#radio intern

[nightvalerocks]

I’m working on a WTNV radio intern cosplay. If you have any suggestions for how I can do blood/bruise/gore makeup please message me because this is my first cosplay;I’ve never tried to do that makeup let alone any kind of makeup. 

[thenewmi6]

Well I'm missing a chance to do an internship at my favorite radio station to go to *~*~sChOoL~*~*. It sounded so much more fun that any internships related to my major... honestly reconsidering my life goals right now...

[sweetflipwizard]

Your Birthday

~For the wonderful Sarah. Happy birthday!~

It is your birthday.

Once again, your house has been veritably buried in government approved streamers and balloons, and once the Sheriff’s Secret Police had completed their ‘random search’ for contraband, they wished you well. At least, you think they did. If carving symbols into your door counts as a form of congratulations.

Banners with vague statements about your age were hung on the walls overnight, probably by the Faceless Old Woman who Secretly Lives in Your Home. You haven’t really questioned it, but the lack of specifics make you wonder.

Really, you aren't entirely sure which birthday this is. Like, at all. They tend to fall at random times with varying intervals in between them - once you had two in a week and thoroughly annoyed everyone in the neighborhood. Not that it could be helped, as birthdays are announced via pulses from hidden gorge in a similar manner to the announcement of the new mayor. Still, it made for an awkward second party.

While nobody blamed you, an atmosphere of judgement lingered and you ended up cutting the festivities short.

There has been a sensible window of time between your last celebration and this one. About a year has passed, to your mind (although you don’t believe in ‘years’ or the idea of ‘time’, but that’s a minor detail). A small group of friends have been invited to visit and partake in normal birthday activities: terrified huddling; the cutting of the cake; screaming endlessly into the void. Has such fun ever been planned? You do not think so.

On cue, the radio pipes up.

“Such fear has never been known before. It is the dreaded Valentine’s Day. Welcome to Night Vale.”

Ah yes. Valentine’s Day. You almost forgot, what with the preparations for the party and all, and the screams from outside now make more sense. To say it’s only midday they are particularly loud. Sighing, you pull the blinds down and attempt to forget the carnage that must be occurring outside, vaguely worrying that your friends may not survive the journey over.

“To those of you celebrating a birthday today, the hidden gorge apologizes. There was a certain scheduling error. May you have a wonderful day… As close to one as you can get given the circumstances. Again, many condolences.”

You sigh, and idly prod a streamer. It writhes and screeches under your touch.

Thankfully, the doorbell begins to ring insistently, which you respond to with a sense of relief. Agonized cries permeate the air as you open the door. The decorations visibly recoil at the sound, but the woman stood before you seems unaffected. Night Vale residents are adaptable.

“Come in,” you say, running one hand through your hair. “Did you get here okay?”

Marcia enters the house regally, violet poncho contrasting the red balloons. In response to your inquiry she nods, rolling her eye a little. To be fair, it was a foolish question. Marcia worked as a radio intern at Night Vale Community Radio for a short while, before losing her two main eyes in a librarian-related incident. Anybody who could survive that would have no problems with a matter as simple as Valentine's day; she merely covers where her eyes once were with a tied up strip of cloth. Her third eye can do the work of the other two and then some. Even so, the way that she bristles at Cecil Palmer’s voice suggests that he remains unforgiven for her loss.

“Could you turn that off?” she hisses, glaring at the radio. It complies without you having to move, the Voice cutting out mid-sentence. Soft wailing begins to play instead, which Marcia smiles at in approval.

Conspiratorially, she lifts her poncho. A massive load of writing equipment spews out, littering the floor.

"Happy birthday. I hope you like the pens, they were quite difficult to get."

Together, you gather the illegal items and stuff them into a drawer with the words ‘No contraband here!’ taped to the front, and sit on the sofa as you wait for the others.

A few people, including your mother (who turns up horrifically late) and someone who claims to be your twin, arrive steadily. All of them collect in the designated huddling groups, indulging in some existential terror in a way that would have impressed the hooded figures. At one point the 'screaming into the void' activity turns into a competition, with people taking it in turns to give it their all. Your mother wins by quite a long shot. It is not a surprising result.

Somebody gets the cake out.

Intricate, crimson swirls spell out the words, ‘Congratulations on Surviving Until Your Designated Birthday!’ It doesn't quite lie central, so ‘Designated’ and ‘Birthday’ are quite seriously squashed together. Even with this minor error it projects just the right level of foreboding and unease. Marcia props her hands on her hips.

“I hope you like it. It took a lot of grovelling and tutting to get the Glow Cloud -” the whole party mutters an ‘all hail’ in unison, ” - to drop something other than dead animals.”

Suddenly, you are gifted with a free emotion; you hazard a guess as to what it is. ‘The Joy of a Child Putting up Their First Blood Stone Circle’, perhaps. Tears of excitement prick at your eyes. Your mother wraps her arms around your midriff for half a second, obviously affected by the promotional stunt (or giving in to the horror of Valentine’s day). Either way, she hasn’t been near you for years and you don't quite know how to deal with your feelings.

You cut the cake.

[deactivated-childhood]

I'm going to be constantly tired this semester especially with my internship but at least I got one, and at least I didn't have to resolve to taking a communications seminar. Yay for radio interning!