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#this is the longest ‘personal’ comic ive ever made hehe
bulkhummus · 2 years
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in honor of 10 years of welcome to night vale
[ID: A grayscale WTNV comic. Cecil’s narration floats over panels, bolded here and also placed at the end in a solid paragraph. He is a tall, thin white man with an eye on his forehead and two below his eyes. Cecil looks scared or surprised as he stands against a white background with a narrow black strip behind him. A tapping noise sounds out as Cecil, back now facing the viewer, looks through a thin white strip between a black background. He says, “My existence - is not unlike a tomb.”
Cecil moves forward with an upset expression, indistinct black rising and twisting around him. From the black, the white outline of a three-eyed tall and thin person outlined puts their hands on his shoulders, startling him. Then the black recedes when the Cecil from the Narrow Place collapses onto Cecil, who looks upset. “Every choice I never got to make - resides with me.”
“I lost agency-” A panel of multiple silhouettes--one with two eyes, one with three, and one with five like Cecil’s. Then a low angle looking up at the NVCR radio tower as speech bubbles asks, “Who are you? How did you get here?” Cecil supports the other Cecil through the streets, who is sketchy and clad in dark clothes. Cecil looks up with apprehension at the radio tower as the sick-looking other Cecil clings to him and radiates black. “- The moment I left the womb.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever come to terms-” A series of panels: Cecil and Abby talking with sad, resigned expressions at a dinner table with a third plate set out for their absent mother. A close-up of Cecil’s torso as he holds papers with an intern badge on his shirt. A barn owl looking at the viewer against a black background. A hand clinging from below to a bathroom sink, above which is a broken mirror that has dropped shards into the sink. A case of Cat Ballou held in front of a DVR. A cockroach with “Huntokar” written on it. A hand withdrawing a paper from an envelope that says “Lot 37.” “-With this path-”
Cecil’s hand pushes the door to the recording booth. A view of the booth is shown, and Cecil leads the deteriorating other Cecil in to sit. The other Cecil says, “Carlos. Carlos? Carlos!” as he turns into starker, smudgier black streaks. Cecil looks at him with sorrow and sympathy, then withdraws his hands when the other Cecil disappears when they reach the chair. “That I’ve been forced down.”
“But I do know two things.” A view of the crescent moon shining. Then Cecil unlocks the door to his house, and a frowning Carlos notices a “thunk” from behind him. Carlos is a short, muscular brown man with long hair. He turns on the couch and calls, “Cecil? Is that you?” Cecil strides past him with clenched fists, face not in view, and Carlos stands and asks, “Ceec?”
Carlos peers nervously around a wall as Cecil looks into a dark room with a frown and crossed arms. A dim view of a sleeping Esteban, a young brown child in bed. Cecil’s clenched fist trembles. “I have them-” Carlos puts his hands over his chest, a soft smile on his face, and then moves behind Cecil, shown through their torsos and Carlos’ hand reaching for Cecil. Cecil smiles gratefully as he leans back, and Carlos looks at him with a gentle smile and says, “I’m here if you need me.” “- And they have me.”
The full narration reads: “My existence is not unlike a tomb. Every choice I never got to make resides with me. I lost agency the moment I left the womb. I don’t know if I’ll ever come to terms with this path that I’ve been forced down. But I do know two things. I have them, and they have me.” End ID]
ID lovingly created by: @princess-of-purple-prose
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