wtnv fanfic

Serious Question

Why are there so many WtNV Christmas Cecilos fics, but not one of them is titled THE NIGHT VALE BEFORE CHRISTMAS??????

Looking for WTNV blogs

My dash is dead. I tried asking for help from the necromancer down the street, but she said she was too busy doing laundry to reanimate the dead for me. Maybe you could help instead?

Things I’m looking for:

  • wtnv art
  • wtnv fanfic
  • Cecilos
  • wtnv quotes
  • That hoard of lizards that escaped the zoo last week. You know the one
  • wtnv text posts and theories
  • General wtnv weirdness

Hey, Night Vale fanfic writers, we got a problem!  The short version is “a for-profit site is illegally putting AO3 fanfic to their site and profiting from it without your permission.”  You’ll need to search for the name you posted the fanfic under to find if they’ve done yours.

On the upside, someone has posted a handy guide to how to get your fiction removed from the site!  And it’s just cut and paste after you find what fics of yours they’ve posted!

So I made a sad cecilos drabble thingy

I had this headcanon about how time passes in the desert but not in Night Vale.

Aka Carlos ages but Cecil doesn’t. This resulted in a very sad memoir ish drabble from Cecil to Carlos. The full thing can be found on AO3, or below the cut~

Keep reading

The Man from the Desert

Good afternoon, Desert Bluffs! This is Kevin, bringing you all your news and good spirits for another gorgeous day in the Bluffs.

Oh, I have some fantastic news. While I was on my way to the station, I saw a man wandering out in the desert and, oh blessed listeners, he is handsome. I asked him who he was and what tempted him to visit our beautiful city. He says his name is Earl and just kept saying that he “shouldn’t have left.” Well, that’s true, I suppose. I can’t imagine why anyone would leave someplace as wonderful as the Bluffs. Something odd, though. He kept calling me Cecil and reaching out for me. Strange. He also said he was thirsty and weak and needed a doctor because he “can’t even bleed anymore.” Now, that is quite a problem, so I brought him to StrexCorp Medical and will be seeing him again later today.

If I may reiterate, listeners, this man is very handsome. He even said he loved me! And I instantly knew that I will love him back. 

Cats Are Overrated Anyway

A/N: So, I’d been meaning to write something for Nazi-Nurse based on this ask that they got a long while back. 

I’m really rusty on the fan-fiction circuit so something here probably got butchered in the process of this. But cute fluff ahoy? That’s kind of a plus, right?

Diego is the lovely creation of Nazi-Nurse. We’re all just obsessed with him. Meep.

Keep reading

We Know Where Carlos Is

I am so happy about the latest episode, and I know the rest of the fandom is too, but everyone has overlooked a very important point: Carlos has not yet been freed from The House That Does Not Exist. In real time, this has been a month. But how long has it been for CARLOS?

Rochelle from Carlos’s team of scientists says she was trapped in THTDNE for several hours in NV’s 45 minutes. Assuming she means exactly seven hours:

That is 9.3 (recurring) minutes per NV minute.

9.3 x 60 = 560 minutes per NV hour

560 x 24 = 13440 minutes per NV (24 hour) day.

Let’s assume Carlos will be trapped for 45 days, which includes the month that has already passed and the two weeks it will take until the next episode (remembering that the time elapsed in real time is equivalent to the time elapsed in NV time). This is also assuming Carlos will be freed in the next episode.

13440 x 45 = 604800 minutes

604800/60 = 10080 hours

10080/24 = 420 days

Carlos has been trapped in The House That Does Not Exist for 420 days.

Now imagine he does not have a food and water source.

Or that he does.

I’m currently writing a fanfic that explores Carlos’s 420 days in the house, so if you’re interested, feel free to follow me on my tumblr, where I will give updates and other WTNV theories.

I will be posting the fic onto my ao3 account and my writing blog.

Now have a good day! Haha.

“Cecil!” Carlos practically sprinted into the radio station, carrying a piece of toast in one hand and a ball of twine in the other.

“What is it? Is there some emergency? Is that … wheat?”

Carlos glanced down at the bread he was holding. “Oh, um, yes, but that’s not important. Well, I suppose it makes what I’m about to do potentially illegal, but after the initial test we can try it with potato bread, or rye, and I bet it would still work.”

“What test?” Cecil’s eyes lit up (literally, Carlos thought, though it was always hard to tell for sure). “Are you here to do science?”

Carlos nodded. “I was thinking about Khoshekh and his kittens, and how it’s really too bad that they’ll have to spend their entire lives hovering in the men’s restroom.”

“Khoshekh seems perfectly happy here,” said Cecil. “He purrs like anything.” Carlos winced, remembering what that purring had sounded like. “But you’re right about the kittens. A young cat should have a chance to play, to explore, to hunt, before settling down in a fixed point in midair.” And Carlos thought of a … cat … like Khoshekh actually being able to hunt, and thought that maybe this was a really bad idea. But … he really had to see if this worked.

The rodent and bird populations of Night Vale were probably heavily armed, anyway.

Keep reading

Past Lives

[based on multiple prompts for some post-Best Of? fluff, and this song]

Carlos finds himself still listening to the nightly broadcasts, even now that Cecil is here, physically here, lying only a few feet away, softly snoring and mumbling wonderful nonsense in his sleep.  It’s simply routine at this point to lie down under the capricious constellations of the desert sky and switch on the radio.  He uses headphones - miraculously still functional despite the inestimable amount of sand and grit that must have found its way into every crevice - so as not to wake his sleeping lover.  

Keep reading

certificate of authenticity

what definitely happened right after the end of Auction a.k.a. who bought lot 37 anyway??


It has been a very long and very strange day, and the Voice of Night Vale wants nothing more than a little bit of comfort after having what little degree of bodily autonomy he had retained sheerly by being the occupant of this particular body has been sold out from under him. And all because he forgot to put up his paddle, too. So, he can’t even blame it on the omniscient, uncaring gods, which means that Cecil Palmer is feeling doubly low about himself. 

But there is one place he can go for someone who can provide some semblance of solace, an embrace that, if not able to fix anything, can certainly mean forgetting it for a while. And so Cecil drives the short distance from the radio station to Carlos’s house, where leaves are tumbling across the lawn, which is whistling a small little ditty.

Keep reading

What if Cecil is on his deathbed one day, and talking to Carlos about

How he doesn’t want to leave Carlos, how he doesn’t want to let go because then Carlos won’t have someone to take care of him. Carlos won’t have someone who washes lab coats, or refresh his coffee, or someone to gently kiss his forehead. And Carlos says “I’ll be fine, I’m a scientist,” and with that, a smile crosses Cecil’s face and he let’s go when Carlos leans in to kiss him one more time. Then Carlos says, “Scientists are usually fine,” and Carlos starts to cry as the nurses rush in