forgive me for turning back the clock to 2013 for a moment, but something i never really understood when welcome to night vale was at the peak of its popularity were all the comments some people made about it being a dangerous or frightening place to live. because, sure, there were plenty of dangers to life and limb and sanity - radio station interns dying cruel and unusual deaths was a running joke, not to mention the monstrous librarians, shady government organisations that kidnapped and spied on their citizens, and the terrifying, not always benevolent eldritch gods - but night vale as a community always felt incredibly, unbelievably comforting and safe. perhaps it was just cecil’s calm, soothing voice that remained so even while reporting events that you’d think would call for more concern and urgency, but i think it was also that the weirdness of night vale was, to a weird outcast kid already told constantly by the world that i didn’t belong and threatened and sometimes even hurt for my lack of conformity, a safe, inviting place to go when it all got too much. because in a place where the strange and unusual was so commonplace and normal that it was barely considered newsworthy, i was accepted. i was loved. i was home.