/// Jrwi Total Monster Kill Spoilers (?)

/// jrwi total monster kill spoilers (?)

im calling it now. tmk is going to end with everett dying in jin and lucia's arms after sacrificing himself to save them because right at the end he chooses humanity. because some of the best stories are of tragic found families that almost were

I don't think anyone was prepared for what Tubbo was about to drop when he said "You guys want a meme song?" let alone what came after it, that transition was CRAZY

Tubbo's DJ sets are so much fun 🎶

bro i love runt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! she's got my big sister instincts going crazy

thinking about gillions talk with caspian about his home. thinking about how shocked gillion was when he find out caspian never wanted to go back. thinking about how gillion never planned on staying.

(rai voice) thunder

dad!charlie was not something i thought i needed. MY HEART my heart has been stolen. this has a perfect balance of sad and cute

it comes in waves (i’m pulled below)

wcbah verse

TW// mention of past abuse, angst, use of “mama” for reader”, some of these lines were directly stolen from a tik tok; i’m not creative enough to think of them on my own.

charlie’s favorite time of the day was seven in the morning, when the sun barely peaks through the clouds and haven’t had a full chance to blind him through the half broken blinds yet.

charlie wasn’t always a morning person-years of chasing the sun up and racing the moon down has made him want to do nothing more than to rest in bed with you-but with a child, anything past 5am was a treat.

“You want a braid today?”

charlie’s voice is low, borders on hoarse, a night filled with the black ink of nightmares threatening to spill into every dream. he stands behind his child, a copy of him-although he hopes it’s the good parts-all curly hair and clumsy limbs.

she doesn’t answer right away, rubbing her eyes as charlie uses his knuckles to push his glasses up his face.

“Hm, baby?” He asks again, a gentle tickle to her side that finally makes her break, “Or I can do space buns.”

She rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands before speaking: “Braid, Papa.”

And finally, a smile out of charlie breaks through, puts the rubber-band between his teeth as he grabs the comb: “Alright, honey. I can do that. Now tell me-how did you sleep last night?”

She’s quieter than usual, a shrug. charlie knows her well enough to know this isn’t like her, usually talkative in the morning and thrilled to tell him about the morning ahead-usually following behind charlie until she accidentally runs into the back of his legs as he does house work.

“Papa?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Do you miss your Papa?”

charlie hopes she doesn’t pick up on the way he becomes stiff, how it paralyzes him with fear for a second. The book he read to her last night as she was curled into his lap in an old wooden rocking chair was about fathers, must have stuck with her, was tossing and turning with it all night.

A deep breath, begging for the memories to not flood back, to not have to grip the sink counter and wait-pray-for it to be over as he squeezes his eyes shut, thinks of the things he can smell, what he can feel-anything to pull him out of right now.

“No, baby.” He clears his throat, “I don’t.”

her face turns up as if she couldn’t even imagine not missing her father-as if that idea is so far fetched it would never cross her mind.

“You don’t?” Her face turns up, her lips puff out, her eyebrows squished together, “why not?”

because he’s the reason i almost wasn’t here he thinks or: he’s the reason i’m the way i am. or-

“I dunno.” He clears his throat, trying to think of every therapy trick he can think of, “We just don’t talk.”

She seems appalled: “He doesn’t like Papa?”

And it’s almost funny, how the idea of someone not liking her father is so far fetched, so out of her realm of imagination that it would never cross her mind-

“No, honey.”

“He only likes eating dinner?” Pure disgust in her voice, “Not playing?”

The image of him on all fours as her on his back as he slowly pass through the house, acts like she’s riding various animals around the forest, holding onto little grips of his hair.

She blows air out of her cheeks as charlie slowly works on the braid, his voice low:

“Not everyone has a good Papa, honey.” He says gently, “Sometimes-“

She interrupts. “He doesn’t help you?”

if anything, he makes it worse-makes the bad dreams come back, makes the white knuckling come back-

“No, sweetheart.”

His hands fall from her head and her hand goes to feel the finished braid but instead he spins her around so she’s facing him, drops his shoulders so he isn’t towering over her, his hands on either side of her body.

“Not everyone has a mama and papa who love them, honey.”

His voice catches for a second, and he thinks of how badly he wanted something like this when he was her age; what extremes he would’ve gone through to have something like this.

“They don’t have anyone to protect them?”

Her eyes are wide, like this is the first time she’s even let this be a thought in her head and charlie can’t fight it-can feel the stinging behind his eyes, the familiar pinch before the release, the wet down his cheeks.

“No one to protect them from monsters like you do, Papa?”

Finally he laughs, just as she reaches out, the pad of her thumb brushes against his cheek and catches a tear on the tip of her finger.

“No, sweetheart,” He says lowly, “Not everyone has that.”

she considers this for a minute, tracing the constellation of freckles that lie by his glasses before she speaks.

Her voice is low, a shared moment between the two of them as she speaks: “I’m glad you’re my Papa.”

He laughs; the tension in his shoulders breaks, the anxiety that was building up in his body is released.

“I’m glad your my baby,” he says, “You’ll always be my baby. Even when you’re old and don’t think i’m cool anymore.”

She shakes her head, “No, Papa.”

He grabs her hand, kisses the top of her hand once before he shakes his head, willing the tears to stop.

“Alright, honey. Let’s finish this braid.”

She giggles a she spins her around again, faces the mirror, and she launches into a story about a dream she had-charlie has never felt better as he listens.