#wtnv tickles

[hardcoffeegardener]

fandoms that need more tk content

scp, backrooms, doors, camp here and there, welcome to nightvale, the magnus archives, ena(joel g's ena), once upon a time, and fnaf

[gaslightgraverobgirlboss]

Relistening to wtnv again and I got to probably my favorite joke in the series, which is when cecil mentions that Carlos is at erlenmeyer flask con. Cracks me up every time. Not even that funny, I'm just tickled by it

[happyandticklish]

Tickletober Day Six - Supernatural

Notes: So, I’ve decided to kind of switch things up for today. Normally the prompt would have been self-insert/oc, but as I don’t have ocs and self-insert isn’t my particular style (no hate against it of course, I’m just not good at writing it myself!), and yesterday’s prompt was late, I’ve decided to just do that for today. 

Summary: Carlos discovers something new about their odd little town. 

Since he first came to Night Vale, Carlos had experienced a variety of strange and fascinating phenomenon. From the arrows pointing out complex truths in the skies, to the disembodied hand that would stroll down the street as calmly as though its presence there was to be an expected thing, Carlos found the truths of his world expanding slowly. Even time itself was a unique, ever-changing concept, not fixed like Carlos had always assumed it should be.

For the most part, Carlos liked to believe he had adjusted well to the change. Of course, he had wrestled with it in the beginning. It’s difficult to accept sometimes that the world is not always as you believe it to be—and even harder to accept that it might never be. However, when faced with the unexplainable and ludicrous, Carlos had been forced to accept it for fear of losing his mind over wondering.

Moving in with Cecil had certainly helped. Cecil neither understood nor questioned the world around him, merely taking in each change with an unflinching smile. Being around him, Carlos found himself going along with it as well, even going so far as to view the strange, unexplainable town as normal.

Despite this, there were still things that threw him off guard from time to time.

“Ah!” Carlos straightened, glancing behind him swiftly. The papers on his desk fluttered at the sudden movement. There was nothing there, but he was certain he had felt it. A cool sensation sliding down his back on a point, as if by a finger. After another second of staring back at the empty room, his only company the bananas sitting on the kitchen counter, he decided he must have imagined it. A draft, maybe. He sighed, shaking his head at himself. “You really do need to get out more.”

He attempted to return to his work, an experiment he was doing on the specific mechanics of Cecil’s third eye. It had been a feature in their lives for as long as Carlos had known him—and as long as Cecil had been alive, to his knowledge—yet not even Cecil himself was aware of just what purpose it served. He couldn’t see out of it, but it blinked and moved and observed as though it were a living entity all on its own. The papers in front of him were the recordings of several tests regarding the matter—each inconclusive thus far.

Cold hands brushing up against his sides startled a yelp out of him, and he stood up this time, whirling around towards the intruder. Where whoever it was should have been, however, there was just empty air.

Annoyance and curiosity fought for dominance in Carlos’s brain. There was nothing there, clearly, and yet something had touched him, he was sure. He waved his hand in front of him, on the off chance his guest was invisible. However, his hand cut through the air normally without any interference.

He was about to sit back down again when he felt hands skitter up his sides suddenly. Caught by surprise, he giggled, arms immediately shooting down to protect himself. Yet no matter how he tried to rub away the sensation, it persisted, the invisible hands poking and prodding with glee.

“Shit! A-Ah, wahait!” Carlos curled inwards, leaning back against the edge of his desk. He gripped the wood, fighting between holding himself up and trying to fight off his attacker.

Tickling. Whatever it was, it was tickling him, and he could find no way of stopping it. He squirmed, squeaking when they discovered the spot under his ribs, and protested to the air. “H-Hohold on, wait, ihit t-tickles! W-What are yohou?”

There was no response. Carlos had expected as much, but he had been hopeful nonetheless. The tickling was cold and shocking, like the hands of someone who had been sitting in a freezer, and it seemed to sink right through his clothes to brush against bare skin. He was whacking his own sides like a mad man, but nothing seemed to make it stop.

When the tickling descended further up, curling under his arms, Carlos’s last defense gave way. He giggled frantically, slipping to the floor as his legs failed him. He clutched his arms tightly to himself, a placebo against the unbearable sensations. It felt like feathers and fingers all at the same time, and his laughter grew in intensity the longer it went on.

He let out a quite undignified shriek when he felt two more hands join in, squeezing just above his kneecaps. He kicked his legs out in protest, falling back against the ground in a squirmy, laughter-induced heap. “Shihihit! Nahahat thehehehere!”

The hands did not listen, or, presumably, hear him, but someone else did. “Carlos? Is everything alright?”

Carlos managed to glance back towards the doorway with difficulty. Cecil. He had forgotten about the other completely with the recent turn of events, but now that he thought about it, it was around the time his boyfriend usually got off of work. Cecil raised his brows in surprise at the scene, a confused but amused expression on his face.

“Is something… funny?” Cecil asked slowly.

“Tihihihickling!” Carlos squeaked, hugging himself tighter as the fingers seemed almost to speed up with Cecil’s presence. “S-Sohomething is tihickling m-me!”

“Tickling?” Cecil came around to where he lay giggling, and suddenly his eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Of course. I should’ve known. One moment Carlos, let me just grab something.”

Cecil awkwardly stepped around him, doing his best to avoid accidentally kicking the other, and grabbed a container of salt off the counter. “Leave my husband alone, you pesky ghosts!” 

He sprinkled a handful of the salt on the other, which Carlos only had a moment to question before he noticed the change. The tickling had stopped abruptly upon the salt being thrown; it was as though the hands themselves were recoiling from it. Carlos sat up slowly, panting a bit as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you okay?” Cecil asked him, his tone concerned. He offered the other a hand, which Carlos accepted gratefully. “Spirits can be pretty annoying, as I’m sure you saw, but really, they don’t mean any harm.”

Carlos shook the dust out of his lab coat, fixing the glasses on his face. “Spirits?”

Cecil nodded. “Yes, spirits. They come about this time of year you know. They’re not particularly malevolent creatures, but they do have a tendency to play pranks on the living from time to time. A little bit of salt usually gets rid of them pretty quick, though, so I wouldn’t worry about them too much.”

Carlos blinked, trying to take this in. Ghosts. Real ghosts who could affect the living world. “That’s… incredible. You mean to say that life continues after death, that our spirits are resurrected?”

“I suppose you could think about it that way, yes,” Cecil agreed, not appearing to be too concerned with the topic. Instead, a teasing light had begun to come into his eyes. “You never told me you were ticklish.”

Carlos flushed, momentarily diverted from the revelation. “It, ah, never came up. Besides, it’s not that strange. Most people are ticklish. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to do some research. The existence of ghosts is certainly something that will have to be investigated further.”

He rushed quickly from the room, trying not to seem too obvious about it. Though it had been an excuse, Carlos could feel excitement building inside him. An afterlife, mischievous spirits… it seemed impossible. Nevertheless, it was all part of the bizarre world he was living in.

Possibly, he would never get used to the strangeness of Night Vale. Carlos found that he didn’t really mind. 

[rosileeduckie]

Heartography

That’s the fun of science: there’s no question too small or silly to warrant not researching and discovering the answer to.

Cecil, stop laughing; Carlos is trying to be a serious scientist here. Just some boys being silly and sweet. And you’re on my blog, so you’re subject to my headcanons about Cecil’s appearance. (Mine and my partner’s--thank you, dearest <3)

SFW. Potential warnings: Night Vale brand horror/weirdness, blood. Otherwise fluff! Welcome to Night Vale/Cecilos tickle fic.

Word count: 3,436

~*~

Carlos had always been curious. As a child, he’d asked all the questions his blooming mind could conceive, and he was astounded to find that there was always an answer to be found. Of course, his questions back then had been “how does the sun move?” and “how to fish know what way they’re going” and “why do humans have so little hair?” Childish questions of a childish mind. As he grew up, Carlos maintained a healthy dose of curiosity in asking more abstract and complicated questions. And, he found, there was always an answer, even if he or his present company or the current earthly population didn’t know it yet. Even if the answer was uncertainty, there was always an answer. Carlos regarded that certainty as a mix of comforting and stifling. Curiosity could only go so far when every question had already been asked and every answer was on the horizon of being known.

Maybe that was why Carlos so loved Night Vale. Nothing there was certain, let alone bound by laws of convention or physics or logic. Any question he could think up and never been asked before, or, if it had, the citizens of Night Vale had long forgotten the answer and so were delighted by the discoveries Carlos could find for them about their beloved hometown. Many of Carlos’ colleagues who’d resided in Night Vale with him early on had found the shift in understanding—that trying to understand based on an outsider’s understanding was the first misstep—quite stressful. It couldn’t be helped, as they were going from a solid foundation of scientific exploration and adherence to reality to a town whose foundation shifted daily, chaotic and beautiful as its occupants. Night Vale was a scientific playground, a marvel unlike anything ever studied. For Carlos, it was endlessly fascinating and liberating, its uncertainty a perfect outlet for his equally endless curiosity.

Well. Speaking of beautiful residents, there were some things that were certain. Though Night Vale’s seismic activity and atmospheric radiation levels were in constant flux, Carlos could always count on a charming voice when he turned on the radio in his lab, a kiss-filled reunion when he parked his truck outside the radio station each evening, and a warm embrace through which to while the cold desert nights. Cecil was his certainty. Well, him and Cecil together was his certainty; there was still so much Carlos couldn’t quite understand about Cecil that made him just as beautifully fascinating as the town they called home.

For as long as he could remember, Cecil had lived in Night Vale. The weirdness that Carlos studied—as well as the more dangerous things he’d learned to tread carefully around (because a scientist would never find all the answers if they gave up just because something was dangerous)—each day was Cecil’s day-to-day. Cecil didn’t understand Carlos’ interest with a very normal desert community, but he did like the way Carlos’ eyes got very bright and words picked up speed when he was excited by a new solution to his infinite questions. And Carlos didn’t understand Cecil, but he loved tackling the challenge with each new hot day.

Cecil had… an effect. And not just on Carlos. Though, admittedly, Carlos could almost never say no when Cecil tipped his head forward and puffed out his lower lip, and butterflies had gotten into the habit of taking wing in his stomach and spreading a smile irresistibly upon his cheeks when Cecil leaned into kiss sweet low whispers into his ears. Those were effects, but actually quite mundane and, frankly, scientifically irrelevant ones (though Carlos had no complaint “studying” them). The effect that made Carlos whip out his academic lens was the one that Cecil had, simply, on reality.

Things just sort of happened around Cecil. Serendipitous things, but not always lucky ones. Things that weren’t what Cecil hoped for, but that he believed would happen. Carlos had his own examples: he believed that when he jumped up, gravity would bring him back down, and when he held his hand under running water, his skin would get wet, and when he told Cecil “I love you,” he’d hear the same right back. Cecil, on the other hand, believed some things that didn’t match up with Carlos’ understanding of how things worked.

Once, the two men had fallen asleep on the couch one rainy afternoon. When they awoke, a warm and lovely-smelling dinner awaited them on the kitchen counter, despite there having been no one else in the house (except Khoshekh, of course, but he floated, as ever, in the living room, and he certainly was not culinarily skilled enough to prepare such a feast). More than once, Cecil would set his phone down beside Carlos’ but neglect to plug it into the outlet. Yet, somehow, his phone never ran out of battery. Each day, Cecil read the news report provided to him at work (over a frequency, he believed, would reach the ears of every listener in Night Vale, even if they did not have their radio turned on), and he believed each story he recited. The fact that Tuesday’s PTA meeting had been rescheduled due to a conflicting sporting event or that the road past the library was under construction were not difficult or bad things to believe. No, it was the impossible things, like the local chapter of the NRA’s public service announcement that people were immune to bullets. He hadn’t tested it himself, but Carlos trusted the research that insisted otherwise, and he told Cecil as much. Cecil was doubtful but thanked Carlos for the information, nonetheless. After all, he trusted Carlos; there was no reason not to believe him. Within seconds, the bullet wound Cecil had evidently sustained that day began to bleed. Excessively. “People aren’t supposed to bleed that much!” Carlos had said, terror coloring his voice and widening his eyes as he tried to push Cecil to the door so they could race to the hospital. Cecil looked puzzled for a moment, taking that into account. The blood that hadn’t already dried on his shirt went back into the wound, and Cecil looked for Carlos’ approval with as easy a smile as ever. And Carlos had thought Night Vale was weird before. He didn’t dare inform Cecil that a bullet shouldn’t stay inside a human body long-term or that getting shot in general was supposed to hurt. He also couldn’t look away as the wound healed itself. With Cecil no longer in critical condition and panic no longer making Carlos’ legs feel wobbly, the scientist felt the familiar flash of curiosity up the back of his neck. Morbid curiosity, perhaps. Even so, Carlos was resolute that any of the new questions in his mind would not be researched by shooting his partner. His mind was racing as he relieved Cecil of his shirt and took it to the laundry room, wondering as he washed exactly what and how he could research to know more about Cecil. He could plan later; first he had to fight a bloodstain on the battlefield of his favorite shirt for Cecil to wear. Sometimes, science could take a backseat for important issues.

For most normal people, seeing their boyfriend’s chest bleed like it was split open would probably have been too much. Maybe that was another reason Carlos so loved Night Vale; he fit in with the not-quite-normal. And that whole bullet-immunity episode had caught him off guard, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been studying Cecil since they first met. (Carlos had been told by several parties that he shouldn’t misconstrue “studying” with “getting to know” someone, but he couldn’t help if his work mind and his casual mind had a similar proclivity toward perception and a tireless pursuit of knowledge). The tattoos were the first thing that caught Carlos’ eye, probably because they were eyes that seemed to look back at him. Eyes and patterns and inky tendrils that moved freely about Cecil’s body. He’d blink or bat them away if they wandered into his eyes or ears, anywhere that distracted him from what was in front of him. The rest of Cecil’s appearance was not so wont to change. (Well, sometimes, when Carlos caught sight of him in his periphery or turned his head too fast, Cecil looked a little off, but, a second later, he was back to his usual handsome self.) That said, Carlos could occasionally sense things. When Cecil hugged him, Carlos could swear he felt wrapped up in more arms than he could see (which was a little off-putting, but it did make for great hugs). He was sure he and Cecil were the same height, but there were times, usually accompanied by a crooked smirk and mischievous hands, when Cecil seemed to be much, much taller. Carlos would have sworn Cecil was sitting in the living room, only to turn and see him right there in the kitchen next to Carlos. Often, Carlos had fallen asleep at his home office desk and then awoken in bed spooned by his partner. Some “odd” occurrences may have had a normal explanation, but others may not have, and Carlos really couldn’t be sure unless he spent a good long time studying such phenomena that surrounded his partner.

Carlos loved his partner.

Sometimes, the scientist’s study of his partner was a serious affair, with Cecil seated in the lab and happily drinking a smoothie as Carlos measured and calculated and hypothesized in a flurry around him. Other times, the studies were silly enough that Carlos knew his fellow scientists would never be seeing the results of them. Those were usually conducted with Cecil sitting on Carlos’ lap and humming happily as Carlos’ fingers traced his bare arms and back, lips counting his freckles and chasing his wandering tattoos.

It was a silly science day. Carlos and Cecil hadn’t gotten out of bed, much less gone to the lab, but science was definitely happening. Beyond the closed shutters of their bedroom window, the morning sun beat down over Night Vale, hot and happy on this day of no particular days. The gaping air conditioning vent kept the room cool enough to give the couple an excuse to keep their legs tangled beneath the blankets yet not so chilly as to warrant them leaving the bed to put on shirts.

The study of that day was part of an ongoing investigation. For the past few months, Carlos had been on a cartography mission, seeking to map out Night Vale (conveniently via long walks hand-in-hand with Cecil). They’d crossed every street, visited every building (some less than legally), and marked on the map hanging in Carlos’ office all their favorite places to pause and just breathe, just be, together.

That day, Carlos continued his work mapping, measuring and muttering and fluttering, his fingers, currently, tracing Cecil’s bare abdomen. There was little more Cecil could focus on than biting his lip on a smile and breathing.

Carlos took no notes, though he was absolutely committing to memory all of Cecil, who lay on his back with his head tipped back into a pillow, lips wobbling against laughter that built in his heaving chest and made his tattoos wriggle. Humming thoughtfully as his index and middle finger trailed down Cecil’s sternum, Carlos said, “The Night Vale Board of Tourism is pleased to announce the grand opening of its most attractive attraction: Cecil Palmer.”

Cecil sputtered, his cheeks going pink even as he turned his head to try and hide his face in the pillow, and Carlos grinned.

“This magnificent attraction has many points of interest,” Carlos went on, trying his best to imitate Cecil’s crooning radio voice (which was made much easier by morning huskiness, but was still shy of Cecil’s smooth, deep voice), “and the Board recommends visiting all of them at least once, and then as frequently as possible.”

The way he lay with one leg hooked over Cecil’s thighs and his arm resting on Cecil’s belly, Carlos could feel the way Cecil’s breathing hitched as those two fingers traced their winding path down Cecil’s stomach. Cecil didn’t push him away, instead grabbing fistfuls of sheets and trying to suck in his stomach. It definitely didn’t stall Carlos’ fingers in their descent, but it did make Carlos’ grin soften. He couldn’t imagine a brighter sight to start a morning.

“This plain here is inhabited by the most beautiful giggles,” Carlos said, tipping his head to one side with a smile as Cecil burst into aforementioned giggles as Carlos drew figure eights on Cecil’s belly. “It’s the only place to find giggles of that kind, so we recommend taking long hikes to increase chances of spotting them.” Carlos’ fingers looped seamlessly to Cecil’s left side, tickling gently up it and then swooping down to his hips. He brought his other hand to play on the right side as well, prompting Cecil’s giggles to grow until they were proper belly laughs. “This area here is excellent for skating and sledding,” Carlos narrated to the tune of Cecil’s laughter. “Of course, being that Night Vale is a desert, you’ll have to be very lucky in terms of weather or very determined. With some creativity, though, you could have all the fun here that your children do in the scrublands.”

Cecil’s hands flew from his pillow to grab Carlos’ wrists when the scientist quickly switched to scrubbing his blunt nails rapidly back and forth on Cecil’s sides. The radio host’s laughter went silent before returning full force, loud and happy and splitting his cheeks in an open-mouthed smile.

Carlos pressed a kiss to Cecil’s stomach, meanwhile repositioning himself to more fully lay over Cecil’s lower half, his hands relenting to smooth gentle circles just under Cecil’s ribs. “For the more adventurous,” Carlos had to stop monologuing to giggle when Cecil, having just gotten his breath back, sighed, smiling all the while. “For the more adventurous, there are excellent ridges to climb to the south of the region.”

“Don’t you—!” Cecil’s words were lost to head-thrown-back chortling as Carlos’ fingers scribbled his hip bones, the poor broadcaster able only to bury his hands in Carlos’ messy dark hair and hang on for dear life. Carlos was doing the same, though by planting his knees on either side of Cecil’s thighs to keep from being flipped onto his back and suffering copious amounts of fond but evil payback. He’d have a much easier time keeping the high ground before Cecil had the advantage of caffeine.

“Some might say ‘mountains,’” said Carlos, giggling both at being in such close proximity to Cecil’s sweet laughing face and for the fact that Cecil tried to rein in his mirth long enough to lean his head forward enough to nuzzle Carlos’ ear in retaliation for what his hands were doing and mouth was saying. “But, scientifically, these are ridges. Because mountains aren’t real.” Carlos wondered briefly what had become of certain national monuments and record-holding high points on earth, if Cecil’s power of belief was far-reaching enough that they would be gone if Carlos ever went to visit friends or family outside Night Vale. Such thoughts were overtaken by adoration as Cecil tried to sit up and kiss Carlos even as laughter already parted his lips. Carlos’ hands shifted from villainous spidering to calming palming, but he could still feel Cecil smiling against his mouth. He almost let himself get lost to the laughter-sweet kisses, but Carlos felt Cecil try to turn onto his side and, surely, reverse their positions and had to send a renewed attack of pinches to Cecil’s hips until he crashed onto his back so fast that the mattress bounced under them.

If not by the fact that he was being straddled, Cecil was pinned to the bed under Carlos’ expression, all grinning teeth and sparkling eyes and tilted head. He gasped as Carlos’ hands began to slide up his sides, unbearably slow in their trek to their next destination.

“Cecil,” said Carlos.

“Carlos,” said Cecil, giggles evidently ready to spill from his mouth just from anticipation.

“This is a very important cartographical study,” Carlos said, trying to be serious as though he wasn’t smiling as widely as his partner was. “I must complete it.” He leaned in to brush the tip of his nose against Cecil’s and speak more gently. “Albeit we can put a pin in it, if you want.”

Pressing his smiling lips together, Cecil shook his head. “How many more points of interest can there be, really? A public service announcement can only be so long a segment.”

Carlos chuckled. “Oh, believe me, I could spend all day advertising this.” He pressed a kiss to Cecil’s cheek. “But, for the sake of good radio, I’ll only mention a few more highlights.”

Face going red at the sentiment, Cecil snort in response to Carlos’ professionalism and for the fact that he continued kissing, hopscotching down with each one, visiting the sensitive spots beneath Cecil’s ear, on the side of his neck, in the hollow of his collarbone, in the middle of his chest. “You can go as long as you want,” Cecil hummed, adding, “if the advertising is paying for it.”

Rolling his eyes, Carlos rested his chin on Cecil’s stomach and tried not to let those teasing words throw him off. He was a serious scientist and new advertiser, after all; he had a report to get through. “If the more physical activities aren’t your style,” Carlos said, his hands settling to cradle Cecil’s ribcage, “there’s always dining. The Tourism Board assures only the best quality from the up-and-coming little restaurant with the most beautiful view in the area. Not only is their location and service great, but their food is delicious, especially their specialty ribs.” He’d been improving to talk on and keep Cecil in suspense, but Carlos found himself relieved when he could finish his spiel and dive in to gently nibble Cecil’s ribs, his fingers vibrating between the bones as well, garnering a beautiful shriek, jolt, and, finally, a tumbling waterfall of guffaws from Cecil. That was what Carlos wanted to hear.

Cecil was positively howling, kicking his legs the little he could and holding tight to Carlos’ hair. He could feel Carlos smiling against his chest and hear him laughing every time he lifted his head to target another rib or to inhale to plant raspberries that had Cecil bucking. And, in Carlos’ many studies, he was certain of his love for seeing Cecil laugh with such abandon, as well as, complimentarily, how much Cecil loved this kind of play. It wasn’t just that Cecil never verbally asked Carlos to stop, but also, more so, the way Cecil telegraphed his love with his entire body. He pulled Carlos closer rather than pushed him away. He never, for more than a second, blocked any of the many sensitive spots—points of interest—he had. And the smile he wore from being tickled as he so loved by the one he so loved didn’t leave his face for most, if not all, of the day. Carlos loved that smile.

His laughter tipping toward wheezing (and the distant voice in his mind reminding him what station management would have to say if he came into work after losing his voice again), Cecil gave a desperate twist of his hips, and Carlos let himself be turned over with little trouble. Carlos braced himself against an incoming counterattack, but Cecil only shifted to flop on top of him, cheek warm against his chest and smile still wide as his laughter gradually petered out. “I had more to advertise,” Carlos said, unable to pout while still smiling himself. “There’s this wonderful spot in the south for spelunking—” It was also hard to talk when Cecil wormed a wiggling finger under his arm in warning.

“Schedule another segment; I’m sure there will be slots in the upcoming days,” Cecil said, kissing up Carlos’ chest to nuzzle his neck. “Until then, good night, Night Vale.”

“Cecil, it’s nine in the morning,” said Carlos, giggling as Cecil’s nose brushed his earlobe.

“It’s night until the coffee pot goes off,” Cecil decided with a shrug, snuggling into Carlos with a happy sigh. And Carlos almost wanted to peek between the shutter blades to see if the sun had yawned and turned over to darkness and dancing stars. But he didn’t, rather closing his eyes with a chuckle and a kiss to Cecil’s forehead. “So good night, Night Vale. Good night.”

~*~

EDIT: HI. It’s WTNV’s NINTH anniversary today. Cecil’s serendipity had BLESSED us, because that makes me feel AWESOME. PEAK timing, all on accident. I love it. I love YOU for reading this. Thank you <3

[catboyg1ggles]

I’ve seen a few t-fics for Welcome to Night Vale and I while I love the cute interactions between Cecil and Carlos, I have got to ask. Where’s my Kevin content? He has the vibes!

Kevin’d most likely be a very willing lee. His whole vibe is about smiling and having high energy, so he’d most likely find some joy in it. He probably wouldn’t even fight back more than in a playful sense, and if he were to talk while being tickled, he would most likely be egging on his ler challenging them.

Not too sure about worst spots, because I think he’d be pretty ticklish just about everywhere.

As a ler, hoo boy, Kevin is an absolute MONSTER. He loves being on the giving end, possibly more than the receiving end, and it shows. He’s more of a rough than a gentle tickler, loving to dig his fingers in from spot to spot, making his lee laugh hysterically, getting a nice big smile out of them. And he’s a very good teaser too, being partial to teases complimenting his Lee’s smile or laugh, and also “how bad it tickles here” or having a lee rate which spot is worse.

In short, in a tickle fight, he is both the unstoppable force and the immovable object. You are not winning. Your best option is to run, and to accept the mirthful fate to come when he catches you.

But one thing i feel strongly about is that going through all that Strexcorp did to him might have made him overly enthusiastic about it. Through physical experience, if you catch my drift. So perhaps Kevin might have a bit of trouble with recognizing when others need him to stop, or when he needs someone else to stop himself. But I believe that after some time outside of Strexcorp would do him some good. It would give him the chance to re-learn what a (relatively) safe environment is like, and how to enjoy it.

[cecil-switch-palmer]

Anyone want to rp?

[catboythanatos]

so... cecilos. i literally had to stop listening to wtnv last night because i couldnt focus on anything else, i was so emotional, i just want carlos and cecil to reunite so badly. their relationship is one of the most genuine and heartfelt things ever. its so amazing. so i stopped listening and i wrote this completely cathartic thing, i just started writing and didnt stop until it was past 4am. its been a long time since ive just written something with no plan just straight from emotional overload, so it was kinda nice. i like how it turned out.

i’m only up to episode 56 so later canon might contradict something in this but idgaf honestly this is some sweet and heartfelt cecilos from the middle of the night. enjoy

Cecil awakes in the desert. There is sand all around him, warm and course against his skin. He isn't sure how he ended up here, having no memory of coming here, but he's woken up in weirder places in the past. He is used to deserts, but this desert is not his own. He can feel it. Something in the air is completely different here.

He rises, brushing the sand off of himself as best as he can, and has a look at his surroundings. There is just desert, as far as he can see. Sand wastes strewn with sad, tiny shrubs and the strangest cacti he has ever seen. There is also a distant, looming shape -- almost mountain-like in size and appearance, however, it's difficult to say what it could actually be. He decides to start his journey towards that shape, drawn to it for reasons he cannot explain. He treks for quite a long time.

As the mountain-like mass gets closer, he sees that there is a light, blinking high upon it. It is red. Blinking lights are always red. The colour evokes an emotion within him. He recognizes it. He knows where he must be. His toes tingle with excitement underneath his sand-covered shoes. There is someone here he is longing to see.

As he continues moving forward, his steps become rapid, and his breaths become strained. He is running now, defying gravity, floating now, flying at maximum speeds. He watches the vast desert pass beneath him, dry and lifeless.

Before he even knows it, Cecil is floating up to a lighthouse. His feet find their way to solid ground, and it is his heart that starts to float next. Leap, perhaps, would be a better word. He can feel his throat tightening as he meets the eyes of the white-coated man standing before him, blinking in awe and confusion.

“Cecil?”

“Carlos?”

“Cecil!”

Carlos throws himself into Cecil’s arms, laughing a joyous laugh that's riddled with secret tears and longing.

“I missed you,” says Carlos, smiling into Cecil’s chest.

“I missed you, too.” Cecil holds Carlos tightly. “Don't scare me like that. I thought you'd be gone forever. I respect your research, and your acts of valiant heroism, but… I just wanted you to come home, Carlos. I've missed you so much.”

“Gosh, Cecil, I… I’m sorry. I missed you, too, more than you could ever even know. I watched you sometimes. I watched you through the photographs in the lighthouse. I saw you frowning, grimacing, whispering for me in the dead of night. I wanted to tell you that I love you, but I didn't want you to be freaked out over me watching you… It sounds silly now, but…”

“That's okay, I understand. Forget all that, Carlos, just… Shut up and kiss me, please,” Cecil begs, not caring about anything right now. What's past is past, what's now is now. It doesn’t matter how many lonely nights he spent longing anymore, because those days will be over now. Carlos is home! Well, Cecil is trapped in this desert otherworld with him. So neither of them are home home, but they're at home with each other.

Kissing Carlos is home. Running his fingers through Carlos’ thick, wavy hair is home. Carlos’ hands cupping his waist, his hand cupping Carlos’ delicate cheek, is home. Carlos and him, kissing, rolling in the sand, laughing, breathless, giggling, touching, being… Home is Carlos. Cecil cares about nothing else anymore in this moment. He loves Night Vale, but he would honestly leave it all behind if it meant Carlos’ sandy, unwashed hair falling into his face, and the feeling of his back pressed against the gentle roll of a sand dune, and callused hands of a scientist stroking his face, as he’s propped up on one elbow above him, staring down at him, eyes filled with love behind dusty, smudged glasses.

Cecil’s mouth had fallen agape, but his eyes were smiling. Carlos’ eyes smiled, too. His perfect lips grinned. He kissed his boyfriend again, laughing bubbly and brightly. Cecil’s heart tightens, filled to the brim with love and adoration. Carlos’ laugh was perfect. His mouth was perfect, his eyes were perfect, his hair, perfect. All was perfect. Carlos was his yet again. He never wanted this moment to end.

But then, just as soon as it had began, it ends.

Cecil awakens, once again. This time, he is in his own bed. This time, alone.

“Oh,” he says simply. “Oh.”

A small, weak whimper slides past his lips.

“Oh, Carlos,” he whispers, as he often does, helplessly into the still of the night. “Oh, Carlos…”

He stares up at the ceiling above him. He clutches at the pillow beside him, empty, devoid of any luscious presence; of any stray perfect hairs to tickle his neck as he shifts under the covers in the night. He sighs.

He sits up on the edge of the bed. The red light from his phone charging on the bedside table creates the only light in the room. It blinks. For a moment, he knows that Carlos would probably be awake right now, being, of course, in a desert otherworld where time is completely different from here at home, but he doesn't think he would understand. Deep down, Cecil knows that Carlos would understand because Carlos loves him, and misses him, and cares about him deeply, but … everything seems so complicated right now. He could call, text, or email him right now, and possibly get an immediate response, but for some reason, he doesn’t.

“I miss you,” he sighs hopelessly instead, as if there might be someone around to hear. There is no one around to hear.

Cecil flops himself back down on his bed, exhaling, long and dramatic. He tries to return himself to the dull lull of sleep. His heart aches so painfully that it is hard to even imagine that Carlos is alive and well and just a click of a button away.

He quietly watches the blinking light on his phone blink for a while, before it dawns on him that blinking signifies a notification. A solid red light is for charging, and a blinking light means something else is happening. He wants to think that different colours of the blinking lights should signify something, but he knows that that's ridiculous, since blinking lights are always red.

He reaches over and collects his phone from the bedside table, and is surprised, not unpleasantly, to see the notification on the screen. It is a Snapchat from Carlos.

The photo is of the night sky. There are specks of stars, and other strange shapes and lights, all along a backdrop of a dark velvety purple. It's obviously hard to capture something like the sky in just a cell phone camera, but it looks remarkably familiar. The caption reads: “How’s my favourite radio host doing tonight?”

There is a subsequent Snap reading “Is it night there?” And another saying “I don't mean to wake you up or anything, if it is. But the sky reminded me of home, and of you.”

Cecil’s chest tightens. The messages are sweet, but he wants Carlos to be here, with him, right now! He can't take one more minute of this treacherous absence.

He half-heartedly lifts his phone above him to snap a photo, in which he is pouting, barely visible in the darkness, one cheek pressed against the pillow.

He types various iterations of whiny ‘I miss you’s and needy demands before backspacing and starting over from the beginning, chewing his lip in frustration and thought.

“Missing my favourite scientist tonight,” he captions it eventually, hitting send in a haste before he can think too deeply about any of it.

It takes less than a minute for Carlos to reply. He has switched to the inside camera of his phone, where he has a sympathetic, but genuine, sad smile.

“I miss you,” it reads.

Cecil has trouble breathing suddenly. He wants Carlos home. He needs Carlos home. It has been days, maybe even a week, since he has even heard Carlos’ voice, and his heart is screaming with longing. If he is free to send photos, maybe he will be free to call…

Cecil brings the phone up to his ear, and the first ring feels like it lasts a century. But a mere millisecond into the second, Carlos picks up.

“Cecil?”

“Carlos,” Cecil breathes, trembling.

“Cecil? Are you feeling alright?”

“It is so good to hear your voice. I’m-- yes, I'm fine, Carlos, I… I just… miss you. I miss you so, so much.”

“Oh, Cecil,” Carlos sighs a beautiful sigh. “I miss you, too.”

“You need to come home now, Carlos.”

“I understand, Cecil. But you know it's not as simple as that.��

Cecil wants to be mad, he wants to scream, he wants to yell at his beloved Carlos, to come home, come home right this instant, I need you to be home, but… he does know.

“I… I know,” he sighs eventually.

“You know I miss you, too,” says Carlos. His voice is genuine, but it just makes Cecil sad.

“I know,” he mumbles.

“Go look at the stars, Cecil.”

“The stars?”

“The stars. Just pull back your curtain and look at them, just for a moment.”

Cecil rises, and walks over to the bedroom window. He does as Carlos asks. The sky is velvet purple with flickers of stars and other distant shapes and lights. “I… am looking at them now. Is there some kind of special surprise here I’m supposed to see?”

“There's not really a special surprise, no. I’ve not found a way back home just yet. I’ve just been looking at the sky a lot recently, and I wanted to share it with you.”

Come to think if it… The sky in Carlos’ picture did look very similar to the sky here in Night Vale. The sky probably looks similar no matter where you go. It is so vast, and everything else is so tiny, so insignificant.

“No matter where we are in the world, there's always a beautiful sky to look at. And if we do it at the same time… it's almost like we’re together.”

Tears prick the corners of Cecil’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I really do miss home, Cecil. And I miss you. I guess in a way, you are my home.”

“Have you been dreaming of me at all?” Cecil asks suddenly, recalling the powerful sentiment of his dream.

“I… no, why?”

“Oh. I've dreamt of you a lot. I keep dreaming I'll wake up next to you, or that I’m out in your desert, with you… together. But it's not real... None of it is real. You're never going to be home, are you?”

Cecil’s voice is breaking, and Carlos’ heart feels like it's breaking, too. “Oh, Cecil… Cecil. Baby. Don’t say that…”

Cecil softens considerably at the pet name. Carlos has never called him one before. It's gentle. But there are still tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening, dangerous, ready to spill down his face at any moment. “It’s--it’s been forever, Carlos.”

“Oh, honey,” Carlos coos again. “Oh, Cecil. I'll be home soon. I promised. A scientist always keeps their promises. I'm sorry if I've been … distant, recently. I'm sorry if I've made you feel left out with my scientific interest in this world. I haven't exactly been trying very hard to get home to you. It’s not that I don't want to come home for you, it's just that it's so very strange here… So very compelling. You understand, right?”

“Not really, no,” Cecil admits finally. “I don't understand. The most compelling thing to me … is you! I just want you here, I just want… you,” he huffs.

Carlos is silent for a long, long moment.

“I didn't realize that was how you felt, Cecil… Gosh, I… I am so sorry. I've been a real jerk.”

“No, Carlos,” Cecil sighs. “You aren't a jerk. I mean, I was kind of mad at you when you called that community more interesting than my community, but you aren't a bad person… Okay, I was really mad. Is that vague, possibly nonexistent desert even really a community? I disagree with that terminology. And I disagree with your opinion on their ‘scientific interest’. But… that's… okay! You didn't mean any of that. You--you always mean well! I just need you to understand how much I miss you, Carlos. I want you here ... with me! And I want you to feel the same way I do.”

“I understand, Cecil. I completely and actually understand this time. Ugh, you just wanted to be together and I brushed you away to gush about some silly science stuff. I am so sorry! I wish I could be home right now. I'm sorry I haven't been looking for doors home. I will seriously get on that tomorrow, seriously. I- I should have been doing that already. God, I’m sorry. I want to be home. I do feel the same way. I've missed… Oh, oh dear... We've spent our anniversary apart, Cecil, haven’t we. How can I make it up to you?”

“It's okay, Carlos. Sometimes we get invested in things, and forget to care about other things. I forgive you.”

“Really?”

Cecil is still mad, but he isn't lying when he says he forgives Carlos. It's not his fault that he's trapped in that other dimension, and he won't be able to be home instantly no matter how hard he is willing to try. He is definitely mad about the anniversary, but he doesn't see any use in bringing that up right now. Carlos truly feels sorry. The feelings of anger will pass. “Yes. I love you.” Cecil bites his lip, hovering delicately over the next set of words. “And … I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for making you feel guilty about being interested in that other desert. I'm sorry for being jealous. I just want you home. I’m sorry if that’s selfish of me, but... It's been a really long time now and I just… I want to kiss you again. I want to hold you again.”

“I love you, too, Cecil. And it's okay to be jealous. It's okay to be mad. It's okay to be… anything you ever are. I love you no matter what.”

Cecil smiles, wiping up some of his spilling tears with the sleeve of his nightshirt.

“Now, Cecil?” Carlos is saying. His voice is like soft silk, a delicate, private whisper into Cecil’s ear, smooth; seductive; perfect.

“Yes, Carlos?”

“Tell me about your dream. I want to hear what fantastical truths your subconscious makes up about me when I’m not around.”

In another time, in another place, Carlos the scientist is lying down in the cool sand, unwashed sandy hair falling into his face as he stares up at a velvety, purple sky. His one hand rests on his knee, the other clutches dearly to a cell phone at his ear. The desert, vast and all-knowing, spans out wide and far in all directions around him. He pays no mind to this. His full focus and attention is on the smooth baritone voice drawling into his ear. He pictures the images from Cecil’s fantasy with awe, and a vague twinge of melancholy. He smiles, delighted, showing off teeth that are like a military cemetery.

Back home, in the other time and place, Cecil Palmer is yawning. His cheeks are decorated with a deep blush as he rambles embarrassing and personal stories into the distant ear of one that he loves. They talk until the latest hours of the night; until sunlight starts to stream in through the curtains of Cecil's window, too happy and too afraid to let the other hang up.

[swampsail]

SO

I just found out a bit of WTNV canon that I thought was pretty neat for reasons I will explain below. But like, the person I would normally run to with this information... is the person I’m not talking to anymore. Which makes this difficult because I’m both tickled pink (and a little smug) about what I just read, but also seriously bummed out because I can’t run up to said person and share this info and we both scream excitedly about it

:|

that’s one of the hardest parts about being involved in a fandom with someone for so long, and you both have all those little inside jokes and such. It’s worse when you’ve been RPing that fandom thing together and there’s whole worlds and shit that only you two know about. If for whatever reason you stop talking to that person, all those inside jokes and character traits and non-canon story arcs are just gone and jshdsjkhdgsdfa it fucking sucks because like you WANT to talk to that person again but you really do not want to talk to that person again, but there’s no one else who is that person to talk about those very particular things UGH

ANYWAY I’ll talk about it all under that cut I really need to get this out of my system. tl:dr will be at the bottom tho

so yeah this is all really unnecessary context but; exfriend and I used to write WTNV together, and we had been doing that for upwards of 6 years. When we very first started out the podcast only had like 15-20 episodes, and we didn’t have a whole lot of details on important stuff like Cecil’s last name, or what anyone looked like, or how the town was laid out. ANYTHING, really, since Fink and Cranor have always kept things intentionally vague so that people can interpret things as they like.

so yeah when he and I started writing the RP we have to take what the show gave us and embellish on it heavily. Which was fine. it was REALLY FUN. And what actually happened was that we started adding in elements to our story that would frequently turn out to be canon later on. We had a running joke that we were secretly writing the show and Fink was just spying on us and stealing everything we came up with.

I know, that’s not actually what was going on. But seriously, we were right about a lot of stuff with like ALMOST EVERYTHING. 

not really important but like I said I have a lot to wordspew; eventually our story wound up diverging heavily from the canon podcast stuff. We followed the basic skeletal structure of it; Key plot points like the Strex invasion and Josie going missing , things like that, all still happened. But there was a lot we wrote that had nothing to do with the show, and our RP wound up VASTLY different from the podcast. Basically a big fat elaborate AU. And tbh I kind of liked our version better sometimes. *SHRUG* But even then, we still threw elements in that would surprisingly wind up on the show

SO THAT BEING SAID, at one point we did the arc where Carlos was trapped in a desert otherworld. In our RP Carlos comes home eventually, not in the same way he did in the show, and after his return he and Cecil have a talk about the whole year he was gone, and Carlos confesses that he was only gone a year in Night Vale’s time, but that he was in the desert otherworld for much longer. He explains that even though he and Cecil talked almost every night, for Carlos, their phone calls were weeks, or even months apart. Which is part of why he had asked Cecil not to keep saying he had been “trapped” in the desert. Because he WAS trapped, for YEARS, and it was fucking him up to think he’d never be able to get back. So he was like “hahah, no I’m uh, here of my own volition lol please stop calling it ‘trapped’ ”

so anyway we wrote all of that at least 3 years ago, back when that arc was happening in the show

SO TODAY

TODAY

I just now found out that IN CANON

Carlos confesses to another character in It Devours that while he was gone a year in Night Vale time, in the desert otherworld he was gone for TEN years

And like, on the one hand, I think that’s awesome! Yet again another prediction has come true (and this was one I decided on, that exfriend was not so keen about, which is why I mentioned earlier that I’m feeling kind of smug. So HA.)

and on the other hand

well.

I can’t go tell him about it :\ I can’t go be like “duuuuuuuuude GUESS WHAT, man you’ll never believe this”

tl:dr   3 years ago I guessed right about something that recently happened in WTNV canon and there’s no one to be excited about it with because it’s only relevant when pertaining to an RP I’m no longer writing with a friend I’m no longer talking to

[arbesathejohnlockian]

Do you remember...

- feeling strangely tickled by Cecil falling in love with Carlos at first sight?

- dying of happiness when they finally got together?

- realising that cats were apparently weird monsters?

- being so excited about seeing your first life show?

- screaming into your pillow after hearing Dylan as Carlos for the first time?

- looking forward to more live shows?

- feeling ecstatic when live shows first came to Europe/your country?

- buying your first t-shirt at a live show?

- buying your first merchandise?

- actually looking forward to the weather?

- freaking out listening to Sandstorm the very first time?

- falling in love with a fictional Lovecraftian desert town?

- partying hard after realising what episode 100 was actually about?

Do you remember all of this? I do. I remember preordering the first novel as hardcover and on cd. My first live show in Hamburg. Suggesting it to my best friend. I still listen to all of it, again and again. Because the journey is so amazing. WTNV is such a big part of my life. I love it to bits and I know a lot of you do too. So...try to remeber your firsts. Mine were awesome!!

[kindadisappointed]

aled last + 7, 18, 20, 21 (for the character ask thing)

oooh let's see 7: his tickle spot i feel like Aled might be one of those people who tickle all over and really easily (like just simply touching)18: things he'll never admit if we are talking about pre radio silence, probably UC and his fun closet, but besides that, he's a /terrible/ cook and he'd just invent excused to avoid letting other people know. Also he'd never admit that he /loves/ it when Daniel needs to wear his clothes and ends up with a baggy alien sweater and patched jeans20: What Ifs/Alternate Timelines if Carys hadn't run away, I feel like her and Frances could have been a thing so Aled would have eventually still met her, more as normal people, but still bonded over pranking Carys and Daniel. if he had run away he would have probably gone to find his sister and lived with her for a while, then he would've found a place for his own with some other creators and started a life long career as a writer/producer/sound designer if brian hadn't died he would have stayed at Frances' and probably told her about his awful experience at uni, so they wouldn't have gone searching for carys (but Lana would have adopted him or something)21: turning points in his life when he was a child, learning to read and write (so he could store all of his stories)in his teens, tumblr/internet, discovering wtnv, the fire late in his life the ending of universe city (probably around the 500th episode he wraps up all plotlines and gets all the voice actors (he now has a lot, for most characters) + carys and daniel as February Friday and Radio's partner to do like a 3 hour long finale), his sister's wedding and the trip around the world he gets to do with his marine biologist boyfriend (maybe husband) Daniel (thanks to their jobs they get to travel a lot

[rosileeduckie]

Eyes Only For You

Cecil’s extra eyes have a habit of staring at Carlos even if—especially if—he’s not paying attention.

Gay and domestic; I’m obligated to say nothing else. Still going strong for Tickletober with Day 27: favorite spot!

My first Welcome to Night Vale fic! I listened to the podcast every day during work last summer, getting up to about episode 110. Love it to bits; my favorite mix of weird, sweet, funny, hopeful, and horrific. Definitely recommend! I should also say, since we are given little as to what Cecil looks like, I ran with one of my favorite headcanons.

SFW. Potential warnings: Night Vale brand horror/weirdness. Welcome to Night Vale/Cecilos tickle fic.

Word count: 908

~*~

Much as he enjoyed his own tattoos, Cecil didn’t find them as fascinating as Carlos did. But, then, Carlos was fascinated by everything. No, Cecil saw the swirls and eye outlines that spanned his arms as beautiful but not particularly remarkable. They were tattoos as standard as every other citizen’s of Night Vale: marking his skin for so long that Cecil couldn’t remember when he’d gotten them, shifting in color and brightness with his mood, and generally moving about his body as they pleased. Usually, they congregated on his arms or up his back, but they could be adventurous, blinking and watching from his rib cage or knee or the center of his forehead. Carlos’ tattoos did not move at all. They stayed politely in place on his hip and upper arm, tucked safely beneath the waistband of his trousers and the roll of his long sleeves and reliably ready for Cecil to find any time Carlos let him go searching. Perhaps that was the reason Carlos was so fascinated by Cecil’s tattoos; where the artistry of and on Carlos’ body was like a treasure that could be discovered anew and familiar, Cecil’s was more like herding cats. So, Carlos was fascinated with Cecil’s tattoos, happy to spend an evening examine them and their movements (if the two men weren’t so easily distracted by other activities). He was less delighted about Cecil’s tattoos watching him back.

“Cecil, you’re staring.”

“I’m not,” Cecil replied, scouring for the last few edge pieces for his puzzle. With the long sleeves he wore, his tattoos had to crowd on the back of his hands or his neck to even get a peak at his partner.

Across the table, Carlos let out a sigh of a chuckle, insisting, “Yes, you are.” He warm eyes observed Cecil over his laptop, which definitely didn’t count as staring itself if it was in retaliation.

Meeting Carlos’ gaze with a smile, Cecil covered his eyes and raised his eyebrows. “I’m not,” he said as his tattoos blinked at Carlos. “See?”

“No.” Carlos closed his laptop and crossed to stand behind Cecil, hands resting on his shoulders. “Do you?” He guided Cecil’s hand away from his eyes, smiling himself when he saw his partner’s eyes still closed.

“Maybe,” Cecil answered, leaning his head back against Carlos’ chest and humming happily when kisses were planted on his forehead. “You can’t exactly blame me,” said Cecil, grin growing as his tattoos beheld the flush of Carlos’ cheeks at the comment.

Clearing his throat to cover his smile, Carlos asked, “Did you need something?”

Opening his eyes and reaching up to brush his thumb against Carlos’ knuckles, Cecil shrugged. “Take a break with me?”

Carlos was dedicated, hard-working often past what was good for his health. A few years ago, nothing could have drawn him so easily from his work. Today, though, it was rainy and cozy, and his partner was as warm and inviting as ever. So he nodded, heat in his ears as, rolling his eyes when smilingly invited, he settled himself on Cecil’s lap. He could feel his partner sigh against his back, feel his arms wrapping around his waist and holding him close. Content, Carlos lay his head back against Cecil’s shoulder, kissing his cheek and folding forward when Cecil nuzzled his ear. The scientist tried to focus on helping sort pieces of the puzzle on the table before him—something blue and indecipherable at its current state, but supposedly a coral reef if its box wasn’t false-advertising—but he couldn’t quite convince his arm to reach out for any pieces when Cecil so insistently sought to whisper in his ear. “Cecil,” was all Carlos could say before his lips pressed together tightly, neck scrunching at the feeling of soft lips brushing his ticklish ear.

“Mm?” Cecil replied, grinning through tickly kisses at Carlos’ scrunching and squirming in his lap. “Am I staring again?”

Carlos tried to groan annoyedly, but the giggles that bubbled from his lips counteracted any irritation he tried to emulate by making his nose crinkle and dimples peek out adorably. “I would prefer staring,” he managed through titters.

“Would you?”

When Cecil shifted to give his other ear the same attention, Carlos bit his lip to poorly stifle a squeak. Cecil’s hands shifted on Carlos’ waist, rubbing slow circles into his sides to counter or compliment the ticklish whispers at his ears. All day while he worked, Carlos had Cecil’s voice in his ears, reporting the weather or commenting on current events or sharing local stories. Carlos had never considered himself a romantic, but, right now, Cecil’s lips at his ears and only for him—no, he would never have traded this for staring, even if that, too, left him flattered and flustered.

The shy shaking of Carlos’ head only encouraged Cecil’s efforts. “I wonder how long I could get you to stay here,” he teased his partner, gently nipping his earlobe with a low chuckle that made him shiver. “It would be a worthwhile experiment, don’t you think?”

“Only if we specified what your hypothesis was,” Carlos said after a few giggly minutes, rising to sit on Cecil’s thighs and face him. He kissed each of the tattoos peering over Cecil’s collar. “Science without direction isn’t science; it’s just you being silly and exceedingly sweet.”

Cecil hummed, carding his fingers through Carlos’ hair and closing his eyes. “I didn’t hear a ‘no.’”

[cecil-switch-palmer]

Hello Citizens!

I’m Cecil Palmer and I’m new to this community! I’m a switch but mostly lee. I can’t wait to meet new friends here!

[cecil-switch-palmer]

Anyone is this community want to “role play”, I think that’s what they call it. I’m new here, and would love to meet all of you!

[rosileeduckie]

Eyes Only For You - I don’t know a single thing about WTNV but that was so precious!

😆 Thats what’s fun though, right? All you need for tickle fanfics are gay, sweet, and fun, the way I do them anyway 👍

I’m so glad you enjoyed! Thank you for your kind words 💕