#the mammas and the pappas

[reetsmusic]

California Dreamin’ - The Mamas & The Papas (acoustic cover)

[sator-the-wanderer]

"Snuffkin's and Moomintroll's room" - Moominvalley Map by Tove

[captain-mozzarella]

I am SO TIRED

I’m not entirely happy with the watercolour (cuz I’m mostly not used to it lmao) but Im too tired to care at this point

(Individual photos under the cut :3)

[smokeys-house]

No nuance no bald no vanilla extract and most of all no snufkin these are your only two choices

[analogboii]

[shiroselia]

Jag har aldrig brytt mig om dejtingprogram någonsin men en sak är fucking säker

Anledningen till att Paradise Hotel med flera suger är att de har idioter under 30 bast

Bonde söker fru, Hotell Romantik, osv. osv. är alla någorlunda gulliga at WORST och enda anledningen att de inte suger är för att det är vanliga människor som dessutom levt utanför internetet mer än 2 år i sitt liv

[bernard-the-rabbit]

Sydney Gloria Enjolras

[spookle]

hi everyone

getting into a car accident is EXPENSIVE❗❗ dont do it

[moomin-happiness]

Moominpappa often seems frustrated or baffled at the fact that Moomintroll doesn't do a lot of things that he himself did or found easy to do when he was that age--Moomintroll is less independent, he doesn't manage well on his own, he makes foolish decisions and he doesn't value the same things Moominpappa does--but like. There is usually a very obvious reason for the disconnect. And that reason is that Moomintroll has two parents that love and at times spoil him. While Moominpappa was an orphan with a caretaker that washed him far more often than she kissed him, and then he ran away the moment he thought he could get away with it.

[narmothewraith]

Dyed my hair yesterday btw :)

Also liked it without the green, so I had blonde streaks through my hair but I wanted to dye my hair for almost 3 years an unnatural colour so maybe the next time I just go with blonde through my hair :)

[girlgenius1111]

alone.

i wrote this in maybe a half hour and it's very short but i was very in my feels so you get angsty sol as a result before the events of family line. sol struggles. there is change on the horizon, but she doesn't see it.

-----

It was the same every morning, the same every day. A quick knock would wake you, a second knock a few minutes later telling you it was time to get up. You’d throw on clothes that didn’t quite fit with Spain’s climate, tie your hair up in a bun, and go downstairs. 

Breakfast was always quiet, ever since the first few weeks, when Ingrid had tried to engage you in conversation and you rejected every attempt. She’d ask you a question that would remind you how little she knew about your life now. You’d snap back at her unintentionally, she’d get angry, and the table would fall quiet. Eventually, it just stayed quiet. 

You’d go to school, barely understand a word spoken to you. Scrape by with passable grades, most of the time. Go back to Ingrid’s house. Do your school work at the kitchen table, where she could keep an eye on you. Hide in your room until dinner. Hide in your room after dinner. Distract yourself with a mindless show, or more often, a nature documentary of some kind. Fall asleep, dream of lakes and forests and grass and mountains; things that could never be disappointed in you. 

You went through the motions. Step by step, day after day. Not really living, just existing. Not trying, either. 

You’d stop trying a long time ago. Long before Spain, before the small, bland extra bedroom you slept in. Before disappointed looks had begun to come from your sister. You’d stopped trying when you were still in Norway, still disappointing your parents. 

Back in Norway, you felt content being mostly invisible. Your parents ignoring you was better than being yelled at, though they still did that a fair amount.There was something about being here, though, in Spain that was just… different. 

Perhaps it was that part of you, little you, who still remembered Ingrid as someone who gave the best hugs and always knew how to make you smile. Little you hadn’t ever had much hope in her parents, but she’d had hope in Ingrid. That part of you clung to the idea that Ingrid could still make everything better, like she had when you were small. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t let go of that hope. 

It crushed you, time and time again, when Ingrid yelled at you, or frowned at a bad grade, or sent you to your room for being a few minutes past curfew, without even letting you explain why you’d been late [there’d been a turtle in the road on your walk from the climbing gym, and it had taken 5 minutes you didn’t have to make sure it got across safely]. When she’d sigh after another weekend passed, and you remained locked in your room. When she’d tell you to just try harder. At speaking Spanish, at making friends, at school. 

You didn’t have anything left to give. All of your energy was spent dragging yourself out of bed. Why couldn’t she see that? Growing up, it had felt like Ingrid had been the only one to see you. Now, though, she was just like everyone else. She saw what your parents saw, you decided. Someone who just wasn’t worth it. 

Ingrid had always loved you. Even when it was hard to believe that your parents did, Ingrid always told you she loved you. She hadn’t said it in a while, though. You hadn’t heard from your Mamma in weeks, the last text you’d gotten from your Pappa had been scolding you for spending too much money. [You’d bought Ingrid a birthday present, but he made you return it before you could give it to her]. 

Maybe you just weren’t someone who could be loved. You rolled onto your side, covering your ears to block out the sound of Ingrid’s loud laughter at something Mapi had said. Tears dripped off your face, and you wished you were 7 again, burying your face in your sister’s shoulder and knowing that as long as she had you, you’d be okay. That was back when she loved you, though. You were pretty sure she didn’t anymore. How could she? When all you did was screw up, who could love someone like you? 

You weren’t 7 anymore, you were 17, and you were all alone. In a house hundreds of miles away from home, with your sister who you felt like you barely knew anymore. All alone. You were beginning to think that was all you’d ever be. Alone. 

You didn’t know a lot of things, though. You didn’t know about the book shoved under Ingrid’s pillow, about troubled teens. You didn’t know that she’d stand in your doorway sometimes, just watching you sleep. Enjoying that, at least while resting, you didn’t frown. 

You didn’t know your Pappa picked up the phone often, but never called, feeling like he’d created a gap he wasn’t sure he could ever fix. Didn’t know that sometimes your Mamma slept in your bed, remembering the small child that had once smelled of syrup and brought her flowers from the garden. 

You didn’t know that Mapi stayed up late at night, duolingo open on her phone, hoping that maybe speaking a language you understood would make you feel more at home. 

You didn’t know that Ingrid loved you more than her heart could take, sometimes, and that she was just doing what she thought would work. She didn’t realize you didn’t need discipline, that you just needed a support system. 

Things would improve, but you didn’t know that. As you sobbed into your pillow, you were pretty sure you’d always feel like this; unloved and completely alone. 

[pahishylje]

Ookoo mut Mamman ja Papan parisuhde on low key goals

Pappa on all "Mihin tahansa sinä haluat mennä. Sinne me seilaamme. Vien sinut mihin vain sydämesi halajaa" Romantic king <<<333

Ja Mamma asettaa itsensä käsilaukkuineen Papan ja Mörön väliin suojellaakseen perhettään ja kotiansa??? Sori queen, pudotitte tämän 👑

Vuosituhannen power couple

[jxtunnblood]

"Mamma?" Moomintroll asked quietly, his legs swinging under the kitchen table, clutching at his knees. He watched her as she washed the dishes, the soft splashing of the water suddenly like waves in his ears, wanting to swallow him.

He was coaxed back to reality by the questioning hum he received in return, melodic, inviting but not urging him to continue.

"I'm in love with Snufkin." The pause that followed was so brief he could hardly overthink what he said.

"Oh, my dear, that's wonderful!" Mamma said, drying her paws on her apron before turning. He couldn't look her in the eyes. "Does he know?" He shook his head.

"Well, no. I mean, I haven't told him. He hasn't told me, either. But we- He knows." Moomin felt himself blush. "We've kissed." His voice was barely there, so small in the spacious room. But Moominmamma caught it, holding it tenderly in her hands.

"My sweet boy, all grown up." If he was blushing before, he was now glowing.

***

"I'm in love Pappa," Moomintroll all but blurted out.

Until then, he hadn't even been sure that Pappa had heard him when he entered his writing room, so deeply focused on the paper in front of him.

Moominpappa sighed, looking up. "So am I. Who is it that stole your heart? It's that Snufkin boy, isn't it?"

"Did Mamma tell you?" Anxious disappointment spread and just as quickly disappeared.

Moominpappa laughed. "You are your mothers son. You are soft spoken with an energy of calm, but both of you are adventurous at heart. As long as you return to a nice and soft bed at the end of the day." Another chuckle. "Your mother has made that bed with a true adventurer who occasionally gets overtaken by Wanderlust. It's only natural that you do, too, don't you think?"

***

"Mamma wants you to come for breakfast some time," Moomin said quitly as they were lying by the river. Snufkin slowly opened one eye, peeking at Moomintroll.

"Did you tell her? About us?" 

"No! Well, I told her that-" Moomin was stumbling over the words, afraid Snufkin would be upset. He continued, whispering, "that I'm in love with you." 

"Oh?" Snufkin sat up onto his elbow, still not making an effort to look at him properly. "Are you?" Moomin was dumbfounded. 

"Well, yes. Isn't that quite obvious?"

"I suppose. I try not to assume." Quiet. "I am in love with you, too, Moomintroll." Moomin's mouth opened and closed a few time.

"I hoped so," he finally said.

With a satisfied hum, Snufkin went back to dozing in the soft grass, leaving Moomin to look at him in wonder.

[skruttet]

oh boo-fucking-hoo

[octuscle]

I want to turn into a dumb ski teenager. Kinda a twunk/himbo. I love hot helmets ski masks etc, I’d make sure my boots smell fetid. Thanks!

The platform in Munich was overcrowded when the train to Innsbruck arrived. Like Peter, at least some people were wearing a suit and carrying a laptop bag. Most were struggling with skis, snowboards and huge sports bags. Peter heard Dutch, Polish and Swedish, he had the feeling that half of Europe was on its way to a skiing vacation. He, on the other hand, had to go to Innsbruck to help clear away the rubble of a spectacular real estate bankruptcy. He was one of the top insolvency administrators in Europe. And he wanted to show that he himself could bring this case to a satisfactory conclusion for everyone.

As expected, everyone was jostling at the second-class entrances. The two first-class carriages were almost empty. It was quiet, Peter would be able to work in peace. He opened his notebook and settled down at the table in his compartment. But after a few minutes, the peace and quiet was over. He heard loud voices coming closer and closer. A young man with blond hair pulled open the door to his compartment, took a quick look around and then shouted "Hörni, det är nästan en hel tågkupé tom!" into the corridor. Without asking, he heaved his sports bag into the luggage net. And after a few moments, four young men followed and took possession of the compartment together with their leader. After a few seconds, the aisle was blocked with skis and snowboards, the luggage net was full of bags and suitcases, loud music was blaring from a boombox and the first bottles of beer and vodka were on the table next to Peter's laptop. It smelled of alcohol, sweat and testosterone. Peter was furious. "You do know that this is the first class rest area?" he asked the group. The leader of the group laughed and said that the train was so overcrowded, there would certainly be no conductor to check it. Peter closed his notebook, exasperated. Concentrated work would certainly not be possible. He put on his noise-canceling headphones and hoped to get at least a little sleep.

He probably hadn't closed his eyes for five minutes when he woke up. His crotch was soaking wet. A beer bottle had fallen over and the contents had spilled onto his lap. The Swedes were roaring. One of them said "Sorry" and held out a bottle of vodka to Peter. I don't know what kind of devil he was riding, but he took a swig. And a second. And helped himself to the dried moose meat. After the train had left Kufstein station, all six of them were roaring Swedish drinking songs. And Peter wiped a long blond strand of hair from his forehead.

As the train pulled into Innsbruck, the five jocks gathered their things together. Peter was already really drunk and it was difficult for him to stow his boombox and his still-empty bottles into his rucksack in time. At the last second, he managed to fall onto the platform with his snowboard and sports bag. His friends roared.

The train to St. Anton was even fuller. There was no chance of getting a seat. Peter and his friends crowded into the aisle and the party was immediately back in full swing. They quickly made friends with the members of a Norwegian student fraternity who were going to the same sports hostel as them. It was dusk when the train arrived in St. Anton. Leif had to vomit directly into the snow. Fortunately, the icy cold air had sobered Peter up a bit. But he had to piss and tried to pee "Sverige" in the snow. He failed. The pre-ordered bus was waiting for them and took them to their hostel

Yes, Pelle was damn good at partying. He was like all Swedes who made the Alps unsafe. But he was also a damn good sportsman. "Väl framme, mamma. Nu ska jag iväg till pisten för första gången. Hälsningar till pappa!", he wrote. The lifts opened at 09:00. No matter how hard he had partied yesterday, he wanted to be the first to leave his tracks in the freshly fallen snow.