Jett Buendia

Hey, whatever it means to you
Know that everything moves in circles.

ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ⓿➋
ıllıllı 𝙴𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝙱𝚕𝚞𝚎 ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴀɴʙᴇʀʀɪᴇs ıllıllı.... ᴅᴀᴛᴇ 𝟶𝟽.𝟶𝟹.𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟾
[CW: Death, Grief, Su***de]
[ 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 ]

⠀⠀ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀɪᴄ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇs, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ
⠀⠀ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀɪᴄ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇs, ᴡʜᴏ sᴇɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ
⠀⠀ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀɪᴄ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇs, ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ
⠀⠀ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀɪᴄ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇs, ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ

⠀⠀ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴇᴜs
⠀⠀ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴀᴅɪᴜᴠᴀ ᴍᴇ
⠀⠀ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴇᴜs
⠀⠀ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴀᴅɪᴜᴠᴀ ᴍᴇ

Dumah can’t drive, so instead he asked reception to get him a taxi.

Arriving at his father’s room in Makati Med, a doctor greets him and tells him about his father’s condition, that he’s fine but he should avoid strenuous activities, and that she gives her condolences. Dumah nods cordially but she frowns, eying his earphones and wondering if he heard it at all.

The car ride home was mostly silent. His father in the front seat instructing the driver where to turn, sometimes Dumah thought he was looking at him in the rear view mirror but when he checks he looks away.

When they finally arrive at their condo, Dumah got out of the car and dutifully held his father by the arms.

“Dad, alalayan ko po kayo…”

His father still doesn’t meet his eyes, and doesn’t say a word even when they get to their unit.

“I’ll make dinner,” Dumah says, and the older man finds his way to the sofa and sits down.

“You don’t want to go to your room and change?” Dumah asks, but as if the other man was the one with headphones on he only turns on the television.

Although Dumah is used to not hearing much, though the music is the closer voice than his father’s, this silence unsettles him, and he wonders if he should sit down next to him and if they could talk… but what would he say?

The accident, the death, it was sudden and violent. They investigated it, and chalked it up to negligence for driving in such harsh weather, so there was no insurance to cover it. Dumah wanted to mourn his mother with his father, but things have not been the same since the incident at Nathan Hale.
•♫•♬• ~

Just as Dumah stepped forward to give conversation a go, his Father’s cellphone rings.

Blankly staring at the screen, Dumah feels like the decision was made for him and he turns around to the kitchen without saying a word.

Click.

‘Adam?’

“ ‘Toy…”

On the other end of the line, Tadeo breathes a drawn out sigh of relief.

“Kamusta ka?" his voice caves in. "Sinubukan kitang tawagin 'nung isang araw, pero hindi ka pa daw gising. Hindi ka ba kinausap ng nurse? Bakit hindi mo ako tinawagan?"

"Meydo nalilito pa ako nung nagising ako. Sinundo ako ni Dumah, ayoko makita niya na tinatawag kita... Baka may tanong pa siya."

There is a sound, as if the other was about to say something, but instead a heavy silence follows.

‘ Kailan yung wake ni Lian? Pwede ako dumaan diyan.’

"Naririnig mo ba sarili mo, ‘Toy? Pagkatapos ng lahat ng ginagawa natin, dadalaw ka sa libing ni Lian...?” he laughs, “Alam mo, baka karma lang talaga na buhay pa ak𝘰. 𝘈𝘬𝘰 𝘱𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘸𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘪 𝘋𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘩 𝘯𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘴𝘢, 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢! 𝙎𝙞𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙖 𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙣 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣 𝙣𝙞 𝙇𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙮𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙖 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙖𝙝𝙖𝙩…!"

His voice was climbing, but even then Dumah couldn’t hear what he was saying in the other room.

“Ito rin ba yung sinasabing ‘sumpa’ ng Matandagat? Kasama ba siya dun? 𝙃𝙖𝙝, 𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖 𝙣𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙜𝙖 𝙠𝙤, 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙤 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙡 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣 𝙣𝙤? ₣Ʉ₵₭—!”

‘Tangina Adam. Kaibigan ko rin si Lyan. Nangyari na yung nangyari sa'tin, hindi 'yon yung dahilan kung bakit namatay yung asawa mo!’

Tadeo’s words fell like a weight on Adam’s shoulders, catching in his throat.

‘At pwede ba 'wag mong pag-usapan si Dumah ng ganyan! Pinili mo siya! Ampon mo 'yan! Ikaw na nga yung nakapagdesisyon kung sino magiging anak mo, hindi mo pa mapanindigan? Alam mo kung gaano akong ipinahinakit ng tatay ko.’

Adam’s fist tightened on his knees. He remembered, of course, and he told himself he wouldn’t be like Tadeo’s father. Like his own, or his wife’s. That blood of the covenant was thicker than water of the womb, and that adopting a child was an act of love, and not an obligation like every backwards family made it seem like.

But with Dumah…

“...babalikan nalang kita, ‘Toy.”

‘Adam—’

Dumah can’t quite hear it, but he feels the clatter of something heavy on the floor from where he stands in the kitchen. Knife raised mid-chop, he turns back and places the blade on the counter before wiping his hands against a towel and peeking into the dining room.

He sees two of the chairs turned over on their side against the wood-tile floor, his father standing still, shoulders rising and falling gently as if he was out of breath, the phone left face down on the table.

“ ...Dad…? ” Dumah asks quietly.

He wants to ask him if he’s okay, but he knows he isn’t. Adam doesn’t turn around, and waves his hand as if to tell him to get back to what he was doing.

Dinner is even more silent than the car ride, and for days it seems like they are cohabiting ghosts.

At the Wake, Adam greets the mourners, a small crowd of coworkers and acquaintances. Most of Lillian’s friends are back in the States, and many don’t approve of him or his son. Both himself and Lillian were estranged from their families. Adam didn’t want her buried in Matandagat, and she did not want to be buried back home in Wisconsin, so they buried her in Loyola. To see such a quiet and empty departure from this life reminds Adam how small their world was.

How suffocatingly claustrophobic it had become in recent years.

“Again…tragedy just follows you around, huh?”

He spoke the words through clenched teeth during the drive home. Reluctant tears rolling down his cheek as fast as the park disappears from view.

Dumah doesn’t cry. He holds back tears like a scolded child trying not to make things worse, but he also feels his chest tighten like it was burning. He wants to tell his father that was not the right thing to say. He wants to be angry, maybe even hateful for being blamed, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll go back to the dorms tomorrow…” he says shakily, “Then you’ll never have to see me again.”

The silence that follows is different from the one before, and Dumah turns up the volume of music to drown it as thoroughly and as violently as he can.

Adam chokes a laugh and says nothing more.

They have dinner in separate rooms, and they don’t say goodnight.

Lying awake, Adam hears music faintly rise from somewhere outside his bedroom, and he knows that the boy’s sleeping pills are taking effect. He thinks about the rectangular hole his wife’s body was lowered into earlier that day, and Adam feels his own body sinking into the soil and pretends that dirt is what muffles the sound instead of concrete and plaster. He disappears, he pretends. He dies, he imagines.

He manifests being buried along with what he thinks are the last traces of affection he had for his son. The last good memories he had with the family he built.

A life that slowly collapsed since the day he met the blonde little boy in San Jose, looking up at him and his wife shyly clutching a walkman in his hands.

𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪 𝘮𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘺𝘢! 𝘏𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪 𝘮𝘰 𝘱𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯?

𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸…𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

Is this… really how it all ends?

The thoughts sends him gasping and reaching out from beneath his covers. A cold sweat, like woken from a nightmare, he gasps and shakes his himself awake. He massaging his eyes as he feels the pieces of himself crumbling and falling away.

He doesn’t know where all the love he had in himself has gone, it feels like something drenched in murk and left to turn dusty with neglect. But, in a moment of epiphany he feels a visceral fear of becoming a man who is unable to love or trust ever again. A fear and realization that maybe he is becoming his own curse, a son who has inherits the sins of his father.

𝘞𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺, he once told that blonde little boy, 𝘞𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

He did not want to become a liar.

Without putting on slippers, he walks down the hallway to Dumah’s room. The door isn’t locked, the door was changed so that they only lock from the outside. Something Dumah insisted on.

When he enters, he can feel the Cranberries blasting their noise against the wall. His eyes land on Dumah lying with back flat on his bed with his face turned to the wall, his breast rising and falling with the labouring swell and lull of a deep but restless sleep.

It had been years since he walked in on Dumah sleeping. The first few times, it scared him and Lian, unsettled them. They didn’t like seeing it, and maybe pretending they did not mind was part of why the distance between each of them grew.

“Dumah….?”

SNAP.

Dumah’s head turns sharply, eyes wide as the moon, unblinking.

Adam flinches, back pressed against the door. Feet planted firmly in place, he stares back as if he’s seen a ghost. He’s never done 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.

“A…anak….?”

The blonde boy remains unblinking as his mouth slowly, agonizingly—with the sound of stretching leather—pulls taut with a foul toothy grin.

⠀⠀ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢᴏ, ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ
⠀⠀ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢᴏ, ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ
⠀⠀ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ, ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ
⠀⠀ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏ ғᴇᴀʀ

The next day, Adam delos Santos is nowhere to be found. Nor the next day, or the day after.

A man who regularly cleans the graves in Loyola Memorial testifies seeing Adam shooting himself in front of Lillian’s grave.

The witness testifies that when Adam pulled out the gun, he had tried to talk him down, but right before pulling the trigger Adam only had time to turn to him and say these words:

G̶od ̵do̵esn̴’̴t̵ sa̷ve̵ ev̷er̸y̵one̸.

⠀⠀ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴇᴜs
⠀⠀ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴀᴅɪᴜᴠᴀ ᴍᴇ
⠀⠀ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴇᴜs
⠀⠀ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴀᴅɪᴜᴠᴀ ᴍᴇ

________________________________
[ sc not found ]

[[ Hello I accidentally delayed this post but I meant for it as a break week open, so I will post this blank first and make it my open post Thursday na pala luh.

All threads can be set anytime 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 March 14. Dumah will focus on other personal stuff and thesis from then on, possibly undergoing psychological trauma. Can’t wait. ]]

Araw na umaangat
Araw na lumulubog
Nagtagpo sa kalagitnaan
Sa isang sandali, magkaugnay

▍ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ 　𝚂𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙶 𝙱𝚄𝙷𝙰𝚈 𝙰𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙿 𝙺𝙾
▍ʀᴇᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ 　𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝
▍ᴠᴀʟɪᴅɪᴛʏ 　𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Mapula-pula yung buhok mo sa araw ah, Ricci,” napakomento si Tadeo. Pareho silang nakaupo sa sala, nagbabasa sa sopa. Hawak ni Ricci, Pl***oy magazine. Si Tadeo naman, yung pinakabagong Precious Hearts Romances.

“Oo, pinalaminate ko kasi,” sagot ni Ricci. Hinaplos-haplos niya yung buhok niya. Akala mong nasa Pantene commercial siya. “Five-hundred pesos lang yan.”

“‘Di bagay sa’yo.”

“Bruha ka,” ngumisi si Ricci at tumawa ng malakas. “Inggit ka lang kasi kinakalbo ka na.”

“Kumusta yung libro?”

“Akala ni Valencia may kabit si Alejandro, kaya pina-imbestiga niya. Ayan. Yung kasambahay nila si Bernadette yung dinidiligan niya ng patago.”

“Mabubuntis yan,” ‘ika ni Ricci.

“Nagmamahalan lang sila,” sagot ni Tadeo.

Binuksan niya yung susunod na pahina. Tumaas yung kilay niya.

“Ay, buntis nga.”

“Di kasi niya pinutok sa labas," nagsenyas si Ricci na parang may minamasahe siya na tubo. Ihinagis ni Tadeo yung libro sa ulo niya.

“Hoy! Pavirgin ka! Alam ko kung bakit ka natagalan sa kubo noong lunes!”

“Sasabunutan kita!”

May lagutok na palapit ng palapit. Pareho nilang hindi pinansin hangga't sa may biglang tumabi kay Tadeo na isang mabalahibong a*o na kulay dilaw.

"Narinig yata niyang nag-aaway tayo," sumandal ng palusong si Ricci habang pinapahiran yung ulo ng a*o. "Hi baby!"

"Ikaw Ricci, sa susunod wag kang mag-uuwi ng askal dahil lang nilapitan ka niya sa tabing dagat!"

"Eh ikaw, kailan mo iuuwi jowa mo?" humirit si Ricci.

Muntik na niyang hinagis yung tasa na hawak niya.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

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Out it rang, a familiar tone
On my thirty-one-ten Nokia phone
A reading so strange, its feel sublime
Did Inspector Tadeo just drop a sick rhyme?

An invitation to the sand, and the ocean across
Maybe the sunset to me will mean more than a girl's loss

❛ 𝐏𝐀𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐀 ❜
▍ᴄᴀᴛᴇɢᴏʀʏ 　𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝙴𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚍𝚎
▍ᴠᴀʟɪᴅɪᴛʏ 　𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟷𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟼
▍ᴄʟᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ 　𝚂𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗*

┈ ┈

[ 𝟷𝟶:𝟶𝟶 ]

👓: 𝘄𝗮𝗴 𝗸𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻!!!
👓: 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝗸𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗻𝗶 𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗲
👓: 𝗽𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗮 𝗸𝗮 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁
👓: 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗯𝗮 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗻
👓: 𝗺𝗮𝗴-𝗶𝗺𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗮 𝗸𝗮 𝗿𝗶𝗻 𝗻𝗴 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗴𝗮𝗻!

No one had ever seen Tadeo use this many exclamation marks in his texts before. This was unprecedented. His pure excitement was palpable through the screen. You could see him now, stone-faced, deadpan in his smooth delivery of the words: '𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.' The man practically couldn't keep himself together.

It was a sunny and windy day, the perfect weather for the beach. The 30°C heat was tempered easily by the occasional cold front coming from the ocean. The sand was scorching hot and the water was refreshingly crisp. There were barely any clouds in the sky—just blue, blue, blue.

Tadeo and Diane were standing underneath a palm-frond open canopy. The long table in front of them was covered in bright green banana leaves and a huge, steaming pile of food: Garlic rice, grilled meat, fresh watermelon, salted eggs, red cabbage. The delicious carnage never stopped.

Under the table was a large cooler, no doubt full of water, soft drinks, and bottles of beer. Nearby was a charcoal grill that was still smoking. You could see some stray plastic bags sitting around fattened up with chocolate bars, bags of chips, and marshmallows. This party was 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡-𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙙.

After the events of Saturday, it felt necessary.

┈ ┈

❈ 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙼𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚜

1. You can make an unlimited amount of threads.
2. You can create [𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡] and [𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗗] threads.
3. For inclusivity, please keep narrations in english.
4. If you want to narrate in filipino, include translations.
5. Translating dialogue is encouraged but not required.
6. Side-characters can interact unaccompanied.
7. Side-characters can start their own threads.
8. Timestamp threads accordingly. This lasts all day!
9. Feel free to HC contributing to the food or games.
10. You can hold a thread secluded from everyone. ;)

* 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗺𝗶-𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁. This means invites were sent in-character to select individuals, but they are all welcome to invite any more people they want. Anyone can also drop in without an invite simply by coming upon the event by chance.

❈ 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚎

The event formally starts IC at 10:00 AM and ends late into the evening. There is no definite time frame. This post will be open indefinitely and there will be no formal closing, so take your time writing and have fun!

┈ ┈
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What do you live for, Inspector? Do you find your freedom riding along the hills on your motorbike, or do you find it here, where the quiet meadows reek of blood?

▍ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ 　𝙱𝚄𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙱𝚄𝙷𝙰𝚈 𝙺𝙾 𝚃𝚄𝙽𝙶𝙺𝚄𝙻𝙸𝙽 𝙺𝙾
▍ʀᴇᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ 　𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝
▍ᴠᴀʟɪᴅɪᴛʏ 　𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍

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　Sanay na ako na walang inuuwian. Walang inaasahan. Nakakaluwag ng dibdib ang isang kahon na alam mong walang laman: Walang nakakagulat. Pero wala ring nakakamangha.

　Mas gusto kong hindi nagugulat. Pagod na ako sa parating bago. Buong buhay ko na yung trabaho ko — kasi araw-araw pareho. Hindi niya ako mabibigo. Kung may mangyari man na masama, ako lang ang masisisi.

　"Tignan mo 'tong si Inspector Tan. Matutulog nanaman sa presinto. Biyernes ng gabi wala siyang balak gumala? Wala ba 'yang kaibigan?"

　"Pare naman, alam mo naman yung sagot diyan," tugon ng kanyang kapwa pulis. Binaba niya ang kanyang boses at nagkunwari siyang seryoso. "Pabagal lang ang kaibigan."

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𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

　𝘐'𝘮 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰. 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰. 𝘐𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺: 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

　𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸. 𝘔𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳 — 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦.

　"𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘢𝘯. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴? 𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴?"

　"𝘊'𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵," 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. "𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯."

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[ img src : ]

Come hither to the rose's call, and let the music guide you.

[Masterpost]

[Yo! This is where you should drop all your requests for threads or to notify me to reply. Or if you have a thread idea, but you're short on time or pagod ka lang (same here, pare), we can headcanon our interaction.

I'll treat you to some chicken inasal too if you want. Ate Kali makes the best chicken inasal.]

[Art by Mikkoukun]

Two siblings drift about the town. He goes around, capturing the beauty of the present. She does the same, though one cannot tell if she's chasing the past, or running from it.

[ Weekly 1 Open ]
[ Feb. 20, 2006 - Feb. 25, 2006 ]
♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

This will serve as our open post for the first week of the rp proper. If you want to request a thread with any of our two characters, feel free to let us know!

Notable places that you may (but not limited to) finding them if you want to catch them around town:

Lu - Early morning peddling papers, street hawker part-time jobs, doing errands for people in town, exercising

Additionally, not easily found alone after dark

Pon - Schedule very sporadic. Galang bata yan (tho not a kid, technically). You can almost find him anywhere during the day, and at even weirder places at night. (Just take note of time stamps if he is in other threads. He may be gala, but he doesn't have teleportation powers;;;)

At the height of people traffic in town, he is easily seen observing people and snapping candid shots.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧
src: twt

They say you pay for your crimes with your freedom. I disagree.

The true price you pay is time. Precious days, months, years, drifting by slowly and out of your reach. Precious time that you could have spent with the ones you love, slowly dying before your eyes.

[ Weekly Open Post ]
[ Week 1: Feb. 20, 2006 - Feb. 27, 2006 ]

Raf couldn't sleep. It wasn't because he was far away from home. No, he was used to this. He's been in jail for almost 3 years now and counting. He couldn't sleep because he had been thinking.

Lyan told him that they could try for parole but Raf thought it would be a waste of money if they did. His sentence was for six years, he's already at the halfway mark, what was an extra three years?

It may not feel as long for him but it was worth a lot for his siblings who always seemed to be waiting and hoping that they could let him out earlier than expected. Though, Lyan had been adamant when she visited, that they should try for parole and get him out of there. When he asked if something happened, all Lyan could tell him was that more people had gone missing and that was more than enough for him to figure out why Lyan wanted him to come back home already.

Lyan, among their family of four, was the scaredy cat. If you compared them all to dogs then she was the one who would hide under the car and never move away from that spot. Raf had always taken care of her--- of all of them --- but he was stuck in jail and Lyan had to step up. Raf was sure that Lyan doesn't say anything to their younger siblings, the fact that she was getting more scared; without Raf as a safety net, she had to be that but Lyan couldn't be that for her siblings.

They needed their brother because they only had each other. Their parents were alive but in the eyes of the siblings they might as well not exist the moment none of them ever followed what they wanted for their children. Without him, who was going to protect them then? That had been Lyan's question but the only answer Raf had was 'you.'

If he wasn't there then Lyan had to play the part. That was his answer but not the one Lyan wanted. So here he was staring at the ceiling and listening to what the other inmates were whispering in the dead of night. He was wide awake even if he should be sleeping, wondering if his family was going to be fine without him.

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Link to their Masterpost: https://www.facebook.com/baryalangposamatandagat/posts/pfbid021hK1PooSL8hSr2L8ba8aJeiVJFw73vCFuneNWFjyg7mJf8kTx1JCfmrsjnUoj8WBl

Character Availability: Everyone is available but Raf can only be visited in the Batangas Municipal Jail!

RPer Reply Rate: Slow replies for Page RPs!

____

[ sc: Unknown ]

The boy stood in doubt of himself. A living reflection, his very humanity in doubt.

The tragedy of Salamangkero's son.

[ 𝑾𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒍𝒚 𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 ]
[ 9/12 - 9/18 ]

Iɱρσʂƚσɾ.
That which returned was not the same one that departed.

Covered in dirt and grime, the boy awoke to the blinding flash of a searchlight and the cacophony of police sirens. He was safe and sound, unscathed save for the loss of time and orientation. He did not feel any different from his usual self, but he knew that there was a part of him missing, a gaping hole in his psyche.

When he was returned to the custody of his parents, his mother took one look at him and scowled.

"Hindi ito ang anak ko," she declared with such fervor, such vitriol. One would be compelled to believe it. "Ano ang ginawa mo sa anak ko!? Sino ka?" He felt the rush of fear and confusion as his mother shook him profusely, mired in the belief that her son had been replaced by an impostor.

"IBALIK MO SA AKIN ANG ANAK KO!" She demanded as she was pried away by her husband. "IBALIK MO!"

Something died inside him that day.
A vestige of pain, a seed of doubt.

They managed to placate her, but from then on, the young boy felt like a stranger in his own house. His mother became scornful and neglectful, coupled with the father who was mostly flitting between Batangas and Samar for some so-called business, his home life and mental state deteriorated.

It did not help that the locals sowed rumor after rumor of the Boy-Who-Returned, of the child who was spirited away into the mythical city of engkantos, or of the alleged changeling shapeshifter that took his place. The rumors flew around for months, hounding the Salamancas from the beaches of Catarman to the lofty churches of Leyte.

Am I Really Who I Am?
He would often ask, second-guessing himself.
Was he truly an impostor? He did not feel like it, but there had to be some semblance of truth to it? He remembered the dream, of the colors and banquets, of the black rice and the white rice.

But what happened after?
. . . . .

Chico stood in front of a bathroom mirror.

Silence, save for the soft hum of the toilet, and the distant ramblings of the radio in the living room. He looked to his left, a note from his aunt to always brush his teeth.

He touched the top side of his lips.
An absent philtrum, oft a sign that one wasn't human. He did not remember if he was born with it, or had acquired it after the incident. Only that it seemed much more glaring in the last few years.

He touched the right side of his chest.
The beating of a heart aligned out of place.
After the incident, the doctors treating him discovered that he had situs inversus totalis. His insides were flipped, a mirror image of the normal human anatomy. He did not know if he was born with it, or had acquired it after the incident. Only that it seemed much more glaring in the last few years.

Chico stood in front of a bathroom mirror.

𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎?

Pixiv | 101066029

Daughter of a dynasty who made their name as healers of this land, you have come far to find your way home.

You faced adversity. You faced discrimination. You faced patriarchy itself to find your calling.

Can you face what's coming next?

〘𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 + 𝐓𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐧 〙

Name : Marianne ‘Mayan’ Lee
Chinese name : Li Changyu 李 昌钰
Age : 25
S*x : Female
Nationality : Filipino
Ethnicity : Full blooded Chinese
Occupation : First year general surgery resident
Height : 5 foot flat

Likes : Sweets, Butterflies, Beautiful things
Dislikes : Alcohol, Machismo, Failure

Marianne ‘Mayan’ Lee is the only child of a branch from the great Lee family. A large wealthy Chinese family based mostly in Manila but with long standing ties to Matandagat. Some of her ancestors had first arrived in Matandagat during the Spanish colonial era, they were businessmen and entrepreneurs. When their riches expanded under American colonialism they migrated to Manila and founded a stronghold for themselves. By intermarrying and integrating themselves into the Chinese community they became a prominent family.

They did not forget their roots to Mantandagat though and continued to invest in the town’s medical care. They donated to the hospital, helped fund public health programs and if they did such during or close to election sea*on well…It was merely how the world kept turning.

The Lees also bought and maintained a countryside villa made out of stone in Tabindagat complete with all the necessary luxuries and amenities. It has become a place where family members occasionally go to visit and relax if they do not vacation abroad.

Of the branch families the only one that has rea*on to return to Mantandagat is Marriane ‘Mayan’ Lee the only daughter of Jonathan Lee and Audrey ( nee Cu ) Lee. Both Jonathan and Audrey work in the medical-business industry. With Audrey working for Melia Incorporated one of the top pharmaceutical distributors in the Philippines and Jonathan managing several branches of St. Angel’s hospitals

Mayan lacked for nothing when she was growing up. Her parents provided her with the best opportunities and the best education their wealth and prestige could buy. They developed her talents asking her to choose one sport ( she chose gymnastics) and one musical instrument (violin). Mayan lived a happy uneventful life in Manila, sometimes vacationing in Mantandagat when she did not spend her school breaks in other places. Truth be told, she enjoyed Matandagat for its quiet and simplistic life.

She was a bright child. Assisted by the many tutors her parents could afford, Mayan constantly received honors in her class. She had the more than necessary grades to apply and be accepted into UP College of Medicine. However this is when her life became less than pleasant.

Mayan’s family name and sweet smiling disposition protected her for the most part against misogynistic discrimination. Though it is early in the twentieth century and women are more and more accepted into the medical fields, there are certain specializations with skewed populations. Surgery being a male dominated field, many did not take kindly or perhaps even felt threatened by a petite pretty woman with stellar grades. She was one of the top ten of her class after all and knew she deserved it.

It escalated to the point where Mayan received death threats and a letter detailing other unspeakable violences. An investigation was launched and Mayan was instructed by her parents to lay low and wait out the media storm to blow over. Hence Mayan applied for her first year residency in Matandagat, intending for this to be a temporary stay.

Mayan now lives in her family’s villa, with a housemaid to do housekeeping for her. When she needs to go somewhere for work or for pleasure she is not above using public transportation, driving herself or hiring a driver.

SIDE CHARACTERS :
------TO COME :

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[[ Chiya_kagamine ]]

Kindness and sweetness in equal measure lie behind his name. I hope your work in the fields made you strong, young friend. This coming of age may be more than you bargained for.

❅❅ 𝙻𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚎-𝙸𝚗𝚜 ❅❅
✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢

✄⥤⥤⥤⥤⥤

𝙂𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙖!

Welcome to Oreo’s lore tie-ins where you can suggest or request a tie-in between Oreo and any of your characters. Let us know what story you have in mind.

To find out more about Oreo and his family, you may read his timeline story below. This also contains information about the two other members of the Mabait family, Toni and Nanay Ems.

Feel free to comment anywhere in the post. You may also let us know if you have any questions.

𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙠𝙤 𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙤.

✄⥤⥤⥤⥤⥤

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐞-𝐢𝐧𝐬

𝗞𝗮𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗴𝗮𝗻. Friend. Are you one of Oreo’s friends? Perhaps a childhood friend from way back? Or someone older who has given him advice and earned his respect?

𝗞𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗼. Playmate. Tumbang preso? Tagu-taguan? You name it.

𝗞𝗮𝗸𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗲. Classmate. Are you one of his classmates when he was in elementary school? Or when he was able to attend a few years of highschool?

𝗞𝗮𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗮 𝘀𝗮 𝗧𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗮𝗵𝗼. Workmates. Perhaps you were a farmer or someone who helped Oreo when he was working?

𝗞𝗮𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗮𝘆𝗮𝗻. Fellow Citizen. Do you know each other as fellow citizens of Matandagat?

𝗞𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆𝗮. Relative. Are you a cousin (either far or near) or a relative of Oreo?

𝗠𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗶. Buyer. Are you a client or a buyer of goods from the small farm of mabait?

𝗡𝗮𝗸𝗮𝘀𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗯𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗼 𝗞𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗮𝗹𝗮. Perhaps a stranger?

𝗜𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗞𝗮𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗮𝗻. Other requests or suggestions. Let us know what you’d like to suggest.

✄⥤⥤⥤⥤⥤

|| Images from Kiss on Piano ||

A clean-cut teacher of classics and lingua franca moves shop under simpler skies.

Rumors abound about the how's and the why's of his life. But as he himself would know, truth is often stranger than fiction.

✣ 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒 ✣
𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕

(Source: official art, Tears of Themis; edited by RPer)

𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰:
✣ a 29-year old teacher who spent most of his childhood in Quezon City, Metro Manila
✣ his birthday is on June 12 1977.
✣ son of Camilla Lagaslas, a single mother
✣ before 2006, he was sporadically in Matandagat with his childhood friends, Lucille and Santino. Often in the summer and during the school breaks.
✣ now teaches English at the high school level, recently passed his LET
✣ his mom died of unknown rea*ons last year, October 3 2005.
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐲:
✣ his mother caused a small scandal when her mother Sakura threw her out of the house in 1977.
✣ his father was said to be a military man that his mother Camilla met during her service, but no name has been said.
✣ he broke up with his recent girlfriend Lucille because Lucille and Santino were too close.
✣ his mom died of either drug abuse or su***de.
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰:
✣ he dislikes Santino because of his closeness to Lucille.
✣ his favorite food is the katsudon his lola and mom used to make during Christmas holidays.
✣ he’s a mama’s boy, through and through.