yelling at me, telling me to stop, and when I crack my eyes open I see Fumi tugging me closer to him and trying to swim us away at the same time. I get my arm around his waist and we both dip under.

“Fuck this,” he says when I come up next and then he cocks his arm back and punches me in the side of the head. I go limp immediately and for the next few minutes I am not quite unconscious but I am definitely woozy enough to let Fumi drag me bodily out of the pool and then pick me up and carry me out of that horrible room and back to the staircase we came in at.

I manage to hobble up two flights of stairs on my own before I stumble and Fumi has to let me lean on him to get up another two. Up here the air is clearer and I can finally pop my helmet and breathe in deep, grateful gulps of it without feeling the spores trickling in and lining my throat. I sit down heavily on a step that isn’t encrusted with bloody moss and lichen and give Fumi a bleak look.

“I’ve been so fucking stupid,” I mutter. Fumi tries to put his arm around me but I shrug it off. “Goddam it, I’ve been so stupid.”

“Roan –“

“Fuck!” I shout. It echoes up and down the rickety staircase, my own voice reflected back at me in a mocking tone. My neck and arms are still sore and if I close my eyes I can feel that horrible thing’s tentacles or vines tugging tight around my throat and choking the life out of me…

“Roan,” Fumi tries again. “You aren’t stupid.”

“Elena was never down here,” I say. I can hear the cheerlessness in my voice. “She’s probably dead someplace ten minutes from the Cord. I should never have –“

“Roan!” Fumi barks. I look at him, not bothering to wipe my eyes.

“What?”

“Roan, you have to stop trying to throw your life away,” he says. His eyes are dark and serious and suddenly I find I can’t meet his gaze. “No, look at me,” he says.

“I’m really not into this paternal bullshit,” I start, but Fumi takes my head in his hands and very gently turns it so I don’t have any choice but to stare into his eyes. I almost slap him. At the very least I snarl out the beginning of an imprecation, but Fumi just stares me down. “I don’t –“ I start, but he shakes his head.

“Your life isn’t over,” he tells me. “You still have plenty to live for.”

“But if Elena’s dead –“

“Fuck Elena! Even if Elena were dead you’d have something to live for. When we find her do you think your relationship with her is going to last very long if you’re just hanging your entire existence off of her?”

“I – “

“I don’t need you flaking out on me right now,” he tells me. “When Ellis died, I –“

“Ellis?”

“Oh, fuck it. Forget it,” he says, standing up. “Do whatever the hell you want, you want to be a clingy son of a bitch when we get to Elena, be my goddam guest –“

“No, Fumi, I’m sorry, I didn’t –“

“Forget it, I said,” he tells me. My cheeks are burning. I’ve gone and broken the camel’s back. Of course him and Ellis were close, but…it doesn’t matter.

“Fumi, I didn’t mean –“

“Elena’s alive,” he says, his voice harsh. “Or at least she was, recently. Because ballast sirens can only repeat sounds they’ve heard. She probably pried open a door, took one look at that place, said ‘god damn!’ and ‘oh fuck!’ and left, and the siren’s probably been parroting it back for the better part of a day since then, hoping something would be stupid enough to wander into reach…”

“How was I supposed to know?” I yell. “How was I fucking supposed to know? I’ve never heard of a fucking ballast siren! I don’t know what they do!”

“I was yelling after you telling you not to go!” Fumi shouts. “If you had just fucking listened to me you wouldn’t have –“

“Yeah, well you fucking punched me!”

“I punched you,” he hisses, taking a step towards me, “because you were fucking panicking. You were going to drag me down with you and if I let you, we both would have died back there. I had to make you go limp, so I punched you! Of course you probably would have been okay with the two of us dying, given your fucking martyrdom fetish –“

“I don’t have a martyrdom fetish!”

“Then fucking act like it!”

“Fuck you!”

“You need to calm the fuck down,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “I can’t believe you talked me into this damn-fool errand. I had no idea you were such a –“

“Fucking leave, then,” I tell him. There’s a part of my brain screaming at me to stop, but I can’t stop. I’ve already let the words out. “If I’m so much of a fucking burden and too much of a loose cannon then fucking leave. Just go back up. I’ll find Elena myself.”

Fumi’s face falls. When he speaks his tone is gentler. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to –“

“Just go!” I yell, pointing up the stairs. “Just fuck off!”

“Roan, don’t do this.”

“Just leave!” I say. My voice is thick and raw and I realize that I’m crying. “I can do this myself! I don’t need you!”

“Roan, you –“

“Go!” I shriek, and then before I know it I’m clambering to my feet and pulling up my sleeves, clenching a fist and getting ready to swing at him. Everything’s taken on a red tinge, even redder than normal down here in the Pit, and the horrible throbbing thump of my heartbeat is ringing in my ears like an immense drum.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Fumi says, throwing up his hands, and then he turns and hurries up the stairs.

I stand there for a long, long while, breathing hard, letting all of my anger drain out of me. Eventually I feel empty enough to find a nice clear spot on the rusty steps, brush away the mushrooms and polypous clumps of pooled flesh and sit. I think about burying my head in my hands, but I don’t.

After a moment I take out my radio from its holster on my belt and look at it. Fumi had warned me not to even try anything with it, he’d said that it’d be easy for anyone listening in, such as the FBI or people in the Control Center, to triangulate my position and there’d be no guarantee Elena would even have a radio to respond with if I did try to call her.

But I don’t see another choice. My hand is shaking a little and I feel as though if I stand up I’d just fall right over again. If I don’t do something I’m going to have a panic attack.

I crack the radio up to its broadest range-band and hold down the broadcast button. I can’t think of what to say. Eventually I shake my head and then lick my lips and give it my best shot. “Elena?” I ask. My voice catches a little but I swallow hard and force it back down. “Elena, it’s Roan. If you’re – if you’re out there and you can hear this, l-let me know. Please.”

I let the button go and then wait, heart pounding. I try to keep myself from counting the seconds, but I can’t. Ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty. I stop after a minute and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop the hot tears from leaking from them. She’s not out there, she’s dead or trapped somewhere without a radio, I knew it was a long shot, I shouldn’t have even bothered. If I hadn’t bothered I could at least pretend that –

The radio clutched loosely in my hands crackles to life. I glare at it, half-expecting to hear Fumi chew me out for using the radio in the first place.

“Roan?” Elena says. “Oh, my god, Roan, baby, is that you? Oh god, is that you?”

Continue with Part 34

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