#anon days

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a fshhhh

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anon origins comic that i wanna finish 😔😔

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gabe core but its just stuff i grew up with

pinoy shit fr

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missed him so bad i made an ocxcc playlist of them

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Thinking of Gabe again...

How the walls of his childhood home always seemed to hum with life, carrying the songs of laughter and stories shared between him and his Lolo... no matter what, there were always something to share and thoughts to explore...

Even when money was tight, and the electricity flickered off more often than not, their house was never empty. There was always love; there was always the feeling of having your family around.

"Nak," his lolo called out in this familiar teasing tone of his, "Sa dami mong daldal, pati rebulto mapapa-oo mo." they both laughed. Gabe's smile growing, leaning onto his lolo's side, "Wala kang magagawa. Saya nga magsalita!"

"I’m telling you, Lolo, the tindera at the sari-sari store? She's got a secret stash of Yema Rolls, only for her suki," Gabe would whisper, eyes alight with mischief, and his lolo would laugh so hard his belly shook, clapping him on the back. "You and your stories, Nak. The world must be so exciting in your head."

But after his Lolo passed— the house stood still and quiet. The silence felt heavy and suffocating; like a blanket too thick, it started to get harder and harder to breathe. The absence of laughter made the walls seem smaller, the house much more silent than what he's used to.

For the first time, the walls felt too cramped. The sounds of his own footsteps were too loud for him to bear. The rosary that sat by their bed collected dust, and the old guitar they strung with the whole neighborhood continued to grow older without its owner.

Gabe had always thought that by the time he was older, he would prefer silence over anything else. The chance for peace and quiet, the chance just to be. But the quiet wasn't peaceful after; it was lonely. Without his family, his Lolo, his father. It felt like the world lost some of its colors.

So he talked to himself. To the kitchen, to the old photos of his Lolo on some shelves and tables. With the absence of his loved ones' sounds, he filled the house with his, trying to reclaim what was lost. To drown out the quiet that ached his chest. Some days it worked, some days it didn't.

But he kept talking— because if there's one thing he knows how to do is to share the tales of his mind. Even in his new home in Gotham. Gabe would never admit it, but sometimes, when the silence felt too heavy, he’d whisper to the walls, telling them stories he used to tell his lolo. Even in a different place, it was just in case so he could remember. Just in case they could still carry a little bit of before.