the clocks are not real

the branch of psychology concerned with the perception of sound and its physiological effects. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● Carlos The Scientist Independent RP Blog written by rachel

[just--space]

Eye-of-Sauron nebula js

[psycoustiic-blog]

"Your labcoat is tacky." [ blumxdic ]

     he looks him, up and down. there’s a note of laughter, and ‘matter-of-fact’ in his reply.

     “um — this is a business casual labcoat, and modacrylic is very in this season, actually. you might wanna look into that sometime”

[blumxdic-archive]

      “Zhen you might vant to recheck your instruments und your eyesight, dummkopf.“

[psycoustiic-blog]

     there’s a stunned silence from him, for a short time.

     but then, he remembers.

     “um...”

     again, he becomes very matter-of-fact.

     “you can’t argue with science. it’s fact, and all”

[strangelande]

[dulcetbroadcasts-blog]

. texts are never enough. though Carlos contacted him throughout the show, nothing could compare to the reality. seeing him standing in the downpour of flaxen and daffodil brings a smile to Cecil’s face.

. todays weather is a tad unusual-‘even for Nightvale’, Carlos might say later, when they discuss it over dinner later. Cecil had not seen it rain hues of yellow in what may have been years, or a few months. time was so finicky, it is hard to tell.

. Cecil does not bother popping his own umbrella open. why would he when perfect Carlos will happily hold him close under his own? the broadcaster is happy to walk to his boyfriend.

. spilling notebooks is not on the plan today, and Cecil starts slightly at it. he bends down to hurry and collect his boyfriends things before they are ruined. so much science would be lost, if he did not! and he was very much into science, how could he let any go to waste?

. the stained notebooks are presented back to the broadcaster’s boyfriend with a smile, tinged slightly with worry. his hands are now dripping with a deep cadmium. “Carlos, darling,” he says, “i missed you today.”

[psycoustiic-blog]

     frustrated little sounds, the scientist wrestles with his notes and the handle once again; plastic somewhere smooshed between bunching lab coat fabric. and his papers, all his intricate, detailed Latin and latitudes, going soggy and threatening to wash away a hard days mulling.

     “agh, i know”

     he shakes a bound book lightly, and it dribbles with shades of gold.

     “i heard on the show that the weather was going to be like...this, and...ah, i still didn’t have the time to bind my work in business-ready sandwich bags...”

     completely misses the mark on Cecil’s comment. but the sentiment is there, when he looks up from his soiling workbooks, gives his boyfriend a softened smile.

     “thank you for the help sweety”

[psycoustiic-blog]

[ @sarahiism​ ]

     if Carlos begs, he might get a glimpse, of what dangers lurk in deeper caverns of Night Vale where he can’t breathe and the hot desert sun can’t reach bright claws down to bake the sand. but that’s not really what he wants from this.

     Carlos treats every member of the community with respect they deserve. But he has to ask about this. it’s part of being a scientist.

     it’s become a pattern in town, he’s noticed, that the people are so drawn by noise.

     he is at the ready, with notebook and writing utensil in hand. his eyes are alight with stars. he is in his element. precise, and accurate questions.

     “so, how exactly do you do the whole ‘luring’ thing?”

     Night Vale shows a non-coincidental amount of struggle, and Carlos has pinned so many things to his boards and the walls and the underside of the chairs in the lab cafeteria. notes on what similarities there are, that he’s picked up on.

     Cecil makes so much of this town, just through words and his own personal input and drive (or maybe that’s just Carlos thinking, mixing personal and scientific reason together in one for the softer idea). and, he has called rallies out to beat down whatever strife the place comes to.

     and it works.

     and that is just fascinating.

     so surely, with this newfound knowledge, he can add a little more to this psychoacoustic puzzle through this. surely.

[psycoustiic-blog]

[ @voxvallisnocte ]

     they are trapped here with just cell phone light. that, and the glitter, of speckled daylight between quick beating and sickly torn wing-feathers. the flocks have gotten into the attic, eaten the wires, they blotch out the sun through the windowpanes and Carlos is fascinated by it all.

     what caused these plague-eaten, decayed sparrows to migrate so rapidly, with such fever and blood-lust that they’re bombing themselves into the glass with rhythmic ‘thunk’ after blunted ‘thunk’? it is a mystery now. Carlos adores the possibilities behind it.

     he sits, cross legged beneath a desk while the tiles crumble overhead. he is a mix in both the longing for his lifetime, his presumed future where he does not die under beaks peeling skin and muscle from his bones to watch his wet veins match in cadence to tempo of grubby, gnat filled wings, and the enthrallment of just how these creatures may hunt. A test for the future, when he, and Cecil, are not in danger (an inevitability, always, in Night Vale), and can watch the fray from a distance.

     “if we do manage to survive this somehow would you be a dear and help me write up the data on their social patterns? the way they flock together is so interesting!”

     Earth Sciences is abandoned — save one living in the recycling closet, who they’ve already bid hello, and an untold arrival of deathly fowl took up the residence and they are multiplying. they are in the walls, and the ceiling, and underneath the floorboards. they beat, beat, the foundation is alive, like a pulse, but not of blood and heart; those things are too healthy and too alive for this. of wing, and feather; dry and crisping, their bristles litter Night Vale. 

     Carlos counted, they’re all in sync, and it is astounding.

[dulcetbroadcasts-blog]

        do not worry,                    all is as it was meant to be...             it was meant to be lonely, and unfair, and terrifying, and fleeting.                                                        do not worry. ------------------------------------------------------------------------             Cecil rp blog, 5+ years of experience.

[psycoustiic-blog]

headcanon

     since that 'incident', the only thing Carlos has access to in the Pokemon Go app is a grey-scale background with thin black lettering, stating "They are hunting. They never were the prey". he's rather jealous when his co-workers get to go long walks at lunch time without him.

[communitycalendar]

Thursday is leveling up. You no longer qualify to engage with Thursday. It is beyond your reach, above your head, and honestly out of your league. Your attempts are noted and catalogued, along with the many other times you have overstepped your bounds. You are advised to please stay within your bounds.

[psycoustiic-blog]

headcanon

     Carlos hasn’t been able to touch Pokemon Go since that one glitchy Diglett wriggled out of his phone. it writhed its way into one of the cupboards in the lab and he hasn’t been able to find it yet.

[psycoustiic-blog]

[ @dulcetbroadcasts ]

     it’s raining six different shades of yellow today. canary, butterscotch, and dijon are some. but Cecil’s broadcast told more, and no one on the street has fallen to their knees to curse the tones on the radio for the tuscan sun on their flower gardens.

     Carlos, of course, already knows why this is. he’s been there, done it all and had his morning coffee after it. he’s sent a text or two, during weather forecast, saying ah, he’s got it, that is the weather today, and would he like to meet up after work? he wished it could have hung up a little on them though. Carlos has the coat he wore in to the lab, folded over an arm, it used to be chiffon. now the tail ends are saffron and drip-drying gold. 

     he always has a spare (very handy, and very well-worn), so he’s clean and capable under an umbrella, handle lining the stiffness of his arm in a balancing act while he rummages for pen caps at the bottom of his bag. he’d ask Cecil for help, to at least hold their cover, but he’s fine.

     but he spills his satchel into the lemon puddles. right in front of his boyfriend.

[basteea]

Visit Original Link

Oh you lie next to me

Heart is beating heavily

There’s blood in your ear though

Blood on your shirt

[spaceexp]

Mars from Curiosity, two days ago

via reddit

[psycoustiic-blog]

"Your labcoat is tacky." [ blumxdic ]

     he looks him, up and down. there’s a note of laughter, and ‘matter-of-fact’ in his reply.

     “um — this is a business casual labcoat, and modacrylic is very in this season, actually. you might wanna look into that sometime”

[blumxdic-archive]

       “A real man of science doesn’t need such a flashy zhing.”

[psycoustiic-blog]

     honestly, he’s offended. but Carlos isn’t easy to anger, its rare that he even dislikes a person. people are too fascinating to discriminate.

     even so, his tone is a little catty.

     “scientifically speaking—“

     he clutches the open layers of his lab coat, like he’s about to give some sort of lecture.

     “that is an opinion and opinions are meant to be respected buuut....for every test, check, and experiment that i could do i’d always end up with just the same conclusion...”

     the note in his voice jumps an octave.

     “that i look great in this!”

[psycoustiic-blog]

|| Ever since hearing that Wil Wheaton was a voice on WTNV I honestly can’t see Earl Harlan as anything other than Wil Wheaton in a chefs hat. Nothing strange, nothing weird. Just Wil, in a chefs hat. All the time.

[strangebiology]

Lamp made out of a real human torso by Amber Nichuk and Daniel King. Nichuk collects human remains and documents them on Instagram   at curiousoddsnends.

[my-coin-operated-boy]

Kevin, a creature of habit, had been sure to keep himself very busy. It was true that technically he was out of reach of Strexcorp and the Smiling God, but the need for productivity and perfection lingered strongly. The few times he had tried to fight it had ended in misery, so he had found a way to accomodate it all into something a little…nicer. Building a new station, building a new life, helping out where he could… Kevin made sure he was constantly doing something, despite the evidence placed before him that he and Carlos were equals. No authorities, here in the Otherworld! But then again… Kevin truly was a creature of habit.

Currently, Kevin was playing assistant to Carlos, helping out in the lab with general medical things. He hadn’t been asked to help with experiments, though he looked forward to the day he did..! “Yes, but it’s nothing too big this time..? Or at least, I don’t think so… There wasn’t a lot of blood,” Kevin answered Carlos’ questions, pulling his attention away from the distractingly beautiful liquids that were currently boiling beside him.

[psycoustiic-blog]

     Carlos slips his phone away, back into a coat pocket and out of harms reach from the sand or the elements. 

     he should try to find more gloves here, he’s no doctor, but the marks he’s dealt with had him dressed as much (he wished he had other lab coats to switch around in). sometimes, when the army didn’t pay him mind and stopped with their war-worn intentions. luckily Carlos doesn’t have to deal with the incidents alone.

     “oh, that’s fine, i can probably spare the time to help out again”

     he dusts his hands, clean on clean lab coat, but just out of habit. by some astounding and possibly otherworldly grace, he is as pearly as he ever was.

      “we should— probably deal with the mess they left behind soon. you know, before the heat bakes away any blood cells and we have to deal with deadly airborne fumes again. i don’t wanna breath in any toxins that could burn away my windpipe”

     even so, he sounds light, like talking simple fact, rather than twisting agony. Carlos doesn’t have the time for danger or worried speculation. he’d never get anything done if he headed every warning or followed every dirt-cracked highway sign informing him to watch out for two-headed deer on the roads. he has a lot of other things to worry about! like what he wouldn’t find if he kept so careful!