funny what an angel you think you've been
Posted: Sun Mar 16, 2025 10:45 pm
[Mona Marroquín, Memory Thread 2]
Mona, the infinity long and deep gray under eye circles, the crust in the eyes, the dry lips (fucking sucked being the one in the bed closer to the AC unit, thanks a lot you short fuck), the granny color underwear, the oversized plain white tee that no longer smelled like an ex-boyfriend. The eyebrows that needed plucking, the hair that needed flat ironing, the forearm fuzz that needed razoring (even when the costume covered her arms fully and it also literally had gloves).
5 AM. Early wake up because conventions on weekends waited for nobody.
Not like her roommate ever actually slept more than like. Two? Three hours a day. Hunter S Kim and the S stands for suck, try hard extraordinaire, every red blood cell competing for which could deliver oxygen the fastest. Mans barely qualified as human. Hence being a VTuber, etc. Imagine spending a couple hundos to imply you were too ugly IRL to hack it on cam (strictly speaking not true, some VTubers were pretty hot behind the OBS. Honestly, Hunter also was. But he also was very strictly off limits by dint of being so into men he formed an ouroboros shape with how much he avoided being straight, blah blah blah, munching his own ass, it worked on literally every level, them nine circles).
“I’m putting on music.”
The instant later, said music was on. Imagine giving someone a chance to protest her actions? Mona couldn’t envision such a situation.
Boom, get fucked Hunter.
M’wah. Love ya.
Mona started with the hotel ironing board, ever the classic shitty half assed barely can hold up its own weight when unfolded contraption coupled with the as shitty iron that has no steam so she had to wet the clothes herself. A crucial testimony to convention hours. All day every day, praise the Lord. Not here though. This was a godless placenot like God watched her nowadays, etc all, so on.
“I’ll do your costume too, boo.”
Services rendered, favors owed.
“And it’s gonna be cold,” the sea was right over There, a stones throw from some of the cosplay photo shoot areas, “so throw on a jacket too.”
Why yes, she did unironically care about him. Made it all the worse for him, end of the day (who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? Who will catch two knives in the back if he ever fucks with her? The one over there still writhing, still deciding if he’ll get out of bed or not. And he will get out of bed. For his own sake, if not hers. Suited her either way)
Mona, the infinity long and deep gray under eye circles, the crust in the eyes, the dry lips (fucking sucked being the one in the bed closer to the AC unit, thanks a lot you short fuck), the granny color underwear, the oversized plain white tee that no longer smelled like an ex-boyfriend. The eyebrows that needed plucking, the hair that needed flat ironing, the forearm fuzz that needed razoring (even when the costume covered her arms fully and it also literally had gloves).
5 AM. Early wake up because conventions on weekends waited for nobody.
Not like her roommate ever actually slept more than like. Two? Three hours a day. Hunter S Kim and the S stands for suck, try hard extraordinaire, every red blood cell competing for which could deliver oxygen the fastest. Mans barely qualified as human. Hence being a VTuber, etc. Imagine spending a couple hundos to imply you were too ugly IRL to hack it on cam (strictly speaking not true, some VTubers were pretty hot behind the OBS. Honestly, Hunter also was. But he also was very strictly off limits by dint of being so into men he formed an ouroboros shape with how much he avoided being straight, blah blah blah, munching his own ass, it worked on literally every level, them nine circles).
“I’m putting on music.”
The instant later, said music was on. Imagine giving someone a chance to protest her actions? Mona couldn’t envision such a situation.
Boom, get fucked Hunter.
M’wah. Love ya.
Mona started with the hotel ironing board, ever the classic shitty half assed barely can hold up its own weight when unfolded contraption coupled with the as shitty iron that has no steam so she had to wet the clothes herself. A crucial testimony to convention hours. All day every day, praise the Lord. Not here though. This was a godless placenot like God watched her nowadays, etc all, so on.
“I’ll do your costume too, boo.”
Services rendered, favors owed.
“And it’s gonna be cold,” the sea was right over There, a stones throw from some of the cosplay photo shoot areas, “so throw on a jacket too.”
Why yes, she did unironically care about him. Made it all the worse for him, end of the day (who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? Who will catch two knives in the back if he ever fucks with her? The one over there still writhing, still deciding if he’ll get out of bed or not. And he will get out of bed. For his own sake, if not hers. Suited her either way)