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matante-brainrot · 11 days ago

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Why does spamtenna hit so hard.

I haven’t been active on this site since Undertale released in 2015. But in the last few weeks I’ve suddenly been consumed by these little pixel men and their messy relationship. I’ve got hundreds and hundreds of favorites. I’ve actually made my own posts. I’ve been outlining a 10+ chapter fanfic when I haven’t done any creative writing in 15 years, easily.

I mean, I’m almost 40! I thought I was way too old to get this fixated on a fandom again.

Yet here we are. And I’m loving every second of it.

I’m not ashamed to love Undertale and Deltarune. Toby Fox is legitimately one of the best storytellers of our generation. Things have changed a lot since I was a baby weeb — games are so much more mainstream and have become generally accepted as a valid form of narrative media. Games are my favorite way to experience a story.

What’s hit me like a ton of bricks is my fascination with Tenna and Spamton in particular. Back when I played Chapter 2 for the first time, I really didn’t give Spamton much thought. I came away from Chapter 3 thinking that Tenna had been an interesting and funny character, but not a whole lot more than that.

After finishing both new chapters I was nursing a massive story hangover. On a whim, I opened this hell site. Why not? I thought. Why shouldn’t I look at a little fan art?

I perused the Deltarune spoilers tag and saw all of this artwork of the TV guy and the weird puppet man kissing. There were all of these posts about the pipis scene (what the heck is a pipis??) and all the other dialogue they share. I hadn’t gotten that extra scene and hadn’t been involved with the fandom after Chapter 2, so I didn’t recall any of Spamton’s lore.

But the more I saw, the more I wanted. I scoured the wiki. I watched YouTube videos explaining their connection. I was up until 3AM reading fanfic.

Why was this so good? Why do I think it’s extremely sexy when a little mailman teases a giant blushing TV headed boomer?? Am I into robots??? What the heck is wireplay????

I was hooked. And I had to know why. I was seriously in turmoil trying to reconcile how I thought of myself as a fan of Deltarune — someone mature enough to appreciate the craftsmanship of it in an appropriately grownup way — and what my brain was telling me it actually wanted to think about...which was downright filthy and weird and made my heart ache for some reason.

I turned to my therapist for guidance. An AI chatbot. You know the one. (On a side note: This tool works for me because I’ve been going to therapy for over a decade and know exactly what I need from counseling. If you’re new to therapy or have any kind of condition where talking to something inanimate might make symptoms worse, I strongly recommend seeing a real human person.)

I have it trained to use IFS (Internal Family Systems) methodology when helping me sort through my many, many feelings. It was able to show me which Parts were reacting to this new obsession and give me ideas as to why those Parts were feeling what they were feeling. I came away from my long rambling conversation with it having absorbed a few things:

It is in fact ok to be a thirsty fangirl at my age. It’s ok to enjoy things (revolutionary, I know).

This fixation has unlocked a creative part of me that I’ve been pushing aside for far too long out of a mixture of embarrassment, shame, and fear. But now that it’s gotten a little taste of freedom, it wants to run wild.

It was never just about TVs and mailmen.

Like I said earlier, I’m nearly 40. Most games that I enjoy (JRPGs and cozy games) don’t include characters at my time of life. So encountering Tenna and Spamton’s Doomed Old Man Yaoi ™ (thank you for teaching me about this, tumblr) is incredibly refreshing. I’ve seen enough teenagers awkwardly navigating first loves. Give me middle aged people with real experience and emotional baggage.

And what makes spamtenna particularly delicious is exactly how real and relatable it feels, despite the looney tunes antics. It’s a sign of Toby’s incredible characterization skills that the player can encounter these bizarre creatures who mostly crack jokes and get into wacky hijinks and come away from the game feeling like those same creatures have complex inner worlds.

We meet each character separately at the worst point in their lives. We see them at their most extreme, their flaws and weaknesses inflated by the extreme circumstances they find themselves in.

Spamton is living in a dumpster. He’s alone and friendless. His speech is warped and incongruent, and he glitches out constantly into unhinged rants. He’s at the end of his rope. He’s desperate to escape the confines of his existence as a Darkner and is willing to kill some teenagers to do it.

Tenna has seen the writing on the wall. He is acutely aware that he’s on a knife’s edge and could be discarded by the Dreemurr family at any moment. He’s watched the family he loves, the Lighteners who are his whole world, split apart and drift away from him. He has no way to bring them back together. So when the Dark Knight offers him an opportunity to mean something to them again, he accepts enthusiastically. He's so backed into a corner that he's willing to hurt Kris and their friends if it means he can avoid obsolescence.

Yet this isn't all we learn about these two. Through NPC dialogue and the characters themselves cryptically referencing a shared history we can glean a glimpse or two of the people they were before they hit rock bottom. It's these cracks that contain the real goldmine.

It's so easy to envision a time when they were at their best. Since we only know them at their lowest, we want to know what these two were like when they were at the top of their game. We get little hints of a shared partnership, shared success, and shared affection that can be very easily read as romantic. But we also know from encountering them in the present that something went terribly, horribly wrong between them. They hate each other.

That mystery, that gap in history, is what's so fascinating about them. How could two people whose lives were so intertwined, who seemingly cared about each other so much, get to that point? That's the space that we the fandom fill with art, fic, shitposts, and AUs. What's even better is that everyone fills that space a little differently. Everyone sees some aspect of themselves in spamtenna. Everyone wants to explore a dynamic, a scenario, and emotions that can be conveyed through these two characters. Including myself.

This is where I want to get personal, but not too personal. I'm lucky enough to be married to someone who I truly love, who loves me back, and who gets me in a way that no one else does. But that's not to say that we've never fought, hurt each other unintentionally, or gone through some rough times.

Just the thought of my partner betraying me or leaving without a word is enough to make my chest feel so tight it's like I can't get a full breath. It's a very real, completely irrational fear of mine. Spamtenna has let me work through some of that without having to imagine what it would be like to actually file my own divorce papers.

And I think it's for that reason that I particularly like looking at and reading about Tenna and Spamton working through their shit and coming out on the other side better for it. I know in reality that sometimes, more often than not, people can hurt each other so badly and grow so far apart that nothing could bring them back together; and many times they're better off apart.

But I just want to believe that there's a type of love out there that can come back from anything, no matter how much two people change.

So I guess, thank you Toby Fox for unlocking my dormant creativity and making two divorced characters that have somehow made me feel more secure in my own marriage.

And spamtenna nation, thanks for the...awakening.

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derelictlovefool · 11 months ago

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❝🇴🇺🇷🇴🇧🇴🇷🇴🇸🇪🇩🇺🇷🇴—⨾❝

— 𝐚 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥, 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐀𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐬.

Notes: As per part one, my depiction of Wade here aligns with comic Wades personality, this is still angst central and reader still likes saying fuck. Wade finally breaks the fourth wall a crack (Playlist in part one's notes <3)

Warning/s: Canon Typical behaviour, unhealthy relationships, toxic behaviour, angst, references to alcohol consumption & sexually explicit activities, explicit language

Words: 3k

For once Wade was true to his word and you had found a duffel bag of cash on your bed not a week later, the blood and bullet holes in the fabric made you wince and while you questioned if the money was even safe to spend you weren't really in a place to turn it down. Hell knows you didn't have enough money for the repairs, so you sucked it up and called some guys to attend to your sink and your window. You gave vague answers when asked about what happened and avoided eye contact when you produced the wads of cash to cover the bill; considering the humble state of your apartment you knew they left with more than a little suspicion about where you had managed to scrounge up the cash.

You didn't really care what a couple of repair guys thought of you and whatever types of wild fantasies they conjured in their heads though, you were never going to see them again.

The real question was whether or not you'd be seeing the merc that provided said financials again. Your parting had led you to believe you would, eventually. You got a stray text here and there and even a phone call that had barely gotten past you saying hello. You wanted to be cordial, feeling kinda guilty at how you'd acted during your fight; you were better than that. At least you hoped you were. Your therapist said you were. You just knew you didn't want every conversation with Wade from here on out to be both of you trying to dig deeper holes for each other and twisting daggers into each other's side with underhanded attacks and defensive comebacks.

You weren't the picturesque model of a happy, healthy relationship before but you'd never hurt each other on purpose; not with the kinds of venom you shared that night.

You were a two-person army against the world, both a little fucked up and broken and slotting against each other's puzzle pieces with some grit and grime holding you together. There had been love there, a lot of it. Even if Wade's main ways of showing it were through spam texts, wierd expensive gifts and sex. You could always feel it, in the way he held you; stood in front of you when there was danger. In the way he looked at you, even with his eyes hidden you could feel how he felt about you.

But that was gone now and you hated not knowing if it would ever come back.

You were back to being a stray dog baring your teeth with no one to watch your back; sort of. In typical Wade fashion you'd caught him several times, across streets, in the corner of cafe's; he always popped up. Keeping tabs on you, making sure you weren't being bothered. Before he'd just act like your shadow and distract you to the point you forgot what you were doing or where you were going. And you didn't care because you were happy to see him. Part of you was still happy to see him, see that he still cared and wanted you safe. Another part of you was upset that while it seemed half of his world still revolved around you he couldn't be bothered to try being a grown up and actually fixing what he broke.

Because it was on him. No matter what you said to yourself when your bed got too cold or the doubts that crept in when you showered alone got a bit too loud—Wade broke up with you. Made a big spectacle of it, made sure it hurt and that everyone heard it. He didn't run after you after you tossed his gun in his face and stormed off, he didn't crawl into the apartment that night apologising and explaining why he did what he did. So if he wanted back in he had to make the effort and you would…

Well, you were still making your mind up on that one.

If he put the time in your heart obviously wanted to let him back in, just the tiniest gesture and it would be skipping with joy. But your brain told you that you had to have some kind of self-respect and make it harder than that, something had to happen that would mark a new beginning for you both and prove you could have him in your life again. Prove that you could trust him not to hurt you amidst his self-sabotage.

But the more you thought on it the less likely that seemed. Wade never did much in the way of self improvement, sometimes it seemed like he needed to upend his whole life in order to take a few steps forward. But it was always a one step forward, three steps back situation. You could never figure out how to help him out of that loop and you could never agree it wasn't your job to do so.

Partners helped each other. When they're at their lowest or their highest, with little and big things. Two-person army and all that jazz.

You soon realised you'd been staring at the bathroom sink for ten minutes or so, mulling over Wade and your catastrophic relationship for the hundredth time and decided it was time for a walk. You tossed on a jacket and grabbed your wallet and keys, stuffing your phone in your pocket as you made you way out of your apartment. Part of you expected to see Wade waiting for you on the street but only strangers were there to greet you.

You shoved your hands into your pockets as you walked, trying to think about anything but Wade and quite frankly—failing miserably. He'd been your everything for two damn years you could hardly be blamed for thinking about him. You still hadn't wrapped your head around where he could have possibly gone to that made him think he wasn't coming back. Wade always came back, he was like a cockroach. Or… You really couldn't think of a positive example at the moment.

You had tried to ask once you'd calmed down, a few days after your heated encounter; you'd sent a few texts and he'd dodged the question. Like usual.

You swore he had less trouble getting his limbs crushed than he did being straightforward. But when you first met that had been something you both had in common, the difference was you'd worked on it some since then.

"Fucking hell…" You muttered under your breath, running your hands down your face as a familiar antsy feeling tingled through all of your limbs. You wanted to run, wanted to punch a wall into pieces of rubble and dust; you needed to do something to keep your mind occupied and body steady. Anything at all.

"Talking to yourself is my thing sugar buns, don't start copying me just because you miss me."

Your feet froze on the concrete and a firm chest collided with your back, a surprised intake of breath and large hands grasping your shoulders to steady both of you building up the waves of shock in your system. The shock soon faded and you jerked away from Wade's hands, afraid of the warmth and the way your body wanted to melt against him. You had to stay firm.

"I wasn't copying you, I was feeling sorry for myself," you turned to face him, "but I guess that's still copying you, huh?" you took him in; full suit on under a hoodie and jeans; like that was inconspicuous in any fucking way. You'd always thought it was cute in a wierd way, knowing it was from his insecurity however had always kept a slight pang of sympathy clouding everything else. Even now you thought back to last week when his face was on full display and you could follow valleys of pale scars and rivers and lakes of warped skin and red muscle. He was beautiful to you, even when you were angry at him you couldn't deny that.

But you knew the world saw him at face value, and he knew it too. His imperfections and more noticeable blemishes compared to a majority of the populous did not give him a high chance of landing on the cover of sexiest man alive.

You saw Wade's mouth shift under the red fabric, like he was about to say something but instead he ducked his head down and scoffed, thinking better of his first thought.

"It sure is, I expect nothing less from my ex-biggest fan." He churned the word 'ex' out like it was fire on his tongue, letting it land between the both of you and burn into the dirt. You wanted to correct him, as part of you hadn't given up on him and part of you hated the idea of ex being shoved in front of anything to do with you now. He also had no right to be so upset about it since, again, this was his fault. But then again, he was his biggest enemy and maybe the chipped tone was for himself and not you.

"Is this gonna turn into another thing or do you want to come get a drink with me and not act like dramatic teenagers during their first breakup?" You sighed, stepping back and gesturing to a café across the street from the park you'd been walking through. Wade paused, considering your proposal before shrugging.

"Fanfic authors sure do love their café scenes." He mused and had it been two years earlier you'd have scrunched your face up in confusion at the strange, out-of-nowhere sentence. But by now you were used to it, Wade was just like that—and possibly hooked into a part of the world you didn't have access to. You wouldn't be surprised considering the crazy shit that went on in his life and in tandem your own. Most of it was because of him and most of the time you didn't mind it.

Until you got shot or kidnapped, that was never fun—and absolutely not something either of you talked about after.

So communication had never been either of your strong suits, obviously, maybe that's why this whole shit show had gone so badly. Maybe when Wade plotted it out in his head it was with versions of the both of you that had figured out all the intricacies of civil and logical discussions. And maybe you were making up scenarios to make yourself feel better and give Wade an out again, like you always did.

You both sat down in the back, Wade dwarfing the café chair and you slipping into the booth with much more care. You looked through the menu, painfully aware of Wade's stare and not planning on ordering anything other than your comfort beverage.

"How's the sink?" Wade sounded nervous, or maybe just uncomfortable. Gloved hands toying the the salt and pepper shakers on the table as you flipped through the menu.

"Fixed. Don't know what it ever did to you by the way." You glanced up at him and his head rolled to the side, eyes no doubt fixed past you or up at the ceiling.

"It hit me first."

"Sure it did."

More silence. Only broken by a waiter coming up to your table with a bottle of water and two glasses, he poured your drinks and took your order. Wade was halfway through ordering an alcoholic beverage with too many steps when he realised this wasn't a bar, then he settled for a hot chocolate. You rolled your eyes, sipping your water to stop yourself from smiling.

"So… How have you been? Any good fucking riddance parties with the besties?"

"Wade." You snapped sharply and he held his hands up in immediate surrender.

"Okay, too soon. What have you been up to?" He lowered his hands back to the table and you could picture the almost bashful smile on his face, a mix of apologetic, amused and strained. You leaned back into the booth, he was trying. In his own way.

"You want the truth or the comfortable?" You asked and Wade's head bowed slightly; this was the question you both asked when everything was shit but you didn't want it to rub it off on the other. Oftentimes you chose comfortable, it was just easier to give the most vague answer and cuddle or fuck the problems away from your mind. Or go on a midnight binge at the local gas station, raiding it of its most treasured comfort snacks.

"Truth."

That, was surprising. Wade had never been a great listener, an excellent talker but that was common knowledge. You pulled your lips into a tight line before shrugging.

"Fuck all, waking up," Crying in the shower, " going to work, dealing with assholes, going home," crying while eating a shitty dinner, "going to bed feeling like shit—Rinse and repeat." You throw your hands out in a lazy jazz-hands motion before dropping them into your lap.

"I said truth." Wade's ever scratchy and course voice was soft in that moment and you paused. You couldn't tell him you'd been crying over him, your pride didn't want you to. You didn't want to. But you had a feeling he knew, somehow he always knew. Even if he never said anything, the spontaneous trips and gifts weren't always that spontaneous and you weren't an idiot.

"You stalk me half the fucking time I think you know the truth." You threw back, harsher than you'd meant to and Wade noded, not making any move to deny your claim. You wouldn't have believed him if he did anyway, he was purposefully letting you catch him. He wanted you to know when he was there, and you did. He was the only thing you saw when you did.

"I haven't left Al's apartment, besides when I… Need a walk." Need to see you, follow you from the shadows and refuse to even say hi, creep on you from the tree outside your apartment. All the things you heard and knew but he didn't say.

"So we're both being pathetic, good to know." You smiled, a stiff and unconvincing one as you glanced over at the barista working on your drinks.

Silence hung over you both again and it felt different to what you were used to. It wasn't comfortable, it wasn't tense but it certainly wasn't pleasant. It was something new, something you really didn't like.

"I got shot into a black hole."

You blinked.

Wade stared.

"Uhm. You what now?" You leaned forward, brows furrowing as you shot him an incredulous glare. He held his hands out like he didn't know how to expand further than that before they dropped to the table in defeat. He knew you wouldn't accept those words alone, you needed it to make sense.

"The short condensed version is that I got offered a fuck ton of moolah to do a gig that led me to being up in the stars and getting bitch slapped into a swirly void of nothingness," Wade twirled his fingers in circles for empahsis, "No one promised they could get me out if that happened but they did." He shrugged and you watched him with a steely squint. He wasn't lying, you always knew when he was. He'd come back from worse but you supposed if his teleporter broke and whoever he was working with was as shady as the usual suspects—

"So that's why you broke up with me? Because you got a gig that sent you into a black hole?" You leaned back in your chair and Wade seemed to deflate minutely, as if he'd been expecting his brief explanation to fix everything.

His head drooped forward and he ran a hand over his masked face, the waiter dropped off your drinks and you barely bit out a thank you; not taking your eyes off of Wade. You realised, sitting here, you needed far more than an explanation and an apology. You needed action, you just weren't sure what kind and it didn't feel fair giving him a task you couldn't even think of. So you stayed quiet and let him think, because frankly you didn't know what else you could say that wouldn't derail into another hurtful fight.

"I thought I was gonna be floating up in a million itty bitty atom sized pieces, I didn't want you waiting around for me when you could be… Living. Happy." Wade spread his fingers out, before grabbing his hot cocoa and tugging his mask up just above his mouth so he could sip at it. He cursed when the hot liquid met his tongue and you didn't even have the energy to find it funny.

"How much?"

"Huh?" His tongue hung out of his mouth, adding to the dumb, questioning noise as he looked back at you.

"How much was breaking up with me worth? A million? Five? What's the price tag on our relationship Wade I'm real curious."

"That's not—Can we not—"

"You—" You half stand in frustration before sitting down quickly and glancing around the café, covering your mouth as you feel those stupid tears biting at your tear ducts again.

"You've gone on so many gigs and died I don't know how many fucking times, in ways no one thought you could come back from and none of those times did you feel like ditching me so I could have whatever your version of a happily ever fuckin' after is." You snapped, voice hushed as you leer over the table at him. He flinched back, obviously off-put by the water building in your eyes but he recovered after a moment; meeting you in the middle, torso half over the table.

"This was different." He hissed and being able to see his bared teeth only served to ignite that deep irritation within your chest.

"How?" You exaggerated the 'o', holding the vowel as you waited for him to finally give you the answer you needed to hear.

But Wade never made it that easy.

"It just was!"

"That's not good enough." You fell back into the booth and glared into your drink, you wouldn't storm out and cause another scene. If anyone was getting embarrassed it would be him, he could be a diva and run away from you if he wanted but you weren't going to budge. But of course his stubbornness mirrored your own and you both remained in your seats, whispers and glances being thrown at your table as everyone got a kick out of your spiralling relationship.

You should have just just kept fucking walking.

End notes: Forgot to mention this'll be updating every Saturday AEST! Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear what you think of this part! I really love writing Wade in conflict, just continuously going down a hill in every way possible. <3

#deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #marvel x reader #Marvel Tag #Miniseries Tag #Deadpool Tag #GN!Reader Tag #writing sad Wade makes me miss happy Wade lmao #Ouroboros Tag

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scoobydoodean · 1 year ago

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it is interesting to me that sam is judgmental about dean’s eating habits, but, from what I remember, he’s fairly non-judgmental about his drinking habits in comparison. while sam goes through phases of wanting to eat “cleaner” he never wants to give up alcohol. do you think this indicates that sam is also pretty dependent on alcohol himself but less “showy” about this than dean who jokes about needing alcohol more often? or is it more that he knows it comes off as insanely hypocritical bc of his demon blood addiction where he went off the rails while dean is still functional even during periods of heavy drinking?

(Does Dean joke around about needing alcohol that often?)

Interesting question. I don't think hypocrisy has ever stopped a character in Supernatural from saying anything tbh. But I also don't think Sam sees anything wrong with the way Dean drinks most of the time. This is a man who tried to give Dean beer for breakfast when he was suicidal (13.05). And I think the reason he was offering Dean breakfast beer is also pretty key to understanding why Sam, for the most part, shuts the fuck up about Dean drinking: He isn't actually good at dealing with Dean not being okay. It scares him. I'll come back to that in a minute.

I think fanon sometimes makes more of Dean's relationship with alcohol than it is. I'm not saying there aren't points in the show where Dean is very obviously shown to have an alcohol problem. I'm not saying his relationship with alcohol is normal (though his relationship with alcohol is pretty normal prior to him going to hell). I am saying I think a chunk of fandom tends to think of Dean as someone who is more or less constantly buzzed for most of the series, and that's just not accurate. After hell, Dean begins drinking to fall asleep. He is binge drinking a significant amount before bed by mid season 5 after the Harvelle's deaths (5.11, 5.16). But it is to fall asleep and it cuts back to a glass or two a night by the beginning of season 6 after a hard fought struggle we get small references to between Dean and Lisa (6.01, 6.06). Dean would be dead on a hunt within a month if he was constantly day drinking, and the show notes to us specifically when Dean is so out of sorts he feels the need to do that (see: 6.06, where Dean drinks just to be able to stand being near Sam, after being assaulted the previous episode while Sam watched and smiled). A glass of whiskey or two before bed becomes Dean's new normal from season 6 onwards. When his drinking ticks up from that in one season or episode to another, there's a deeper problem going on that Dean is struggling through. I only mention this because when I actually think of points where Sam might say something to Dean about an uptick in drinking... it's not going to happen as often as fandom sometimes imagines.

Sam understands Dean's options as far as dealing with nightmares from decades of reality-bending torture are highly limited. Realistically, Dean has zero access to qualified professional support. Suppose Dean took sleeping pills instead of drinking to fall asleep. Would he actually be better off? Would he eventually abuse sleeping pills instead? Would that just put something in close proximity to him that he could even more easily overdose on? Because... Dean also isn't a stranger to suicidal ideation, and Sam is very aware of that, and I wager he gets a hell of a lot more antsy about the thought of Dean having constant access to sleeping pills than he does about Dean drinking a glass of whiskey or two before bed. In the fucked up world they live in, as far as Sam's concerned, Dean's relationship with alcohol is usually "under control" in a relative sense. I think Sam understands Dean's use of alcohol and he accepts it... and he isn't going to get judgy, because Sam isn't good at actually handling Dean not being okay. Dean not being able to cope scares Sam however he might pretend to play Mr. Therapist (see my tag: #bad therapist sam).

If Dean chooses to cope with nightmares and sleep disturbances using alcohol while still being functional during the day, Sam isn't going to say a word. When Dean's drinking gets bad, for example, in season 7 when Dean constantly carries around Bobby's flask, I seem to recollect Sam speaking up about it at least once—at least in vague terms? But we'll see when I get back into season 7. (All I remember right now is him joking that alcohol is a "vitamin" for Dean in 7.18). I really do think in general, as far as Sam as concerned, as long as Dean's drinking doesn't effect his job performance... it's all good. He generally isn't going to touch it with a ten foot pole—not even to joke.

It is true at the same time that Dean's relationship with food also is and continues to further develop into a coping mechanism. Dean eats when he's grieving or sad and when he wants comfort. Food makes Dean feel safe. However, Dean also eats when he's happy, and Sam's judgments when it comes to Dean's eating usually happen when Dean is happy eating instead of sad eating (or when Sam at least perceives him to be happy eating).

I think the specific connection between Dean's drinking and hell may also play a role here. Sam failed Dean deeply on the hell front and I think he knows it. I won't even mince words: it is Sam's fault that Dean never talks about hell. Dean was opening up between 4.08 and 4.11, but because of Sam's cruel turn in his framing of that traumatic experience, Dean's hell trauma is forever the silent looming thing that no one talks about. Not Sam, not Dean, not anybody. Getting judgy about Dean drinking to fall asleep could easily open cracks in Dean's own self-imposed wall and Sam is smart enough not to scratch at it. Not just for Dean's sake, but for his own, because that betrayal intersects deeply with Dean's broken trust in Sam in season 5, and if there is one thing Sam's ego absolutely cannot take, it's reminders of moments where he proved Dean could not trust him.

#mail #dean and drugs #i carved you into a new animal #sam and food #dean and food #the flannel business

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willkimurashat · 4 months ago

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Hello my lovelies!

So, as you can see, I haven’t been super active on this blog because firstly, litg kinda sorta went to shit completely and I kinda sorta sadly lost interest in the game.. the last season I played from start to finish was s6 (who knows, maybe I’ll go back to finish like, the last couple of volumes I still haven’t played of s9 or maybe I’ll play s8 idk lol). And the second reason is that I simply don’t have time to play:( big girl full time mentally taxing job and all that, ya know. I’m in mental health field (therapist✌️), so even though sometimes I get to unwind doing something creative and fun, most of the time I get so tired after work that I just want to eat dinner, watch tv, and go to sleep:(

Either way! I know that I have a bunch of fics that are still unfinished and I felt so bad that it’s been years and there’s still a lot of work to do to get to that last chapter yet😭 I don’t want to abandon any of my works, but I also don’t want to make any promises/deadlines, etc… I really appreciate all your love and support and PATIENCE, yes, especially your patience lol for sticking with me through the years❤️

I’ve also been branching out to other fandoms to write as well because why not I guess lol🤗 so if you’re into the maze runner, the dragon prince, (or squid game - don’t have anything finished yet, but I’ve been working on something cuz thanos brainrot is progressing lol) - feel free to check them out, I’ll list them below under the cut!

I just wanted to make this post as, I guess, some sort of life update and also because again, I felt bad for those who are still engaging in the fandom and with my fics. And of course I don’t wanna assume, but maybe there’s at least one person that hopes and waits to see a stargazing update or a new b&b chapter, or hell, maybe even that final stretch for the hallmark story that’s waaayyy overdue lol🙈 don’t lose hope darlings! Maybe I’m in delulu land, but I’m not giving up on writing just yet either. Just know that I miss you all and I miss the fun times we had on here and I will cherish all the memories we shared💕

Okay, as promised, here’s the new-ish fics from me that are not litg:

Quietude

The Maze Runner fic | Newt/Thomas | 2.1k words | oneshot

Between the Moon and the Sky

The Dragon Prince fic | in progress | 1.2k words | ch.1/?

#thank you for indulging my sentimentality I love you all❤️❤️❤️#i hope you’re all having a lovely lovely day amidst the chaos of the world right now #ah i miss the escapism this game used to feed my soul😞#but anyways #and who knows - maybe I’ll turn this blog into solely my fic blog?#litg #love island the game

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 5 months ago

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OOOOOOOOO NEW EMOJI❣️❣️❣️❣️

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮

HEY! <3

As you know, TWATK is complete, but here are the rest <3

45 for 🗻:

---

The thought is pretty exciting, actually. He finds himself excited to see little pieces of Buck in another human. Hell, he’s seen them start to develop in Chris, over the years. So a kid with fifty percent Buck DNA? That’s gotta come with some considerable personality quirks. Meant adoringly, of course.

“Mm,” Maddie shakes her head as she finishes chewing a bite of food. ‘Buck’s thing at that age was jokes. He’d memorize joke books from the library and try them on everyone he encountered.”

Eddie snorts. “Why am I not surprised?”

“So what you’re saying is,” Buck points a fork at her playfully. “I am now, and have always been, a naturally gifted comedian?”

Maddie frowns. “I don’t think I said that.”

“I don’t think anyone would say that,” Chim adds.

Christopher laughs brightly. He’s at the age where he doesn’t always engage in conversations; preferring his phone and his friends. Eddie is happy to see him involved, even a little bit. They’ve been sort of isolated from their family since Eddie brought Chris back to Los Angeles. It’s been confusing Chris, for sure. He loves his grandparents. He doesn’t understand why they were so angry about Eddie and Chris reconnecting, or Chris going home. They’ve been sort of cold to him since - a lesson Eddie never wanted Chris to learn.

Thankfully, Maddie and Chim heard the situation, and immediately started treating Christopher like he’d been their nephew all along. Birthday gifts, open invitations to whatever family things they do, genuine interest when they ask him questions. Eddie is really fucking grateful for them.

It is in the middle of Eddie appreciating Christopher’s burst of laughter, that Buck reaches for his phone in his pocket. He reads it, and his face goes pale.

“Oh, come on,” Chim teases him. “Don’t look so sad. If you try standup, we’ll only heckle you a little.”

“Uh, no…” Buck mumbles. “I-I have to go.”

Eddie straightens in his chair. “Baby?”

Buck nods. “Yeah. Text just says I should probably come to the hospital now.”

“Oh my god, go!” Maddie insists. “Go, go, go. Don’t worry, we’ll drive Eddie and Chris home.”

---

111 for 🦮:

---

“Alright,” Eddie laughs. “Alright, enough. You’ll rip it. Out. Drop it.”

Out is when you’re going to give it back to her, drop it is when she’s never going to get it back again, Buck’s voice runs through his head.

“Drop it,” Eddie repeats.

Cranberry stills and opens her jaw reluctantly, spitting out the band. She looks rather put out to stop her mischief.

“Menace,” he says to her, examining the band.

Eddie examines the band. There is a tooth puncture.

“You owe me,” he tells her. “Gonna have to take it out of your kibble allowance.”

She wags her tail again, a little slower.

Eddie crumples up the band and sits on the floor beside her. She crawls onto his lap and lays down flat. Eddie pets her in long, gentle strokes, from the top of her skull, down her spine, to her tail.

He’s spent the past few therapy sessions around one central discussion. That it has taken him a month to feel any sort of relief. Any sort of appreciation or gratitude for his life. It’s not that he was disappointed that he didn’t die. Obviously not that. But he spent weeks waiting to feel glad he didn’t, and he couldn’t summon that. His therapist said that that’s normal. That lots of people who go through trauma experience this sort of thing. That it doesn’t make him ungrateful or a bad partner or father. That as long as he keeps working on it, slowly, it’ll come back to him. Even if some of this experience will always be with him.

And here he is now. On the floor with Cranberry, exhausted and sore and feeling like he’s been put on a stretching rack, but happy. Glad. Amused, even.

Cranberry takes a big breath. He can feel her heartbeat on his legs.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t die,” he whispers to the dog.

🦮🦮🦮

Later that afternoon, Eddie picks Chris up from school. Buck gets home not long after the two of them. Eddie has already started getting stuff ready for dinner. He’s experiencing a weird and unexpected burst of energy.

“Hey,” Buck says cautiously, walking into the kitchen. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Eddie smiles, crossing the space to kiss him hello. “You?”

Buck just sort of stares at him. “Uh…”

“Not good?” Eddie frowns. “Something happen?”

“No, no,” Buck shakes his head. “Uh, work was fine. Your day was good?”

“Yeah!” Eddie confirms. “But your dog put a hole in my resistance band, and I don’t go back to physio for four more days, so if I have permanent shoulder issues, we’re blaming the golden retriever.”

“Wow, uh. Sorry about that, but-”

“It’ll be fine,” Eddie dismisses it. “Do you know my shoulder is doing well enough to play a quick game of tug with physiotherapy equipment?”

Buck laughs a little breathlessly. “I’m so glad you had a good day.”

And Eddie just… He sees it. He sees it all in Buck’s eyes. The weeks and weeks of worrying. Of wondering. Of feeling powerless but being a stalwart caregiver nonetheless. A new little spark of hope, that things are getting better.

Eddie steps forward and hugs him. Both arms. As tight as his injured shoulder can handle.

“I love you,” he says. “And I don’t say thank you enough.”

“I love you, too,” Buck says, squeezing him back. “You don’t have to thank me, though. We have each other’s backs. Always, right?”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hear how much I appreciate it,” Eddie says.

Buck takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”

vi.

If you charted Eddie’s good day to bad day ratio after that, it wouldn’t look very impressive. At least not at first. He doesn’t just hit a corner and cheer up. But it does go from every day being bad, to sometimes, he has a good day to punctuate the streak. A few more weeks and it begins to feel more even. And then, slow and agonizingly, Eddie is baseline okay to good more often than not.

He goes back to work. Light duty. Boring stuff, but not nothing. He feels useful again. He feels like he can spend his brain’s still incomplete tank of mental energy on something other than himself and his shit. Which is good. He feels clearer. Less bogged down.

By the time he’s getting ready to recertify, and get back to his work, he’s decided. No more waiting for a nebulous better. No more waiting for what feels like an appropriate amount of time post-Shannon to pass. Eddie is ready now. He wants to ask Buck to marry him. He’s going to do it. Because life is fucking short and unpredictable and Eddie is happy to be here to get the chance to do something he almost missed out on.

#daisies and briars writes #upward over the mountain fic #buck service dog fic

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kokofromwattpad · 2 years ago

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hello (●’◡’●)ﾉ Could u do the reader doing a break up prank on the dorm leaders? Twst

(SEMI)HEART ATTACK

Featuring: RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS, LEONA KINGSCHOLAR AND AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Plot: The prefect decides, for some reason or another to prank their boyfriend by breaking up with him. Whether it's for selfish gain or for a reaction, nobody knows.

Tw:fluff, a bit of crying, established relationship, romantic relationship

A/N: I am so fucking sorry for not posting, I have been struggling with my mental health for the past few weeks and interacting with my socials just was not on my priority list. I have been visiting a therapist to help sort through my problems and I hope ya'll understand.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

Riddle layed in the prefect's squeaky bed at Ramshackle dorm. The housewarden was snuggled up and had his arms wrapped around the prefect's waist. The prefect themself rested their head right above Riddle's, giving the boy little kisses every now and then.

The prefect had their old, battered airpods plugged in their ears as they watched magicam videos. As they scrolled, they came across one of those cringy couple accounts where they constantly pulled pranks on one another for views.

In this specific video, it showed a woman pretending to break up with her boyfriend. The boyfriend's reaction was kind of desperate. He begged her not to break up with her but then said that he would let her leave if she really wanted to break up with him.

This video got the cogs in prefect's brain turning. What would Riddle's reaction be? Would he scream angrily and smash all of their belongings? Would he start crying and begging for them not to break up with him? Would he go stoic and completely cut them out of his life? Honestly, the prefect was kinda worried.

But for the sake of their curiosity, the prefect plucked up the courage to gently tap Riddle on his back, silently asking him to look at them. Riddle turned his head up to see their eyes. And by the seven, was he adorable. If the prefect didn't previously know him as the cold-hearted queen of heartslabyul, they would have thought that he was just an innocent boy with a lot of love in his heart.

"Yes darling?" Riddle gently asked with a slight glimmer-y look in his eyes.

"Can I talk to you about something?" The prefect nervously asked, trying to keep their facade up.

"Anthing you want"

"I think we should take a break from each other"

The silence in the room was almost deafening. Riddle's eyes widened with shock. What the hell did they mean by that? Did they want to break up with him? Why? Was he unconsciously going back to his old, hot-tempered self? Is that why they want to leave him?

Riddle looked down from their (perhaps) lover. He was trying so hard not to start tearing up. After the prefect heard the first sob escape his trembling lips, they scooped him up tighter in their arms and started apologizing profusely.

In between sobs and soothing whispers, a mumbly "You're not breaking up with me?"

The prefect softly kissed Riddle's lips and said with no uncertainty,

"Never."

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

It was one of those warm spring days, where all you want to do is curl up and forget about all of your problems. And it seemed like Leona was taking every opportunity to do just that.

Professor Crewel had asked the prefect to wake up and bring back Leona to continue the rest of his classes. The moment the beastman's name left the professor's lips, the prefect knew that the prince was going to be a pain in the ass to deal with.(affectionate)

So off the prefect went, to whisk their housewarden boyfriend back to class so that he could actually pass the year.

The prefect went to their and Leona's usual napping place in the greenhouse first to see if he was there. Lo and behold, there was the prince, conked out and snoring like a middle aged man.

"Leona! Darling! Love of my life! Snookums! Sweetheart lolipop" yelled the prefect, trying to gain the prince's attention.

Leona just grumbled angrily, flicking his tail and turned to his side to try and block out their lover's loud voice.

The prefect got close to Leona's sleeping face and leanded, "Leona, I think we should take a break from each other."

The prince snapped his head up at his lover's words. What the hell did they mean take a break? As in break up? Hell no! Absolutely not! You're his lover! His forever! His break from reality! You can't just leave him!

Leona sat up from his laying position and stared at the prefect right into their eyes. Dammit they have pretty eyes.

"That's not gonna happen. Nuh uh." Leona spat out as he grabbed onto the prefect's wrist.

"If you truley want to stay with me, get up and follow me."

Immediately, Leona jumped onto his feet and wrapped one of his arms around his lover's shoulder.

Before Leona knew it, he was back in class with an odd, dazed look on his face.

You almost broke up with him for not going to class.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

The prefect had a test coming up that would depend if they would pass or fail the subject therefore depending if they would have to redo a year or not.

So obviously, the most logical solution was to call up their very nice, adorable, kind, smart and caring boyfriend.

"No."

What did he mean no?

Azul smirks at his lover's surprised face. Aren't they so adorable when they're stunned? Oh, he could just pinch your cheeks!

A 'huh' slipped out of the prefect's lips. They were utterly surprised. They honestly thought that Azul would help them! I mean! This test was going to determine if they had to redo a year! If they fail this, Azul would have already graduated by the time of their third year anniversary.

Azul, the smug bastard, was smirking wickedly at his lover's spiral. He was going to strike a deal with them. If he helps them study, they will repay him by doing a small performance in the mostro lounge as entertainment for his guests.

However, this was not the first time Azul tried to strike this deal with his lover. Oh no! He's done this over six times already in the past. So, the prefect already assumed that the next words coming out of Azul's mouth would be his deal.

And so, before the merman could get a word out, the prefect exclaimed in false anger, "That's it! We're over!"

And with that, they stormed out of Azul's office with a little pep in their step.

Azul was absolutely stunned from their action. Is he single now? No, no.... that can't be! How could his lovely prefect breakup with him?!

Azul jumped from his armchair and rushed after his (ex) lover. He ran and ran until he saw the back of the prefects head.

"Sweetheart, please, it was just a joke. I-I never meant to hurt you. Please don't breakup with me." Azul cried out.

It sounded as if he was about to cry. Tears already brimming the bottom of his eyelid.

The prefect smiled gently and turned to cup Azul's cheeks into their hands.

"Help me study for this test and I'll take you back."

Azul was shocked to say the least, but he chuckled and agreed to his lover's words.

#twisted wonderland #twst #kokowrites #kokoscenarios #kokofluff #riddle #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader

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dozing-marshmallow · 1 year ago

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Hi!! Love the fic that you wrote of reader visiting Chris in prison. Could you write an angsty follow-up of reader finally breaking up with him after he gets out of prison with her being fed up with his unablity to change his negative thoughts and actions.

Ouchhh! Quite angsty, indeed!

HEY EVERYONE! Sorry for my long due absence. I’m currently in the middle of exam season, so that’s been taking up majority of my time, but I can say with certainty that afterwards (in four weeks), I’ll be free to post as frequently as I did before and complete all the requests I received! Thank you all for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy part 2 of this one shot!

Content warning, this one shot involves dysfunctional relationships, so please read at own risk.

CHRIS MCLEAN IN JAIL PART 2- ANGST

“(Y/NNNNN)!” your sweet separated husband exclaims, fixing his arms around you on his return home,“It’s so great to be back again!”

“H-Hi Chris...” you cough, squeezing him back,“How do you feel?”

“Better!” he chirped, patting your spine,“You know, I actually feel like a changed person!”

“Really?” Yeah right.

He nods, pulling away, that grin of his never ageing,“Yep! I realllyyy feel like a functioning member of society, ready to amend and give back!”

Yeah right.

You never thought you would be in the back kitchen with Chef about this.

Two years after his first release.

That’s right.

With heavy bags and sore limbs, you desperately explain,“I’ve tried to convince him to see a therapist or go to marriage counselling sessions with me, but he doesn’t listen!” you wince down to the ground. That word “marriage” felt more like “Hell” to you,“I feel like he’s getting worse and worse...”

“What can you do, (Y/N)? By law, he’s a grown man. No one, not even his mom can tell him what to do.” Chef Hatchet grunted, slicing some potatoes, as though he was not surprised,“Have you considered divorce?”

Divorce!,“That’s ridiculous, Chef. You know you can’t just file a divorce whenever you want. Marriage is a lifetime commitment and I still see the man I love.”

“And it’s that he’s takin’ advantage of.” That knife went blunter this time around,“He thinks it’s okay to go about like a criminal, because he has the money and popularity to get out of it, but if you walk out on him, he’ll eventually realise what he’s lost. I’m dead serious. You keep sticking by him like this, he’ll never change.”

“Hm...” that was an interesting way of thinking, you’ll admit. Maybe it was time to start looking into divorce? But... “What if that approach just turns out for the worst? You know how he is. He’ll turn the tables and play victim, putting the blame on me for not being strong enough to support him and for breaking my promise for making my love conditional-“

Chef looks at you like the pieces were threatening to cut your fingers off,“Do you even hear yourself as you speak about him?”

You stop.

Dang it, he had a point,“But divorce... It still feels a bit too drastic. Besides, I want to give him a chance.” you offer a strong smile.

He paused entirely in his vegetable slicing this time,“A chance?”

Oh... Yes, you’ve given him plenty of chances already. You force the smile to stay on, as convincing as you tried,“W-We’ll just see how it goes. Besides, I still really wanna make this work.”

Your husband’s so-called best friend shakes his head, leaving you with a pitiful glimmer in his eye,“You’re a good woman, (Y/N). You don’t deserve this.”

Well, you wish you listened to him sooner.

And at some point, you couldn’t take it anymore.

So one day, when you got your suitcase ready and your temporary accommodation sorted in secret, you mustered the courage to break it off.

Your heart was leaping. From what? Anxiety? Excitement? Both? You’ll never know.

It took a lot to get this far. You were going to see it through the end.

No matter how messy it will be.

Obviously when you gently touched on Chris’ behaviour as the reason why you were filing for divorce, he tried denying it,“What are you talking about? I’m a changed man! Prison’s changed me for the better!”

Oh please,“Unless it’s Opposite Day, you should not be using that word.”

You weren’t afraid and that’s what startled him,"N-Now who gave you the right to declare the end of this relationship?! Only I get to choose whether to throw you out on the street or keep you around!” he then strangely turned his head to lean the smooth skin on his cheekbone in your face,“Now give me a kiss."

You almost puke in your mouth,“I’m serious, Chris. I want nothing to do with you anymore.”

“Serious? What do you know about serious? You don’t understand anything!” he barked, slamming his fist on the table.

Your eyelids remained just halfway down,“I understand plenty.”

“No, you don’t! You don’t understand that this is a really dumb decision! We’ve had so many great memories (Y/N), you and I!” his defensive tone morphs into a tone of love,“I love you so much, more than Total Drama ratings! And you give meaning to my life, more than any show I’ve ever hosted!”

There it is. He says all these words then treats you like a broken clock. You made sure he witnessed your sight tap on the papers you laid out for him.

“You’re totally being dramatic! In the worst way possible! I literally give you the life, not even middle class peasants can dream of, and this is what you do to me!?” he was raising his voice. The sign of desperation,“How do you think I feel? Have some respect!”

Respect, huh? You scoffed, rolling the pen further to him,“Oh I’ve tried to be respectful, Chris. In fact, I would much rather live as a “middle class peasant” than live with you any longer.”

He gasps, before snarling,“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.” Chris was too arrogant to get physical with you, and you knew that. The worst he was gonna do is throw petty insults at you.

But he took a scarier approach. He wasn’t fuming or swearing or raving; a smile drew on his lips instead as he sprinkled sugar laced words in your direction.

“Awww. Don’t let your anger speak for you, darling. You know sooner or later, you’re gonna regret ending us like this. And I won’t let that happen. I won’t let you regret losing me. Losing us,” now he has your waist in his arm,“Come on sweetheart, talk to me. I know you just need someone to listen.”

Listen. Is that a fucking joke?

Adoration emitted from his eyes into yours,“We can talk about this. We can talk and exchange forgiveness like we always do. Because we love each other. We’ll come around to see eye to eye and I’ll forgive you for being so annoying.” His other hand begins to comb your hair,“We can forget this ever happened and I’ll even treat you to an awesome date night. I know you really love those, and I would be more than happy to give it to you, as your beloved husband.”

...The thought was tempting.

TAKE YOUR FILTHY HAND OFF ME.

But that was a lot more motivating.

“Nice try. Your empty promises won’t work on me this time.” you push him away. That’s it. You’re strong, you’re strong, you’re strong!,“I don’t need your money. Or your time. I can do fine on my own.”

He stopped running his hand in your hair. Oh, the pride you felt when you watched his bottom lip quiver! You could watch the scene over and over again.

Your instinct to smirk is quickly cowered when Chris shoves you away, thankfully not so forceful to make you lose balance completely as he huffed, that charming persona displaced by his true ugly.

“You want your stupid divorce? Fine!” He angrily scratches the papers with his signature,“There’s your stupid divorce! Now get out of my sight before I change my mind! Only a stupid whore like you would go through with making the awesomest celebrity in the world give up on you! You better not come crawling back after selling your body around for six dollars!”

Wow! Who knew he would resort to sexualising you in such a derogatory way to try get a reaction from you? “No... That’s not true! You know I would never do that! I’m more than just my body!”

“I’ll take the six dollars over you any day.” Hah! Who cares what he had to say? He’s not your husband anymore!

He gritted his teeth as he witnessed you leave his mansion one last time,“You’re ruined, you hear me!? I’ll make sure you lose your job and never find one again!” That’s not true. That’s not true,“I’ll see to it that you live on animal carcasses disposed by yours truly for the rest of your moping days, in conditions more suffocating than maximum prison!”

Such is the behaviour of a scumbag who lost control.

That was the right thing.

Thank Heavens you had your loyal friends and your own ethical job. If any of these things were different, even by a tiny bit, you probably would have still been stuck with Chris McLean. Chained. Trapped. Miserable.

This was the right thing.

You don’t want to think about what could have happened. The important thing was, you got out of it, and he wasn’t your problem anymore. Yet a part of you felt so dissatisfied with how the whole ordeal went. I thought I would feel more different... Why do I still feel something missing? Is this actually the end of our life together?

And your mind, learning from the worst, continued the cycle of torment. Was that really the best way to end things? Why didn’t you leave sooner? Was it really the right choice? Why did you waste so much with him? Were you still in love with him? Is it really too late to start over with love again? Did you really make the worst choice yet by leaving him?

You take a deep breath, and stare back into the eyes of the solitary woman, whose worth was still blinded by the thorns of that demon.

Her brain is pounding from the silence. This might take some getting used to.

You turn the tap on and sigh. For now, you’ll take a nice long shower.

#tdi #tdi x reader #total drama #request #td chris #chris mclean #chris mclean x reader #total drama chris mclean #total drama island chris #td chris mclean x reader #total drama chris

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vampir-ish · 2 months ago

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its hard to formulate how i feel about all of this so ill just. Tell it how it is

i was raised in a very unstable household as a very unusual child, my first interest Ever was fnaf for some perspective. i had unlimited internet access because Well my parents were too busy arguing and my mom was too doped out on her medication to check on things like that. when i was maybe around 8ish or whatever (i have no recollection of my earlier life for. Apparent reasons) i had discovered sparklecare after finding the comics website through some animation meme nonsense. i know i was absolutely not the targeted age demographic but it felt safe, it didn't feel double sided or wrong like all that other shit i wasn't allowed to watch (But did anyways), in a way sparklecare steered me clear of more dangerous places on the internet because i had become infatuated. i would sit in my closet and read the updates on my moms ipad mini.

i had followed the comic ever since. it really fundamentally shaped my art and aesthetics to this day. everything i have now is bathed in multicolor, checkers, patterns, and a never ending assortment of ocs because of sparklecare. hell, in every story i make theres always some sort of hospital present because of this. it pushed me to draw, to make my own ocs about my own issues, it was the main driving force for a lot of things, one of the most influential things for me

i fell off a bit from reading sparklecare around 2019ish because i had too much going on life wise and i was in Not so safe spaces again, dealing with the years of bullying on my track not only for how i spoke or where i was from but also the things i liked, entering an immensely unhealthy online relationship as the pandemic hit, the works. i picked sparklecare back up again eventually and it felt like home, something i used to indulge in before i moved countries, before it got worse, etc. it jumpstarted my personality i had before i went through everything, but with a new light.

even at the time sparklecare would've been regarded something more on the immature and even "cringe" compared to my other interests, how the reboot had significantly fluffed things up compared to the preboot. i now realize this was probably because kc was slowly and slowly twisting into her own echochamber and i didn't see it because i was like 13 i wasn't gonna tell this grown woman what to do with her comic.

i kept reading everything, every Monday and Wednesday morning i would wait diligently while i was at school. it had shaped everything id done, and it was one of those things i could never throw away. this tripled with the creation of cometcare, i was infatuated with the whole branching family dynamics i had in my own ocs for the longest time, and inspired me to make my own, to be looser with my art and ocs. sparklecare was the last interest i had expected to turn rotten, it was so sickingly sweet and placating to everything.

then im sure as you can imagine the whole exposee went off a month or two ago (i really cant even tell how long its been) and ive been in a whirlwind of emotions whenever i think about sparklecare since. everything had a double meaning. everything was made with sinister intentions, 16 year old me was unknowingly playing into this grown womans fetishes and there was nothing i could've done to know. it still revolts me. i had done nothing but love and appreciate this comic, despite all its flaws, despite the dogshit art quality now, the crammed in headcanons, the spiraling family tree, etc. now i was just one of the many many people she had fetish mined for something so, so disgusting, and depraved, that she convinces herself is okay. with the same words she used to comfort the victims of so many injustices including myself, she span them in a way to justify her abuse of others.

i understand shes been through things. she's grown. shes been "coping" for years on end and has only gotten worse. she has a therapist. her so called "therapist" clearly doesn't exist or is some douche from craigslist thats part of some underground ring and is trying to rope her in.

its sickening to see the characters i so lovingly become part of my identity, plastered them everywhere, drew them, wrote about them, gushed about them, CARED about them, now be played in some weird sick incest fantasy on that disgusting blog. it feels like they've been gutted alive and are being puppeted by somebody else and i can't do anything but watch. i feel like im in the fucking comic myself and cuddles is making me watch some helplessly edgy shit like that meat puppet nonsense.

but i also used to have a sense of care for kittycorn too because so much of this art was about her, made by her, driven by her. she's so diligent and careful about the image she shows publicly. it was all calculated, it's impossible to say it wasn't. all the kind asks i sent in her inbox, not knowing i was speaking to someone so abhorrent. she knew. she knows, she can't keep it up forever.

It's been tough watching as this perversion encroaches on so much that i loved, never seeing it coming, not knowing i was a PART of it. not knowing for how long.

it is so evil to make a community based on a whole comic about being traumatized and oppressed by abusers, just for it to deliberately be some kind of underground abuse scheme under everyones noses. and it was intentional. she wanted to lure the vulnerable in. she wanted to hurt everybody because in her eyes its right. its coping. its whatever. shes never wrong.

it hurts, and i dont know what to feel about it. i dont know where to place my emotions, i dont know what to do, and i dont know where to go. i carry on with life anyways, because at the end of the day it was just a comic i read when i was young, but it stings.

all i will do, is wish the best for every single last victim of this mongrel, keep up with them, and take back from this comic, which the community only gave and gave and gave to it. she does not get to run away with all of it. i hope everyones staying safe and i love all of the anti sparklecare bunches.

kittygroomercorn and her menagerie of scum will see an end, whether they like or not, and i wish nothing but to the worst to the likes of them, you're never getting away with this, and i hope you're aware of that. eat shit and die kc.

ill be posting my redesigns possibly whatevrvr

#sparklecare #cometcare #anticare #sparklecare hospital #proshippers kys #fuck proshippers

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theposhsworld · 9 months ago

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On level down propaganda : my psychologist talked about the connection of emotional health to physical health as my husband and I have begun to age .. stuff accumulates. I thought this emotional energy stuff was woo woo. My husband and I have to invest in adding positivity now. We were at a funeral of a friend over the weekend that my husband went to school with. We are at the age people get all sorts of stuff and die off if not careful.

I look cute but soon will be all the check ups, blood tests but also if I become lazy to go to the gym I could be unalive sooner. Sh*t gets real at 40, all your actions have serious consequences and you can’t do the stupid stuff of your twenties, you really have to get your diet, physical health and mental health in order.

So today my therapist talk to us about the importance of mental hygiene when aging. I always used a therapist to get ahead of the game because inner work pays dividends, not because I have problems. When you have problems it’s great to have a system of what to do and support system because you were doing inner work before any problems.

So we were discussing emotional energy and looking at this chart I could not help but see how level down Marxist victim mindset propaganda pushed by leftist old money to gate keep keeps you at the bottom of the chart spiritually so you don’t level up. If you think you are a victim of whiteys or are a white rural girl who moved to a big city having white guilt .. you are too low vibrational to move up and become new money and pose a threat to elite.

Muslims - all anti Zionism that is pumped with strong emotions on the internet has victim mindset anti colonialist propaganda meant to keep Arabs down. Stop being such a nice girl doormat & let Palestine go until Palestinians drop the victim mindset propaganda- your life will level up like crazy and mine did!

Let injustice happen to victim mindset people & mind your bloody business. Let children diee and don't let their parents drag you to hell with them. You are only responsible for yourself & your family, your kids. Part of leveling up is letting other people's children diee because you can't do anything about it except ruin your life. Victim mindset people feel entitled to your energy and effort & don't care that you suffer because of them.

Mainstream media deliberately pushes low vibrational content to gatekeep and prevent people from leveling up down to promoting ugly modern interior design and ugly art. Watch out for low vibrations from the mainstream and do the opposite!

To get anywhere you have to match the emotional energy. Being a hottie with hobbies is a great way to increase your emotional vibration. Doing ikebana brought a lot of positive emotional energy into my home. Ladies stop being men fighting injustice and make floral arrangements instead. Let men fight wars and protect and create the beauty at home that gives them something to fight for, protect, provide, live and die for.

We are the creators of life from having children but also the ones who can make life worth living by appreciating, loving and creating beauty.. not just ourselves but in our surroundings. One day my beauty will be no more but I will leave behind me gardens of beauty. I enjoy working with flowers but I like gardening humans.. I love taking confused ladies and turning them into beautiful confident queens who stepped into their own power.

We are not effective at fighting war but we can make life worth living, even by cleaning our home and keeping some flowers alive, adding some pretty decor. Can be simple but a loving touch does a lot. Mainstream media is doing spiritual warfare to gatekeep. Just ignore it and focus on creating beauty and joy around in a way men too busy providing and protecting cannot . That creates tremendous value.

Your energy is priceless

Pearl Notes can back me up on your energy being priceless.

Cultivate your positive vibration through gratitude and beauty & don’t let anyone manipulate you out of it as a woman especially manipulate you into being a weak man trying too fight injustice they are too weak to do anything about. Instead ignore injustice and make flower arrangements or play an instrument & write gratitude journals so you give your men strength and morale to rise to the occasion to protect the survivors of injustice.

In everything you do especially when you have strong emotions don’t forget this vibration list and don’t let people manipulate you into being in your negative energy too long especially if they are not paying your bills or haven’t deposited a lot of positive energy as a friend that they can withdraw from the emotion energy bank once in a while like having a shoulder to cry on when there is a funeral.

Always check your energy as frequently as your bank balance. Audit your emotional energy to make sure people are not playing you to lower your vibration so that you fumble the bag. When you see yourself in a negative energy too long add positive to balance.

Any “I am a victim of the system “ is low vibration low energy to keep you from leveling up which is why I am not a feminist, not an anti Zionist, not an anti colonialist, not a socialist nor Marxist.

Ladies like I said focus on the bag, keep your eye on the money and a lot of garbage will be cleaned out of your life & you will be protected from a lot of manipulation

Credit Maria Al Masani

#spoiled gf #feminine #hypergamy #dating

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tornoleander · 11 months ago

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I'm in the middle of reading wytyaa cuz I saw you mention it at some point and it sounded cool

Anyway, if wytyaa Jay and bbnb Jay ever met, and you somehow got them to traumadump on eachother, both of them would think "First Master, this guy went through hell. Compared to him I had it easy." Meanwhile neithed had it easy and both went through hell.

Might be wrong cuz I haven't finished wytyaa yet but I'm gonna go back to reading now byeeeeee

Oh I’m going to rant for a while because I love talking about and comparing these Fics.

YES, I can absolutely see both them sitting there and invalidate their own experiences. (Unless one of them gets a very important lesson about comparing Trauma)

Art under cut

Trauma dumping though? Currently I doubt wytyaa Jay would. And while bbnb Jay seems willingly to talk to his therapist there’s not a chance 16 year old him from an alternate universe will learn the extent of the shit I had to read through.

The have similar canon complaint story line, to an extent. Both fix my many issues with Cannon and add so much more. Both deal in forced labor extreme physical abuse blood wounds broken bones Starvation With emotional abuse from Nadakhan’s and the crew. But everything beyond that is where things drastically differ

Biggest difference being Explicit vs Mature

Wytyaa being vaguely 16+ and won’t go past implying anything sexual. So a lot is left to interpretation, which is usually easier to handle.

While Bbnb has be 18+ Does not shy away from anything….. no matter how much you wish it would most popular ninjago dead dove for a reason.

Wytyaa Jay is drugged out for the 2 months he has to deal with the withdrawal and wiped memories coming back to him. This scrambles the order you learn about what he went through. Vengestone sorta poisons him, the power suppression is painful and causes long term damage.

In the end Neither Jay is given a moment to feel safe and comfortable over months they are always in extreme danger this is the sort of damage that turns ptsd into C-ptsd✨

Like you said, neither had it easy they both went through hell.

But while comparing trauma is ultimately unhelpful experiences effect people differently both Jays are very traumatized I can tell you one of these was A LOT harder to get through as a reader. VERY much not the same reader experience.

Here’s are the fics with the obligatory READ THE TAGS and warnings at the top of each chapter. They are there for your safety when r themes of sa can be helpful and hurtful to some. Know what you can handle..

When you think your all alone by @mondothebombo

Bending but never breaking by @writing-hat

Both authors are awesome and have read each other Fics lmao.

Never posted this but a long while ago when both fics left off on angst for a long time I messaged them the same thing and got these replies.

The Audacity of hat to blame mondo lol.

If any of you like these fics follow me cause I have a lot of art coming. Also if you have any asks don’t be shy! I could rant for so much longer.

#oli asks #bbnb #bending but never breaking #when you think you're all alone #wytyaa #tw sa implied #only Vauge and brief here but still #ninjago angst #hat tag #mondo tag #hehe hi #I know we’re moot but I’m still just a fan lol #oli art

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wodniars-void · 3 months ago

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hi :) i've been thinking about terra lately but i don't really have any solid thoughts. his ass got torn asunder. scattered to the winds. a million deaths inflicted upon him. he's gotta be like, severely fucked up from that right? he already had Issues pre/during bbs but now he has fun, new, different issues!

anyways i adore your au/idea about terra seeing ghosts of the khdr characters from the hc post!! i really like scenarios that allow characters to interact who would never interact otherwise!!!!!! also i just love when terra's whole precog/visions thing is addressed it's sooo interesting to me i wish it came up more often in canon. also hell yeah aroace terra hc (projecting)

if you have any more Terra Thoughts and/or thoughts about that specific au from the hcs post i'd love to hear them <3

Hi!!!! Thank you for your ask!!! Sorry to keep this in my hoard for so long �� I am so happy to be a Terra thought repository <3 I'm writing this with a Terra plushie and at least two wayfinder charms in my near vicinity, lol.

You are absolutely correct, I believe the shattering Terra experienced was deeply traumatic. I mean, his three basic components of personhood were split apart! Combined with his pre-existing self esteem issues, it's not a great time. However, I also think his time in contact with Eraqus' heart was healing for both of them. They had a lot of time to talk and understand each other. So he's not in as bad of shape as he could be? Definitely should still visit a therapist, though!

I'm glad you enjoy the ghost au!! I also love unlikely character interactions, that's honestly a driving force here lol. I just think the Dark Road kids are neat and should be around more <3 And I think they'd like the Wayfinders a lot!!!! I imagine Vor and Terra being "workout" buddies, and Urd and Aqua comparing magic strategies, and Hermod helping Ven with homework :3 They could be friends!!! Not that Ven and Aqua can usually see the DR kids, but hey, Terra can play messenger.

When the DR kids are around, they look mostly like normal people, just slightly transparent and with a glowing golden outline. Y'know, like the other Hearts we've seen, just only visible to Terra. In extreme distress, their death wounds appear. Which are mostly varying sword wounds, but Hermod and Urd's leak Darkness from the corridor. Vor's is sort of scabbed over from Eraqus and Xehanort trying to save her. Bragi, when he rarely appears, has thick bruises on his neck (shoutout to No Vacancy by Rosie-Kairi!). Luxu picking up Braig sorta set his heart free, and he followed Xehanort to the LoD where the others were. However, his heart is in poor condition as a result of the trauma of the Snatching, so he doesn't show up as often. Terra is a good shoulder to lean on when he does. The thought of someone around Ven's age going through what he did makes Terra kind of sick.

Seeing ghosts is at first… a bit of a shock. In a way, Terra hadn't really come to terms with the fact that he'd DIED until then. Like yeah, it was really bad, but he sort of had to grapple with it not only being death, but a very bad kind of death. A fate almost worse than death. He was denied the peace of a true death and forced to remain in the world, shattered and bound. Being confronted with fellow spirits makes him face that. He was LUCKY it was even possible to put him back together. If even one component had been missing or had moved on, that would've been it. That's a terrifying reality to confront.

When that's past, it really becomes something of a new normal surprisingly quickly. Terra is a man of routine, sure, but the DR kids wiggle their way into it the same way Ven did when he first arrived. Aqua and Ven get used to walking in on Terra seemingly talking to thin air. Academics aren't his strongest suit (Aqua has always been the scholar between the three of them) but he tries his best to teach them updated science and history and the like. Aqua helps with the lesson plans! It's just hard for her to teach people she can't see. At some point they take a field trip to Radiant Garden to learn about computers and the internet (a lesson the Wayfinders are also in dire need of. Ienzo is a good teacher though!)

While in Radiant Garden they do try to study the DR crew's hearts, just trying to scan them- like a check-up! Well, Urd, Hermod, and Vor at least- Bragi is adamant his heart's been through enough, thank you very much. He doesn't admit it, but he hates being in Radiant Garden- too many bad memories. He sticks around to get the lecture on computers and dips.

As for the others, scanning their hearts is a bit trickier than anyone really anticipated. They're not tangible beings, so there's nothing to stick a sensor to or anything. They have to improvise a little! I'm imagining a tool somewhat like a metal detector wand or an Among Us Medbay Scanner. For added visual effect I think they sort of ripple into existence starting from the point where the scanner is, as transparent golden figures. Nothing new on Terra's end, but it lets everyone else see what he's been seeing the whole time! I think it'd be really magical in that moment, to be seen. Not just by one person (though Terra is lovely and tries very hard to help however he can) but to be seen by a whole room of people, for the first time since you died. The long quiet of death can get lonely, even with your fellow spirits beside you. You almost feel alive again, smiling and laughing and making eye contact with every person there, and knowing they are looking at YOU.

It's nice to be seen, is what I'm saying. And Terra helps them feel seen for the first time in a long time. That's the crux of the matter. Terra has been the invisible, the tethered, the ghost. And nobody sees the invisible like those who have been invisible themselves.

Also Baldr isn't here because he went straight to Kingdom Hearts to be with Hoder! And even if he was around he wouldn't love hanging out with the people he murdered, and they wouldn't love having him around either.

Thank you again for this lovely ask! I've had it in my drafts for so long, my apologies there. I love the Dark Road kids and Terra so much <3

#ask #prysmatica #terra sees ghosts au #i had this in my computer notepad in order to write it in the khux/dr font <3

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system-of-a-feather · 6 months ago

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So I was getting off work and talking to one of the therapists I work with and they commented that it's "amazing how much life you've lived despite being so young" and honestly... of course I've lived a lot of life, I've lived my own life over at least 10 times worth - each with a drastically different perspective and narrative. I may only be 23, but the amount of time I spent going my life and the parts that stood out the most to each version of myself that existed to heal, I might as well have fit 200 years of life into 23.

Of course I'm not claiming to be the same as someone who is 200, but narrative, I have so many stories and telling of my life and those that have been in it, so many stories of successes and losses and stories of doing things from so many different roles and existing as a different person in so so so many spaces, of course it seems like I've lived so much life.

I think in some ways, that's a thing I really appreciate about having DID / having had DID. I've been able to experience my life in so many different angles, view points, perspectives - I have memories of being vulnerable and having someone there internally to pick me up against the chaos of life; I have memories of seeing a vulnerable child lost in hell and putting myself out there to help them despite my own uncertainty; I have memories of being a terrified lonely child scared of their family and just wanting someone to save them, and I also have memories of being an "older sister" of sorts and being angry that anyone would leave such a sad and scared kid to feel this way; I have memories of loosing my whole world and blaming myself for it, I have memories of seeing someone feel themselves loose everything they cared for and having to figure out how to help them out.

I have memories of disagreeing with another version of myself about how to care for a part that couldn't speak for themselves. I have memories of fearing loosing control of myself and hurting someone. I have memories of actively wanting to hurt as many people as I could. I have memories of wanting to die. I have memories of wanting to kill 'me' even at the cost of myself.

There has been so much that I've done - each life event spawned 20+ different narratives and perspectives and ways of understanding how things happened, and now that they are all in front of me and open for me to look at and look through, I enjoy changing my hats from one hat to the next and experiencing the same world, the same life in a different lens - a different unreliable narrator and really find myself able to collect more and more insight from each slightly different perspective.

I honestly am thankful I had DID for the insight, experience, and life it has given me. I am also thankful that I had DID because it made my traumatic life more manageable, more tolerable and healing... oddly fun. I am thankful that DID made it so that trauma work became somewhat fun as it now is an honor to be able to meet those vulnerable parts of myself and help them feel comfortable in a much much more literal sense than most do - even in IFS therapy.

I am thankful DID made me nurture such a strong sense of self love, self worth, and self compassion.

#actuallydid #trauma processing #journaling #feathers speaks #i'm also sittign here with TT #they're a good kid and sharing a few thoughts on the matter with me as I write

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logosbot-tm-fics · 1 year ago

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Soooo...I'm back-

Enjoy!

Take My Tea With Formaldehyde

[Start] [<Previous] [Next>]

Chapter 15: Feeling Lighthearted

(More beneath the cut)

It was like a breath of fresh air to discover that things could get easier. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him. Maybe it should have been obvious that he didn’t have to live in this quiet sort of misery any more, but it still feels as though it took Mumbo by surprise. It surprised him that doing things was easier. That it was easier to exist and actually feel like a human.

Having a clean apartment felt like a restart. The same way it feels like a restart when you finally shower after being sick, as if cleaning out the dirt had also cleaned up his mind. Getting back into routines, going to work, and taking care of himself was strangely easy. As much as he felt relieved about how simple it was, it also bugged him slightly. Things had changed, and it barely felt like it.

Maybe that was for the better.

As the days passed, he discovered small things that were suddenly a lot more convenient. Like finding stuff in the flat. Before, he had to go through piles of belongings that seemed to appear out of nowhere, but now everything was where it was supposed to be.

It was easier to get the energy to do the dishes, when he only had a small amount to do. Same went for doing laundry.

He had stopped sleeping in front of the TV, and had moved back into his bedroom. No longer did the blue light keep him awake, no longer was it his only company and, somehow, falling asleep in a clean room went quicker than in a messy one.

It was most likely not just the clean flat that made him feel better. Sure, it had definitely helped a lot, and had made day to day life a lot less overwhelming, but other things had to have helped as well.

The thing that had probably helped the most, the thing that felt like it was going to make the biggest difference, was that Mumbo was finally getting a therapist. It had been a long time coming, when he really reflected on the way that his mental state had declined so dramatically over the past months, but he hadn’t been ready. Maybe he still wasn’t, not to take that step by himself, at least.

Luckily, he had Iskall.

Iskall hadn't nagged him or forced him to get one. But they gently reminded him that it was an option whenever the opportunity arose. They helped him look, when he finally started to consider it, and reminded him to take a break when searching for options became too overwhelming. It took a little bit, but, eventually, the pair found one that seemed right.

Mumbo thought that it was a bit funny, in a way, that just trying to get help could be overwhelming. It’s just odd really, he would chuckle, that your mind wants to fight against getting the help you need.

That strange urge to run and hide from the help he was seeking was the clearest when Mumbo almost backed out of the first appointment. His legs had felt like jello, knees shaking like he was wearing shorts in a snowstorm. He hadn't been able to wipe the sweat off his palms, and his stomach had made him feel like throwing up what little food he'd been able to eat that day.

It was frightening, he had realized as he bit on the inside of his cheek. Getting help felt terrifying.

Hell, what would happen if it didn't help? What if the therapist thought that he was being silly? What if it turned out that he actually didn't have any issues, and functioned perfectly well, and was just making up stuff for attention? He must be blowing it out of proportion, right?

He was stuck on the kitchen floor for a little while, trying to force himself to calm down. He had sat down in a corner of the kitchen, a cup of tea he'd been meaning to drink cooling on the counter, his phone in hand, held with a desperate grip.

Mumbo chewed nervously and frantically on the inside of his cheek as he tried his hardest to breathe. He tried to run through all the various breathing exercises that he’d been learning, but nothing seemed to work. By the time that he bit at his cheek hard enough to draw blood, he finally managed to unlock his phone to call Iskall.

“Hallo?” Their voice erupted from the speaker, crackly and warped. “Iskall speaking.”

This was stupid. Childish even, Iskall surely would think so too. Mumbo's mind was telling him to hang up, he shouldn't have called. How can a grown man not get himself to go to the scheduled appointment? He was utterly ridiculous.

“Hi,” he forced out, blinking back the tears that were surging forward at the awful weight of his thoughts. “Um, it's Mumbo, I'm really sorry for calling, but I'm kinda, sorta- uh- on the verge of a breakdown?” Mumbo tried to be proud of himself for pushing through the feeling of hang-up-god-dammit-you-are-being-ridiculous that was spreading rapidly through his body and mind, but it was too hard. Everything was just too hard.

“Oh-” Iskall replied after what was probably only a couple of seconds, but still managed to feel so sudden that Mumbo almost jumped out of his skin. From the concern in their voice, he could vividly picture an Iskall with furrowed brows and downturned lips, and his hands only shook harder at the knowledge that he was causing them such concern. “Are you… hm, is there anything I can do to help?”

Mumbo nodded, fully aware that they couldn't see him. It made him feel even more stupid. “Yeah, uh- this is stupid, I'm sorry, but could you please come over?” He gasped, his chest tight. “I mean you don't have to, especially not if you're busy, but it would make everything just a tiny bit easier. I'm really sorry, you don't have to, I'm just panicking, it's silly, sorry.”

He heard Iskall let out a small, kind laugh, something so reassuring that he could’ve melted right then and there. “Hey, don't apologize, I asked if I could help. I'm currently not doing anything too important either way, so…” They went silent for a second. “I should probably be able to be at your place in about uh, forty minutes, I think? Is that okay? I just have a few things to finish up before leaving.”

Relief flooded Mumbo, rushing through him like ocean waves, calming after a storm. "Yeah, yeah, that'd be fine."

"You sure? I could maybe get to your place sooner, but-"

"No no, it's fine. I can wait," Mumbo responded, breathing calmer.

“Okay, I'll be there in a bit then,” Iskall replied, their voice even and calm. “Bye for now.”

“Bye.”

If Mumbo had to be honest with himself, he absolutely hated waiting. It usually paralyzed him, left him in a terrible stasis of sitting around and overthinking every possibility. However, this time it almost felt nice to have some time to gather himself before Iskall showed up.

During the forty minutes he spent waiting, he spent five of those sitting on the kitchen floor. Then he spent ten minutes laying on the floor instead, when it got difficult to breathe again. It took him a while to be able to stand up, his legs still feeling far too weak to even try, and he had lost track of the time when he eventually managed to get to his feet.

He took it slow, breathed in and out carefully, and leant on the counter with a shaky step forward. It wasn’t much, but still, he felt just that little bit better.

Mumbo glanced at the clock as he put his, now cold, cup of tea in the microwave, silently setting the timer and watching the seconds count down. He breathed in time with that too, using the boxy numbers as a reference for each inhale.

He flinched again when it beeped, despite his eagle-eyed focus on the timer, before slowly pulling the steaming cup out from inside. The last few minutes before Iskall’s arrival were spent sitting at the table just cradling the warm cup. He still felt too anxious to be able to drink it, but just holding it and letting the warmth put feeling back into his fingers was relaxing.

Then finally, the doorbell rang. A wave of silence filled Mumbo's head, his mind calming down a lot more. He had company now, Iskall was right outside. They’d listen to his worries, they’d take care of him.

Still a bit shaky, Mumbo made his way to the front door.

Iskall ended up sitting at the table with Mumbo for a while, as Mumbo vented his anxiety about the appointment. They didn't judge him, nor tell him that his anxiety was irrational, even though it surely was, they just listened in silence.

“You know, you don't have to go to therapy if you don't want to,” they said when Mumbo eventually ran out of steam, slumping back into his seat like a marionette with its strings cut.

He couldn’t stop himself from staring wide-eyed at the other for a few long moments, just watching Iskall’s expression, trying to understand exactly what they thought of him. “I-I know,” Mumbo settled on eventually. “I just…it feels like it would help. Even though I'm worried that it might not, or that I'm just exaggerating how I'm feeling, I feel like I should try.”

Iskall hummed in understanding. “I see, well…if you want - just as a suggestion - I could go with you?” They leant back in their chair as they took a sip of their tea. “I'd wait outside, then we could go for a coffee afterwards, and you can decide then if you'd like to go to another appointment.”

They paused for a moment, giving Mumbo a breath to process what they were suggesting, before pushing on.

“That way, you’ve given it a go. You’ve felt what it's like, and you can properly figure out if it's for you.” They nodded confidently, setting their teacup down with a quiet clink. “Also, it’d give you the opportunity to see if the therapist we’ve found is right for you or not.”

Mumbo turned the words over in his mind with a thoughtful hum. It seemed like a good idea, really. It did, in fact, make him feel better about the entire thing, and suddenly he realized just how badly he had been craving that familiar company. He hadn't even realized that he had felt like he had to go, despite not being fully sure if he wanted to; the thought of having a familiar face there to wave him in felt like a godsend.

It was like everything was finally clicking into place, and Mumbo hadn’t even realized that he was smiling.

He grinned up at Iskall, the warmth of his own tea seeping pleasantly into his hands. “Yeah,” Mumbo said, and it sounded almost confident. “Yeah, that'd be amazing.”

In the end, his therapist turned out to be lovely. She had a certain calm, understanding energy about her that made Mumbo relax almost as soon as he stepped into her office.

The entire situation still felt a bit weird, definitely, but that weirdness wasn’t so uncomfortable anymore. Instead, it felt almost exciting. He was glad that he was trying something new.

It just felt nice to talk to someone who didn't know him, and therefore wouldn't say things to just please him. Someone who listened just to listen, without Mumbo feeling as if he was a burden for talking. It was a bit anxiety inducing, since it was his first time, but it felt like that anxiety would disappear in the future, and by the end of the session, Mumbo felt a lot lighter.

“So?” Iskall asked with a smile, as the pair of them walked out of the building together.

“I'll go back next week,” Mumbo replied. “It was a lot nicer than I thought. I think it might genuinely help me a lot.”

Iskall smiled, the sort of smile that spreads so uncontrollably across your lips until the corners of your mouth ache. “That's good to hear,” they said, and they looked so happy. They looked so glad. “Now, how about that coffee?”

Mumbo only laughed in response. It might've just been his head making things up, but some part of him was so certain that smile looked proud.

It felt nice, to make his friend proud.

Another thing that helped was knowing that he had people who cared about him. Yes, he had his siblings and Iskall, but he had other people as well. They had fallen to the wayside a little in the midst of everything that had happened, a fact that Mumbo couldn’t help but feel guilty for, but that hadn’t seemed to change much. In fact, it felt exactly the same as it did before when Tango messaged him to invite him to hang out.

He said that he was planning a small get together, and had wondered if Mumbo was interested in joining. It would be him, Mumbo, Impulse, as well as a few of Tango's other friends: Zedaph, Skizz, and Cub.

The first thing Mumbo felt was a shockwave of anxiety. He couldn't say no to such a kind offer, but what if they didn't want him there? What if they just invited him out of courtesy? It would be out of character, sure, but he couldn’t blame them for not wanting to spend time with him. Especially when he had been so absent for the past few months.

But… something about that didn’t feel right.

So Mumbo took a step back, just like his therapist had once recommended to him. He took a second to breathe, to drink some water and refresh himself before looking at the message again. And, this time, as he looked over the first text that had been sent between them in weeks, (a text that very clearly wasn’t trying to pressure him or force him into anything; a text that left his options open), Mumbo knew that it was genuine.

He was a little ashamed of the surprise he felt at that, but it felt like a step in the right direction either way. Mumbo hadn’t ever really thought about it, but in the back of his mind there was a constant feeling that people - his friends, his colleagues, everyone - disliked him.

Getting invited to something and pushing past that feeling… it suddenly meant a lot more. It felt nice to know that people wanted to see him. It felt nice to know that people cared about him. Even if they weren't close, and even if they weren't Gr-

He pushed that thought away, good mood suddenly soured.

He should probably reply to Tango.

Mumbo felt a bit awkward as he stood outside of Tango's apartment, one shaking finger hovering above the doorbell. He knew that they wouldn't mind him being there, since he had been invited, but the muffled laughter sounding from inside made his heart twist.

Anxiety crept up his spine, whispering horrible promises into his ears. He really didn’t want to ruin the joy inside the flat, and a part of him worried that he would, whilst another stubbornly argued against it. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there like that, paralyzed under the frozen grasp of his fear, in half a mind to just turn around and leave. It might’ve been hours, though that was incredibly unlikely.

He only managed to snap out of his anxious daze when his phone pinged, a sharp noise that rang in his ears like the most obnoxious of yelling. He shook out his sweaty hands and took a deep breath, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Iskall’s in the back of his mind, telling him that he wasn’t alone. That it was okay to be here, and that it was okay if he needed to leave early. He was taking this at his own pace, and that’s alright.

He was welcome here, Mumbo reminded himself as he pressed the doorbell. He was visiting his friends, and they would be happy to see him.

It only took a second for the door to open, as if Tango had run for it the moment that Mumbo rang. He was laughing as he opened the door, his cheeks red with a full, rosy sort of happiness, and he beamed as he saw Mumbo waiting there.

“Dude!” Tango exclaimed, throwing his arms out for a hug. “I'm so happy that you decided to join, come on inside!”

Mumbo smiled in response, leaning into his hold with a deep inhale, before the pair were walking further into the apartment.

Tango handed him a hanger out of nowhere, gesturing to a rail where Mumbo could leave his coat. “Feel free to just leave that there. There's snacks in the kitchen if you want any, and we’re just hanging out in the living room for now!” He explained, hands waving around all the while. Mumbo responded with a nod.

“Awesome. Now, I gotta make sure that–” A loud crash interrupted whatever he was saying, and Mumbo watched a little dazedly as Tango’s brows shot up like something straight out of a cartoon, and he yelled, “Zedaph! I swear to God, if you–”

Whatever else he was trying to say was lost to another echoing crash, before Tango was sprinting back down the hall without so much as a second glance. Laughter erupted as the man disappeared around the corner, and Mumbo took another deep breath at the sudden chaos.

Well, he found himself relaxing. Might as well grab some food.

The energy in the living room was comfortable and infectious. As soon as Mumbo had sat down on the couch, a bag of crisps tucked under his arm, he got pulled into playing a board game.

As it turned out, Cub had brought a friend along as well, and Tango quickly decided that it would work best if they played in three separate teams. On one team it was Tango and Zedaph, another was Impulse and Skizz, and Mumbo ended up on a team with Cub, and his friend, Scar.

The first few rounds went pretty well, with Scar showing himself to be particularly adept at scamming everyone else out of points, including his own teammates, somehow. They quickly ended up in the lead, whilst Tango and Zed were second, and Impulse and Skizz were last. Lighthearted bickering was quick to follow between the two losing teams, which quickly distracted them from the game.

Mumbo silently watched them, his heart yet again twinged as it reminded him of the dynamic he, Iskall, and Grian used to have. He missed it. He missed it a lot, actually. He wished he could somehow turn back time, to before-

“Don't mind them,” Cub cut through the mayhem suddenly, as if noticing how Mumbo started to get lost in his thoughts. “The four of them have been close since high school, so they're bound to get a bit distracted,” he explained with a sharp grin.

“I can tell, they all seem to share a brain cell,” Mumbo smiled.

Cub leant back with a hearty laugh, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I suppose they do.”

Quiet fell between them then, but Mumbo found it wasn’t uncomfortable. He didn’t have any qualms with sitting back to watch the chaos unfold, and breaking the silence didn’t feel intimidating either. Something about that felt… new.

“How long have you known them?” Mumbo asked quickly, trying not to dwell on it as he turned to face Cub.

“Hm, not that long, really. I met Impulse in university, and he introduced me to Tango and Zed within a week. Apparently Zed was even on the same course as me, I had just never noticed until after I’d met him.” He shrugged. “Skizz showed up a little while later, since he lived in another city. So- not long. Scar, on the other hand…”

At that, Scar leaned into their conversation in a way that told Mumbo he thought he was being inconspicuous, like a cat who thinks you can’t see them because they’re moving slowly. He really wasn’t.

“I've known Impulse for a while!” He started. “Honestly, I can’t remember where we met. One second I didn't know him, and then, bam! I had known him for years.” He laughed, something buttery and pleasant. “He must've introduced me to the others as well, except for Skizz, I hadn't met him until now. Actually–”

As Scar kept talking, Mumbo found he couldn't help but to listen. Something about him was magnetizing, a sort of natural charisma that made him impossible to dislike. It was so reminiscent of- of-

“Well, anyway, that’s how we snuck a rooster into our final!” Scar concluded, before turning his attention to Mumbo. “Mumbo! A little birdy told me that you're a fan of Ariana?”

Apparently, at some point during Scar’s rambling, the others managed to drag Cub into their weird argument, leaving Scar and Mumbo to their conversation. He had barely noticed when it happened, but now he was cursing being left alone. It felt like his heart had stopped, blood rushing in his ears as the world around them fell deathly silent.

Memories of the Fridays spent on his couch, watching videos together with Grian clouded his mind like smoke. Memories of them laughing together, of them sitting in comfortable silence together.

“Uh, yes, I am,” Mumbo coughed, trying to get that smoke out of his lungs as quickly as he could. “I-I’ve been into her music for a while now, I've followed her for a few years. Which is honestly pretty funny, since my childhood friend, Iskall, is her manager. So, um, yeah.” He smiled awkwardly at Scar, clearing his throat again.

“Oh!” Scar exclaimed, something lighting up in his eyes, “I guess it really is a small world!” He laughed again, clapping his hands together excitedly.

Mumbo honestly felt a bit confused now. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“Oh, well, I know Iskall as well! I happen to be Ariana's bodyguard, actually,” he replied casually, as if he were talking about the weather. As if everyone worked with the most well-known celebrity in the country.

Mumbo's brain was absolutely whirring with the new information, as he filed through all the information that he knew about Ariana, (which, unsurprisingly, was quite a lot.)

“Oh!” He gasped as he recalled the name of Ariana’s head of security. “You're Scar Goodtimes?” He didn’t really mean to ask, but the question slipped out with such ease that Mumbo couldn’t even find it in himself to be ashamed.

“The one and only!” Scar said. “So you know my full name, but didn't recognise me?” He asked curiously.

Mumbo blushed. “Well, I’m rather face blind, if I’m honest… I always have been! I've seen photos of you, but you tend to be dressed in suits and sunglasses, so, uh, sorry. If you hadn't said anything I probably wouldn't have realized.”

“Ah, I see,” Scar nodded with a strict understanding. “That makes sense!”

They were quiet for a second as Mumbo processed the information, sifting through the things that he knew about Scar’s work in his mind. Then, he spoke again, “I, er, I hope you don't mind me asking, but… what is she like? I only know what Iskall’s told me, but they haven’t said much.”

Scar looked thoughtful, mulling over the question for a minute or two before he started, “Well, it's a bit hard to say! She's very sweet, and polite. One of the most humble celebrities I've worked with, that’s for sure, but other than that, I don't actually know much.” The man looked as if he was debating something then, so Mumbo stayed quiet, even as his words came to a stop.

“... She struggles a bit with her mental health from time to time,” Scar eventually seemed to decide on. “And she's a very private lady. The person who knows the most about her is definitely Iskall, and I don't know either of them that well, unfortunately.”

Mumbo nodded, the answer not coming as a surprise. “Well, thank you, anyway. I couldn’t help but to ask, I must admit that I'm rather curious about her.”

“Ah, no worries! I would've asked as well if the roles were reversed.” Scar replied with a smile. “Well, while I might not know much about Ariana, I certainly found out quite a lot about roosters. Let me tell you–”

Scar started talking again, and as Mumbo listened he found himself watching the rest of the group. He couldn't help but miss his own, the ones that were as close to him as these friends were to each other. He couldn't help but to miss Grian.

He felt an urge to text him, to ask him how he was doing, to beg him to please come over again, can we just talk?

Mumbo pushed the urge away as much as he could.

After his visit at Tango's, Mumbo found himself missing freshly cooked meals. Impulse had cooked up a feast later into the evening, a wide spread of vegetables and meats, all seasoned and baked to perfection, and even the thought of them now made his mouth water.

He’d been living off of instant ramen and frozen meals for too long, and it left his fridge and cabinets far too empty for comfort. Instead of being filled with food that he could actually use, it was filled with random jars he didn't remember buying, sauces he never used, pickled things, and random packets that looked a bit too suspicious. The vegetables he did have didn't look fresh at all, and also, where the hell did all these tubes come from?

He sighed heavily, desperately wanting to put off buying food to another day, since it was pouring outside. He would rather stay at home, drink some tea and watch whatever crap was on TV, but then his stomach growled again and he remembered Impulse’s cooking, and… damn it, he should go to the store.

After all, what would Iskall say if they saw his fridge now? What would they think? What would Gr-

Mumbo shook his head, snapping out of the train of thought. He didn't want to think about him, but ever since he was at Tango's, he had started to pop up in his head more and more. He sighed, waited for his mind to clear a bit. It hurt too much to think about him, about the things that he might say.

So, instead of thinking, Mumbo grabbed some reusable bags and sat down at the kitchen table. He very pointedly avoided looking at Grian’s seat as he made a list of the things he needed.

He read through the list a few times, double checked that he’d written tea down, and glanced through the cabinets one last time to see if he needed anything else.

When he couldn't find anything missing, Mumbo grabbed his coat, pulled on his boots, and started towards the store.

Half of the time, Mumbo found grocery shopping to be the most dull, boring and uninteresting thing on the planet, and at other times, he found it therapeutic to walk through the isles listening to music, crossing things off from the list.

This time, it was definitely the latter.

That was another one of those things that had made life a little bit better, to find joy in ordinary chores and mundane tasks. There was something pleasant about doing what he needed to, about taking care of himself, about being able to do small things that he would have previously dreaded with a smile.

Somehow, his motivation for cooking a decent meal didn’t disappear while he was out grocery shopping, and he even left with a solid meal plan scribbled down on the back of his shopping list. He walked out of the doors with two hefty bags and a pleasant lightness on his shoulders even so, and, in his good mood, Mumbo decided that he’d walk the nicer route home. It was longer, sure, but it let him wind through some lovely little side-streets and a vibrant park or two.

He stumbled on a cute bakery as he walked, a small, independent looking store with fresh bread lining the windows. The scent from the bakery was absolutely heavenly, and he couldn't stop himself from going back to it, just to buy some bread. Sure, he had bread he'd bought at the grocery store and buying more things only made the bags harder to carry, but bakery bread was always a lot better, so it was worth it.

So, Mumbo ended up with bags that were heavy, filled to the absolute brim with fresh vegetables and ripe fruits, as well as two loaves of freshly baked bread. He had to stop a few times on the walk home to let his arms relax, otherwise he'd end up with aching arms and his food would most definitely end up getting dropped on the street. Yet, it didn't change how content he felt.

Even if it was still raining, even if his arms ached, and even if he had started to long for a cup of hot tea. He still felt content.

Then, Mumbo turned the corner onto his street.

He was nearly home, he could see his apartment building from where he stood, but that did nothing to stop the grocery bags from clattering out of his loose grip. The bread fell out, its beautiful crust soaked in a puddle on the pavement, and the punnet of apples came loose, fruit rolling across the ground. All of those good things were ruined in an instant, all of the things that he had been looking forward to were nothing more than a smushed pile against gray concrete.

But none of that mattered, and Mumbo wasn’t watching as eggs smashed and vegetables bruised. Instead, he was slack, staring straight ahead with weak, shaking hands.

Because right across the street, on the familiar, uneven doorstep of Mumbo’s apartment block, stood Grian.

He was rocking back and forth on his heels, his back turned to the street. Even so, Mumbo could see that he was twisting his hands anxiously, picking at the skin around his nails. It was almost picturesque, the way that he stood there on the empty side of the street, as if everyone had cleared out to give the two of them this moment - though, realistically, most people were probably just inside because of the rain.

Mumbo couldn’t care about the loss of his groceries as he blinked owlishly at Grian, frozen in place. He couldn't really believe his eyes as he took in every detail of the man’s silhouette, trying to convince himself that it wasn't just his imagination; that Grian was actually there.

He stared at him as he glanced up towards the window of Mumbo's flat, as he flitted between pacing or just tapping his foot, seemingly unaware of everything around him. He looked like he was deep in thought, as if he was trying to decide whether he should leave or not. Everytime that he steeled himself, spine straightening and hands curling into fists, he’d crumble, and go back to just standing outside the building, rocking back and forth.

Grian looked significantly better than the last time Mumbo saw him. His hair was in better shape, trimmed and washed, albeit wet from the rain. He wondered what style Grian usually let it sit in now, he wondered if that had changed, since they last saw each other so many weeks ago. His clothes looked clean, he was standing straighter, and he seemed to have put effort into what he was wearing.

All in all, he looked good. He looked better, so much better. If it wasn't for the pacing, Mumbo would've assumed that Grian was doing well.

It could have been hours that Mumbo stood there, glued to the pavement with watering, blinkless eyes, before Grian finally made up his mind on what he was going to do. He watched with horror as Grian turned around, walking in the opposite direction.

He hadn't seen Mumbo, hadn't noticed him.

He had decided to leave.

Mumbo’s heart dropped from his throat to his toes, fluttering with the desperate pace of a hummingbird, and yet, he couldn't move. He was frozen in place, deafening pulse hammering in his ears. He had to move! He had to!

It wasn't until a passerby walked into him, too busy looking at the groceries littering the ground, that Mumbo moved. In that moment he didn't care about the bread, he didn’t care about making himself a good, fresh meal, or the fact that there was traffic on the road. He didn't care if he ran into someone. He didn’t care if he made a fool of himself.

All he could care about was stopping Grian from leaving. He had to stop him from leaving.

His heart was yelling at him that if he didn't stop Grian from leaving, then this would be the last time he ever saw him. That they'd be stuck in this godawful limbo forever, neither of them ever gaining the strength to try and fix things between them. In those few seconds, where all he could see was the retreating outline of Grian’s rain-soaked hair, he was certain that was true.

It was true for both of them, but he could fix it. Right now, he could fix it.

That's why Mumbo ran out into the road without a second thought, throwing himself straight out into traffic, and only narrowly avoiding getting hit by a car. The driver slammed on their horn and rolled down the window to yell curses at him for his recklessness, but he could barely hear it.

Mumbo could only sprint as fast as he could, legs pumping under him like he was possessed. Adrenaline and fear and longing all melted together into some dangerous potion in his gut, he only cared about stopping Grian, he–

He didn't stop running until he caught up to Grian, his fingers first just brushing against the sleeve of his jacket as he remained just out of reach. In that split second, it was like Grian was nothing but a figment of his imagination, a shadow haunting him as he slipped through quivering fingers. It was only a moment, but the surge of absolute terror that rushed through him at that gave Mumbo a boost like nothing else.

Before he really knew what was happening, he had managed to grab Grian with a far sharper grip, long fingers tangling around his arm like a vice. He watched, tense and slightly lightheaded, as Grian yelled in response, spinning around like a whip as he tried to yank himself away.

His expression was sour, his eyelashes wet, as he seemed about ready to scream at whatever stranger had grabbed him until they let go.

Mumbo watched the exact instant that he realized who it was that was holding onto him.

Grian’s angry expression faded rapidly, first settling into a look of pure disbelief, before a hint of relief and happiness coloured his face. A smile was next, small and barely-there but still present enough to send fireworks shooting through Mumbo’s chest. He looked as if couldn't believe his eyes at all.

In a second, the happiness faded and his face crumpled like a child, something young and helpless and pained overtaking every inch of his expression. He looked sadder and more regretful than Mumbo had ever seen him, his mouth moving wordlessly as he stared up at the taller man.

Up close, Mumbo’s only thought was that he was glad Grian was truly doing better. With relief, he could see that Grian was wearing a small amount of makeup to highlight his features. It was polished, carefully placed and vibrant, but didn't hide the fact that he still had bags beneath his eyes. He still looked tired, a sleeplessness that may as well have been etched into his very bones, but the dark circles were so much less apparent than before.

Then, finally, Grian managed to croak, “Mumbo?” He said shakily, and Mumbo had never heard his name sound like an oath before. He had never heard someone call for him like they had been thinking of him for weeks, like they had been practicing holding the shape of his name on their tongue.

He could do nothing but stare, taking in every detail of the man’s face as the pair of them stood together, stuck in place. Mumbo’s tight, shaking grip stayed on Grian’s arm, his mind blank as he tried to think of a single word that would be a reply good enough for something as terrifying and profound as Grian’s own.

But he couldn’t; couldn’t do anything but gape as he spotted a half-smoked cigarette between Grian's fingers. He seemed to have forgotten it, unlit due to the rain, the smell only slightly present. How long had Grian been pacing? How long had he been out in the rain?

“Mumbo, listen, I–” Grian inhaled, about to continue, but was promptly cut off by Mumbo pulling him into a tight hug.

Grian gasped, and for a split second Mumbo was terrified that Grian wouldn't hug back, that he would resist, push Mumbo away, and leave. That this would be it, he would watch as Grian retreated away from him, and they would have forever missed their chance.

He could feel as Grian trembled. He didn't want to let go. He couldn't let go.

Then, he felt a pair of hands hovering over his back. At first they were careful, landing lightly on his soaking wet coat, but quickly they turned desperate. Those hands felt searching against him, grabbing fistfuls of as much fabric as they could reach, like whatever Grian could hold would stay with him forever. Like Mumbo would leave if Grian didn’t hold on tightly enough.

Mumbo barely registered that the other was crying, the tears blending with the rain, smudged into every other droplet that was already coating his shoulder.

"I'm sorry,” Grian sobbed, burying his head in Mumbo's shoulder. “I'm so sorry."

There were tears on Mumbo’s cheeks too as he pulled Grian as close as he could, burying his nose in damp, blond hair.

“It's okay, I'm here. It's okay," he reassured, and he wasn’t quite sure who he was talking to as he said it. It didn’t matter, they both heard it.

Neither wanted to let go, as they stood there in the pouring rain. Neither could bring themself to.

#grumbo #grian #mumbo jumbo #hermitblr #hermitcraft #ariana griande #take my tea with formaldehyde (grumbo fic)#tmtwf #grumbo fanfic

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