scribhneoirtuirseach

[scribhneoirtuirseach]

Slices of Lives (also on AO3)

featuring: a sentimental Carlos, a sleeping Cecil, and a lot of dialogue

references: 1983 (Episode 67: [Best Of?]), the Underground City (Episode 107: The Missing Sky), Esteban (only a mention)

wordcount: 854

“The place is here and the time is now. To be more specific, 'here' is our couch in the living room, and 'now' is a late Friday evening. You've had a busy news week, with all the usual nearly town-ending crises— And, as usual, the town remains.”

Carlos speaks softly, yet still just loud enough to be heard by his tape recorder, as he threads his fingers through Cecil's hair.

“There is a thing that we've both said often, so much so that I probably don't need to say it for you to know, but I will anyway; Past performance is not an indicator of future results. I think about that a lot. I think about when the different realities of Night Vale were collapsing in on each other pretty violently. Do you remember?”

It's a hypothetical question that of course goes unanswered by his sleeping husband, whose sounds of radio static while he rests acts as comforting white noise in the background of the recording.

“I remember you saying you had a brother visiting, and how when you had him, my office and I were gone. I remember having three radios in the lab playing at once. One played current broadcasts as usual, and the other two played two different realities on repeat. One of you at the end of the world, lamenting your lack of a loved one while you were alone in your booth, and the other where you were one of those tiny people living in the Underground City.”

The scientist pauses here, thoughtful. He is often thoughtful, as being a scientist requires mostly thinking— But it's always felt different when examining personal issues. Feelings are still difficult to examine at times.

“I think of how improbable the chances were for us to pair up the way we have. For us to even meet in the first place, given how elusive Night Vale is as a town. There are infinite possibilities of how things could have happened; Possibilities I also think of when I look at our sister cities and their respective radio hosts, their possible partners. But this version of us, in this particular reality? We made it. We met, and we married, and we made a family together. I feel… scientifically lucky.

In science, there are three proposed types of luck. A supernatural event, an explanation people use to make sense of certain events, and a personal attribute one has within themselves. The Roman philosopher Seneca once said that luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. I'm glad this me came here prepared, even if it took a year to trust in it… Even if I delayed things, with being in the Desert Otherworld.”

Here, Cecil grunts as though he heard that location crystal clear through his dreaming, and Carlos smiles.

“I don't think I apologise enough for that, or for not telling the whole truth of my side of that. I know—” He chuckles. “I know you'll say it's fine, whenever you hear this. You're good like that, always so reassuring to anyone about anything, but still. I'm sorry, and I love you. I don't think I say that enough either. Or maybe I say it too much? There's a fear that saying words too often will make them lose their meaning, but I hope not. I make an effort to say what I mean, even if it's difficult.

This… is difficult. Talking to you on the radio is one thing, because I talk to you and you answer, and in my mind it is just the two of us when I know the whole community is listening. I know only you will hear this, but you don't answer yet. While I sit normally on our couch, you lay curled up, head against my stomach and arms around me, like I might go somewhere. I won't. Not in this reality. Past performance is not an indicator of future results… But I choose to believe we are in the best reality we can be. That though there will be bumps in the road, we'll make it through to the other side mostly unscathed, and whatever that other side holds will be what we want or need. That if we do end up parted, we will find our way back to each other and continue on with this strange life.”

He takes in a deep breath, as though realising he hasn't done that for a while in the midst of his rambling. And in taking that break— He thinks he may be done. The feelings, and the worries that lay just beneath them, are off his shoulders. Not to mention, he's running out of tape.

“I hope it will be a long life together. I hope Esteban will be as lucky as we have been, if he wants to find a lifelong partner. And if not, I hope he enjoys whatever profession he finds himself in. I hope that you're having a nice dream,” Leaning down as best he can, Carlos presses a kiss to Cecil's head. “I love you, honey-voiced honey. Thank you for loving me too.”

[scribhneoirtuirseach]

these three films have similar vibes and yet—AND YET!—ppl constantly sleep on the nice guys. wake up america!!!!!!

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"Are you holding any tension in your body?"

uh yeah obviously. Where else would I keep it?

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why does he move his head around so much. you are like a bird to me sir.

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do you ever find yourself bedeviled by writing ideas that are the equivalent of finding a single carrot in your fridge. your brain goes "we should write a pirate story" or "we should write a parisian thief caper" and you ask, "all right, what do we cook with that, then?" and it says "no other ingredients (:"

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when i have a crush i dont kick my feet or twirl my hair instead i am in my kitchen at 3am pacing in circles with my hands clasped behind my back like a middle-aged divorced detective haunted by a cold case he just cant crack

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Spock was an incredibly talkative baby. Like, nearly from the day he was born. He cried as a newborn-- something most Vulcan children didn't do, something that Amanda was secretly quite pleased by as it was her own, personal little sign that he had inherited some of her humanity afterall. All through his toddlerhood he'd babbled constantly, and Sarek would nod pensively as if these discussions were quite insightful. "Indeed, Spock, that is quite true," he would confirm stiffly as his son would squeal and babble. "Exceedingly logical, my son."

Amanda found these exchanges endlessly entertaining. At times, Sybok, Michael, Amanda, and Sarek would all sit quietly and watch as little Spock stumbled about their living room, rambling in his own unknown language as he explored around the room.

He quieted down, eventually, as all Vulcan children are taught to, something that silently broke his mother's heart, but Amanda will never deny an opportunity to show what few holograms she managed to capture of that phase-- much to McCoy's delight and Spock's mortification.

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Yall ever take out the top lid of the humidifier and inhale the humidified air coming outta the humidifier hole and start coughing but it tastes nice so you do it again. I do. Good morning

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Michael Sheen retweeted this and my love for him grows every time he calls his Angel out on his bullshit and sides with poor Crowley

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If you have no other option, you will succeed.

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white death could give SOOO vampire as the patriarch of an organized crime clan but his wild unmoisturized hair and unhinged swag slightly gives werewolf. overall though he structurally gives vampire to me. shigeru idk... shigeru can be werewolf like his son. love a good vamp x werewolf romance

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i actually can’t wait to see the captain die actually. i want it to be like the thomas thorne affair where we literally see the light leave his eyes and the soul leave his body. that’s what i want. ough.

[scribhneoirtuirseach]

I’ve been thinking a lot about what Holland’s wife would have been like. He obviously loved her dearly and thought of her highly; her death nearly destroyed him (debatable that it has destroyed him by the time we meet him).

We know she was British and could smell, unlike Holland, but that’s about it.

I wonder whether she took care of him the same way Holly does (verging on acting almost like a parent), or whether she was just as klutzy and silly as he can be. I don’t put 100% of those traits down to his drinking because Holly seems far too used to his behaviour for it to be brand new, although the drinking probably amplifies them.

She was probably kind. Funny. Hot. She probably encouraged and supported him in his slightly questionable career. They probably laughed a lot together. She was probably a good mom to Holly — Holly choosing to sit in ‘mom and dads room’ to read her book for comfort — I imagine she used to read to them when they lived there too.

Holland doesn’t seem want to rebuild his house. He says it will be rebuilt, but grass has grown over the land to the point you wouldn’t tell a house was there at all if you didn’t already know. I think he can’t stand the thought of living there without her, or the thought of the guilt that would consume him in that event.

The thing that really kills me is this though; Holland isn’t seen wearing a wedding ring despite remaining single after her death. We see his hands plenty enough to know this. But look what he has around his neck:

He keeps the ring close to his heart because although he’s legally no longer married, she still lives there 💔

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i loved you like the sun ☀️

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tangerine radiating his transgender swag by wearing the shirt lemon got him for his birthday