#the Apache Tracker

[yourfaveisanavatar]

The Apache Tracker from welcome to nightvale is an avatar of the stranger (he goes from being a white man who speaks English to a Native American who speaks entirely Russian, no one thinks this is weird)

the apache tracker from welcome to night vale is an avatar of the stranger!

[shxxmisafreak]

cecil ep 25: carlos is ALIVE !!!!

carlos: the apache tracker is fucking dead

cecil: this ain’t about him

[grimauxiliatrix624]

The Apeche Tracker was the original RCTA queen 🫶

[artisticmenace]

hello welcome to night vale fans please help me i think there is something wrong with me uhhh i think im on like 28 now i dont remember

[naciapiracia]

im curious what Europe looks like in the wtnv universe

[blueteehood]

The magic of Night Vale is that there will always be at least one running gag that will get you every. single. time. For me is the Apache Tracker bit

[cs-fox]

FOXHOUND | GHOST X FEM!READER

um hi 👋��

this has been rolling around in my subconscious for a while

enjoy x

reader's callsign is Fox (my oc's callsign - apologies)

______________________________________________________________

Freezing wind whipped through the open sides of the helicopter. You, and seven other mates who were all lined up to be candidates for the fifth TASKFORCE 141 operator, were all in five layers of clothing, trying to keep out the icy wind which bit at any square milimetre of exposed skin.

The forest below was blanketed in pale white snow, reflecting up at you as you gazed down over it. A clearing - or, more akin to a tiny break in the thickly wooded area - was visible from the sky.

Even if you could barely see him, you swore you could feel those chilly coffee-tinted irises staring up at you like a laser sight.

Ghost - the man people questioned about his mortality - was tasked with hunting down the eight soldiers packed into one Boeing AH-64E Apache. He was the best tracker the taskforce had - so the soldier who survived the longest would be admitted into the task-force.

The only way your mates could see any chance of survival was staying under the radar for as long as possible.

Which, luckily enough - was impossible for you.

From the second his calculating gaze fell on your form, he'd decided you were the one he'd push, you were the one he was hell-bent on forcing to submit or withdraw from Selection. The two months you'd endured under his command had been nicknamed the ninth circle of hell.

Your muscles burned every night before bed. Your legs felt two hundred pounds heavier than usual.

But you were going to show him that you weren't the runt of the litter.

All of that raced through your mind as you prepared to jump. Calm hands - a stark contrast to how you felt inside - clipped and secured a carabiner to your harness. Within seconds, you were fast-roping down onto the snow.

Your boots crunched as you landed, breaking through a thin layer of ice that had formed over the untouched snow.

Thirty seconds, your mind screamed, thirty seconds and then he's after you.

You were the first one detached from the helicopter, and thus the first one to get a head-start.

Silently, you thanked the man who'd recommended rubber-soled boots. His Scottish accent meant you weren't able to catch his name - did he seriously just say "Soap"? - but that advice had been a godsend, for your shoes barely made any noise against the white-blanketed ground.

You heard a frantic yelp from behind you - fuck - that sounded like Jasper - and your legs worked harder until you were sure you were completely isolated. Ghost had a wicked sense of humour. No doubt he'd track down all of the other soldiers with one hand tied behind his back, and then creep up on you in a way you didn't know was possible for a man of his size - skull-faced bastard.

Then -

CRUNCH.

'Fox.'

You didn't even have to look to know it was him.

In seconds, you were gone - sprinting away like a hare. Now you knew he had your scent, he wouldn't let it go, sometimes going to extreme measures to get you - which he would, by the way.

So why don't you have some fun?

He's gonna love this.

You had wrung a tiny woodland fox's neck after tracking one down, and after making sure deep boot-prints led to it's position, you slid your hunting knife from the underside of it's jaw to the soft, plush and fatty part of it's stomach. After coating your gloves in blood, you scrawled a scarlet message in the white snow, and vaulted up into the lower branches of a tree which had thicker than usual foliage.

Now, you wait.

Sure enough, just as the sun was starting to set, you saw a figure seemingly emerge from the shadows. The huge man moved so silently, as he approached the carcass laid down across a fallen log, with it's innards spilling out from it's chest.

You watched his head tilt, examining the message you'd left for him, before he went completely, eerily still.

Then, a muscle jumped in his neck, before a deep, rumbling growl crawled up from the depths of his throat, a sound which made your knees weak.

Ghost bent down, viciously sawed off the fox's tail with his own hunting blade, and tied it to his belt, before exiting in a way you could only describe as hot.

He was attractive when he was angry... God...

You gave yourself one last chance to proudly survey your handiwork, the maroon stain sinking into the snow.

You're hunting the wrong fox.

______________________________________________________________

PART 2 ???

this was super fun whattt

[littlebetesofeverything]

Welcome to Night Vale Ep 27

Well, that was a weekend. But I'm revved up for the home stretch before Thanksgiving break. So let's hope I can do it before I go insane.

Hello is a good place to start, you're right Cecil.

Awww, Carlos did start returning affection. "I'm not calling for personal reasons" is a great opener ngl.

This entire episode is not gonna be good for my heart, is it?

OHHHH First date!!! spill the tea, Cecil!!

aren't those crates from the episode about me? yep, they tick so that's definitely from that episode. Thoughts aren't crimes though.

See, other people use the word "ruminate". Take that my D&D group.

cecil, thank you for leaving us on a plot hook for another episode. I can't wait to find out what is inside those crates.

I'm sorry an entire for only one person, who is a millionare? And he is not gonna actually READ?? alright, get the pitchforks and torches, folks.

Why does a library need a helicopter? and who would maul a librarian? ohhhh, the librarian is doing the mauling, never mind.

Yes, date talk time! I want to know what a weekend lab coat looks like.

Italian is always a good first date spot. lol the applebee's actually has bees in Night Vale, ofc.

Awww Cecil, you are down so bad. But I would like to know how a portabella mushroom is bleeding??

Ah yes, the mini war still continues I guess. Good thing I already stomp everywhere. How do you walk around with your eyes closed all day?

Good, the Apache Tracker will be remembered in the best way possible for him.

What holiday is on Tuesday? how do you not know Cecil?

Yes, the news is boring stuff, I am only here for the tea after all.

Uhhh, I think you got scammed on the carrot cake, my dudes.

Night Vale certainly has recreational events. Love how Carlos is starting to fit in lol. He certainly is a skeptic when it comes to anything that lives in Night Vale.

Buddy, I also can't figure out if he felt you touch his cheek.

"when life seems dangerous and unmanageable it is. And you can't survive it forever." Damn another good quote.

Yes folks, photo and video editing affects how we appear and warps beauty. "full lips aren't as beautiful as a full laugh." two quotes back to back.

actually, I don't want to pull back my skin. I just had a whole year of anatomy and dissection, I do NOT want a repeat.

Yeah, this weather is pretty good. Not what I would choose, but I do like it.

Carlos works next to Rico's? Oof poor guy. that might explain a few things.

Ah yes, the awkward moment where -- I'm sorry you do what in Night Vale?

I love how Cecil just gets so tongue-tied and Carlos is trying to save the town with science.

Babe, Carlos, self-reliance only gets you so far.

WHATTTTT AHHHH THEY KISSSEDDDDD *o* YEAHHHHH

Awww, I do want to find love. Just maybe without that much violence.

AHHHHHH. The boys kissed!!!!! I love this episode so much. It just felt like such a diary entry and it was so sweet. Let this help me fall asleep to good dreams tonight. Now excuse me while I run around my home cheering for Carlos and Cecil.

[honey-andmilktea]

✎ Welcome to Night Vale: Glow Cloud

🤎𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Scientist!Bang Chan x GN!RadioShowHost!Reader | 🌙𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Fluff, Crack Fic, 1st Person | 🖊️𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,789 Words | ✏️𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Most of the dialogue is from the Night Vale podcast and transcriptions! I recommend checking out the podcast it’s so cool and funny! There's not a lot of Chan in this one but other groups and other group members are mentioned! [Lee Felix, Lee Minho, Choi San, Lee Minhyuk (Monsta X)] | ❌𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of dead animals, more oddities, slightly offensive humor (?)

🍁𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A mysterious cloud looms over Night Vale plus the change of the Boy Scouts hierarchy, community events, and a PTA bake sale!

“June, July, August. Every day, we hear their laughter. I think of the painting by Van Gogh, the man in the chair. Everything wrong, and nowhere to go. His hands over his eyes.” - Mary Oliver, ‘August’

The desert seems vast, even endless, and yet scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is snow. Welcome to Night Vale.

ೃ⁀➷ 🦇🕰️☀️[Monday, 8 am]

I get everything ready for the morning’s broadcast. I sit with my regular cup of coffee in hand as I move my mic close to me and start the morning’s announcements. “The Night Vale Tourism Boards ‘Visitable Night Vale’ campaign has kicked off with posters encouraging folks to take their family on a scenery filled jaunt through the trails of Radon Canyon. Their slogan: ‘The view is literally breathtaking.' Posters will be placed at police stations and frozen yogurt shops in nearby towns, along with promotional giveaways of plastic sheeting and rebreathers.”

I clear my throat as I continue on to the news of the morning. “And now, the news. Have any of our listeners seen the glowing cloud that has been moving in from the west? Well, Lee Felix, you know, the farmer? He saw it over the Western Ridge this morning, said he would have thought it was the setting sun if it wasn’t for the time of day. Apparently, the cloud glows in a variety of colors, perhaps changing from observer to observer, although all report a low whistling when it draws near. One death has already been attributed to the glow cloud.” I raise my brows at that last part feeling it was a little extreme but also made some sense in a crazy predetermined way. 

“But listen, it’s probably nothing.” I turn away from the mic and snort. It most possibly is something, but the listeners don’t need to start freaking out now. “If we had to shut down the town for every mysterious event that at least one death could be attributed to, we’d never have time to do anything, right? That’s what the Sheriff’s Secret Police are saying, and I agree, although I would not go as far as to endorse their suggestion to ‘run directly at the cloud, shrieking and waving your arms, just to see what it does.’” I shake my head but smile with a tiny sigh. I was right though, our community was full of oddities, if we shut down every time something happened, we would basically not exist. I roll my eyes as I read what comes after in my notes.

“The Apache Tracker, and I remind you that this is that white guy who wears the huge and cartoonishly inaccurate Indian headdress,  has announced that he has found some disturbing evidence concerning the recent incident at the Night Vale Post Office, which has been sealed by the City Council since the great screaming that was heard from it a few weeks ago. He said that using ancient Indian magics, he slipped through Council security into the Post Office and observed that all the letters and packages had been thrown about as in a whirlwind, that there was the heavy stench of scorched flesh, and that words written in blood on the wall said, ‘More to come…and soon.’” I scoff lightly as I shake my head and continue to talk. “Can you believe this guy said he used ‘Indian Magicks’? What an asshole.”

ೃ⁀➷ 🦇🕰️🌑 [Monday, 2 pm]

I purse my lips as I go to sit, having noticed something on my little trip down the hall. “Here’s something odd: There is a cat hovering in the bathroom at the radio station here. Seems perfectly happy and healthy,  but it’s floating about four feet off the ground next to the sink. Doesn’t seem to be able to move from its current hover spot.” My smile turns into a little pout at that fact. It must be so lonely being all stuck there. “If you pet her, she purrs, and she’ll rub on your body like a normal cat if you get close enough. Fortunately, because she’s right by the sink, it was pretty easy to leave some water and food where he could get it, and it’s nice to have a station pet.” I smile and coo to myself at the fact that we now have a little pet to call our own in the station. “Wish it weren’t trapped in a hovering prison in the bathroom, but listen, no pet is perfect. It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is.” I clear my throat and continue with our next segment for the afternoon. “And now, a message from our sponsors: I took a walk on the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me, in the night sky, above me, I saw. The bitter taste of unripe peaches and a smell I could not place, nor could I escape. I remembered other times that I could not escape. I remembered other smells. The moon slunk like a wounded animal. The world spun like it had lost control. Concentrate only on breathing and let go of ideas you had about nutrition and alarm clocks. I took a walk on the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me, in the night sky, above me, I saw.” I hum and nod as I read the paper, flipping it over to continue.

“This message was brought to you by Coca-Cola.”

ೃ⁀➷ 🦇🕰️🌑 [Monday, 4:30 pm]

“The City Council, in cooperation with government agents from a vague, yet menacing, agency, is asking all citizens to stop by the Night Vale Elementary School gymnasium tonight at 7 for a brief questionnaire about mysterious sights that definitely no one saw and strange thoughts that in no way occurred to anyone, because all of us are normal, and to be otherwise would make us outcasts from our own community.  Remember: If you see something, say nothing, and drink to forget.” I move my finger from the button, reading over the rest of my notes a small pensive look on my face before I continue. 

“The Boy Scouts of Night Vale have announced some slight changes to their hierarchy, which will now be the following: Cub Scout, Boy Scout, Blood Pact Scout, Weird Scout, Dreadnought Scout, Dark Scout, Fear Scout, and, finally, Eternal Scout.” I used my fingers to count off everything, a small smile spreading on my lips as I continued. “As always, sign-up is automatic and random, so please keep an eye out for the scarlet envelope that will let you know your son has been chosen for the process.”

ೃ⁀➷ 🦇🕰️☀️[Tuesday, 7 am]

I started my day with some interesting news. Well more like everyday news, normal in Night Vale but news is always interesting, isn’t it? I sat myself down with a bagel in my mouth. I took a bite and started the broadcast. “This is probably nothing, listeners, but Lee Felix, you know, the farmer? He reports that the Glow Cloud is directly over old town Night Vale, and appears to be raining small creatures upon the earth.” I nod along to what I read, typical for our lovely little town. Taking another bite of my bagel I continue. “Armadillos, lizards, a few crows. That kind of thing. Fortunately, the animals appear to be dead already, so the Night Vale Animal Control department has said that it should be a snap to clean those up.” I bring my mic with me as I move to make myself a coffee. I’m quite happy that I decided to set up a coffee maker in my little office. “They just have to be tossed on to the Eternal Animal Pyre in Mission Grove Park, so if that’s the worst the Glow Cloud has for us, I’d say go ahead and do your daily errands, just bring along a good, strong umbrella, capable of handling falling animals of up to, let’s say, 10 pounds.” I smiled as my coffee finished walking back to sit down passing by an umbrella I had perched against one of the walls of the office. I sit and take a sip of my coffee with a satisfied hum. “More on the Glow Cloud as it continues to crawl across our sky. And hey, here’s a tip: Take your kid out and use the cloud’s constantly mutating hue to teach them the names of colors! It’s fun, and teaches them the real life applications of learning.”

ೃ⁀➷ 🦇🕰️🌑[Tuesday, 1 pm]

I quickly run to my mic half throwing off my jacket as I get back from picking up lunch. There was a breaking news alert and I had to report on it right away. “Alert! The Sheriff’s Secret Police are searching for a fugitive named Lee Minho, who escaped custody last night following a 9 pm arrest. Mr. Lee is described as a black cat hybrid, about 5’8” in height, with yellow cat eyes, and about 145 pounds. He is suspected of insurance fraud.” I settled in my chair, catching my breath before continuing the rest of the alert. “Mr. Lee was pulled over for speeding last night, and the Secret Police became suspicious when he allegedly gave the officers a fake driver license for a 5’10” man named Lee Minhyuk. After discerning that Lee Minhyuk was actually a black cat hybrid from somewhere other than our little world, the Secret Police searched Mr. Lee’s vehicle.” As I talk I open up the container my lunch was in taking a bite of it since I couldn’t handle being hungry any longer. 

“Representatives from local Civil Rights organizations have protested that officers had no legal grounds to search the vehicle, but they ceded the point when reminded by Secret Police officials that our backwards court system will uphold any old authoritarian rule made up on the fly by unsupervised gun-carrying thugs of a shadow government.” Rolling my eyes a little at that but nodding as that is true continuing to enjoy my lunch as I wrap up the alert for the day. “The Secret Police say Mr. Lee escaped custody by scratching at one of the Secret Police officials. He was last seen jumping and hissing along the Red Mesa. Secret Police are asking for tips leading to the arrest of Lee Mimho. They remind you that, if seen, he should not be approached, as he is an uncontrolled cat hybrid. Contact the Sheriff’s Secret Police if you have any information. Ask for Officer Changbin. Helpful tipsters will earn one stamp on their Alert Citizen Card. Collect 5 stamps and you get Stop Sign Immunity for one year!” 

I sit back and decide to finish my lunch before continuing the broadcasting of the rest of the events of the day.

ೃ⁀➷ 🦇🕰️🌑[Tuesday, 1:30 pm]

I clean up my station humming happily to myself satisfied with the meal I just had. I sat in front of my mic before pulling out the rest of my papers. “And now, a look at the community calendar.” I clear my throat and start to read the next couple events for the week and next week. “Saturday, the public library will be unknowable. Citizens will forget the existence of the library from 6 am Saturday morning until 11pm that night. The library will be under a sort of…renovation. It is not important what kind of renovation.” I make a mental note of that which in honesty I might end up forgetting either way-. I shake my head and continue to read.

“Sunday is Dot Day. Remember: Red Dots on what you love. Blue Dots on what you don’t. Mixing those up can cause permanent consequences.” I shiver at the thought, knowing those consequences are real and to always remember the difference between Red and Blue dots on Dot Day.

“Monday, Choi San is offering bluegrass lessons in the back of Louie’s Music Shoppe. Of course, the Shoppe burned down years ago, and San skipped town immediately after with his insurance money, but he sent word that you should bring your instrument to the crumbled, ashy shell of where his shop once was, and pretend that he is there in the darkness, teaching you. The price is $50 per lesson, payable in advance.” I scrunch my eyebrows at this, shaking my head in disbelief but shrugging. Just another person of good old Night Vale.

“Tuesday afternoon, join the Night Vale PTA for a bake sale to support Citizens of a Blood Space War. Proceeds will go to support neutron bomb development and deployment to our outer solar system allies. Wednesday has been canceled due to a scheduling error. And on Thursday, there is a free concert.” I blink as I look over the paper and tilt my head. “That’s all it says here.” 

ೃ⁀➷ 🦇🕰️🌑[Tuesday, 2:00 pm]

“New call in from Lee Felix, you know, the farmer?” I’m leaning back on my chair absentmindedly throwing a ball up in the air. There is so much that can keep me entertained. “Seems the Glow Cloud has doubled in size, enveloping all of Night Vale in its weird light and humming song. Little League administration has announced that they will be going ahead with the game, although there will be an awning built over the field due to the increase in size of the animal corpses being dropped.” I pulled out a paper squinting at it before perking up. “I’ve had multiple reports that a lion, like the kind you would see on the sun-baked plains of Africa, or a pee stained enclosure at a local zoo, fell on top of the White Sand Ice Cream Shoppe. The Shoppe is offering a free dipped cone to anyone who can figure out how to get the thing off.” I hum as I try to figure out a way to fit in a visit to the Shoppe. Who knows I could win myself a free dipped cone.~

“The Sheriff’s Secret Police have apparently taken to shouting questions at the Glow Cloud, trying to ascertain what exactly it wants. So far the Glow Cloud has not answered. The Glow Cloud does not need to converse with us. It does not feel as we tiny humans feel.” It felt like I was in a trance as I kept speaking. My mouth is just moving and no thoughts in mind. “It has no need for thoughts or feelings or love. The Glow Cloud simply is. All hail the mighty Glow Cloud. All hail. And now, slaves of the Cloud, the weather.” 

ೃ⁀➷ 🦇🕰️🌑[Tuesday, 7 pm]

“Sorry, listeners. Not sure what happened in that earlier section of the broadcast. As in, I actually don’t remember what happened.” I blink a little rubbing my forehead as I try to remember. “Tried to play back the tapes but they all are blank and smell faintly of vanilla.” I take some of the tapes and give them another sniff before my eyebrows scrunch up again. They really do smell like vanilla. Kind of pleasant actually. “The Glow Cloud, meanwhile, has moved on. It is now just a glowing spot in the distance, humming easy to destinations unknown. We may never fully understand, or understand at all, what it was and why it dumped a lot of dead animals on our community. But, and I’m going to get a little personal here, that’s the essence of life, isn’t it?” I hum in thought to myself as I think over my words going off script now.

“Sometimes you go through things that seem huge at the time, like a mysterious Glowing Cloud devouring your entire community. While they are happening, they feel like the only thing that matters, and you can hardly imagine that there’s a world out there that might have anything else going on. And then the Glow Cloud moves on, and you move on, and the event is behind you. And you may find, as time passes, that you remember it less and less. Or absolutely not at all, in my case. And you are left with nothing but a powerful wonder at the fleeting nature of even the most important moment in life, and the faint but pretty smell of vanilla.” I smile to myself as I pull out a sticky note ready to end the broadcast for the night.

“Finally dear listeners, here is a list of things:

Emotions you don’t understand upon viewing a sunset.

Lost pets, found.

Lost pets, unfound.

A secret lost pet city on the moon. 

Trees that see.

Restaurants that hear.

A void that thinks.

A face, half-seen, just before falling asleep.

Trembling hands reaching for desperately needed items.

Sandwiches.

Silence when there should be noise.

Noise when there should be silence.

Nothing, when you want something.

Something, when you thought there was nothing.

Clear plastic binder sheets.

Scented dryer sheets.

Rain coming down in sheets.

Night.

Rest.

Sleep.

End.

Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.” I end the broadcast with a smile. I move to the couch in the room and decide to do a little gazing out into the night sky. See what else our little strange town can offer me.

✎ @honey-andmilktea - 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜. [2024-2025]

✎ Thank you for reading! Since you've made it this far please consider reblogging, commenting or getting a coffee at the Coffee Corner! [Ko-fi]

✎ Taglist: @armysantiny, @faywithlove, @moonprismo, @iridescentxstars, @monsterhigh-cb, @mo0nbeams

[walker-extended-universe]

Announcing Calian Appreciation Day!

From the moment he first rescued Abigail Walker, Calian has stolen our hearts. There's something to love about all of the WIndy cast of characters but I think Calian has a special place in most of our hearts. So, on October 11th, we're celebrating all things Calian!

I'll be reblogging old posts and making new ones about our Apache tracker. I'll also be putting up some polls and reblog games for easy participation. If anyone wishes to create something of their own, please use the tag #calian day so I can find your post and reblog it here. If you want to make sure I see your post, you're more than welcome to tag me or DM me.

Taglist below the cut (if you want to be added to the taglist, see this post)

@theladywyn, @jaredwalkertexasranger, @laf-outloud, @aborddelimpala, @mysterybeau, @sweet-sammy-kisses, @kickingitwithkirk, @rhl74, @peachparakeet, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @loveforwomenstuff, @low-soduimfreak, @ihavepointysticks, @waywardmaslow, @arte-mishuntress, @the-slythering-raven, @deeranger, @duo-kun, @inafieldofdaisies, @not-your-housekeeper98

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Does anyone actually think the character of Meghan Wallaby was transphobic writing or is it just a niche thing from the same kind of people that don't see the satire in the NRA bumpers or forget for the 'Apache' tracker was frequently called out as an appropriating racist so say the writers are racist. Every so often I remember when that was floating around and it feels like a fever dream.

[i-have-41-protons]

“and the Apache Tracker was described as an asshole, by me, just now.” Honestly, Cecil: chill

[bigmamag]

I have what I think is a new theory about what happened at the end of season 2 of Good Omens. I think Aziraphale doesn’t tell Crowley what came after Metatron told Aziraphale that he can work with Crowley again and restore him to full angelic status. I don't think we're getting the whole conversation, not because Aziraphale has been drugged or anything like that, but simply because Aziraphale is the eponymous unreliable narrator—he’s literally narrating the conversation to Crowley, so Crowley and the audience are only getting whatever he’s willing (or able) to impart.

Metatron presumably still thinks they’re both immune to holy water and hell fire, so he thinks he can’t kill them. I doubt he'd hesitate to kill Crowley, but Aziraphale is different, not because Metatron gives a shit about him, but because it’s a matter of pride and there will NOT be an institutional problem in heaven on his watch. Aziraphale says he doesn’t want to go back to heaven, so how does Metatron convince him to go be the supreme archangel so he can be heaven's PR puppet while also completely separating him from Crowley? He knows the power they wield together: able to perform a miracle of 25 Lazarii together where apart they can barely bring one person back from the dead (for evidence of this, see how they can't resurrect Wee Morag and also this ask where Neil addresses their individual miracle capabilities.)

I think Aziraphale doesn’t reveal to Crowley that he actually tells Metatron that Crowley would never agree to come to heaven and be an angel again, because he knows Crowley. But then Metatron has the ultimate trump card, and here it is, the ‘give me coffee or give me death’ moment: Aziraphale must convince Crowley to come to heaven or he must leave him behind, because if he tries to interact with a demon again, Metatron will erase Crowley from the book of life.

Imagine if this is the reason for Aziraphale’s sudden change, then everything makes so much more sense that follows. Aziraphale’s intense worry before he walks into the bookshop, but the brightness and joy he exudes while trying to convince Crowley to come, like he’s giving the sales pitch of a lifetime and notice he’s almost manic with it:

“It’ll be just like old times, only even nicer!”

“Work with me! We can be together!”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you.”

“I…I need you!”

“Then there’s nothing more to say.”

It’s breaking his heart, just the face he makes when Crowley says no nightingales, he knows exactly what that means. Crowley kisses him, and god imagine how much Aziraphale wants to stay with him, go off together, even forgets himself a little bit and clutches Crowley to him for a just a moment, but he can’t, Metatron is watching, notice that after he breaks the kiss, Aziraphale glances over to the window, because what if Metatron had seen that? He takes a bit finding the words, so he decides on what he knows is the worst thing he could say to make Crowley go away and not speak to him, because he’s in danger.

“I forgive you”

And he still looks to Crowley before he gets on the elevator, trying to memorize him before they’re forced to part forever. Metatron is right about one thing–everyone so predictably chooses the coffee, no one chooses death. I end with a quote from a wise man by the name of Cecil Palmer who once said about a white apache tracker, "what an asshole."

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Do you think some times Carlos resents Cecil just a little bit for growing up in Nightvale?

And I don't mean for the weirdness or for anything on the present. But because there's no prejudice in Nightvale. No lgbtq+fobia, no racism (apart the apache tracker and everyone hated him), no antisemitism, no ableim and the way Carlos speaks sometimes about threats from outisde (his recent monologues about how you can't dialogue with Doctor Lubelle's people but even before with Strex) he sounds like someone who had to deal with a lot of prejudice his whole life. He is a gay man of color after all (and likely autistic). Things weren't easy for him.

And there's Cecil who is also gay and jewish and gender non-conforming and likely neurodivergent, Cecil that on our wolrd would have to deal with the same violence Carlos dealt with. Cecil who never had to. Cecil who Carlos loves more than life itself. And Carlos knows that Cecil didn't had it easy either, that he is secretive and traumatized and talks about his mom doing pretty horrific abusive things as if it's quirky but at the same time it is so weird to think Carlos feels jealous sometimes? That some nights when they are together in bed just talking Cecil will talk about his first love and how he embarrased himself by sending the runic love letter to the house of the wrong boy because he made a silly mistake in the amount of blood for the required blood sacrifice and Carlos will think about how the first time he realized he liked boys he cried in his room terrifield of what it all meant while remembering about the boy on his school that was constantly beaten and had fag painted in his locker with an ink the school cleaners hadn't been abble to remove. Cecil will talk about akward teen dates holding hands and watching cowboy movies and Carlos will think about how the first time he holded hands with a boy in public he ended on the hospital. And he doesn't want to be mad. Things got better in his wolrd as well and it isn't Cecil's fault! It isn't Nightvale's fault. Au contrary the problem is in the rest of the wolrd. But for a small second in all this times he can't avoid feeling a small pang of jealousy and anger at Cecil for never having to deal with it followed by an imense wave of guilt abd self-hate he still wasn't abble to shake completly.

[hydralisk98]

LibreVastServitor computing stack designs 1/?

Just a quick reminder here, this is a customized computing stack manifestation game where I simply write what I desire and then let the wider universe manifest it for me whatever way that means, including personal efforts of mine. Boils down from customizing and adapting research material into a actionable series of items to manifest.

Ashur dream specifications

(mid-tower personal workstation computer)

2+ 2560x1440p monitors (one vertical, one or more horizontal)

Intel Core i5-4690 @ 3.5 GHz with its 4-cores (hoping forward to upgrade the RISC-V + OpenPOWER like processor for something decent with ~12-cores & much more open design) central processor unit

32GB of RAM

Some recent mid-range AMD GPU

64 GB Linux swap partition (mostly for virtual machines and RAMdisk partitions)

4TB+ SSD storage

Bluray burner

Floppy drive

Cassette / datasette drive

Themed GRUB bootloader

S6 init system

Arch-like package manager and software ecosystem

Customized alternative Linux kernel between Linux Libre & Zen kernel ( XanMod + Liquorix )

ZealOS, Parade, OpenBSD, OpenIndiana...

CLADO, DIS, Venera, Perseus, Maskoch, Synod, Monad, Valenz, Constans?

KDE Plasma with Liquid shell as desktop environment, complete with custom ricing, dot files & all the KDE desktop environment utilities;

Bash + Fish, Tmux, Astro-Neo-Vim with LSP, Emacs, LibreOffice Suite, Calligra, Bottles, Wine, WineTricks, QGIS, Firefox, LibreWolf, Dolphin, Konsole, Inkscape, Karbon, OpenStreetMap, GPlates, GProjector, Itch, Steam, GOG Galaxy, Lutris, Cyberpunk 2077, Ken Silverman's, FreeBASIC, Common Lisp, Godot + Qodot, VLC, MPV, .ogg / .ogv media player, musical tracker, 'Landchad.net', Brasero, K3B, FloppyFormatter, LibreCAD, AutoCAD, Blender, Kate, Qt, Nim, MUSL, C compiler, assembly monitor, HxD debugger, Rust, Swift, Kotlin, F#, C#, GNU make, NASM, Sweet Home 3D, some digital audio workstation software, Audacious, FFMPEG, Wayland, Morevna OpenToonz, some HTTP(S) web server suite, MongoDB, Hexo, Netlify CMS, RSS feed reader + generator, Pomodoro, Calendar, timely Tracker, Notion-like service, Tape, Gollum, some level editors, FreeCiv, The Sims 2, SimCity 4, Quake 1, Doom 1 & Doom 2, Markdown / Argdown, Konqueror, some WYSISYG rich media editor, some Raycaster engine, Daggerfall Unity, Portal 2, Source (1 & 2) Engine modding, some VirtualTableTop software, some remote desktop control software like VNC, OpenSSH, some distributed share storage software, Trenchbroom, StableDiffusionXL, ChatGPT open source alternative, DAO, Krita, GIMP, G'MIC & its plugins, PaintDotNet, CataclysmDDA, CataclysmBDA, Evennia, Python 3, Firefox for KDE (Developer Edition), Perl, PHP, MariaDB, lighttpd, Apache, Nginx, Themix Oomox GTK+ theme editor, Falkon, ...

Custom shell scripts, interactive REPL programming languages, some GUI programs, command aliases and dot file configurations;

?

Venera (computation "deque" project)

Original components:

RISC-V + OpenPOWER = LibreVast (tribble word-based open hardware architecture designed for daily use & tinkering developer purposes)

Tropix + OGAS = Nucleus (optimized distributed processing micro-kernel, like 'Inferno' & 'Plan9')

RedSeaFS + Parade = CLADOgram (direct-access rich media agentive filesystem & file server suite)

KDE + POSIX-compilant CDE = VUE (lightweight desktop environment with profound customization options)

CommonLisp w/ CLOS + Nim = Pan-Lisp (both low-level and high-level REPL programming language)

Existing components:

Fish, Tmux, Vim, Konsole, Flatpak, Git

KDE Plasma w/ Liquid shell alternative

Konqueror, LibreWolf

GIMP w/ G'MIC & Krita w/ G'MIC

Hexo (flat blog self-hosting web server), MariaDB, "Landchad.net" stuff

QEMU, Wine, Wine-tricks, Proton, Bottles, Lutris

Trenchbroom, Godot w/ Qodot

Kate, KDevelop, Okteta, Mousepad, Notepadqq

[...]

[shiitake-transcendent]

WTNV Analysis 2, Glow Cloud

All hail

Overarching plot

A glowing cloud that rains dead animals consumes a small desert community. In any other series this is a horror story. Here in Night Vale it’s met with declarations of “do your worst!” or suggestions to use the cloud’s various flashing hues to tech your child colors. A local ice cream parlor offers a free scoop to anyone who can get the dead lion off of their roof.

It’s a very Night Vale story. An eldritch horror met with relatively no real response. Cecil talks about it almost like another broadcaster might talk about normal weather.

The Glow Cloud does leave a lot of questions for the listener, though. Why does it rain dead animals? Where do the dead animals come from? Or does it just generate them itself? Spontaneously bringing into existence the corpse of something never alive to begin with, dropping them onto a (somewhat) unassuming town where they will then be dragged off to a funeral pyre in Mission Grove Park.

And what of the mind control? In the segment before the weather Cecil seems to be taken over by something else (not the last time this will happen), which seems to speak for (or possibly be) the Cloud. It says, “ALL HAIL THE GLOW CLOUD”, though. Why would the Glow Cloud hail itself? What does the Glow Cloud bring in its wake, that so worships it, but which leaves behind no memories and the faint smell of vanilla?

I’m afraid I can’t say. I could talk about the possible symbolism of dead animals, ritualistic sacrifice and the like. There’s been traditions of divining the future or appeasing the gods since there’s been religion. I could talk about vanilla, derived from the seeds of a particularly difficult to cultivate species of orchid. One of the world’s most expensive crops because of the skilled labor it takes to produce. I could talk about prisms and multicolored light and the process that forms rainbows.

Here’s the thing though, this episode is the first appearance of a character that will stay with the podcast for a long time. As such, this episode does very little to elucidate the nature of the Glow Cloud. We are introduced, yes, made familiar with its various hallmarks and motifs, but the Glow Cloud is just the first of many incomprehensible horrors we will see face the town of Night Vale. At this moment, so it remains, incomprehensible.

 Segments

“The desert seems vast, even endless, and yet scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is snow.” This introduction ties into the prevalent theme of this episode. That there is more beyond that which is currently occurring. That sometimes a glowing cloud plagues your town with dead animals, but you keep moving and living in spite of it.

Radon Canyon is being shilled by the Tourism Board as a good tourist destination in this episode, with the slogan “the view is literally breathtaking”. There’s also suggestions of plastic sheets and rebreathers, which tells us that the tourism board is attempting to advertise a likely very dangerous location. This has some real-world equivalents (recall how bodies can’t be recovered from Everest, and are often used as landmarks), but the thing that catches my attention, and perhaps yours, is the name. Radon is a pure atomic element, a rare radioactive noble gas. It is colorless, odorless, and tasteless. Is the canyon called such because it is literally filled with radon gas? The posters seem to suggest so. Then, another question, radon gas is the result of the decay of other radioactive materials, so who’s disposing of that sort of thing in Radon Canyon?

“The Apache Tracker” (I feel the need to put this name in air quotes, I’m sure you understand why) appears again in this episode, though Cecil largely ignores what he’s actually up to in favor of condemning him for saying he “used ancient Indian magics”. Anyway, cultural appropriation, we’re all familiar. Last episode began a subplot of sorts, where a great shrieking was heard from the post office and then it was shut down. This episode “the Apache Tracker” breaks into said post office to find it in disarray, with the words “More to come… and soon” written on the wall in blood. The post office was sealed by City Council, a sort of sinister entity that controls Night Vale (as much as any singular sinister entity can) which begets questions about what precisely left this sort of message. What precisely is Night Vale’s City Council trying to hide? Or, perhaps, is it related to the City Council themselves attempting to limit the spread of information, as all good totalitarian leaders do?

There’s a hovering cat in the station bathroom, who will in later episodes come to be named Khoshekh. Cecil describes Khoshekh’s present state as a prison, trapped floating by the sink in the men’s bathroom. Khoshekh is representative of a kind of empathy, the cat is completely unable to care for itself  and yet of it Cecil states: “[…] listen, no pet is perfect. It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is.”

The sponsorship segments are perhaps one of my favorite recurring elements. They read as… bizarre short fiction. The kind you encounter for the first time in middle school and that manage to haunt you in some form for the rest of your days. This sponsorship segment is from Coca-Cola and I’m simply going to post here in full and tell you some of the things that stand out to me.

“And now, a message from our sponsors:

 I took a walk on the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me, in the night sky, above me, I saw. Bitter taste of unripe peaches and a smell I could not place, nor could I escape. I remembered other times that I could not escape. I remembered other smells. The moon slunk like a wounded animal. The world spun like it had lost control. Concentrate only on breathing and let go of ideas you had about nutrition and alarm clocks. I took a walk on the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me, in the night sky, above me, I saw.  

 This message brought to you by Coca-Cola.”

The cool sand dunes and brittle grass immediately give us our setting, still in the desert. We can assume the same desert as Night Vale, but that might be incorrect. That might not matter at all. This story appears to be about attempting to flee from something, not a physical monster, but something in the past. They speak of seemingly innocuous things like unripe peaches, nutrition, and alarm clocks. Nutrition may (somehow) tie back into the fact this is a Coca-Cola advert, but unripe peaches and alarm clocks tie into the passage of time. The moon slinking like a wounded animal and the world spinning out of control also tie into this concept of time. Time moves, but does the narrator feel that they are moving with it? Or are they simply hung, here, amid the cool sand dunes, looking up at something that will never be described to us. Something that leaves us, the readers, and the narrator unfulfilled.

There’s something so very Night Vale about authorities pursuing a massive five-headed dragon on allegations of insurance fraud. Like yeah this is an actual mythological creature, but also that’s just a Night Vale citizen. The being a dragon thing is likely only noted by Cecil because of his attempt to pose as human citizen Frank Chen.

There’s another thing Cecil mentions here. That Hiram McDaniels, the five headed dragon in question, is “from somewhere other than our little world.” This seems to imply not only the existence of sort of Narnia-esque other worlds, but the fact that our narrator seems casually aware of them. And the phrase “our little world”, does Cecil mean the Earth itself (relatively small in the grand scheme of the universe) or Night Vale itself (the desert seems vast, even endless).

Another thing mentioned in this particular segment is an Alert Citizen Card, where “helpful tipsters” can earn stamps towards stop sign immunity. I imagine this works like those old Baskin Robbins type buy however many ice creams and get a free one when the card’s full, but stop sign immunity. This is unrelated to the analysis but imagining a place where the traffic laws are worse is very cathartic for me.

The next segment is the community calendar, but I won’t be talking about every day, just the ones I have something to say for. On Saturday the public library “becomes unknowable” from 6am to 11pm for a kind of “renovation” that is unspecified. We again see this theme around the flow of information being limited (the post office shuts down and now something is occurring with the library).

Sunday has what’s called Dot Day, which is described as: “Red dots on what you love, blue dots on what you don’t. Mixing those up can cause permanent consequences.” I hate to bring up color symbolism on Tumblr because I’m sure by now we are all familiar with the color symbolism for red. Blood, passion, love, ect. Blue tends to represent safety or tranquility (except when it doesn’t. Color symbolism is the most fuck all bullshit kind of symbolism because the meanings vary heavily by author. Go read an analysis of Hawthorne’s Young Goodman Brown and understand why I dislike this.) Anyway, Dot Day is never cohesively explained, just the warning, which seems to imply some unknown entity is rounding up anything you stick a blue dot on.

This segment contains the first mention of the Blood Space War, in the context of a PTA bake sale for the Blood Space War, implying it to be a community issue of some kind. We’ll get back to the Blood Space War later, keep it in mind.

The final segment for this episode is “A list of things.”

“Emotions you don’t understand upon viewing a sunset.” Endings, farewells, departure.

“Lost pets, found. Lost pets, unfound. A secret lost pet city on the moon.” A story about loss and gain.

“Trees that see. Restaurants that hear. A void that thinks.” Expectations subverted.

“A face, half seen, just before falling asleep.” Love, perhaps.

“Trembling hands reaching for desperately needed items.”  Loss, perhaps.

“Silence when there should be noise. Noise where there should be silence.”  Expectation, desire, something along those lines.

“Nothing, when you want something.” Another tie back to loss.

“Something, when you thought there was nothing.” Perhaps its about gain. Perhaps it ties back to the half-seen face.

“Clear plastic binder sheets. Scented dryer sheets. Rain coming down in sheets.” Small joys of the here and now.

“Night. Rest. Sleep. End.” A goodbye, for now.