The Bloop of Cthulhu (Part 2 of 2)
Title: The Bloop of Cthulhu
Fandom: Welcome to Night Vale/Cthulhu Mythos
Author: tikistitch
Rating: Teen
Characters/Pairings: Cecil/Carlos
Warnings: Cursing, sexual situations
Word Count: ~11,000
Summary: Carlos goes to investigate the Night Vale Bloop, but returns with more than he bargained for in the form of an adorable little soul-munching Elder God. Meanwhile, Cecil endlessly contemplates the state of their relationship, and several individuals from Carlos’s past drop by for a visit. This is sort of my weird and twisted version of a kid fic, if the kid in question had green tentacles and god-like powers.
Notes: This is complete fluffy nonsense, as befits the holiday season. Avó is Portuguese for Grandmother, and Avô is the word for Grandfather. More notes at the end.
“No, Carlos, it will be lovely. Josie’s angels have already agreed to Elder God-sit for us.” Cecil looked over to where the vermillion angel, Kokabiel and little Bloop were gathered around his television set. Kokabiel was trying to cut into the plastic shell of Grand Theft Tentacles: the Great Void, the educational software program the angels had obtained for him, but it was proving beyond the capabilities of the combined efforts of the angels. “I think I’ve heard you can use a can opener!” Cecil called to them.
“My grandparents are really looking forward to talking to you,” Carlos told him. “I hope you won’t be too bored. It will be us and Prof. Angell, so you’ll have to contend with a room full of scientists.”
“Now, Carlos, you know I am very into science these days,” Cecil assured him. “By the way, how is Prof. Angell?”
“I think that the Br- I mean, that monument, made quite an impression on him!”
“You mean … THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE?” asked Cecil mischievously. As the ground beneath Night Vale tremble, he heard Carlos yelp on his end of the phone, and something crashed.
“You don’t need to do that,” grumbled Carlos when he finally got back on the line.
“Yes I do,” giggled Cecil. “Anyway, we ran into some of the Esoteric Order of Dagon practicing one of their arcane rituals. They evidently believe the Elder God is fated to rise there and devour their souls. Your Prof. Angell got a little overwrought at it all. I thought he would have already been a bit bored by human sacrifice and orgiastic dancing.”
“He’s currently under heavy sedation. Fortunately, my grandparents packed along some potent tranquilizers. My Avô Omar has always had a great interest in experimental psychopharmacology.”
“Well, that’s fortunate!” Cecil cringed as there was the sound of a giant explosion on the other end of the phone. “Are they still doing their gravitational experiments?”
“No, that’s Avó Maria’s cinnabar soufflé.” Cecil suddenly heard the sound of cursing in Portuguese. “I’ve told her time and again that mercury is tricky to work with in my stove. Although it has a very appealing refractive index!”
“Well, I’ll leave you to that. Can I bring anything?” Cecil’s mind strayed to flowers - there were some peonies that reminded him of Carlos’s eyes - or a bottle of wine.
“Do you have any rare earth elements? Maybe some yttrium? We’re in need of some superconductors.”
“Uhhhh, I’ll see what I have in the pantry.” Cecil ended the phone call. Probably a jaunt to Ralphs would be in order!
Carlos’s kitchen looked something like a cross between the aftermath of the Hindenburg disaster and a nursery school finger-painting session. There were footprints on the ceiling, and something that resembled radiation burns all over the refrigerator.
But the food was utterly delicious.
Carlos’s grandparents brought dish after dish after dish of their hometown specialties to the table as Carlos and Cecil ate and drank wine and ate some more, and Prof. Angel sat clutching his recording device to his chest and quietly drooled, his eyes fixed somewhere in the mid-distance.
“Try some more of the half-life potatoes,” urged Maria.
“I am really stuffed,” said Cecil, holding his tummy, which had begun to glow a faint green. He was wearing his new Krebs Cycle sweater vest which Carlos’s grandmother had knitted for him.
“Nonsense. You’re too thin! Carlos, he’s far too thin.”
“He looks just perfect to me,” said Carlos, putting a hand on Cecil’s knee. Cecil sighed.
“So, Cecil, are you a scientist too?” asked Omar, sitting back and letting out the belt in his lab coat another notch.
“He’s more of a science educator, aren’t you, Cecil?” said Maria. “Weren’t you telling me about the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner?”
“Well…” Cecil demurred.
Carlos suddenly sat up straighter. “Avô. Avó. Cecil not a scientist. He is a community radio personality.”
“Ooooo!” said his grandparents.
Carlos interlaced his hand with Cecil's. “I- I hadn’t told the family yet, but…”
“Omar, he’s a celebrity!” said Maria, clapping delightedly. “Our little Carlos is dating a celebrity!”
“I never thought I'd see the day!” declared Omar.
“You think- You think it will be all right with my parents?” asked Carlos, the nervousness showing on his face.
“About damned time someone married outside the tribe,” said Omar. “We have nothing to talk about at family gatherings! Just, 'Hey, violated any laws of physics lately?'”
“You intend to expose the children to the ways of science?” asked Maria.
Carlos blushed deeply, tightening his grip Cecil's hand. “Well, uh, we haven't discussed that yet.”
“I'm already knitting some little test tube holders!” warned Maria.
Cecil sat back, sipping Madeira, and grinning from ear to ear. Between the wine and the food he had lost track of all the Significant Relationship Milestones they had passed tonight, but he was pretty sure it would be at least a good half dozen.
“Speaking of which,” said Carlos, “Cecil, I'm so sorry I left you to deal with, er, Bloop.”
“He's been just fine,” said Cecil. “I was about the call the sitters to see how they're doing.” To be honest, Cecil thought his apartment was probably neat as a pin compared to the disaster zone at Carlos's house.
“Carlos, why don't you go pay that young one a visit?” asked Omar.
“Well, there's clean up,” said Carlos.
“Oh, we can clean up here, miho. And it will be good for Prof Angell to get a little exercise.”
“Blaaarrrgh,” opined Prof. Angell.
Cecil looked at Carlos, who smiled. And, that was how, some minutes later, they ended up across town, in the middle of Cecil's apartment.
Sadly, however, Cecil's picture of an environment filled with culturally appropriate entertainment and nourishing, fair trade food was quashed the instant the opened the door. The coffee table was piled with a veritable mountain (if Cecil had believed in mountains) of pizza boxes, and an assortment of angels, former angels and elder gods were all parked on the floor in front of the television playing some kind of first-person shooter video game that featured rather a lot of green blood being splashed here and there.
“Cecil!” Carlos had declared, flourishing the game's plastic box, which featured a busty blonde being borne away by some kind of kraken-appearing monster wielding an automatic weapon. “I don't want Bloop exposed to this kind of material! It's not culturally appropriate!”
“You assured me Grand Theft Tentacles: the Great Void was educational software,” Cecil told Kokabiel.
The de-ascended celestial being shrugged. “Hey, I told you from the get go I was fallen.”
“That's stereotyping!” said Carlos.
“And what's his excuse?” asked Cecil, pointing to the vermillion angel, who hummed in an apologetic manner.
“Hey, you know how boring it is being a divine messenger day to day?” said Kokabiel. “Sometimes you just wanna blow up stuff!”
Cecil looked down at a tug on his pant leg. Bloop was staring up at him, all eight eyes wide as little round black holes. “Now, now, it's not your fault!” he soothed. “You know we don't want you out carjacking and going on joy rides. You're supposed to be concentrating on eating the souls of your worshippers!”
Bloop suddenly made an extra happy “Bloop!” and slithered off. He returned with one of his Cat Ballou action figures from the box of Flaky-Os. He held it up and glared at it. Suddenly, the stiff plastic figure sagged.
Cecil and Carlos exchanged a glance.
“Did you just eat the soul of that plastic action figure? Did you?” asked Cecil.
“He just devoured his first acolyte soul!” chimed in Carlos.
“That's pretty precocious,” said Kokabiel. The vermilion angel hummed in agreement.
Later, while the angels cleaned up pizza crusts, Carlos walked Cecil out to his car. “Cecil,” said Carlos, “I have something to tell you.”
Cecil stood in the driveway, car keys in hand. “What's the matter?” He could tell by Carlos's troubled expression that it was not good news.
“Prof. Angell told me that they're not going to approve my grant proposal. I'm not going to be able to stay in Night Vale, Cecil.”
Cecil leaned back against the side of his minivan. “Oh?” was all he could come up with.
“I might- I might have to take that assistant professorship at the University of Woollagaronga.”
“That's- That's too bad.” Cecil's mind reeled. And the evening had been going so well! He had impressed Carlos's relatives, and their little Elder God had just devoured its first souls. Relationship milestones had been falling like so many dominoes! He felt his heart was breaking. He really should have taken it out of his chest and deep-fried it the last time the Night Vale AMA urged him to do so.
Carlos put a hand on Cecil's cheek. “Don’t be sad, Cecil. You know, it might not be so bad! I'm sure they have community radio down there as well! You'd be able to find something. I'm sure of it!”
Cecil peered up at Carlos, carefully parsing his words. “Wait. You expect me to go with you?”
“I can't have a home if it's without you, can I?” said the scientist, quietly. “I mean, how could we bring up our little scientists if we're living on different continents?” Carlos leaned closer and finished this line of inquiry with a tender kiss.
Cecil's heart fluttered like a death's head moth. For a second. “Wait,” he said again. “So Woollagaronga is on a different continent?” Carlos nodded. “How far away is this place?”
“Far,” laughed Carlos.
Cecil frowned. “But I'm not sure I even want to leave Night Vale.”
“Well, then I suppose I can see if the Moon Lite All Nite Diner is looking for help!” said Carlos, twining his arms around Cecil.
“You'd give up science? For me?”
“A minute ago you were set to go to Woollagaronga, and you evidently didn't even know where it is!”
“True. Geography class was never my strong point at Night Vale High. Look Carlos, I don't know how, but we'll find a way. We'll stay in Night Vale, both of us, and you'll continue to do your work. And … and we'll give your grandmother an excuse to knit many test tube cosies!”
Carlos grinned and made to kiss Cecil again, but then the earth moved, but not in that pleasant, metaphorical sense: it literally shook, sending Cecil and Carlos stumbling. “Was that an earthquake?” asked Cecil.
“Have you been talking about the Br- … that tower again, Cecil?” asked Carlos, sounding suspicious.
“No!”
“Then it may be an earthquake. But Night Vale is nowhere near any fault line!”
“That wasn't an earthquake,” said Kokabiel. He had just come outside along with the vermillion angel, who was holding Bloop.
“What was it?” asked Cecil.
Kokabiel nodded at Bloop. “It was this one's mommy. Or daddy. It's actually kind of hard to tell with that lot.” The vermillion angel hummed in agreement.
“We’ve got to get Bloop back to him. Or her,” said Carlos.
“I think ‘xe’ is the operative gender-neutral pronoun,” said Cecil. “We don’t want to cast judgments on anybody’s life choices!”
Carlos nodded. “Anyway, I should take Bloop and make for the cavern.”
“I don’t think it’s coming to the cavern, Carlos.”
“What do you mean?”
“THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE,” said Cecil, and once again, the ground underneath their feet shook.
“Do you really think that, or do you just like saying it?” grumbled Carlos, who had literally been knocked on his ass.
“That would make sense,” said Kokabiel. “That area is a focus for paranormal activity in this town.”
“Oh, what does that even mean?” grumbled Carlos. “You don’t have any evidence for that!”
“Carlos,” said Cecil softly. “May I remind you, dear, you are currently talking to a fallen angel about a rising Elder God.”
“All right, all right,” the scientist conceded. “Let’s get Bloop and go to … that place.”
“THE BR-“ started Cecil, but Carlos grabbed him and kissed him.
“Please, dear. My posterior is sore from being knocked over,” Carlos pleaded.
“I like the shaking,” grinned Cecil.
“I’ll show you some shaking later,” whispered Carlos. “Promise.”
“Ooooo!” said Kokabiel, as the vermillion angel hooted as suggestively as an angel was able.
“Let’s get Bloop folded into his car seat, shall we?” said Cecil.
After they had piled everyone into Cecil’s minivan, Cecil stepped on the gas and they roared down Highway 800 towards the Brownstone Spire. As they traveled, the shaking continued, and seemed to grow worse and worse.
They arrived to find a small crowd had already gathered, including the members of the Esoteric Order of Dagon, all in their ceremonial robes and ill-fitting tiaras. There were also assorted patrons from the Moon Lite All Nite Diner, which was right across the highway (although you had to dodge oncoming traffic, as there was no overpass, and the drawbridge was out of order), finishing their coffee and reading the Night Vale Daily Journal. A drill team and marching band from Night Vale High was present, and so were several hooded figures, although we do not speak about them. And lastly, Carlos’s grandparents, who had taken their rental car, were there. They were sitting, along with Prof. Angell, on a set of collapsible folding chairs.
“We calculated this to be the epicenter of the geological disruption,” said Omar, who sported a hat that resembled an umbrella. “Maria wanted to film it for our yearly travel slide show.”
At this point, the esoteric Order of Dagon began to sing their strange, otherworldly chant, backed up by members of the NVH marching band:
Most folk fell the gotta … run away
They gotta … get away
From the madness-inducing glance of you
You make them feel
That the faceless void is real
And you want acolytes to pray
So we say yay we gonna pray that way
Tried to run from you
And your tentacle goo
Hey Elder God we’re giving…
Eat our souls and then go lick the spoon
Elder God! Oh-oh, Elder God!
Now we know even if we … run away
We’ll never … get away
From you inter-dimensional space beings
To make us right
Just sample one bite
Our souls are rich and delicious
And soon we wish we’ll make great dishes
Time to manifest
On this planet’s crust
Whoa Elder God you listen
Can’t wait to see your mutated skin all glisten
Elder God! Oh-oh, Elder God.
Bite me, Cthulu
Come on it’s time to chew!
There was hearty applause from the gathered crowd, and then the bass drummer from NVH dropped his drumsticks, which was a clear signal in any universe to get on with it already!
The ground trembled. The ground shook. The ground did just about everything but stand the heck still.
The Brownstone Spire began to crack.
“Oh no. They’re going to have to spackle over that,” said Cecil, who liked to preserve public monuments.
And then, the moment they’d all been waiting for, the giant Elder God appeared! It looked somewhat like a really, really, really big green octopus.
And somewhat not.
At first, in a moment of misunderstanding, it devoured the souls of a few diners from the Moon Lite All Nite Diner. But after some grumbling from the Esoteric Order of Dagon (who had gotten all dressed up and even did a really nice chant) it got down to business and began to nibble on the souls of its worshippers.
“Well, Bloop,” Cecil told their small charge. “I suppose it’s time.”
“Remember what we’ve taught you,” said Carlos. “Try and be carbon-neutral when you’re devouring souls.”
“And cultural appropriation is never a good idea!” added Cecil.
“Bloop!” Bloop told them. He began to slither away, but then immediately turned around and wriggled back. Carlos bent down and picked him up, and he reached out his little green tentacles and embraced both Carlos and Cecil in a warm, gooey hug.
And then he slithered away to greet his parent, still wearing his little Tinker Toy crown, and carrying a Flaky-Os action figure. There was a tearful reunion. And then, waving his little tentacles at a teary-eyed Cecil and Carlos, Bloop disappeared once again under the ground with his parent, leaving only a vast death toll and millions in property damage to remind them of him.
“May I borrow one of your cameras, Avó?” Carlos asked his grandmother. “I’d like to document the crater for my next paper.” Maria handed him the SLR around her neck, and Carlos dashed off to take some photographs.
“He’ll never get that paper published, if I have anything to say about it,” grumbled Prof. Angell, who had begun to come around to his grumpy self as the tranquilizers had worn off.
“By the way, Angell,” said Omar. “Our grandson, Carlos, would like to submit a new grant proposal.” Maria held up her camera, and displayed the tape she had just filmed.
“Very clever use of cinematography,” said Cecil approvingly as Maria grinned.
“That isn’t a grant proposal,” Angell told them. “You can’t just submit a video. There are procedures!”
“Maria and I are both on the study section for Carlos’s grant proposal. As are his aunt, two uncles, and several of his cousins.”
Angell searched their faces. “But- But, that’s nepotism!”
“It sure as heck is,” sighed Omar, putting an arm around Maria’s shoulders. “You, sir, have an admirable grasp of the English language. Maybe you wanna go get a professorship of literature instead? Because you don’t screw with los Cientistas!”
“You won’t get away with this!” Angell vowed.
“Actually , we probably will,” said Omar. “We’re all terribly good-looking in my family, and as you know, studies show that people tend to favor attractive people over unattractive people.”
Angell pointed a stony glare at them, and then shambled off. “But don’t you want the covalent bond scarf I knitted for you?” Maria called after him.
“Omar, Maria,” said Cecil. “You folks are actually aware of how beautiful you all are?”
Omar and Maria shared a smile. “Of course,” Omar told Cecil. “We’re scientists, but we’re not stupid!”
“So, Carlos knows he’s really gorgeous?”
“Carlos?” asked Omar.
“Well, probably not, now that you mention it,” chuckled Maria.
“The boy has always been a little other-worldly,” said Omar. “But that’s all right. Looks are fleeting! Well, except in our family, since we’re all preternaturally good-looking.” He glanced at Maria, and they both grinned. “We were always hoping that he’d find someone who accepted him for the important things, like his integrity, his great commitment to scientific inquiry, and his really amazing ass.”
“What?” blurted Cecil.
“It’s his Tio Nicolai’s ass,” Maria confessed.
“Does he want it back?” asked Cecil. He hoped not!
“What are we talking about?” asked Carlos, who had picked just this moment to stroll up and put his arm around Cecil. “Cecil, are you all right?”
Cecil blushed.
Carlos pressed the photograph of Cecil and himself getting a gooey hug from Bloop into the frame and then placed it carefully up on his hearth. He leaned the somewhat floppy soulless Cat Ballou action figure against it and stepped back to admire his work.
Cecil came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Carlos's waist, kissing his neck. “I didn't realize you wanted children,” whispered Cecil.
“You don't?”
Cecil grinned. “I want a veritable army of them.”
“An army? Literally?” asked Carlos, arching an eyebrow.
But Cecil only chuckled. He stepped back. “Did your grandparents get back home safely?”
“Yes. I find I miss having them around, although it was admittedly a little disruptive. And we need to see about getting you a formal lab coat. If we don't get to Cousin Oppenheimer's wedding, I'll never hear the end of it!”
Cecil grinned. A wedding date! It was an important relationship milestone. He idly speculated on how many of Carlos’s relatives he would need to knock over in order to catch the bridal bouquet. “By the way, what's the deal with you and Cousin Oppenheimer?”
Carlos sighed and rolled his eyes. “It's a long story.”
“I've got time,” said Cecil, looking at his watch. “What say we grab some Big Rico's for dinner?”
“All right, that sounds good.”
“And it's a nice day! We could take it somewhere to eat outside.”
“Like the park?” asked Carlos.
Cecil smiled mischievously. “Well, no. I was thinking they have a really great picnic area at … the Br-”
“No!” exclaimed Carlos. He lunged for Cecil, who barely ducked him, and then gave chase until he finally had Cecil backed up against his specially retrofitted kitchen table.
“I said the Br-”
“Don't. Say. It,” said Carlos, placing two fingers on Cecil's lips.
“How are you planning on stopping me?” asked Cecil. Carlos stared into his eyes, and then began to kiss Cecil. He grabbed Cecil's hips and lifted him up onto the dining room table. Cecil wrapped his legs around Carlos's waist as they continued kissing.
“Are you really hungry?” whispered Carlos.
“Mmmm,” said Cecil, who was tugging at Carlos's belt. “But maybe not for pizza just now.”
“We need to keep your mouth busy,” said Cecil.
“Why?” teased Cecil.
“So you won't say it.”
“Say what?”
“You know.”
“You mean-”
“CECIL!”
And all throughout Night Vale, the earth shook.
But in a good kind of way.
Notes: This fic was partly based on Cecil Baldwin’s comment that he pictures Carlos the Scientist as a “Brazilian male model” who wears “chunky glasses.” I’ve therefore made Carlos’s family a bunch of impossibly good-looking Brazilian scientists. The quote about science is of course from Neil deGrasse Tyson. I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention the Li'l Cthulhu video, http://youtu.be/FOHJUrcVdJk which is just cute as a non-Euclidean button. There really is a phenomenon known as “The Bloop.” It’s probably just glaciers calving though, although it’s suspiciously near where Lovecraft placed Cthulhu’s lost island. Maria Sklodowska is Marie Curie's maiden name: if you don't know who Marie Curie is, you need to reevaluate your life choices. The Esoteric Order of Dagon’s songs ware based on She Blinded Me with Science and Tainted Love.
Fandom: Welcome to Night Vale/Cthulhu Mythos
Author: tikistitch
Rating: Teen
Characters/Pairings: Cecil/Carlos
Warnings: Cursing, sexual situations
Word Count: ~11,000
Summary: Carlos goes to investigate the Night Vale Bloop, but returns with more than he bargained for in the form of an adorable little soul-munching Elder God. Meanwhile, Cecil endlessly contemplates the state of their relationship, and several individuals from Carlos’s past drop by for a visit. This is sort of my weird and twisted version of a kid fic, if the kid in question had green tentacles and god-like powers.
Notes: This is complete fluffy nonsense, as befits the holiday season. Avó is Portuguese for Grandmother, and Avô is the word for Grandfather. More notes at the end.
“No, Carlos, it will be lovely. Josie’s angels have already agreed to Elder God-sit for us.” Cecil looked over to where the vermillion angel, Kokabiel and little Bloop were gathered around his television set. Kokabiel was trying to cut into the plastic shell of Grand Theft Tentacles: the Great Void, the educational software program the angels had obtained for him, but it was proving beyond the capabilities of the combined efforts of the angels. “I think I’ve heard you can use a can opener!” Cecil called to them.
“My grandparents are really looking forward to talking to you,” Carlos told him. “I hope you won’t be too bored. It will be us and Prof. Angell, so you’ll have to contend with a room full of scientists.”
“Now, Carlos, you know I am very into science these days,” Cecil assured him. “By the way, how is Prof. Angell?”
“I think that the Br- I mean, that monument, made quite an impression on him!”
“You mean … THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE?” asked Cecil mischievously. As the ground beneath Night Vale tremble, he heard Carlos yelp on his end of the phone, and something crashed.
“You don’t need to do that,” grumbled Carlos when he finally got back on the line.
“Yes I do,” giggled Cecil. “Anyway, we ran into some of the Esoteric Order of Dagon practicing one of their arcane rituals. They evidently believe the Elder God is fated to rise there and devour their souls. Your Prof. Angell got a little overwrought at it all. I thought he would have already been a bit bored by human sacrifice and orgiastic dancing.”
“He’s currently under heavy sedation. Fortunately, my grandparents packed along some potent tranquilizers. My Avô Omar has always had a great interest in experimental psychopharmacology.”
“Well, that’s fortunate!” Cecil cringed as there was the sound of a giant explosion on the other end of the phone. “Are they still doing their gravitational experiments?”
“No, that’s Avó Maria’s cinnabar soufflé.” Cecil suddenly heard the sound of cursing in Portuguese. “I’ve told her time and again that mercury is tricky to work with in my stove. Although it has a very appealing refractive index!”
“Well, I’ll leave you to that. Can I bring anything?” Cecil’s mind strayed to flowers - there were some peonies that reminded him of Carlos’s eyes - or a bottle of wine.
“Do you have any rare earth elements? Maybe some yttrium? We’re in need of some superconductors.”
“Uhhhh, I’ll see what I have in the pantry.” Cecil ended the phone call. Probably a jaunt to Ralphs would be in order!
Carlos’s kitchen looked something like a cross between the aftermath of the Hindenburg disaster and a nursery school finger-painting session. There were footprints on the ceiling, and something that resembled radiation burns all over the refrigerator.
But the food was utterly delicious.
Carlos’s grandparents brought dish after dish after dish of their hometown specialties to the table as Carlos and Cecil ate and drank wine and ate some more, and Prof. Angel sat clutching his recording device to his chest and quietly drooled, his eyes fixed somewhere in the mid-distance.
“Try some more of the half-life potatoes,” urged Maria.
“I am really stuffed,” said Cecil, holding his tummy, which had begun to glow a faint green. He was wearing his new Krebs Cycle sweater vest which Carlos’s grandmother had knitted for him.
“Nonsense. You’re too thin! Carlos, he’s far too thin.”
“He looks just perfect to me,” said Carlos, putting a hand on Cecil’s knee. Cecil sighed.
“So, Cecil, are you a scientist too?” asked Omar, sitting back and letting out the belt in his lab coat another notch.
“He’s more of a science educator, aren’t you, Cecil?” said Maria. “Weren’t you telling me about the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner?”
“Well…” Cecil demurred.
Carlos suddenly sat up straighter. “Avô. Avó. Cecil not a scientist. He is a community radio personality.”
“Ooooo!” said his grandparents.
Carlos interlaced his hand with Cecil's. “I- I hadn’t told the family yet, but…”
“Omar, he’s a celebrity!” said Maria, clapping delightedly. “Our little Carlos is dating a celebrity!”
“I never thought I'd see the day!” declared Omar.
“You think- You think it will be all right with my parents?” asked Carlos, the nervousness showing on his face.
“About damned time someone married outside the tribe,” said Omar. “We have nothing to talk about at family gatherings! Just, 'Hey, violated any laws of physics lately?'”
“You intend to expose the children to the ways of science?” asked Maria.
Carlos blushed deeply, tightening his grip Cecil's hand. “Well, uh, we haven't discussed that yet.”
“I'm already knitting some little test tube holders!” warned Maria.
Cecil sat back, sipping Madeira, and grinning from ear to ear. Between the wine and the food he had lost track of all the Significant Relationship Milestones they had passed tonight, but he was pretty sure it would be at least a good half dozen.
“Speaking of which,” said Carlos, “Cecil, I'm so sorry I left you to deal with, er, Bloop.”
“He's been just fine,” said Cecil. “I was about the call the sitters to see how they're doing.” To be honest, Cecil thought his apartment was probably neat as a pin compared to the disaster zone at Carlos's house.
“Carlos, why don't you go pay that young one a visit?” asked Omar.
“Well, there's clean up,” said Carlos.
“Oh, we can clean up here, miho. And it will be good for Prof Angell to get a little exercise.”
“Blaaarrrgh,” opined Prof. Angell.
Cecil looked at Carlos, who smiled. And, that was how, some minutes later, they ended up across town, in the middle of Cecil's apartment.
Sadly, however, Cecil's picture of an environment filled with culturally appropriate entertainment and nourishing, fair trade food was quashed the instant the opened the door. The coffee table was piled with a veritable mountain (if Cecil had believed in mountains) of pizza boxes, and an assortment of angels, former angels and elder gods were all parked on the floor in front of the television playing some kind of first-person shooter video game that featured rather a lot of green blood being splashed here and there.
“Cecil!” Carlos had declared, flourishing the game's plastic box, which featured a busty blonde being borne away by some kind of kraken-appearing monster wielding an automatic weapon. “I don't want Bloop exposed to this kind of material! It's not culturally appropriate!”
“You assured me Grand Theft Tentacles: the Great Void was educational software,” Cecil told Kokabiel.
The de-ascended celestial being shrugged. “Hey, I told you from the get go I was fallen.”
“That's stereotyping!” said Carlos.
“And what's his excuse?” asked Cecil, pointing to the vermillion angel, who hummed in an apologetic manner.
“Hey, you know how boring it is being a divine messenger day to day?” said Kokabiel. “Sometimes you just wanna blow up stuff!”
Cecil looked down at a tug on his pant leg. Bloop was staring up at him, all eight eyes wide as little round black holes. “Now, now, it's not your fault!” he soothed. “You know we don't want you out carjacking and going on joy rides. You're supposed to be concentrating on eating the souls of your worshippers!”
Bloop suddenly made an extra happy “Bloop!” and slithered off. He returned with one of his Cat Ballou action figures from the box of Flaky-Os. He held it up and glared at it. Suddenly, the stiff plastic figure sagged.
Cecil and Carlos exchanged a glance.
“Did you just eat the soul of that plastic action figure? Did you?” asked Cecil.
“He just devoured his first acolyte soul!” chimed in Carlos.
“That's pretty precocious,” said Kokabiel. The vermilion angel hummed in agreement.
Later, while the angels cleaned up pizza crusts, Carlos walked Cecil out to his car. “Cecil,” said Carlos, “I have something to tell you.”
Cecil stood in the driveway, car keys in hand. “What's the matter?” He could tell by Carlos's troubled expression that it was not good news.
“Prof. Angell told me that they're not going to approve my grant proposal. I'm not going to be able to stay in Night Vale, Cecil.”
Cecil leaned back against the side of his minivan. “Oh?” was all he could come up with.
“I might- I might have to take that assistant professorship at the University of Woollagaronga.”
“That's- That's too bad.” Cecil's mind reeled. And the evening had been going so well! He had impressed Carlos's relatives, and their little Elder God had just devoured its first souls. Relationship milestones had been falling like so many dominoes! He felt his heart was breaking. He really should have taken it out of his chest and deep-fried it the last time the Night Vale AMA urged him to do so.
Carlos put a hand on Cecil's cheek. “Don’t be sad, Cecil. You know, it might not be so bad! I'm sure they have community radio down there as well! You'd be able to find something. I'm sure of it!”
Cecil peered up at Carlos, carefully parsing his words. “Wait. You expect me to go with you?”
“I can't have a home if it's without you, can I?” said the scientist, quietly. “I mean, how could we bring up our little scientists if we're living on different continents?” Carlos leaned closer and finished this line of inquiry with a tender kiss.
Cecil's heart fluttered like a death's head moth. For a second. “Wait,” he said again. “So Woollagaronga is on a different continent?” Carlos nodded. “How far away is this place?”
“Far,” laughed Carlos.
Cecil frowned. “But I'm not sure I even want to leave Night Vale.”
“Well, then I suppose I can see if the Moon Lite All Nite Diner is looking for help!” said Carlos, twining his arms around Cecil.
“You'd give up science? For me?”
“A minute ago you were set to go to Woollagaronga, and you evidently didn't even know where it is!”
“True. Geography class was never my strong point at Night Vale High. Look Carlos, I don't know how, but we'll find a way. We'll stay in Night Vale, both of us, and you'll continue to do your work. And … and we'll give your grandmother an excuse to knit many test tube cosies!”
Carlos grinned and made to kiss Cecil again, but then the earth moved, but not in that pleasant, metaphorical sense: it literally shook, sending Cecil and Carlos stumbling. “Was that an earthquake?” asked Cecil.
“Have you been talking about the Br- … that tower again, Cecil?” asked Carlos, sounding suspicious.
“No!”
“Then it may be an earthquake. But Night Vale is nowhere near any fault line!”
“That wasn't an earthquake,” said Kokabiel. He had just come outside along with the vermillion angel, who was holding Bloop.
“What was it?” asked Cecil.
Kokabiel nodded at Bloop. “It was this one's mommy. Or daddy. It's actually kind of hard to tell with that lot.” The vermillion angel hummed in agreement.
“We’ve got to get Bloop back to him. Or her,” said Carlos.
“I think ‘xe’ is the operative gender-neutral pronoun,” said Cecil. “We don’t want to cast judgments on anybody’s life choices!”
Carlos nodded. “Anyway, I should take Bloop and make for the cavern.”
“I don’t think it’s coming to the cavern, Carlos.”
“What do you mean?”
“THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE,” said Cecil, and once again, the ground underneath their feet shook.
“Do you really think that, or do you just like saying it?” grumbled Carlos, who had literally been knocked on his ass.
“That would make sense,” said Kokabiel. “That area is a focus for paranormal activity in this town.”
“Oh, what does that even mean?” grumbled Carlos. “You don’t have any evidence for that!”
“Carlos,” said Cecil softly. “May I remind you, dear, you are currently talking to a fallen angel about a rising Elder God.”
“All right, all right,” the scientist conceded. “Let’s get Bloop and go to … that place.”
“THE BR-“ started Cecil, but Carlos grabbed him and kissed him.
“Please, dear. My posterior is sore from being knocked over,” Carlos pleaded.
“I like the shaking,” grinned Cecil.
“I’ll show you some shaking later,” whispered Carlos. “Promise.”
“Ooooo!” said Kokabiel, as the vermillion angel hooted as suggestively as an angel was able.
“Let’s get Bloop folded into his car seat, shall we?” said Cecil.
After they had piled everyone into Cecil’s minivan, Cecil stepped on the gas and they roared down Highway 800 towards the Brownstone Spire. As they traveled, the shaking continued, and seemed to grow worse and worse.
They arrived to find a small crowd had already gathered, including the members of the Esoteric Order of Dagon, all in their ceremonial robes and ill-fitting tiaras. There were also assorted patrons from the Moon Lite All Nite Diner, which was right across the highway (although you had to dodge oncoming traffic, as there was no overpass, and the drawbridge was out of order), finishing their coffee and reading the Night Vale Daily Journal. A drill team and marching band from Night Vale High was present, and so were several hooded figures, although we do not speak about them. And lastly, Carlos’s grandparents, who had taken their rental car, were there. They were sitting, along with Prof. Angell, on a set of collapsible folding chairs.
“We calculated this to be the epicenter of the geological disruption,” said Omar, who sported a hat that resembled an umbrella. “Maria wanted to film it for our yearly travel slide show.”
At this point, the esoteric Order of Dagon began to sing their strange, otherworldly chant, backed up by members of the NVH marching band:
Most folk fell the gotta … run away
They gotta … get away
From the madness-inducing glance of you
You make them feel
That the faceless void is real
And you want acolytes to pray
So we say yay we gonna pray that way
Tried to run from you
And your tentacle goo
Hey Elder God we’re giving…
Eat our souls and then go lick the spoon
Elder God! Oh-oh, Elder God!
Now we know even if we … run away
We’ll never … get away
From you inter-dimensional space beings
To make us right
Just sample one bite
Our souls are rich and delicious
And soon we wish we’ll make great dishes
Time to manifest
On this planet’s crust
Whoa Elder God you listen
Can’t wait to see your mutated skin all glisten
Elder God! Oh-oh, Elder God.
Bite me, Cthulu
Come on it’s time to chew!
There was hearty applause from the gathered crowd, and then the bass drummer from NVH dropped his drumsticks, which was a clear signal in any universe to get on with it already!
The ground trembled. The ground shook. The ground did just about everything but stand the heck still.
The Brownstone Spire began to crack.
“Oh no. They’re going to have to spackle over that,” said Cecil, who liked to preserve public monuments.
And then, the moment they’d all been waiting for, the giant Elder God appeared! It looked somewhat like a really, really, really big green octopus.
And somewhat not.
At first, in a moment of misunderstanding, it devoured the souls of a few diners from the Moon Lite All Nite Diner. But after some grumbling from the Esoteric Order of Dagon (who had gotten all dressed up and even did a really nice chant) it got down to business and began to nibble on the souls of its worshippers.
“Well, Bloop,” Cecil told their small charge. “I suppose it’s time.”
“Remember what we’ve taught you,” said Carlos. “Try and be carbon-neutral when you’re devouring souls.”
“And cultural appropriation is never a good idea!” added Cecil.
“Bloop!” Bloop told them. He began to slither away, but then immediately turned around and wriggled back. Carlos bent down and picked him up, and he reached out his little green tentacles and embraced both Carlos and Cecil in a warm, gooey hug.
And then he slithered away to greet his parent, still wearing his little Tinker Toy crown, and carrying a Flaky-Os action figure. There was a tearful reunion. And then, waving his little tentacles at a teary-eyed Cecil and Carlos, Bloop disappeared once again under the ground with his parent, leaving only a vast death toll and millions in property damage to remind them of him.
“May I borrow one of your cameras, Avó?” Carlos asked his grandmother. “I’d like to document the crater for my next paper.” Maria handed him the SLR around her neck, and Carlos dashed off to take some photographs.
“He’ll never get that paper published, if I have anything to say about it,” grumbled Prof. Angell, who had begun to come around to his grumpy self as the tranquilizers had worn off.
“By the way, Angell,” said Omar. “Our grandson, Carlos, would like to submit a new grant proposal.” Maria held up her camera, and displayed the tape she had just filmed.
“Very clever use of cinematography,” said Cecil approvingly as Maria grinned.
“That isn’t a grant proposal,” Angell told them. “You can’t just submit a video. There are procedures!”
“Maria and I are both on the study section for Carlos’s grant proposal. As are his aunt, two uncles, and several of his cousins.”
Angell searched their faces. “But- But, that’s nepotism!”
“It sure as heck is,” sighed Omar, putting an arm around Maria’s shoulders. “You, sir, have an admirable grasp of the English language. Maybe you wanna go get a professorship of literature instead? Because you don’t screw with los Cientistas!”
“You won’t get away with this!” Angell vowed.
“Actually , we probably will,” said Omar. “We’re all terribly good-looking in my family, and as you know, studies show that people tend to favor attractive people over unattractive people.”
Angell pointed a stony glare at them, and then shambled off. “But don’t you want the covalent bond scarf I knitted for you?” Maria called after him.
“Omar, Maria,” said Cecil. “You folks are actually aware of how beautiful you all are?”
Omar and Maria shared a smile. “Of course,” Omar told Cecil. “We’re scientists, but we’re not stupid!”
“So, Carlos knows he’s really gorgeous?”
“Carlos?” asked Omar.
“Well, probably not, now that you mention it,” chuckled Maria.
“The boy has always been a little other-worldly,” said Omar. “But that’s all right. Looks are fleeting! Well, except in our family, since we’re all preternaturally good-looking.” He glanced at Maria, and they both grinned. “We were always hoping that he’d find someone who accepted him for the important things, like his integrity, his great commitment to scientific inquiry, and his really amazing ass.”
“What?” blurted Cecil.
“It’s his Tio Nicolai’s ass,” Maria confessed.
“Does he want it back?” asked Cecil. He hoped not!
“What are we talking about?” asked Carlos, who had picked just this moment to stroll up and put his arm around Cecil. “Cecil, are you all right?”
Cecil blushed.
Carlos pressed the photograph of Cecil and himself getting a gooey hug from Bloop into the frame and then placed it carefully up on his hearth. He leaned the somewhat floppy soulless Cat Ballou action figure against it and stepped back to admire his work.
Cecil came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Carlos's waist, kissing his neck. “I didn't realize you wanted children,” whispered Cecil.
“You don't?”
Cecil grinned. “I want a veritable army of them.”
“An army? Literally?” asked Carlos, arching an eyebrow.
But Cecil only chuckled. He stepped back. “Did your grandparents get back home safely?”
“Yes. I find I miss having them around, although it was admittedly a little disruptive. And we need to see about getting you a formal lab coat. If we don't get to Cousin Oppenheimer's wedding, I'll never hear the end of it!”
Cecil grinned. A wedding date! It was an important relationship milestone. He idly speculated on how many of Carlos’s relatives he would need to knock over in order to catch the bridal bouquet. “By the way, what's the deal with you and Cousin Oppenheimer?”
Carlos sighed and rolled his eyes. “It's a long story.”
“I've got time,” said Cecil, looking at his watch. “What say we grab some Big Rico's for dinner?”
“All right, that sounds good.”
“And it's a nice day! We could take it somewhere to eat outside.”
“Like the park?” asked Carlos.
Cecil smiled mischievously. “Well, no. I was thinking they have a really great picnic area at … the Br-”
“No!” exclaimed Carlos. He lunged for Cecil, who barely ducked him, and then gave chase until he finally had Cecil backed up against his specially retrofitted kitchen table.
“I said the Br-”
“Don't. Say. It,” said Carlos, placing two fingers on Cecil's lips.
“How are you planning on stopping me?” asked Cecil. Carlos stared into his eyes, and then began to kiss Cecil. He grabbed Cecil's hips and lifted him up onto the dining room table. Cecil wrapped his legs around Carlos's waist as they continued kissing.
“Are you really hungry?” whispered Carlos.
“Mmmm,” said Cecil, who was tugging at Carlos's belt. “But maybe not for pizza just now.”
“We need to keep your mouth busy,” said Cecil.
“Why?” teased Cecil.
“So you won't say it.”
“Say what?”
“You know.”
“You mean-”
“CECIL!”
And all throughout Night Vale, the earth shook.
But in a good kind of way.
Notes: This fic was partly based on Cecil Baldwin’s comment that he pictures Carlos the Scientist as a “Brazilian male model” who wears “chunky glasses.” I’ve therefore made Carlos’s family a bunch of impossibly good-looking Brazilian scientists. The quote about science is of course from Neil deGrasse Tyson. I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention the Li'l Cthulhu video, http://youtu.be/FOHJUrcVdJk which is just cute as a non-Euclidean button. There really is a phenomenon known as “The Bloop.” It’s probably just glaciers calving though, although it’s suspiciously near where Lovecraft placed Cthulhu’s lost island. Maria Sklodowska is Marie Curie's maiden name: if you don't know who Marie Curie is, you need to reevaluate your life choices. The Esoteric Order of Dagon’s songs ware based on She Blinded Me with Science and Tainted Love.