WTNV Secret Santa 2025

You’d think I’d be over it? After all this time, I haven’t really thought about it all that much. It was quite easy actually, I removed all the things that made me think of …her. I burned my bed, threw out every single mirror and slept on the floor for a few years or a few days. I bought a new bed after a while, of course. Rerouted my travel to not pass the antique store, stopped dining out and stayed far far away from the edge of town and any spire that may happen thé be there. But no, I’m thinking about her and it’s not even a special day, just another Thursday(in the literal sense, because Friday is sick of being a stepping stool to the weekend, “why is it always ‘it’s Friday, tomorrow’s the weekend!’ And never ‘it’s Friday! Can I just take a moment to tell everyone that I love this day, and don’t care for any pesky other days that come after, I don’t even remember what comes after’” Friday hisses to Thursday “ I’m just so sick” Friday complains, Thursday decides to take Fridays shift until you people learn to treat Friday with the respect they deserve) . There I am, watching the scorpions play, the new strategy is not doing them justice, Latrice might want to rethink the strategy of surprise. Then suddenly, the players are blurry, not the kind of blurry you get when the sheriff secret police messes up the brain tracker, but fuzzy like water over the eyes, because that’s exactly what was happening. I didn’t see how the match ended, I didn't even think about it as I ran past the antique store and back to my house. The faceless old woman was clearly in the middle of something because there was half a circle of dead rats, each head touching the other's tail. I walked straight past it and into the bathroom. I was over it, I must be. ‘But you still can’t look in the mirror’ à voice  said to me, it was unclear if it was my own thoughts or the faceless old women. I ripped the cloth from my bathroom mirror. I looked like a mess, my beard once evenly buzzed now sat uneven on my skin, my eyes were red and tears were falling freely. No second me, no Francis. I wipe my face. There is so much more to me than her. I daughter off strexcorp by showing them my tongue, I used to coach the scorpions for goodness sake. I take a deep breath and cover the mirror. This is not the time, I can panic later. “When is later? I’m worried for yo-” I walk past where I assume the faceless old woman is continuing her “art” project and back outside. Just jog it off. And so I  did, ran for hours along the side of route 800, I Indy turned around when I saw this strange place called “king city” and a very recognisable man with a tanned jacket and a deerskin suitcase.

@wtnvsecretsanta

My gift to @pirulated for the @wtnvsecretsanta

@wtnvsecretsanta

i was originally going to draw one dramatic picture but alas artblock lol

i love the idea that kevin dresses kinda boring (except for the blood but we don't talk about that)

Welcome to Nightvale Secret Santa Gift for @local-vastard ! I couldn't decide exactly who to draw for the found family prompt, so I just drew everyone I could think of because Nightvale is one big found family!

SECRET SANTA FOR @your-local-alian !!

WTNV secret santa for @goblinofpeacelol ! some cecilos :)

WTNV secret santa drawing of kevin/charles for @pandaragons !

I sadly couldn’t figure out a way to include but I got the other two requests in there I hope you enjoy ^^

propts: Cecil/carlos, Carlos holding khoshekh.

Of Cats, Cuddles, Snot and screams. (Found on ao3 under same name)

The world outside was screaming.

Blood and teeth and smiles too wide.

An invasion to destroy everything that had been built—that had been our own twisted normal.

Interlopers come to serve their smiling god.

This is not, was not, and will not be the first or the last, though it is the current, turbulent to our dear town of Night Vale.

And while time seems to chew us and everything good up in its horrible maw, we and the good find ways to persist.

Through everything we persist.

===𖣥𖤍𖣥===

Cecil stood in their kitchen holding—what can only be described as—a cat.

Carlos stood in their kitchen, cowering in the corner with a stuffy red nose from said cat.

“Come on! Khoshekh only bites a little! Look! He likes you!” Cecil said, bringing the cat closer to his cowering, cat-allergic boyfriend.

The cat in question—Khoshekh—only rolled over in his owner's arms, pawing at the collar of his poncho, a curling black tendril peeking out from between bandages as if to further secure his grip and place in Cecil’s hold.

“Cecil, honey, I love you, but for the love of science get that thing the heck away from me!” Carlos said, wedging himself farther into the corner.

“He’s going to be living with us for who knows how long before we can return him to the station; you need to get used to each other!”

“We can get used to each other from a safe 25 ft distance!”

“If he can’t scent you as a friend, you’re going to end up accidentally stepping on his tail, and he’ll mark you as an enemy! You’ll die faster than my interns!”

“Look, if it means this much to you, I’ll try. But don’t expect it to go well.”

At this, Khoshekh turns and glares at the scientist, who gulps in return.

Cecil finally crosses the kitchen, approaching the other man, and gently places his feline-ish friend in his lover's arms.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart; just remember to stay calm. He can smell fear, and it is not a pleasant scent.” He says, placing a reassuring hand on the other’s trembling arm.

Khoshekh—to his credit—looks to be in pure bliss as he settles himself in Carlos’s arms, promptly falling asleep after deciding that his body temperature was perfect.

“G-good kitty, that’s it. Don’t eat me in my sleep, please,” Carlos says, relaxing a bit but remaining on edge, just daringhis nose to drip.

===𖣥𖤍𖣥===

It had been three hours—THREE!

Carlos has attempted to put the damned cat down sixteen different times, each time met with protests of loud, scream-like cat whines, along with threats to tear up his lab coat.

Eventually, he just gave up.

Now he sits, Gilmore Girls playing on the TV, cat half-asleep chewing on his hand, desperately trying not to sneeze and disturb and/or startle the creature and face the consequences of getting on the bad side of both the cat and his loving boyfriend, who is watching both of them in a strange mix of content and jealousy.

“You know, you could always just, you know, take him back?” Carlos said hopefully.

“No, no, he chose you, and by golly you’re both just so adorable!” Cecil stated, cooing at the inky black fluff ball that is Khoshekh.

After another forty-five minutes, Khoshekh finally gets bored and leaves to go do whatever he does in his spare time, leaving Carlos free and able to let out a stream of sneezes that probably breaks several records and laws of physics.

In a strange sort of way, even as his favorite radio host takes the cat's place in his arms, he feels the loss.

===𖣥𖤍𖣥===

They curl up on the couch, able to ignore for a few more hours the terror that is happening across town.

Strex Corp, and by extension Desert Bluffs, continues to take over the town, capturing and enslaving their loved ones.

But for right now they are able to rest.

Soon a battle will happen, soon separation, and tears, and victory, and a wide range of events will occur, shaking up the very veil of reality, changing lives forever.

But for right now they are able to rest.

For US. Quick info on calling here. Doesn't take too long: https://x.com/omarsbigsister/status/1998542899915395414?s=46

Rules:

1. Do not tell anyone who your gift recipient is until December 25th

2. Do not post the gift before December 25th

3. If you can’t finish your gift, let me know ASAP, same for if you need an extension. If I get radio silence past the last check in deadline, a back up will be used

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