Compelled by the sound of one thousand hungry clocks. Current M!A: None [[Independent RP blog for Ples Tibenoch from Tessa Stone's webcomic Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name SELECTIVE THREADS, SPORADIC ACTIVITY. RULES STILL APPLY.]]
“With me, huh?” Lexi mumbled into his ear, sort of just softly pressing her face into the crook of his neck. She raised an eyebrow at Tiben’s follow up, though he couldn’t actually see her expression.
“I…if this is about the, um. State of your torso? I’ve already seen it. It doesn’t bother me. Things like that never have.” Which was true; she’d seen his, their, torso before. Totally on accident, but still.
“Anyways, I just. What do you like? Ph-physically, I mean. ‘Cause I. Don’t want to do something you don’t like.”
He’s a bit confused at all this discussion. “You want to talk?” he asks, genuinely curious. “About...me, this?” Totally unbroken ground here. He’s used to just barreling forward.
Tiben’s eyes dart down at the mention of his torso. That was part of it, but...there were deeper issues here. If he was more worldly, Tiben would call it a kind of dysmorphia. But, he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Or ever, really. “What do I like?” he parroted. He grinned a bit. Since Ples was a bit vanilla and prudish, most people expected Tiben to be perverted. Oh, certainly, he’s done perverted things, but...it’s not always his preference.
He disrupts their position by scooping Lexi up as quickly as he can so he can rearrange them: he’s lying on his back with Lexi sitting on his hips and looking quite comfortable. “You would probably have to work fairly hard at finding something I don’t like.”
Tiben briefly thought about just taking his giant hand and putting it on Lexi’s face, just to be a butt, but he decided against it. He blinked slowly a few times and sat up, looking Lexi up and down as if to evaluate just how he should go about doing this.
He wedged a knee in between her legs, put a hand on her hip, and slowly laid back down, tugging her close and holding her tight. Much closer now.
Lexi turned beet red and let out a little squeak, not entirely expecting Tiben’s little ‘rearrangement’ of limbs. Well that was one way to answer her question.
Heart pounding in her ears, Lexi brushed her lips over his jawline and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“Is this okay? I mean…do you like this? Kissing?”
Tiben gently pulled his glasses off. They were pushing into his face and Lexi was close enough right now anyway.
He considers her question. Kissing is...well, TIben understood it as a sort of predecessor to other activities. He’s not very well-versed in it because, well, there was no need for him to be. One night stands and various assaults just don’t really call for much romance (which was a good thing because, if he’s honest, if there was too much time for him to dwell on what he looked like, the encounter would end before it even began). Did he like it? He supposed so, but...well, no, not really. Not in a generic sense. His eyebrow quirked up. “With you,” he said. “But...Lexi,” he hesitated, “it’s...there’s a lot to. Understand. About my. Physicality.” The words came out choppy and unsure. “My half-history.”
I remember you, from many years ago when I was in the TF2 fandom. I ran a blog of a nerdy boy whos url was pensandpapercuts. Doubt you recall me, but it's nice to see you again after all of these years. HINABN was a great comic, this character especially.
((I have dim memories of the URL...
Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for the kind words! Feel free to interact with the blog, if you like. :)
For a while, the only sound in the room was the ever constant ticking that came from Tiben. But something tugged on Lexi’s mind and she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“Umm, Tibs?”
“Mmm?” he replied, shifting his head up.
“You know you can, erm, touch me. Like, I mean, you’re allowed.”
Tiben briefly thought about just taking his giant hand and putting it on Lexi’s face, just to be a butt, but he decided against it. He blinked slowly a few times and sat up, looking Lexi up and down as if to evaluate just how he should go about doing this.
He wedged a knee in between her legs, put a hand on her hip, and slowly laid back down, tugging her close and holding her tight. Much closer now.
But that’s pretty much all he’s ever really wanted to do: keep something of his own. Tiben leans his full weight on to her. He’s done talking for a while. He’s safe and here. For now, at least.
As strong as Lexi was, Tiben was still pretty heavy. With his full weight against her, she fell back against the bed with a little thud. Ah well. More room to cling.
She kissed the top of his head, quiet. No more talking was fine by Lexi. They both needed a little break.
Tiben let out a deep sigh and just…got comfy where he was.
For a while, the only sound in the room was the ever constant ticking that came from Tiben. But something tugged on Lexi’s mind and she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
But that’s pretty much all he’s ever really wanted to do: keep something of his own. Tiben leans his full weight on to her. He’s done talking for a while. He’s safe and here. For now, at least.
As strong as Lexi was, Tiben was still pretty heavy. With his full weight against her, she fell back against the bed with a little thud. Ah well. More room to cling.
She kissed the top of his head, quiet. No more talking was fine by Lexi. They both needed a little break.
Tiben let out a deep sigh and just...got comfy where he was.
Lexi’s eyes went wide when Tiben took her face in his hands. Her chest felt close to bursting from the strain of trying to find enough air to say everything she wanted to say, everything she needed him to hear. Words would never be enough to convey what Lexi felt, how she was feeling right at this moment. When she finally managed to get herself breathing, she filled each syllable with as much heart as she could.
“Tiben. It’s enough. This is enough. You’re enough. All of you. Whatever you are. Everything you are.”
She shivered as Tiben pressed against her neck, burying her face into his hair and curling her fingers around the nape of his neck as his limbs encompassed her. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay, so. So keep me. I need you so pleasepleaseplease. Keep me.”
But that’s pretty much all he’s ever really wanted to do: keep something of his own. Tiben leans his full weight on to her. He’s done talking for a while. He’s safe and here. For now, at least.
He’s obviously flustered, but it’s in a quiet and tight manner - the opposite of Ples’ behavior when he gets overwhelmed. Tiben’s chin is pulled back towards his neck, his fingers shake, he’s a little huffy in his breathing, and he’s looking down. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he wants to do. His strange eyes flick open, and Tiben does his best to hold eye contact, but the golden irises swivel this way and that.
There have been several times when they, the men, who inhabit this strange body have undergone very specific death. The spring stops. The gears grind. The ticking goes silent. It comes from hard falls, or something just pushing past the surgical stitches and false skin and pulling at the insides. It’s almost, technically, an organ removal, but overall, something more like a chip off a jar, or a porcelain figure.
Lexi has the power to shatter him right now with little more than a gentle caress.
Tiben’s eyes swipe up and keep still. He’s tense.
Any relief that Lexi felt in seeing those golden eyes was cut short by how Tiben simply couldn’t look at her for more than a few moments. Lexi dropped her hands away from his face, no longer trying to get Tiben to look at her. If he couldn’t, he couldn’t. His emotional limits seemed to have been reached. And that was okay.
Was it though? Lexi was fragile, liable to break. How long had she been running around this? How many times had she told herself how wrong and fucked up her feelings were? It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t enough. Something had to give. Someone had to give.
“Tell me what you want. No, you don’t even need to say it. Just do it. It doesn’t matter what it is. Whatever it is you want, whatever it is you’re feeling. I’ll accept it.”
Tiben thinks he wants too much and too little at the same time. His own body, for one. “Alexandria-” he starts. Holy shit, he’s never experienced so much in so few minutes. he’s scared, embarrassed, ashamed, elated, afraid, proud, who knows what all else? He makes a real effort now to just...chill out, stay calm, it’s him and his bestgoodfriend Red. He reaches out and puts his large hands in either side of her face, holding her still. He speaks tenderly. “I want you t-to, be a-all right...in all of this. Me...whatever I am-” Tiben winces. He’s trying here, really, it’s just...he really doesn’t have the vocabulary for this.
“I thought you were going to die!” he finally blurts out with some volume. “A-and I don’t- I couldn’t...the idea of you not knocking our door ever again killed me.” Tiben pauses so he can compose himself. “So...you have to stay.” His voice drops even lower. “You have to.” This time, he wraps himself around Lexi as best and as tight as he can, octopus-like: all limbs participating. He shoves his face as far into her neck as it can go, nuzzling.
Prince smiles at the compliment and straightens proudly in his seat,“You do too. You’ve even kept all of my letters to remember, haven’t you?”
He finishes his cocoa and slides out of his chair, extending a hand for the old man to take, unaware of the old man’s discomforts on such touches.“I feel like I lose a lot of story if I can’t understand it myself, would you mind helping me make them clearer?” the proposal is vague and abstract, what he means is to learn from the stories the letters he’d found before. There were some that told of stories he’s explained to another man in his past, but past those letters, there was more to the pile. More stories that the Little Prince was eager to learn about and decipher, but those were stories he couldn’t figure out on his own.
No, judging by their home and how carefully preserved they were, it was clear that they were Ples’ stories as well. Both of them needed to remember. Maybe they couldn’t catch every detail, but it would be enough if they managed to unravel memories they might have lost together.
“Yes!” Ples replies excitedly. “I d-do, I did! I. Ah.” He calms down a bit. “Um, I have-” he taps his temple, “um, memory issues.” Ples frowns a bit and rubs at his eye, knocking his glasses slightly askew. “It’s not, perhaps, a good habit to keep a lot of...things,” he continues, thinking of his messy office (and ignoring the scores of antiques, not just clocks, all over the house), “but...I think...exceptions can be made. Under certain circumstances.”
Ples’ clockwork heart is always soft and as warm as it can be when he’s around the Prince. Interacting with him is very easy, almost intuitive. He hesitates a bit at the boy’s offered hand. Ples licks his lips, takes a quick breath, and accepts the Prince’s hand into his own. “O-of course,” the ticking man says. “Let’s go.”
Tiben huffed a bit at his knuckles being kissed. It seemed…like something that you would do with a more vulnerable party, and Tiben hates feeling weak. Hates admitting that he feels weak when Lexi is around because he is. He screws his eyes shut, good and tight, and makes something akin to what most people call “whiskey face,” like something was causing him physical pain. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers for some reason. He brought a hand up and cradled the back of Lexi’s head to keep it settled against his.
It was a bit difficult for Lexi to get a look at Tiben’s face, what with their foreheads pressed together. But she managed to tilt her head just enough to see his expression.
“Sorry for what? Hey, Tibs. Come on. Open your eyes and look at me.” Her hands trembled slightly, wanting to see his eyes. Golden eyes, not blue.
“Tiben, please look at me.”
He’s obviously flustered, but it’s in a quiet and tight manner - the opposite of Ples’ behavior when he gets overwhelmed. Tiben’s chin is pulled back towards his neck, his fingers shake, he’s a little huffy in his breathing, and he’s looking down. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he wants to do. His strange eyes flick open, and Tiben does his best to hold eye contact, but the golden irises swivel this way and that.
There have been several times when they, the men, who inhabit this strange body have undergone very specific death. The spring stops. The gears grind. The ticking goes silent. It comes from hard falls, or something just pushing past the surgical stitches and false skin and pulling at the insides. It’s almost, technically, an organ removal, but overall, something more like a chip off a jar, or a porcelain figure.
Lexi has the power to shatter him right now with little more than a gentle caress.
Tiben’s nervousness and panic was practically palpable. Lexi could feel him shaking; he was trying so hard to be honest, to be open. She couldn’t fault him for not being able to say it, especially when she hadn’t technically said it either.
“I know.” Lexi whispered under her breath after he’d kissed her. She took his hands in hers and gently eased them out of her hair, bringing them to her lips for a brief kiss to his knuckles.
“I know how you feel.” She let go of his hands and gently cupped his face, pressing her forehead to his. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Tiben huffed a bit at his knuckles being kissed. It seemed...like something that you would do with a more vulnerable party, and Tiben hates feeling weak. Hates admitting that he feels weak when Lexi is around because he is. He screws his eyes shut, good and tight, and makes something akin to what most people call “whiskey face,” like something was causing him physical pain. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers for some reason. He brought a hand up and cradled the back of Lexi’s head to keep it settled against his.
The quiet wasn’t unexpected. Lexi had never been this honest with Tiben before, and honestly couldn’t have expected more than silence from his end.
She didn’t mind, though. You’d think she would, given how their relationship had began. Teasing gone too far, more malicious that anything else. Cruel words, purposely hurtful actions. In the beginning, Lexi hadn’t exactly been fond of him. Yet she kept coming back.
What started as a collection of back and forth arguments slowly changed into a tentative friendship. Despite everything that Tiben was (and wasn’t), he had noticed her two-year absence. He had missed her as much as his poor memory could allow. Somewhere along the way, Lexi had come to trust Tiben. She could tell him things without harsh judgement, she could be weak in front of him without getting lectured. He became a good friend.
Lexi wasn’t entirely sure when her feelings started to shift. Maybe it was when Tiben first kissed her on Halloween. Maybe it was when she was turned into a vampire. She wasn’t sure. But after more than a year of nothing but nights, Lexi had come to care deeply for Tiben. Deeply enough for her feelings to turn to love.
Tiben finally broke the silence with a small utterance of her name. He sounded nervous. Scared. Lexi pressed close to his side, wrapping her arms around his waist as he fully embraced her.
“You don’t have to say anything, not unless want to. But you can, if you want to. You don’t have to worry. It’s just me.”
Tiben snuffles in her hair a bit. “No, I do. I...” Just can’t? He’s shaking a bit, the magnitude of the reality of the situation is settling in and he’s really doing his best to keep calm. “You don’t know?” he asks quietly. He might be afraid to say it out loud, but Tiben’s never been particularly shy about inviting himself into personal space bubbles. He puts his fingers under her chin and tips her head up so he can kiss her.
It’s a Tiben-trademarked kiss so...he’s not very practiced. It’s surface-level in a sense. He has had many sexual encounters, but none that really mattered, none that required anything mutual, so he’s really restraining himself to what he knows is generally acceptable. Light, maybe a bit dry, but it lasts longer than just a simple peck.
He’s trying.
When Tiben pulls back, he just runs his fingers through Lexi’s hair over and over again, vaguely panicked.
First off, I wanna let you guys know I’m living with a friend until the new apartment is ready for us, and our friend is an awfully good person whom I trust so my sister and I are safe and secure with a roof over our heads.
With that said though, all the income I’ve been waiting on I had to put it all in for my last rent payment and, well, let’s just say I’m not in a very comfortable position, especially after I need to buy my medication.
I don’t ask for much, but really anything will help. If you can help me feel better knowing I have something to spend on groceries and cat food, I would really appreciate it if you donated to any of my accounts below. I can’t hold commissions right now, not just because I still have a queue to get on but even for money I can’t seem to develop the muse to create.
Perhaps if you tell me what you want and it’s something I agree to, I can make you a moodboard for 5$, as it seems that’s something I can manage to put out.
He side-eyes her a bit. “Mmnnnnn, that doesn’t corroborate. I’m rather certain it is quite thick.” The side-eye ended and was replaced by something much softer, but no less manic. His eyes swiveled this way and that as he seated himself. He’d by lying if he said he wasn’t low-key panicking. This was…serious.
Tiben’s strong point was not taking anything seriously. Not the opposite of that.
He knitted his browse and listened. And felt. Lexi is warm and alive and enviably organic. Tiben purses his lips and nods his confirmation at Lexi’s query.
Lexi could see how difficult this was for Tiben to process. He wasn’t mature or experienced enough for something this serious. It’s why she hesitated, why she had so often told him ‘never mind’ or ‘forget it’. So she was gentle, as much as she could be.
“That’s because of you. Because when I’m with you, I feel…happy. You make me feel important. You make me feel…l-lov…” Lexi let go of Tiben’s hand and pressed her forehead against his shoulder, closing her eyes and mustering up her courage.
“You make me feel loved. But I don’t know if…if it’s just me.”
When she leans forward, Tiben wraps a hand and arm around her shoulder, trying to support or soothe, whatever she needs. He doesn’t know what to do at first and, miraculously, decides to stick to doing nothing for now. He’s trying to think.
Tiben doesn’t really have relationships of any kind outside of Ples.
He doesn’t even really know...just...how or what he is, how he exists - is Ples considered family in relation to himself? Tiben was born alone. Ples, well into his way through life, had been developing the personality that would later be dubbed ‘Tiben’ by one of the very few people who saw him on a regular basis (and thus, had something of a relationship with him). Ples wasn’t old at the time, but he had been an adult; wise and foolish at the same time but, ultimately, knowledgeable about the world. Tiben was a newborn at the age of 22.
...or was it 18?
And his growth was condemned to be stunted. When Ples started solidifying the idea that there were 2 facets to himself -a Good and a Bad, the baddie was relegated to empty corners of Ples’ mind; a creature of the night, active when nothing could be seen or heard or gained. The magic that Ples had no hope of ever understanding, the thing that mangled his body, kept him trapped for most of the time.
So, when the baddie got out, the baddie would act out. He would light things on fire, blow things up, he managed to get into beds and under skin and maim and cause mayhem and, certainly, he had actually been caught a number of times, but nothing lasted long enough to go on a lasting record (he wouldn’t be able to keep up with modern systems, he was certain). And the baddie, worse than his acting out, would swear up and down that there was no difference between them. He was Ples A. Tibenoch, had always been Ples A. Tibenoch, had been Ples A. Tibenoch before there was a Ples A. Tibenoch, and it was truly Ples A. Tibenoch who wanted the world around him to burn.
But what choice did he have? He literally didn’t know anyone else.
Ples tried to push back. He told the monster that he was nothing and never would be. He kept him in the dark. Isolated. Denied everything Tiben whispered to him. An echo chamber. The worst days were when Ples managed to keep quiet, so he didn’t even have arguments. Those were days when Tiben had to admit that Ples really did have the upper hand in this whole mess. That, if he really wanted to, he could let himself out of this life, and then Tiben wouldn’t even have silence. He would have nothing.
Ples fled his family, his country. He became something new in the new world.
A huge, empty house. A job that he’s a million times overqualified for.
A vampire.
Dok may have been the first one to keep Tiben separate from the hose, although he also often said that the two personalities were a package deal, and that loving Ples also meant loving Tiben, at least a little bit, in some way or another.
Tiben didn’t think he had ever heard his name, his person, used within the context of love before then. At the time, Ples would have been something like 220 years old.
Lexi entered the picture shortly after that, but there wasn’t much of anything there at first. She faded in and out - failed to keep clean, distinctive lines in the blurry impressionist painting that Tiben lived in. Lexi was a gradual addition to his life; things may have been a bit quicker with Ples, but Tiben’s memory and sense of time is very, very distorted. It was like she had been far away in the backdrop, and inched closer and closer until she was the focus.
She sticks.
Tiben teased her relentlessly, but Lexi never folded, even when it became clear that Tiben’s remarks left a bit of an impact on her and stressed her out. She kept coming round the house. Tiben assumed it was out of boredom. But then, Lexi began to explain that she came to see him. He who had a separate name and identity, even though he had to share his body with an old man. Tiben winced at the thought - he hated reminding himself of how ugly he was; it was like stubbing your toe.
It took time, but she carefully tore down his walls (or, perhaps more accurately, built a functioning door), and Tiben let her in. He had a friend.
He had someone.
After 225 years.
He can’t help but love her.
However, after all this contemplation, he finds that he only has strength enough to say, “Lexi,” in a voice that is quiet, feeble, and, perhaps, illustrative of how someone who is 225 years old might sound. He wants to talk, really wants to, but more than anything, he is afraid of how he might sound somehow even more defeated than he already does.
So, instead, he squeezes her closer and rests his chin on her head, nuzzling just a bit, and does his best to control his breathing. His other arm comes around to complete the circle.
Tiben gently rubbed Lexi’s back and did his best to listen and comprehend. It didn’t go great, but he’s trying. There’s something that he’s obviously missing, and it’s making him feel dumb, which makes him get defensive. He doesn’t want to be aggressive or upset just now - Lexi’s here! - so…
So.
He’s going to try…something.
“I’m not a mind-reader, either,” he says as quietly as he can. “So, h-help me out here, Red. If everything isn’t all right…just. Just tell me. Get it through my thick skull.”
“Oh, Tibs. You’re not…you don’t have a thick skull. If I don’t say anything, you won’t get it. Just…you don’t have to say anything back, okay? Only if you want to.”
Lexi pulled away and took his hand, guiding him over to the edge of the bed so they could sit down. She looked at him, keeping hold of his hand and placing it on her chest.
“Can you feel that? How hard and fast my heart’s beating?”
He side-eyes her a bit. “Mmnnnnn, that doesn’t corroborate. I’m rather certain it is quite thick.” The side-eye ended and was replaced by something much softer, but no less manic. His eyes swiveled this way and that as he seated himself. He’d by lying if he said he wasn’t low-key panicking. This was...serious.
Tiben’s strong point was not taking anything seriously. Not the opposite of that.
He knitted his browse and listened. And felt. Lexi is warm and alive and enviably organic. Tiben purses his lips and nods his confirmation at Lexi’s query.
Latin: hope - the state which promotes the belief in a good outcome related to events and circumstances in one’s life. Despair is often regarded as the opposite of hope. Hope is the “feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best” or the act of “look[ing] forward to something with desire and reasonable confidence” or “feel[ing] that something desired may happen”. Other definitions are “to cherish a desire with anticipation”; “to desire with expectation of obtainment”; or “to expect with confidence”.
