anonymous asked:

ARE YOU STILL DOING FICLETS? I saw you reblogged something for Mr-reblogbutton's night value au. Could you write something for it??

I’m always doing ficlets, anon. Always.

And I’ve secretly always wanted to write mr-reblogbutton‘s AU, so I hope Keelin doesn’t mind. :D

(Night Value doesn’t belong to me, as you might’ve gleaned from above. You can check out more of it here.)

“Cecil?” Kevin called out, cane rapping against the floor as he made his way through the unfamiliar maze of the Night Value aisles. 

“Oh shit!” Cecil gasped, ducking underneath the counter. Tamika just sucked on her slushie, staring at him.

“Don’t tell him I’m here.” Cecil begged.

“Cecil Palmer, you know I can hear, don’t you?” Kevin asked, his smile going slightly wider. 

Cecil sighed, slowly rising to his feet in defeat. 

“Hello, Kevin,” he said. “Welcome to Night Value, how can I help you get out of here faster?”

“Now, Cecil, that’s no way to talk to your older brother.” Kevin said.

“You are only older by five minutes, Kevin,” Cecil seethed.

“Technicality,” Kevin waved it away. “But today, that technicality is very important.”

“Why-” Cecil started. “Oh no, it’s not-”

“Happy birthday, little brother!” Kevin grinned. His arms were stretched out for a hug, but Cecil rolled out of the way. 

“I also got you a present.” Kevin continued, seeming to not notice his twin’s lack of affection.

“You really shouldn’t have.” Cecil said. “Really.”

“Oh, it was no problem, at all,” Kevin said, pulling a small box from his pocket and placing it on the counter. “Go on, open it.” 

Cecil obliged, lifting the lid off the box. 

“What the fuck?!” Cecil cried, knocking the box to the side.

“Don’t you like it?” Kevin asked.

“Where did you get a mouthful of human teeth?” Cecil demanded. 

“Oh, just, you know, around.” Kevin said. “I think they’ll add a decorative element to your store. Now, don’t you have something for me?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cecil said, grabbing a pack of gum from the display beside the register.

“Oh, how thoughtful!” Kevin said. “I do love gum.”

“I’m glad.” Cecil muttered.

An alarm went off in Kevin’s pocket and he smiled. 

“I must be getting to Dust Hut; my shift’s about to start.” Kevin explained. “I’ll see you at Mom’s tonight for our birthday dinner?”

“Whatever.” Cecil rolled his eyes. He leaned against the counter as he watched his brother walk out of the store.

“What are you gonna do with the teeth?” Tamika asked.

“Eh, maybe I’ll put ‘em in Steve’s food tonight,” Cecil shrugged. 

There was a pause.

“Your brother’s super creepy.” Tamika said.

Cecil nodded. “I know.” 

wannabe-davis asked:

Prompt: Janice needs an outfit for a dance. Steve doesn't know the first thing about fashion and Abby is working, so Super Uncle needs to assist them in finding something suitable.

(Okay, I think you and an earlier anon collaborated on your ideas, but I’m doing yours first because the order of them will be more sensical.)

I aged her up a bit for this, hope you don’t mind. ;D

“I need your opinion on this one, Uncle Cee…” Janice trailed off nervously from behind the closed dressing room door. 

“I’m sure you look lovely!” Steve piped up supportively.

Cecil elbowed his brother-in-law sharply in the gut, adding, “Come out; show me.”

There was moment of quiet shuffling, then the click of the door opening. Janice wheeled out with a shy smile on her face. She was dressed in a floor length, violet gown with silver jewels across the neckline and her waist.

Cecil gasped, his hands flying up to cover his mouth.

“What?” Janice demanded. “Is it bad?”

“No,” Cecil said. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” He approached her with the kind of caution normally reserved for approaching a priceless work of art. 

“We’ll get it hemmed so it doesn’t get caught in your wheels,” he said, pulling the skirt up off the ground. “But other than that, it’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“You really think so?” Janice asked. 

“Of course I do,” Cecil smiled. “Don’t you, Steve- are you crying?”

“What?” Steve laughed it off, palming tears away from his eyes. “No! The sparkles just- just reflected light into my eyes and they’re watering, that’s all. I’m not crying because my baby girl is all grown up and buying a prom dress or anything like that- that would be crazy. What?”

“Aw, Steve!” Janice giggled, stretching her arms out. “C’mere- you too, Uncle Cee- don’t roll your eyes!”

Glow Cloud Light Tutorial!!

I just made this awesome glow cloud and I thought I show you all how to make it.

So what you’ll need is

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you write a Cecil/Carlos fic where they chaperone Janice's school dance and slow dance in the corner? Thanks! <3

Written as a follow up to this. Enjoy!

(I can’t write dancing to save my life, so…keep that in mind…)

“I can’t see them,” Cecil muttered, craning his neck to look over Carlos’ shoulder and out onto the dance floor. “Where’d they go?”

“Cecil,” Carlos sighed, his hand rising up to block Cecil’s view. “You’re here to chaperone all the students, not just Janice and Roger.”

“That’s a technicality,” Cecil said, waving his hand to dismiss Carlos’ concern. 

“Cecil.” Carlos warned. 

“What?” Cecil asked, batting his eyelashes in faux-innocence. 

“You know what.” Carlos replied. “No more searching for your niece.”

Cecil sighed, drumming his fingers on the overly decorated folding table at which they sat. He blew air through his lips, leaning back in his seat so that it balanced shakily on the back two legs. He waited .5 seconds before searching for the youngest Palmer family member once more.

“Okay,” Carlos said, standing up and grabbing Cecil’s hand. He yanked his boyfriend to his feet, dragging him toward the back corner of the room. 

“Where are we going?” Cecil asked. “Janice is-”

“Going to be fine.” Carlos finished with good-natured laugh. “And is probably going to dance much better than we’re going to.”

“We’re going to dance?” Cecil asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. 

“Of course we are,” Carlos grinned. “I love this song.”

A Night Vale Alphabet

Best if read in the voice of Cecil Palmer (Beware of spoilers)

A’s for the Tracker (Apache, he said)

Not quite as embarrassing now that he’s dead.

B’s for Big Rico, best under the sun.

No one does pizza like Rico, NO ONE.

C’s for the council, with crowns of soft meat.

They’re off on a clearly pre-scheduled retreat.

D is for Dana, or maybe her twin.

It’s hard to say which of them managed to win.

E is for Emmett, or Ernest some claim.

It’s hard to remember him, even his name.

F is the Faceless Old Woman who roams

Unseen just behind you. She lives in your home.


H is for Hiram and all of his heads,

A literal dragon who ran from the feds.

I’s for the Interns who’ve come and who’ve gone.

We send our condolences, then we move on.

J is John Peters (The farmer. You know.)

Folks love the invisible corn that he grows.

K is for Kevin who worked here a while.

Beware of the lies hiding under his smile.

L can be found on the edge of the town

It’s old Larry Leroy. He’s always around.

M is for Marcus, the town’s richest man.

I’d tell you what happened, but I don’t think I can.

N is for Nazr, the school’s football coach.

His tongue’s pretty creepy. I wouldn’t approach.

O’s Old Woman Josie, whom we dearly missed,

Surrounded by friends who do not exist.

P is for Pamela, mayor no more,

A press conference chief with surprises in store.

Q is a question you never will voice.

No “shouldn’t” about it. You don’t have a choice.

R is for Roger, who paid with a spine.

It bought him a condo and terror sublime.

S is for Steve. I’ll try not to rant.

He once saved my life by- No, sorry. I can’t.

T’s for Tamika, that lover of books.

She’s already found, so don’t bother to look.

U’s for the people just under lane five.

They’ll only rest when we’re no longer alive.

V is the vague yet menacing team

That works for the government. So it would seem.

W is for worms…(ellipsis, no caps)

If you can’t find your dog, it’s the pellet that yaps.

X has been cancelled, we’re sorry to say.

There’s nothing to see here, so be on your way.

Y is for you, it just so turns out.

You’re sometimes the one that the story’s about.

Z is the sound once you’ve turned out the light,

So Carlos and I wish you all a good night.

I think that, during the course of his European jaunt, Cecil got bored, went to turn-of-the-20th-century London, and started a publishing house.

So at work today I found this book, and discovered that its publisher is Cecil Palmer, which existed in the front quarter of the 20th century.

Then I went to Google to try and dig up a couple more things this publisher put out–which I found here, here, herehere, among other places–but I also found that there was a write-up about this Cecil Palmer in an old publishing journal.  Apparently there was this talk series about writing and printing in August 1920; I’ve linked the copy, which gets a little wonky towards the bottom of pages, but here’s this tidbit:

But the address in which we are most interested, was that given by one of London’s youngest, and most progressive publishers, Mr. Cecil Palmer.  […]  Mr. Palmer is almost a great speaker.  His thoughts are always lucidly expressed, and he generally has something pungent to say.  There is no bending to the god of convention in him.  He holds a view, and expresses it without fear or favor.  But he is always courteous, and it is sometimes difficult to find an answer to his cogent and clear reasoning.  […]  One of Mr. Palmer’s strongest points as a public speaker is his capacity for keeping cool while he is delivering his speech.  There is no mental panic.  […] The crowd of [concentrated] minds [facing] him has no effect upon Mr. Palmer, and when one is listening to him one is reminded of that early Victorian, who did so much for freedom of speech, Charles Bradlaugh.

I mean, it’s not “smooth and sonorous” in as many words, but does that delivery style and demeanor sound familiar to anyone?  Time is weird and not real, after all.