almost metaphysical

"I believe there are energies in the universe. It might sound kind of cosmic, but I think I'm sensitive to them." semi-private indie RP blog for Monica Reyes, from The X-Files. Tracking 'singingwithwhales'. Status: semi-hiatus.

[artmania-feed]

ART PRINTS BY HAJIN BAE

City dreams 

Lotus Whales 

I’ve seen hope

Life is beautiful 

Blue whale and crescent 

Life is beautiful 

[singingwithwhales]

.

[killeanjones-blog]

You’re faithful, you’re dependable. You’re without guile. You’re very comfortable to be around.

[word-stuck]

[singingwithwhales]

psa;

Thing is... As some of you might know, last year was pretty complicated – yes, that's putting it mildly – and it was finally time to take over the reins of my life again. Or, as this gypsy woman (well, more like a gypsy entity talking through a medium, but we're not going there) told me, it was time to die and be reborn. Lots of things to fix, people to get back in touch, old paths to mend and new ones to find out. And not nearly all the time and energy required.

(Also, the World Cup happened. I’m not sure if I ever mentioned I’m a little too into soccer, but yes, I kinda dedicated a whole month of my life to it. No regrets.)

In all honesty, I don’t know if I’ll be coming back to Tumblr anytime soon, but I do hope so. What can I say, I've been missing you guys!

PS: Okay, I most definitely won't be around until next week – I'm leaving on a quick trip on Friday, and there's a lot to do before I'm gone – but hey. If anyone feels like dropping a message or just tagging me on anything, I promise I'll check it asap!

[singingwithwhales]

I don’t know what Zelda / Scully / Zelda (???) may have sent you so allow me to redeem myself.

[singingwithwhales]

Agent Reyes—

             a warning.

[distorteddisbeliefarchive-blog]

[ text; ] what

[ text; ] WHAT

[ text; ] i was totally kidding about my roommate, yeah

[singingwithwhales]

[text: unknown] Yes, you really did text an FBI agent about your murderous roommate.

[text: unknown] At least you'll have a funny story to tell when she gets back home? 

[text: unknown] ... If she ever gets there.

[text: unknown] Oh god, I'm kidding. That was awful, sorry.

[distorteddisbeliefarchive-blog]

[ text; ] . . . . who is this

[ text; ] listen i hope she's not a murderer too but

[ text; ] are you the government 

[singingwithwhales]

[text: unknown] Oh if only! No, I just work for them. Somehow you accidentally texted FBI. 

[text: unknown] (No worries about your roommate. Assuming you were joking.)

[text: unknown] (If you were not, you can still try this number.)

[distorteddisbeliefarchive-blog]

♣ [Muse is up to you — if you feel like replying at all!]

Send ♣ for a text not meant for you

[ text; ] my roommate disappears like all the time

[ text; ] i hope she’s not a murderer

[ text; ] huh wait

[ text; ] . … . . this isn’t the right number jesus

[singingwithwhales]

[text: unknown] Well, I sure hope she's not.

[text: unknown] But if she turns out to be one, or even if you grow more suspicious, you might want to reach this number again.

[nastyablackpanther666]

[youkeepmakingteaarchive-blog]

[ Well now she was definitely caught. Which wasn’t even that odd really. Considering the fact that she’d just spat it out. The woman would’ve had to be deaf to miss it. Or slow. Sometimes people were just slow. She was slow sometimes, on the uptake. She missed every joke Mitchell ever made, it always went right over her head. But she couldn’t really expect the same of everyone else. Obviously. ]

                             No—ah. I mean. Well.

                                        Dead. I mean dead. A little. Well—a lot, actually. Technically. If you really want to get down to the nitty-gritty sort of details. They’re boring. Sort of. It depends on what you find exciting, frankly I shouldn’t be talking to you about it at all, my husband would completely lose his mind. But now I’ve got and said it, and really I sort of owe you because I did destroy your light fixtures.

                                                                         I am sorry. About the lights. Really. I didn’t mean to.

[singingwithwhales]

[ She quickly waved a hand in dismissal, and if the gesture seemed a little exaggerated, well, she apparently had a ghost in her room. And was now wondering if said ghost would stick around whenever she went out to buy new lights. Because she would have to, eventually. ]

              Oh no— no, please! It's okay. No problem, really. I, uh— I'm sorry you're... technically a lot dead?

               [ There was a British ghost in her living room. As far as she was aware, it wasn't the sort of thing that came with the job, no matter how odd it was at times. Most times.

                                               Maybe it was just her. ]

                       Don't get be wrong, but— How did you wind up here anyway?

[our-lady-of-space]

We gaze up at the same stars, the sky covers us all, the same universe encompasses us. What does it matter what practical system we adopt in the search for our truth? Not by one avenue only can we arrive at so tremendous a secret.

Quintus Aurelius Symmachus on Religion (via herladyshiptheastronaut)

[perfectopposite-deactivated2024]

URL inspired graphic for hotdoggett

[embersandaerosol]

The Game Is A-Soot || Monica Reyes & Delsin Rowe

How many days had it been since he last smoked? No, not cigarettes or a blunt, but letting the dark vapors rise from his fingertips and the embers crawl on his skin. How he was missing it, picking at his tattoo, letting the burning feeling just swell up inside him. How he just wanted to explode.

But he had to listen, just this once to the big-brother-boss-man, and keep it all inside. No “tricks,” no displays of heroism. If he wanted to find out what was going on with the Conduits while avoiding being pegged as a “bio-terrorist”, Delsin had to lie low. 

Just a few more days. Just a few more days. As soon as we figure this out, it’ll be over and I can go back to being my awesome self. Delsin began to feel trapped in his own body. He just needed a fix, to burst in a chimney or maybe even just burn. With hands in his pockets, he walked past a piece of old art he spray-painted against the building in the Lantern District, remembering when that gave him a rush. But what did it for him now was letting it rain ash.

But he couldn’t risk it, not at that moment when he saw a woman talking to a vendor in a hushed, yet stern tone. It was an odd way to dress just to spend a day in Hing Hay. A bit too stiff. A bit too suspicious. A bit too like Augustine. He stopped, body moving forward like his ears dragged him closer to the two conversing. 

If only supersonic hearing came with being a Conduit. Which he was not at that moment, he had to remind himself. Delsin turned on his heel, and quickly shuffled back past the painted wall, shoving hands deeper into his pockets and shrinking he neck between his shoulders beneath his red beanie. He just had rather not be in the same area as anyone who looked remotely like they wanted him speared on a spit. 

[singingwithwhales]

The decisive moment. As per Bresson's definition, the precise time when significance and form come together, a fraction of second that defines the event. And though it was meant to be about photography, Monica would rather see it on a different light, with a broader meaning – the moment when you simply know, even if you still can't quite place it.

Just like now.

She had noticed the young man turning around and walking just the opposite way, clearly avoiding the area where she stood. That had been enough to catch her attention, nothing more. But then he looked back over his shoulder, eyes meeting hers. On that moment, they both understood what came next, and it was almost in synchrony that their feet started moving, giving start to the chase.

"Stop right there! FBI!" Granted, he was faster – but not that much. She still managed to stay close enough to not lose him from sight, and judging by the seemingly random turns he would take, it would be more of a matter of endurance and patience.

So far, the investigation in Seattle had led to nothing but dead ends; forensics wouldn't come up to with any meaningful conclusion, there was not a single witness nor rumors running around, and the local police enforcement seemed to be absolutely unwilling to help.

The closest to a lead she had was some punk who, for some reason still to be found, decided to avoid her at all costs. It could be nothing, but still she felt he would take her somewhere.

And Monica Reyes wasn't one to give up.

[martinekenblog-deactivated20180]

A Maldives Beach Awash in Bioluminescent Phytoplankton Looks Like an Ocean of Stars

[wishyroses]

I need to experience this at some point in my life.

[youkeepmakingteaarchive-blog]

Yeah—Magic…..

[ It sounded even more ridiculous, now that she had a moment to think about it. Scratching her nose idly, she moved in a wholly awkward fashion for a few moments before dropping her hands and scrunching her face up. ]

                  Well.                           Ah—No. No it’s not. Not really. Not technically speaking. Technically speaking it’s more of a poltergeist—Casper, sort of thing, but you generally shouldn’t come right out and say that to people. It causes…well, panic. Among other things.

[singingwithwhales]

Yeah, I— I suppose so. People usually have a hard time dealing with anything extraordinary... But, wait.

               When you say poltergeist, do you mean it's some sort of telekinesis working pretty much in the fashion of what is usually acknowledged as poltergeist activity—

[ There was a brief pause as she tilted her head, watching the young woman with narrowed eyes. Telekinesis wasn't even close to being the oddest thing in her book, but something about people panicking really didn't seem to fit. ]

                                —or are you actually implying you're..?

                                             [ Well, she had seen worse anyway. ]