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<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/894411>I Want To Believe (It's Not Lead Poisoning)</a> (Carlos/Cecil, Mulder, Scully | G | 2,446 words): Mulder and Scully visit Night Vale. This is a very fun fic done in the style of an episode of <i>Welcome to Night Vale</i>.
Excerpt:
<cite>Frances says they argued like an old married couple. She says the man Mulder is tall, but not too tall, and that his features are distinguished and his eyes are shadowed by old pain that will never be forgotten. She says she offered them a lovely Danish Modern sofa, but that Agent Scully said they had no way to get it back to DC.
The FBI agents - if that is indeed what they are - do not seem to mean us harm. However, appearances can be deceiving. Agents from a Vague, Yet Menacing, Government Agency have been seen following them. And no one reports seeing anyone in a leather balaclava all day, which means that the Sheriff's Secret Police must be <strong>very</strong> interested in them.</cite>
The Longest Surviving Intern at Night Vale Community Radio (Dave/John, Carlos/Cecil | PG13 | 52,165 words): Dave ends up in Night Vale somehow and becomes Night Vale Community Radio's newest intern. This is one of those things that I would not think would work well, but it so does. It is honestly super interesting, merging Homestuck's weirdness and Welcome to Night Vale's weirdness. Dave is well set to deal with Night Vale when he arrives, even if Night Vale is a different flavor of odd from what he's used to. And there's a slowly unfolding plot that works with both canons and makes so much sense.
Excerpt:
[Dave:]* ‘Sup, Night Vale.
[Cecil:] A little more vivacious, Dave.
[Dave:] Greetings, listeners!
[Cecil:] I already told you not to imitate me. You need to develop your own flare if you want to become a co-host of Night Vale Community Radio. It is our responsibility to the good people of Night Vale not only to inform, but to entertain, and one day, to provide a false sense of security when we are all irrevocably, unconditionally, doomed.
[Dave:] That day wouldn’t happen to be in April, would it? The thirteenth maybe?
[Cecil:] Which day?
[Dave:] The one where we’re all doomed.
[Cecil:] Dave, don’t say things like that! Were you listening to anything I just told you?
[Dave:] I was, but apparently my Cecil translator was switched off. Sorry, Mister C., won’t happen again.
[Cecil:] Apology accepted. Now, try something like: The winds whisper across the dry, desert sand. They are whispering your name. Welcome, to Night Vale.
[Dave:] I just got chills.
[Cecil:] Dave, you promised you would take this seriously.
[Dave:] Alright, alright, here goes nothing. A game is never just a game. A friend was never just a friend. Never trust a clown. Never leave without saying goodbye. And never, under any circumstances, turn your back on the body. Welcome to Night Vale.
[Cecil:] Bravo! Keep going.
*Note: Probably something like three-quarters of this fic is written as dialogue, with about the first half being solely dialogue, and the only indication of who's talking is the font color. (In the bit I've excerpted, Dave's dialogue is his canonical red and Cecil's is Night Vale purple.) I've added in the characters' names here, but depending on how you read AO3, this fic may be more or less readable/understandable.
Excerpt:
[Dave:]* ‘Sup, Night Vale.
[Cecil:] A little more vivacious, Dave.
[Dave:] Greetings, listeners!
[Cecil:] I already told you not to imitate me. You need to develop your own flare if you want to become a co-host of Night Vale Community Radio. It is our responsibility to the good people of Night Vale not only to inform, but to entertain, and one day, to provide a false sense of security when we are all irrevocably, unconditionally, doomed.
[Dave:] That day wouldn’t happen to be in April, would it? The thirteenth maybe?
[Cecil:] Which day?
[Dave:] The one where we’re all doomed.
[Cecil:] Dave, don’t say things like that! Were you listening to anything I just told you?
[Dave:] I was, but apparently my Cecil translator was switched off. Sorry, Mister C., won’t happen again.
[Cecil:] Apology accepted. Now, try something like: The winds whisper across the dry, desert sand. They are whispering your name. Welcome, to Night Vale.
[Dave:] I just got chills.
[Cecil:] Dave, you promised you would take this seriously.
[Dave:] Alright, alright, here goes nothing. A game is never just a game. A friend was never just a friend. Never trust a clown. Never leave without saying goodbye. And never, under any circumstances, turn your back on the body. Welcome to Night Vale.
[Cecil:] Bravo! Keep going.
*Note: Probably something like three-quarters of this fic is written as dialogue, with about the first half being solely dialogue, and the only indication of who's talking is the font color. (In the bit I've excerpted, Dave's dialogue is his canonical red and Cecil's is Night Vale purple.) I've added in the characters' names here, but depending on how you read AO3, this fic may be more or less readable/understandable.