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Carlos woke from a dreamless sleep. He didn’t immediately feel any better. In fact, he was very disappointed that what happened last night hadn’t just been a dream. Dammit…

He started to sit up from his little ‘nest’. But suddenly, Carlos froze with a small yelp when his back ached in protest at the movement. Well, that wasn’t going to go away any time soon. His day was just getting better already. He finished sitting up and started to look for his Pip-Boy. But it wasn’t there.

Oh no… he left it in the Statehouse, didn’t he? He couldn’t go back for it. He wasn’t ready to face Hancock. He… he couldn’t. Hancock would see him and he might want to talk about it and Carlos… he just wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready. Right now, he was willing to leave his Pip-Boy out of his reach because he was just… he was scared. Besides, who said Hancock even wanted to see him after what happened? Carlos didn’t even want to be with himself.

He needed to work. He needed to do something – feel productive. Show that he was still somewhat useful, despite… despite how hard he fell last night. He got up and ignored the twinge of hunger in his stomach as he started to take apart one of the generators he had to work on and clean the parts.

After a while–– Hancock couldn’t be sure how long it really was with the combination of jet and med-x in his system–– the ghoul picked himself up, staggering over to the pantry to dig out a box of sugar bombs and bring it back to the couch. He shed his signature coat again, tossing it carelessly over the back of the couch, along with the vest, and laying back on the cushions to take up his post again. His eyes were blurry, struggling to focus on the stain on the ceiling he’d been staring at and his movements robotic as he slowly picked cereal out of the box, one piece at a time to eat. He’d be there for the foreseeable future, huffing more jet whenever he happened to remember why he’d come in in the first place and picking at his cereal until Carlos came back or he lost consciousness again, whichever came first.

Carlos was starving. How long had he been working? He had no
idea – he was getting a little delirious and he realized he’d been cleaning the
same part for a good thirty minutes. The generator was almost entirely clean so
he’d had to have been there for hours. He needed to eat something and he spent
a good while trying to convince himself to leave.

His caps were still in the Statehouse, so Carlos had to go
back. Just something small, he told himself; maybe a carrot or a single
mutfruit. Just enough to hold him over so he could come back… if he managed to
avoid Hancock. Or if Hancock didn’t even want to see him; that’d be… easier. In
only a couple ways.

Finally Carlos put down the cloth and started for the door.
He built up enough motivation to reach the door and open it without any pause
and he was back out in Goodneighbor. However, he jumped when he noticed a
figure leaning against the wall of the warehouse. Fahrenheit was glaring at him
under the fringe of her hair. Was that a glare? She always looked like she was
glaring.

She didn’t say a word, just looked at him. It took Carlos a
few moments, trying to convince himself the she wasn’t going to hurt him
(despite the look she gave him) and he finally turned away and started walking
down the alley. He felt her gaze heavy and piercing on his back, and when he
reached the stoop he was almost shaking.

Carlos almost jumped inside the Statehouse and he shut the
door behind him. A Neighborhood Watchman shifted his gun when Carlos came in,
but he seemed to relax almost immediately. Carlos looked at his feet and
started up the spiral staircase, trying not to make any more noise than
necessary.

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the-perfect-scientist:

Carlos made it to the workshop without incident. He supposed
everybody knew Hancock’s business was Hancock’s business. Once inside he
gathered up the blankets and some of the work cloths and started to make a sort
of bed in the corner. He’d been meaning to get a cot in there for when he
worked longer nights… he wished he’d done it already, but this would have to
do.

Carlos lay down and curled in on himself underneath his
labcoat. He spent a long time awake, just angry and unhappy with himself. There
were so many things he should have done… He should have done so much better.

Outside he could hear someone shouting. Some drifter being
thrown out of the Third Rail by Ham. Even further away there was gunfire –
probably from the Supermutant encampment. Carlos didn’t know when he fell asleep.

When Hancock woke the next morning, stiff and sore, he was disappointed to find he was still alone. Despite everything, how badly he’d screwed up, how upset Carlos had seemed, a part of him had still expected the other man to return. With a shaky sigh, the ghoul picked himself up of the floor, straightening his clothes out and composing himself enough to walk across the hall without drawing too much attention.

Back in his lounge, Hancock ordered the Watchmen outside not to let anyone but the scientist in then shut the doors behind him. Back in the privacy of his room–– and the bulk of his stash–– the ghoul broke into the chems again, dosing himself with a cocktail of drugs to keep his nerves at bay for a while then taking up a spot on the couch to sit and stare at the ceiling until Carlos came back….. if he came back.

Carlos woke from a dreamless sleep. He didn’t immediately feel any better. In fact, he was very disappointed that what happened last night hadn’t just been a dream. Dammit…

He started to sit up from his little ‘nest’. But suddenly, Carlos froze with a small yelp when his back ached in protest at the movement. Well, that wasn’t going to go away any time soon. His day was just getting better already. He finished sitting up and started to look for his Pip-Boy. But it wasn’t there.

Oh no… he left it in the Statehouse, didn’t he? He couldn’t go back for it. He wasn’t ready to face Hancock. He… he couldn’t. Hancock would see him and he might want to talk about it and Carlos… he just wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready. Right now, he was willing to leave his Pip-Boy out of his reach because he was just… he was scared. Besides, who said Hancock even wanted to see him after what happened? Carlos didn’t even want to be with himself.

He needed to work. He needed to do something – feel productive. Show that he was still somewhat useful, despite… despite how hard he fell last night. He got up and ignored the twinge of hunger in his stomach as he started to take apart one of the generators he had to work on and clean the parts.

selfmedicatingmayor:

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The key wasn’t in the lounge area. Where the hell could it
be? Carlos was getting frustrated as he opened drawers only to find drug paraphernalia.
He was getting frustrated with himself and he coughed, trying to suppress
another fit of sobbing. Carlos sniffed.

This was fine. It would be fine. He could just head to the
attic and find a nice corner. Maybe the other drifters wouldn’t bother him…

No, that was stupid and he knew it. Any sign of weakness
shown to complete strangers and he was opening himself up to getting assaulted and
mugged – even if he didn’t have anything on him. As much as he thought he
deserved it… some part of him knew that he’d regret it in the future. Either
that, or it was scared. Yeah, sounded about right… too scared to face
consequences.

A fleeting thought went through Carlos’ head and, following
it, he patted at his pockets. He realized that below the lump the underwear
made in his pocket he felt something hard. Carlos scoffed, unhappy with the
discovery, and reached in to pull out the key. It was in his pocket the whole
damn time. He must’ve looked like a pathetic idiot with how he’d been looking for it.

Carlos groaned and scrubbed at his face hard with his hands.
Keep it together… just keep it together until he could find safety in his… the workshop. He’d deal with everything
tomorrow. He left the room and went down the spiral staircase. He realized that
Neighborhood Watch was looking at him, but he kept his head down and willed for
them not to talk to him or ask him anything.

Once it became obvious Carlos wasn’t coming back, Hancock gave in to his urges completely, going through every chem stashed in his room that he thought might help him calm down, along with a second bottle of whiskey. Eventually, the ghoul ended up slumped in the corner, head hanging low and bottle still in hand as he drifted off.

Carlos made it to the workshop without incident. He supposed
everybody knew Hancock’s business was Hancock’s business. Once inside he
gathered up the blankets and some of the work cloths and started to make a sort
of bed in the corner. He’d been meaning to get a cot in there for when he
worked longer nights… he wished he’d done it already, but this would have to
do.

Carlos lay down and curled in on himself underneath his
labcoat. He spent a long time awake, just angry and unhappy with himself. There
were so many things he should have done… He should have done so much better.

Outside he could hear someone shouting. Some drifter being
thrown out of the Third Rail by Ham. Even further away there was gunfire –
probably from the Supermutant encampment. Carlos didn’t know when he fell asleep.

hands carlos adoption papers “Maxs old parents are abusive as fuck, he’ be better off with someone that actually cares about him.”

“Wha? But I…” Carlos was in no position to take in a child though. Angela didn’t even live with him. Night Vale wasn’t very suitable for children, in Carlos’ opinion, and his work would constantly get in the way. “I… I’m so sorry, but… my situation’s not appropriate for this.” He wasn’t sure exactly how to explain it.

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Carlos made a little yelping noise in horrified shock. No! his mind screamed, as his mouth
couldn’t form the words. It’s not Hancock’s
fault! It’s not your fault!!

He hiccupped and made a soft, distressed moaning sound.
Carlos wriggled his hand out of Hancock’s grip and wrapped his arm around
himself to hug himself tightly. He wanted to run – run so that Hancock didn’t
have to look at his ugly crying face and feel bad about it. But that would
require moving, which immediately wasn’t possible. Hancock was still
practically on top of him. And in addition, Carlos was naked. He felt so
exposed and raw already — he didn’t want to try uncurling and getting up to
get his clothes on.

But he might have to. He wanted to be alone so badly.

✿ -Cecil

Send in ‘✿’ for starter where your muse finds out that mine has Hanahaki Disease

Carlos had thought for a while that he needed to get another voice transplant when he started coughing up red.

But it was when he was getting his coffee that he spat out something. Cecil was there with him when Carlos realized that it was a flower petal.

Carlos’ heart clenched. He looked at Cecil and… Cecil had seen it too. Carlos only barely felt his stomach drop before he went into another coughing fit and spat more petals into his coffee mug.

How? How could Cecil… what happened? What happened to them?

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Carlos’ heart lurched and he felt himself begin to panic
again. Hancock was disappointed, and in his fragile emotional state this was devastating to Carlos. Am I ever going to stop fucking up? Apparently
not because he didn’t even need to say a word to hurt people he cared about!

He hadn’t been speaking because he didn’t want to cry again.
But his eyes and nose burned anyway with oncoming tears as he silently began to
berate himself anew. What is wrong with
me? No, really, what the FUCK is wrong with me?? Why the hell am I even
here – what on Earth made me think it was okay to stay here in the first
place!?

Carlos tried to keep himself together. He swallowed around
the painful lump in this throat and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to
clear out the tears. He sniffed and kept trying to wash Hancock’s back as
steady as he could.

He didn’t deserve Hancock. Carlos had been stuck in a vault
for too long and he clearly wasn’t cut out for relationships – much less one
with a ghoul, if Carlos was just going to be an ass and not be okay with things. He… God. He was just garbage.

Carlos stopped washing Hancock. The hand holding the
washcloth dropped into the water and the other hand left Hancock’s shoulder to
cover Carlos’ face. The tears wouldn’t stop and his throat hurt from the
tightness of him trying to hold back the noise that wanted to come out. He wasn’t
going to do this in a bathtub… please, God, don’t let him do this in a bathtub
with Hancock right there!

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“Don’t leave! Look – I’m not asking you to leave! Please, I –“
Carlos stopped himself. Hancock was talking so calmly to him, and he was
freaking out. Dammit, that was not good – he was just going to scare the other
man. Carlos shut his eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths. He squeezed
Hancock’s hand, not wanting the other to slip out of his grip. He just… he needed
to calm down and try not to unnerve the other.

“P-please, Hancock, don’t go.” He swallowed. Carlos had
opened his eyes, but he wasn’t really able to look Hancock in the face –
instead he was staring at their hands. Mostly Hancock’s hand, as it was
visually more interesting. “I… I’m sorry. I wanted to be honest, not… not make
you… leave. I want you here. I wanna try this. I want to try to have a relaxing
night with you, and…” Carlos made a low, sad groaning sound. “I’m so sorry… I
didn’t mean to freak you out, I just…” He wasn’t sure what to tell Hancock. He
let out an unhappy sigh. “I’m sorry I’m terrible…”

“Hush A Bye”

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Max was sitting at the dock, he knew it was late but he didn’t want to be in his tent now. He was shaking with tears running down his face, the nightmare that woke him up still lingered in the back of his mind. He hated it. “F-fuck…” was all he could muster out as he stared into the lake.

(( I’m not good at writig starters yet but I’m working on it 🙂

Max took the wipe, wiping his face then balling it in his hand. “It’s fine.” He sniffled. “It was just a stupid dream. ‘Didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t real.” It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Carlos.

“It was a dream,” Carlos agreed. “But you still have to deal
with the emotions that came up out of it.” He sighed. “Sometimes… dreams bring
up things that you didn’t really know that you were afraid of. Like… sometimes
I dream that my, uh… my mom shows up again just to tell my family how she doesn’t
approve of anything we do.” It was a mild way to put it, but it was an example
that he hoped Max would appreciate.

Max put his head back into his knees and sighed deeply. “Emotions are stupid…”

“Yeah… they are sometimes,” Carlos agreed. “Do you want to
talk about the dream? Maybe talking about it, your conscious mind can listen to
the events and realize that some of it wouldn’t ever happen.”

Max nodded slightly, putting his knees down. “I-I dunno how to explain…” God, he wish he hadn’t left his bear in the tent.

“It’s okay,” Carlos assured him. “Go ahead and start talking…
I’ll listen.”

“W-Well they were with me and- they sort of weren’t paying atttention, like I didn’t exist or something.. no matter what I did or said it was like they didn’t hear me- didn’t want to hear me.. then..” He was crying again. “F-fuck…”

Carlos sniffed softly. He reached and very slowly set his
hand on Max’s back. “Hey… it’s okay. I’m sorry, Max… clearly it hurt to
experience that in your dream.”

Max gripped the sleeves of his camp shirt, taking a shakey breath. “Then-Then David was there…”

That intrigued Carlos and he found himself getting hopeful.
But he reminded himself that this was a nightmare Max was talking about. He started to rub the boy’s back gently. He had
an inkling of where this was going…

“And he…” Max pulled his knees back up to his chest. “…And he was doing the same thing…”

Oh… ouch. Carlos could tell that that was an absolutely
horrible concept to Max.

“I’m sorry, Max,” Carlos said softly. “Um, you know… David
really strives to include everyone in the activities. And he pays special
attention to you, I can tell.”

“Hush A Bye”

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Max was sitting at the dock, he knew it was late but he didn’t want to be in his tent now. He was shaking with tears running down his face, the nightmare that woke him up still lingered in the back of his mind. He hated it. “F-fuck…” was all he could muster out as he stared into the lake.

(( I’m not good at writig starters yet but I’m working on it 🙂

Max turned to look back into the lake, he was crying now. “I-I had a n-nightmare…”

“Oh no,” Carlos murmured. His heart clenched in sympathy. “Oh,
Max… I’m so sorry to hear that. Are… do you want to talk about it?” Was this a common thing? Did David know about it? Carlos supposed not, if he wasn’t here.

Max shook his head and pulled his knees to his chest. “I hate it..” was all he could get out, resting his head in his knees.

Having nightmares? Or talking about them? Carlos wasn’t
sure.

“I’m sure you do, Max,” Carlos said gently. “I’m sorry.”

Max looked up, staring straight forward towards spooky island. “I hate them.” His voice was cold and shakey, he still had tears in his eyes.

Carlos was a little surprised Max went on. “Who… or, I
mean, what is ‘them’, Max?” he asked the boy.

His own voice sounded really
strange next to Max’s emotion-filled one. To Carlos, it almost sounded condescending,
which wasn’t what he was going for at all—he wanted to sound open and
comforting. He desperately hoped it wasn’t annoying Max.

“W-who do you think?”

Max rested his chin into his knees, hugging them closer to his chest.

Carlos wasn’t sure, actually, but he hazarded a guess. “Your
parents? Max, did you have a dream about them?”

Max nodded, he wiped his face with his arm.

Carlos’ heart reached out to Max. He started to search his
pockets, trying to find a handkerchief or a tissue or something…

He found a pack of hand wipes. That might help Max feel cleaner,
at least. Carlos peeled back the sticky plastic cover and pulled out a wipe
before offering it to the boy.

“I’m sorry, Max,” he said. “I know I said that a lot already…
but dreams do leave you with emotions you don’t want to deal with sometimes,
and it kind of sucks.”