I am being slayed by your desperation. Every night I light a candle for Spitechives' return, whispering prayers to the dark lords of obscure internet history. If they don't resurface soon, I swear on my ancestors' questionable genetic legacy—I will personally deface every digital archive from here to Bucharest just to feel something again. The void is real, darling.
Are the Spitechives ever coming back?