crack_van | Through the Gates of the Silver Mic, by DJClawson (R)

Fandom: WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE
Pairing: Carlos/Cecil overall; Cecil/Earl Harlan in this section
Length: 8 chapters, 31,160 words (part of a series)
Author on LJ: unknown
Author Website: djclawson on Tumblr; works on AO3
Warnings: unpaid internships, police brutality, terminal illness, torture, trepanation, murder, ritual sacrifice; rape and substance abuse in other sections of the series
Notes: rendered non-canon by “Cassette”
Why this must be read:

This story is part of the Child of the Cosmos series, in which Cecil is the son of a woman from the outside world and a Night Vale inhabitant, and grew up under the guidance of the previous Voice of Night Vale, a fanged, pink-furred man named Algonquin. In the first two sections, Cecil, with the help of Carlos, learns about the family he never knew; the third, “Through the Gates of the Silver Mic,” is set during Cecil’s internship at Night Vale Community Radio; and a fourth connects a dark period in Cecil’s life to the house that doesn’t exist. The series is currently listed as incomplete in the Archive of Our Own.

I’m singling out “Through the Gates...” to recommend because it’s my favorite part of the series, and can be read as a standalone work. DJClawson has extrapolated from canon and borrowed elements from the works of H.P. Lovecraft (particularly the Cthulhu mythos and the Dream Cycle) to create an elaborate, internally consistent version of Night Vale. She writes familiar folks like Pamela Winchell and John Peters in ways that make them surprising while still feeling true to her source material, and creates some interesting original characters. I’m especially fond of Cecil’s mentor, Algonquin, who manages the tricky feat of caring for his interns while fulfilling his responsibilities as Voice of Night Vale and following the dictates of Station Management — even when it means watching Cecil report for his first time in the Dark Box ...

Cecil was still the dark horse candidate, if people even considered him a candidate or just thought plain old nepotism was keeping him at his post but wouldn’t allow him to go further, when the red envelope appeared. Jared found it in the hallway and delivered it to him in the break room.

“I-I don’t know what I’ve done,” Cecil stammered. They gave him consoling looks, probably because bodies were a hassle to burn (it took forever), and he went straight up to the booth, turned the speaker on so he could hear the audio, and waited patiently for Al to switch to a commercial segment.

“Well.” That was all the Voice of Night Vale said to that. Not that he was being uncaring – maybe there was just nothing to say. He put a giant hand on Cecil’s shoulder, making him feel even smaller, and led him to a small supply closet near the hallway that led to the Dark Box room. The closet wasn’t locked but Cecil had never seen it before. All it contained was a cardboard box, which Al handed to him.

“Use everything inside,” he said.

Cecil looked down and found mostly skateboarding equipment. There was a helmet with lots of padding – and two holes, presumably for Al’s horns – knee pads, and elbow guards. All were blood-stained but otherwise relatively clean. The only fresh item was an adult diaper.

“Cecil,” Al said, drawing Cecil’s eyes to his, in his special voice that did that. “I want you to picture an object. Nothing complicated. Something small and ordinary. Maybe something you own – as long as it’s easy to picture and means something to you.”

Cecil closed his eyes and chose. He could imagine it perfectly.

“When you go in there, I want you to keep your mind focused on it. It’s naturally going to drift away – just let it drift back. Don’t get nervous or punish yourself for letting it get away. There’s going to be times when you can’t reach it at all or you forget about it entirely. But always circle back as much as you can as if it is the only thing in the entire world.”

“And I’ll be all right?”

“No one’s really ‘all right’ after these sessions,” Al replied in a soothing tone. “But they’re survivable. They get easier with practice.”

“What did I do?”

“If they want you to know, they’ll tell you. Trust me on that.” He gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Come on. You don’t want to be late.”

“Through the Gates of the Silver Mic” on AO3 (link to first chapter)

Through the Gates of the Silver Mic, by DJClawson (R)

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