#Like they were there and were traumatized but nothing later
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revvethasmythh · 2 days ago
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listen, now that everything is said and done i'm going to say something i've been thinking but not outright saying for the past nearly four years. frankly, imogen and laudna's relationship is a pale shadow of caleb and veth's and if you really sit and think about it, it's outright embarrassing for the former party. it's like if you saw a beautiful piece of art and tried to emulate it and then the only thing you managed to jot down that was the same was the basic shape and you never added any color when the color was the most important part. imogen and laudna's relationship is formed out of almost the exact same origins (troubled mage who needs to keep a distance from regular society joins up with monstrous misfit with a traumatic backstory and become each other's most important person while traveling place-to-place because they keep getting into trouble in cities). the difference is, genuinely, how much more colorful and lived in caleb and veth's story feels. they met in a podunk county jail and worked together to break out of the place, stayed together for practical reasons (straight-up survival) and then out of genuine friendship. they were hobos in the woods together. they cuddled on the side of the roads on cold nights together. they were genuinely each other's sole lifeline because they were the type of people no one in the world cared about in a very real, visceral way. they were also con artists, and sam and liam worked together to come up with an entire booklet of different cons they used to survive, which come into play surprisingly often during the campaign (Modern Literature, famously, but also Mother's Love and Money Pot featured).
comparatively, we know next to nothing about what imogen and laudna's lives looked like after leaving gelvaan, and the Incident™️ that sent them running in the first place remains amorphous and random no matter how many times the story is told or whatever extra details get added. the people of gelvaan found laudna to be a generically threatening presence (because of her fun-scary appearance and/or kooky-fun-scary behavior) and picked up their torches and pitchforks to run her out of town. imogen heard her thoughts and found them so beautiful she nearly killed two of the townspeople she grew up with the defend her and then they fled into the night together. and that's it. what did they do for two entire years after that? i don't know! neither do you. they don't appear to have struggled for money like caleb and veth did, there's no reference to hard-living, no real reference to what jobs they took to stay afloat, no mention of the practical realities of living as homeless nomads, no mention of towns and cities they'd visited and how those places impacted them. nothing. empty. no color. how did their relationship develop? also don't know! they seem to have slotted together perfectly as friends with no conflict for years before slotting together perfectly as lovers while batting aside all attempts at conflict later. done and dusted, that's the relationship, and people have the gall to call caleb and veth's successor relationship 'soulmatism' when it doesn't hold a candle to what the original offered.
which was, to be clear, endless complexity. i can't tell you how to define it, and i don't think the character's themselves could define it if they tried. sam went into the campaign intending to lean into a familial relationship and quickly realized that wasn't the vibe, course-corrected into veth having a crush on caleb--something sam has said developed fairly early in the campaign.* liam went into the relationship not intending to care about her nearly as much as he ended up doing, then spent the early campaign eps grappling with just how suddenly important she was to him, to the point that, in the face of her potentially dying in episode 20, liam says to sam, "do you want to make my character turn evil already?"** both were surprised at how tightly their characters clung to each other, and developed a deeply caring, highly insular dynamic where they were suspicious of outsiders and desperately guarded each other. with full retrospect, both went into the relationship intending to use each other (caleb for general usefulness/protection and veth, obviously, hoping caleb could change her back one day), then found such deep and tender care that they became each other's worlds. for a time. until nott became veth and veth had a husband and it sent their relationship into a tailspin because no matter how you frame the relationship, caleb clearly felt his feelings for her and the way they behaved together stepped over the line of how one should act with a married woman. after that, he is terrified of the idea that he might not have a place in her life and works so hard to create opportunities to insinuate himself into her present and future (teleportation spells so she can travel home quickly and still return to the group, making room for her family in the tower so she can stay with him, offering to tutor luc in magic to stay in her life, etc). veth gets her body and her life back but fears returning home will be lackluster compared to what she's experienced with the group, starts falling out of love with her husband, and has intense extra-martial feelings for caleb that are canonical. their relationship morphs and changes constantly throughout the campaign, and the one thing about their dynamic that never changes is how deeply and truly they love each other. you want to talk about soulmatism? them being the two party members with fake names who's real names share aspects of each other ("Bren" and "Brenatto") both from small-town dwendalian empire who's lives have been deeply impacted by meddling of the cerberus assembly (veth's in adulthood, caleb's in childhood) and who's deepest traumas are respectively fire and water does the trick for me.
so why is one so popular and the other, particularly as a romantic ship, very much is not? it would be obtuse of me not to immediately point to the fact that imogen and laudna are two pretty, skinny white women who claim to have deliciously little agency in their own stories and provide a blank enough canvas that the relationship can be whatever you want it to be. there's a reason there's so many AU fics for them, after all. caleb and veth on the other hand would center first a relationship between the handsome white fandom-popular sadboi and *checks notes* a self-described ugly, unfeminine goblin with deep neuroses and later a short, fat brown woman who also happens to be a young mother from a small country town. popular fandom, tragically, will almost always turn away from dealing with complexity of the latter for the empty calories of the former regardless of the quality gap between the two. if anything, watching the popularity of imogen and laudna's relationship has cemented my opinion that if veth had been different (either a man or a generically attractive white woman or someone more conventionally pretty just in general), widobrave would have been a massively popular ship, and i think it would have been regardless of veth's marriage. people can forgive a lot to write about their two generically attractive favorites getting together. they're a lot less forgiving for an ugly goblin or a fat, brown young mother, though.
tldr: reject modernity, embrace tradition. ship widobrave
*Talks Machina for C2E88, VOD no longer available, but a paraphrase of the quote can be found here **(2:09:30 on the YouTube VOD).
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babvc-au · 1 hour ago
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Scene 14:
(A Few Days Later...)
The public library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of pages and the soft creak of wooden shelves.
Bendy wandered through the folklore and fantasy section, his fingers brushing against the spines of old, dusty books.
Then, one caught his eye.
It wasn’t flashy—just a worn, leather-bound tome with a metal clasp, holding it together. But something about it sent a strange, almost magnetic pull through him.
A weird feeling settled in his gut.
Why does this book feel… important?
Hesitantly, he pulled it from the shelf—
"Tch—!"
He winced as a sharp sting shot through his finger. A small bead of ink-like blood welled up on the tip.
“The hell? Why is that so sharp—?”
A soft click echoed.
The metal clasp unlocked on its own.
Bendy’s brows knit together. "Okay… that’s not weird at all."
Still, curiosity overpowered caution. He carefully flipped the cover open—only to be met with empty pages.
���A… blank book?”
He turned a few more pages. Same thing. Just smooth, untouched parchment.
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Bendy frowned. Did I just get all excited for nothing?
Before he could close it, the pages began to glow.
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The light flickered softly at first, then intensified, illuminating the dim aisle.
The book suddenly yanked itself from his grip, floating above his head.
Bendy stumbled backward, watching in stunned silence as the pages fluttered wildly.
Then, with an abrupt thud, the book dropped to the floor.
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Bendy frantically looked around.
"Did no one else see that?!"
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A quick glance confirmed it—other patrons were still lost in their reading, oblivious to what had just happened.
He turned back, staring at the fallen book.
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After a moment, he carefully picked it up.
And that’s when he saw it.
Words began forming on the pages.
What the…?
The ink swirled and shifted, twisting into letters he didn’t recognize. Some strange ancient language.
Yet when Bendy squinted, trying to make sense of it, it was almost as if he could read it... when suddenly...
The air shifted behind him.
“Whatcha doing?”
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Bendy yelped so hard he nearly jumped out of his boots.
The book flew into the air from his startled grip.
Spinning around, he barely managed to fumble it back into his hands, yanking it to his chest like a lifeline.
Cuphead stood there, smirking.
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Bendy’s face twisted in disbelief. “Y-You again!?”
Cuphead snorted. “I have a name, y’know.”
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Bendy scowled. “First off—WTF, dude?! Second—WTF, dude!? What, are you stalking me now?”
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Cuphead blinked, tilting his head.
“…Eh.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You don’t gotta tell me.”
Just like that, his interest vanished.
Weirdo.
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Bendy gave him a wary glance before cautiously peeking at the book again.
The strange script continued to unfold across the pages, the ink shifting like liquid shadows.
What is this…?
Cuphead leaned in slightly, peering over his shoulder only to squint in confusion.
“…So what’s up with the blank book?”
Bendy froze.
“…What?”
Cuphead pointed lazily. “It’s empty.”
Bendy looked down at the clearly not-empty book in his hands now. The words were still there moving, forming, changing.
His grip tightened around the cover.
“You can’t see it?”
Cuphead raised a brow. “See what?”
A chill ran down Bendy’s spine.
Cuphead raised a brow, “Well, whatever. Have fun with your ghost book.”
Bendy snapped out of it, scowling. “Ugh! Go away, creep!”
Cuphead only laughed, lazily strolling away to browse the section as if he hadn’t just traumatized Bendy twice in a row.
Bendy glanced around the library, his fingers still curled tightly around the book. He needed somewhere quieter, somewhere he could focus.
He spotted an empty table tucked in the corner, away from wandering eyes. Without hesitation, he hurried over, plopping down onto a wooden chair.
The book rested in front of him, still thrumming with an unseen energy. The words on the page continued to shift.
Something about it felt… familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it.
As he stared, something strange happened.
At first, the symbols were unintelligible, twisting and curling like foreign script.
But then his vision blurred for a moment, and suddenly, he could read them.
‘The first piece lies in the land of festivities. The old carnival.’
Bendy blinked, squinting at the page. Wait… what?
He didn’t know how, but he could understand it.
His fingers traced over the strange letters. Was this thing… rewriting itself in his mind?
Before he could process it further.
A chair scraped against the floor.
Bendy jerked his head up, scowling as Cuphead casually slid into the seat across from him, arms lazily folded over the backrest.
Still here!?
Bendy glared. “Oh, for pete's—dude, seriously!?”
Cuphead rested his chin on one hand, smirking. “What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’!?” Bendy hissed, lowering his voice. “You’re still following me around like some kinda creep!”
Cuphead tilted his head. “I’m just sittin’ here.”
Bendy’s eye twitched. “Uh-huh. Totally not watching me.”
Cuphead’s smirk widened. “Oh, I’m definitely watching you.”
Bendy groaned, rubbing his face. He flicked a glance toward Cuphead, only to notice something.
Cuphead’s eyes weren’t on him.
They were on the book.
Not in curiosity. In scrutiny.
Bendy instinctively shifted, pulling the book closer.
Cuphead leaned back, crossing his leg over the other. “So? What’s it say?”
“Nothing,” Bendy lied immediately, snapping the cover shut.
Cuphead just raised an eyebrow, looking deeply unconvinced.
“Uh-huh. Sure. Because staring at blank pages is definitely interesting.”
Bendy huffed, but inside, his mind was racing.
The old carnival…
The words rang in his head. The only carnival in town had been shut down for years. It was a crumbling, abandoned wreck now.
Why would some weird magic book be pointing there?
And why did Cuphead seem too interested in what he was reading?
Bendy’s grip tightened around the book.
He had a feeling. A bad one.
Scene 15:
Bendy hunched over the book, his voice barely above a whisper as he glared at Cuphead.
“Will you just go away already?”
Cuphead smirked, clearly enjoying this. “Nope.”
Bendy groaned, throwing a quick glance around to make sure no one was listening. He leaned in.
“Look, this ain’t got anything to do with you. So why are you still here?”
Cuphead lazily stretched, his smile briefly flashing in the dim library light. “Dunno. Maybe I just like watchin’ you squirm.”
Bendy gritted his teeth. This guy—!
“Ugh!” He slapped a hand over the book. “Can you at least stop staring at the book like you wanna eat it or something?”
Cuphead chuckled, tilting his chair back. “I mean… it does smell weird.”
Bendy stiffened, “Excuse me, WHAT.”
Cuphead tapped his nose. “It’s got a scent. Not normal paper. Smells… old. And like blood.” His grin widened. “And I know you have no idea what you’re messing with.”
Bendy bristled. “I am perfectly capable of handling a weird floating book, thank you very much.”
Cuphead hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure. ‘Cause that worked so well when it flew outta your hands and nearly knocked you out five minutes ago.”
Bendy’s eye twitched. “How about I knock you out with it!?”
Cuphead only grinned.
Before Bendy could actually throttle him, a new voice suddenly cut through their argument.
“Excuse me.”
Both Bendy and Cuphead snapped their heads up.
Standing near their table was a tall, sleek-furred black cat. A coat draped over his shoulders, a satchel hanging at his side, and a distinct air of quiet intelligence about him.
Bendy froze.
His brain stalled.
His breath hitched.
IT WAS HIM.
Felix the Cat.
Bendy nearly felt faint.
This wasn’t just some cat.
This wasn’t just any author.
This was his biggest idol.
The Felix the Cat—legendary adventure novelist, expert on the occult, and the guy whose books Bendy had practically grown up on.
Bendy’s mouth flapped open. His eyes sparkled.
“Y-you’re—!”
Cuphead, meanwhile, had an entirely different reaction.
His posture immediately shifted, going from casual amusement to sharp skepticism. His red eyes narrowed, his smirk gone.
“…Huh.”
Felix’s gaze flicked between the two of them before settling on Bendy. He studied him for a moment.
“That book you're holding...”
Bendy snapped out of his starstruck daze just enough to look down at the book in his hands. He swallowed hard.
Felix knew this book?
Cuphead’s gaze flicked between Bendy and Felix, then at the book. His fingers subtly curled against the table.
Something wasn’t right.
Felix tilted his head, expression unreadable. Then, with calm certainty, he asked.
“Where did you find it?”
Bendy didn’t know what to say.
Bendy fumbled for words, still caught between awe and sheer panic.
“Oh! Uh… in one of the shelves—”
Before he could even finish, Cuphead cut in, that ever-present smirk curling on his face.
“Do ya need somethin’ kitty?”
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Bendy snapped his head toward him, incredulous.
“Dude!?”
Cuphead shrugged, leaning back further in his chair, arms lazily draped over the backrest.
“What?"
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"You act like he’s some sorta famous person.”
Bendy gawked at him. “He IS!”
Cuphead barely reacted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
Felix let out a small, amused hum, adjusting the strap of his satchel. “Ah, I apologize for intruding, but I happened to overhear your conversation.”
“O-oh.”
Oh crap.
Bendy’s tail twitched as his mind went into overdrive. How much did he hear? Did he see the book glow? Did he—
Cuphead, meanwhile, remained completely unbothered. He waved a dismissive hand, head tilted back against the chair.
“Relax. He knows about us.”
The words left Cuphead’s mouth so casually that for a second, neither Felix nor Bendy processed what he had just said.
The moment it sank in, both Bendy and Felix whipped their heads toward each other, mutual shock flashing across their faces.
Felix blinked, composing himself quickly. He studied Cuphead, then Bendy, before arching a brow.
“Ah. Then I take it you’re already in the know about us?”
Bendy, still completely out of the loop, sputtered, “Wait, you’re—”
“Yup.” Cuphead cut in again, not letting him finish.
There was a reason he didn’t let him elaborate.
They were in a public place. No need to go throwing around the ‘V’ word where just any toon could overhear.
Felix picked up on it immediately. He nodded, subtly shifting his stance. Less cautious, more conversational.
Bendy, on the other hand, was still staring between them.
Cuphead had met Felix before—but not well enough to trust him. He knew the basics. Felix was one of the rare few who had managed to slip out from under the Devil’s control and vanish into hiding.
Unlike Cuphead, he hadn’t been dragged back into a deal gone wrong.
And unlike most others of their kind, Felix was actively looking for a cure.
A real one.
Cuphead had never ratted him out.
If there was even a chance that a cure existed—why wouldn’t he want to find it too?
Still, it wasn’t exactly trust that kept Cuphead from selling Felix out.
It was curiosity.
And Felix could feel that curiosity settling into Cuphead’s stare as they locked eyes for a moment.
The three sat in a strange silence.
Finally, Felix exhaled.
“Well,” he mused, a small smile on his face. “This certainly makes things… interesting.”
Bendy, still processing, let out a strained laugh.
“Y-you think?”
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Alrighty Folks! The Time Has Finally Come!
Hopefully this is everything and i didn't miss any panels or doodles for this post, but here is almost everything about BABVC's comic sketches, wips, doodles, refs, and even scripts i never finished, plus more! Doodles and other art stuff will be added to the end of this post. (Due to how many wips i have and such, there will be multiple reblogs happening as i go through this so bare with me.)
So, did you want to know how BaBvc would have went? Here's your answer. (This will contain a mix of the script, old comic wips and context)
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Now, well jump to where we left off in the comic with a smol refresher.
Scene 6 Nightmare:
It's dark and bendy is in a black like void. He hears voices.
"Why? You had a chance!" OB growls.
"Who's there!?" Bendy shouts.
"Why did you resist?" OB
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"What?"
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Bendy's eyes are suddenly covered by cold clawed hands. And he tries to pry them off.
"Why!?" OB
"What are you talking about?! Who are you!" Bendy growls trying to fight them off.
"Don't keep me waiting much longer" we see the claws retract and three tails around Bendy.
"I'm sick of waiting"
The last shot is of Bendy's demon cross eye.
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“But, how…?”
He hears a yawn from Boris as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “good morning, Bendy”
Boris blinks at Bendy’s hand and the bag, "You better not eat that so early in the morning, Bendy.” Boris scolded, ears pinned back.
“What? No, i wouldn't do that. But...” Bendy says, looking at the can thoughtfully. "Did you get some more after last night…?" He asked the tall wolf. Boris raised a brow at him, confused. 
"What do you mean?" He asked. "That's the same bag from last night when we went to the market right?" He asked. 
"Well yeah but, I lost it, remember?" Bendy said and looked up at his younger brother. Boris stares at him in confusion. "...You did?" He asked. 
Camera focuses on the can in his hand.
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Scene 8:
Bendy and Boris enter Berry cafe and take a seat at a booth.
"So you honestly don't remember?" Bendy starts looking across the table to his younger brother.
"I really don't. I only remember us getting the stuff, and then after that, it's all blurry. Like I blacked out or something, and then it was morning." Boris replied. "Are you sure you didn't just imagine you lost it? Maybe it was a dream that you had last night." He points out.
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"..." Bendy thinks, "Maybe you're right. I've been having weird dreams, and I guess it's possible." He says tiredly. "Though it really felt like I wasn't dreaming." He mumbled to himself.
Then Melody comes around shortly after and asks them what they would like to order. "Hello, welcome to Berry's Cafe. What would you - oh! It's you two, the usual then?" She smiles and lifts her paper and pen.
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Bendy lifts his head and gives a small smile. "Ah, yeah, for me, at least. Boris?" He looks over expectantly for his order.
"Oh! um, what's the special today?"
"New York cheesecake drizzled in strawberries and syrup, it's so good!" she smiles and hugs her notepad dreamily.
Boris perks at that smiling "Guess I know what I'm getting now, (haha) and can I get a hot coco with that, thanks Melody."
"No problem! I'll put your order in right away." She nods and walks away allowing Bendy to see the other residents in the cafe. And surprisingly enough he sees someone familiar. His eyes widened a little, shocked.
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(Isn't that-?)
Bendy looks at his right wrist and rubs it lightly.
(So it hadn't been a dream? I should probably thank him.)
Bendy stood, making Boris look at him. "Bendy?"
"I'll be back."
Bendy walks away and heads for the familiar person.
"Uh, Hey." he says. Catching Cupheads attention who opens his eyes. He looks a little confused and shocked to see Bendy for a moment.
"I wanted to say thanks for the other night you really helped me back there." Bendy says looking to the side awkwardly.
Cuphead says nothing for a minute. His shock turns to annoyance.
"Yeah, whatever, watch yourself, you're lucky I found you when I did." Cuphead says with a steady look. "Didn't your mom teach you not to walk around at night by yourself?"
"It's dangerous." He glares, narrowing his eyes.
Bendy furrows his brows at the semi aggressive tone. "Hey, I came to thank you, not get a lecture! And I wasn't by myself."
"..."
"Anyway like I said, thank you, seriously." Bendy frowned.
Cuphead stands up and looks down at Bendy, who looks up at him in return nervously as they stare at each other.
"Here you go sir, your order." Tostie says, giving Cuphead two drinks.
"Thanks," he says.
She walks away.
"There you are, Cuppy!" A new voice sounds in the cafe besides Bendy.
Mugs comes over and stands by his brother's side. Who gives him an exhausted look.
"Here." Cuphead hands him the second drink.
"Oh! Were you in the middle of something?" Mugs looks between Bendy and Cuphead.
Cuphead gives Bendy another glare.
"No. Let's go." He walks off, but Mugs falters and gives Bendy a nervous smile and a wave before he follows.
"Geez, what a jerk." (At least the other guy was nice) Bendy sweats but shrugs it off heading back to Boris.
"Was that someone you knew?"
"Uh, not exactly," Bendy says as he slides back into the booth.
It's silent for a moment before Boris speaks up.
"Bendy, listen, I know you're just as confused as I am, but you haven't told me a single thing about what happened last night, I was really worried about you."
"I know, I promise to tell you when I've made sense of it, ok? Just… give me some time."
Boris sighs, "...Ok"
Bendy looks away and out the window covered in fog with a thoughtful look. It starts to snow a little.
Scene 9
Cuphead glares ahead. (The hell? Did I not wipe his memory correctly? And what's with that weird smell?) He rubs his nose.
Mugman watches him, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Cuphead mutters. “I just need to go to the casino… again.”
Mugman frowns. “Huh? Why?”
“I’ll tell you later—unless you wanna come with me.”
Mugman hesitates, then nods. “Mmm… I’ll go with you.” Cuphead glances at him, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he keeps walking.
(Que this scene where they report to The Devil about Bendy being immune to memory wiping)
"Sir, I've come to report something." [Kneeling]
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"What is it?"
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"There's someone i met that's immune to memory wiping."
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"..."
"Is that so..."
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(Thus, The Devil orders Cuphead to keep an eye on Bendy and to report back if anything happens.)
Scene 12
Cuphead (bat form) climbs through the crack of the window in the kitchen. He hops to the ground and transforms back into his toon form. He dusts himself off and then looks up. Unexpectedly Bendy was in the doorway and saw everything.
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(Que a funny nervous Bendy stares and throws a mug at Cuphead.)
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Bendy runs to his couch and starts his spiel.
"What are you doing in my house!? Are you going to kill me!? You're a vampire! Aren't you supposed to stay out of houses unless you're invited!? Or something!?
"Huh?"
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"Wait a minute, vampires have other weaknesses! I think I have a few things!"
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Bendy runs out of the room, and Cuphead is left in confusion.
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"Okay...this is weird." -sigh-
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Bendy comes in and out with various "vampire deterrents"
"Garlic!?"
"No"
"A cross!?"
"Nope"
"A stake!?" (It's a twig)
"Na-da"
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"Sunlight!?" (Its a flashlight.)
"Did you forget you saw me at the café?"
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whatdoeseverybodywant · 2 days ago
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You're the Only Girl For Me - Chapter 33
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I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS
❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 
All OC Characters belong to me
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September 4th 2021 
Airielle jumped as Josh got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. She could feel Mercedes, Bianca, and Trin looking at her but kept her eyes lowered as she climbed out of the car. 
She felt like shit for accusing him of lying but there was no way Yara and Raymond would go through all that work to change the date of a video. Given, Airielle and Josh weren’t together but he also said that the only time he fucked her was at his apartment and that video definitely wasn’t at his apartment. 
When she entered the hotel lobby Josh was waiting for her by the elevator with a pair of her slippers. She didn’t even notice them when he got out of the car earlier.  “Thank you.” She whispered as he bent down to help her take off her boots. 
“C’mon Rih, I'm tired,” Josh mumbled as he stood up and held his hand out for her. She shook her head and stepped back. 
“I think I’m going to stay with Trin and Jon tonight.” She said then looked over at Trinity who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Can I stay with y’all tonight?” 
“Oh, uh…” Trinity trailed off between Josh and Airelle. Josh's jaw was clenched tight as he damn near stared a hole in the side of Airielle’s face. 
“Airielle -” 
“Josh I can’t okay? You’re angry and…” She paused and took a deep breath as an image of Christopher hitting her every single time he was angry at her came flashing in her mind. “I just can’t” 
Josh’s features softened as he noticed how her hands were shaking. He took a step closer to Airielle. “Rih, you know I’d never put my hands on you. No matter how angry I am.”  His voice was low and sincere, his eyes locking with hers as he spoke as if to remind her that she was safe with him. Airielle closed her eyes and nodded her head. She knew Josh would never lay a hand on her in that way but… she was still shaken. Christopher was still lurking around and her mother had shown up out of the blue. Airielle didn’t even know if she was in the right state of mind to make any decisions tonight.
“Okay.” Josh sighed, “You want me to bring your bag over there?” 
Airielle nodded and walked up to him. He immediately took her into his arms. “I’m sorry.” She whispered into his chest. He said nothing, just held onto her tighter. 
“I’ll bring your stuff over.”  He gave her one last longing look before pressing the call button for the elevator and stepping inside. As the elevator doors closed, he refused to make eye contact with her. Airielle sighed and looked over at Trinity who gave her a small smile. 
“It's gonna be okay friend.” 
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“You think I’m being stupid don’t you?” Airielle and Trinity sat on the balcony of Trinity and Jon’s hotel room, sharing a bottle of wine. 
Trinity sighed and sat her wine glass down. “Yes and No, You went through some traumatic ass shit and you haven’t really talked about it. But, Josh isn’t like Chris and I think you know this. He would never put his hands on you.” 
Airielle remained silent as she pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her head on them. “I don’t want to lose him Trin.” 
Trinity scoffed and set her wine glass down. She turned so she was facing Airielle.  “Girl, look at me.” Airielle sighed and lifted her head to look at Trinity. “That man loves you, sis. You could spit in his face and he would forgive you five seconds later.”  
“So what should I do?” 
Trinity huffed. “Girl.. go back to your room and apologize to your man. Like you told me the video was before y’all got back together and you don’t even know if they actually fucked. He was open and honest about the Tracy situation, why do you think he would lie to you now?” 
Airielle sighed and threw back the rest of her wine. She knew Trin was right. Josh had gone above and beyond to prove the lies Tracy had spewed were false so if he did sleep with Yara more than once, why would he lie about it? 
“What if -” 
“There are no what ifs” Trinity cut her off. “You have been through a lot when it comes to men and trusting them but Josh has been nothing but open with you. And if you're going to make this work, you have to let go of the past.”
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Josh awoke from his sleep at the sound of the hotel door being opened and closed. He hopped up from the bed ready to defend himself until he saw Airielle shuffle into the room. He watched as she set her duffle bag and suitcase down by the entrance.  He let out a sigh and sat back down on the bed. He looked at the alarm clock that was situated on the end table. It read 3:30 am. He had just closed his eyes about 10 minutes ago.
“Wassup Rih?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep. “I thought you were sleeping in Jon’s room tonight.” 
“I was.” She replied softly after a moment of silence. She cleared her throat and shuffled closer to the bed. “I talked with Trinity and she made me see how wrong I was - am,”  Josh said nothing and Airielle could feel his stare on her. Airielle hesitated for a moment, the weight of his silence hanging heavily in the air. She had come here to make things right, but now that she was standing in front of him, the words felt harder to say.
“Airielle” He started but she quickly shook her head and cut him off. 
“No please let me… just.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, finally bringing her eyes up from the carpet to look at him. He was still staring at her, what shocked her was how soft his eyes were, there was no indication that he was pissed with her.  He was looking at her like he always did, his eyes were full of love and understanding and it made Airielle feel worse. 
“I’ve been pushing you away since Abigail came back and… I know I hurt you and it wasn’t my intention. Earlier at the bar, I uh, when Raymond showed me that video I saw it as a way out. A way that would justify me running away and I’m sorry.” 
“I forgive you,” Josh said immediately. “We both did some shit to hurt the other person but let this be the last time Rih. I don’t know how much more I can take.”  Josh exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "I don’t want to give up on us, Rih. But I need to know that you’re in this with me, fully. No more pushing, no more walls between us. We’ve both got things to work on, but we can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep doing this.” 
“I’m here.” She said and she climbed onto the bed. “I’m in this, all the way. I don’t want to keep shutting you out. I want to be with you—fully with you. I don’t want to lose you.”  Josh opened up his arms and Airielle immediately shuffled over to him. When she finally curled into him, he let out a small, relieved breath, pulling her close and holding her against his chest.
“You not gon lose me Rih. Just let me be there for you. No more running, no more pushing me away.” 
Airielle nodded against his chest. Her tears ran down her face and onto his bare chest.  “I don’t want to lose you,” she said again, crying harder into his chest. I can't lose you.” 
It was like a light went off in Josh’s head. Airielle needed reassurance. She needed to feel secure in his love, to know, without a doubt, that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere. He knew he played a part in her insecurities with the whole Yara situation. 
He gently tilted her head up so she was looking at him, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. His voice was soft, but firm, the kind of voice that carried a sense of resolve.
“You’re not gonna lose me, Rih. I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. We’ve been through too much to just throw it all away. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you. Always. You’re my person, and I’m not giving up on us. Not now, not ever. I love you” 
“I love you too.” She whispered back and Josh smiled. He maneuvered them so they were lying down and she was still cuddled into his arms. 
“Next time you want some space from me, don’t go to Jon’s he already texted my phone talking bout he gon have two baddies in his bed tonight.” Airielle couldn't help but burst into laughter at his words, her head still resting on his chest. She lifted her gaze to meet his, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Was so close to going over there and dragging you back here.” 
She rolled her eyes with a giggle and leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you.” She said as she pulled away. “For giving me another chance.” 
Josh’s smile softened, his eyes looking at her with a mix of warmth and sincerity. He gently cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw as he leaned in to kiss her again, this time deeper and more lingering.
“You don’t gotta thank me” he murmured against her lips, his voice steady and sure. “I love you and I’m not going anywhere.”
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Authors Note: Omg.. look at them 🥹. So proud of Airiellle.
🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @empressdede
@harmshake @paigereeder @li-da-savage @nbanenefrmdao @theninthwonder
@raya-hunter01 @abadbitchblogs @jaethaone @mzv11 @shantinextdoor
@sadnni @Xmonetsworld @bebesobrielo @kill-the-artiste @Yana3sworld
@bookuce @sageispunk @amandairene88 @rianasixx @vebner37
@mindairy @saintaquarius @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @sayyestoheav3nn
@xbriexx @princess-saki1 @kat3457 @queeny23 @rebelrel0987
@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @fearlesschimera @mselenalovebug
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gemgdynamight0 · 2 months ago
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"thank you senpai.... for letting me live" THIS LINE ALWAYS MAKES ME WANNA SCREAM AND CRY STOP THIS
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drakkonyan · 2 months ago
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The future never forgets the events that shaped it The past awaits for better times to come
#something something parallels idk#I just think the way 17yo pearl is always talking about wanting things to change and to grow up because capcom doesnt know what to do w/ he#(besides ´´haha teenager likes shopping´ jokes)#combined by the fact Athena kinda has nothing going post DD because the writers wanted to make it the apollo and phoenix game#could serve as an accidental setting for a young adult discovery+healing from trauma plotline/theme#combined with the ever familiar parallel of being an oversheltered and somewhat pampered kids who lost everything they ever knew#due to a traumatic event and were then forced to an abrupt change from having no freedom to having no idea of anything#but the only thing unchanged is having no autonomy in the situation itself#could serve for something real cool yknow?#(that last bit is ever familiar to us pearlthena fans)#(yes this is ship art (im aroace all my shipart is characters just hanging out or being in agony together))#(no there is no middle ground(i have so much ship art ideas that are just character chatting(and then not ship art that is the same(idk))))#ace attorney#pearl fey#athena cykes#pearlthena#my art#artists on tumblr#illistration#dual destinies spoilers#aa5 spoilers#aa2 spoilers#long as fuck tags boi#BTW pls ignore the hair strand that comes out of nowhere I literally didn't realized I had read the sketch incorrectly until#a day later of posting#And it's eating me alive but I am soooooo lazy. And like I really didn't wanted to render it again. And I still don't so RIP that
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rookflower · 1 month ago
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a lot of "why are we hating on fernsong he's a good boy :(" energy pops up whenever people start getting more critical or petty about ivyfern but it's like. no i truly get it. he is her personalityless nothingburger heteronormative husband she was unceremoniously slapped together with for next gen kids, and the fandom LOVES him because of one scene that implies the bare minimum of decent fatherhood (not even shown on screen. doesnt come to fruition) that suddenly means their offscreen relationship is queering up gender norms or whatever and the best leap for feminism in the series. if i was an ivypool stan id be bitter about that too wtf
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one thing i really deeply wish is that i'd had access as a kid to the plural community and information that are more easily available today, instead of my first experience with plural community which both took it seriously and was nonjudgmental having been 10's era tul/pa.info lmao
#moogletalks#in some ways it was a wonderful community; and it taught me a lot of really helpful things#and made me feel validated and hopeful that This is a Thing That You Can Continue to Be and Develop in an Adult Life#instead of feeling like there was a time limit for when plurality stopped being Childlike Imagination and started being Craziness(tm)#(lots to unpack there lol)#.....in other ways not only was there Some Real Fuckery going on in the community in general; on an interpersonal basis#but i cannot overstate how horrifically toxic and damaging some of the things it taught me about plurality were#and how when i entered the phase of young adulthood where i realized the approach it had demanded of me was unsustainable to my survival#instead of having other perspectives on hand to go 'hey yeah you're not torturing your parts to death out of laziness if they go dormant'#'and/or if you don't spend hours of extremely grueling intensive work at minimum into maintaining them every single day of your life'#'and that if they dissolve into nothing because you Didn't Pay Them Enough Attention and you try to recreate them it won't be the same one'#'and if they DO actually come back as themselves they'll be horribly broken and traumatized and probably hate you forever'#'who the fuck told you that. oh my god?'#all i had to go on was 'either you're plural or you live an actual functional life in the real world; and i can't not do the latter atp'#and the result was repressing myself in an incredibly traumatic way i have just never fully recovered from even now#the fun cherry on top was that later when i *did* try to ask (very kind and well-meaning) plural ppl from another mental health community#if anything i described sounded familiar to their own experiences; or ones they had heard from other people#their response was pretty much 'idk that doesn't sound plural to me; i'm sorry; it's something where if you have it you know :('#me crying my eyes out for days afterward: obviously this reaction is bc i want to appropriate plurality to feel special#and am throwing tantrums at having the bubble broken by Reality#anyway. it's been a lot and yeah i really wish i'd had literally any other affirming plural community as a kid lol#ableism cw#internalized ableism cw#pluralitag#traumatag#adventures in mental illness#disabilitag
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cicidraws · 2 months ago
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i miss how i felt before this year.
#i always felt like shit before august but not like this much. im so tired of being chronically dizzy .it feelsl ike my brain is melting.#im constantly dizzy and my eyes cant focus my head and eyes dont feel centered#despite cuting out alot of things its not going away. i cant focus anymore. all i can do is lie down for somewhat relief.#i miss being able to focus on anything at all. and just to exist. even if i felt mentally like shit.#id give anything to feel normal i really would. i just wanna feel better. im not saying no to the doctor. i WANT to#but thers so much sickness risk. thats hteo nly thing stopping me from going. otherwise id go to the doc for every ailment#i need an MRI scan badly to check what hapened back in august. i need a scan for seizures aswell and a heart monitor.#i also need updated labwork for blood and everything. but these things are out of reach unless i go to a reg doctor.#and that exposes me and i cant stand it. last time someone actively had norovirus in the next room over and that same doctor#came up to me like nothing and confirmed it with me. didnt even wash her fucking hands. i was inconsolable and traumatized further.#i dont wanna be around anyone. i wish things were easier for me i wanna go to the doctor. i feel id rather die instead. i cant take this.#i would even take an EAR INFECTION which has deafened me over feeling like this. im not even kidding.#health issues /#venting in tags /#vent art /#vent doodles /#self scribbles -#cicidraws#deleting later- - //#im convinced i had a small stroke back in august and i havent been the same since. now i cant take aspirin. every time i do it worsens dizz#dizziness. i started feeling a little better at one point and took it and it restarted my dizziness again. im sure i have something going o#my anxiety because of feeling this way has been thru the roof and has not stopped being thru the roof. its so hard to calm down.
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timeisacephalopod · 1 year ago
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Admittedly I don't know much about the Israel Palestine war but I keep seeing news articles that refer to it as the Israel Hamas war and no it is not. After all Israel has done it gets to be referred to by it's country name and not "terrorists who kill babies and children at the speed of light" but Palestine gets reduced to Hamas?
It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth that the struggle of the Palestinian people keeps getting reduced to the existence of Hamas, but at no point does the ongoing state violence of Israel define its existence when by all means it should when my understanding is that the creation of Israel was stealing land from Palestinians. Why is Israel's violence ignored while Palestine is defined by the admittedly shit group that only arose out of decades of occupation and imperialism? Those two things are not the same and ignoring Israel's violence to act like Hamas came from nowhere just to hurt the poor Israeli government who acts like they've done nothing wrong is ridiculous to me.
#winters ramblings#a Palestinian coworker gave me some emails to send off things to so ill be doing that later#but like it just BUGS me when people will over focus on the REACTION to state violence and never ONCE bring up state violence#AS violence at all. also what israel is doing reminds me a LOOOOOT of what canada has done to your indigenous populations#so yes hamas suck ive seen some shit but heres the deal. im not as concerned about how much HAMAS sucks#when the EXISTENCE of hanas is the result if DECADES of ISRAEL'S state violence. what were Palestinians meant to DO??#just allow their homes to be stolen their people to be killed and their resources extracted with NO fighting back ever??!?#i dont feel the need to focus on how shitty Hamas is when this reactionary group wouldnt exist without the extreme violence#from israel that RESULTED in a deeply problematic group fighting back against them#you CANNOT step on the necks of a whole nation of people and expect them to do NOTHING#and when what they do is deeply flawed and often hurtful am i supposed to just IGNORE everything that led up to Hamas#by pretending state violence isnt NEARLY as bad as traumatized people fighting back against their oppressors??#like NO- state violence should be FRONT AND CENTER LOOOONG before any reactionary response to that violence#which if you ask me may be a deeply flawed and problematic response but im not expecting the people of an occupied nation#to be giving their best political performance and acting like we SHOULD just SMACKS of respectability politics#shut the FUCK up about Hamas and LOOK at what israel has DONE to the Palestinian people and FREE PALESTINE DAMNIT
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ask-cloverfield · 1 year ago
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or you could have a story that didn’t require juggling
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coridallasmultipass · 2 months ago
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#im gonna cry i went thru my back injury log diary journal note thing#i wrote out the important parts so i have a paper version with me for my appointment w the back specialist tomorrow#and im just so fucking scared man i dont want to have my back pressed on its gonna hurt so fucking badly getting prodded tmr#especially after the long car ride there#and i really dont want to be awake rn im so fucking scared but i still have to do my pt exercises tonight but like#fuck im scared i have no idea what the treatment is gonna be or if the doctor is gonna be mean#ive started seeing just a tiny bit of improvement over the last week but its so fucking marginal but its like#its a fact of life that im gonna hurt after my appointment#like hshahdjshks im panicking now lol fuck i dont want to do this#ive been waiting basically since MAY.#i dont want to be sober rn man i cant take anxiety pills this late bc i need sleeping meds more but im so fucking scared#i just wanna be able to sleep and not think about appointments#its fucking cold in my room too so all my whole body hurts rn i wanna get in bed but i HAVE to do the pt exercises#especially bc of the slight improvement like okay maybe the small exercises were what i needed#sucks that it takes an hour to do them all like im fucking freezing rn#just fuckk man#its been months of trauma so tomorrow is important and i dont want the months of waiting to be for nothing#im still in a lot of fucking pain rn too ofc but like im scared more rn#when am i gonna be able to relax#like genuinely relax#its like a whole struggle just to do the functions that keep me alive#im so fucking tired of everything#i know im prob gonna start panicking in the doctors office and not be able to voice my words#its so fucking hard to talk about how traumatic this whole year has been for me#it started w endo in january 2nd and then everything else after sucked lmao like ugh fuck theres too much weighing on the appointment tmr#delete later / /#personal / /#ShitPost.exe#medical / /
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anothermonikan · 5 months ago
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Man high school was fucked up. You ever think about that. Thank fucking god I'm not in high school anymore
#Sorry I need to turn a distraction video on or smth because my mind came back to#The very first experience I had of high school#And like my father had just dropped me off right. Yknow. Big massive new place I hadn't been before#And we went into an assembly hall right and my father called me like 5 minutes after#My phone was on silent and I took it out of my pocket for what. 5 seconds to dismiss the call.#Yknow a call from my parent who probably just wanted to make sure I got in okay#And in that 5 seconds a teacher just came over and took the phone off me#And then later on in the assembly the speaker was like 'We have a strict phone policy.'#'You're not allowed to use them outside of break unless explicitly asked' and the fucking.#Teacher who practically snatched my damn phone of me was like#'I have caught 5 students on their phones already. This is unacceptable behaviour in high school and you should already know'#Like. Holy shit I got it out for 5 damn seconds to dismiss a call from a parent who just wanted to make sure I was okay :sob: I was 12 yknow#Just something so. Fucked up about that. That's not a fucking expectation in the real world#Yeah don't be distracted by your phone while doing work in class but it was nothing like that :sob:#I'm willing to bet that most of the people who got their phone confiscated in that assembly were of similar circumstances to me#Yknow. Worried parents who just dropped their 12 year old off to a big unfamiliar place for the first time calling#You could've taught that lesson in the classroom if someone was actually distracted on their phone. Come on now#What Is with some fucking primary school and high school teachers having absolute power trips over actual children#Awful. I was thinking about it because my younger sibling has just gone back school#And their in their last year of primary school and they where telling me about like all the bullshit they're pulling#And I guess I just. Worry a bit. Because high school is genuinely a little bit fucking traumatic#I tell them all the time that most of the rules they set up in primary school and high school are kinda bullshit anyways#And to follow them simply to not get in trouble. But don't let them dictate how you act forever#Because you go through the whole of high school being told what to do by people who usually view you as a lesser being to them#And then you get to college and everything changes and it's gonna be weird as fuck finally being viewed as an equal#...especially if you're like me and engrained rules way too seriously#Sorry this is breaking the no emotional posting after 10pm rule but I think I can stand by this one#Okay I've made 6 begillion grammar errors I'm on mobile I can't change em#To everyone currently in high school: please fucking survive. It get's better. I prommy you#android.txt
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steviescrystals · 8 months ago
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just unlocked an insane memory (in the tags)
#there was this one day ​in fifth grade when all the boys were playing kickball or something at recess and two of them got in a fight#and one of them who we’ll call c (who happened to be the biggest/tallest kid in our grade) grabbed the other kid who we’ll call j#and literally shoved his head full force into a tree#and it was BAD j had a massive gash all down the side of his face and needed a ton of stitches#and he went to a different middle and high school but i saw him once like 3-4 years later and he still had a huge scar#anyway shortly after it happened we got a new seating chart in my class and i had to sit right next to c#and as a 10 year old girl who was like 4’4 and 90 pounds i was TERRIFIED like i was just so uncomfortable being near him#and i felt so fucking guilty about it bc c happened to be black so a part of me was like ‘i can’t be scared of a black kid that’s racist’#but like no?? i had a pretty valid reason to be scared of him and it had nothing to do with him being black??#anyway yeah i was terrified of this kid for so long but i swear everyone else we went to school with just forgot about the whole thing#like he was super popular in high school and i’m pretty sure he and j were even still friends#and i’m still confused by it like is it a guy thing to just be totally chill with someone after they bash your face into a tree#bc i didn’t even see it happen and it lowkey traumatized me for years#like i can’t stress enough how severely fucked up j’s face was and how many stitches he needed and how prominent the scar was way later#anyway. wherever j is now i hope he’s doing great he was one of the sweetest kids i ever met at that school#and c went on to become a soundcloud rapper in high school named double dippa chocolate and then moved to california so i’m sure he’s fine#crazy shit though that was one of the only fights that ever happened at any of the schools i went to#lj.txt
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autistichalsin · 6 months ago
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In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.
Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.
Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?
Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.
More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.
But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.
A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.
Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.
So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.
Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.
It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.
There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:
The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”
A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.
It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.
And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.
Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.
Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.
So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.
Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.
So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.
And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.
And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.
And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.
Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.
Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).
It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.
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thebibliosphere · 2 years ago
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Every time someone well-meaning suggests I see a chiropractor for my migraines, I have this little moment of "ah, you're new here. You weren't here prior to 2018 when a chiropractor very gently adjusted my neck for my migraines, and I ended up having to get an emergency MRI because the ensuing symptoms were indicative of a brain bleed."
It wasn't a brain bleed. The muscles on the entire right side of my neck "just" tore (Spoiler there is nothing "just" about that kind of traumatic injury. I am still in physical rehab for it), and I couldn't hold my head up, see straight, walk or do any of the things I'd previously taken for granted until several weeks later when the area finally started to heal.
This was before I knew I had Ehlers Danlos, btw. But this is true even for people who don't have a connective tissue disorder: Don't let chiropractors touch your neck.
There are a lot of vital nerves and blood vessels there, and even gentle adjustments of the area can have life-threatening consequences.
I know chiropractic care can be pain relieving--I still get it for my lower back and hips because I work with a chiropractor who knows about Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and sometimes my hips need to be popped back in at short notice, and it's easier to hop walk in and see her than wait for physical therapy--but it is a short-term relief that doesn't actually correct why something is happening.
If you can afford it, physical therapy will likely help more in the long term. I know not everyone can afford it, and that's why chiropractors have such a booming trade in the US, but please, I'm begging you, don't get your neck adjusted.
The spinal cord specialist I saw after my injury told me the number one reason he used to see people for traumatic brain injuries was car wrecks, followed by other major roadside injuries. He said those numbers were still the highest, but after that, the majority of his patients were survivors of chiropractic injury.
Do Not Get Your Neck Adjusted.
It's been over 5 years, and I still can't move my neck properly on my right side. I still struggle to eat and drink because my muscles will randomly seize up. It feels like my skull no longer fits on top of my spine because of the scar tissue. Please. I just want people to be safe.
And if you are a chiropractor reading this and thinking, "Well, I've never injured anyone, skill issue." No. You Have Gotten Lucky. Rethink how you apply your trade. Please, you can still help people while recommending safer options for specific body parts. Learn to do pressure point release and acupressure. Teach patients how to stretch and relax the area safely. Just fucking stop cracking people's necks like pop rock candy.
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utahimeow · 1 year ago
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“kenma?”
“hmm?”
he doesn’t take his eyes off the tv screen where he shoots at enemies left and right, but his ears are all yours.
“who was your first kiss?”
it’s become a habit of yours to watch his fingers move on the controller, long and thin and dexterous, wondering how he manages to move them in such a swift manner that to you seems impossible.
“didn’t have one,” he says, blunt.
“ever?”
“ever.”
“how?” you ask, both surprised and not—though now that you think about it, through all the years you’ve known him, he probably would have told you if he had.
“all i did in middle and high school was play volleyball and game. didn’t have time to kiss anyone. also didn’t care about it,” he admits.
you suppose if he wasn’t with you or kuroo, he was at home, playing video games. but there was that little obsession of his with shoyo hinata… so you guess it wasn’t a crush after all.
there’s only an ounce of hesitation behind what you say next, because yes, kenma’s your best friend and this could change the trajectory of your entire relationship with him, but also it’s kenma. kenma who you’ve shared a bed and clothes with, kenma who’s seen you at rock bottom and who’s wiped your snot and tears away when you were at your lowest, kenma who you’re attached at the hip with.
“what if i was your first kiss?”
kenma doesn’t falter at your words, not even for a second as he plays on expertly, nonchalant as always.
“uhh, why?” he asks, and you’re triumphant. if it was a ‘ew, no, what the fuck?’ then that’s how you’d know you fucked up. but it’s not.
“it kinda makes sense for me to be your first. also, i just wanna know what it’s like to kiss you,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders.
the next few moments are full of nothing but controller sounds and the music from the video game on the tv. in the faint glow that radiates from the screen, you make out a tiny dusting of pink on kenma’s pale cheeks.
eventually he gulps. then, “can we drink first?”
your mouth falls open with an insulted gasp and you have half a mind to smack him over the head.
“if you think i’m ugly you can say that, kozume,” you pout, crossing your arms.
“it’s not because i think you’re ugly, dumbass.”
“then why do you need to be drunk to kiss me?!”
kenma is silent again. he doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re staring at him utterly indignantly.
“because i’m too scared to look you in the eyes right now.”
oh.
now you get it.
kenma kozume is such a virgin. and you want him so incredibly badly. in fact you have to restrain yourself from jumping into his lap and kissing him until he can’t think straight.
instead you slide off the couch and head towards his fridge, grab two bottles of asahi and the bottle opener from the utensil drawer before padding back over to the couch, sitting an inch or two closer to kenma than you were before.
you click one bottle open for him, then one for yourself, then without a hint of hesitation you take a confident swig until you’re near chugging the drink.
“chill,” kenma says, side-eyeing you after taking a swig from his own bottle. “don’t want you pulling a himeno on me.”
you let out a noise that’s half-scoff and half-laugh, smacking at his arm. “don’t joke about that. that scene was traumatic.”
two bottles of beer later, kenma’s in-game reflexes start to waver. he’s no longer as sharp as usual, though his tipsy state still trumps the skills of an average player. meanwhile, your head floats with the buzz of alcohol—well, it hovers.
“kenmaaa,” you whine, shaking his arm, when all of a sudden his character is shot to death and the screen pauses as if to deliberately rub his defeat in his face. you stifle a giggle while he runs his hands over his face, though you’re pretty sure it’s not because he lost.
“what?” he asks, but he fails at conveying any real irritation towards you. his voice is small, frail almost.
“i wanna kiss you,” you say. your fingers still cling to the fabric of his hoodie sleeve. kenma’s entire body burns from it. he’s so fucked.
“okay, fine,” he says, turning his body to finally face you and criss-crossing his legs on the couch. “this feels awkward though, how are we-”
and you’ve waited long enough for this, and the alcohol that buzzes through your system makes you throw all your morals out the window, and you’re grabbing him by fistfuls of his hoodie and dragging him towards you until your lips smash—literally—together, and finally he shuts up.
you’re not sure what overcomes you, but you’re kissing him like you’re hungry, not quite ravaging him, but years of yearning deep inside of you bubbles to the surface and fills you with desperation.
also, you’re tipsy.
it’s not long before you come back to your senses a little and remind yourself that this is just his first kiss. go easy on him, maybe?
you move away, slowly, as though trying not to startle him, to find a pair of golden feline eyes blinking back at you. they’re swimming with something unintelligible, something akin to… need? you think you must be seeing things. you’re tipsy, after all.
the silence that hangs over the pair of you is heavy—too heavy. it hurts your shoulders. you laugh so that it goes away, covering your face as though kenma’s timidness was contagious and has now spread to you.
eventually, when you peer back up at him, he’s grinning almost… triumphantly. despite the blush that covers his entire face, he looks victorious. his face replaces any words he could say, and he turns back to his game without a word.
you, however, struggle to keep your thoughts to yourself.
“can we do that more often?” you ask, leaning your frame against his, nuzzling your face into his warmth.
“yeah, we can.”
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