#this spiraled

[tresapes]

Short Mary & Matthew ficlet #4

Prompt: Matthew recognises how much Mary supported him during his injury (with a lot some pushing from Isobel)

This one is Long. It took him a while.

Isobel was standing by the window in the library, a cup of tea in her hands, watching Matthew and Lavinia in the gardens below. Lavinia's mouth was forming words, gesturing excitedly, but Matthew was still and silent. He turned his face up towards the sky, and closed his eyes when Lavinia was looking the other way.

It was a sunny day. Maybe the sun would do him good. Shine through the shadows in his mind.

She felt someone stand next to her, and turned to see Mary with her own cup, looking out at the scene below. She found Mary to be a hard person, when she first met her. Now she knew the only thing hard about the young woman was the shell around her heart. It only made her wonder how much she hurt, how many wounds the world had inflicted on her before she shut herself away from it.

------------------------------------------

"Why don't I ask Carson to get us some sandwiches? You didn't eat much at lunch, did you not like it?"

"It was perfectly pleasant."

Lavinia frowned, but seemed to come to a quick decision. "Well. I'll ring for the sandwiches all the same."

Matthew didn't reply.

Carson was very prompt.

Cheese crackers with orange mascarpone and cucumber salmon squares. Matthew bit into one impassively. Lavinia looked on encouragingly.

Isobel frowned. He always preferred a sweet scone with afternoon tea. Maybe he preferred something lighter now.

He wasn't going anywhere after all, where would all that sugar go. The bitter thought hit her like a punch in the stomach and she had to ask to be excused.

Matthew didn't return her kiss goodbye.

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"How was he today? I was needed at the hospital, and only got back a few hours ago." Isobel was bone weary and not just from the long day. Watching her child turn into a shadow of himself really took it out of her, it seemed.

"Oh, much the same. We got to take a turn in the gardens but-"

Isobel noticed the girl frown. Oh, maybe, maybe he finally talked to her. "What is it?"

Lavinia shook her head "I think I made Mary rather cross with me."

"Goodness. What happened?"

"I didn't think, I got Matthew a blanket for the cold. But it had snowed and the blanket was long and- he wouldn't know."

Isobel frowned. No. No he wouldn't know if his legs were wet and frozen. Her hands tightened on her cup and she had to leave it back on the tray, her fingers tightening on her lap under the table.

"How was Matthew, was he upset?"

Lavinia smiled then "No! Not at all. He was kind, he didn't say anything, even though it was so stupid of me. I'll know better next time."

Isobel smiled kindly to the girl, even as her heart was breaking for her son. They'd won the war, but he certainly came back from it defeated.

"I'm sure you will, my dear."

Lavinia was still biting her lower lip "I think Mary was really upset."

Isobel didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Certainly, Mary Crawley would be upset. Her attentiveness and skill when she'd been taking care of Matthew would have been the envy of an army hospital.

Molesley came in to take the tea trays, and Isobel offered her future daughter-in-law another smile. "I shouldn't worry too much. I'm sure Mary… kept it all under control. And she forgives. She might bite, but she forgives. Too much like her grandmother, that girl."

She got a laugh out of Lavinia with that comment, and the girl seemed to relax.

Isobel didn't want to but the image came to her mind anyway. Mary with that fury of the Crawley line swirling in her eyes in that contained way of hers, as she took in Matthew's shoulders hunched in shame, Lavinia fumbling with the blanket, a stream of apologies as she waited for a footman to come and sort it out.

Isobel was lost in thought and didn't realise Lavinia was speaking again "… she didn't stay. I don't know if it was because I made her angry or… I think seeing Matthew like that might be upsetting for her. She's always so polite, but she never stays long if we're in a room."

Isobel nodded, absentmindedly. No. Mary wouldn't stand by and watch any of that.

------------------------------------

"I was reading that."

"Well, you took too long, now I'm reading it."

"You must be joking?"

"You can't just monopolise the latest Montgomery, Matthew. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other and you seem to need as much to make friends with Anne of Green Gables. It might just be that you don't like each other."

Isobel watched from over her needlework. Matthew seemed put out, but his shoulders were relaxed. His index finger lightly tapping the arm of his chair. Like he was thinking.

"Are you friends with her then? Were seven days sufficient for you two?"

Mary lifted an imperious brow, and pointedly turned the page of the book she was holding. "Of a kind. I was a bit too old for it when the first one came out. But Sybil loved them and made me read the whole book to her."

"And now?"

Mary shrugged "It's rude not to greet an old friend when they visit."

Matthew chuckled and Isobel looked up at the sound, her heart pounding, only to see him turn his face down, and cover his eyes with his hand, rubbing his forehead. Tired. She watched Mary also sneak peaks at him from over her book, her dark eyes reading him more than the words on the page. She hid herself behind the book again, before she spoke:

"I can read it to you, if you'd like."

Matthew looked up, peeved. "I'm not a child."

She turned her eyes back to him, the imperious look back. "Of course not. But we must find some compromise, I'm not just handing this over you know."

"God forbid."

Isobel watched as they stared at each other. Matthew's finger was still tapping the arm of his chair.

"How about… I read it to you?"

Mary smirked, and offered him the book. Matthew smiled as he opened it, and Isobel could cry. He turned to the first page-

--------------------------------------------

"How nice, that I finally get you to myself. A rare gift these days!"

Matthew offered her a small smile, and Isobel could live with that.

"Where are they all anyway?" she asked him, trying to engage him in some conversation as she took a sip of her tea.

"Robert has a meeting with the tenants. Edith and Sybil are in Ripon. You know of course Lavinia's gone to London to sort out some errands for Reggie."

Isobel nodded. Of course she knew that. The girl stayed with her after all. "And Mary?"

Matthew looked out the window. They had a lot of rain after days of snow, and the mud was making it very hard for him to go anywhere. Not that he seemed to mind, even if he wouldn't look at her now, a frown on his face as he watched the world outside. "She's over at Haxby. Richard came around he probably… added one horrid thing or other to the place that he wanted to share with her."

Isobel tried to move past the tone of bitterness in his voice, as much as it hurt her to do so. God knew which of all the things mentioned would be making him bitter. She placed her cup back on its saucer. She'd have to drag it out of him, whatever it was, because he wasn't willingly sharing the things that hurt him with her. Not anymore. "She must be somewhat excited, to see the place she'll call home come to life." she pushed on.

"Downton will always be Mary's home."

The answer was immediate. And final.

Isobel wished she could give her son a nice shake. "Of course. But she'll live there, what does she say, what's it like?"

"Big."

She waited, expecting some explanation.

Matthew gave a short laugh then, and turned to her, lifting his eyebrow in perfect imitation of Mary "Really. It's just big."

Isobel watched as he chuckled to himself, his eyes lost in memory.

Goodness. It was perhaps, more complicated than she thought.

-----------------------------------------------

Isobel wept the night she saw her son standing on his own two feet again. She got home, and kneeled next to her bed, and thanked God in prayer like she hadn't done since she had been a little girl. Her son. Her boy would get his life back.

It had been a few weeks since then. Matthew hadn't moved back home yet but it was only a matter of time. Isobel visited every day, even though it was a flurry of activity there, and the kind of activity that tended to be tiresome.

Some of it was inescapable, like the wedding preparations, but then a maid was hired, or one of the old footmen wouldn't leave and there was a baby in the dining room but nobody seemed to know how he got there or what to do about it, and Isobel couldn't wait to get back to the village where people had normal problems.

She had thought, now that Matthew's whole life was ahead of him once again, and his brooding moods had returned, so would his assertiveness and confidence.

Instead he was often lost in thought, plastering on a smile when he caught someone watching him. More alarming still, he was quite withdrawn as they sat in the drawing room, to discuss some wedding plans, putting on that same smile whenever Lavinia or anyone else asked a question, but always answering with some variation of "Whatever you think is best, I truly don't mind."

Isobel listened to the girl, and made as many contributions as she could, along with Cora and Edith, who had been taking tea with them and discussing plans, Lavinia's excitement being quite nice to see.

They were talking about flower arrangements when she turned to Cora "Do you think Mary could help me pick the bouquets for the bridesmaids? I'm not sure which flowers to choose from, and she knew quite a lot about them when we walked about the garden a few times."

Cora looked lost for words for a moment "Oh… perhaps, why don't you ask her? I know she's got a lot on now, with Haxby, and her own wedding to plan-"

"Plus Mary won't lift a finger for things that don't involve her - like someone else's wedding" added Edith.

Isobel heard Cora's tut at the comment, but she felt a strong, almost maternal, urge to defend the girl. "Well. I for one am incredibly grateful to her, for how she cared for Matthew when he first came back, and I wasn't here to look after him. Even though it didn't involve her."

She watched Lavinia's puzzled expression, and wanted to tut at her own son who was focusing on staring at the carpet, his face pale.

"Did Mary really look after you, back then?" Lavinia asked, very kindly.

Matthew tightened his hand on his walking stick, and swallowed visibly, all the women staring at him intently. Eventually he shook his head a rough smirk on his face, his eyes troubled "You know Mary. She won't miss a chance to push someone around."

He got a chuckle out of Edith for that comment, and Isobel was about to reprimand him when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and looked up to see Mary standing at the other end of the room, having walked through the open door, unobserved.

Isobel's hands tightened on her tea cup as Cora greeted her eldest daughter, who was walking towards them, handbag still clutched in her hands in front of her stomach, like a physical shield.

Isobel saw whatever colour was on Matthew's face leave it as he whipped his head around to stare at the object of their conversation.

Mary spoke before anyone could utter another word "Please. Don't let me disturb you I just wanted to say hello. I'm quite dusty from the trip, I think I should like to change."

Cora nodded, eagerly agreeing "Why don't you ask Anna to run you a bath darling? It's been a long day."

"Yes, I think I shall."

Isobel saw her look at Matthew, very fleetingly, before she steeled her spine and turned, walking out of the room through the same door.

Isobel did not need to wonder why Matthew didn't speak another word for the rest of the visit.

-------------------------------------------

Matthew's foul mood persisted. For days. He'd finally moved back to Crawley House, but it didn't make any difference.

Isobel watched him stew in his misery and for once, she let him stew. He deserved it. Mary was being perfectly polite at dinners and visits. But Isobel doubted he managed to have even a moment alone with her. Maybe he finally realised that Mary Crawley did not just spend hours on end keeping a man company to lift his spirits because she had nothing better to do.

Lavinia had gone up to London for some wedding shopping, and Isobel was having breakfast with her son, as normal, for the first time in almost a year. It would have been perfect if he hadn't spent most of his time huffing behind his newspaper.

"You could just apologise, you know."

"Mother…"

"Don't "mother" me. I'm tired of your moping. Surely you can give the woman an apology, it can't be that hard. She's your friend-"

This time, a pained laughter came from behind the newspaper, and Isobel looked up. Matthew dropped the newspaper and got up, grabbing his walking stick and pacing to the window.

"If I start apologising to Mary I shall be at it for days."

"Why is that?"

"Please, mother, stop pushing. You wouldn't understand."

"Won't I? Might it have anything to do with your distinct lack of enthusiasm for your own wedding?"

Matthew turned to her, a frightened expression on his face.

"Or might it have to do with the amount of care Mary showed you, above and beyond that of even a dedicated nurse? Washing you, with Sybil. Sitting by your bedside throughout your stay at the hospital. Being there through your examinations. Being the one to break the news of you injury, of William's death. You think Dr Clarkson wouldn't give me all the details of your stay? That I wouldn't ask?"

She watched him pace in misery, and she let him wallow as she continued "… Or do you think I'd forget finding her cleaning your vomit and telling you everything would be alright? Perhaps you thought that was normal behaviour for a distant relation, I'm surprised you didn't expect Edith or Cora to do the same."

"Stop. Enough. I know this, of course I know."

"Good. Then maybe go and tell her why you told none of this to Lavinia. Or why you told Lavinia nothing of your retracted proposal to Mary, all those years ago, something that should be old history by now, shouldn't it? Instead letting Lavinia expect the poor woman to help plan your wedding."

Matthew shook his head "I wouldn't- I didn't expect-"

Isobel didn't let him misdirect her "… Or perhaps you'd like to not talk about Mary, and focus on you a little more."

Matthew covered his face with one hand, but Isobel had had enough. "Lets talk about why you only felt safe to take out your anger on Mary, and be so beastly to her, because Mary will forgive you anything, won't she? And she will put up with the moods you won't share with Lavinia. Lavinia who you will let mother you more than you've ever allowed anyone, even me, since you left the nursery. And I don't know if that should make me worry, or make me happy- that you'd allow that kind of care."

Her son's face was stricken. Isobel persisted. "But I do worry. Because it's not Lavinia that you can laugh with. Or laugh for. Even in your darkest moments. Is it? And I know you normally like an argument, my boy. So tell me. What are you doing?"

She could see his eyes flood with tears, and it broke her heart all over again. "I'm just trying to do the right thing, mother. That's all I ever wanted to do."

Isobel nodded. She knew this already. "But what is the right thing to do in this situation, Matthew?"

He shook his head, and dropped back on the chair heavily. "I'll go to the Abbey after breakfast. I'll apologise."

Isobel let out a breath. It was a start.

-----------------------------------------

He did go to the Abbey after breakfast. But he didn't apologise.

Isobel watched him find the courage to talk every morning, and then come back empty handed. Either saying that Mary was out, or nothing at all, just shutting himself in the library and not coming out until dinner.

She had to go to the Abbey herself a few days later, hoping to discuss some hospital matters with Cora. Carson informed her that lady Grantham was visiting the dowager countess, but she'd be back soon, so Isobel found herself sat in the library, with a cup of tea, when she heard footsteps behind her.

"… time to stop harassing Carson, I doubt there's anything that significant you wish to speak to me about."

"Stop punishing me Mary, you know there is."

Isobel found herself frozen still. They hadn't seen her, the back of the armchair covering her perfectly. If she made herself known it was possible that they would postpone the conversation to the next century. But if they saw her later… Isobel decided it was a risk she was willing to take.

"Fine. Tell me now, what is it."

Isobel heard her son huff, and could practically picture the annoyance mixing with guilt in his expression "I want to apologise. For what you overheard. It wasn't true."

"I know. It's fine. There's no need for you to apologise."

"It's not fine! Mary-"

"I didn't do anything expecting thanks, Matthew. I don't care what anyone thinks about it. Including you. All I wanted was for you to get better, and you did, so stop with your moping."

Mary sounded tired. Incredibly so. Isobel frowned, and wondered for a moment if she had anyone in her corner. Isobel had finally managed to get through to Matthew, to try and help him untangle his life. She thought of Mary and Sir Richard, and wondered.

Matthew might have seen the same weariness, because he spoke more calmly "I'm still sorry for what I said. You didn't deserve it."

"Fine. Apology accepted. Happy now?"

"…happi-er. Does that count?"

Isobel heard Mary chuckle "I'm the wrong person to ask."

Cora's voice came in through the hall then, and they seemed to find themselves out of time, walking out to greet her.

Isobel quickly picked up her cup and moved across the room, going through the door to the small library. If Carson found her transfer strange as he led Cora to her a moment later, he didn't mention anything about it.

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"So. Did you make things right?"

Matthew looked up from his book as she walked into the drawing room at Crawley House that evening. Her talk with Cora took longer than expected.

"It's not like you to gossip this much mother."

"I don't think of my care for your wellbeing as gossip."

Matthew looked at her, shaking his head and rolling his eyes before he turned back to his book without another word.

Well. That was an improvement. "Any words of wisdom from your readings?" She said, dropping the topic for now as she took a seat across from him. He was healthy, and he was here. Everything else would sort itself out.

Matthew didn't miss a beat, turning a page and offering a quote "My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."

Oh dear. There was so much more work to be done.

[random-kido]

Scavacule is so fun because you get so many dynamics between different pairs packed into one big dysfunctionally functional relationship that despite everything somehow WORKS

[confusedkittensposts]

Can someone please write me a post cannon Crowstiel fic, in which Cas is working in Heaven with Jack, Rowena is queen of hell, and Crowley is master of Hell hounds.

Cas and Crowely trying out a relationship, hanging out whenever they can, across Heaven, Hell and Earth whenever they can.

And Rowena makes a point of taking Cas on little girl dates whenever she can. Cas is basically a liason between all the beings who accept new order and want peace so it's easy to him away with excuse of diplomatic talks.

The dates are just them exchanging stories, and Rowena taking Cas to spa or introducing him to fun things. Rowena congrats him on dumping Dean, gives unhelpful therapy talks.

She also tells stories from Crowley’s childhood, asks about Gavin (who is in Heaven, Crowely made a point of introducing him to a real angel), subtlety checks on Crowely (Crowely and Rowena don't try and talk to fix their relationship, they just come up with increasingly creative threats, and annoy each other as much as they can.)

And she teases Crowely about it a lot, makes a point of flirting with Cas, who is slightly confused and very amused with her antics.

[cool-person-yey]

big fan of liars. big fan of characters whose entire existence is a facade. love it when everything's stripped away from them and the lie is the only thing left of their identity. love it when the lines between an act and the truth are blurring. are they even them without the lie? the lie doesn't become the truth per se, but it's now such an intricate part of them it might as well be.

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[nectardraws]

michael awareness poster

[chelleisamazing]

Wtf happened

[gongyussy]

acting strange on tumblr.com with the mutuals <3 | SEARCHING (2018)

[razberrypuck]

no bc ford and bill's falling out is so silly to me because its like. ford's obsession with bill was the closest to "religious" that he's ever tread, and that kind of betrayal was earth shattering and hurt ford in a way he had NEVER been hurt before, causing him to completely mentally and emotionally unravel. meanwhile bill is like "can we talk 🥺" as if he hasn't been using ford for years, and when it became clear ford hated his ass bill got so drunk he forgot his mom was dead. what an INSANE dynamic to establish 8 years after the show ended.

[rhera]

THE INNOCENTS (1961) THE OTHERS (2001) CRIMSON PEAK (2015) THE GHOST AND MRS. MUIR (1947) THE VVITCH (2015) THE BLOOD ROSE (1970) BEAUTY AND THE BEAST (1946) THE HOUSE THAT SCREAMED (1969) THE HORRIBLE DR. HICHCOCK (1962) THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE (1946)

[mangozic]

cracks him like a glowstick

[furiouskettle]

i still havent actually listened to TMA

[foop204]

I STAND FOR THE FLAG RAHHHHH🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

[frogcroaks]

Never liked you anyway

[pisscentral]

haven’t posted any art in a bit sooo

FEAR WHEEL

(btw yes the dice is purposefully all snake eyes, just clarifying)