#id do everything and anything for Cecil

[casinocarpediem]

This meme is funny but like

Words cannot describe how much I want to **** cecil in the *** and then **** his ***** until he **** and **** *** ******* ** ***** ******

#🤯 random #cecil dennis #cecil revenge for jolly #cecil #baby boy #his puppy eyes #cecil dennis x reader #revenge for jolly #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #id do everything and anything for Cecil

[bulkhummus]

i fucking love lubelles goal of being to explain everything and ruin the joy and wonder of what makes up the damn show. feels like a backhanded acknowledgment of old nv criticism (and honestly criscsim in sci-fi and fiction these days) where people used to say “okay but whats the point, whats the plot, why does the weird stuff happen with no consequence, i dont like that its not linear, how come this happens, theres no continuity wah” Baby it was never about the plot its never been about a plot its been about the magic and joy of fucking sitting there and listening to another world for 30 minutes from a man whose just has got a lot on his plate and has two braincells. Its commentary its jazz its free form fucking word poetry that sometimes stabs you in the gut. If thats not your cup of tea then thats completely and utterly fine but that doesnt automatically define it as bad. i know i joke a lot about them having no continuity but i dont care! Id listen to anything wtnv makes bc theyre playing in the space and breathing life into new stories and changing things because they want to and each episode feels like a weird thinkpiece on whatever’s going on in our world. Not everything needs an explanation or a grander purpose sometimes its just there for the joy of writing sometimes a story can be built from talking about everything but the thing that its talking about just how cecil palmer is defined by the people around him and we are never given a description of the guy. giving explanation destroys the beauty and wonder and dont u fucking get why i fucking LOVE LUBELLE and what this arc is doing and commenting on because above all else wtnv has been commentary even in the places its stumbled and failed dont u freaking see.. question why you’re asking what the point of something is question why you care so much about numbers and things lining up and working out perfectly. people are ugly and emotional and small towns are weird and stuff gets rehashed there over and over and over again dont you see the layers? Dont you see the fucking romance in a man who praises science above all else refusing to explain something to his husband to keep the magic alive? No No? In your quest to find the answer did you forget about the joy of the question?

[multiplicity-positivity]

hi i'm kinda freaking out and idk what to do

so i've been a singlet ally my whole life right?

except for the past weeks (maybe months? idk) whenever i look in the mirror it does not feel like me. i just know it's not me, whoever i am. the person in the mirror is not what i look like.

but i....am still me? if that makes sense? my memories, feelings abt people, and thoughts in general are still very much like me.

TW FOR NEXT MINI PARAGRAPH: mentions of dpdr

side note: i am trans-genderfluid but this does not feel like my dysphoria does. i also have dpdr, but idk if that's it.

i'm just rly rly confused and panicking and would appreciate anything rly.

Hi! So we’re not a doctor or clinician by any means, but this absolutely sounds to us like depersonalization, which is a key symptom of DPDR. Our system made an infographic with our experiences with DPDR a while back, and we’ll link it here so you can take a look:

Struggling to recognize yourself, feeling like your reflection doesn’t really show who you are, being jarred or disturbed by seeing yourself in photos or the mirror… to us, all of this sounds like depersonalization.

So if you already know that you have DPDR, chances are, you’re probably going through a depersonalization episode when you have these feelings. Hopefully with time and through grounding and reorienting yourself these feelings can pass!

If you have a therapist, doctor, or mental healthcare provider, it may be well worth it to bring this up to them. They’re certainly more qualified to give better advice than we are, and they could likely help you more than we can!

We also experience DPDR, which is why we feel more or less confident about what you’re experiencing - because we experience something like this too, even when we’re 100% sure about who’s fronting!

Again, we’re not a clinician, so take our words with a grain of salt! We’re just a system who also experiences DPDR… and to us, it sounds like you’re experiencing some long-lasting depersonalization.

We hope things turn around for you soon! Or that at least you’re able to learn how to make the most of your situation. Good luck with everything!

🌸 Margo, 🖋 Cecil, and 🐢 Kip

#depersonalization #dpdr #depersonalization/derealization disorder

[godza]

justin i need to hear your ag takes now

oh my god yes. i was just about to make a post. ill say a few opinions because they are all scattered.

problem one: from the founding of ag to 2014, everything was perfect. it all went downhill when the historical dolls were rebranded to beforever. all historical accuracy went out the window to cater to an even younger audience. all the playsets turned to plastic, there used to be wooden accessories! metal even! now its all cheap plastic, hunks going for hundreds of dollars. quality of items went down, as well as quality of stories. all the realism in the historical settings were wiped to have colorful smiles and happy colors. yes, some happiness is nice, but im still mad about kits redesign, wheres her flour sack dress! that was not made out of a flour sack!

problem two: girls of the year. they are running out of ideas! a second gymnast, really? im tired of the endless roulette of white girls! none of these girls stand out! they all have the same hobbies, and appeal to the same declining demographic of rich white girls. understandable, since the prices have ballooned so much people who arent rich arent buying them these days. each goty seems no different from the last. the current goty is both a gymnast and a horse girl. that is a desperate bid to tackle demographics. theyve done those a million times, the gymnast was mckenna back in 2012? and horses twice with nikki and sage. a horse does sell well, i always wanted a horse, but they really need to do something else. i honestly havent been paying much attention to recent gotys, but corinne and kavi were fantastic! the asian american representartion was great! but now the year after them, we are back to a white gymnast horse girl. im not privy to their sales, but i wish there were more diverse characters. but since the audience is mostly white rich moms who got mad at one of the characters having lesbian aunts, im not surprised they keep making them. i just want there to be more diversity!

id write more but my phone lags really really badly when using tumblr for too long. i have so many thoughts i didnt even get to truly me dolls but i dont have much to say about them honestly theyre fine

i was very obsessed with ag as a child, id spend hours looking through the catalogues at the pretty merchandise. i also followed their other endeavors like the self help and craft books. i was a fan in elementary school, 2010-2016 so that influences my opinions bc idgaf abt anything outside of that time frame

my fave dolls: kit (i have her! shes in just a coat since all my clothes are put away), julie, addy, rebecca (her collections the prettiest), nellie (shes the prettiest. also gwen but theyre identical with pretty hair), cecile and marie-grace, kanani, chrissa, mia, and LANIE. im so mad i was too young for lanie shes always been my favorite. faves are also heavily influenced by their books, lanies books are really comforting to me. i wanted to be her so bad as a kid! okay im sleepy i worked myself up lol. thank you for asking i love talking about it

#ask

[dykeyote]

cecil kanagawa as a sympathetic antagonist

ok u kno what . i should not suggest a cecil arc and not explain how i would write it if i were making a cecil arc . so i will do that now . in GREAT detail

kanagawa productions is being bought out by northstar which is mentioned in the show . i think itd be VERY interesting if min managed to gaslight girlboss gmurder her way to the top of that and take control of the company, putting her in an even more powerful position than before

cecil's the star of course, he's always been the moneymaker of the family, and min takes Advantage of that - with the rest of his family out of commission, cecil has to work three times as hard to make up for it, and min makes Sure he knows this

that leaves him frazzled and stressed and tired all the time, which makes him far more easily manipulated, whereas prior to murderous mask he was fairly oblivious to how codependent their relationship was but would still find ways around it like swapping with cass, he pretty much just does whatever she says

min is perfectly poised to expand and gain power over all of mars and even more . theres only one problem . rex glass and juno steel are still Out there and when shes gotten this far she's not going to let a possible problem go

so she track them down . she finds out nureyev's full name and she Eventually gets a Vague idea of where juno is

but min doesnt do the dirty work . shes not going to hunt someone down Herself, thats not her style . so Cecil does

he definitely doesnt know the full plan id think ,,,, one of his prime character traits throughout murderous mask Is his obliviousness (not realizing juno doesnt wanna go on his show, not realizing junos accusing him of murder for a VERY long time, not even knowing His Dad Died) and i think that would carry through to an arc with him, min tells him that she wants him to get them on a show again for the ratings or smt and he dorsnt quedtion it

so its basically this thing of cecil trying to EXTRAHHHHVAGANTLY kill our protags on live tv . its a very fun antag that makes the most of the fact that hes a Glamorous Gameshow Host and he poses a genuine threat and does some fucked up things, maybe he kidnaps one of junos friends and/or a member of the carte blanche as ransom. hes a PROPER antag

but at points that mask sort of drops ,, we see moments where cecil is genuinely scared, where that complete disregard for his own life is portrayed more darkly, and it becomes increasingly clear everything hes doing is for mins sake and not his own

like maybe at the beginning juno and everyone thinks cecil was lying about juno being his best friend and he actually Does hold a grudge ?? playing into junos paranoia maybe ?? but we see that he was Not lying and juno really Is his best friend in his eyes and this is a product of manipulation

i think he could also be a kinda cool parallel for nureyev ?? smt about identity issues . nureyev has identity problems because nobody knows anything about him and cecil has identity issues because everyone does and his entire life is a movie and his entire personality is a character . smt like that . cecil tells nureyev that he pities him for how unknown he is for how nobody even knows his NAME thats pathetic everyone knows who the great cecil kanagawa is and the underlying vibe is that hes jealous of reyevs anonymity 

and DEFINITELY do more with his relationship with juno . WAY more . does juno have any warm feelings for him or is it genuinely all frustration and annoyance !!! for either of these, does cecil realize this !!!! expand on the fact that cecil sees him as his best friend . expand on their history together . does cecil have a thing for juno and why is the answer yes? idk where it would go but theres a lot of interesting drama there

and REALLY build up on his feelings on his sister. does he miss her? does he feel betrayed that she killed their dad? do they still talk on comms? do they not and how do they feel about that? i definitely think they should bring cass back too u cant do a cecil arc without a cass arc but im focusin on this mostly

speaking of parallels . consider: cecil is a parallel for both juno and benten at once. this is a post for another day this is already too long but its a concept i have and i think they should do something with

i dont Quite know how it would end ,,,, theres a lot of diff ways it could go . im gonna go with the redemption arc ending and the tragic ending bc theyr the biggest ones that come to mind . both of them have min die because its deserved

REDEMPTION ARC . as we learn more about cecil throughout juno learns more too, realizing that this isnt what cecil Wants its what he Has To Have . cass kills min and its DESERVED and cecil is shattered he’s beyond betrayed i dont think he knows that cass was set up yet here ,,,, so hes incredibly incredibly angry and sad and hurt and he feels like cass is ruining his life and this is his Low point. but juno brings cecil to the carte blanche and cecil slowly heals, he unlearns all the fucked up shit being a kanagawa taught him and his relationship with cass slowly begins to heal . i think itd be cute if they made him and junos relationship more friendly too (: do smt with the fact that junos Very clearly cecils favorite and make him learn how to be someones friend normally . maybe have a jealousy thing with him and reyev bc cecils into juno . MAKE HIM FRIENDS WITH RITA i feel strongly about this they should be tech besties who goss about juno . just fun redemptiony stuff (:

or .... alternatively

TRAGIC MORALLY GREY ENDING . theres a lot of ways this could go but essentially cecil dies before he GETS that redemption . he goes out killing min because he found out that shes the one who killed his dad and all the comfort she’d provided him in his grief was fake . his last move is to kill min and he never Quite makes amends with juno and we have an arc where juno has to think about the fact that cecil tried to kill him hundreds of times over but he genuinely did really care about him and juno will never be able to see him again. how does he feel about that

idrk which one i prefer i think the redemption has more potential but the morally grey one is more realistic i think . but either way

in conclusion: BRING THE KANAGAWAS BACK . NOW

#rambling about him again . constant state of being #cecil kanagawa #cassandra kanagawa #juno steel #peter nureyev #min kanagawa #the penumbra podcast #tpp #tpp meta

[cockbiteproductions]

primed to scream PRIMES! PRIMES! PRIMES!!

f i just typed the answer to most of these questions and chrome crashed so christ i have to fucking retype all these but much condensed because i am lazy.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

chocolate bars. but only milk. my mom buys exclusively Very Dark Chocolate though so i usually just stare at those and Wish.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

well bubblegum or cotton candy flavored stuff neither they both taste nauseating. if we’re talking about the actual stuff then bubblegum because i can pop it. this actually reminded me i have gum in the pantry from the beginning of the semester i havent even opened yet so now my roommates have you to thank for popping noises the next hr or so

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

soda bottles because i dont like to drink soda quickly and so i want to close it and not let the carbon dioxide escape. soda cans a close second because it’s satisfying to open the tab.

7. earbuds or headphones?

wired earbuds because headphones are too big and clunky and you cant easily lay on your side with headphones on. but if my next pair of earbuds break within a month i might consider Switching because ive had 3 break on me in the past month and half and im at my wits end with earbuds.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

i dont eat much for breakfast cause i want to sleep in until the last possible moment and i get stomachaches when i eat a lot in the morning but ill eat a piece of bread and yogurt maybe.

13. lanyard or key ring?

key ring but that’s just because i havent used a lanyard before. i think i would like a lanyard. im constantly looking for my keys in bags.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

this pair of black sandals that i have tan lines on my feet from how much ive worn them

19. sleeping position?

ill sleep however... i like sleeping on my left side. on my stomach with my head to the right. on my back with my arms crossover my chest to keep warm. at the end of the bed with my head where my feet should be. i dont move at all when i sleep so freshman year when i had a lofted bed i think my roommate was a bit concerned in the beginning when i refused a bedrail because she thought i might fall. i never fell which was nice.

23. strange habits?

oh man idk i probably have a lot of those but nothing i can think about right now when im being put on the spot.

in elementary school i used to refuse to step on the yellow tiles at school.

29. best way to bond with you?

talk to me about the stuff i love!!!! and watch the stuff i love with me!!!! i am always down to [whatever the rabb.it replacement is these days] stuff with people and just generally both yell at each other and be passionate about stuff. currently what im passionate about is the stuff im screaming over at @winstonbillions​ so talk to me about that stuff!! please. i am always 3 seconds from screaming about ANY of that stuff.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

idk about outfits to kick ass and take names but i have outfits where i get my ass kicked and name taken aka what i wear to exams. which is my tower of pimps shirt which ive deemed lucky. is it lucky in any way? no, but i’m hoping if i wear it enough to exams it might.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

duffel bag. suitcases are so large and unwieldily. that reminds me i have a suitcase of winter clothes in my trunk i need to take out.

41. last person you texted?

as in actual texts on my phone? that would be my dad. asking him if i should drop my class im failing. 

as for the last person i instant messaged, that would be one of my mutuals through my musical theater sideblog im currently yelling at about [musical theater related interest]. im not kidding guys talk to me about the stuff i post about on @winstonbillions​ PLEASE

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

2 months ago i would have said hoodie but im kinda becoming a cardigan kind of person now. theyre just Soft and and Long and Casual and i love them. hoodies are too hard to take off.

47. favorite type of cheese?

mild cheddar, american, and mozzarella. i actually only Recently started cataloging cheeses in my brain to their actual names so for my entire life i was like i just like cheese even though there are certain ones i hate like swiss and blue cheese.

53. what is the current state of your hands?

a bit cold and a bit tired from typing all the answers to all these asks tbh. but other than that good. i just cut my nails because they were atrociously long. 

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“worm” or “fuck” or “no!” according to my roommate

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

oh my ogdokh oym ogdos sd fdospohm to mo edf ucmign fugod mfyo uacant just ask me this im going to absolutely die

in absolutely no order, all from completely from memory, and favorite for a variety of different reasons

“fuck you, math man. if you’re such a genius why can’t you count to loyalty” - mafee in 4x11 lamster billions

“captain, he think, and feels that much more powerful” - luminousbeings in you don’t have to (say yes) the star trek fic

“more than you know, i understand wanting to walk away from the jedi”“i know.” - anakin skywalker and ahsoka tano in 5x12 the wrong jedi star wars the clone wars

“i won’t leave you, not this time.” “then you will die” - ahsoka tano and darth vader in 2x12 twilight of the apprentice star wars rebels

“there is nothing so pure as a man on a mission. when faced with the fire, never quivers or runs. there is nothing so noble as sticking together, for lonely is the life lead when sticking to its guns." - narrator in bloodsong of love by joe iconis

“now i’ve got myself a name and i’m ready to risk it with a battle cry disguised as a sing-along” - never heard nothing by joe iconis

“i’m frickin done with being the loser, the wuss, the underdog. being the misfit, the old school analog. being the oddball, the weakling freak. the failure, the sucker, the please-don’t-speak. oh i can’t hardly wait for the moment when i’m not the loser the geek or whatever, ever again” - jeremy heere in be more chill by joe iconis

“i’m tired of being the person that everyone thinks that i am” - various in be more chill by joe iconis

“q is for quantitative, baby!” - winston in 4x12 extreme sandbox billions

“the cheering is just as important as the song” - lisa and ms. werring in the black suits by joe iconis

“first, best destiny” - spock in star trek ii wrath of khan

“be proud of your place in the cosmos. it is small, and yet it is. how unlikely. how fantastic, and stupid. and excellent.” - cecil in welcome to night vale old oak doors part b

“are we living a life that is safe from harm? of course not. we never are. the questions is are we living a life that is worth the harm?” - cecil in welcome to night vale parade day

“as I turned and my eyes beheld you, i displayed emotion. i beg forgiveness.” - spock somewhere in star trek tos

“the sky collapsed without a sound. these broken pieces hit the ground.  the rain fell down around me and i drowned, but i will save you.” - part of me from dear evan hansen

“this is, after all, the story of how i died” - epsilon in the rvb13 trailer

“and while the law has many punishments for the atrocities we inflict on others, there are no punishments for the terrors we inflict on ourselves.” - the director in the s6 finale of red vs blue

that was in no way an exhaustive list but all i could think of at the moment

67. good luck charms?

not really any tbh. i try to wear my tower of pimps shirt whenever i take an exam but that’s about it.

71. least favorite pattern?

what does this even fucking mean?????? i will say the observer design pattern in programming because i don’t understand it well despite having used it twice now.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

oh god idk why are all these questions getting harder. nothing i can think of at the moment.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

i say school id tentatively, but neither of them looks great. my school id photo was a selfie.

83. writing or drawing?

writing. i wish to GOD i could draw and i probably could if i put in the amount of time i need to to learn how to draw but im a lazy bastard. but i’m not that great at writing either as i’ve found out. everything is way too short and out of character and too venty and i am weird about letting people i know read what i write (sorry @ all the people who keep asking me to let them read my writing.  it’s not that great you’re not missing out at all and i hate the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known) and i abandon ideas literal minutes after getting them.

89. who would you put before everyone else?

what the fuck kind of question is this?????? i GUESS the answer should be me but uh i am not even putting myself before myself as i am procrastinating on a shitload of homework with this. i guess my “close” friends. they’re pretty chill. but generally ill do anything for anyone all you have to do is ask.

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

4, my own, my home landline, my dad’s cell, and my dad’s work.

#not rt #teresa answers stuff #long post #jesus christ sorry for the infodump #Anonymous

[ace-alex-art]

Thomas is a prick

I'm terrible with titles. Anyway this took way too long because Parker and I get distracted easily. It's a rollercoaster.

Also theres some really strong language from Thomas in the first half that is derogatory towards women. Please be careful when reading.

-------

Michael keeps his body small as he lays curled on the floor. His shattered rib cage is burning, and every breath like inhaling shards of glass. His eyes are squeezed shut as he tries to wait out the pain. “P-please… Father…”

A harsh kick to his abdomen leaves the boy gasping. “Stand up.” He demands with another swift kick to Michael’s stomach. “This is all your fault! You pathetic little bitch! So stand up and fight!” The booming voice shakes the room.

Michael knows he can’t fight back. He’s learned the hard way that fighting back and defending himself always leads to more pain, but his head is spinning. His Father’s voice is too loud, and he just wants it all to stop. So slowly he gets back on his unsteady feet.

A strong punch to Michael’s face sends him sprawling onto the floor again, sufficiently erasing all the work it took for him to stand in the first place. Thomas stomps his foot onto Michael’s thigh and tears a hoarse cry from the boy. “Are you fucking deaf? I said stand back up!”

The boy whimpers and wipes his bleeding nose with his arm before forcing himself up again. He was always forced to not defend himself. Always hurt more when he did so, but if his Father truly wants him to fight back then why not? He's going to be beat anyway, so he might as well try to defend himself.

An arm reaches for his collar, and he ducks before maneuvering behind him. That wasn't what Thomas wanted apparently as he lunges at the broken boy and slams him into the wall. “You worthless piece of shit! I said fight back!” He slams Michael back into the wall again before punching the boy in the stomach sufficiently doubling the kid over. “Go on, hit me back!” The overwhelming stench of whiskey on his breath.

Michael doesn't know what else to do, so he plays the roll his Father wants. Hoping it will end soon if he plays along, Michael weakly punches Thomas's chest.

“Good girl.” He drunkenly praises before grabbing his arm and flinging him into the other wall.

I'm not a girl! Michael's thoughts scream. He knows he's going to lose this rigged fight, but he doesn't care at the moment. Michael moves to rush one way but quickly switches to the other side, and he plows into Thomas's side, knocking him into the wall.

That was not the right answer as his large hand clamps around Michael's throat and pins him to the wall. Holding Michael up by his throat, the drunkard leans close to his face. “I could fucking kill you right now, you know that?” He growls. The boy held off the ground; his toes barely dragging against the floor. Thomas pulls Michael forward before slamming him back into the wall again with intense force. “You ungrateful little bitch! You deserve this, girly. Go on, princess. Say it!” His grip on Michael's throat just loose enough for the boy to get a few words out.

“I...I de...serve it…” Michael weakly chokes out. Spots already beginning to dance in his blurry vision. “I de...serve it…”

“Fucking whore. We do so much for you and this is how you repay us?” He spits, clearly too inebriated to remember that he told Michael to fight back.

“...n-no… Sir… I-" The hand around Michael's throat squeezes hard as it cuts off his oxygen, making him slightly kick his legs as panicked eyes pleaded with his Father.

“I'm going to break your jaw if you keep fucking talking! Do you understand?” A minute nod as Michael fights to stay awake when his vision is being surrounded by darkness. “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my sight!” He booms as he throws Michael onto the ground. “Anyone fucking says anything, tell them your clumsy ass fell, do you understand me!”

Hes wheezing and trembling as he tries to regain control of his limbs. Grabbing his tattered backpack and racing out of the house before his Father could change his mind. His entire body screamed in protest, but he wanted to get as far away as he could. Adrenaline coursing through the boy allowed him to run until he got to the Sheriff's Secret Police Auction House before finally needing to stop. He slumped against the building when he finally began to feel all the pain in his body. Freezing when he looked back at where he had ran from and seeing bloody footprints.

Michael looked down to see a small puddle around his left foot. Cautiously using the wall for support, he lifted his leg to inspect his foot. The streetlight above him showed off the semi deep cuts on the bottom of his foot, and something shone in the light. Gingerly, Michael touched it. Piece of broken glass. He didn't have time to grab shoes when given the chance to flee, and he had ran through broken glass without realizing. The boy's hand shakes, but he manages to pull out the shard, cutting his foot more as it was removed.

Everything hurt, but he couldn't just stop here. He has to get farther away. His foggy mind told him to get to the dog park. Nobody goes to the dog park, so he would be able to rest outside the fence. It feels like another hour had passed in the time it took the boy to limp from the auction house to the dog park. As soon as he felt hidden enough, Michael slumped to the ground crying.

At some point the boy ran out of energy to keep crying. His entire body was aflame, and his throat hurt too much to continue to sob. His Father was always careful not to injure him where others could easily see, but he knew a black eye was forming already. There would be a prominent hand print around his throat by sunrise. How would he get anyone to believe he fell and got that?

Michael digs through his mainly empty bag when finds his phone. Carlos gave it to him since his old one was stolen. He said it was a gift. A “welcome to the family” gift. Michael smiles slightly. That was the day they made snow and decided they would prank Cecil and nearly give him a heart attack.

He only had a few numbers: the station, the lab, Mika's cell, Ainsel's phone, Cecil's, and Carlos's. He couldn't call Cecil. He would freak out. Mika would start a fight with his Father, and Ainsel would likely cry at the state he is in. Michael squeezes his eyes shut as he swallows hard. Carlos is going to be so mad for waking him up, but he didn't know what else to do.

Ring. Ring.

“P-please… please answer…”

Ring. Ring.

“I know you’ll be mad… it’s too early… but please pick up…”

Ring. Rin-

Carlos jerks upright as his phone goes off. Who would be calling at this time of night? Rubbing his face with a groan, he feels around the nightstand for his glasses. He gets up carefully as to not wake Cecil, who, as soon as Carlos got up, turned over and spread across the mattress.

Crossing the room, Carlos picks his phone up off the dresser, not bothering to check caller ID.

“Mm...Hello?” He asks with a yawn.

“Papa?” Michael shakily whispers. He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. Yeah, they gave him keys to their home, but what if they didn’t really want him there right now? Who wants a kid showing up at their door at 2am?

Carlos was suddenly wide awake as his blood ran cold. “Michael?” He asks, stepping out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Carlos wasn’t sure what worried him more; the fact that Michael was calling at two in the morning or the sound of the child’s voice. “Do I need to come get you?”

I woke him up. He’s gonna be mad at me. “m-m sorry… didn’t… I-I didn’t wanna wake you…” His voice hoarse from the lack of oxygen he endured and laced with fear. “P-please? I-I dunno if I can walk anymore… m at the dog park…”

Carlos takes a breath. “Don’t apologize. Hey, deep breaths. You’re going to hyperventilate. I’m on my way and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes okay?” He makes his way to the living room to look for his shoes. “What happened?”

Michael closes his eyes and tries to listen to Carlos, focusing on breathing around all the pain he feels. “I…I upset Father… and I fell...” It’s not a complete lie. He did fall, multiple times, actually, but he knew the scientist wouldn’t completely believe that answer. It was what his Father told him to say.

Maybe he could lie or hold back details over the phone, but Carlos would know otherwise when he sees the boy. A black eye from falling is somewhat believable, but the handprint around his throat? The huge bruise that will be prominent on his thigh? The fresh bruises on his stomach and already bashed in ribs? There’s no way the scientist would believe that. He isn’t an idiot after all. But for now he has fifteen minutes to come up with a better cover story, or at least a way to explain what happened without worrying him.

Carlos could feel his heart ache. “When did this happen? Were you followed?” He asks, pulling his shoes on and stopping at the table next to the door to grab his keys. He steps out and locks the door before starting down the walk. “Thank you for calling me Michael.” He stops and waves at the Sheriff's Secret Policeman hiding in the bush under the living room window. “How bad are you hurt?” He makes one last stop at the truck and takes out the first aid kit.

Michael keeps his eyes closed as he listens to the sounds of Night Vale in the early morning. “Hour ago? No… I dunno… maybe an hour and a half since I left? So maybe less than two hours ago?” He tries to think. He doesn’t have a watch that works. The one he has from before they moved had a dead battery. “I don’t think so… I didn’t know I was leaving footprints until I got to the auction house. I didn’t feel the glass in my foot… but he was really drunk and wanted me gone, so I don’t think he followed me…” Michael coughs a little before whimpering at the pain. “ll survive… not much worse than usual.” he admits. “But it was a bad fall… I, um, I got caught on the door knob, so I, uh, I might have a black eye… y'know m clumsy with my ankle and stuff…” he knew the lie was horrible, but he had to be careful with what he said in public in case someone was listening. He didn’t want to get in trouble after all.

Carlos tucks the plastic box under his arm and starts down the sidewalk. "Okay. Keep talking so I know you haven't passed out." With every word from Michael's mouth, Carlos's stomach twisted in more knots. Maybe he should take Michael's mind off the pain. But how?

He tries to stretch his back slightly and ends up whimpering. “Wouldn't be the first time… nobody really comes out to the dog park in the early morning…” Michael gingerly brings his hand to touch where the bruises on his neck are already beginning to form. There's no way he can hide that. “m sorry for waking you up…” his voice soft and remorseful.

"Its okay. I rather you call me than stay out all night. You take first priority always."

Michael feels himself being watched and tenses. However when realizing it's just a hooded figure, he relaxes. Hes spent numerous nights out here, and they haven't hurt him yet. “It's not all night… and I shouldn't…” he mumbles. “m sorry”

"Hey. You are always more important. Always. You can call me anytime." Carlos reminds him, rounding the corner. "No matter what."

Michael carefully shakes his head despite knowing Carlos cant see him. He doesn't have the energy to disagree with the scientist. “I-I didn't mean to fall�� I tried… m sorry…”

"I know." Carlos says softly. "I know you did." He looks down the way a little and sees the park. "I'm almost there."

Eyes closed as he replays what happened. He didn't know what his Father wanted from him, but clearly he gave the wrong answers. Wind blows through him as he sits curled into himself on the ground. “m sorry…”

"It was not your fault Michael. I promise you that." He's closer to the park now and begins looking for Michael. "I'm here now."

He shakes his head and sniffles. “It's always my fault.”

Michael hears Carlos before he sees his hero. Whimpering as he forces himself to stand and stumble in the direction of the noise, the world beneath him swaying.

Carlos walks a little further before stopping and looking around. "I see you. I'm coming."

He hangs up the call and breaks into a sprint towards Michael's limping form. He comes to a halt, dropping the plastic box and gently hugging Michael close. "I'm so sorry.."

His abused body gives out causing him to slump into Carlos and cry out in pain. Weakly hugging the scientist and using him to stay standing. “m-m sorry…” he brokenly hiccups. “m s-sorry…” Michael buries his face into Carlos's chest to hide his forming black eye and bruising throat.

"How about we get you home so I can get you cleaned up?" Carlos says softly. He takes a slight step back but isn't really able to see in the dim light. At home he'd have light.

“P-please…” A choked noise come from the boy. “It hurts…” Michael rests completely against Carlos  as he cant find the energy to continue standing.

"I'm going to pick up now okay?" Carlos says softly. "Is that okay?"

Michael whimpers at all the pain, but he nods. He trusts Carlos to take care of him. “m sorry…”

"I got you." Carlos murmurs. "I got you." Carlos leans down and carefully picks Michael up. "Let's go home."

Heartbreaking noises come from the boy as he gets picked up. “Everything hurts…” He whines while hiding his bruising neck from Carlos. Tense and scared but slowly relaxing knowing he's safe with the scientist.

"I know. I'm sorry." Carlos says softly as he starts the walk back home. "I'll get you patched up and some clean clothes and then something warm to eat. Okay?"

Michael nods a little. He has no idea how to hide how bad the damage is once Carlos gets home. The black eye? Handprint bruising around his throat? Those aren't as easy as his stomach and ribs. So Michael remains quiet for the walk home. How would he explain it was his fault this time? Really and truly. He fought back, and he was punished.

Carlos is quiet most of the walk home. He doesn't know what to say. What even was there to say? The walk back home seemed longer than the walk to the park but that could just be Carlos' nerves. "Almost home."

“Thank you...m sorry…” Michael softly whispers as he lays his head against Carlos. The scientist is going to see his bruises anyway, so what's the point in being even more uncomfortable?

Carlos doesn't answer at first. Then he says "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

“Why?” Michael quietly asks. “You haven't done anything wrong… thank you for letting me stay over… and coming to get me…”

Carlos stops walking for a moment and lays his cheek on top of Michael's head. "Because I can't help you."

“Oh…” He quietly says. “But you do help… you're helping now… and you help other times…” Michael explains softly. “You've saved me with the car and CPR and nightmares… you are good, and you help me. Thank you…”

"I only wish I could do more…." Carlos whispers, rounding the corner onto the driveway. "Can you stand for just a minute?"

Michael chews on his bottom lip and nods minutely. “Yessir…” he hoarsely whispers.

"I just have to unlock the door alright?" Carlos digs in his pocket for his house key. He unlocks it as softly as he could, keeping in mind that Cecil was still asleep. "Alright. C'mere. Let's get you cleaned up okay?"

As soon as Carlos let's him, Michael stumbles into the scientist. Clinging to his hero from fear and worry of falling again. “m sorry… m-m sorry…” he whimpers. He's gonna see my throat. He's gonna be sick. I'm gonna make him sick. He's gonna regret me.

Wrapping one arm around Michael, Carlos pushed into the dark living room. He does a quick once over of the room due to habit and was startled to find the kitchen light on. It hadn’t been on when he left. Slowly and carefully, Carlos moved Michael toward the light, poking his head in and jolting in surprise to find Cecil at the table with a mug of coffee between his hands. Cecil had obviously not been awake long at all; as his hair stuck up at odd angles and his eyes were kind of dull. He looked up as Carlos helped Michael sit down.

If Cecil had been standing, the mug between his hands would have shattered. He looks over the fresh bruises and the hand print on Michael’s throat. He was instantly on his feet. “What the hell happened?”

Michael immediately tenses at Cecil's reaction. How the hell does he explain this one? His bullies don't attack at 2am. Hell, he isn't even allowed out of the house most days until at least 8am. But the abused boy is scared and doesn't know what else to do except what he's been forced by his Father to do for years. He says what he's told to say.

“I-I fell… m s-sorry…” he answers, looking at the floor and wishing he was strong enough to tell the truth. It wasn't a lie. He did fall, but it was far from the whole truth.

Carlos crouches down to inspect the damage now that he had enough light. His stomach twisted as he looks over the exposed part of Michael's arms before his eyes traveled up to Michael's face. The black eye was already darkening. He places two fingers on Michael's chin and carefully tilts it up. His eyes land on the handprint, and he felt his blood run cold. "Did he do this to you?"

Carlos already knew the answer and didn't know why he asked, but he couldn't help it.

Michael squeezes his eyes closed and chews on his split lip despite the pain. How does he explain this one? He can't just say yes. His Father would kill him if he did, and while he's been ready to die for awhile now, dying by his Father's hands is truly terrifying.

His throat tightens as he tries to speak, but he manages to get a few hoarse words out. “Was my fault… didn't know the right answer… m sorry…” He whispers.

"You have no reason to apologize. None of this is your fault." Carlos answers. He looks up at Cecil. Cecil had gotten up and set the first aid kit on the table. Carlos mouths a 'thank you' before carefully tilting Michael's face, checking for bleeding or broken skin.

The boy sniffles and shakes his head as best he can while Carlos was holding it. "Didn't know the right answer… didnt wanna fight back… didnt know the right answer… m s-sorry I woke you both…"

Cecil waves his hand a little. "I needed to get up anyway."

Carlos takes his hand from Michael's face. "I don't see any bleeding. That's good at least." He sits back on his heels. "He wanted you to fight back?"

A small nod before he stops and shakes his head instead. "I… he said to… got mad when I didn't…" he pauses and looks away from the couple. "Got mad when I did… pushed him, and he grabbed m-me…" he swallows hard. "Couldn't touch the floor… then threw me down and yelled t leave…" he sniffles again. "I didn't know the right answer…"

Carlos clenches his jaw and doesn't answer. It takes all of his self control not to go down there and put his fist through Thomas's face. "Alright." He says. "You're safe now. He can't get you here. Do you want some water?"

He gives a weak nod. "P-please…" Michael chews on his split lip again. "m sorry…"

"I got it." Cecil says softly, standing and crossing over to the sink. He pulls a glass down and fills it half way before crossing the room again and pressing the glass into Michael's hands. "Drink."

It's a good thing Cecil only filled the cup half way since  Michael's trembling would've spilled the water. He carefully sips from it. The coolness easing his strained throat while stinging his cut lip. "Thank you… m s-sorry…" He pauses as he drinks more of the water. "s my fault… I deserve it…" Michael softly repeats his Father's words.

"I promise you that you don't." Carlos stands to make a compress. "The opposite of deserve. Trust me."

"No one deserves that Michael." Cecil passes a hand through Michael's hair. "Especially not you."

Michael tenses when Cecil brushes his fingers through his hair, but he tries to relax. Knowing that they don't mean him harm is helpful, but most interactions with hands in his hair lead to pain and being pulled around. He stiffly shakes his head. "I-I do… m ungrateful… disrespectful… worthless… pathetic…" his trembling worsens, and his words hold layers of emotions. "I deserve it… it's my fault…"

Cecil pulls his hand away when Michael tenses. “Sorry.” He says softly. He sits back on his heels again to not overcrowd Michael.

Carlos returns to the table two minutes later with an ice pack from the freezer and a luke warm wash rag. He kneels back down and looks up at Michael. “Do you want me to treat your neck or arms first?”

"S-sorry, Cecil…" he whispers when the radio host pulls back from him. Michael knows there's no getting out of this. Carlos and Cecil will fix him as best they can even though he doesnt deserve it.

He looks down at the floor in front of him. Just past his bare feet and just before Carlos's knees. Staring at the small blood drops on the ground, he answers. "Foot? P-please… I- there was a broken bottle… i didn't pay attention… i pulled the glass out at the auction house…"

Carlos sits all the way down on the floor and carefully pulls Michael’s foot onto his lap. He rolls the pant leg up and inspects the cut. “How big was the glass that got stuck here? Do you know?” He asks as he picked up an alcohol swab and starts to clean the wound.

Michael quietly hisses as his foot ignites when Carlos starts to clean with the alcohol swab. "Um…" he pauses, trying to think. "I dunno for sure… it was from the bottom of the bottle and curved… maybe two inches? I-I was shaking when I pulled it out and it sliced it a bit more… m sorry…" the boy anxiously explains.

“The cut could have been a lot deeper so it’s good you pulled it out before it got worse or infected.” He looks up when Michael hisses. “Sorry. I know it hurts.” He finishes the cleaning before  leaning closer to get a better look at the cut. “I don’t think it need stitches but I’m going to wrap it to be sure okay?”

Nodding, Michael tries to keep his leg still. His sprained ankle, which seems to always be sprained, is still bandaged, and now he will have the other foot wrapped up. "m mostly bandages…" he tries to joke and lighten the mood. "Thank you"

“You’re like a mummy from one of those movies Carlos likes so much.” Cecil says with a soft giggle and a yawn. He holds his arms outright and goans.

Carlos starts to  wrap the foot and shakes his head with a chuckle. “I’d rather not have my son be a dead body please and thank you.” He secures the wrap and lowers the foot. “What next?”

The boy smiles at Cecil. He definitely needs to go back to sleep soon. "m pretty much already a dead body." Michael points out before shrugging. "Arms?"

“You aren’t dead if you’re still breathing.” Carlos counterpoints, picking up the cold compress. “This might ache for a moment.” He warns before laying it over the area with the most fresh bruises “But it’ll help them heal faster.” He was glad they managed to get a real smile out of him that time. He hears a dull thud and jumps a little, turning quickly. Cecil had fallen back asleep and as a result, fallen over under the table. “Well…..so much for needing to get up.” Carlos says with a raised eyebrow.

"ve stopped breathing before and m dead inside" Michael muses before bracing for the compress, so it won't be as bad. Flinching back when Cecil falls and whimpering at his torso.He's quiet for a moment. "didnt mean t wake both of you… m sorry…"

“I’m glad you did. You are more important. Always will be.” Carlos changed out the cold compress for the warm one, laying the cold one on Michael’s other arm. “I’ll take care of him in a bit. He has a hard head. He’ll be fine.”

A minute head shake, but no verbal argument. "m sorry…" he whispers before glancing at Carlos and looking away. "P-please don't be mad…" he begs despite not saying why Carlos would be angry or upset.

“I have no reason to be.” Carlos picks up the compress and inspects the arm. Some of the swelling has gone down, so that's good. He switches them out again before standing and going back to the freezer for a fresh ice pack.

"Thank- thank you, Carlos…" Michael looks at his arms before remembering that he has to show his stomach. Possibly more broken or cracked ribs, and his stomach would have terrible bruises from the kicks.

Carlos sits back down. "Is something else on your mind?" He asks, picking up the warm compress again. "I think that'll do for now…."

He chews on his lip again. "My stomach hurts… I… its gonna have new bruises too…" he whispers the last part.

"Can I see?" Carlos asks softly.

Hes gonna be disgusted…

Michael nods a little before carefully lifting the hem of his tattered hoodie up to show his bottom ribs and stomach.

Bruises litter the boy's pale skin. Some already deep purples while others were angry red on top of healing yellow and green skin. An indentation of Thomas's wedding ring left just below his diaphragm.

"m sorry…" He shakily whispers. His eyes closed to keep from seeing the disgust on Carlos's face.

Carlos' heart broke at the state of Michael's torso. It was a good thing Cecil fell back asleep because if he saw this, almost nothing would stop him from trying to fight Thomas. "I'm so sorry. Michael…. "

With his eyes still closed Michael shakes his head. "s-s okay… I… I deserved it… m sorry…"

Carlos shakes his head. "I think I still have some salve to help with the swelling. It'll make you feel better and you'll be able to breathe easier.  Would you like to try it?"

Michael hadn't even noticed the individual pain from his throat as his entire body was ignited and throbbing. He doesn't want to use more of Carlos's supplies, but everything hurts and he just wants the pain to stop. So he nods carefully. "P-please?"

Carlos nods with a smile. "I'll be right back." He stands and goes back to the fridge, pulling out a small mason jar. He then sets it on the table. "We have to give it a few minutes to soften." He says as he kneels back down. "It doesn't really spread when its solid."

"m sorry…" he sniffles and pulls the hoodie back down. Only disgusting things visible now are his bruising eye and battered throat.

"You haven't done anything wrong." Carlos reassures him again. "I promise. You aren't in trouble. Not at all."

Michael shakes his head. Of course he's in trouble. He caused trouble at home and now he's causing trouble here. "m s-sorry… didn't know the- the right answer… m s-sorry…"

"There's no right answer in this situation." Carlos says softly. "But you're safe now and that's what matters."

"Al-always a wrong answer…" he fearfully whispers. His thin frame still trembling. "m s-sorry… shouldn't've- shouldn't've woken you up…"

"I'm glad you did. You are my first priority. Always. I will never regret helping you." Carlos picks up the jar and unscrews the lid. "Want me to do your neck first?"

His breathing picks up slightly. Knowing the salve needs to go on his neck and will help, knowing that Carlos wouldn't hurt him, but scared of the possibility. Regardless of his anxiety, the boy nods a little and closes his eyes.

"Would you rather do it yourself? I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Carlos offers him the jar.

A quick head shake. Hes scared of anything touching his throat, but he trusts Carlos. He already knows something that could kill him, so if he really wants the boy to die, then it will happen. But outsiders can trust outsiders. He trusts Carlos. His hero scientist.

"Alright. I'll be careful." Carlos takes some of the salve onto his index and middle fingers before starting to apply it. "My mama made this when I sprain my ankle jumping off the roof."

Michael tenses as Carlos begins to put the salve onto his throat. He trusts the scientist, but he's still just a scared kid. The boy holds his breath as best he can when Carlos touches the bruised, sensitive skin.

Carlos tilts Michael's chin up a little so he could see better. He is careful to not let his fingers linger on the bruises as he worked. "I'm sorry."

Small, soft whimpers come from Michael as Carlos carefully works on his throat. Eyes squeezed shut as the process seems to take forever. "Th-thank you." He brokenly whispers.

"There. All done." Carlos sits back. "That should soothe the pain. I can do your arms if you like. Or your torso?"

Michael opens his eyes when Carlos pulls back, a small sliver of a smile on his face. I shouldn't waste more of his supplies. He'll hate you. You worthless piece of- "p-please?" He softly asks.

"Which one first?" Carlos tilts his head.

"Um…" he looks down. He can relax more after his stomach is taken care of, right? "Stomach? If-if its okay…"

"Alright. I need to see again. Do you want a clean hoodie? Or a clean set of clothes for when we're done? I'd offer you the banana shirt but Cecil claimed it tonight." He gestures over to his sleeping husband.

A soft smile at the mention of the banana shirt, and Michael looks back at the mess that is a sleeping Cecil. "Please?" He gently asks as he lifts up the bottom of his hoodie. "I dont wanna risk Cecil seeing…"

"Alright. He's pretty dead to the world so that isn't an issue. I'll get you clothes when we finish here alright?" Carlos forces himself to not flinch when be sees Michael's torso again. 'Almost done okay?" He says as he starts to apply the salve in a slow gentle manner.

Michael nods. "Thank you…" He looks down at his battered torso. "m sorry… thank you for being nice…" He can't help but tense when Carlos touches Thomas's ring imprint even though he knows Carlos wont hurt him.

"Sorry." Carlos says softly. He looks up at Michael. "It's my pleasure. My biggest concern is your safety. Always."

"You're probably tired of having t deal with this stuff… m sorry I always bother ya with injuries and stuff…"

"Michael I will never get tired of helping you." Carlos picks the jar up again, scooping some more of the salve out. "Never."

"Y-yeah but it can't be fun… and people get tired of repetitive… boring… useless things…" He bites his lip again, reopening the cut that had just stopped bleeding.

"You are far from boring Michael. Trust me."  He looks up. "Be careful. You will hurt yourself more. We don't want that."

"Multiple people would want that." Michael sighs, but stops chewing his lip. "And m hardly entertaining."

"I happen to think you're great."

The boy furrows his eyebrows. "Why? How did you come to that conclusion?"

"I got to know you. How else would I get to that conclusion?" Carlos quirked an eyebrow and pulled the hoodie down, finished with his work.

Michael relaxes once Carlos pulls down his hoodie. "You're biased and therefore it throws out your data." He tries to reason.

"And how exactly am I biased? Because I'm an outlier?" He couldn't help the slight smile.

"Yessir." He weakly smiles. "Therefore you should not be included."

"What about Cecil? Or Lisa? Or Trevor?"

"Lisa is not old enough to vote on any matter. Cecil is Cecil. Look at him." Michael nods at the passed out mess of a radio host. "A complete gay disaster and totally makes bad decisions. And Trevor, well, he probably doesn't even care. He's gotten use to you bringing home a beaten kid and just rolls with it probably. See something, say nothing."

"Cecil may be a mess but you know as well as I do that when he loves someone, he will move heaven hell and earth to keep them safe and happy." Carlos laughs softly. "Okay. What about Dana? Rochelle? Jason? Emmerissa? Mika? Janice? Roger? Earl? I can do this all night."

"Dana is pretending for your own mental comfort. Rochelle probably has a vendetta against you since shes knocked you out and zip tied you to a chair. Jason swallows firecrackers, and it probably isn't good for his head. Em connects to all the interns. I'm nothing more than an intern to her. A pretty bad one too with my attendance record." A half laugh. "Mika has Ainsel and I'm pretty sure they only tolerate me because we are partners for most history projects. Earl can't express how terrible I am because Cecil is his best friend and your husband has a temperament to throw hands. Roger and Janice are same as Earl's reasoning. You're gonna run out of people." Michael smirks.

"Josie? My dead abuela? I got hit with a rolling pin because she thought i wasn't feeding you enough. Khoshekh? Hell even the Faceless Old Woman."

"Carlos," Michael gently places his hand on the scientist's arm. "Are you being hurt by your abuela regularly? Oh sweetheart, are you being abused?" He playfully asks in a light tone. "You're not alone. We can get you help." His abuela was such a sweet woman when the boy met her. Though she didn't really understand why Carlos suddenly had a fifteen year old with him, especially not one that was so underweight.

Carlos snorts. "You and I both know my father was the abusive one not my abuela. You can't deny that Josie doesn't love you. Oh yeah and the hooded figures."

Michael smirks when Carlos slips up with his words. It is early morning after all. "You're right. I can't deny that Josie doesn't love me. It is true and I admit it. She does not love me just like you said." He twists his sleeves. "The hooded figures tolerate me just like they do with everyone else in Night Vale. They probably like you and Ceec more considering you used their dog park for a vacation shortcut."

Carlos groans and rubs his face. "You know what I mean." He smiles softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Thank you for saving me, hero." He gently smiles. "Not as bad as before coming here… m scared t go home… Father will want me back eventually…" A quiet, fearful confession.

"I'm not a hero." Carlos smiles back. "Well you are welcome to stay here as long as you need. Do you want to sleep in your room or ours?"

My room? I don't have a room… I stay in your guest room… "m scared t be alone…" Michael answers instead. He doesn't want to be alone, but it's not his choice. Having already burdened the couple, it is their choice where Michael ends up.

"Of course. Come on. I'll get you situated before moving Cecil. And I'll dig you up some pajamas." Carlos stands and offers his hand.

Relief floods the abused boy, and he shakily accepts Carlos's hand. His legs wobble as he tries to stand up. He ultimately has to cling to his papa to stay upright, groaning at the pain.

"Easy does it." Carlos picks him up and carried him to the master bedroom. He sits Michael on the bed before going to the dresser. "After last time, Cecil went nuts and bought a lot of pajamas so ...take your pick." He grabs five sets of flannel. One with taco cats, one space themed, one with birds on them, one with boats and solid green set.

You're not a little kid. You should walk on your own. Pathetic.

Michael chuckles at the selection he's offered. "Cecil likes to go overboard. Space?" He smiles before quickly adding. "If-if that's okay...please…"

"If he didnt, he wouldn't be Cecil." Carlos hands over the pajamas. "You get changed. I'll go get Cecil."

A small nod. "Thank you." He twists his sleeves before finally accepting he has to change.

"I will be right back. Call if you need me okay?" Carlos says before standing up straight and going back to the kitchen to clean up.

The boy nods, but he knows he wont. With the swelling and bruising around his throat, it would be too painful. Michael carefully begins to undress after Carlos leaves the room. The pajamas are extremely soft, and for a moment he doesn't worry about borrowing their supplies. For a moment he is simply a little kid who had a nightmare and is sleeping in his parents bed to keep himself safe. The monsters aren't under the bed though. They live in his house and inside his head, but they dont hurt him as much when hes with his new family. His dads keep him safe.

Carlos cleans the kitchen quickly, putting the ice packs back in the freezer and the salve back in the fridge. He made a mental note to go back to the park and get the first aid kit. He then kneels down beside Cecil and shakes him gently to wake him.

Cecil jerks upright, nearly hitting his head again. "Kevin I will punch you in your ugly face!"

"Punching Kevin will have to wait. It's time for bed." Carlos says with an amused smile. "Come on." Carlos helps Cecil stand and guides him back to the bed room, knocking on the door frame.

Michael twists the sleeves of his new outfit. Too scared to risk raising his broken voice, he knocks against the bed frame.

Carlos opens the door and guides Cecil back to the bed. "Sleep."

Cecil gives Michael a sleepy smile. "I like space." He giggles and yawns, booping Michael's nose. He crawls onto the bed and holds up the fuchsia comforter. "Bedtime."

The boy smiles back. "Space is neat." He giggles when Cecil boops his nose. Looking unsure at the comforter and sleepy radio host, Michael twists his sleeves. They're safe. We are family. They will keep me safe. He reminds himself before finally crawling to join the space underneath the blanket. "Thank you."

"Neat." Cecil gives a small nod and closes his eyes, asleep in a matter of moments.

Carlos slips under the blanket and looks at Michael. "Want me to leave the lamp on?"

"P-please?" He weakly asks. Pathetic.

Carlos nods and sets his glasses on the bedside table. "Alright. Bedtime for you too."

"Okay…" He carefully shifts to hug Carlos while they lay there. Resting his head on the scientist's chest. "Goodnight, my hero."

Carlos didn't have the heart or energy to argue. So he just smiles. "Good night Pez Pequeño." He whispers.

#my writing #tw abuse #tw blood #tw bruises #tw misgendering #tw degradation #tw strong language #tw strangulation #my oc michael #intern michael #michael palmer #wtnv cecil #cecil palmer #wtnv carlos #wtnv #welcome to night vale #carlos the scientist

[weaverlings]

mutual interest

it’s still @cecilos-week and that means more fluff, you bet it does.

if Carlos is deft enough to replace his own vocal chords, then he can probably give great backrubs. luckily for his husband.

Cecil makes a lot of sounds.

you can hear Cecil's ringtone here

                                                        - - - - - -

Cecil woke to the sound of "The Jaws Theme (Disco Remix)" blasting from his pocket. He scrabbled for it without lifting his head, dragged it up in front of his face, and waited for his brain to comprehend whatever the caller ID had to say.

Oh. Carlos was calling. Well, specifically, it told him that it was "Carlos!!! <3 <3 <3," but that was just a visual representation of how he read the name. And to think, Carlos was calling him. Oh, and they were engaged. His fiancé, Carlos, was calling him.

So, like. Wait.

Cecil jerked upright. A piece of paper from his impromptu pillow fluttered down from his cheek. He swiped to answer the call, except that the phone didn't register his input properly, twice. The first thing Carlos heard was a distant, "no, come on!" before Cecil got the phone to his ear.

"Carlos! Hi, honey!"

"Cecil! Is everything okay? Wait, no, I do not need to know about everything right now, just some things, but - mostly, you. So the question I want to ask is, are you okay?"

"Uhh, yes? Is there a reason I-" Then he noticed the smooth black of the studio window. He checked his phone, and then his watch, just to be safe. The times didn't match, but both suggested a late hour. "Oh, shoot! No, yeah, I'm fine, sweetheart. I'm fine. I just-" He yawned. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just knew you'd be working late tonight, so I thought I'd get some things done, too, and I must've conked out…"

He yawned again, and the noise almost covered up Carlos' relieved sigh.

"Oh, thank goodness. Okay. I texted you a couple of times, and you didn't answer, so I was getting worried."

"Aw, hon. I'm so sorry. Listen, I'll be home in like, five minutes, okay? Ten minutes, tops."

"It's alright. The important thing is that you are okay. Don't stress. You're okay, so it's not a big deal. I'll see you soon."

"Okay. I love you, Carlos."

"Love you, too."

                                                       - - - - - -

Cecil made it home in eight minutes, and was on the couch with Carlos draped over him and a bowl of cereal in orange-milk balanced on the edge of the cushion in fourteen. Carlos kissed him lazily, lips brushing Cecil's shoulders, arms, and the patch of chest his v-neck left exposed. Wherever Carlos could reach without thinking about it, interested in contact more than romance.

"I'm so sorry for worrying you!" Cecil repeated, for the third time in those fourteen minutes. "Ugh. I can't believe that happened…"

"Would you rather deny that it did?"

"Probably. I could, y'know?" Cecil rolled his eyes. "But… Ugh. I guess it happened."

"It's okay, Ceec. Really." Carlos laughed, nuzzling Cecil's chest. "I feel kind of bad for waking you up. You must have needed that nap pretty badly. Scientifically speaking, people need sleep. You are a person, and so, you need sleep."

"No, no- Well, I mean. Yes. Far be it from me to argue with science, but it's fine. I'd definitely rather sleep here. Maybe I won't be too horrifically stiff tomorrow."

"Oh!" Carlos sat up, and lifted an index finger. "If you're worried about that, I might have a scientific solution for you!"

Carlos' scientific enthusiasm was catching; Cecil beamed up at him. "Ooh, what is it? You know how much I love science."

"Well, you know, back pain is caused by small creatures - not quite microscopic, but, you know, you'd definitely want a magnifying glass or other scientific equipment to get a good look at them - that jump up and down on your back as you sleep. This is why, scientifically speaking, the best position to sleep in is on your back. It makes you less of a target."

"I had no idea!"

"Mhm, most people don't. It's science. Small, living organisms are very scientific. But anyway, you can repair the damage with the right kind of pressure, because of another scientific law: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The opposite of uninvited creatures jumping on your back while you sleep, is an intentionally-received backrub from your beloved fiancé."

"Is that right?" Cecil said, but he moved the cereal onto the coffee table. "You're going to spoil me, dear."

Carlos hopped off of the couch, and stretched. "Maybe. That's an interesting hypothesis in and of itself, right? How much of what kind of treatment would it take to spoil Cecil Palmer? If I give you a backrub, would that do it?" He grinned, steepling his fingers. "If you want to test that, then roll over."

Cecil's ears went pink. He nodded, and shifted onto his stomach. Carlos half-stood with one knee on the couch, and started with his hands on Cecil's lower back. Carlos' tongue poked through his teeth as he rubbed his thumbs in small circle's along his fiancé's spine. Cecil shivered, becoming aware of knots in his back only as they disappeared. He pressed his face into his elbow, and gasped.

"Carlos. Do not, I repeat, do not apologize for calling me earlier. Oh…"

"Are you happy you came home?" Carlos' hands moved like he wanted to be sure of the answer. Cecil could not read his fiancé's exact intentions through his fingertips, but either way, oh, he did not have to work nearly so hard.

"Yes," Cecil breathed. "God, if you hadn't called me, I'd have been at the station all night, and I don't even remember the last time that happened. The back goblins would have just ruined me."

"Oh, they aren't goblins, Ceec. But the creatures, yes. Also, I don't remember that happening ever, so it must have at least been before we started dating."

"Right." Cecil was silent for a minute. "It used to happen, uh, pretty often, actually. I mean, it wasn't like I had anywhere else to be."

Carlos' hands stilled over Cecil's shoulders. "I know. I wasn't trying to be critical. I used to spend more nights in the lab than not, and now - well, the ratio is different now. Also, I don't know that I could say… Hmm. Thinking of it logically, I mean..."

"This is home?" Cecil glanced backward, his brow furrowed. "Oh, sorry-"

"No. That's what I meant. That's exactly what I meant, and you understood."

"Okay. I just didn't want to put words in your mouth or anything." Cecil shrugged, not as a gesture, but to remove Carlos' hands so he could lie on his side. "It's... important to me to report the truth."

"And that's all you were doing. It was a scientifically accurate statement. It was also, um, personally accurate." Carlos sat down again, and Cecil sat up, resting his chin on one of Carlos' shoulders and threading his fingers together around the other. Carlos concluded, "But I appreciate that you checked. It means a lot that you checked."

"Well. Well, I just care about how you feel, you know? I mean! Mmm, thanks for that, dear. I feel like, way better now. Just so much better."

"Mhm. No problem. Hey, honey?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you came home, too."

Cecil started, and buried his face in Carlos' shoulder. And there was something, a sentiment, a feeling, which he needed badly to convey, but he needed just as much to be where he was. Cecil covered the seam of his fiancé's lab coat in kisses, first over Carlos' shoulder and then up his neck, until Cecil was draped over him, this time, and held him in a long kiss.

#cecilosweek2019 #cecilos week 2019 #welcome to night vale #wtnv #cecilos #my fanfic #i feel like he has a ringtone but idr what it was #so that'll do

[scribeofmorpheus]

Dangerous Liaisons part 3 (Billy Russo x Reader)

Part One, Part Two

A/N: This entire chapter was inspired by the glorious serious Billy gif below. Also, the timeline for this fic takes place before Iron Fist but after Daredevil s2, which is between November 2015 and February 2016. This chapter gave me so many problems, I had hit a stone wall and was torn between an Overprotective Billy and a Jealous Billy. In the end, we know which one won out. (I’ll add the jealous Billy scenes in the deleted scenes page later!)

Words: 3259

Warnings: Ward is an Ass! Slight NSFW

Summary: An overprotective Billy, an overstepping Ward Meachum and an encrypted file lead to quite the eventful day.

(Gif is mine)

You burst in through the office doors making your way to your boss’s office. You were a few minutes late to a meeting with a prospective client you had been asked to help secure thanks to your late night antics. The only reason you were even fashionably late was thanks to one fantastic maniac of a cab driver.

"How's it look?" You asked the receptionist.

She gave you an empathetic look and warned in a droll voice, "He's in a mood," she was referring to Ward. Just fucking great! You were in no mood to deal with Ward's temper tantrums this morning.

"Just my fucking luck."

You made your way into Ward's office and excused yourself when you had interrupted him mid-pitch. The clients didn't seem completely impressed by what he was selling. Ward gave you a look of displeasure as you made your way to the table.

"Ah, let me introduce you to the woman who will be heading this proposed project once it gets off the ground, Miss Y/N Y/L/N," Ward introduced you to the group of overseas clientele mid sales pitch.

You walked around Ward who whispered menacingly, "You're late." No one else heard it, but he had made his point. He didn't like being left to clean up your mess, he was probably seething. It took every ounce of his self-restraint to keep from giving off any visible signs of his anger. You knew him well enough that a simple clenched jaw and balling of his fists set off the alarms in your mind to keep from interacting with him after the meeting.

"A pleasure. Sorry I'm late, traffic." That was a lie, but it was New York, you could blame being late to anything on traffic.

You had taken over from Ward and started relaying the details of the current contract you had set up between Rand Enterprises and an overseas company looking to sell their shares in favour of being converted into a new global group of Rand Enterprises. The pitch had started off a bit rocky but once you were in your own headspace you had no fears of the proposal being rejected. The meeting dragged on for hours and every once or twice you would see your phone screen light up as someone tried to call you, Ward was not too happy about your phone distracting from the pitch even if it was on silent.

It had taken you nearly three hours but the contract was finally signed with no need to make any amendments to the original deal. Everyone left the table feeling pleased with how smooth everything had gone. Everyone except Ward that is, who was still trying hard not to let that vein on his forehead pop.

"A pleasure doing business with you. I'll be sure to draft the first legal buyout draft and send it to your offices by tomorrow," you thanked the businessmen as they made their way out of the office.

"I hope ours will be a profitable relationship," Ward added.

When it was only you and Ward left in his overly large office he walked round to you, hands folded, chest puffed up and nostrils flaring. He was not holding back anymore.

"How dare you be late today?" He barked at you, "Did I not make it clear that it was imperative we land this deal?" He swept a hand through his shiny hair before taking a breath, a poor effort at calming himself down.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from making matters worse and egging his tantrum further.

"What the fuck was so important you'd risk missing this meeting for? And don't feed me that bullshit about traffic."

You were getting sick and tired of his attitude, but what could you do, Ward was your boss and to be frank you'd rather deal with his temper than your father’s judgement if you lost your job.

You looked Ward square in the eye, he found the raw intensity of your angry gaze discomforting. He was forced to look away from your eyes as he fidgeted about, shuffling from one foot to the other. He wasn't just angry but agitated too. He looked to be sweating a little as well.

"It's not bullshit. This is New York, I chose the wrong cab and left home later than I should have. Hence, the traffic," You shot back. "Besides, I closed the deal, didn't I?"

Ward loosened his tie and went to plonk himself down on his office chair spinning it to face the window that overlooked half the city. His head hung back on the neck rest.

"Just draw up the paperwork. I expect it on my desk in the next two hours."

Two hours? He was being unreasonable and you knew it was his way of punishing you for being late. It wasn't impossible to have the paperwork done by then, but it was going to be a bitch.

You grabbed your phone and bag off the table and made your way to the door, "I'll get right on it."

"Next time… turn your phone off during meetings. I need your full attention when you're here," Ward's words were no longer coated in angry undertones, it was different this time. His words sounded proprietorial, it made you feel uneasy around him.

You didn't know what to say so you went with something that sounded detached and professional, "I apologise for the oversight. I thought I had turned it off earlier."

You walked out of the office before you could give Ward the chance to say anything else, itching to place some distance between him and yourself. You hated having to deal with Ward on legal matters, you preferred working with his sister, Joy. She may not have been as joyful as her name suggests, but she was less of a handful.

Back in your office, you began to type up the legal documents Ward had requested -more like ordered- of you. As your mastered hands typed away at the keys, your phone's screen became illuminated, someone was calling you. You looked at the caller ID and to your utter disbelief, it was Billy calling. You needed to learn to use a password for your phone.

"Did you program your number into my phone this morning?" You sounded both impressed and sceptical.

"You should really make it a habit to put a password on your phone. Besides, I wasn't sure when I'd see you again, so I took the initiative," Billy's voice was low and soothing, the stressful events of the morning quickly forgotten as soon as his voice met your ears.

Instantly, you blood turned to ice as panic set in. If he had access to your phone, could he have seen the sniffer device? You rustled through your bag for a second and then let out a sigh of relief. In your panic, you had forgotten Cecil had disguised your sniffer device to look like a turtle-shaped USB drive.

Thank you, Cecil, you praised inaudibly.

"Y/N, are you still there?"

You cleared your throat, "Yeah, sorry. I'm a bit preoccupied with work, I'm practically buried under a mountain of paperwork," you groaned.

Billy chuckled, "Want me to come save you again?"

"Tempting… but I think I can manage to save myself this time," you said brazenly. A cheeky smile spreading across your face.

"I don't doubt that. How about you save me from a boring night alone by letting me take you out on a proper date tonight? We can get to know each other a little bit better over a few drinks, seeing as how we didn't spend a lot of our time together… talking."

He was sly, you'd give him that, a part of you wanted to see him again, be near him again. You felt your resolve failing as you opened your mouth and let the words spill out.

"I get off work at five. I'll text you the address. Goodbye, Russo," With that, you hung up the phone and dialled for your secretary on the office phone.

"Yes, Miss Y/L/N?" Gavin, your secretary, answered.

"Hey, Gavin. Can you call the IT department and tell Cecil to come up here. My computer froze again."

"Right on it boss-man," Gavin said in a peppy attitude.

You cut the call and continued working on your paperwork, your computer working in perfect condition.

*** You were halfway done drawing up the documents when Cecil walked in looking like death itself. His messenger laptop bag was strapped across his skinny chest and his long bony fingers clutched onto a disposable coffee cup like it was some ancient prized treasure. His curly dark hair was ruffled and his eyes had circles moderately the same colour as his hair: dark.

You eyed him up and down, the poor kid looked like he'd survived a few rounds with the grim reaper.

“You look like shit."

Cecil gave you the stink eye before walking around your desk to lean against the table next to you, he made sure to move some office equipment around to make room for him to plant himself atop your desk lazily.

“Someone rudely awoke me last night. I'm an insomniac which means whatever precious few hours of sleep I do get should not be disturbed," He droned out.

You pulled out the turtle shaped drive and handed it to Cecil, "Disguising it in this-" You pointed at the drive, "-was a good idea," you applauded his ingenuity.

Cecil took a large swig of his coffee before extending his hand to you. You placed the drive in his palm and watched him twist it and turn it this and that as though he could process information simply by staring at a storage device. You smirked at him in amusement.

Cecil never ceased to amaze you. From his terrible flat humour to his constant sleep deprived state, he reminded you a lot of your brother. He was about the same age too, only less chipper or emotionally weighed down. Of course, the drawback of that was the fact he was cursed with have permanent bags under his eyes, you don't remember a single day where Cecil looked well rested.

You felt the poisonous sting of grief threaten to make itself know, being around Cecil had revived all your repressed emotions towards your brother. And yet despite the fact you tried to close yourself off to him, treat him with indifference, he had a way of lighting up the room even if he only ever wore black clothing and sported a perpetual blasé look.

You balled your fists to distract yourself from the emotional pain by focusing on the physical pain of your nails digging into your palms. If Cecil had noticed your subtle emotional break, he hadn't bothered to comment on it.

He pulled out a pair of large noise-cancelling headphones and placed them over his ears. The sound of muffled metal could be heard faintly coming from his headphones. You grimaced at the discomfort your own ears would have suffered had that been you.

Cecil spun around and then reversed towards your large glass office doors, "I'll text you once I sort through the data. Don't call me, it will be ready when it's ready and not a moment earlier."

You shook your head at his terrible social skills, musing at how freeing it must be to have no filter for your words or have to pretend around people. You mouthed a heartfelt, "Get. Some. Sleep" at the kid and watched his give you a Vulcan salute before disappearing down the office hallway.

***

Your two hours were nearly up when you had just finished proofing the paperwork for Ward when the man himself waltzed into your office, airs about him like he hadn't just had a moment of distress earlier.

"Mr Meachum, I was just finishing up the first draft. I was going to ask Gavin to deliver the documents to you," you affirmed.

Ward seemed taken aback for a second, fixing his tie in place. When he finally caught on to your meaning he cleared his throat and pinched his nostrils, taking a deep snort like inhale, "Ah, yes, the paperwork. That's not actually why I came down here."

"Oh?" Now it was your turn to look on in confusion. Ward fiddled skittishly with his hands, not knowing whether to fold them or lean them on your desk, he settled for the former.

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just wound up about this new deal and you are one of the few people I depend upon to be on their A-game. I'm sorry for overstepping my boundaries. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you," Ward stepped closer to you, almost like he was about to make a move.

You watched him cautiously, not entirely sure on how to process his apology.

"It's alright, don't worry about it."

You quickly hit send and your mail was sent to Ward and Joy's collective inbox for them to read over the contract. You stood from your chair and grabbed your small bag off the ground as you made your way towards the door. You hoped Ward would pick up on your not-so-inconspicuous indication that you were trying to bolt before this conversation got any more uncomfortable.

He didn't.

Instead, he stepped in front of you, looking down with a sleazy smile, "Listen, how about you join me for a drink? Least I could do to make up for being such an asshole earlier."

You kept your composure and held yourself steady, you had dealt with many unwanted suitors who didn't know when their advances were not welcomed. However, Ward was your boss, you had to deal with this in a muted manner, make him become disinterested, "That won't be necessary. Besides, I already have plans."

Something in Ward snapped and his demeanour changed from unprofessional to angry, "Is that the reason you got those personal calls during the meeting this morning?" His temper was getting worse by the minute. What was his deal?

"I don't see how that is your business, Ward," You dropped all pleasantries and glared back at him. You had never called him by his first name and the blatant disrespect of it had enraged Ward further.

Ward grabbed your forearm and leaned in closer to your face, nostrils flaring and veins protruding, you were prepared to sock him in the jaw when you heard Gavin's soft voice stammering worriedly in the distance, "S- Sir, you can't just- You need to make an appointment. Sir!"

You lifted your head to see Billy standing tall and menacing in front of both you and Ward. Poor Gavin looked at a loss for words as he stood behind Billy completely dumbfounded.

Billy's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. His dark eyes turning black as he gave Ward a lethal stare. If looks could kill alone, Billy could have easily mastered that deadly skill. Something about the severity of his gaze burned you, for the first time in a long time you were reminded what fear felt like. Cold shivers crept up your spine and Ward showcased his own look of dread.

"Let. Her. Go." Billy glowered. His voice a tone darker than you remembered. Ward complied, but then he turned to stare down Billy instead.

"Who the hell are you?" Ward barked.

"Billy Russo, who the fuck are you?" Billy glared at Ward's hand still clenching your arm in a death grip. Ward loosened it and you snatched your arm away.

"Ward Meachum, the CEO of the building you’re standing in," Ward said with an air of entitlement.

Billy took a step closer, his figure towering over Wards. He pinched his nose and inhaled deeply, "So what, that gives you the right to manhandle your employees?"

"That gives me the right to do whatever the fuck I damn well please."

Both men glowered at each other. They looked like feral beasts about to claw each other to shreds. Impeccably well-groomed feral beasts.

Billy standing up to Ward was enough to light that fire within you instantly, you gulped at the tense moment unfolding before you.

Finally, you took it upon yourself to diffuse the situation before more damage could be done. As much as you wanted to punch Ward in his perfectly polished teeth, you needed this job, which meant Billy couldn't fight your battles for you. Not that you needed him too.

You placed your hand on Billy's chest, ushering him out of the office, "Billy, let it go." He didn't budge an inch. "Russo!" You snapped at him garnering his attention. His eyes snapped to yours faster than lightning.

"Whatever you say," Billy gave you a reassuring smirk, but his fists were still balled up on his sides. As he turned around to leave your office, he shot Ward one last menacing glare.

"Have a pleasant day, Mr Meachum," you said, tongue in cheek. Ward simply scoffed and clenched down on his jaw hard enough you could see his vein straining against his temple.

On your way out Gavin looked like he was about to say something, clearly, he was beyond shocked at witnessing that little power wrestle between Billy and Ward, "That's quite alright Gavin, you're excused for the day," you said.

***

"How can you work for such an asshole?" Billy's hands were locked in a death grip on his steering wheel. His nostril flaring slightly.

You let out an ironic laugh, "Don't most people?" Billy didn't find your comment amusing, he was too tightly wound. "Hey-" you whispered as you pulled his face to look at you, "Anyone ever tell you how hot you look when you’re angry?"

Billy smirked, "Well, now they have."

"Thank you… Though, I hope you know I didn't need you to come to my rescue. I can handle myself."

"I know you can. If you don't take shit from me, chances are you don't take shit from anyone else."

"Glad we're in understanding then," you said as you pulled Billy closer for a kiss.

The kiss soon turned impatient and needy, both of you letting out lewd sounding pants. You were already wet from watching Billy be all aggressive towards Ward, you knew you couldn't last the rest of the night and you certainly didn't want to wait either. In fluid movements, you slid your panties off, manoeuvred around his gear shift and pulled up your pencil skirt to straddled him in his seat. Billy chuckled.

"Someone might see," he said, though he wasn't protesting. A suggestive smirk plastered on his godlike features.

"I know," you breathed out before you unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and began to fuck him in his extremely expensive car in the underground parking lot. His leather seats let out moans of their own every time you gripped them for stability.

Part Four is HERE!

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As Always: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, feedback is always appreciated. If you want to be added to any tag lists just ask -I don’t bite I promise!

Tags: @songtoyou @rainyboul @itsjaynebird

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#Billy Russo x reader #Billy Russo #William Russo #reader insert #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #ward meachum #rand enterprises #marvel netflix #scribescribbles #The punisher imagines #the punisher #ben barnes

[dorktapus42]

Practically Paradise

Hello! This is a Doctor Who and a Welcome to Nightvale crossover I though of on the plane a couple months back. Completely fluff, pretty short, but hey, I kinda wanted to post something and here it is!

Summary: Cecil gets more than he bargained for on his day off. 

Word count: 2130

Pairings: None. 

I hope you enjoy! (Sorry mobile readers as always if the cut isn’t there.)

Cecil was sitting at a small cafe in Nightvale, listening to music and looking at the people around him. The shop had just opened, and it was well-received; they made excellent pastries and coffee, and the service was excellent. Nothing strange happened there in Snicker’s Cafe, that much was true, but that was probably because nothing had happened for a while. He sat there eating his pastry and drinking an iced coffee, glad to be on his day off. He was granted one a month, which was way more than he needed, but he tried to use them to the best of his ability for something useful. So he sat and relaxed, watching the townspeople and checking his schedule for the next few days. He looked up and away as a hooded figure went into the store. The cashier, a nice girl with red hair, quickly gathered up its order, and it departed in the direction of the dog park with a great collection of drinks in its gnarled, blackened hands. Coffee run perhaps? Who knew what they were doing. He pulled out a quill and jotted down a few notes on a napkin for his next broadcast. The Management probably wouldn’t approve, but he wrote it down anyway. Maybe he should do a piece on the hooded figures- granted he could get it through Management at all. He turned up the volume of his music and looked around. It was normal as always; people were buying groceries, scouts were in groups learning how to tie knots for their ritual amulet making competitions, a few scientists were inspecting some potted plants- it was perfect. It was the same balmy weather as always, and there was a pleasant, light breeze coming from the south. Practically paradise. He slipped the napkin carefully into his shirt pocket and the thin, black chalk into its proper case. Perfectly perfect. He left a few bills on the table and stood up, collecting his coat, clearing the table, and brushing crumbs off of his faded purple jeans. He threw his matching purple jacket over his shoulder and walked Main Street. Familiar faces waved and smiled, his footsteps in tune with the beat of his music. Pigeons pecked at seeds and leaves rustled in the trees. Someone was walking their dog. Practically paradise. He walked by the fire hydrant on the corner of Barkley and Sheppard and rubbed the top, as everyone did. He whistled a little tune down Mayberry Way, as some people did. He waved to a cat lazing on a fence, as few people did. He walked to his house a few blocks away, as nobody did but himself. He wiped his feet on the mat and unlocked the door, hearing it’s hinges give the familiar faint squeak as always. “Hello house.” He hung his coat on the stand. He nodded to the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home, who was inspecting the cracks in the ceiling, as usual. “Hello Faceless Old Woman.” He went around the corner to his dining table and saw the unfamiliar figure sitting there. There went his perfect day. “Hello unfamiliar stranger sitting at my dining table. Would you like some coffee?” “No thank you Cecil, but thanks anyway.” The voice was familiar, but not the face. He pulled out the chair opposite. “I apologize mysterious figure, but I can’t put a name to your face. Do you have one?” “A face? Yes.” Well that much was obvious. “No, a name. Speaking of names, how did you know mine?” The figure smiled in his direction. “I am known as The Doctor. And as for your name, your friend over there told me. Wonderful character she is- reminds me of a friend of mine.” “Well The, it is nice to meet you. You obviously already know my name, and you have somehow gotten inside my house. Did she let you in?” “No, no, I got in myself. Lovely decor you have in here, very modern these days.” His shock of black hair moved like his hands as he spoke, and Cecil couldn’t help but look at it. “Well The-“ “Simply Doctor will work. Sorry to interrupt.” “Well Doctor, you definitely are not from around here. The voice is unlike any of those around here, and neither is your style similar to anyone but mine. Lovely bowtie, but definitely not from around here.” “Yes, my you’re a clever one!” His hands were still moving. “But I have a few questions for you.” He pulled out a notebook and pen. “How long have the anomalies been present?” Cecil’s eyes were fixed on the notebook. He knew what it was of course, but he had never seen one outside of a heavily guarded safe just like with the pen. “I’m sorry Doctor, but I will have to contact the Sheriff’s Secret Police. You carry two banned items in Nightvale, and you will be taken the the dog park for reschooling. Please do not fight or I will have to use force upon you.” The Doctor looked down at his hands, then pulled something out of his pocket. A badge of some kind? An ID? He showed it to the Nightvale resident with a smile on his face. It was covered in gibberish. He swiftly went behind the man and pinned his hands behind his back. The items fell to the floor. “I am sorry as a host Doctor, but you will have to come with me.” To his surprise, the Doctor broke out of his grip and grabbed something else from his pockets, a green light emitting from one end when he pushed a button. He shone it in his face. The last thing Cecil saw was the Doctor’s surprised face as he felt a familiar twinge in his forehead and the world went black. He woke up on the floor, The Doctor drinking tea and sitting on the coffee table. His head felt fuzzy like it was stuffed with cotton, and he held his head as he got up. He felt his forehead with his thumb, and the strange feeling went through him again as his extra eye disappeared once more. Cecil eyed him warily. “What was that thing?” The device was sitting on the table, the light off. “What happened?” The man before him set down the teacup. “Are we playing twenty questions now? If so, this is a sonic screwdriver, and you collapsed as soon as I shone it in your face. What are you anyway? This is Earth, right?” “Yes- how did you get into my house? I lock the door and-“ “I have a time machine. Parked it right in the hallway. What planet are you from?” “What? You parked it in my- hold on.” He marched over to his hallway. Sure enough, a large blue box blocked the way. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to block your access. If I knew there was anything here-“ “What do you mean ‘what planet am I from?’ I’m a human!” “Not with that extra eye you’re not. What are you really?” He caught a glimpse of a completely different man for a split second- in a brown suit with hair that rivaled Cecil’s. The Doctor has taken out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and was inspecting Cecil closely. “You don’t have the eyestalk, or I’d assume you’d be a dalek host. My sonic can’t get a reading on you. Everything comes up fuzzy. So what are you?” He looked annoyed. Cecil was just confused. “We are all human, are we not?” The Doctor shook his head, and pointed at the Old Woman. “She’s an alien. A harmless one for sure, but still not human. I’ve seen them before. You’re lucky she’s passive.” Cecil shook his head. “That I guess I can believe, but me? Everyone else in this town is normal. We’re all strange Doctor. I’m not an alien, I just have a magic eye.” “Magic? Preposterous! What does it do, other than make you look weird?” Cecil shook his head, rolling up his sleeves. “Let me show you.” He brought him to his couch, where his bloodstone sat on the coffee table. He picked it up and turned to the Doctor. “Stand back. This could get violent.” The man scoffed. “You don’t know violent. I don’t know violent. But if you insist.” He stepped a few paces back and crossed his arms. Cecil sighed and sat down with his legs crossed. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to chant in the runic language he had known his whole life. His tattoos glowed. The bloodstone turned red. The air felt thick with magic. His eye opened. White runes appeared and floated in the air. He stopped after a few seconds of chanting, and the light from his tattoos and his eye slowly faded. He set the stone back on the table and crossed his arms, getting up and turning towards the Doctor. “See?” The man had backed up a few paces, pointing the sonic at him. His face was paler than usual, and that was saying something. Cecil raised his eyebrows as the residual magic in the air caused him to see something that should be impossible. “Who are you?” “I’m Cecil Palmer. And you have two hearts.” He was surprised to say the least. “How do you know that?” “I saw it. I merely went into a meditative state, and the residual magic in the air allowed me to see that. How are you even alive? Your body temperature is ice cold!” “I’m an alien. I’m supposed to be like this.” “But you look human!” “And you look Timelord. Your point?” Fair enough. He simply shook his head and went to go grab a snack. He rifled through his pantry. “So I’m not an alien.” “That’s not completely out of the window, but it is unlikely, yes.” “But The Old Woman is.” “Yes. They may have been breeding here for generations- it would make sense for her not to know.” “But what about the rest of Nightvale? Most of us are human, but what about the anomalies you spoke of? Are those aliens, or magic?” The Doctor shrugged. “Who knows. Could be both, but I wouldn’t bother with it. Have you ever wanted to travel?” “That’s a random question. But yes, I traveled quite a bit in my teenage years.” “Teenage years? How old are you? You don’t look a day over twenty.” He raised his hands at the glare sent his way. “Just curious I swear.” Cecil thought about it and shrugged. “I don’t really know. Thirty years? Time is meaningless here.” “What do you mean?” He reaches around Cecil and grabbed a bag of custard mix. He then moved to the fridge. “Well, we have dates and time, but months can go by two, three at a time- and nobody remembers what happened. Days, weeks... they run together here. I don’t mind, of course, but my job is lenient about that. I just do a radio show.” The Doctor had an expression of contemplation on his face, but it quickly fell. “A radio show? What is it called?” “Welcome to Nightvale. It’s a simple little thing, really, but it does pay rent. What on earth are you making?” The alien before him was dipping fish fingers in custard. He realized he was starving. “Give it here. I require payment for my services.” He dipped a finger into the custard. Not bad. He licked his fingers, paused, then went to go get some milk. “You checked the seal on the fish fingers, yes?” “Yes.” “Good. They’d turn into snakes otherwise.” “Snakes?” He groaned, putting his head on the table. “Okay, this is how I regenerate. Get this thing- you know what, never mind. I’ll take the chance.” And he went back to scarfing down the meal with reckless abandon. Cecil shook his head. “I’m going to go lie down. This is too much craziness for one day.” He went over to his bedroom, stepping into the blue box to try to go through it. His mouth fell open. “What kind of magic is this?” The Doctor came up behind him. “Oh, not magic, science. There’s a difference- Well, at least in this universe. But that’s not important- you need to go to bed.” He ran over to the console and flicked a few switches. “Goodbye Cecil. I hope to see you again.” Before Cecil could respond, he was back in the empty hallway, his forehead tingling strangely and a silver key in his pocket. He set it down next to the bloodstone and decided to take a nap on his couch this time.

He really needed to get back to work.

#Welcome to Nightvale #Doctor Who #Crossover #Ficlet #I really should make these kinds of things a series on A03 #Have a great day! Thanks for reading!

[crown-eater]

Fluoridated Urethane Crisis Kismet

The world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds. Uptake Table of Contents

“--And here, you see?”

‘Choly held out his reader across the coffee shop table from his boyfriend, to show a bad quality photo from a security camera. The scrawny, bespectacled punk retracted it shortly after and huffed, doing a split-screen to pull up a different bad quality photo side to side, and re-offered it. In one photo, a figure in a dull hoodie with the hood drawn glanced behind him with the intent to steal a jug of fabric softener. In the other, a figure in a long dark grey coat lined at every seam with reflective straps had a slicked back undercut and one eye.

“Photo of the Geek in the Level 5 Greeley’s last year. And a still from one of last week’s EPA press conferences. The specialist’s the Geek! No way that isn’t him.”

The typical soft cyan ambiance of charged Wolfram concrete surrounded them at their window table. Cecil shifted in his seat, and looking into his lidless pumpkin spice latte, his tattoo-sleeved arms rested his weight against the tabletop. He pursed his snakebitten lips tight together, and began to rub at his forearms. An observer wouldn’t think the two had a thing in common, down to looking like they came from entirely different decades. ‘Choly was the openly obsessive one, androgynous with long dark bangtails and a dayglow goth-punk sensibility, porting all manner of splints and braces. Cecil had about him a tailored rockabilly vibe, sporting a brassy short pompadour with a roll-cuffed button-down, suspenders, and drainpipe trousers. Just as much, Cecil didn’t want to find correlation in those two photos presented to him. He didn’t like the supposition that this mystery figure was the Supermarket Geek. But, he couldn’t deny shared features.

“I still don’t know how that busted-up six-year-old reader even connects to the Web...”

“Why’re you always raggin’ on it?” ‘Choly unscrewed the handle of his cane beside him and surreptitiously slipped out one of the vials of vodka inside it, to doctor his black coffee. He sipped it down a bit to make more room, then grinned to himself as he put the tippling cane back together. “I told ya before why I hadn’t upgraded. Does everything I need it to. Like show you photographic evidence I’m right.”

Cecil’s brow knitted at the device in front of him, trying to overlook that his date was sneaking alcohol in a place that didn’t serve any.

“You know, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but...”

“What?” The steam on ‘Choly’s circle-frame glasses vanished as he lurched nearer with a saccharine smile. “Y’know something about that ‘specialist’?”

“Sort of. How do I even put this? A lot of what I do isn’t just working on the equipment and tagging content in the Hub. It’s helping people research stuff. Showing them how to navigate information on the Web. It’s a lot of that, Central has most of the city’s servers. And there was a guy last year, he... came in asking about radiation poisoning. He was real upset, and in the process of trying to determine what kind of information he needed, I said something that made him just blurt out that he’d been in proximity to that... that blob thing. The thing that wrecked that chemical factory last year.”

“That thing was radioactive--!” The awkward nerd clapped a metal-stayed hand to his mouth realizing his volume, worried to disturb the other patrons. “That thing was radioactive? What put the specialist someplace to run into the mutant thing? The,” he mentally lapsed a moment, hung up on the word, viscously phlegmatic, “the larva. It... reminds me of a grub worm.”

“...You are obsessed with insects.”

“I know.” Another sniff, this time more to stifle mental wilding. “...Imagining it as a larva, I’ve always wondered what it-- might have turned into--”

“--Just let me finish.” The exact opposite, Cecil thought to himself, if only you’d let me finish. He leaned in and dropped his voice. “The blob thing had hid after busting up the factory, and as an off-duty cop, the guy trailed it hoping to get the authorities involved if necessary. But it turns out, the blob wasn’t just sentient, it was human. Was. And the way he put it, it was in pain like a lion with a thorn. Lots of thorns. But the swelled up masses started vanishing right in front of this guy. The thing was excreting metal from its skin, but it was having trouble and cried out for the guy to help it pry off the metal. The stuff hardened in sheets. Like a shell, I think he said. Soon the thing wasn’t swollen up anymore, and looked just like it could’ve been a teenager. It wasn’t until it was near-incapacitated afterward, just laying there exhausted, that it told the guy he’d helped it get half a ton of raw technetium out of its body barehanded.”

The librarian sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, and partook in his coffee while it was still hot. The obvious mental pause drove ‘Choly insane. But after such an info bomb, the dreg’s bursting brain seized up and couldn’t just rattle off every question imaginable--so he gave his date the time to form the punchline to these grotesque descriptions.

“So yeah, ah. Of course the cop went to the doctor about it, but he couldn’t stop insisting in a post-traumatic fugue that it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Wouldn’t elaborate what that meant, but he insisted he knew the kid meant no harm because he’s spoken to him. So this guy’s a cop, and he’s had a few run-ins with the Supermarket Geek on his beat. ...That’s the same kid. And that ‘specialist.’”

‘Choly paled in horror as he adjoined all the facts Cecil had just set out before him. In a ragged mental loop, beneath the table, he pressed and dragged a finger against the copper metallic leggings exposed through the holes in his ripped skinny jeans. He unstuck to grab the reader and open the video of the EPA conference he’d snapped the still from. A woman with dark complexion, in hazmat gear minus the headwear, stood in the middle of a cordoned off and heavily protected street, with a handful of EPA employees behind her.

“E-cycling will not halt during this crisis. There is no threat to human life, so long as appropriate caution is taken. Our remediation efforts for this Super Fund will not impact city life, though it is strongly advised that citizens not sight-see the disaster and respect the quarantine lines. The Agency--”

He skipped forward to where the press had begun asking questions.

“--dition to the dozens of engineers and environmental technicians we have at our employ, we also have a specialist on site.”

“Miss Bensington, is that the specialist there, behind you?”

An assortment of figures stood alongside her, but a few feet behind her stood a small, tailored silhouette which only in spirit felt like one could call it hazmat suiting. The figure visibly recoiled and drew the neon chartreuse hood which did not match the coat, and turned his face away the instant he could tell the live Web footage cameras had zeroed in on him.

“We have the finest on hand for this monumental undertaking. Our methods may prove a bit unorthodox, but the potential for catastrophe demands it.”

He rewound the clip to the half second right before the figure grew too camera-shy. He paused and stared at that face.

“The Geek’s... a meta...”

‘Choly had always struggled to hide his abrupt bouts of sexual heaviness in public settings, and here it escaped him in tone and in the choked exhalation which followed it. Metahumans were no longer some mere tabloid myth, cemented before him in reality by a circumstance of federal proximity. In his own city, where a radiochemical disaster was unfolding right beneath them all. His ragged unsteady breathing stifled him, and his hollow glare remained transfixed upon the reader screen at length.

"--How long have you known? I’ve been goin’ on about the Fulton Mass for months now.”

“I think it was August last year. I told the cop I wouldn’t tell anyone. And now, I don’t know if I like the idea of the EPA employing the Geek, if they’re calling him their specialist.”

Cecil almost shot off that he shouldn’t have said anything, in a playful jab at the reaction he’d elicited, but a woman approached them from behind ‘Choly and beat him to it.

“And just what do you know about the Geek, or the EPA?”

The heavyset Indian woman, wearing lavender makeup and business casual attire, with her bun in snood combs, stood behind ‘Choly with fatigue locking her gaze on Cecil. She held in her hand a frozen green tea. Cecil could see the woman’s federal ID badge clipped to her sweater.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“His name is Galen, you know. Galen Miner. And though he may no longer be human, he’s still a person.” She made a roundabout gesture with her drink before taking a sip. “Do you know why people call him the Geek? Because they think he’s a freak show. But he doesn’t eat chicken heads. He’s not a hybrid.”

“So you have hired him on with the EPA.” At Cecil’s comment, ‘Choly scrambled about face to put the voice to the figure, dumbstruck that this was the woman from the press conference.

“What he does eat is invaluable to us at a time like this.”

Unable to contain himself, 'Choly garnered Bensington’s line of sight.

“You’re feedin’ him the Quarter.”

“Galen’s an unfortunate case, but that’s nothing compared to the others.”

“--Others--” ‘Choly’s voice cracked unbearably, and he forced his legs crossed under the table and glared at Cecil, who glared right back at him, for some sort of mutual mental grounding. “O, others?”

“If you’ve been keeping up with the news about the disaster, you’ll recall how the affected Stalkers that have sought medical provisions keep getting turned away? It wasn’t their lack of documentation that denied them care. Medical training does not currently exist for what is happening to them.”

Fighting how this information affected him dulled his distracted eyes, and he trembled. The last thing he needed was to hear he was right about the chemical leaching at Level 1, but it was absolutely the first thing his degenerate brain begged to hear. He presumed she meant exposure to the chemical had reinvented the Geek. Though he failed at length to form a response, the look on his face said everything.

Cecil asked what he knew ‘Choly couldn’t spit out:

“What’s causing all this?”

Bensington shrugged and did her best to ignore ‘Choly’s demeanor.

“We aren’t entirely certain yet. We just know it’s extensive, and it’s not isolated. ...It’s late. You’re smart, the both of you. Nearly too smart. Putting two and two together, figuring out the correlation. You especially, young man.” She shook a finger at Cecil, then she set down her drink long enough to produce a business card from her cross-body back and scrawl on the back of it. “I could use some civilian input on all this. Until we get a chance to talk more in depth, I can’t have you mentioning this conversation to anyone, not even that it happened. But, if you could call me... Tuesday next week. Ten in the morning or so. Perhaps we could contrast anything Tri-City natives would notice against the Agency’s current comprehension of the situation.”

Cecil stared at the card as she handed it to him and picked her drink back up.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“I truly appreciate it--”

“Cecil.”

“Yes.” She nodded knowingly. “Cecil, I appreciate it. Truly. If you’ll excuse me, though. Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you’ll have a good evening.”

‘Choly sputtered as she left the coffee shop. Her offhand comment regarding his perceived gender had left him stupid. The slight burned almost as badly as not having had the luxury of learning more, and only knowing Cecil would speak to here again, soon, calmed his nerves.

“Sorry about that,” Cecil started.

“You’re sorry?” ‘Choly waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Every shoe I own would’a been in my mouth by the end of it, if I’d been able to say and ask everything on my mind.” Feeling small, he nursed at his cheater’s black russian and looked up to his boyfriend, who now stared off into the room. “...You really gonna call her? Sounds like she thinks you really know a lot about this.” I really want you to tell me more. Everything you know. You have to.

“Dunno, I should.”

“Probably.” ‘Choly could tell Cecil didn’t want to talk about the Geek anymore at this point. With a detached sniff, he grasped for a momentary change of subject, and dove into the first thing that came to mind. “Cecil. Been tryin’ to build up the nerve to ask about it, bringing up the EPA video earlier. I... need your help. I’m havin’... a bit of trouble.”

Still fidgeting with the business card, Cecil shifted back in his seat, consternation mashing his brows together. From the conversation up to then, it was easy to speculate this kind of trouble might involve the law.

“I’m a librarian, not a magician, Melanochro. What makes you think I could help?”

“It’s money. Sort of. My money, any rate. My landlady’s evicting me if I don’t pay off my back rent by the end of the month. And before you go thinking I’m askin’ you to help me with my bills, that’s not even the thing.”

This offered Cecil no improved reassurance. ‘Choly swallowed, and continued.

“We’ve been... we’ve been going out for what, six months now? As it is, I spend a lotta time at your apartment, n’you at mine. It’d be cool if I...” Suddenly, words didn’t work, and he let his needful glance speak for him.

“Your job hasn’t been paying enough for you to afford the micro-apartment?”

“You say ‘your job’ like bein’ a sorter’s anything consistent.” The dreg laughed in weak anxiety. “By the time I moved out of my dad’s place, I’d started trying to be a little more proactive with my sorter’s skills. Bein’ a sorter doesn’t pay too much, but hacker intel? I’ve always tried to be savvy with what I put my hands on, before I scrapped it down to raw materials. The most recent thing I came across netted me a hundred-fifty, but that was a year ago. The sorter’s scene has been so dry for lucrative component handlin’, and you know my health doesn’t really allow for me resorting to truffling. Seekin’ stuff out on my own... I’m down to my last twenty creds. Last paid my landlady in June.”

“You should have told me sooner you were struggling so bad.” Cecil flopped down the card and looked at him with a square serenity. “I like having you there at my place. I don’t see why not. And you know what...” He trailed off a moment while he assessed logistics. “It wouldn’t be such a physically taxing thing, if you were to get a job at the library. I could pull some strings and get you working in physical copies with me.”

On the one hand, it relieved ‘Choly not to have met objection, but Cecil’s next logical step only served to chew the dreg up. In his mind, he was failing to keep face with this lovely guy he’d been seeing for months. Cecil had thought of ‘Choly as some exciting and mysterious element of danger in his life. ‘Choly admitting all he had, how not on top of everything he really was, it devastated the dreg. And the part that he had to disclose next, he squirmed.

“I, I don’t. I haven’t got papers. No social. Don’t you need that stuff to get a city job?”

“I could... tell Dave I’ve got it all taken care of, just need his clearance. I know you’re good for it. You’re smart, and for how glued to your reader you are, I know you love books--actual books. I’ve been begging him for over a year to find me somebody to help me in physical copies, to be honest.” Cecil smiled. “Somebody as passionate about it as I am.”

“You’d... do that for me?”

“I love you. I want you to be safe... and, well. Ok. I want you to be ok. And from what you’ve told me, you’re not doing ok. I think things will work out great. We’ll get you back on your feet.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Entirely true, though multiply-so. In order to have a safe place to live, he’d have to give this job offer a shot. Moving back in with either of his parents simply wasn’t an option.

“Say you’ll let me take you out for lunch tomorrow. We’ll talk about getting your place packed up, storage options, all that. Ice-99 sound good?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Bensington was right.” Cecil glanced at the card again to make sure he’d remembered the name. “It’s getting late. How about we cut out and call it a night? You’re free to crash at my place. You are moving in, after all.”

‘Choly took a hard swig of his black coffee, letting the vodka burn his nerves.

“I was... thinking more that we could go back to my place. Get an idea of what I actually need to bring with me.”

“You know more books always have a place in my apartment. And if you’re talking about that mountain of clothing by your bed, I’m sure we can figure something out.” The two exchanged a laugh, the tension softening as Cecil traced a finger against the back of one of ‘Choly’s wrist-braced hands. “I’m good with that.”

“Let me...” ‘Choly knocked back the last third of his drink. “Let me get a refill, and we can get out of here.”

“Room or no room?” Cecil ribbed as ‘Choly used his cane to get to the counter.

#the world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds #the uptake #fluoridated urethane crisis kismet #melanochro kara #george cecil #yvpraksya bensington #tfw you change one minor detail and it instigates a massive butterfly effect and you have a gerontion moment #let me know if the readmore is fucky. i can't tell wtf tumblr mobile is doing anymore

[bulkhummus]

i do think id very much like a carlos break down— perhaps a frantic voicemail, perhaps a muffled conversation accidentally heard happening on air after an ad ends— and carlos repeating this mantra of something like ‘im sorry im not perfect, i was never perfect, ill never be perfect’

Like OOO okay id LOVE for cecil to be rightfully petty — right— and we all laugh but then the voicemail comes and its carlos and we all think hes gonna be perhaps snippy/passive aggressive back but instead he just has this massive melt down because cecil has never been truly mad at him on broadcast before. And for carlos, he knows that means hes really and truly messed up.

and cecil just, not knowing what to say because ‘perfectly imperfect’ only goes so far and carlos doesn’t have emotional outbursts often so he’s so ill equipped. and hes also like directly facing the consequences off him being a dick to someone On Air which he almost never has to do. like cecil has grown and knows that carlos is a person who has flaws, and he loves the flaws because they make up who carlos is as well, but its hard for me to imagine carlos accepting cecil thinking of him as anything other than perfect when he takes back/negates so much of what he preaches. thats gotta be such a delicate thing to traverse. Not to mention the town idolizing him and placing him in this pedestal as well.

like its so so so delectable that carlos is such a private person about the things that really matter when hes dating the towns most boundary-eroded man. its so delicious that carlos is the ONE PERSON that cecil can’t pry a story out of and broadcast to the town for very fair and justifiable reasons. and the thing is, is carlos KNOWS cecil wants and expects more of him in regards to communication, hes very clear about it. (I do think its as equally difficult to date carlos for cecil as it is for cecil to date carlos) they have yet to meet their happy medium i think?

and now carlos is now being forced to confront his past (UOWII coming to set up shop in night vale) and i just want to see him uproot EVERYTHING. i want cecil Hurt, and carlos panicking and all of that good tasty drama — like sometimes an argument is necessary its healthy and pretending its all okay is NOT which i think cecil has a tendency to do— and ignoring it is Not which i think carlos tends to do and UGH i just think its over due. cecil being Actually Frustrated with Carlos and not just over dishes or spice racks.

#i have some wine in me i wish i wrote this more structured #and neat #but you get my point #ignore it if u want i know its long and rambling #also repetetive im just banging pots and pans until august 1st honestly sorry #wtnv #welcome to night vale #cecilos #wtnv thoughts

[gaylawrence]

ive talked abt the jigsaw plot holes on the discussion page of the saw tv tropes forum and the general consensus is that logan woke up edgar bc hes a cop and probably would've been able to get in idk how he switched the bodies or anything esp since they needed a crane to lift the coffin. for anna he probably knew from her/her husbands fighting and hearing her scream at the baby. for the nephew they may have examined the bike after and seen the brake was broken, for carly maybe they saw (1/2)

that the womans purse was messed up and far away and seen that she died from an asthma attack and put some of those pieces together and figure she had been robbed. idk how he got ryans story. but my biggest complaint is the apprentice timeline. bc it only makes sense he would go for amanda right after cecil but we see them making the rbt together which! doesnt make sense! i can only figure they were making it for someone else after amanda had been tested. (2/2)          

personally i would agree with logan waking edgar up if not for the fact that logan wasnt near the hospital at the time of edgar being woken from the coma. id have to rewatch but yeah. logan wasn’t technically a cop either, he was a coroner. he didn’t have authority over the living so even if he was around he wouldnt have had access. only a doctor working in that hospital would have.

yeah theres no real explanation for the coffin, so i hope that in the next one they do a good job about explaining it.

i agree on the apprentice timeline. i feel like they should have focused more on the ending of saw 3d? it was supposed to be the last but they made another one so it would have made sense to continue the original timeline instead of slapping down a new guy that disrupts everything else that had already been established. theres so much to jigsaw that makes no sense at all but it would probably take a week or more to list it all dhfjdhf

#ask #cheryltunts

[cicinicole-14]

13,14,20,23,28,30

13. what is a misconception you had about lgb people before you realized you were one?

um firstly, that bisexuals were a thing. I didn’t really know about that. and then like also that bisexuals don’t have to be 50/50. sometimes its 60/40 or 99/1 and thats okay. and also that, you don’t have to identify as anything. also that compulsive heteronormativity is a thing. I was drowning in it because I grew up in the south at a christian school and being gay is an abomination. and I was expected to grow up and while my parents never pushed the “grow up and marry a nice man” on me, they implied that id get married one day and have a family in the traditional sense. um, also, you aren’t obligated to come out to people and also you don’t have to come out to anyone or label yourself at all. and its okay if you don’t figure it all out right now. I thought you had to figure everything out and label yourself. hell fucking no you don’t n its great because I identify as bi right now, but I watched @sydsliftingface’s coming out video a few days ago and she said something that really has stuck with me the past few days and it was really important so I’ll touch on that. “theres a difference between that you could continue to kiss boys versus wanting to kiss boys” and I think thats really important because I’m kinda having another awakening to the fact that maybe I’m more gay that I originally thought huh? idk… come back to me on that… but that quote was really important to me and I’d like to thank her for that.  

14. what is a piece of advice you would give to your younger self

everything will make sense. and you will go at your own pace. and you won’t realize the impact that one thing had on you until months later and hey remember your best friend that you thought of sometimes and didn’t know why? that was an actual crush, sweetie. and its okay to like girls too. also just like hey, everything will make sense. it will click. it takes time and whatnot. but you’ll be okay and you’re accepted. my friends that I’ve come out to have all been supportive and like I’m so happy now. things are really great in this aspect of my life. school? not so much… but we’re surviving. 

20. favourite gay ship (canon or not)

ugh fuck me theres too many. sanvers tho. like I think were going to go a little deep here for a sec. I’m going to say calzone and sanvers because listen up y’all. when I started watching grey anatomy in summer of 2013. calzona was the first wlw ship I had ever seen on my screen and it really opened my eyes to hey, lesbians/bisexuals exist and its ok to like them. and then with sanvers, I didn’t really realize it but I ended up watching supergirl s2 in like a day, and since that day (few days after it had been released on Netflix) I had just in the back of my mind been thinking more and more about my own sexuality and the way Alex had come out etc. and I came out later that July (I watched the show in may btw) ad like come November when 3.05 aired, It hit me how much that Alex/sanvers story really impacted my life and I didn’t expect that and was actually really upset by the breakup even tho I had prepared for it, knew it was happening etc. but like emotions can really fuck you up, y’all. 

23. have you ever been in love?

no. I’ve had feelings for someone, but never in love. 

28. are you out? if so how did you come out

I’m out to my friends, but my parents/family do not know. I don’t plan on telling them. I came out/accepted my sexuality right before I left for college and haven’t really gotten to assess how they really will feel about me being bisexual. so like. I’m closeted for now. 

as for friends. I texted @only-freakin-sunflowers and @unicornshepherdess. they were the first to know, and I posted a thing on tumblr, and came out to them because I knew they wouldn’t judge me at all. they were the first to know because I knew I didn’t have to be afraid to tell them. then, I planned on telling my best friend chelsey next, at home over Christmas break. that didn’t end up happening. the night of my sisters wedding I was a bit intoxicated with my best friend autumn who I’ve known since I was 2 and I didn’t plan on telling her next (she was last on my list) and we got to talking about sexuality or something (idr I was drunk) and I came out to her and she hugged me and I then knew it was all gonna be okay and then I spilled beer on myself fun times. then It was around finals week (nov 27th to be exact I know this bc I came out 7/27, 10/27, 11/27 and then sometime like 12/29.) I was face timing chelsey about Elle mills coming out video she had just posted and I was like “hey, chels, Yano how Elle came out to the world? well I’m coming out to u, I’m bi” and she just was like “awe Cecil I love you” and it was good. I told her I planned on telling her in person but I figured that moment was a good chance. and then when I got home she was actually with me and I told Claudia. @unicornshepherdess gave me a book for Christmas called “this book is gay” and I made Claudia read the back that says “this is for lesbians, gays, bisexuals, trans, undefined and even the straights. its for everyone!” and I told her to read that (I was pointing to it) word. and I was like hey thats me, I’m bi! and she laughed and hugged me. it was a nice moment. but anyway that was it. 

30. what is a piece of advice for people who may not be in a safe place to express their sexuality

first off, I feel like you’ll never end up feeling 100% safe at all. but just know that you aren’t alone in that feeling. I am literally scared out of my mind at the prospect of telling my parents or them finding out. and tbh, I doubt they would do anything, they’d probably just hug me and laugh and tell raunchy non-offensive jokes and grab me a beer, but that nagging “but what if they hate you, you know they’re going to look at you differently now” is in the back forefront of my mind all the time and I’m scared. its terrifying. also that you need to accept yourself first completely, before you think about trying to come out in an unsafe space. 

my advice is that its okay to be scared, because you are not alone. 

so, we got real deep on these questions, but I would like to thank you, nonnie. I think I needed these tbh. 

[narcissuslies--archive-blog]

NAME: "Rhys Chase” AGE: 26 ( Month Day, 1991 ) GENDER + SEXUALITY: Cis Male ( he/him/his ) + Pansexual AFFILIATION: Old Olympus OCCUPATION: Con Artist FACECLAIM: Sean O’Pry

BIOGRAPHY:

His life began at thirteen in a 7/11 restroom. A stolen razor held to his scalp, he ignores every dark lock of his past falling unceremoniously into the sink. The new face in the mirror is longer recognizable, but more importantly it’s still handsome. Within minutes, he’s killed the runaway boy on the missing child posters. Paranoid and careful, he leaves the gas station void of any trace of him, looking cleaner than it was when he arrived. His head feels lighter and his pockets heavy, though they carry nothing more than a few bus tokens and a stack of fake IDs. For now, this is more than enough.

His life began at thirteen, and anything that happened prior is irrelevant. It’s a story he’s erased from history, because it’s a tale that isn’t worth telling. Besides, there are so many better, more interesting legends he’s created himself. There’s Ashley Montgomery, the southern socialite who was disowned from his family after having an illicit affair with a Senator’s son. There’s Keir Ashwood, the illegitimate child of a 27 Club member who is haunted by his father’s tragic legacy. There’s Jay Amory, whose origins were ripped straight out of two F. Scott Fitzgerald novels, but no one’s been smart enough to catch on yet.

The first story is about Cecil Alister, a fresh faced fortune teller who made himself a home out of a traveling circus. His mother was the North Star, his father was the Man In The Moon, and every night they would show him the future in his dreams. Wide-eyed chumps willingly handed the boy their cash just to get a glimpse of those visions, and even skeptics couldn’t help but be enchanted by the mystic aura he was cloaked in. Never mind that he bought his tarot cards from Barnes & Noble or that his predictions were more fantastical than accurate, because how could someone with such a pretty face have anything less than good intentions?

Like the rest of the troupe, he was a performer getting paid to entertain, though it was not the money that kept him around, but the attention. People were literally paying to hear him speak, and it was inside that candle-lit tent where he mastered the art of telling stories - a much prettier word for his nicely-worded lies. Even though the crystal ball he peered into wasn’t made of real crystal, even though he could not read the tarot cards in his hands, people still believed everything that came out of his mouth. His looks drew them in, but his words were what made them draw out their wallets.

Outside the tent, he learned a handful of other useful skills in every city they passed through. In Milwaukee, he’d aptly watch every single one the escape artist’s performances until he learned how to pick locks himself. In Taos, the contortionist taught him how to quickly break into any car in under ten minutes. In San Jose, he finally nicked the magician’s wallet after suffering months of her sleight-of-hand pickpocketing. It was after he learned every secret behind their tricks did he become disillusioned by the manufactured magic of the circus. In his boredom, he killed Cecil Alister, and abandoned the life he’d spent two years creating.

The lifespans grew shorter with each persona, though the ending was usually the same. His attention was always set on the next interesting subject, resulting in him quickly shedding his old skin and adopting a new one. He created and destroyed these characters so quickly there was hardly anytime to mourn them. After several years and several aliases, he became more comfortable behind a carefully constructed mask than he ever did when he showed his true colors. He became a doctor, a scientist, an entrepreneur, a professor, and made a profit off of every fib he told. It’s much easier to be dishonest, to weave tales of deceit, to bury the truth beneath a pile of lies. It gives him control over the story, grants him the upper hand, and leave him with a clean escape.

He likes to think that even without his sharp tongue, he could get by just as far with a smile. It was almost unfair how many advantages he was given in life, but he wasn’t complaining. His looks are a weapon to be utilized, as well as something to take pride in. He can count on one hand the number of people who haven’t fallen for his glamour, but why would he bother? He doesn’t care for those who don’t care for him. A seductive tale and clever lines can take a man far, but an attractive face can take him even further.

There is only one other person in the world who is his equal in beauty and charm, though he will never admit it out loud. Not many people know about the six-year-old girl in New Mexico, who possesses his smile and his eyes but not his last name. She is nothing more than an accident, her mother is nothing more than a past dalliance, and he is nothing more than a ghost. And yet, he’s completely enamored, and has thrown out every rule just for her. He begs her mother for visitation rights, for a phone call, for a picture of a girl he has no right to call his own. He sends her letters and birthday cards, from various addresses and names across the globe. She’s the only person he’s ever cared for, and ironically she’s the only person who wants nothing to do with him. The child has spoken to him only once, her voice so enchanting and not unlike his own, and he can never forget her words no matter how hard he tries: “Leave me alone. I don’t like you. You are not my dad.”

His last creation was Silas Hale, a lawyer who flew into New York in order to offer Mount Olympus his legal services (and snag a few nights in the Presidential Suite). He didn’t think anything of it when he pick-pocketed that old man’s wallet, only later realizing who Harvey Johnson was when he got caught trying to flee his empire. But he did not fear the titan, and was instead confounded by how one man managed to see through his multiple façade. Cronus also saw the potential he held, and sought to utilize those lies and that pretty face for his own gains. So an offer was made: join Old Olympus, and obtain all the power and money he’s desired in exchange for his loyalty.

Rhys Chase was born from this pact, after Cronus asked him for his real name. For a moment, he’d forgotten the title he’d been granted at birth; it was so many lives ago, and that thirteen year old boy died with his name. So he fished out a new one and presented it on a silver platter, his accompanied handshake so confident and firm that he had to be telling the truth. If Harvey had any doubts about believing him, he didn’t show it. After all, he was good at what he did, and in the end greed always won out.

[comicsinkcorporated-blog]

Gwenpool Interview

CI: Hello Mr. Hastings. Thank you for joining me today. We’re here to talk about your comic that your currently writing, Gwenpool.

Gwenpool has certainly became a fan favorite character amongst many readers, having already crossed over into Champions and Rocket Racoon & Groot, as well as having several other major characters appear in her story. She’s also getting 3 different pop vinyl this month which is pretty impressive for a character who’s solo series has only been around for a year. Did you ever expect the character to be as popular as she is?

 CH: No, certainly not, that being said I don’t think you can ever really guess that. But yeah no, when I was first asked to figure out how to make Gwenpool make sense at all, it was sort of just like a silly project. It was like “lets see if we can get anything out of it”. None of us expected her to go on and get a series and I think she’s like in 5 video games or something now. So yeah really unexpected.

 CI: Where there any unexpected challenges when if came to writing Gwenpool

 CH: Oh for sure! Her first appearance is a variant cover on a Deadpool book, which I guess was implied that it was Gwen Stacey as Deadpool. And people liked that character design so much that they started doing fan art and cosplay of her, so we decided “alright lets try to make her a real character” but you know it cant be another Gwen Stacy. And we don’t really wanted to make it related to Deadpool, so it was like “how do you take that costume design and how do you make the expectations of what this character might be like and make her make sense without her being tied to Gwen Stacey or Deadpool, which is you know how we came to the idea of making her a person from the real world who, at least when she start off, think of the Marvel Universe like Grand Theft Auto or something where she can just mow down people and it doesn’t matter because they’re not real.

 CI: Is there any particular comic or person that you draw inspiration from when writing Gwenpool?

 CH: Ah sure,  honestly a big one is Grant Morrison’s Animal Man, where Animal Man becomes more and more aware that he’s in a comic book and he’s being messed with by Grant Morrison. So I thought about that quite a bit

 CI: Gwen has certainly picked up a myriad of companions, but can I ask is there any particular reason you picked Batroc the Leaper?

CH: Yeah, I’ve always loved Batroc. But Specifically for this book, he kind of represents this early thematic thing we had going on which is on the surface things look very silly but we can get to a real person behind it. You know the idea of a gwenpool is pretty silly but you know we can bring a little pathos to it by showing how she misses her home, she feels guilty about stuff and she acts really brash and crazy but then she reveals that she’s really insecure. I really liked how silly Batroc is but like but there have been certain takes on him that reveal that he has his own thing going. He doesn’t have superpowers, he trains really hard, he has this obsession with defeating captain America, and I thought having a silly character that we took a little more seriously would make for a really cool mentor character to sort of challenge some of Gwen’s ideas about being a comic book character.

 CI: Speaking of supporting cast, is there any one of Gwen’s possie that your particularly fond of?

 CH: I really love Cecil the ghost. He’s just had a terrible time. You know Gwen thinks its so cool she’s like you have ghost powers now. This is awesome, you got an upgrade, but he’s like “No, Im dead. Its awful”.

I just like him a lot, because he’s just mopey.

 CI: Will we ever see Gwen run into Deadpool, Spider-Gwen, or the newly resurrected Gwen Stacy?

 CH: Um Yeah, Marvel actually just revealed a teaser, that Deadpool is actually going to be in issue 13, which comes out in March. It was very exciting. We were just working on this other arc and I had this idea of how Deadpool would fit into it and thankful the editors went with it. We wanted to just have the book solicited but marvel went “NO, this is a big deal. We need to let people know”

 CI: Is there any character or series your hoping to have pop up in Gwenpool?

CH: Sure, I love the stuff with the champions, Id like to have more of the champions in Gwenpool if I can fit that at some point in the future

Also coming up we have Kate Bishop, AKA Hawkeye as well as Ghost Rider, Robbie Reese. I like having the other teen characters show up and have their perspective on her.

 CI: So Gwenpool, much like half of her inspiration Deadpool, is a mercenary and tends to kill a fair amount of people. But despite that, the comic is very lighthearted. How do you manage to maintain its light hearted tone.

 CH: Well we definitely work hard at it. We’ve had instances were Ive taken it too far and the editors had to step it and tone it back a bit. That said a key part of keeping that light tone is gurihiru, their work on the book. They are responsible for a lot of the visual humor and cuteness. They’ll understand for what Im going in a scene comically and they will blow it out completely with their own ideas of how it should be visually portrayed. So a lot of it goes to them.

 CI: Will we ever get more details on Gwen’s relationship with her family?

Sure are! We’ll be teasing that out over the current arc, and really diving in around issue #16

 CI: To you, what do you think makes Gwenpool different from other 4th wall breaking comedy heroes?

  CH: Well lets see, I guess that’s deadpool, She-Hulk, Squirrel Girl.

Well the big thing is that Gwen is completely justified. She came form the real world, she is not from a comic book and that is it. Deadpool is a little crazy and She-Hulk tends to be winky but never really justified 4th wall breaking from a story point of view. But Gwenpool, its at her core. Everything from her comes from that one key concept, that she knows she in a comic book.  

 CI: Is there any retcon that Gwen herself isn’t a fan of or character that she is a fan of?

 CH: Retcon, that funny, I never thought about that. I mean she love Kamala Khan, she loves Jane Foster Thor, she loves spider-man. Part of that is that I wanted to show she is a young reader so she only started reading currently. She’s only read the newer books. She’s also a huge fan of Peter Parker. But those are her favorites, the ones she’s run into so far.

CI: Lastly would you like to leave the readers with any last words before we end?

 I mean Im just so happy people are enjoying. It seemed like such a weird idea and Im glad so many readers are on board for it.

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