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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Fish

For @whump-advent-calendar‘s day 4-6, Burn/Candles

CW: Referenced medical whump and dehumanization, light burn (accidental), captivity, muzzling, drugging reference, reluctant whumper turned caretaker

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BAHRAM’S NOTES NOTE TO SELF - SAVE IN EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE. DO NOT LET DR. L SEE.

October 22nd, 20XX 3:45 am Mer in Residence: 19 Days

It’s time to admit I’m more or less keeping a diary at this point as I get to understanding him. So far I’ve written separate notes to myself… for ten or so straight days of the nineteen we’ve had him here, and it’s getting harder to write the official transcriptions the way Dr. L wants me to.

Dr. Lachlan insists I call the mer ‘it’, that it’s to help me distance myself emotionally since it’s such a good mimic of humanity, but I don’t think it’s a damn mimic, I think it’s just… human.

I mean, obviously it’s not HUMAN, but… Miah spelled it out for me, we had an argument about this when he first got here. She gets so angry that he’s getting hurt and you know, I guess I believed Dr. L - mer aren’t my specialty field, I’m a snake man really, I don’t know the first bloody thing about fucking cetaceans.

Anyway, I said to her at the time, “It’s not human.”

She told me, “Maybe not H-U-M-A-N, but P-E-R-S-O-N,” just like jabbing me in the chest afterward. Also, Miah can fingerspell in a way that really makes you feel like a six year old getting yelled at by your mother, for the record. I can’t describe it any other way. I was ready to just melt away from personal embarrassment before she even finished signing “person.”

That’s not the point of this.

I didn’t start a diary just to tell myself how right Miah is about all of this, but hey, here we are.

I need some days off so badly.

Miah wasn’t around today, it’s really just been me and the mer - I’m off for four days coming up here, after 20 days of work, and she’s going to come in and do 24-hour watch until I’m back. It’s not so bad - I don’t really know anyone here, and the bed’s comfortable enough. Dr. L’s paying rent on my apartment so I won’t lose it while I’m working, anyway.

I still feel like some low-level henchman, though. Like any moment some asshole in a tank top is going to show up with guns and I’ll just be a faceless evil stepping stone before the boss fight with Dr. L.

I mean, we all know that Dr. L’s going to be the boss fight, right? Anders would just like lay down or throw Miah in front of himself or something.

No, that’s not fair, he really does love her.

Bahram this is all hypotheticals about a video game. Get back on track, man.

So Miah must have gone shopping or something. She came back with a bag full of these candles from this bookstore she really likes. I mean she came back with an insane amount of books, too, but she had this candle she pulled out and put down on my desk.

She set down the candle - it’s this really nice deep blue and has some kind of like ocean scene painted on the label, like, isn’t that thematic - and smiled at me. “This one reminded me of what we’re doing,” She told me, and her signs were… softer. Her expressions were softer alongside them.

Does that mean… anything? I don’t know. She just put it on my desk and then wandered off. I thanked her but I had to take her shoulder and get her to look at me, first. Maybe her face was a little red.

Maybe not.

We keep the tank room pretty warm, I’m sort of cold-natured and the mer seems more active when we keep the lights really warm, so…

I don’t get why she bought me a candle and why she looked away before I could thank her for it. I don’t get it, and I feel like I should, but I don’t. Is she not looking because it wasn’t a big deal, or because it was a big deal, or… what?

I really WOULD sink into the floor if Dr. L or Miah ever saw that I wrote this. Get it together, Bahram. You are not writing a diary about Miah fucking Kirsse.

It’s been just me and the mer, all day. Dr. L was gone, too, meeting with whoever’s funding this whole thing. She’ll be gone until next week, so there’s no real work getting done, for now. Just blood draws.

She’s showing them its claws she took off. I don’t know why. Honestly, I have such a bad feeling about this, but I needed the cash and nowhere else was hiring for a job that would give me room and board and still time to work on my own research. Not that I’ve done a bit of THAT in a week.

I get too distracted by the mer.

He swims in circles. He stares at nothing, or pokes the plastic coral and ferns we got him, or hides in his cave. I can switch the screens over to watch the camera feed from inside the cave, but he doesn’t do much in there, either. I caught him picking at his scales, and I need to ask Dr. L about that. She took three scales off his tail, which for the record I had nothing to do with (whose record? I’m writing this to myself, and what the fuck does it matter about scales when I’m the one sticking the damn needle in his elbow twice a week), and I caught him sort of whistling sadly and picking at the empty spaces.

They’ll grow back, Dr. L says. She’s not worried.

I am.

A little.

I’m starting to think Dr. L is lying about a lot of things, and I’m not sure what to do about that. If anything. This is a job, and I get paid better than I’ve ever been paid in my life. So… what do I do?

I could call the hotline and report him. It’s anonymous.

She’d know I did it.

I don’t know why, but… I don’t want her to know it was me. Cowardice, I guess. Pure bloody cowardice.

But Miah hasn’t emailed the hotline, either. We can’t both be cowards, right?

Anyway.

Tonight was tank cleaning, which is a bloody fucking chore. Anders was around long enough to help me get the mer tranq’d and into the lift and then the rolling tank where he can just sit until I get my work done. Poor thing just lolls around when he’s tranq’d up. Barely blinks.

Doesn’t stop its fucking crying, though.

We took a lot of blood from him today, too, so he was very weak. Barely moved, just curled himself up small so he was totally in the water and watched me work after Anders left. We’ve got a scrubber machine that does the hard work, I just have to hose some things down and then make sure its filter is still operating correctly. Watch the scrubber. Whole process takes about three hours from start to tank totally refilled, as long as I do it weekly. It’ll take much longer if I let it slide.

Double-checked the camera in the cave, and when I walked out of it I saw the mer’s head was up, watching everything I was doing. He dropped right back down under the water when he saw me looking at him. The muzzle looks so monstrous on him, but more than that, it makes him look like a monster.

Maybe Dr. L doesn’t muzzle him to keep us safe, but to keep me from seeing his expressions while I’m here with him all day.

No, that’s stupid. She doesn’t even think he’s sentient, right?

I finished up, and when I came to roll him back to the lift, I saw he’d popped his head up out of the rolling tank and was looking around the room itself. He hasn’t really looked around at all before this, and he was still tranq’d but maybe I fucked up the dosage? Because he was pretty alert, kind of whistling to himself and giving little chirps and clicks. He sounds like some weird mix of killer whale and fucking otters or something. When he saw me, he flinched back down under the water, but I had this idea.

Dr. L took his claws, and he’s still muzzled except when he’s on the table or when he eats, so like, it’s not like he can hurt me, right?

His eyes had gone to my desk, looking at… I guess all my books and papers and my laptop and everything. Maybe the candle. I waved my hand around until I saw that he was watching me again. With those big eyes it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s looking at, but when I clapped my hands he blinked at me, so I know he can hear it, can see me.

Then - and I swear I’m not lying - he moved himself up out of the water, and put his palms together. His earfins twitched out and back against his scalp, and his white hair dripped water all down his shoulders.

He cocked his head at me. Then he put his hands together, harder this time. He clapped, and then… he clicked.

I KNEW it. I KNEW clicks were questions. Dr. L said their brains don’t work that way, but I bet they do. Who’s even considered how their brains work? Maybe they’re just like us. All the studying I’ve been doing shows that the scans we’ve done of dead ones are pretty similar in overall size and placement of their center of language. They’ve shown that mer populations have their own dialects if they don’t interact with each other, like the Atlantic transients sound totally different than the Pacific transients, which sound different than the residents that stick close to the coastlines up by Alaska...

Making my own head hurt. I don’t even care about fucking mammals, but I guess I do now.

“That’s right,” I said when he clapped, not like he can understand but still. I said it, and I clapped again, and he clapped back. “Can you give me your head? I’ll take your muzzle off, yeah? If you don’t bite.”

Dumbest fucking idea ever, but hey.

I think maybe he knows the word muzzle, because he whistled and shrunk down again, lowering his hands. His ear flaps flattened again. I saw the deep red marks around his neck, from how we have to use the catch-pole to get him out, and I just. I just felt like shit, you know?

I’m shit, that’s what I am, we’re torturing a child, more or less, who hasn’t done a thing to anyone but be by himself because he lost his bloody fucking family. I can’t keep telling myself I’m not the bad guy, you know?

I’m going to jail if I report him, aren’t I? I helped bring him in, after all. There’s my whole career down the drain.

Is this how it felt when everyone was being shit to monkeys in the 70′s and calling it psychology? Did some of them just go along with it because they thought they had to?

This is not helpful, Bahram.

I sat down at my desk and tried to figure it out. His eyes were on me the whole time. I looked over at Miah’s candle, and looked at the label. Like I said, ocean scene. Fronds and ferns and…

I turned the label to face the mer, and tapped on the image with my finger. “Fish,” I said, feeling dumb as hell. I told myself, it’s a bloody animal, Dr. L would roll around laughing at you for this.

But he came back up out of the water. There was a long moment, and I heard him click, and then a soft, “Sssshhhhhh,” sound came from behind his muzzle. They have lips like ours, although their way of communicating is basically whalesong and relies heavily on underwater acoustics. He’s louder in the tank than out of it, although I guess fear might make him quiet, too.

The recordings I found on youtube they get in the ocean are deafening loud. Their voices travel so well underwater, it’s amazing. People sell fucking CDs with mersong over piano to fall asleep to.

I poked at the ocean scene on the label again. “Fish,” I said firmly. “Do you want fish?”

He knows fish.

I KNOW he knows fish because he sat up, held out his right arm, and tapped his elbow with a blunt-edged, broken-off claw before he looked back at me, trembling with fear. He clicked again, twice.

I can’t even tell you how shit I feel, realizing he was asking if I was going to take his blood first. That’s what he meant, it has to be. He poked at the exact spot where he’s bruised up from the needle.

But it makes sense, right?

He’s been here twenty days, more or less. Every couple of days, when he’s hungry enough, we bribe him with fish to get the pole on him, take blood or whatever else, and then he eats.

No, WE don’t take his blood. I take his blood.

He thinks - and he’s fucking thinking, I know he is - that he only eats if we stick a needle in him.

I’m hurting a child.

I’m teaching a child to be hurt.

I’m not religious but this feels like the sort of thing you ask for forgiveness for, doesn’t it? I should call Maman and ask her who I could talk to. I’m going to call Maman or Baba tomorrow.

No I’m not.

What would I tell them I need to speak to someone about?

What if whoever I speak to calls and reports him, and Dr. L knows it was because of me?

I need to stop thinking about this.

“No, NOT draw blood,” I said, and he whimpered again, held out his arm further, closer to me, tapped his elbow again. I knew he could still hurt me - their strength is prodigious, the first time we got him out of the tank he nearly pulled Dr. L down into the water with him - but I decided it was worth the risk.

I kept thinking, he’s more scared of me than I am of him, but you know, of course he is. He’s the one with bruises.

I stretched my own arm out and showed it to him. He flinched back a little, and then leaned forward again, sitting in the little rolling tank that’s barely big enough to hold him. His blunt claws touched my arm, delicate as a feather, clicking as he poked at the sleeve of my sweater.

“No draw blood,” I said. “Just fish. Eat.” I mimed chewing.

He looked at me and clicked twice, cocking his head, then looked at my candle from Miah, pointing at the ocean scene. “Ffff-sshhhh,” he said, muffled.

“No, that’s a candle, it just has fish painted on it. Candle. Fire. Yes?”

Blank stare.

Then, repeated, “Ffff-sssshhh.”

I sighed and pulled out my little lighter. I don’t smoke or anything, but I hate the way matches smell, so I have a lighter on me basically all the time. Plus, having lighters was a pretty good way to make friends back in undergrad when I gave a fuck about that.

I flicked on the lighter, and the mer chirped, curiously.

Has it never seen fire before?

Why would it, it lives in the ocean. Don’t be a dumbshit, Bahram.

“Fire,” I said, and held it out a little for a closer look. “Fire.” I tilted it and lit the candle, and the mer leaned forward, rapt, as the wick sparked up to flame and I blew the smaller flame on the lighter out.

“FFfffff,” The mer said, barely audible. It clicked and held out its hand, and I wasn’t fast enough.

“No, wait stop-”

The mer’s fingertips touched the flame and it let out a deafening loud cry of pain and jerked its hand back down into the water, whimpering at the new kind of hurt, looking at me like it was MY fault, and maybe it was. Eyebrows furrowed, little crease in its forehead, big sad eyes.

The big sad eyes are wrecking me.

“Well, don’t touch fire and you won’t burn,” I said, shaking my head. “No touch fire. Fire bad. Fire burn.”

He held out his hand to show me. “Ffff-rrrrr.” It was a plaintive little breath of air, not quite a real sound.

The ends of two fingers were a little dark, that’s all. I could explain that by saying he’d hurt himself in the tank, maybe. I shook my head and pointed at the water, and it put its hand back in there, huffing a little breath of relief, I think. The water probably helped with the sting.

“Right. Fire bad. No fire.”

“Ffff-rrr... buh-ddd.”

“Right. Fire bad.” I stood up and walked over behind him, and he tried to turn and watch me but I shook my head and pointed back at the candle and he sort of huffed again and looked away. I felt him tense when my fingers touched the back of his head, but he sat still.

Probably because if he struggles when she goes to take the muzzle off or gets her fingers near his mouth, Dr. L has this electricity stick thing…

I’m not supposed to mention that in the transcripts.

I’m not supposed to mention how he screams, and he doesn’t sound like a whale or an otter, then. He doesn’t sound like an animal.

He sounds like a child.

He IS a child

He’s just

I’m a fucking

No. I need to focus. This is stuff I can’t tell Dr. L, I need to write it down here where it’s safe.

The muzzle is easy to get off, you just need to be looking right at it, and I unbuckled and pulled it free, feeling a little resistance from how well it stuck to his face. Without it on, there are deep red lines along his cheeks and jaw, not open or bleeding, just irritated.

He didn't grab at me, or bite. Just watched me with his big eyes as I laid it down on my desk. For a second we were both just quiet, looking at each other.

Then he pointed at the candle again. “Ffff-sssshh.”

“No,” I said. “Candle. Fire.”

The mer’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, echoing what I did earlier. His hair slapped around. His teeth look like shark’s teeth up close, only there’s a lot less of them. “Nnnn-nnnuh,” He tried, shaking his head again.” Nnn-uh. Ffff-sssshhh.” Then he pointed at his mouth, opening wide, showing me the tongue behind his teeth. “Fffff-sssshhh. Ffff-ssshhh.”

I laughed, covering my mouth - he seems to be scared when we show too much teeth, probably in the ocean it’s a threat and they don’t smile like we do. Which, why would they?

But, see, I realized that he wasn’t pointing at the candle at all, but at the fish painted on it. Then he moved to look at the bucket of fish he gets as a reward for obedience, and pointed at that, then looked back at me to see if I was paying attention.

Of course I was. I was barely fucking breathing. This is signs of abstract thought process, recognizing that the image of a thing isn’t the thing itself. That he can point at it to represent what he wants. “You want fish? Is that it? You’re hungry? Want to eat some fish?”

The mer blinked and made a sound like a chirp, clapped his hands together. “Rrrrr. Fff-sssshhh.” He pointed at his mouth again. “Ffff-ssshhh. Buh-rrrrmm. Ffffsshh.”

“What did you say?” I whispered. My heart went cold. I can’t describe it any other way.

“Buh-rrrrmmmm. Ffff-sssshh, Buh-rrrmm.”

The bloody thing knows my fucking name.

He knows we have names and he knows mine and that means-... that means he has one, doesn’t it? If he has a name, if he has

I’m his fucking nightmare aren’t I

I’m the worst fucking thing that could happen to him, me and Miah and Dr. L and Anders and this is a job but it’s the worst thing that’s happened to him and it’s only

It’s going to get worse for him.

He’s going to die here and he’ll know all our names when he does.

Anyway, so... you know... I brought him a bucket of fish.

What else was I supposed to do?

He knows my name!

He let me put the muzzle on him again without fighting after he finished, and I got him back in the tank once the water was refreshed, and he’s sleeping off his meal now. I can see him on the feed, curled up inside the cave.

But I’m wide awake, so I thought I’d write this, because…

Because what the hell do I do now?

I can’t tell Miah.

Can I?

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@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @misspelledwitch @whumpfigure @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @whumpywhumper

#whump #mer whump #nonhuman whumpee #wac2020 #fire #burns tw #burn #mer whumpee #reluctant whumper #caretaker and whumpee #reluctant caretaker #caretaker whumper #referenced torture #tail whump #referenced #captivity #muzzled #muzzle #forced drugging reference

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bookenders · 5 years

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11/11/11 Tag Game: Round 12

This is a very popular tag game, it seems! Tagged by @ren-c-leyn! Thanks, friend! I am evidence that you can do this game thousands of times, as I have answered 12% of 1000 questions by now. 😋

🎶🎵Hit me baby one more time🎵🎶

My Questions (running out of creativity, must consume more media):

What baseball positions would your OCs be in if they all had to be on a baseball team? What’s the team name? What’s their mascot? What do the uniforms look like? (If you hate baseball or prefer a different sport, substitute said sport for baseball.)

How good are your OCs at bowling? How good are you at bowling?

Rewrite this in your style: “I picked up the book and read the back. He took it from me before I could protest. He never lets me have the cool stuff.”

What do you love about the last book you read?

What are three things you love about your writing?

What’s a word you love the sound of? What’s a word you really don’t like the sound of?

How do you like to begin your stories?

What other forms of writing have you tried other than the one you’re working with now? (i.e. playwriting, screenwriting, poetry, interactive, novels, short fiction. etc.) How do you feel about them?

What’s your favorite play/musical? Why? What’s your favorite part?

What kind of stories do you like to read? How different are they from what you write?

What’s your favorite bit of worldbuilding from a story someone else wrote?

Frodo Taggins:@cawolters, @mvcreates, @a-story-im-writing, @cvrmillas, @ink-flavored, @aslanwrites, @the-real-rg, @bookish-actor, @toboldlywrite, @pens-swords-stuff, @tangoswips and legit anyone else who wants to do this. Especially you.

Answers under the cut!

1. Why did you chose to write the genre you do? If you don’t write in any particular one, why do you bounce?

I grew up writing literary fiction, the undergrad program I studied in prioritized literary fiction, and I like it best. Sometimes I get fancy and branch into fantasy.

I do not write sci-fi because it’s too hard for me. I’ve tried, it didn’t turn out well. I also don’t usually do horror because it’s a lot of effort for me to make my brain go that kind of dark. And I tend to stay away from YA because the voice is tough for me to write in.

2. Favorite name?

Lydia!

3. Type of music/ambiance you listen to while writing?

I make playlists and loop them or put the same song on repeat for however long the writing session lasts. Usually a cello/violin piece. Sometimes I’ll hit flow state without anything playing and come out weirded out by the silence. That’s always fun.

4. Best feeling you’ve ever had while writing? (example: filling in that one plot hole and not making another one. Or dropped a tiny detail in and it connected all of the subplots Perfectly.)

I get one in just about every story. Each one has a line/section that I wrote, stopped, and looked at it while going “yisssss” in my head. Usually it’s my last lines. That’s when I love to bring everything together. For my war story, it was finding the perfect song to include that referenced both a character and his journey (”Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” for those wondering).

A few others: Finishing my last thesis story after having to rewrite it one day before my last draft was due to my committee because computer errors ugh (but it was way better the second time and I got some good bird imagery in there so it’s all good). Putting in a callback to a character’s old desk by using her new one. Getting the dream scene tense shift perfectly paced in the story I’m working on now. Hitting the perfect emotional beat and satisfying the whole dang emotional arc thread in my artist short story.

5. Is it easier for you to write comedic situations or serious ones?

Serious, by far. My funny doesn’t translate well to the written word. I mean, I can do both, but my serious emotionally heavy scenes are far easier for me to bust out than the funnies.

6. Do you tend to use symbolism a lot?

Unconsciously, all the time! I think it’s almost impossible for a writer to not use symbolism. On purpose, slightly less than all the time. I prefer rhyming actions than what a lot of people think of as symbolism. I don’t do the “x person is represented by the color red and it gets more washed out as the story goes on symbolizing their internal crisis of conscience.” I’m more of a “here’s a thing they both liked and an innocuous detail about it but now that one of them is gone the detail means something different and the weight of the symbol changes.”

I like extended metaphors a whole lot.

7. Think fast: Which book inspired your writing style the most?

Uhhhhh The Things They Carried? Or Wintergirls. Or Hooked on Phonics (heh). I’ve found that Anne Valente’s style is kinda similar to mine, too. Possibly Where the Red Fern Grows. I dunno. There are so many!

8. Last book you read?

I just finished Autoboyography, it was lovely. I recommend it for anyone who wants a coming out story that helps you learn about Mormonism and the LDS church. Also the main character is a wonderful disaster.

9. Book you’re currently working on?

So many. But I just started reading Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan. It’s an odd style that I’m super not used to reading in longer fiction (it reads like a short story, which is neat) but I’m trying to get into it.

[Edit: yeah, I gave up and swapped it for Once and Future, which is good.]

10. Do you ever regret deciding you wanted to be a writer?

I have. I do sometimes. But I never really “decided,” per say. It’s just been what I’ve always done and I keep doin’ it. 🚂 That’s why I’m gonna study and have a career outside of writing. It’s the thing I love to do and I’m good at it, but I know myself, and it’d be tough for me to become a career writer. Unless some miracles happen.

11. Something besides writing or reading that you like to do for fun?

I started getting into graphic design, which is a lot harder than I thought. I like going to art installations and ren faires. I love theatre, watching and participating (I’ve written, directed, and acted before!). I like going to local art events, festivals, faires, and supporting local businesses.

#11/11/11 tag #tag game #writer tag #about me #11 questions #11/11/11 tag game #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #it's Frodo this time because I think 12 tags merits a second journey

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