#cecilxcarlos

[somany-fandoms-solittle-time]

I love how Cecil is Obsessively in love with Carlos but not a full yandere. Man gets so sweet and soft and caring AND RESPECTFUL

[countslimeula]

I got to the ep "Through the Narrow Place" in Welcome to Night Vale.  And when Cecil said him and Carlos were running the marathon in "matching lycra shorts" I knew what I had to do.  

[flower-in-a-horror-novel]

Perfect - A Cecilos Oneshot

 Authors Note: I am using my own personal headcanons in regards to what Carlos and Cecil look like. My headcanons differ from what is commonly used and recognised by the fandom.

  Carlos' first day in this strange new town was going excellently, or so he thought. He'd begun working at the town's science lab, which had been abandoned for some time. It was dark, and dusty, but within a few hours Carlos had it clean and in a workable condition, and then he could bring in his equipment as needed. He was very efficient when it came to science, and easily had his lab set up long before he unpacked any of his personal belongings in the place he intended to stay. After all, science was his top priority, and he didn't think he would to stay in this town very long.

  As he set to work on setting up the lab the way he'd find it easiest to work in, he decided to turn on the radio. Wanting to get a feel for this town he'd be living in, he decided to look for a local news station, as he recalled walking past a radio station on his way to the lab. He had walked today, instead of driving, to get a feel for the area. He would drive when it came time to move his heavier equipment.

  "A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep," greeted a voice that reminded Carlos of black coffee; warm and dark. "Welcome to Night Vale."

  Carlos began setting up the smaller things he had managed to box up and carry to the lab. Carlos was no weightlifter, but he was fairly strong. He focused on how his setup needed to be, not overly concerned about the nonsense the radio host was saying, until something caught his attention and sent a chill down his spine.

  "A new man came into town today," claimed the man on the radio. "Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat? He says he is a scientist. Well…we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those beakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he’s renting – the one next to Big Rico’s Pizza?"

  Carlos nearly dropped the beaker he was holding. How had the speaker known all of that?! He had not had one conversation with anyone in town, aside from the person he was renting the lab from, and he had certainly not told anyone about certain humming instruments that now sat on a nearby desk.

  And there was something else that bothered him about what the host had said. He had described Carlos as beautiful. As... perfect. Carlos was not so self-centered to assume that the person on the radio was speaking about him, and wouldn't have thought anything of it if it hadn't been for the person he'd rented from saying it had been years since anyone new had moved to town.

  Beautiful. Perfect. Those words made Carlos feel a little sick when he thought about how they'd been used to describe him.

  No, he remined himself, annoyed at the distraction. He said I had a beautiful coat, and a beautiful haircut. That's all. And he could agree that his coat was, in fact, beautiful. Being in a new town was an occasion that he had felt required the purchase and subsequent wearing of a brand new, pristine white lab coat.

  And as for his hair... well, he decided that was a matter of opinion. He was silently thankful that the radio host had said nothing about the scars that littered his hands and arms from little lab accidents, or the slightly more noticeable burn scar on his left cheek from a slightly less little lab accident, or the strange whiteness of his blind left eye, from that same accident. The words beautiful and perfect could not, should not, apply to him. He was also concerned about the host's demands to know why he was here. The last thing Carlos wanted to be to the rest of town was suspicious, and so he felt the need to explain himself.

  Besides, he thought, if I make a good impression, they'll be less suspicious of my team when they show up later today.

  "I appreciate you all for coming on such short notice," Carlos said calmly, looking at the townspeople around him. He did not notice anyone taking notes or recording anything, and so he assumed the radio host that had earlier described him in a way that had made him feel so sick was simply not present. He wasn't sure why he was thinking about that, but he was.

  He cleared his throat. "I know new people moving to this town is rare, and I'm sure you're all wondering what exactly it is I want from you. My name is Carlos, and I am pleased to inform you that Night Vale is by far the most scientifically interesting community in America. I've come here to try and understand it better. All I want from this place is to sate my own curiosity. Others will be joining me, and I ask that you don't disrupt us." Seeing that everyone seemed fairly satisfied by his explanation of his being here, Carlos grinned. After spending some time introducing himself, he returned to the lab.

  "That new scientist – we now know is named Carlos – called a town meeting. He has a square jaw, and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is perfect, and we all hate, and despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure," said the man on the radio, and Carlos once again felt sick. How did the host, who had almost certainly not been present at the meeting, know so much about what had happened? And why, Carlos wondered with some frustration, is he so obsessed with hair?

  It was clear that, however the host knew about the meeting, he hadn't been paying too much attention to what Carlos had said.

  "Carlos told us that we are by far the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S.," the man on the radio paraphrased, "and he had come to study just what is going on around here. He grinned, and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly."

  Carlos felt his heart drop, those words echoing through his head over and over. And I fell in love instantly. As if anyone could possibly love him. The host was now describing Carlos as a whole as perfect, and it made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. He looked at himself. At his hands. At his reflection. He was anything, anything, but perfect. He felt a tear slip down his face. Feeling relieved that his team hadn't arrived and couldn't see this, he shut off the radio. He would not be listening to that station again any time soon.

  As the day passed, as his team arrived, and as the anomalies of this town began presenting themselves, Carlos found himself being encouraged to report such findings to the local news station, an idea which he was not a fan of, so he sent others from his team to give written reports to the radio host instead. However, one of the locals told him that it wasn't be necessary. Just explain the situation to someone, they had told him, and if it's important, The Voice will know.

  As much as the radio host made Carlos uncomfortable, and as little as he believed in said host being seemingly omniscient, the stranger's advice prodded at the curiosity that had driven Carlos here in the first place. Part of him wanted to meet this host himself. Armed with a now stained lab coat and a Geiger counter that he'd modified slightly, he headed to the radio station, nervousness gnawing at his internal organs. As he reached the door, everything inside him willed him to turn back, but that fire of curiosity kept him moving. He opened the door and stepped inside.

  The radio station was not very large. There was a recording booth, washrooms, and a door which Carlos assumed led to a break room. He could hear music coming from the currently empty recording booth. Carlos turned to leave, when he heard the door open, and someone walked out of what Carlos had correctly assumed to be a break room.

  "Hello." The voice sounded a little different when it was not coming through a radio, however it was still recognisable. Carlos turned again, and found himself face to face with the strangest man he'd ever seen.

  The man was of average height. He was scrawny, with jet-black hair that had a purple streak running down the right side. His arms were adorned with purple tattoo-like markings that seemed to move on their own. More lines of purple, which could have been makeup or more tattoos, crossed his cheeks, and his eyes were a kaleidoscope of shades of blue and purple, which seemed to brighten into pastel shades when he saw Carlos. Speaking of eyes, there was a black mark that looked like a closed eye on the man's forehead, surrounded by more purple lines.

  The man seemed far too excited for Carlos' liking, but he couldn't just say that.

  The man grinned. "It's so nice to finally see you in person! My name is Cecil, and I'm The Voice of Night Vale."

  He spoke the last part with such authority that Carlos got the impression that it was a title.

  "I'm Carlos," he said, glad his voice didn't betray his fear. "The Scientist."

  "I know!" Cecil exclaimed. "Would you like to stay for an interview?"

  "Er… no." He took out his Geiger counter and turned it on, hoping Cecil wouldn't know what it was so he could pretend the reading was high and use it as an excuse to leave. But then, the counter began to beep and whistle. The reading really was high. So high that he and Cecil should have been dead instantly. But they weren't. 

  "You need to evacuate!" Carlos told Cecil, his heart racing. "This isn't safe!" And with that, he fled. He decided he would not be sending people to the radio station anymore. He still didn't believe that Cecil could just know what was happening, and so he came to the conclusion that he'd just call when he felt the town needed to know something.

  Carlos would soon discover that time did not work properly in Night Vale. Nonetheless, it still passed, and Carlos still avoided listening to a particular radio station. Or rather, he avoided it when others were around. But he had discovered that Cecil's news station was the only one in town, and was a good source for finding out what phenomena Carlos and his team should look into next, as well as the goings-on around town. So, after a week of trying to figure out how to avoid any of his fellow scientists hearing the broadcast, Carlos decided he would set up his radio to record Cecil's show every day. And so, every day as he tried to unwind after the wonderful chaos of the lab, he listened to the recording. He listened to Cecil. Cecil, with his unrelenting praise of Carlos, who at first felt uncomfortable with such commentary. Cecil, with his warm and dark voice. Cecil, with his odd appearance that Carlos could not help but imagine every time he listened to the recordings. Cecil, who... Carlos was slowly growing to enjoy listening to, or speaking to over the phone. As time passed, Carlos began to grow used to Cecil's flattery that still filled the radio waves frequently despite him having seen Carlos' scarred face. Carlos slowly began to realize that perfect did not mean to Cecil what it meant to Carlos. Perfect meant to Cecil something completely different, and much less terrifying. Gradually, Carlos began to realize that Cecil liked him just the way he was. He began to find the over-the-top compliments... nice.

  By the time he'd been in Night Vale for three months, he'd realized that he really did like Cecil. Almost more than he liked science. That was concerning, as Carlos rarely liked things more than science, and was enough of a reason for him to stay in Night Vale past the time he'd originally planned to leave. He allowed anyone on his team who wanted to leave at the previously agreed-upon time to do so. Most of them stayed.

  Another few months passed, and Carlos only felt his strange feelings grow stronger as he learned more about Night Vale, and more about Cecil. This place was strange, but endearing, and so was Cecil. So endearing, in fact, that Carlos found that he simply couldn't bring himself to tell the host about his large and still growing crush. He could not tell Cecil that he felt the same. If he did, it would only break Cecil's heart when he found out that Carlos would not be staying in Night Vale. After all, he was still planning to leave, despite having stayed twice as long as he'd planned to. He would still have to leave eventually.

  By Carlos' eleventh month in Night Vale, he was beginning to doubt he'd ever leave. The place was far too interesting, and he was beginning to like Cecil far too much.

  One month later, Carlos lay on the ground near an underground city, nearly unconscious from blood loss. He had not expected the tiny city to be armed with explosives. Explosives that had torn his skin and flesh, and likely broken a few of his ribs as well. It was hard to breathe. From above, a voice echoed into the cavern. A voice coming from the bowling alley's radio, which had been put near the opening to the cavern by the alley's owner after Carlos' decent, so he could hear Cecil's words of encouragement. Now, Cecil's words were the opposite of encouraging. They were breaking Carlos' heart.

  "Curse this town, that saw Carlos die. Curse me. Curse it all!" Cecil's voice, usually so smooth, was choked with emotion, and all at once Carlos realized that Cecil cared for him far more than he'd ever thought. "Let us take a moment to–" Cecil paused. "Let us…take this moment–" Carlos had never heard him have so much trouble speaking. "Ladies and gentlemen, let us mourn the pass– Can’t. I can’t! I am still holding this trophy!  I– We go now to this p-pre-recorded public service announcement."

  Hearing Cecil's sweet voice so close to tears, hearing Cecil in such an emotional state, Carlos' fading thoughts were full of guilt and regret. He had known for a long time now that he'd liked Cecil, and yet he'd never said anything. Even after he was sure. Even after last month, when he'd decided he probably wouldn't be leaving. He regretted never saying anything. If he had, perhaps he could have gotten to know that interesting man so much better. Now he would die here, and Cecil would never know that his love was reciprocated, and for that Carlos felt extremely guilty. His last thoughts as he lost consciousness were of Cecil, and how he longed to tell him that he was sorry.

  Carlos had not expected to wake up. However, against all odds, he was beginning to regain consciousness. He knew this because he could hear the radio again. He could hear Cecil's voice... and he was happy again! Though, other voices soon began to drown out Cecil's, and as Carlos opened his eyes, he realized he was out of the cavern. He was in the bowling alley, and the wound that had been bleeding heavily was now bandaged. As his head began to clear, one thought solidified in Carlos' mind.

  "...Cecil... I need to see Cecil."

  In spite of the protests of the bowling alley owner, who had apparently treated Carlos' wound, Carlos stood up. His head spun, but he soon found his balance. With a little help from some random strangers from the crowd, Carlos was provided with a shirt that was not bloodstained and driven, in his own car, to the Arby's, which he'd asked to be taken to because it was directly between the radio station and the lab. As a kindly stranger helped him get to where he needed to be, he sent a message to Cecil. It was simple, as he was still fairly dazed.

  Arby's parking lot. 15 minutes.

  By the time they reached the station and the kind stranger left, Carlos was feeling well enough to get out of his car, though he couldn't get much farther and ended up sitting on the trunk. His head was beginning to clear. He hoped that he'd be able to hold a coherent conversation when Cecil arrived.

  Before long, Cecil rushed into the parking lot. “What is it?” He said. “Wha-what danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?”

  Carlos swallowed the lump in his throat, and took a slow breath. “Nothing.” It was still difficult to speak. “After everything that happened… I just wanted to see you.”

  Cecil's colour changing eyes went from a sad grey to an excited shade of violet that was almost neon. “Oh?” His voice shook in a way that Carlos had never heard before.

  “I used to think it was setting at the wrong time,” Carlos said quietly, staring at the setting sun, “but then I realized that time doesn’t work in Night Vale, and that none of the clocks are real. Sometimes things seem so strange, or malevolent, and then you find that, underneath, it was something else altogether. Something pure, and innocent.” As he spoke, he felt that guilt squirming inside him again. He had once felt sick at Cecil's strange way of flirting, as if it had been offensive. As if it was something more than what it really was; sweet.

  “I know what you mean,” Cecil said in a voice that was still uncertain.

  Carlos gestured for Cecil to sit beside him, and he did. The lights above the Arby's caught Carlos' eye. His head began to feel fuzzy again, and he knew it was much too soon to say all that he wanted to say. Still, in a moment of weakness, he rested his hand on Cecil's knee. Cecil, in response, leaned his head against Carlos' shoulder. Carlos realized that he didn't need to say those things. Cecil understood. Cecil, who had always known more than he should, understood. 

  And in spite of his former thoughts about the word, Carlos came to realize what, exactly, Cecil meant when he said the word perfect.

[pleasantlyannoyingartist]

I’ve been listening to Welcome to NightVale and I am now obsessed with it so i decided to draw some fanart of Cecil and Carlos

[elenels-draws]

Palette request #10 for @alyes21

Carlos and Cecil from Welcome To Night Vale!

[mischieff-in-the-making]

Please credit

[lets-fix-this-fucked-up-world]

Almost finished with my painting #wtnv #welcometonightvale #cecilbaldwin #cecilxcarlos #podcast (at Cave City, Kentucky)

[whilereadingandwalking]

I first fell in love with Welcome to Night Vale in spring 2013. I loved the dog park, I loved Carlos’ perfect hair, I loved the tiny city marching up from the bowels of a small-town bowling alley. There was just one problem: I have never been good at listening to podcasts. I don’t enjoy it. I’m an anxious person, and I need to multi-task: I need to be doing something with my hands as I listen. It’s why I love reading and walking so much. So after around 10 episodes of dedicated listening, and then a brief return around episode 25, I faded out of the fandom, with a lot of pain and regret.

That’s why I was so thrilled to see my sister last year reading Mostly Void, Partially Stars (Welcome to Night Vale Episodes #1), a collection of the first 25 episodes of Welcome to Night Vale in book form. Finally, I would be able to go all in on this thing I loved! My sister got me the first and second volume of the series for my birthday, and now that I’ve read the first volume in a single day—doing the reading and walking equivalent of binging the podcast—I’m glad to say that this volume goes above and beyond expectations. The episodes are fantastic, and fun to read—especially as I listened to a few episodes, so I carry Cecil and Carlos’s voices around in my head. There’s also a lot of great bonus material from writers Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, as well as from the voice actors, the people who make the music used for much of the podcast, and guest writers for particular episodes. They talk about how WTNV came to be, how certain storylines began to develop, and how certain plotlines were tidbits that they couldn’t let go. This book will be fun both to WTNV diehard fans and to new fans of the series. I recommend WTNV to anyone who loves weird, quirky science fiction with a sense of humor—I like to describe it as a radio show in that rural town where all the Twilight Zone episodes are actually happening in real time. On to volume two!