if i'm online i'm probably not supposed to be
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Journeyman Lemon
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  • Thalassy
    Public • October 25, 2022, 8:47 pm
    my account is kind of dead
    if u want to contact me heres my discord
    GMIU #2883
  • Thalassy
    Public • July 13, 2022, 7:01 pm
    WDGaster2 I thought you might like this
    In addition the scrapped story in the post below this one, I wrote *two* creepypastas


    Brine Pools



    Sometimes it is best for things to remain undiscovered, untouched by the knowledge of those who seek to learn more about their world. I wish I had known this before I joined the expedition.

    The year was late 2001, when the world was still recovering from the horror of 9/11. I lived in a small coastal village around the gulf of Mexico. I was not a native to the town, having come shortly after my college graduation to pursue my passion of the beautiful ocean. I never felt any friendliness or connection to my neighbors, so I stayed away from them. I bought a house on the outskirts, a somewhat traditional medium-sized hut on a cliffside. I earned substantial money from selling artwork, mostly paintings I had made of the horizon. It was not a pleasant life, but I lived in relative peace. At night, excluded from the raunchy celebrations of the locals, I would sit on my porch and sip hot cocoa and gaze out at the stars over the dark waters.

    It was an unusually cold afternoon when I heard a knock on my door. Earlier that morning, I had celebrated my 44th birthday. I had purchased a small, candleless cupcake. It did not take long to finish it, and it left a sour taste in my mouth. I had just poured myself a drink of water when somebody rapped on my door. I glanced at the door, and called, “¡Espera, en seguida estaré contigo!” I took a sip from my glass, placed it down on the counter, and walked over to the door. When I opened it, I saw a tall, gaunt man. His hair was dark and unkempt. His attire was simple and monotone, but still looked like it had cost considerable amounts of money.

    Louis had a friendly air about him, but he talked in a way that displayed a hidden arrogance. Still, I took a liking to him when I let him inside my house. After he had introduced himself, we sat down at my table. It took him a short while to settle into my wooden chairs. When he had taken a comfortable position, he looked up at me, adjusted his glasses, and spoke.

    He was here, he explained with a heavy German accent, because he was part of a team of marine biologists that had come to the area as they had recently discovered a brine pool in the waters near the village. “You know what brine pools are, yes, no?” he asked.

    “A little bit, but not too much.” I replied. “Brine is heavily salinated water, correct?” He nodded.

    “Brine pools,” he told me, “are large amounts of brine that are contained by a geological depression at the bottom of the sea. They’re toxic to all organisms except for microscopic ones, and getting too close to one can result in death.” He paused. “Despite that, creatures can still live around them, if not in them.” He bit his lip and looked away, seeming distracted.

    “And you say you’ve discovered one around this area?” I prompted him.

    He nodded again. “Not really in this area, but this is the closest village to it.” He sighed. “Normally, we wouldn’t even be interested in this brine pool. There are a lot others that would be easier to access…” His eyes flicked over to me. “But we’ve found something…unnerving there.” He leaned forward. “We’ve picked up a signal using sonar…coming from within the pool. Not around it, but within it.”

    “And that means…?” My question trailed off.

    “It means,” he said, “that there is something living down there.”

    As it turned out, he and his team had gone to this village looking for volunteers to help with the expedition. However, I was the only one they could find. “How did you find me?” I asked Louis, puzzled. He chuckled. “When I asked your neighbors where I could find someone who would want to volunteer for the job, they said that you would be happy to do it because they’d seen you looking out at the water so many times they thought that one day you’d jump into it.” His face turned serious. “But please, consider. We’ve searched you up and know that you have a degree in marine biology.”

    “I’ll think about-” He cut me off.

    “No time. We head out tomorrow. Yes or no.”

    Twelve months later, I and a few others boarded a ship, where Louis and his crew greeted me enthusiastically. It was a cloudless day, and it was unlikely that we would encounter bad weather. I entered my cot as the engine started, got into my bed, and took a nap. When I woke, I went outside, and found that I could no longer see land. The ship had anchored. I leaned over the deck, feeling the boat rocking gently. The view, while vast and monotonous, was breathtaking. I heard a cry in French, and I turned my head to see a woman waving at me from our submersible, which looked as if it was ready to submerge. As I poked my head through the entryway, I admired the work that must have gone into it. It was a long, round thing, with two portholes in the front and along the sides. Dully painted metal lined the walls, floor and ceiling, giving the machine a bleak, soulless appearance. Looks don’t matter, though, as long as it holds up under the pressure, I thought grimly as I climbed inside, joining the woman and the two pilots. “A-OK, guys. You are ready to go.” Louis’ voice crackled over the radio. The woman walked over to the hatch and shut it tightly. The submersible shook as the crane lifted it up. I felt the feeling of being moved. There was a pause, and then water filled the view through the portholes. I walked over to the cockpit, where the two pilots sat. I watched the bubbles rise through the air. There were scarcely any fish.

    Three hours passed. We had been relatively silent inside the submersible. Nothing was heard except for the eerie sounds of the submersible seeking deeper, deeper, deeper into the water.

    It was pitch black, and we couldn’t see anything.

    At around 6,000 feet, Louis’ voice was heard on the radio for the first time since we had cast off from the ship. This time, however, his voice was garbled, and we could barely hear what he was saying. However, we got the message - he was asking if we were at 6,000 feet yet. We affirmed it, and he told us to turn our lights on.

    Once the lights switched on, we saw a gaping hole, filled with what I assumed to be brine. It must have been 10 feet wide. Massive collections of mussels surrounded it, and through the portholes, I saw eels and crabs darting around. I bit my lip as we went down into the brine pool and were submerged.

    Louis’ voice was heard over the radio once more, almost unintelligible. I only realized what he had said when we had resurfaced: “I don’t think it’s the best time to tell you that a submersible has never gone below a brine pool before.”

    Like before, when we had the lights off, we were unable to see anything. However, this time, we had the lights on. We could see nothing except pale, white, billowing clouds. I looked at the woman, and she nodded at me, her face showing signs of anxiety. This comforted me. At least I wasn’t the only one who was scared out of their wits.

    I took a deep breath, walked over to one of the various machines in the submersible, and began to record.

    The things I heard will haunt me even in death.

    Amidst the maddening ambience of the deep sea, we heard rumbling sounds, moaning sounds, thudding sounds. Slow, sad wails still echo in my brain. At one point, we heard the sound of multiple objects hitting the roof of the submersible, one after another. I think they might have been legs.

    The most terrifying thing, though, is this: the noises continued even as we rose up back to the surface. They only stopped once we were out of the water.

    The sound files were never published, but were given to each member of the expedition as a reminder of our hard work. I put mine in the trash a while ago, but I can’t erase those noises from my head.

    I live in a city surrounded by land now, and I haven’t touched running water except for drinking and hygienic purposes since that day.

    At night, I no longer sit out on my porch and drink hot cocoa.

    At night, I dream of water.


    Obscuring Fog



    It was a cold night. It was natural, I suppose, as the place I had just left was settled at a high elevation, where it would receive more wind than it would if it had been built at sea level. The place was the place where I worked. It is a research center that devotes itself to the preservation of the world’s environments. Many people often confuse it with the cause to stop climate change and global warming.

    This is not the case. In fact, there are many differences. For one, the center’s work does not involve animals at all. It solely focuses on the ecosystems that the animals live in, and how to preserve them for future generations of creatures. It is a private business, although we once requested government funding and did not receive it. My specialty was researching and attempting to find undiscovered biomes. I was met with little success, and worked from noon to five in the morning, but I was paid well.

    I don’t work there anymore.


    Hurrying over to my car against the heavy wind, I was bothered by the wind, but not unused to it. I fumbled with my car keys before opening it and climbing inside. I started the ignition, turned on the headlights, and started down the road.

    It usually took me about one hour and forty-five minutes to get home. Once again, I was bothered by this, but not unused to it. However, this particular day I had forgot my lunch and had only eaten two meals. I was starving. I looked for a shorter route and found one that said it would take just one hour.

    The shortcut was on a split path from the one I normally took. It was usually blocked off for some reason. However, today the way was clear. I hesitated before driving into the darkness.

    Fifteen minutes into the drive, the engine stopped. The car was still on, but I couldn’t move an inch. I couldn’t see an inch either, or perhaps that was just my brain. My head was mentally screaming and could have made the situation worse in my eyes. I opened the car door and stood shaking in the twilight. It was warm and sticky, like a humid summer night. All around me there was an obscuring fog. I could only see my dead car and the ground around me. I took a tentative step forward. The ground clicked. I pressed my foot against it, suddenly intrigued. It seemed a bit like mud, with a flexible but impenetrable layer that stretched and made a crackling noise. Upon closer inspection, it seemed like a thin film of hardened but bendy gray slime or mold. It was almost entirely transparent. I stood up, excited. This was possibly the place that would make me wealthy, and possibly get us government funding.

    I abruptly remembered that I was in an unknown land with a immobile car. Fear and rationality took hold of my previous fascination. I looked at my car. The retrieval of it on my own, I decided, was hopeless. It would’ve been best to hoist it out with a suitable amount of people once I had reported my findings…

    But how was I to find my way back? The only possible and grotesquely simple solution that formed in my mind was to walk, by foot, the opposite direction from which I had driven.

    As I began walking, the ground making those strange crackles as I proceeded, I began to smell something strange. It was a bad smell, like the smell of ammonia. However, this smell was more subtle, less blunt, in a way that made me nervous. It had an unearthly scent about it.

    Although searching for the unexplored was my profession, the mind of the human is made to be afraid when introduced with the unknown.

    I took another step forward. The tip of my shoe sank with a squishing noise. I recoiled, and there was a visible indentation where my foot had touched the ground. I watched as the ground slowly swelled back up around the hole with a disgusting squelching noise. I narrowed my eyes and strained my ears. In the direction from which I was walking, I could hear strange things, sounds that resembled bubbles popping. However, the low tones made it seem like the bubbles had a higher density than a normal bubble would, almost as if the bubbles were filled with sludge.

    I reached into my pocket, fumbling for anything that I might have. I found a stack of post-its that I usually carried around if I needed to take notes. I dropped it in the ground in front of me. It was quickly enveloped.

    I began to panic. If the ground was sludge now, how had I been able to drive over it before? I turned around and ran back to my car.

    I should say where the car was, as I could see the hood of it slowly sinking into the ground.

    I have been sitting here for hours now. It no longer feels so hot, and the stench no longer smells so bad. It must be daytime. I can feel the ground beneath me softening and changing.

    If only I could see the sun again. If only I could feel that warm light on my face. It would not matter if I lived or died, I just want to see the sun again.

    But the obscuring fog shields it from me.


    I might put these on the creepypasta website, idk
  • Thalassy
    Public • July 13, 2022, 6:42 pm
    im kinda back
    anyway here's a unfinished backrooms story lol

    In an immediate but indistinct action, your eyes open wide. Your irises, with determined futility, strive to focus on any stationary object that your vision might perceive. Your skyward sight -you are facing up- is blurred; the difference between background and foreground is indistinguishable, lemony blobs dancing across your perception. A monotonous, distorted hum pours into your ear canals. It is an unearthly sound, an ominous murmur that disturbs your sanity, drawing out nameless non-emotions from the unexplored depths of your mind, akin to sinister beasts emerging from a sunless abyss, smiling without mirth as they rise to devour you. These apocalyptic, incomprehensible semi-notions -it would be wrong, somehow politically and abstractedly incorrect, to call them feelings- are introduced to your consciousness in such an abrupt, chaotic manner that allegorical cracks speedily form within your spirit, so that your mental stability is on the brink of implosion. It is unknown to you whether these resonations are deluded apparitions of your fevered imagination, or if they indeed are terrifying creations of reality.

    Eventually, you become accustomed -immune, perhaps- to the maddening, close-knit pulses, enough that you are able to tell that they are not produced by your troubled head. With a frigid chill crawling down your spine, your wits register that the sole sensation formerly effective within you was hearing. The rest was null -no touch, taste, smell- your sight, if not completely inert, dysfunctional. Now, however, a foul odor creeps into your nostrils. It is a rotten stench, a scent of decay, of tainted, moldy food and festering, decomposing corpses. If this fetid miasma had a color, it would be the yellow of an old cheese rind, touched by no fingers other than that of the grimy paws of filthy rodents and the lanky legs of insects, enveloped in slime and mold with the buzz of flies surrounding it - just like the unending buzz that echoes in your ears even as it continues at the present. You realize that your clothes are moistened, not by your sweat, but by the dampness of the ground. Mixed with your perspiration, the liquid produced from below lathers your skin in a sticky substance. There is little space on your body that is not drenched in the repulsive, threadlike ooze. You understand that the thin-layered sludge caking your figure and the floor is the source of the ghastly reek, which explains why the scent is so strong. Slowly and with much effort -it seems like it takes the course of a minute- you move the joints of your left index finger to scrape at the floor you are laying on. The surface is wet, as you suspected, but not as much as you expected. It is damp with the odorous, sticky material, and the ground itself seems to be made out of rough wool. You inch your finger slightly, and a picture of the floor forms in your mind -a dank, coarse, rug with minute woolen cylinders sprouting up; a “noodle” rug, if you wish to call it that. That image that you have just devised in your head; your visualization of the ground that you rest on…it is the most concrete, complex concept that you have thought since you awakened, despite the thought itself being somewhat abstract. Just the same, all your senses activate to their fullest, all at the same time…almost as if it were pre-designated. Your sight unblurs rapidly, you feel you can move -and as you get up, you realize that there has been bile behind your closed, dry lips for quite some time. You use your right arm as a brace as you propel your back upwards, tilt your head to one side, and retch onto the already nauseating floor. The vomit drips from your mouth as you breathe heavily, your head bobbing up and down.
  • Thalassy
    Public • June 8, 2022, 5:15 pm
    Does anybody know any good techwear brands that old-fashioned parents would accept
    TheMcPig • 2022-06-09 16:58:07
    I don't think that old-fashioned parents really like tech so idk lol
  • Thalassy
    Public • May 30, 2022, 9:53 pm
    hey guys so im ditching sexual/romantic orientation labels cuz yes
    bai
    akdjhsdkh
    -Tha
  • Thalassy
    Public • May 10, 2022, 8:24 pm
    So my ARG channel is (kinda) active again, please consider checking it out.
    https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNhwcBBTI0OjHvhNQ5nbTlg
    -Tha
  • Thalassy
    Public • May 8, 2022, 1:32 pm
    Just wondering, is there anybody else out there who has strange music tastes? I like music ranging from dubstep like the ones made by Kill the Noise, to music made by Lorn and Sub Urban. Most of all, though, I like to listen to the Arrival, Dunkirk, and Dune soundtracks. How bout you guys/gals/everyone else?
    -Tha
    Thalassy • 2022-05-09 20:43:10
    Oh yeah caster is great
    Hardcrafter • 2022-05-08 13:59:28
    I'm the type of person who can passively enjoy any music aside from country.

    What I actively seek out though is hardstyle/hardcore also dubstep from the likes of Caster and SWARM. GHOST DATA is another producer I haven't been able to get enough of recently.
  • Thalassy
    Public • May 7, 2022, 7:00 pm
    I am now dating the cutest trans dude
    plz teach me how to kiss bcs i dont know how
    -Tha
  • Thalassy
    Public • April 27, 2022, 4:29 pm
    first performance of my school musical today
    also the first time i've looked in the mirror with eyeliner and now i wish i knew how to put it on by myself
    also kudos to me for discreetly stealing one of the fishnets lol
    -Tha
  • Thalassy
    Public • April 22, 2022, 8:31 pm
    lesgo i came out to my parents and all of three us are fine and not scarred by the experience
  • Thalassy
    Public • April 17, 2022, 5:37 pm
    happy easter
  • Thalassy
    Public • April 17, 2022, 4:01 am
    Hey, would you guys subscribe to my youtube channel
    I'm gonna use it more often now soooo
  • Thalassy
    Public • April 17, 2022, 2:58 am
    i made the mistake of watching shxtou without headphones
    it wont happen again
  • Thalassy
    Public • April 10, 2022, 9:03 pm
    Alr, so it wasn't actually a big deal, I got friendzoned by the person in question, and we're buds now. It's fine ppl
  • Thalassy
    Public • April 7, 2022, 8:00 pm
    I need advice
    What do you do when your best friend tells you that your crush only likes girls???
    -Tha
    tigeXD • 2022-04-07 20:30:36
    you ignre+that would not be your best friend if he ditch you or wtv...
    CrackAh_Tom • 2022-04-07 20:23:48
    move on with your day
  • Thalassy
    Public • April 6, 2022, 5:08 pm
    a. i found out im omniromantic yesterday
    b. here's the only selfie i would put on here and also the only selfie i've ever taken
    as you can see it's heavily edited
    i said i don't dress like a trap but my parents weren't home

    -Tha
  • Thalassy
    Public • April 3, 2022, 8:28 pm
    Found my new favorite song
    www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8L2OLu6JZo
  • Thalassy
    Public • March 19, 2022, 4:41 pm
    Hello everyone, I am officially a trap...online. I don't actually dress like that, and I don't plan to.
    -Tha
    GhostlyBit_57 Yes, I know, I was trying to make a joke, I'm sorry :( I see
    Thalassy • 2022-03-20 18:02:44
    It's ok, my humor radar is broken lol
    Thalassy gays/me are not necessarily weirdos to answer ur question bro look at all my minecraft skins
    GhostlyBit_57 • 2022-03-20 15:01:51
    Yes, I know, I was trying to make a joke, I'm sorry :(
    I see
    GhostlyBit_57 YEAH HAHhAhahahHAhhahaha... haha... Just out of curiosity, I'm gonna sound like one of those weirdos in the internet,...
    Thalassy • 2022-03-20 13:57:25
    gays/me are not necessarily weirdos
    to answer ur question bro look at all my minecraft skins
    Thalassy COULDN'T BE ME AMIRIGHT AHAHAHAH
    GhostlyBit_57 • 2022-03-20 11:48:00
    YEAH HAHhAhahahHAhhahaha... haha...

    Just out of curiosity, I'm gonna sound like one of those weirdos in the internet, but how do you look "online"
    I swear I'm not gay a weirdo
    GhostlyBit_57 Yeah, imagine having an appeal for literally men that look like women...
    Thalassy • 2022-03-20 02:02:41
    COULDN'T BE ME AMIRIGHT AHAHAHAH
    Thalassy N-not saying that I don't find traps attractive *sputters*
    GhostlyBit_57 • 2022-03-19 19:31:32
    Yeah, imagine having an appeal for literally men that look like women...
    Thalassy • 2022-03-19 16:41:43
    N-not saying that I don't find traps attractive *sputters*
  • Thalassy
    Public • March 18, 2022, 5:58 pm
    I diamond and heart my own creations, like my own wall posts, and emerald my own comments. Is that narcissistic in anyway? I'm just wondering.
    -Tha
    Thalassy • 2022-03-18 18:25:06
    To EchoTheGoof: Kudos to the last part of your comment, I completely agree
    GhostlyBit_57: I agree as well, also thanks for the mega notif spam :)
    GhostlyBit_57 • 2022-03-18 18:11:27
    Maybe, but I don't because I don't feel that way or smth, I do have a problem with liking almost everything I see in this site, or maybe is not a problem, maybe it's just that people are talented and make so many darn pretty things
    So, you do you I guess, it's never bad to be a bit narcissistic to an extent, so it's good :)
    EchoTheGoof • 2022-03-18 18:05:18
    I only favorite my own creations if I'm really proud of them but just my opinion. Everybody runs their account differently and that's totally fine. It'll be great when everyone can realize that and agree to disagree.
  • Thalassy
    Public • March 17, 2022, 9:51 pm
    I've noticed that my skins have been downloaded for a small amount of times.
    Just wondering, does anybody actually wear them or are you using them for something else?
    -Tha
    Thalassy • 2022-03-18 10:45:25
    Yeah, I hate to say this, but it does seem a bit sketchy...at least twice on my old account I've had my works stolen.
    Hardcrafter • 2022-03-18 05:19:07
    Same experience, same question.

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