#carlos ‘i thought you were over this’ the scientist

[almightytuba]

it’s been too long since ive listen to or made nightvale art!! a quick sketch bc i’m getting back into it :D

[wehaveimagineshere]

May i ask Carlos with a reader who is a microbiologist? Thank you very much!

Typically I need more of a prompt but my brain did well this time, I think! I hope you like what I wrote! <3 And love that there's so much Carlos coming into this inbox!

~*~*~

There were always two nuisances in your lab at any given time.

The first was one Luis Serra.

Annoying was an understatement. He'd crash in like a storm, prattle on about things that aren't even in your paygrade or expertise, ask you out, and then promptly leave when you inevitably turned him down with a promise to always return to see your pretty face.

Rinse and repeat for the next day.

The second is one Carlos Oliveira.

This one was a bit peculiar. Luis was a coworker, a fellow scientist who looked at graphs and microscopes and little living things. Yet Carlos was a soldier, his expertise shooting guns and being able to walk with pounds of armor across his torso.

At no point should his shifts ever bring him directly into the labs, let alone your lab specifically. His spot was along the perimeter of Umbrella's buildings, within the hallways, protecting what the higher ups deemed worth protecting.

So to see him casually walk into your labs, grab a seat, and wait for your acknowledgement always baffled you.

Today is no different.

Leaning back in your chair, you spin to the soldier sitting quietly at the desk opposite your own, his eyes trained on you as you finally ask, "What can I do for you today, Carlos?"

The way his face lights up sends a little flutter into your stomach, and you do your best to ignore it. "Had some time after my shift. Thought I'd swing by. You need anything?"

"Aside from always being up for more coffee, I'm alright." Crossing your legs, you ask, "How was your day?"

"Boring. Some bigwig came by and needed bodyguards, like someone would be stupid enough to try shooting him inside his own company." He rolls his eyes before rolling his chair to your desk so he's across from you. "But that's really nothing new. What about you? Any breakthroughs?"

Sighing, you frown at your frantically scribbled notes scattered across your desk. "One day, but alas, not this day."

"When do you get off?"

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, "Why?"

"I dunno. Was just wondering if you maybe wanted to get some dinner."

"Together?"

"If you're down."

Doing your best to train the utter surprise off your face, and fight down the sudden spike of excitement in your heartbeat, you give his offer some thought. If you accepted, you can only imagine how much hooting and hollering would happen when those who bet on him asking you out received their portion of the betting pot. If you declined, well...

Why, really, would you want to decline?

Subtly wiping your suddenly sweaty hands on your scrubs, you plaster what you hope is a casual smile as you say, "I get off at seven."

An excited and relieved smile blooms across his lips before he quickly tempers it down, smoothing it out into his signature grin. "I'll come back at seven." He moves to rise before pausing. "Unless you want to go home and change first. We could meet at the restaurant."

"Where's the restaurant?" You fish your phone out of your pocket to input the address he tells you. "How about we meet there at eight?"

"It's a date." Standing up, he pushes the chair back to where he found it before crossing to the door. Throwing you a smile over his shoulder, he takes his leave.

Fiddling with your phone as you watch him pass the window, you take a deep breath, willing your heart and mind to still as you tear your gaze away and back to your microscopes.

How in the world are you going to get any work done now?

[faultyvessel]

So I've been downright obsessed with the way the current arc has been teasing Carlos having to look his past in the face and reconcile so here's some random thoughts. Carlos mentions when the U of WII first shows up in ep 212 that he's worried about Lubelle's lack of an ethical code, a trait shared by all of the faculty. We also know that him and Lubelle were grad students together, and that later Carlos goes on to become a member of the U of WII faculty. Carlos mentions how brilliant Lubelle is. Even though he's afraid, he can't fully speak ill of her, almost as though theres a minuscule piece of jealousy left over from bygone days when the two of them would push the limits in their pursuit of (and devotion to) science. Lubelle was always willing to go further, and it ate at him constantly, even when they set out on different scientific paths after school.

It still eats at him now, though for a very different reason.

The Carlos of those pre Night Vale days was less ethical (we've seen the bleed through of this past in his recklessness in It Devours and the lengths he was willing to go for the experiment ). I like to think that in pursuit of his past research, Carlos somehow gets himself into very hot water. (Insert whatever dubious scandal you like) He risks losing everything: name, funding, future. That is, until an old classmate turned faculty head reaches out to him, offering a position at the school and to vouch for him. Carlos accepts and he becomes a member of the faculty. After all, it's only logical to once again combine their great minds together. That far outweighs any previous consequences, and those vanish seemingly forever. Carlos doesn't think twice. He strives even harder now to be ruthless because seeing Lubelle in that position of power has rekindled the competitive jealousy of their grad days. Current Carlos now lies awake, thinking of two situations in his life where another has stepped in to wipe his past clean and give him a fresh start. Thinks about how much destruction is imminent because he's run so far those two iterations of himself have finally collided.

Carlos doesn't want to look that earlier scientist who shook her hand and accepted her salvation in the blink of an eye.

[mychoombatheroomba]

Things I Love About the Shitty Live Action Resident Evil Movies

So, it was my birthday recently and my roommates asked if I wanted to do anything fun. My response, of course, was to suggest getting drunk and watching the live action Resident Evil movies and like, damn, I love those stupid ass movies so much. So I wanted to make a really dumb (and lengthy) post about the goofy things I like, whether for legit or meme reasons.

Y'all, I know they're bad, that is, in fact, why I love them.

1 - The opening is genuinely kinda freaky, like, the elevator scene? Oof, well done suspense

2 - Michelle Rodriguez. That's it, that's the post.

3- The LASER ROOM - so iconic they used it in the games. The first movie came out in 2002, RE4 then used the laser room in 2005, like, y'all, they took that from the goddamn movie, that's how much of a vibe it was

(And honestly, just the Red Queen in general, what an absolute icon, love that her appearance changes in every movie she's in)

4 - Alice is the most fanfic Mary Sue character I've perhaps ever seen on-screen, and I love that for her. Look at her kicking this zombie dog in the face, it's hilarious

5 - Pretty game-accurate costuming? I can dig it

6 - They're gay, your honor

7 - Bad CGI on the Licker, I would expect nothing less

8 - Alice is at her most powerful when she finds a white bathrobe just lying around somewhere

9 - Raccoon City gets destroyed in the course of, like, a day if I'm understanding the timeline right. Like, first infection to nuking the city seems to be about 24 hours. Incredible.

10 - Leon fucking wishes he was Alice, miss ma'am out here driving motorcycles into buildings and then launching them at a monster just to shoot it and blow it up.

(Special mention for another "they're gay, your honor"

11 - You'd think the kid they have to rescue from Raccoon City is Sherry, wouldn't you? An Umbrella scientist's daughter who the gang have to save? NOPE it's Angela Ashford. Not to be confused with the game's Alexia Ashford. Is it an easter egg? A botched cameo? IDK bro, you think they know the lore?

12 - "GTA MOTHERFUCKER" - LJ, before running over a zombie

13 - THEY GAVE NEMESIS A REDEMPTION ARC??? Incredible (not before making him and Alice fist-fight each other)

14 - Keeping with RE tradition, the helicopter almost always crashes.

15 - They just decided, fuck it, let's give Alice superpowers. Also the stupid Umbrella eyes, literally whenever they come up.

16 - The third movie is just Mad Max and Fallout: New Vegas merged together. Also the way they say the whole earth withered and died but later movies very clearly show flora still alive

17 - Why is Jorah Mormont from Game of Thrones here? WHY IS JOHNNY CAGE FROM MORTAL KOMBAT 1995 HERE???

Also why does Wesker look a little like Eminem to me in the third movie?

18 - The amount of just, like, "hey, this monster/character was in the games, let's just put them in the movie anywhere!"

19 - Carlos gets one of the only satisfying death scenes for a named character from the games. And by that I mean he gets one of the only on-screen death scenes for a named character from the games. Slay, king.

20 - Why does the Tyrant look like that?

21 - The army of Alice clones were blonde originally, but all went out and dyed their hair together between movies and I think that's cute.

22 - The timeline is so fucked up, I don't think they even knew how long was supposed to pass between the movies

23 - The way they shoehorned Chris in so bad that, as a kid, I thought he had no importance and they just wanted to give Claire a character to help her with her amnesia (also, Claire having amnesia). The Redfields do get to shoot the shit out of Wesker at the end though, good for them.

24 - THEY'RE GAY, YOUR HONOR

25 - The Executioner from RE5 just like, is in Los Angeles for some reason?

26 - This shot of Wesker.

27 - Wesker takes Alice's powers away in the beginning of the 4th movie, then at the end of the 5th movie he reinfects her with the T-Virus so she can be a superhuman again and just like, bud, you're wildin'. Also it's mentioned in the 3rd movie that Alice's blood could be the cure, and that she could synthesize it once the Tyrant is dealt with? But she doesn't? She just takes the clones of her in the facility instead of using the equipment to make a cure? I know they cure it in the last movie but like, girlie, you could have tried earlier idk. Fascinating.

28 - The opening credits scene for the 5th movie is actually pretty cool

29 - The rest of the fifth movie . . . whatever those writers were smoking, I want some. I know there's literally an Umbrella base in Antarctica in the game but like, idk, having an underwater base where you have multiple city simulations running for BOW production is so funny to me. They've got clones of Carlos and the whole team from the first movie, a random child Alice adopts, Las Plagas lads on motorcycles, more Executioners, Barry (oh, hi Barry!) and damn I love every terrible minute of it.

30 - "The Leon you ordered from AliExpress"

31 - Li Bingbing as Ada, my beloved

32 - Whatever the hell this fight scene is (I am obsessed with it). The sapphic energy of Jill v Alice. Las Plagas giving you instant superpowers. Michelle Rodriguez beating the shit out of Leon Kennedy (mans draws his knife and immediately gets disarmed, Krauser would be so disappointed). Ada just snoozing in the snow the whole time. Cinema.

The music kinda slaps though.

The second half of this where Michelle gets clocked in the face with a fire extinguisher and just looks offended? Immaculate.

33 - Wesker saying that he, Alice, Jill, Leon and Ada are the last hope for humanity from the roof of the White House. What a team.

34 - AND THEN LEON, ADA AND JILL FUCKING DIE OFF SCREEN BETWEEN MOVIES ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? Peak writing right there.

35 - I have never seen the Final Chapter, but I do know that Claire is the only (known) surviving original RE character. Chris is MIA and everyone else is dead. The lesbians win again.

36 - Also there's a character named K-Mart. No notes.

37 - WESKER GETS KILLED BY A DOOR LMFAO

I cannot say I would recommend these movies without the consumption of alcohol involved. Once that's in the mix? They're a great time.

[mrsreginagold]

Fic: It Takes One To Know One

Fandom: ReGenesis

Pairing: David Sandström x Mayko Tran (Dayko)

Rating: PG13

Spoilers: Takes place during season two. Canon-divergent.

Summary: Mayko notices something different about David one quiet afternoon in the lab. 

Author’s note:  This is mainly a result of wanting to put David in glasses because a certain someone looks very good in them.  The most difficult part was writing the subject of their conversation since I am not naturally inclined to science, therefore I kept details rather vague.

It Takes One To Know One

                  The atmosphere at NorBAC was remarkably calm. Granted: it was a summer afternoon, in the middle of the week, and while there was always plenty to occupy the staff who worked there, lazy days could still occur. 

                  It was due to this that Mayko Tran refused to hurry through her current assignment.

                  Of course, that didn’t stop her boss, David Sandström, from loudly yelling out her name as a signal that he wanted her attention on something. Even after all the years they had known each other and being used to his mercurial temperament, she still jumped at the boom of his voice. 

                  With a beleaguered sound, she left her computer running the program that she had been meddling around with and headed up the stairs to the second level, where his office was located. 

                  It was never unusual to find the head scientist for the company seated behind his desk, reading, however there was something markedly different about him that prompted her to halt in her tracks. 

                  She swallowed, her heart catapulting a few times over in her chest. There was no denying that her former professor was an incredibly handsome man. In fact – he tended to flaunt it with his constantly undone collars and jeans that seemed to hug in all the right areas. 

                  What made David particularly irresistible on this day was the fact that he was wearing his glasses. 

                  Memories came flooding in of their brief time together when she was his student. There had been such a forbidden thrill to sneaking out of her college dorm to meet up with him – first for coffee or research sessions, and then eventually for something far more carnal. 

                  Unable to resist, Mayko stared, noting how the oval frames were perched symmetrically on the bridge of his nose. One would assume that the lenses would dull the brilliant blue shade of his eyes, but instead they seemed incredibly vibrant. 

                  It certainly didn’t help matters that he had chosen an aquamarine button down, which he left open liberally at the throat so the hair that peeked over his clavicle was visible to her gaze. 

                  God dammit Sandström. 

                  She cleared her throat to announce her presence, prompting her employer to look up from whatever published paper had consumed his attention. “You bellowed?”

                  “Hey,” he placed the file he was perusing to the side and stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets, and adopting a casual stance. “I wanted to get your eyes on something I thought was, well…really fucking weird,” his naturally deep tone tended to jump down an octave when he was perplexed. 

                  She crossed her arms over her chest and quirked a brow. “That’s your professional opinion? That something is weird?”

                  He rolled his eyes at the playful jab and grabbed a specific paper to clarify his point. “Take a look at these test results and see for yourself.”

                  “Fine,” she pursed her lips, still annoyed but unable to bring herself to fully be mad at him. She walked over to his side and snatched the data from his hands so she could survey it properly. 

                  Her brow immediately furrowed. “What exactly am I looking at?”

                  “Owen’s blood.” He sidled closer. “And before you ask, yes I had Carlos and Bob do this test several times over with different samples.”

                  “But this is impossible,” she inhaled shakily. “David do you know what this could mean?” She turned her head at the same time that he did, her pulse spiraling due to both his proximity and the shock of the information.

                  Despite the severity of what it meant; it was obvious that he was holding back a proud smile. She couldn’t exactly blame him, as it wasn’t the first unique discovery that the lab had made in the past few years.

                  They stared at each other for a few moments, saying nothing, until the excitement finally got the better of him and he suddenly gathered her into a bear hug. 

                  Mayko squealed in surprise at the abrupt behavior, but it was so easy to give in to the temptation of David’s warmth. It wasn’t long before she was reveling in it and breathing in deeply to fully appreciate the spice-laden scent of his cologne.

                  “I take that as soon as it goes through some extra quality checks that you’re going to publish this?” 

                  “Absolutely, it means we can pinpoint addiction to genes and help people like Owen in the future,” he pulled back, framing her face between his hands gently. “It’ll do a lot of good in the future, May.”

                  Her features softened at the use of the nickname. “It’s been a while since you called me that; it’s also been a while since you wore these,” she tapped at the frame of his spectacles. “Did you forget to order more contacts again?”

                  “No…” his hands slid down to hold her by the shoulders, and there was guilt in his tone that suggested it was exactly what had happened.

                  She shook her head in amusement. “You’re a horrible liar. Thing is, though, I always thought they suited you.”

                  “Oh?” now there was marked interest in his perceptive gaze, along with a hint of mischief. “Was that part of the attraction back in the day?”

                  “You’re well aware of how good-looking you are, David Sandström.” She admonished, her fingers twisting into his shirt sleeves since he was making no move to let her go, and frankly she wasn’t about to let him if he did. “Don’t play coy with me.”

                  “I’m not, but it’s been ages since we flirted, and I didn’t want to assume –

                  She cut him off by dragging him forward, her mouth meeting his.

                  While she had startled him, it was quickly made evident that he felt the same way as she did, his arms circling securely around her as the embrace deepened. 

                  Delighted by how eagerly he began to respond, she nipped and teased at his lips, tracing invitingly with her tongue until he accepted, and she was allowed to delve in and explore.

                  In a way: it was as if no time had passed. Kissing David felt as natural as it had in the days when she was his fling, but there was the added benefit of it being right this time around. There was no reason to lament or worry about the future – it was bright and open and becoming clearer by the minute that he wished her to be part of his. 

                  He was the first to part for air, a dazzling grin blossoming over his striking features. “Does this mean that when I invite you to my place tonight for a private dinner, you’ll accept?”

                  “You’re incorrigible. But yes, it’s a date.”

                  His reply was to kiss her again, more passionately than before, and she gladly returned the much-appreciated affection. 

The End

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

Fictober 2023 Day Eight! Prompt: "Give that to me before anything happens."

Pairing: Jill/Carlos (Resident Evil)

Read the story below or on A03!

“I have to say, I didn’t expect to be back here so soon.”

Jill mumbles the words, mostly to no one, but one of the low level lab techs working a few feet away glances in her direction, offering her a tentative suggestion of a smile before returning to their work. Jill exhales, pushing herself up to her feet and grabbing the box she’d been using to collect the various debris scattered around the floor of the mostly ruined laboratory. Glass crunches under her boots as she moves toward the center of the room, dropping the box onto the cart that some BSAA underling had rolled into the room for that purpose. 

The lab and the surrounding areas are certainly busier than they were the last time Jill was here. The walls of Alcatraz echo with noise once more, though the prison is still closed to the public, the governor putting out some half-believable story about the place needing to be spruced up after an influx of recent tourism activity…which is certainly one way of putting it. But the government is nothing if not skilled in dropping a net over most incidents involving bio-weapons, so it doesn’t surprise her that they’ve managed to so effortlessly sweep this under the rug as well. 

Most of the people assigned to clean up duty are the techs that work under Rebecca, the good doctor herself gleefully overseeing the collection of Dylan’s work, all his mad scientist plans for ending the world. Everywhere Jill looks, there’s someone in a lab coat on their hands and knees gathering up biological samples or the bloodied remains of the monster Dylan had become in the end, carefully storing their finds into plastic tubes or bags, labeling them for later. Those that aren’t scrapping biological matter off the floor are collecting bullet casings, sweeping up glass, puzzling over how to repair or contain some of the bigger structural damage. Everyone clearly in their role, a cog turning happily in the BSAA machine, all of this soon to be erased and set to rights like it was never there at all.

And then there’s Jill Valentine, relegated to clean up duty. 

Clearly she’s still on someone’s shit-list. 

“I think this is pretty much the last of it.” Jill turns in the sound of the voice, the first person to break the silence other than herself in the past hour or so, to see Carlos walking into the room with two cardboard boxes stacked in his arms. These he deposits on the same cart holding the others and glances in her direction. “¿Ya casi terminas aquí?” 

“Almost,” Jill says, abandoning her spot by the window. “Though we might want to just cut out before anyone gives us something else to do.” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Chris will probably have me sweeping this whole place.” 

Carlos smirks, which does little to sell his sympathetic expression. “Still in trouble with the big guy, huh?”

This eye roll is far more impressive than the one that has come before it, if Jill does say so herself. “You know how Chris is.” 

“Yeah, braver than me, trying to go against Jill Valentine,” Carlos says with a laugh. “Good luck with that.”

Jill gives him a slap to the shoulder that she’s certain Carlos barely feels anyway, his body solid beneath her touch. “I thought you were on my side.” 

“Oh, I am, querida,” he assures her quickly enough. “I’m just saying. I gotta respect a guy who doesn’t know when he’s been beat.” 

As much as she wishes that were the case… “I mean, I’m stuck here, aren’t I?” Jill scowls, glancing around the makeshift lab tucked beneath the bowels of the most visited prison in the world. “So I guess he won.”

“It’s not so bad, huh?” Carlos says, flipping open the lid on one of the cardboard boxes he’d just brought into the room. “Where else are you going to get to go through some nut job’s diaries?” He holds up a leather bound book, waving it in front of her as though in an effort to entice her interest.

Jill just lifts her eyebrows. “I think I’ve heard enough of his ramblings to last me a lifetime, thanks.” 

Carlos hitches a shoulder in a shrug, flipping through the pages of the book. The spine cracks from the movement, betraying the fact that the book might be a fair amount older than Dylan’s vendetta. The sudden expression of curiosity on Carlos’ face only adds to this suspicion, especially when he says, “Most of this isn’t even in English. Latin or Italian or…no idea.” He hums thoughtfully, flipping through a few pages. “I think this says-” 

Jill reaches over, plucking the book from his hands before he can continue. “Give that to me before anything happens,” she chides, snapping the book shut again. “I don’t think we need to be reading out loud from books written in other languages right now.” 

Carlos laughs but doesn’t protest when Jill drops the book back into the box. “What? Think I’m going to raise the dead or something?”

“At the rate things have been going lately, I’m not sure I would be surprised,” Jill mutters, shaking her head as she noses at a bit of broken glass with the toe of her boot. “Probably best not to take any chances.”

Carlos doesn’t protest this either. They’ve spent enough Saturday nights on the couch with takeout and a terrible 80s B-movie to suggest how that might go. 

“Seriously though, this guy has so much shit,” Carlos grumbles, winding his way through the room, picking up a chair and righting it. “Just once can one of these end-of-the-world types not leave a bunch of crap for the rest of us to clean up?”

Jill laughs, the sound genuine and easy, easier than things have been for the past few days. Her body is too sore and bruised, aching from the loss of adrenaline and from the battering that comes from things like this. An edge of exhaustion sticks to the edges of her thoughts, making everything gummy and slow, the ease of sleep disrupted thanks to the resurgence of old nightmares that this new one has decided to drudge up. Maybe eventually she’ll start seeing Dylan in her mind, start replaying the moments where she thought maybe it would be too late for Chris and for the others, that she might lose the friends that kept her tethered to the world when she otherwise might disappear completely, lost to the blood and gnashing teeth. She might see the monster Dylan had become, might smell the rotting flesh, the blood and burned meat of it. But for now, her mind has been all too happy to replay Jill Valentine’s greatest hits: Raccoon City and Arklay and the Zenobia, Excella and Wesker and all the rest of it. 

Absently, Jill turns back toward the windows, watching a few people in hazmat suits attempt to determine the best way to bag one of the BOW’s severed legs, rotting on the cement floor. She rubs at the scarring on her chest, the ridges and valleys left behind when Chris had prized the device from her skin and tells herself again she should be grateful for it, that a scar is proof that she’d survived long enough to let it form. 

Hands settle, gentle, on her shoulders and Jill jumps, tensing and preparing to whirl around on the defensive before all the rest of it floods her senses -the familiar smell of Carlos, of home, the sensation of his hands rather than anyone else’s- and she relaxes within the next beat of her heart. 

The presence of the one other lab tech in the room doesn’t seem to deter Carlos from stepping closer, from letting his nose brush gently against her temple, nor does it inspire Jill to move away from his touch, letting herself linger even as she tells herself it’s only for a moment. “¿Estás bien cariño?” 

Jill nods but she reaches up, letting her hand settle over his where it still sits on her shoulder. “Yeah. Fine.” 

Carlos hums but doesn’t call her on it. That conversation, if it were to ever come, is for the quiet of the late night hours, the safety of a world that consists only of the two of them, when she allows herself to be held, listening to the sound of his heart beating against the shell of her ear. 

“Thanks,” Jill says, letting the word sit between them for a moment before she quantifies, “for coming to help with all this.”

“Sure thing, Supercop,” Carlos says readily and it sounds like he means it, like he doesn’t mind at all. And Jill figures he probably doesn’t, because he’s Carlos and he has somehow managed to hold onto all the soft, tender parts of himself better than she ever could. “Wouldn’t want you to have all the fun without me.” 

One hand moves from her shoulder to settle on her hip, holding Jill close against him and she glances back to read his expression but his gaze is focused beyond her, out the window to the weapons bay. “That the guy?”

Jill follows his gaze, tries to see the monster as Carlos might, all the ragged bits and pieces of flesh and muscle and bone that had once been a behemoth intending to end the world and her with it. “Yup. Or, I guess, what’s left of him.” 

There’s a pause, the faint flexing of Carlos’ fingers on her abdomen, the movement of his body closer to hers. “I’m glad you’re okay.” This he says quietly, against the crown of her hair, the words meant for just the two of them.

When she’d headed off with Chris and Claire, she’d been brief and dismissive in her voicemail to Carlos, sent when they’d been on the ferry over to the island. At the time, it hadn’t really seemed like it would be much of anything, just a reconnaissance mission to test out Rebecca’s admittedly far-flung theory. Nothing particularly exciting, especially considering that Chris had agreed to let her participate, like she was still delicate and untested even after all these years. But as the hours had stretched out and she hadn’t been able to reach out to anyone, not headquarters, not Carlos, she can only imagine what he’d started to think, how he worries despite his brusque dismissal that he wouldn’t dream of fretting over her. 

It had been a relief to see him, to be home again. Had left her feeling momentarily too choked up to speak, seeing the way he’d looked at her when she’d finally walked in the door. How he’d taken in the blood, the bruising, the new scraps to add to the collection. How the look on his face sometimes brings her back too easily to the moment they’d finally seen one another again after she’d gotten away from Wesker, how sometimes the weight of it makes it hard to breathe even all these years later. 

Jill threads her fingers through Carlos’, squeezing, holding him close, the warmth of his body solid against hers. “Yeah. Me too.”  

[sunniestshark-ocs]

(for Eliot) Betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?, Hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

-Not-so-nice asks from here-

Betrayal:

I will answer this for GT, because her biggest source of betrayal is from her family and you never meet them in the Bleach AU:

Eliot is the second eldest child to the Rios family, her parents powerful nobles of their country that have many of the scientific institutions there wrapped in their financial fingers. Eliot and her older brother Carlo were meant to take over, and were abused and molded into perfect little Rios children- sort of. Eliot rebelled strongly, but her brother always helped her on her path and tried to shield her from their parents. That is... until one day when he was 17 and Eliot was 12, he snapped, got in a fight with their parents, and left. Eliot was crushed in the vacuum of his absence, and would have cowed to her parents had her aunt not saved her a few years later... only for her to be ripped away again and sold into service with the military (long story). The betrayal of her brother leaving her alone at the mercy of her parents still stuns Eliot to this day. He should have taken her; he shouldn't have left at all. Eliot doesn't know if he's alive or dead, but she does know if he ever sees her again, it's on sight.

Eliot tries to be as upfront as she can be with her position as an indentured scientist. But in her position she also doesn't have a lot of close friends, and no family. She has Gulzar, her best friend, and she has Jack, her girlfriend (who has to leave Eliot behind when they both planned to escape). But she also has her handler, Selephiel, who she'd convinced that she at least liked working under them... until Eliot managed to find her own escape and killed two other Melek and maimed Selephiel to do it. Eliot doesn't consider it a betrayal to Selephiel but she does feel like she betrayed Glulzar by leaving them behind. Much in the way she'd been left behind by her brother and Jack. She tries not to think about it too much.

Hide:

There's not a lot Eliot is able to hide from people; she has very big emotions that she doesn't often bother to keep to herself after years of suppressing them to fit into her family and fall in line. I'm honestly trying to think about what she hides and it's really not... much? There's even a part in her story where she does something really, really bad (stealing a corpse and smuggling a high risk prisoner out to help her) and she SHOULD be keeping that a secret, doesn't, in fact like manically admits the fact to a ton of people and only gets away with it because she's grieving and no one believes her. RIP.

[mysticstronomy]

DOES THE PAST STILL EXIST??

Blog#241

Wednesday, November 2nd, 2022

Welcome back,

What is happening right now? Is your “now” the same as my “now”?

It seems like a simple question, that is, until you introduce relativity. You see, you and I experience time differently. For one of us, time is moving slower. Two events that you see in succession I see as happening at the same time. What is now is fuzzy, according to relativity.

Over the years, scientists and philosophers have come up with different ways to help think about how time, existence, and the now fit together. In a recent paper, Carlo Rovelli of the Centre de Physique Théorique (CPT) of the Aix-Marseille University suggests that perhaps we need a new way to define reality and the now.

Previously, there have been two main ways to understand the progression of time.

In the first, there is an objectively real present. Events in the past and in the future do not exist. The only reality, the only thing that is real, is the present. This idea is called Presentism.

This idea, however, runs into some serious problems when you start taking into account relativity. To see why let’s do a thought experiment.

Let’s imagine that you are standing on the ground in the middle of a lightning storm. You see two bolts of lightning hit the ground, one to your left and one to your right. Both bolts were the same distance from you. Because of this, the light from both bolts had the same distance to travel to you. This leads you to believe that the bolts hit the ground simultaneously.

At the same time, however, there is an airplane traveling through the clouds. Passengers on this airplane also see the lightning bolts as their airplane is exactly midway between them. But what they perceive is different from you.

Originally published on www.forbes.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, November 5th, 2022)

"WILL TIME EVER END??"

[rindomness]

what do you like about Carlos? (jackdaw) ( grdhgfyg my questions are basic because I do not know much about wtnv but don’t mind being spoilt)

FAIR WARNING: this is, like, really long? it is five pages long and that's on 11pt Arial in google docs, where I had to copy and paste it so I could fix paragraph spacing so it would post. Also, I like, legit cried while writing this? So there is that also. like thank you for the blorbo talking enabling but also i do not know if you fully grasp what youve unleashed. idk if i fully know what youve unleashed

Because what don't I like about Carlos? He is my chief blorbo. He is the Guy I think the most about. I'm a little bit beyond just blorbo thoughts about him.

Okay let's break this down a little bit 'cause there's, to put it simply, a lot. Like, fifteen thousand words and counting of fic a lot? Also, I'm gonna be getting into, like, super recent stuff and also It Devours! here so just heads up on that

So. Carlos. Carlos shakes up the entire status quo, helps put the world back together, and becomes a critical element of Night Vale. That's on a narrative level. I'm gonna start with that because that's easier for me to talk about and also won't get me called out quite as quickly!

Carlos is a driving force in the narrative, in the world. Carlos shows up in town at the very start of the podcast, says he is here to study the most scientifically fascinating place in the U.S., and proceeds to uproot every single bit of Night Vale's centuries-long status quo. Carlos shows up and turns the entire universe on its head, at least in Night Vale. If I'm going to talk about how powerful, exactly, Carlos's impact is, I need to talk about Cecil. Of course I have to talk about Cecil.

Cecil announces, on live radio, that he fell in love with Carlos immediately. Cecil instantly attaches his attention to Carlos. I talked about this a little bit more in the Night Vale essay (over here) but Cecil is vital for the continued functioning of Night Vale. In mundane terms, Cecil on the radio serves as a giver of instructions and updates and ways to stay safe in this unbelievably dangerous town. In a less mundane sense, he's the Voice of Night Vale, which is an actual title, and sort of... represents his place as the center of Night Vale's community (which contains that more mundane element) and also as the center of this weird little pocket universe Night Vale is stuck in for the first five years at least. Because Huntokar loves Night Vale and Huntokar loves Cecil and Huntokar is a god and a god's love can be a dangerous thing.

But Cecil falls in love with Carlos. Carlos, who is a scientist, who deals in observation and acknowledgement and recording information and learning from it all. Things which Night Vale, a town with a very tenuous grip on its own reality, is innately allergic to. Night Vale is built upon the necessity of ignorance and denial for survival and continued existence. It depends on Cecil, the Voice of Night Vale, not changing, not growing, not looking, not for real. And he falls in love with a scientist, and he changes.

Narratively, it's absolutely insane how much power Carlos holds. Given the rules of the universe, Carlos is incredibly powerful. In Night Vale, perception is reality and acknowledgement becomes a threat to the powers that be. If it were anyone except Carlos, there is absolutely no way that any of the enforcement entities in town would let him get away with even a little bit of what he's able to. But Cecil loves him. I fully ascribe to the idea that Carlos's miraculous rescue and survival in One Year Later is because of Cecil, and Cecil refusing to accept that Carlos was dead. Cecil is powerful. And he's been protecting Carlos, in ways he might not even realize. Which means that Carlos is free to acknowledge Night Vale's weirdness, and because perception is reality in Night Vale, it changes for him.

I'll get back to this more later, but you see this a lot with the University of What It Is. If anything, that's what the UOWII arc is about. It's been a thesis since at least Who's A Good Boy? and Cecil wandering through the ruins of Night Vale, announcing that he must bear witness, even though he is sure his mic is not broadcasting to anyone. Perception is reality and acknowledgement is what is keeping Night Vale together post-Matryoshka and what kept it from toppling into the abyss to begin with. Carlos becomes unbelievably powerful in this way, in this understanding of the power of observation and recording. (I promise we will get back to the UOWII but I want to spend actual time on that and I have other stuff I wanna talk about first.)

Carlos does not seem to realize this, though, not for a while. I personally don't think that it really clicks for Carlos entirely what perception is reality means in the case of Night Vale until somewhere around Toast. I do not think it really clicks for Carlos how important he has become here, how much of an impact he has had, until reality itself starts to fall apart. The key of Carlos, and Carlos's impact, and what makes this Night Vale the True Night Vale as opposed to any of the other Night Vales we learn about, is the presence of Carlos. Every Night Vale has a Cecil, because the existence of Night Vale hinges on the existence of Cecil. There is only one Carlos, though.

Carlos only exists in this one reality. Carlos only exists in this one version of Night Vale. And we see how much that has changed things! We see it in The Missing Sky, when we hear the miniature city's Cecil and how sad he is. This Cecil is despondent, and cannot see any reason to keep going. He is deep, deep in a terrible dissociative depression, reporting on a pointless war and a missing sky and a god he believes has abandoned them. We see it in Cal, with the version of Cecil who never met Carlos, either, and Cal himself. The simple, stated question of "do you have a girlfriend yet?" sets all the scene we need for Cal. This Cecil does not have a Carlos, and he does not even have the safety in the knowledge that Night Vale is a safe place for him to announce, loudly, to the whole world, that he loves another man. And it's... depressing.

The podcast is from Cecil's point of view, so we get most of this information from listening to Cecil talk. We don't really see Carlos's perspective often, if ever, if not filtered through the way he interacts with Cecil. For that, I take us now to It Devours! because oh boy. It is very clear that Carlos loves Cecil very very deeply. If only from what we get in voicemails and phone calls. I haven't listened to it, but my understanding is that he's very clear about his love for Cecil in Condos, too. And we get it from his actions in Taking Off/Review and the way he picks up everything he's been doing for a year in the desert otherworld to go back to Night Vale and to Cecil because he loves Cecil and wants that to be his home.

Except, it wasn't a year. It was ten. And this information is revealed right alongside Carlos cares about the people he loves more than anything and the book-long element of Carlos trying, despite the wishes of City Council, to investigate the desert otherworld. I have written so much about the desert otherworld, and I will write more, because holy shit. Holy shit. I'm not going to tell you what it is because it made me almost scream for real in the very early hours of the morning when I heard it, but the information that is revealed in the very end of It Devours! is heartbreaking. Carlos cares about the people he loves more than anything, and it brings him right to the brink of destruction, because of how much he cares about Cecil and this new family he has found through Cecil. And throughout It Devours! you get such a clear idea of just how much Carlos loves Cecil, how much knowing Cecil has changed Carlos right back.

And, like, the autistic coding. It is blatant. It is obvious. It is much harder to overlook it than to notice it. It is intentional. We're getting to the part here where I might be calling myself out a little bit but like. The way that it weaves into how he expresses his love for Cecil and for Night Vale. It's the way that it is channeled through his science, and how his science helps him make sense of the world. I love him, and I love how he is written in such a way that his science has become the lens through which he navigates the world and this step-by-step justification of his existence. The way that this plays into the ongoing belongingness element of his arc throughout the podcast. 

He starts as an outsider, and he stays an outsider, and just as he's starting to think he might not be an outsider, well. The desert otherworld happens. And I've definitely worked through a lot of these thoughts already but that's what it comes down to! I cannot help but read his belongingness arc as innately tied into how he is written as autistic because that's just what it's like to grow up autistic! You don't belong anywhere, or at least that's what you're told. If you're a lucky one, that message isn't stated explicitly, but it's there. Of course he's cautious with his assertion he belongs in Night Vale! It would be a wonder if he wasn't!

So he does not know how important he is until he is forced to see it and then as soon as he is forced to see it it becomes his whole world. And every time I think about how there is only one Carlos across every single Night Vale in existence (or tentative non-existence), I have to think about how he believed he should not return to Night Vale because the door had shut for him, and how this led to spending a full ten years in a lonely and empty desert otherworld while Cecil fell apart back in Night Vale. I think about Cecil's sobbed I am still holding the trophy in One Year Later, and I think about Carlos grounds me in Delta and I think about how, in The Promise of Time, his joy at the end was for himself and Carlos, and I think about his panicked I have to call Carlos as soon as the warrant goes out in The Heist Pt. 3. And because of that... Night Vale attaches its reality to Carlos, too.

Night Vale cannot exist as it is now without both of them. There is only one version of Carlos across every single version of Night Vale. Carlos makes Night Vale what it becomes, because he witnesses. He witnesses and he records it all and he investigates and he understands. Besides Cecil, I do not think there is a single person in town other than Carlos who truly understands Night Vale. He understands it through scientific observation and archival and experimentation. Carlos pokes the boundaries to see how they'll react to him but he never crosses them, never breaks them. He does not feel the need to explain why Night Vale is the way it is now, because it simply is. He is observing the laws of this town (both legal and physical) and he respects them and nods as he passes.

Which brings us back to the University of What It Is. I said we'd come back to this, didn't I? I don't know how much I can say that doesn't lead to speculative conclusions here, because the UOWII arc isn't finished at the time of writing, but there are some things that have been laid out clearly. Janet Lubelle does not stop for anything or anyone. Janet Lubelle is what the UOWII considers to be the height of a successful scientist. Carlos used to also be considered a successful scientist, and then he came to Night Vale, and he lost whatever quality it was that the UOWII considered a qualifier of success.

Janet Lubelle does not respect the rules of Night Vale. It's very, very easy to see Dr. Lubelle as a foil for Carlos, especially since they came from the same institution. Only, Dr. Lubelle tramples over those boundaries, those unspoken (and, arguably, spoken) rules that make Night Vale what it is. She is here for an explanation for everything and she will not stop until all the mystery, all the wonder, is gone. And she calls it science. 

And if you go back far enough, Carlos talked like this too! He was looking for an explanation to Night Vale's temporal weirdness, an explanation for its weird seismic activity, an explanation for the house that does not exist. But he adapted, and he learned, and he observed, and he took his time and did not simply enforce his way of things onto the world without its permission.

Carlos feels like a love letter to science and the scientific way of observing the world and falling further in love with it through that scientific inquiry. I'm going to get a little, uh, sappy and personal here, so fair warning, but I likely have that reading because that's been how I've lived my whole life. I was talking to someone even just today about how, when I was little, my dad would take us out onto the back patio and we would set things on fire and see what we could burn to make the fire different colors. 

I've grown up with parents who deeply, truly love science. My mom has a physics degree. My dad has a math one. He still texts my family group chat every day to inform us it is pi time at 3:14. Every day. So maybe it's that, and maybe it's growing up with an understanding of the world that is rooted in scientific inquiry and questions and exploration, but Carlos feels like a love letter to science to me.

Carlos comes in and he turns the entire world on its head as he does it and he finds, at the end of the day, that he loves Night Vale. He loves Night Vale because it's so weird. It's the most scientifically fascinating place in the U.S. and this becomes his way of saying I love you. I want to understand you. Science, through Carlos, is its own sort of faith in the world and the way it is all put together, how everything connects. And Night Vale loves him back for it. He'll poke and prod at the edges but he will never cross them if he knows crossing will do harm, even if he does not fully understand why, because following an ever-growing series of whys is what science is about. Not having one single explanation at the end of the day. 

Carlos's exploration of Night Vale changes it, because it must change, everything must change eventually in order to continue to exist, and Carlos does what he can to help it not fall apart completely as it does. Carlos becomes more Night Vale as time progresses, and Night Vale lets more of Carlos in, until he is so enshrined in it that it is just his life. Night Vale lets him rest, and here, in this weird, weird town that is so incredibly hard to find, he finally finds a place he belongs. I don't know what isn't to love about that.

[carnation-notebooks]

Thots on Kevin? (I miss my fucked up boy)

I also miss him its ok if we close our eyes and hope really hard-

But i have so many thoughts.

I really like how, hes like messed up and they keep those traits, like they never change him to make those traits rlly go away, but you get more info and learn little things about him. Its just neat i like how he doesnt Change, but you still kinda get endeared to him!

Another thing is, i know why people ship him and carlos, because of the DOW Ep with them, but personally i think he's just bpd-ing, expecially because its not like, dangerous or unhealthy either. He just gets sad when Carlos leaves him. Fp leaving would make him sad. I personally see it as carlos is one of his /p fps!

Grips the plot point of The Smiling god rebuilding him whenever he dies vs Huntokar replacing cecil. Thats a whole nother post tho.

I saw a post abt this a while ago and idk it stuck with me which was, Cecil unlearned/questions the things that were drilled into him growinf up, because of Carlos, who is a scientist and therefor questions Everything, but Kevin Will not, because Charles is a theologist, aka he studies God, aka the smiling god. He'll never unlearn/question it because Charles wont.

I really just love perma smiling character designs, or characters who are smiling until something Really hits them hard. Idk im sure theres a mental illness/trauma reason behind that kne but!!

And to finish off!!! In the episode where we hear from Pre-Strex Kevin, i couldn't help but think, When Strex was taking over night vale but they fought back and WON, was he envious? His town tried to as well but they failed, and probably assumed it couldnt be done, so when Night Vale did it, how did he feel? Did it hurt him? Does he even Remember Desert Bluffs fighting back?

Anyways thag ks all for now ive been writing for 20 mins and i need to get home from work! Ty for askimf tho hes sooo special to me:) there r more thoughts abt him tho

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 25

*Warning Adult Content*

- John -

"Ow..."

"Hold still."

I wince as David cleans the bite on my shoulder with a cloth dipped in rubbing alcohol.

He crouches in front of me as I sit on the couch, nursing a bad mood.

I've always been a bit of a sore loser.

"You know this wouldn't have happened if you'd simply admitted the truth," David murmurs.

"Blaming the victim, huh? Classic abuser."

"Oh, stop."

David tsks at me fondly and smooths a band-aid over each of the two puncture marks.

Of my various injuries, they alone have yet to heal, the bite of another vampire being one of the few things that can inflict lasting damage on our kind.

"Sometimes we must learn through experience and you've never felt so strongly about another person before as you do about Carlos. Have you?"

"No," I admit grudgingly. "I haven't."

David nods and pushes himself to his feet, resting a hand on my uninjured shoulder.

"I wondered if you ever would, you know."

"Guess I'm deficient that way."

"That isn't what I mean. John, there's a difference between desire, the desire to eat or fuck or sleep and... love."

Startled by the word, I look up at him.

He smiles.

"You know me, John. You know I would never harm or use someone the way I threatened to do. So what made you come at me?"

"You frightened and upset someone I care for, that's why."

"Exactly. Someone you care for. There's the difference and that's the proof I was after. If your attachment to him was merely instinctual, hunger or lust, I'd have been far less concerned. You may not be fully turned but you still have... appetites. On the other hand, a true bond is one formed between equals and it can be a source of great strength or of great pain. Because I care for you, I want to help you avoid the latter."

"How? By taking Carlos away with you and holding him hostage in San Francisco? By experimenting on him in your mad scientist lab? By keeping us apart?"

David squeezes my shoulder and releases it, letting his hand drop to his side.

"By keeping you both safe, John. You've sensed the light inside him, haven't you? The thing that makes him shine in the dark?"

I nod.

"Yeah. He said that's why he used to get possessed. Things were attracted to him."

"That's a symptom of why but not the source. Do you know who his father is?"

"He hasn't mentioned one."

"Interesting."

David turns and walks to the windows, gazing out at the view with his hands clasped behind his back.

Outside, the world is swiftly darkening, the sun having set and the last pink and gold light fading to a bruised purple black.

It will be safe for David to leave soon.

The thought begs a question.

"How did you get here, anyway?"

"I flew. My plane is at the little airport outside town. From there, a took a limousine."

"Right."

I rub the back of my neck.

Despite having been raised by him, I sometimes forget David is as rich as Bruce Wayne.

"You want a drink?"

He waves an elegant hand in wordless refusal.

I probably can't afford anything he'd consider palatable, anyway.

He never made a big deal of his wealth and while he'd ensured I had everything I needed growing up, he also instilled a sense of self-determination in me that made me reluctant to accept his help.

He'd offered me money more than once but I'd never accepted it.

Leaving him to his ruminations, I go into the kitchen, get down a bottle of bourbon and pour myself a generous glass.

"Will you return home tonight?" I ask, calling across the open space of the lower floor.

"That depends."

David turns away from the window to face me as I return to where he stands.

"What do you intend to do about your... situation?"

Frowning, I swirl my drink and take a bigger gulp than is good for me.

It burns all the way from the back of my mouth to the pit of my stomach, where it comes to rest like a hot coal.

"Isn't there something you can do? Make me forget about him. Wipe my mind."

"Is that really what you would want?"

"If it stops me from killing someone that I... care about... then yes. Unless there's another way this ends, I don't see how else to keep him from getting hurt."

"Well, there is one way, one very risky, potentially deadly way but probably the only way that promises any chance of happiness for you both."

"What way?"

"Bite him. Infect him with your blood. If he survives and if you manage not to kill him... he will become like you and you will become like me. I can guide you, help control the process. The chances of success are still not wonderful but they won't be as abysmal as if you were left on your own."

I shake my head.

"That's a decision I can't make alone. And what he if refuses? You saw how freaked out he was."

"One thing I have learned over the years, John, is that humans are remarkably adaptable animals. Their realities can shift rapidly and after a brief period of adjustment, what once would have seemed unthinkable, alien and strange becomes commonplace and accepted. Give him time, you have some left."

"What about distance? Taking him with you?"

David sighs.

"That would be the safest option, undoubtedly but you are right, I can see he won't accept it and whatever decision you reach, you must reach it together and on your own. In the meantime, the best I can offer is to erect a mental barrier for you, a sort of psychic prophylactic, if you will. It won't affect your bond and it won't stop you from losing control if you're not careful but it will help you keep your emotions in check."

"Fine. Do it."

- John -

I set my drink down and approach him.

He rolls up his sleeves.

"Are you certain, John? I won't do this, in fact, I can't do this, without your absolute trust."

I meet his eyes.

I know mine hold a challenge and a trace of lingering anger but they also hold the truth.

"You have it."

"Very well."

He places his hands on either side of my head and his eyes shift from dark gray to transparent silver.

"Let our thoughts be one."

He touches my mind like the brush of a feather or like a breath of air on silk.

The effect is startling and instant, like being in a loud restaurant full of chattering people and then shutting my eyes and putting noise-cancelling headphones on.

Calm. Still. Strong.

David's presence in my mind is like a mountain, immovable, venerable and tranquil as ancient stone and familiar as home.

He used to do this, I recall, after I was infected at first, every day, gradually less and less often.

Now, it's been years since the last time we shared a mental link and I can't remember ever experiencing it quite so intensely.

"Someday this will be yours," he says, his voice sounding in my mind.

"For now... share of it. Every nature has two faces. This is the unseen side of ours. Peace, John, comes from within."

He releases me and when I open my eyes and take a breath, I feel lighter and freer than I have in a long time.

"Is that what it's like?" I ask. "Eternity?"

He shrugs.

"I highly doubt we are truly immortal. But yes, as fearsome and insatiable as our hunger, so too, when fulfilled, is our satisfaction. The longer we live, the more powerful we become, the deeper and longer it lasts. Mine is enough to share and I am old enough to enjoy a bit of youthful fire in return."

"Why can't we just keep doing this, then?"

"It's a temporary measure," he says. "A masking of symptoms, not a treatment of disease. The disease or 'dis-ease' quite literally will continue to progress unseen. Little by little, the link will lose its effectiveness, until your inner turmoil outweighs my inner calm. Then we will truly be in trouble."

He laughs, a sound as rich and smooth as good dark chocolate, as if the idea is a mildly entertaining prospect and not a promise of pure chaos and terror.

"Right. In the meantime, I guess wouldn't mind if you want to stick around. I don't know how but I have a bad feeling that Carlos is connected to this case more deeply than we know. How many coincidences does it take before you have to accept something isn't a coincidence?"

"I can stay for a few days," David says.

"After all, I came all this way to ensure you were safe, I'm not about to leave without knowing this solution, temporary though it is, will work."

"Good. Besides, you owe me a new TV."

David surveys the wreckage of the living room and frowns apologetically.

"Ah. Yes. I'll write you a check." Fine. Now for the other half of the equation."

Sighing, I head upstairs.

The door to Carlos's room is closed and I hesitate before knocking quietly.

I wait, knock again and call his name.

Not wanting to disturb him if he's sleeping, I try the handle, find it unlocked and let myself in.

The room is empty.

All of his things are gone.

I don't need to search the whole house to know, with sudden and chilling certainty, that Carlos is gone, too.

I sprint back downstairs, snatch my phone from the table and call him.

Instant voicemail.

"Fuck."

I grab my wallet and keys from the hook on the wall and stride for the door.

"John? What's the matter?"

"He's split."

"Well, perhaps it is for the best. Give him some time to adjust."

"Not tonight."

I shake my head.

"Tonight is when the second ritual's supposed to happen and Carlos is a prime target."

"Ah... This 'Feast of Blood' you mentioned?"

"That's the one."

"Sounds like something I ought to be invited to," David says mildly.

"I'll get my coat."

Despite the serenity imparted by the link, anxiety hums beneath the surface of my mind and I know it won't stop until Carlos is safe and I have him in my arms.

I also know it's already too late.

I'm not sure 'love' is the word, yet but what David said is true, I care about him and don't think I can let him go without hurting us both.

[desert-bluffs-and-me]

WTNV quick rundown - 70A - Taking Flight

Featuring the voice of Dylan Marron as Carlos the Scientist and Kevin R Free as Kevin of Desert Bluffs.

Kevin: We all have to start somewhere. We all have to end somewhere too, but let’s concentrate on the other thing. Welcome to… well… hrmm. Welcome to a Desert Otherworld.

This episode marks the first time that Kevin has broadcast from the desert otherworld, which he says needs a better name because names are everything. At the end of the episode, he decides to call the town Desert Bluffs after his hometown. He's very optimistic about gaining listeners even out there.

Kevin tells us that the giant masked warriors have been welcoming to some outsiders, but not others, and that he plans to interview them later. Currently however, he has Carlos on the phone to talk about what he's been doing.

Carlos is trying to find out why their phones have signal and don't lose battery/the source of the desert otherworlds energy. He is interupted by Doug and Alicia taking some of his things to go to war with another group of masked warriors and then interupted by them again when they return, ruining his lab by getting blood all over it (Kevin makes an ummm...interesting sound at the mention of blood).

Carlos is extremely worried for his wounded, giant masked friends and drops his research to try and stop them going to war. Kevin however is still preoccupied with getting Carlos' report, seemingly very invested in the scientific breakthrough Carlos is on the verge of but also ignoring how Carlos is basically having the worst possible day.

All of his research is destroyed by the end of the episode, which pushes him into writing and giving Kevin a goodbye letter 'to a friend' about - '[...]regrets. About mistakes. You know how sometimes you spend a lot of time with someone and you think that someone makes you happy, but then suddenly, one day, you realize maybe you weren’t happy at all. Maybe you both would be better off doing what you love, in different places. Without each other. Maybe neither of you were as happy as either of you thought.' Carlos thanks Kevin for being so kind to him throughout this difficult 'year' and leaves the studio.

Kevin doesn't seem to realise that the letter was meant for him and that Carlos' talk about spending his year wrong was about the time spent in the desert otherworld, but does read the letter and feel (perhaps for the first time in a long time) genuine sadness.

Weather: "Pyramid" by Jason Webley http://jasonwebley.com

Kevin hates pasta salad, even the sight of it causes him to heave.

Alicia built a refrigerator from some cactus pads, twine and three different kinds of birds.

The rollercoaster that was built and can't be stopped, despite having no power, has a tall first hill and a 90 degree drop off that is almost 600 feet. Then it goes into a series of loops, turns and figure eights. Then some spirals where the riders go upside down several times per second. Then there's a sheet of flames that you go through upside down.

Kevin's radio tower is made of stones and adobe and shoots actual radio waves out of the top which appear as blue lightning bolts.

The giant masked warriors apparently helped Kevin decorate his studio with lizards and rodents. Though since Kevin also referred to the Shawns as 'helping him decorate' when he meant 'murdered them for decoration', I wonder if um...did Kevin uh...the giant masked warriors...

Intern Vanessa and her double are apparently there, and Kevin urges anyone with experience in various areas to send in their resume somehow and come help out.

Alicia loses two fingers in the masked warrior battle.

Winds get so bad in the desert otherworld that they create sun-blocking dust storms which hurl plant debris and 'weak willed' animals through the air.

Kevin says he actually enjoys reporting unhappy things because after that he gets to talk about how good it is that those unhappy things are no longer happening. For example, when an outbreak of throat spiders finally ends and people stop losing their lives and/or parts of their face to it.

There's no postal service in the desert otherworld yet.

Carlos seems almost confused that Kevin had decorated his booth with blood asking if it's 'barbecue source' before being corrected with Kevin openly saying it's blood, old bones, lose teeth, beaks and 'things'. .

Kevin seems to really like Carlos, calling him a brilliant scientist, indirectly calling him a ray of sunshine and showing a lot of faith in his work (whilst being a bit pushy, but nonetheless supportive and witha grasp of science that Cecil doesn't have).

Proverb: A rose by any other name is called something else.

[asydicsydney]

Two for one deal on old NV fics!! Selling fast!!!

Wrote these in September off of some prompts for my Creative Writing class

"The place was weird"

"The date was romantic"

6/15/2012

I arrived in Night Vale just yesterday with my team, and I’m glad we got here when we did. Green clouds hung overhead as we unloaded our van into the new lab, the one next to Big Rico’s Pizza. Rochelle practically dragged me out the front door so we could acquire a general understanding of the scientific anomalies plaguing this town. But first, we were headed downtown to City Hall for a press conference held by yours, reluctantly, Carlos.

During that five-or-so minute drive, I’d witnessed the most intriguing things in all my years of being a Scientist, capital S. Rain poured over one citizen in particular who had a “just-fired aura” around them. Ghastly noises emanated from the library, an old building long due for repairs but not granted by the city because of capital constraints, or perhaps, that no one dared go in. As Rochelle pulled into the City Hall parking lot (I was panicking too much to remember which is the gas pedal) we saw men and women in bold black suits and wearing dark sunglasses. Rochelle claimed that they looked menacing. I contended they were more vague than menacing. Parallel to the vague and/or menacing people in sunglasses were great winged beings, shuffling behind the last row of fold-out chairs. As I exited the van, two of the beings stared at me with hundreds of eyes and I felt the void choke my vision. They spoke, or perhaps projected their thoughts into my brain, and bellowed that the savior of Night Vale had arrived. I was too busy going over the speech in my head to really pay attention to thought projections of prophecies.

“The most scientifically interesting community in the US” was certainly the nicest way to convey my fears. Thankfully, the hard part—public speaking—is over and I can relax in the lab by getting a few experiments in before I pass out. Although, my scientific instinct is pointing me in the direction of that peculiar radio man with his three piercing violet eyes. Maybe I could drop by the station for a minute? For science of course, always for science.

I flip my mic off and the weather report on in one clean motion, drilled into my routine from innumerable years at the station. What I don’t expect is a knock on the studio door.

“Sorry to bother you during the weather, Mr. Palmer, but the scientist called in asking for you and I thought-”

I cut off the new intern, “Oh, sweet Carlos! Why didn’t he just call me directly? His brain is probably all frazzled with a new experiment. Can you wire him to the studio phone, Grace? I can push your other duties onto Aaron so you can leave early.”

“Oh yes, right away, sir! Thank you, sir!” It’s good to incentivize a little friendly competition between interns. And I feel oh so giving when Carlos is involved. Speaking of…

“You are on the air! Tell me, our gorgeous local scientist, why are you calling in today?”

“Cecil, hey. The weather’s playing, right? I’m not actually on air?”

I giggle. “You caught me, dear Carlos. Good to know you’re tuning in.”

He giggles back. “I couldn’t turn the dial if I tried, Ceec. Everytime I try the radio starts smoking. I’ve been meaning to investigate that actually. If I could just find a screwdriver-” The line is smothered between a labcoat-clad shoulder and his scratchy beard and I hear drawers being opened and closed two at a time before he speaks again. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t call for you to hear me all sciency. I-”

“Carlos, talking science is a more than okay reason to call. But, yes, I would love to know what was so urgent that couldn’t wait ‘till dinner.

“I-it’s about dinner, actually. Cecil, I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can make it.” Drawers stop opening.

“Well, Carlos-”

“I know I keep cancelling dates week after week. It’s just- I keep getting new projects a-and my mind still zeros in on all the science. I swear I’m not purposefully missing them and I-” The ramblings turn to tiny mutters, only audible through my radio headset, “I hope you don’t hate me.”

“Carlos, doll, I didn’t start dating a scientist assuming he’d drop his life’s work to have a few drinks. I simply want you to know that you are loved.”

“Aww, Ceec, I love you t-”

“Which is why I will be at your doorstep approximately eight minutes and 34 seconds after I close the show.”

“Wait, Ceec, what-”

“Do good science!” I say as I end the call. Oh, I hope Carlos will just love my plan! Aaand, that’s the weather report ending. The rest of today should be a breeze.

I straighten out my outfit, a black cat onesie, as I set the Rube Goldberg-esq contraption into motion next to the lab door. The marble is almost to the doorbell when the door opens, and there stands my slightly disheveled but still perfect boyfriend.

“Cecil, what ar-” The marble hits the doorbell and we stare into each others eyes as the sound of geese being cooked alive echoes off the sterile white walls of the lab. When it’s completely gone, I shift the takeout bag to solely reside on my left and extend my right hand in a ‘Continue’ gesture.

“What are you doing here? You ended the call before I could respond with a question or anything. I became so unfocused…I have a lot of science left to do, Cecil.”

I click my tongue at the completely expected outcome. “Well that certainly won’t do. Alright, you go finish your science, and I-” I brush past him as I enter the small waiting area (really just two plastic chairs and empty labcoat hooks), “-will get started. Oh, this will be so neat! I’ll leave you to your science.” Carlos closes the door behind us and I plant a kiss on his cheek before I close myself off in his upstairs apartment.

“I- a- okay?”

“Knock knock knock,” says the corner of the wall as I alert Carlos of my presence.

“Hey… I’m almost done writing these numbers, okay? What’s that smell?” He pulls his eyes away from his notebook for the first time in 40 minutes and I truly see the darkness circling those brown gemstones.

“That smell is a fresh pot of tomato soup with your name on it. Do you… label your kitchen utensils?”

“I don’t label them, Cecil, I name them.”

“Well, can Carlos the Scientist join me for some soup?”

He sighs into his notebook but leaves the numbers unwritten.

“He can.”

Soup for two above an empty lab is neat.

[dykeyote]

gay rep is like "i like a boy ...... but he ignores me because he thinks my very normal town is weird and disturbing and a scientific anomaly ?!?!?!?!?!?! D:" whereas gaybait is like " Oh! And speaking of sunshine, Carlos just arrived here, live in the studio with me! Carlos? Did you go out in this weather? You’re covered in dust, and those look like friction burns in the shape of lab goggles on your face. Are you okay? Did Doug and Alisha make it back? Not yet, they... What is this all over your studio? Is that barbecue sauce?Oh, that? That’s just blood! And some old bones, and loose teeth, and beaks and things. I finally decorated, thanks for noticing! And I just notice you have a piece of paper in your hand! That must be your final report! Look at how we both notice things about each other! I love that! I... I, um... Well, you sound sad. Which is great news, because it means you’ll be happy again eventually! It’s a tough day, what with all the weather and the wars and the blood. But you’re boyfriend will soon be moving from Night Vale to come live here with you! Well, um…about that…And? And? You finally have the scientific results of your hard scientific work! I don’t. I don’t have results, Kevin! When the army marched out again I went back to trying to recover my notes. I had just gotten the lab desktops clean when Alisha’s large dog bounded through the lab and out the front door, sending every glass tube and jar crashing onto the floor. When I bent over to see the damage, I saw my computer there too, just on the tiles, snapped nearly in half, a tuft of white fur covering the keyboard, singed slightly by the smoke streaking out of the broken monitor. I lost it all, Kevin. My entire year of study is gone. What’s the paper, then? Did you at least learn some of your results? This is nothing. It’s, um, just a letter I wrote to, uh…a friend. Oh? I love letters! Letters are so fun to receive! Mm, not this one. Its a sad letter. About regrets, about mistakes. You know how sometimes you spend a lot of time with someone, and you think that the someone makes you happy, but then suddenly one day you realize…maybe you weren’t happy at all. Maybe both would be better off doing what you love in different places. Without each other. Maybe neither of you were as happy as either of you thought. That is a sad-sounding letter. I don’t understand or like that at all. I have spent the last year all wrong. I believe in you, Carlos! Don’t let destruction, blood, and war hold you back! You’re a brilliant scientist! I realize I need to just start everything over, rededicate myself. I need to do it right this time. No more distractions. I can’t spend another year like this one. So…it pains me to carry this letter, but…I wrote it to set my boundaries. So you know, there’s no postal service here yet. I know. Um, that’s why I’m hand-delivering it. Oh. Remember, no one should ever be sad. Choose not to be sad, Carlos. In fact, choose to be happy! Perhaps your letter is the first step to choosing happiness, even while it makes someone else sad. I understand. Listen, um, I should go. I’m headed to Night Vale one final time. I need to talk to Cecil about…well, about some changes. Thanks for everything, Kevin. You’ve been so kind to me in this difficult year. Goodbye, Carlos! Until next time, New Desert – Oh. It looks like Carlos left behind that letter he was supposed to hand deliver. I’d better not read it. Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno. Better not. Until next time, New Desert Bluffs. Until next time. [Sound of Kevin opening the letter] Oh. Oh no! This is so sad!No. I don’t like this. I am sad.

[petrovaaaae]

Winter White Wolf

CHAPTER 1

​To be in this new world, living a life outside of his brain-washed state. It was just going, great. After the events of the flagsmashers he was promoted to the team. Great. Did he want that? Well, what else would a semi-stable 106-year-old man do with his time? Nothing. Absolutely, nothing. Bucky spent his time walking around Brookyln, trying to piece together his memories. It was either that or spend time with Alpine, the cat he rescued. Why did he get a cat? Good question. Raynor had told him it was good for therapy, heck, he didn't mind the cat - all it did was sleep. He had somewhat gotten a hold of them nightmares. Now he was just a ghost. A Brooklyn ghost. Boo.

There had been a term that was used for him, some kid called him an emo. What the hell was an emo, you say? Well, Bucky did ask what it meant, not the kid though - he asked Stark. Stark only laughed and said it had something to do with the fact that Bucky looked as if he was either ready to murder someone, or that he was done with life completely. Those were apparently the only two emotions he showed. Bucky had emotions. Bucky simply did not like showing emotions. What else did people expects? For ninety years he was used as a fucking murder weapon.

But here was, on another darn mission with the team. Now that the flag smashers were gone, they were tasked to clean up the mess they made. Did Bucky agree with it? It depended. But what was consistence was Sams constant annoyance. Bucky often wondered how much easier would it be if he returned as one man, without him. Then he thought about the fact that Sam's sister, Sarah, would kill him and have her friend Carlos hide his body somewhere. Maybe if that comms system hadn't of went down he would have heard Natasha's warnings, and then they wouldn't be in this predicament they were in of being surrounded by people who wished to murder them. Maybe, just maybe Sam wouldn't have gotten his dumb ass shot if he had of went right, instead of left - like Bucky had said. But low and behold, whatever Bucky planned, no matter how much he planned ahead, it never worked out.

"Get out of here man." Sam said, groaning as he held a hand to his side, covering the obvious gunshot wound, trying to at least stem the bleeding.

"What? No. As much as I would love to leave you, Sarah would kill me." Bucky said, annoyed as he crouched down beside Sam.

"Its good, man. Honestly, its just a scratch." Sam claimed, which Bucky knew to be bullshit, and his thoughts were confirmed when Sam moved his hand, causing a fresh stream of blood to flow "Huh? Okay, maybe its not a scratch." Sam said, paling slightly.

Sighing, Bucky got to his feet, carefully glancing over the counter of the market, which was now, thankfully, clear of civilians. They had been unfortunate and unlucky to be caught in the crossfire that unsued. Thankfully, the members of this certain organisation had been bad shots, pretty shit shooters. Well, apart from the one that got Sam, that is.

​What he wanted was for these god damn comms to come online again, so Natasha could at least tell them what she could see from the quinjet. Would it not be easier for Nat to simply shoot these dicks? Yeah, it would have bee. But apparently they didn't do, easy. But they weren't supposed to be in Romania, in fact if word got to the states that the Avengers were here, they would be in a shit ton of trouble. Which was why they weren't suited and booted. But, some mad scientist was trying to create his own drug, one that would mutate a human and give him some sort of, power? Why would someone do that, you ask? Who the fuck knows. Bucky hated the future and everything that came with it.

"S-am, -uck, ......" Nats voice was broken as it came through on the comms.

"Not sounding very good, Nat." Bucky told her.

"Inco-.....extr-....coming." Nat said, and Bucky looked over at Sam.

"What the fuck did she jus- Behind you!" Sam groaned, and bucky turned to see a man coming his way.

They fought and Bucky took him down easily but the hairs on the back of his neck tingled as someone moved behind him. Turning, he was met with the bruised face of a woman, wearing the same suit that Nat usually wore on her missions, a belt clinching in her waist. Her chestnut hair was shoulder length, but it was a bit dishevelled - as if she had just been in a fight. He launched at her with one of his knives, which she blocked easily, taking out her gun which he quickly deflected, knocking it from her hand before she got the chance to use it. Quickly picking it up, he pointed the barrel at her head, causing the woman to tilt her head, an almost smirk pulling on her face. She didn't back down, instead she lifted her hand, an instant force hitting him in the chest and knocking him back. What the hell was that?

​When Bucky sat up, he was shocked to see his knife that he had previously tried to use on the woman in the knife of one of the men who was previously attacking them, causing him to collapse on top of Sam, causing him to spew out a string of curses. As another man approached the woman, she turned towards him, waiting for him to approach before she blocked each blow he made, hitting him repeatedly in each pressure point, before she made a snake-like movement around his body, bracing him in a choke hold position with her legs as she floored him. As another approached, instead of fighting, she lifted her hand, causing him to fall back - the same thing this woman had done on Bucky.

Standing up, he lifted the gun she had previously tried to use on him, pointing it at her. As she turned, she studied his face. Who the hell was this woman?

"Put your hands up." Bucky shouted towards her "Wait, don't put your hands up." They did that thing.

"Nat, I don't think they got your message." The woman spoke. Her voice had an Eastern European twinge to it, it wasn't strong but he could still hear it. As he slowly approached her, he patted her down for weapons with a single hand, whilst he kept the gun pointed at her.

"Wait. Alina, is that you?" Sams said, he knew this woman?

"Christ, Barnes, shes part of the team. Back down." Nat said over the coms. She sounded disappointed.

"Will one of you please get this dead person off me!" Sam pleaded, slumped in the corner. Bucky gave the woman a glare, telling her that he was in fact, keeping the gun as he touched it into his waistband.

"He dropped like a bag of bricks." Sam groaned as Bucky rolled the man off him, easily.

"You know, a little warning would have been nice, Romanoff." Bucky hissed into the comms

"I did warn you! I literally said there was incoming, that I was sending an extra pair of hands. Its not my fault this place has shitty signal." Natasha defended.

"Its these buildings, this place. Its old." The woman said, glancing around at the place before her gaze landed on them both "Samual, a pleasure as always."

"Irina, I would say the same but..." Sam moved his hand away from the gunshot wound and this woman, nodded her head slowly.

"Follow Irina, she knows where I am parked." Natasha's voice came through, and Bucky picked Sam up, throwing him over his shoulder.

Carrying a downed team member was never easy, even for a super soldier. But, it was faster than Sam trying to hobble his way back. Getting out of that place meant they were breaking cover, leaving themselves open, making leaving a little more difficult. Gun shots rang out as the rest of the men who were after them, began closing in. This woman turned, reaching behind Bucky to where he placed the gun in his waist band, offering him a smile as she done it, completely unconcerned, she then turned back, firing at those men. Apparently, he was not allowed to keep the gun.

As they walked, she worked, aiming her gun and firing. As soon as the ammunition ran out, she turned, tucking the gun back into Bucky's waistband. So, he was keeping the gun? Before turning, and just as she had done with him, she let her hands do the work, knocking the men back with a single movement of her hand. They seemed to have lost them, or did she just kill them? Because they were walking through a busy market street, the locals were giving them weird looks. They entered a house, passing a very confused family, headed down a flight of stairs into a basement and out a door through a backyard out to a densely forested area, and out of nowhere a ramp appeared.

The three of them entered the quinjet and Bucky set Sam in one of the seats as Natasha started take off procedures. They were in the air without delays and once they reached a cruising altitude, Natasha turned on the autopilot to check on them with a mediket. This woman, had already taken Sams shirt off, examining the wound as if she had done it many times before. She wore surgical gloves as she dug her fingers into the wound.

Meanwhile, Sams face was stuck on the one expression ; pain.

"Irina, do not touch that." Sam warned, causing her to look up.

"Im sorry, its in a really weird place. Its like, do I press against your liver or press against your intensines ; you know?" She told him, clearing her throat.

"Two fingers in and you can feel all that? I don't know if I should be amused or down right concerned." Sam half laughed, as the woman looked up at him with a smile.

"What would hurt the most?" Bucky asked from his seat

"Would you like me to try it on you? So then you can be the judge?" The woman asked, turning her head to look at him, raising her brow. Bucky rolled his eyes, looking away. He could hear Sam's laughter.

"Getting shot is bad, but getting repeatedly stabbed is worse." Natasha admitted, moving to hold Sam's hand

"I have been shot, and stabbed. Getting shot is better." The woman said as she finally pulled the bullet out, examining it before dropping it into Sam's free hand with a smile.

"Yeah. Tell that to the guy you stabbed in the throat back there." Bucky said from where he was sitting, looking at them.

"You stabbed someone in the throat?" Natasha asked, looking at the woman.

​"Barnes stole my gun. Wilson was about to get killed by that guy." The woman offered, giving a slight shrug

"I didn't know Romanoff had back up onboard." Bucky reminded them.

"She actually wasn't...onboard. What were you doing here, Irina?" Natasha asked, looking at the woman who simply shrugged.

"Enjoying the country." The woman said, earning her a look of disapproval from Natasha because it was obviously a lie.

"Well, Barnes, this is Irina Petrova. You would have met in passing at the battle for earth." Natasha mumbled, her gaze staying on Irina.

"Yeah, were I was literally trapped and nearly DROWNING. You are all lucky I finally figured out this whole...vibration thing." Irina said, looking at her hands. Vibration thing? So that's what that was?

"I had a lot going on that day, Irina. There was no way I was able to get you out of there myself. I was getting Bruce to help get you out. Plus, Fury helped in the end too." Natasha said defensively.

"Yeah, so did several wakandans and a fucking wizard. Like I said, lucky I figured out the vibration thing."

Bucky kind off remembered, not that he wasn't occupied himself, but he did remember. She had a done a run with the Nano-Gauntlet herself and gave it to Barton. The archer said she got trapped when the compound collapsed. He didn't think it was a hulk-sized task, but like he said, he was occupied himself during that time.

"Drowning or not, you did a good job, Petrova." Sam smiled.

"Don't boost her ego." Natasha said instantly

"Don't listen to her, boost my ego, Wilson." Irina joked, a smile pulling on her features.

"You know, shirtless and fingering are both kind of like....a second date thing. I think you owe me a drink, Petrova." Sam said smoothly, causing Irina to laugh, shaking her head.

"Yeah, I don't think so." Irina whispered, looking down.

For the rest of the flight, Irina and Sam talked quietly. Bucky couldn't help staring at her...he thought she at least looked somewhat familiar. Yes, he remembered her from that day against Thanos, but felt as if he knew her from before then.....but he couldn't place her anywhere in his memories. After waking from his brainwashing, he couldn't remember all the names of faces of those he met. It also didn't escape his notice how Irina didn't even so much as look in his direction.

Instead, Irina gave Sam painkillers which eventually knocked him out before she went and sat with Natasha in the cockpit. Bucky, being Bucky listened to their conversation as they spoke in hushed tones, something about a special assignment. Natasha asked her about some guy, to which Irina told her it was over, and she asked Natasha about you know who, to which Natasha grew frustrated. Was Bucky wanting to be nosy? Perhaps, Or maybe he wanted some insight to this woman who subdued him. Him, a supersoldier with a vibranium arm.

Irina made him uneasy, that was for sure.

Relief finally washed over them when they reached the compound, escaping her company by taking Sam to the medic bay to Banner and Doctor Cho to receive proper medical treatment. As he stood at the window, he watched as Steve hugged Irina affectionately in the courtyard below, with Natasha smiling beside them. It seemed the team knew this woman. Bucky didn't realise how tense he had been since this woman showed up, and when he watched her leaving he felt oddly...satisfied. Silently relieved that, perhaps, he wouldn't have to see her again. 

[hekaates]

open letter to ems (part iii) — @officialjimmybuffett

Hey bitch. Happy birthday.

It’s June 21st, 2023. Your birthday is not in a while, a long, long while. But I want to say I love you because I know no person who…update it’s October 23, I have no idea what I was going to say, but I thought the sentiment was noble, even if it was incomplete. Just know that on June 21st you did something that made me remind myself that I love you and that I’m glad you exist in my life. Maybe that could be enough.

I carry no poetry and no string of pretty words that could explain this concept further. Have fun with the least competent paragraph I’ve ever written.

It’s December 15th, if you don’t mind. I’d like to restart this letter with a new opener. Here we go, drumroll please:

🥁

🥁

🥁

Dear Emma,

We met on the beachside, did you know that?

At least, in my version, we did. That’s why every time I think of you I imagine the hot summer breeze and the waves crashing by my windows (one day, when we’re both old enough to afford to know each other, I’ll let you sleep in the bed where I met you and when you wake up we can get ice cream cups and make henna tattoos — just remember to put on sunscreen (you’re ginger you will probably need it).

When I was a child, my grandmother gave me my first notebook, in the cover there was this girl with pink hair surrendered by a neon city. The first story I ever wrote was about her. It had two sentences. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've never finished a story in my life. What was the first story you’ve ever written? Did you ever finish yours? It’s weird to think that, somehow, that notebook brought me closer to you.

I’ve been to New York two times, New Jersey once, just to eat a red velvet cupcake in Carlos Bakery…do you think our cars passed by each other?

Today (April 10th), everything that is supposed to go right goes slightly wrong, and I rather blame mercury’s positioning in the astros than my own incompetence. There was an eclipse in America and I missed it. I am exhausted just from my existence. Sometimes I think you are the cure for my sorrows, other times I am certain of it.

Update: it’s not mercury, it’s iron. I haven't eaten meat in 3 days. You sent me a message telling me to eat meats, I send you a message back saying I'm letting a guy with a rifle and motorcycle call me angel. Maybe there is no better way to describe our dynamic. Maybe if we met in another life, which I am pretty sure we did, I’d still be running around in chaos, and you will still be the savior from my demise.

If we were characters in a show, I know people would ship us together— two deck swabs in the crumbling ship, two vampires hiding in an old theatre, a soldier and a scientist turning blue to save a planet that isn’t their own— then they’d make YouTube compilations of our funny moments (“yah?” “…yeah”). Dare I say, we would be the best characters, Emmy nominations for both our actresses (I’ll let yours take the prize though).

I love you, Em. I send my love to you. And you send it back round to me.

Yeah. I won’t be watching the show. But that’s a pretty fire line, a pretty fire delivery too.

There’s no other version of this story, by the way. At least, not for me. There is no other version of me that is content with a life that doesn’t involve you, that doesn’t, in its own way, revolve around you and your phantomly existence, even if you are always destined to be in the other side of the world, even if the closest thing I’ve ever gotten to your hands were reaching them in my dreams. You are my ghost. My angel. My protector.

It is my biggest privilege (and my greatest sorrow) to be haunted by you.

written in purple glitter ink and with a love that overflows my heart and pours over every word ever written,

lui

p.s every statue in Vienna reminds me of you. there is no other explanation. you are what I think of when I think of art.