#It's whatever I'm just. Bein dramatic...

[pupplushy]

Girlie I seriously think you don't know how sweet and kind you are. You're a wonderful person and I myself am very happy to call you my friend! You really do deserve each other, if only because you both make each other so so happy. Plus, you're very cute together :3c

Mm.. you're prolly right

[chrissturnsfav]

omg i just thought about something

can you write about how rapper!chris and star are arguing over something reallyy stupid and none of them wanna apologize first, but chris can't sleep properly if they're angry at each other so he tries to talk with her before going to bed😔😔

they’re just so sweet and i need some angst 💔

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris and singer!reader refuse to go to bed angry

you don’t even remember how it started. something about work. or maybe it was the aux cord in the car. it was dumb as fuck, you know that, but now you're both too deep into this silent battle of egos to back down.

chris is across the room, scrolling on his phone, sprawled out in a manspread on the couch. you're on his bed, curled up in his hoodie that still smells like his cologne, arms crossed, jaw tight.

the sleepover routine hasn’t changed—you're here, he's here—but the vibe is off. and you hate when the vibe is off.

he exhales loud as hell, like he wants you to notice. you pretend you don't, but then he does it again. dramatic dick.

"yo, you really gonna sleep mad at me?" his voice is all low and smooth, but there’s that little whiny edge to it, kinda like he's suffering. good.

you don't answer. you hear him toss his phone onto the nightstand with way too much force.

"nah, fuck that," he mutters, then suddenly, the king size bed dips as he flops down next to you, shaking the whole mattress. you don't move.

he sighs and shifts. then a finger pokes your arm. once. twice. three times.

"quit actin' like you sleepin'. i know you ain't asleep, ma."

you swat his hand away, but he just laughs. you can hear the smirk on his lips.

"so we really beefin' over some dumb shit?"

"you started it," you mumble quietly, your heart speeding up. you hate arguing with chris, yet you're so stubborn.

"you kept it goin'," he shoots back, rolling onto his side to face you. "and now we both look dumb as shit."

you hate when he makes sense.

he shifts closer, nudging your shoulder with his. "look, i know you’re probably sittin' here thinkin' all hard, stressin' yourself out over some shit that don’t even matter."

you glare at him. "i am not."

"you are," he says, huffing with a roll of his eyes. "bet you already planned three different ways to apologize, blamed yourself for the whole argument, and decided i secretly wanna leave you. don’t lie."

you look away, huffing, realizing he's right once again.

he groans and throws an arm over his face. "baby, i love you, but you gotta stop doin' that shit."

his words hit something soft in your chest. you swallow.

"i just don't like to be wrong," you admit, voice small, chewing the inside of your cheek.

he peeks at you from under his arm, grinning. "well, if we're bein' real, we're both wrong. so now we can stop actin' stupid and go to sleep."

you hesitate, shooting him a bratty glare, making him scoff out a chuckle.

"c'mooon," he coaxes, voice dipping into that playful, teasing tone that always makes you crack. "jus' say you sorry first. be the bigger person. show me how mature you are."

"you say it first," you whine, frowning like a small child.

"nah, ion do first," he says, flipping onto his back with a smirk. "i'm a rapper. got a reputation to uphold."

you roll your eyes, but he catches the way the corner of your mouth twitches. he sees his opening and goes straight for it.

next thing you know, he's rolling over, wrapping himself around you like a human blanket, his breath warm against your neck. "damn, you smell good," he mumbles. "all mad and cute and shit."

you groan. "chris—"

"shhh," he hums, tucking his face against your shoulder. "s'okay, i accept your apology."

"i didn't even apologize," you whine, frowning up at him as you squirm.

"you were thinkin' it, though. i could feel it. don't pull that stubborn shit, now."

you smack his arm, and he just laughs, holding you tighter. his warmth melts away the last bit of your stubbornness. fine. you did miss him.

"…whatever," you mumble, snuggling into his hoodie.

he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. "love you, kid," he mumbles against your skin.

you huff, giving in. "love you."

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @sturns-mermaid , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13 , @sturniolo101 , @malsmind

@chrissturnsfav ™

[callme-holly]

dallas x reader where reader is sick and dallas takes care of them ‼️ i love your writing sm your my favorite writer

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤 [𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: sorry for not posting y'all. im back tho !!

The room felt too hot and stuffy, despite the open window just beside your bed and the breeze coming in cool from outside, the curtains swaying gently from side to side. Your cover had been kicked to the floor after much battle, and despite the oppressive heat that washed over you whenever you wrapped it around you, without it you were trembling with cold, your whole body prickling with goosebumps. 

You had been drifting in and out of sleep all morning, and despite your parents' protests, you'd convinced them to go to work and that you'd be fine. Your nose was stuffy, your throat raw and burning, your limbs heavy as lead. You felt miserable; there was no other way to put it. You felt down right miserable. 

You were so exhausted that you weren't even aware of the boy climbing in through your window, not until he landed on the floor with a soft thump followed by a resounding groan. It took a lot of effort to lift your head, to force your eyes open, and for a few seconds, his face was blurred and unfocused.

“Dal?” You mumbled, voice barely audible, scratchy and dry.

“Man, you look rough, doll.” 

You felt your whole body sag in relief, all the pain melting away for a second as he stepped towards you, hovering by the edge of your bed uncomfortably. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing: taking care of people when they needed it most. It just wasn’t his forte, but to see you like this, clearly suffering, it created a strange mix of emotion within him.

“Thanks…” You rasped, letting your head fall back against the pillow, and he merelyhummed in response, pressing the back of his hand to your clammy forehead.

“No problem,” he smirked, watching you for a few seconds. “D���you want anything?” The offer was sweet in a way that was so uniquely him, spoken in a way that, to anyone who didn’t know him, would come across as blunt and heartless… But to you, you knew he cared and that he wanted  to help you.

You shake your head, swallowing thickly and forcing your eyes open once more. Your vision was hazy, swimming with nausea. “Just you.” 

Dallas scoffs quietly, chuckling to himself, but he kicks off his shoes nonetheless, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it over the back of your chair. “You know, you should have called if you felt this bad.”

You fix him with a pointed look, though it is weak and pitiful. “I did call. You didn’t pick up.” 

“Oh, well…” You watched with a semi-amused expression as he struggles to say something that wasn’t an apology. “I’m a busy guy.”

That earns a small, chesty laugh from you, the action drawing a pitiful little cough from you, and you settle into his side with a tired huff. struggled

“Sure…” You sniffle lightly, closing your eyes and letting your body melt. “I hate feeling sick…” 

Dallas hums in a way that sounds almost sincere for him, rubbing your back gently; you’re surprised he’s here, surprised he knew something was wrong. “Yeah. I know. Ain’t nobody like bein’ sick.”

He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, tender and lingering, and you gasp dramatically, pulling away so quick that your head spins.

"Dal! I've got germs, remember!"

He only rolls his eyes in response, giving you a weird look. "what? On your neck? Ain't like I'm kissing ya properly."

"So? You can still catch whatever this is!" You sound almost exaspered, like a tired mother, your voice hoarse and grating, the mere act of talking making your throat burn like hell.

"Calm down, doll. I'm already sick." And with that he gets comfortable, laying down next to you and reaching for the blanket thrown haphazardly over your legs, cocooning yourself inside its warmth. 

You frown, confusion washing over you. "What? You're sick?" 

"Yeah." He drawls, tracing patterns against your skin. "Love sick." 

[bbkoolkatz]

hi lovey! Back here with the Kats request sighhhh… (I’m not really that guilty 🫣) I have so many tests this whole week, won’t have much time to do anything at all Ughughughugh sooooo Kats forcing you to study even if you don’t want to 😞 or smth abt studying (not about taking a break tho 🫠🫠) taken too many of those I need to be disciplined to actually study and maybe a reward or punishment just for some extra motivation 🤭🤭

-💫

sorry I took so long bby 💫 lemme know if ya like. n good luck with ur tests ( ͡°³ ͡°)

"sit." katsuki ordered, pointing to the cushion he placed on the floor next to the coffee table.

"but i don't wanna!" you whined, flopping onto the couch dramatically, tossing your books onto the floor as if the table wasn't right there.

"boohoo." he mocked, picking you up from the comfort of the sofa to plop you down by the table. "y'got exams, 'n i'll be damned if I let ya fail 'cause y'wanna act like a goddamn brat."

"ugh, you're so mean," you grumbled, with all the enthusiasm of a child being sent to time-out.

"yeah? keep it up, 'n i'll show ya what mean really is," he sassed, throwing your notes down in front of you.

you silently mocked him, but he just stared at you, as he arched a brow, unimpressed. "y' think 'm jokin'?"

"mmm, I'm gonna say, yeah," you teased, shrugging your shoulders, nodding as you leaned back with a smug grin.

"okay." he leaned over the table, caging you in with his hands on either side of you, his face mere inches from yours. "here's how 's gonna work," he growled, "study like i tell ya to, or yer not gonna like what comes next. ya feel me?"

your cheeks flushed, but you refused to back down. "what makes you think i won't?"

" 'cause it's not a reward..." he folded his arms over his chest.

"a reward?" you blinked as your interest piqued. was that all you heard?... definitely.

"yep," he said, standing up straight, arms still crossed. "y' do what i say, and maybe, i'll give ya somethin' nice. keep bein' a pain in my ass-"

"what kind of reward?" you interrupted, squinting at him as you looked him up and down, suspicious.

"yer gonna have to behave 'n find out," he said with a shrug, smirk widening across his face.

your curiosity got the better of you, and with a dramatic sigh, you sat up straight and grabbed your notes. "fine," you grumbled, "better be worth it..." and mumbled.

"mhmm," he hummed, walking to sit across from you. "now, start with this." he pointed to the section of your notes you'd been avoiding.

you pouted but obeyed regardless, mumbling the words under your breath as you worked through the material. every time your focus drifted elsewhere, katsuki snapped his fingers or tapped the table, to get your attention back.

after what felt like an eternity, you finally finished the first section and you looked up at him, eyes big and hopeful. "do I get my reward now?"

he snorted. "y' finished one part. keep goin', 'n i'll think about it."

"you're evil," you whined, but you turned back to your notes, determined to earn whatever 'reward' he had for you.

by the time you'd finished another section, your head was spinning, and your patience was wearing thin. "can i have my reward now?" you asked, edgey and maybe a little desperate.

katsuki leaned back in the couch, red eyes flickering from your eyes to your pouty lips. "think y' earned it?"

you nodded, your entire face lighting up. he leaned forward, grabbing your chin and tilted your face up to meet his. he pressed a soft, slow kiss to your lips. "there ya' go." he rasped, face still barely a centimeter away from yours.

your heart raced at the action, and your cheeks grew hot. but before you could respond, he pulled back. "now get back to work."

"that's it?!" you complained, cheeks red with embarrassment. "i thought there'd be more..."

"keep workin'," he said, ignoring your outburst. "maybe y'll get 'more' if ya finish it all."

mlist!

[starrclownshazbinblog]

Alastor and Angel's dynamic at different points in time.

{ When Angel first joined the hotel }

☆★☆

Alastor: You are disgusting and I hate you with every fiber of my being. You are the worst thing ever in my life. I never wanna see you again.

Angel: Don't you think ya bein dramatic Bambi?

Alastor: No.

Angel: *Sigh* Fine, I'll give ya your space.

*Angel leaves the room.*

*Alastor stands for 30 seconds*

Alastor: :( I thought we we're getting along.

{ Angel being at the Hotel for 4 months }

☆★☆

Alastor: I may have misjudged you, you are not as disgusting and egotistical as I once presumed. But I still don't trust you!

Angel: *Smiling* Whatever ya say, pass me the sprinkles would ya?

*Alastor hands Angel sprinkles so he can put them on the cupcakes for Nifty's birthday.

{ Angel and Alastor being around each other for 8 months }

☆★☆

Alastor: Angel! *Storms over to Angel sitting on the couch.*

Angel: Ah Alastor, my favorite part of the day.

*Without warning Alastor asserts himself right infront of Angel and begins fixing his shirt collar.*

Angel: *Visible Confusion*

*Alastor pulls himself away, Angel's collar is now straight and flattened down.*

Alastor: There, now your pretty face will be the thing people see instead of your chest!

*Alastor walks away.*

Angel: ... *Stands up and follows Alastor.* Wait! You think I'm pretty!?

{ Angel and Alastor being at the hotel for a year }

☆★☆

Nifty: Mr. Angel?

Angel: Yes Miele?

Nifty: Doesn't mister Alstor not like people touching him?

Angel: Not unless he trusts you, that's why you and Husk can make contact with em.

Nifty: So why is Mister Alastor hugging behind you??

*Alastor is latched onto Angel from behind him like a baby monkey. He's asleep but Angel's second pair of arms are latched around him, keeping him stable*

Angel: He's just sleepy dear. :)

Platonic Radiodust is really interesting to me because I like Alastor over time breaking his walls down and realizing that someone will like him for himself.

(Might draw one of these.)

Asks are always open, art is always here, commissions are open, watch out for deers on the road.

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

[sm64mario]

hey, it's mun again. i was a little dramatic last time i did one of these but it's been about a month or two and i've calmed down a bit and y'know i feel like i've gotten comfortable with letting the mask down and just kinda bein' frank with you fellas, so let's get down to business.

i activated tipping for this blog! i do not need money. i am some fat cis white guy who's very lucky to have a mother who can feed me while i make bad life decisions. but, if you decide for whatever reason that you have a few extra coins lying about, and you'd like to toss 'em to a blatant shitposter, i'd be thankful. i was thinking about maybe doing like a 'wario post' for each one i get because i feel kinda greedy about turning it on but that might be leaning too into the gag.

was also considering making a sideblog for roleplay purposes. i think i deleted all of the older posts where i'd write paragraph long replies to my old rp partners but i miss it and wonder if i still have it in me. i'll shill it if i ever make it happen.

currently, the queue is set for two posts a day, and i'll occasionally add an improvised post or two if inspiration strikes me, but i hope the blog isn't too stagnant or anything! the quiz cards should help shake things up, and i'll occasionally try to find neat stuff from mariowiki or TCRF as well, but you know the drill by now - it's just mario shitposts and good feel. also, i realized i should probably start IDing the photos i personally post, so i'll try to add those.

my main blog is @absolutedingus, but i tend not to make original posts or queue or tag stuff on there, so don't feel obligated for follow or interact with it. if you have any pressing questions, concerns, or notices for me, please consider sending them there! in the future, i may link it in my description, but i worry it'll look too clogged with the disclaimer already there.

thank you for reading to the end! i'm not sure how to wrap this up. i like my wii u.

[halowritesthings]

“Tout est nul, putain,” Remy said while stomping his way inside. He shook the snow off his body like a wet dog, specifically because he knew it would annoy Scott when he eventually came inside and saw the partially melted snow on the hardwood. “I hate de cold.”

He shucked off the winter cap and gloves he borrowed, but before he could bend over to unlace his boots, a southern drawl emitted from the doorway, “So Ah’ve heard.”

Looking up, he saw Rogue leaning on the frame of the entrance to the common area of the mansion, a blanket bundled in her arms. His mood suddenly perked up significantly, “Well, good ol’ North must‘ve finally caught me. Why else would such a stunnin’ ange be here t’greet moi?”

Rogue rolled her eyes as she got off the frame to stand up straight, “Quit bein’ a drama queen, Swamp Rat. Everyone has had to shovel the walkways at some point.”

Remy pouted, leaning down so he could get back to stripping off the boots, “You say dat, yet why is tonight de first time I seen Specs do his fair share, neh? Gettin’ down an’ dirty too much a hassle for Fearless?”

“Ya know that’s just because ya always hightail it out of the room before the drawing of straws can begin,” Rogue said. “Ah think he’s already maxed out his shoveling duties for the season, but he joined ya tonight anyway, specifically to make sure you would do yer job for once.”

When Remy got both boots off, he looked up at Rogue with zero guilt in his eyes. His pout might have gotten bigger, actually, “So mean to Remy.”

He was quick to slip on his moccasin slippers that he was forced to abandon just an hour prior. If he wasn’t feeling so stiff, he would honestly be willing to bend over even further to place a kiss on the tips of each of them. Plus, he already got called dramatic once in this conversation; even though it was true, he would like to keep the factual observations to a minimum tonight.

As he stood back to his full height, he was suddenly assaulted, darkness enshrouding his vision and his movement becoming restricted. He struggled for a second before remembering what he was just looking at and held himself still. He was swiftly rewarded when a pair of gentle hands messed with the covering at his face and adjusted it so he was snuggly wrapped everywhere that didn’t impede his line of sight. 

Once he was able to see again, he was met with Rogue looking at him with that same fond exasperation he loved to bring out in her. “Don’t chu’ worry,” Rogue began, finalizing the details of her current attempts to encase Remy where he stood. “Jubilee went and made us a bunch’a different kinds of hot coco, and knowing yer daily sugar intake, you’ll be reawakened in no time.”

With a lopsided smile, he grabbed one of her hands, using his blanket-covered fingers to wrap excess blanket around her knuckles before placing a kiss to the top of the hand while looking her in the eyes. She was of course wearing one of her nighttime pair of gloves that she wore when they hung out after hours, but recently he had been making sure to add extra layers between them whenever he could to ease whatever leftover anxiety plagued her mind, “Mon sauveur, what would dis scoundrel do wit’out chu?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rogue said with another roll of her eyes. “Love ya too, ya greaseball.”

woe 🫴 halo x-men fic be upon ye shout out to the 4 people who unanimously voted "yes" to the poll on my main asking about whether or not i should post this WIP snippet to tumblr lol. i have zero idea as to when i can get this completed due to a.) the dreaded blockage of writers as per usual and B.) the dreaded schoolwork which is in a constant revolving state of "maybe i won't have too much work this weekend" and "holy shit i'm falling behind so hard i'm gonna die-" this snippet is rather contained tho so it can work as a standalone pretty well. maybe i just need to embrace shorter ficlets as my main form of writing. certainly would be a nice break from the "can't make a oneshot less than 6k words" train i've been riding since day one LMAO anyway feel free to ignore my yapping; i hope you like my first foray into this fandom!

[howlingday]

Yang: So, I dunno if you guys know this, but the reprints of the GLG for 1EGnG and the players handbook for 1EGnG have a neat, little disclaimer on them.

Yang: I remember looking at them and being like, "Okay, we're all bein' a little dramatic, right? We know the books are from before the Fall of Salem..."

Yang: How about I read a totally normal passage about Presence in the 1E GLG?

A TOTALLY NORMAL PASSAGE ABOUT PRESENCE IN THE 1E GLG

Yang: (Reading) "Many persons have the sad misconception that presence is merely physical attractiveness. This error is obvious to anyone who considers the subject with perceptiveness."

Yang: Hm... Kind of a weirdly defensive tone, huh?

Yang: "Presence is a combination of physical appearance, persuasiveness, and personal magnetism."

Yang: BAM! Sounds like we covered it, huh? I mean, there's a lot more words after, but I doubt they have any bearing on the

Yang: "TRUE PRESENCE becomes evident when one considers such historic examples of John D'Arc, Nicholas Schnee, and..."

Yang: UH-OH~!

Yang: "Obviously, these individuals did not have an 18 score on physical beauty..."

Yang: OKAY! SO! I REALLY don't wanna get hung up on this part of the point, but we only really have video footage of...

Yang: And, uh, I'll agree with you there, but the first person to ever figure out how to record a photograph in motion was actually one of Nicholas Schnee's squires, Joseph Neartofore Nips! And he did it one or two years after Nicholas died, so, uh... Swing and a miss, I guess. We really missed out on seeing Nicholas Schnee is whatever blurry, messy masterpiece we'd catch on film. And yeah, it's gone! And since John D'Arc was BEFORE photographs, all we really have to go on are sculptures and portraits, and I may not have a picture of John D'Arc, but just looking at the portrait we DO have of Nicholas Schnee...

Yang: WELL, IT PAINTS A PICTURE, DON'T IT~?

Yang: But yeah, I know I'm caught up on the wrong part of the point, but whatever. I just thought I'd share this and... Y'know... Anyways, it goes on to say,

Yang: "There can be no question that these named individuals were certainly 18s"

Yang: IN PRESANCE~.

Yang: "So, it's very possible to assume that scores of over 18 are possible, for any one of the named personalities would have had a higher score if they had great attractiveness as well as commanding personal magnetism and superb persuasiveness."

Yang: Talk about a distracting fucking example! Gotta say, when I hear someone talking about someone with personal magnetism and profound persuasiveness,

Yang: ...is NOT the first name that comes to mind! It's like going to drink a strawberry sunrise and it's day-old orange juice! And worst of all is that there's no qualifier! It's just like,

Yang: "Oh, yeah, y'know... John D'Arc... Nicholas Schnee... and uh-"

Yang: "Yeah, they're all- They're all pretty charming dudes..."

Yang: I mean, I gue-

Yang: "And y'know what? I bet they'd have an even higher score if they were, like, good looking."

Yang: WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT TH

[betweenthings2]

could you do 18 & 21 from the cuddle prompts <3

Thank you for the ask!! All the prompt lists on my blog are tagged as 'prompts' and my inbox is always open!

18. Holding and cradling their face to study it, perhaps noticing something new. Something else to love and 21. “Do you want me to hold you closer?” “No that’s not it, ugh—I just want to curl up inside you. Is that weird?”

18. Holding and cradling their face to study it, perhaps noticing something new. Something else to love.

Matty wakes from his nap in their hotel room to George running fingers through his hair. It's nice and Matty is half tempted to let it lull him back to sleep. He's not tired anymore, though, and he'd mostly rather be awake to experience this quiet little bit of happiness and closeness.

"Good morning," George murmurs, half teasing, when he realizes that Matty is awake.

"How long was I asleep?" Matty asks, pressing himself a little closer to George.

"Hour and half? We're supposed to meet everyone for dinner soon."

Matty groans. "Why'd we agree to that?"

"'cause it'll be nice?" George offers.

"This is nice," Matty counters. "Room service and a spliff would be nice. Getting up is not nice."

"Should I say you don't feel up to it?" George offers, concern lacing his voice.

Matty shakes his head. "'m just bein' dramatic."

George chuckles. "At least you're self aware."

Matty hums and grumbles, "Turns out therapy is good for something."

"Matty," George sighs.

Matty presses a kiss to George's bare chest, and says, "I'm not wrong."

George combs his fingers through Matty's hair again and says, "You're not wrong, but I kind of don't think that's the point."

"The point is whatever I decide the point is," is Matty's counterpoint. He pauses, then says, "Actually, the point is to hate myself a little less, but self awareness is good enough, I guess."

"Matty," George repeats, a little bit sadder this time.

"Don't say my name like that," Matty protests, "like I'm some kind of tragic mess. I'm not. I'm ok."

"I don't think that," George murmurs.

"I know," Matty responds. "Kinda sounded like it though."

"Sorry, love," George offers. "You're not a tragic mess. Tragic is the last word I'd use to describe you. I'm proud of you and I love you."

"Oh, so you think I'm a mess?" Matty asks, voice a little brighter.

George can't help but laugh. "You're kind of a mess sometimes, let's be honest."

"Thank you, George, that's exactly what I wanted to hear."

George combs his fingers through Matty's curls again and says, "I love your mess. You wouldn't be you if you weren't a mess sometimes."

Matty presses another kiss to George's chest, this one a little bit closer to his collarbone, and quietly says, "I love you, too."

Quiet falls over the room for a few minutes after that, quiet breathing the only sound in the room until George's phone buzzes. They both try to ignore it, but then Matty's phone buzzes.

"We really should get up," George murmurs.

Matty makes a discontented sound, but he sits up, pushing curls out of his face, then clamors out of bed. George gets up, too, sitting on the edge of the bed, but Matty crowds into his space before he can stand up, kneeling on the edge of the bed so he can straddle George's lap and crossing his wrists behind George's neck.

"We're not going to make it to dinner if you don't move," George warns, wrapping and arm around Matty's waist. "We're gonna have to tell the guys that we missed dinner 'cause I was busy fucking you."

"You promise?" Matty pushes, leaning down for a kiss.

George chuckles. "We’ll never live it down," he warns.

"The funny thing," Matty murmurs, "is that I don't really care."

"You are incorrigible," George counters. "Absolutely incorrigible."

Matty takes one hand and cups George's jaw carefully, studying him intently, all big brown eyes and adoration. For a moment Matty thinks up an image of the George he met all those years ago, then of the teenage George he fell in love with and compares them to the George in front of him now. They've both gotten older, Matty knows, hell, he's begun to find grey hairs in his own dark hair, but he can't think of George as having gotten older, not in the way that he thinks of himself as having gotten older, or his parents as having gotten older. George is a constant, Matty thinks, even though there's stubble under his palm now and there wasn't the first time he touched George like this.

"You're staring," George says after a few moments.

Matty nods. "I've got a good view."

George ducks his head, like he's suddenly shy, and says, "Flatterer."

Matty urges his chin up and goes in for another kiss, this one a little longer and deeper. When they separate, he rests his forehead against George's and murmurs, "I love you. I adore you. And I keep thinkin' 'bout, uh, time, I guess, and how you're this, like, constant in my life, and I know I've gotten older, right, sometimes I look fucking old, but every time I look at you, 's like we're 24 again." Matty pauses, then, "I dunno, time is weird. I don't think any of that made sense, but I love you."

"It sorta made sense," George responds. "And I love you, too."

----

21. “Do you want me to hold you closer?” “No that’s not it, ugh—I just want to curl up inside you. Is that weird?”

Matty has slowly been getting closer to George all evening. He'd pushed his chair just a little closer to George when they sat down for dinner and stood a little closer when they did the dishes. They'd put on a film after dinner and Matty had made himself comfortable on one end of the couch, so George took the other. At first, they were next to each other on the couch, then they were very close to each other on the couch, then George got up to go search for weed, and when he'd come back, Matty had closed the space between them, pressing their thighs together. Then Matty leaned against him, solid and warm, so George draped his arm around Matty's shoulders. Matty took that as an invitation to hook his thigh over George's and lean a little heavier.

Finally, George pulls Matty half into his lap half-annoyed and saying, "You can have things you want, you know."

Matty smiles and rests his head against George's chest. "'s hot when you get frustrated and physical with me."

"Yeah, alright," George agrees.

"'s true," Matty protests.

"Watch the film, Matthew," George says, doing his best to sound firm.

"See, 's hot when you try to tell me what to do, too," Matty murmurs. "'s also hot when you call me Matthew."

"What are you trying to do, love?" George asks, voice low.

"Nothin', really," Matty admits. "Just wanna be close."

"Close I can do," George agrees, urging Matty to be more firmly in his lap.

Matty settles after that, done with his search for closeness and contact, resting his head on George's shoulder. He doesn't watch the film, just closes his eyes and relaxes, feeling the gentle rise and fall of George's chest and the steady beating of his heart. By the time the climax of the film rolls around, though, Matty has lost his ability to sit still, shifting like he's trying to get even closer to George.

Frustrated, George lights a joint and passes it to Matty like he can will him to relax. Matty accepts it, stilling long enough to take a drag and exhale smoke, before he's trying to burrow closer and passing it back.

"D'ya want me to hold you closer?" George asks, ignoring the fact that they're about as close as two people can be.

Matty shakes his head. "No, that's not it," he pauses, then, "ugh, I just want to curl up inside you. Is that weird?"

"A little bit," George admits, "but it's in, like, the bottom half of weird things you've said to me."

Matty pouts and takes the joint from between George's fingers, saying, "Give me that. You can't be a dick and have the joint."

"I think that was honest, Matty," George responds, but he makes no move to take the joint back, just watches Matty take a drag.

"One and the same," Matty counters. "'s one and the fucking same."

George huffs a laugh and takes the joint back, saying, "Whatever you say."

"See, that's how you were supposed to react in the beginning. You're not supposed to tell me 's weird that I wanna be close to you."

"You said you wanted to curl up inside me," George corrects.

Matty huffs and takes the joint back, but he doesn't continue arguing, just says, "Doesn't mean you're not being a dick," and takes a drag.

George presses a kiss to Matty's temple and says, "Please accept my deepest apologies, then."

"That is an inauthentic apology, George," Matty says, faux serious.

George wraps his arm around Matty a little tighter and murmurs, “I love you so much."

"Love you more," Matty responds.

George takes the joint back and murmurs, "You're impossible."

"I love you. More than anything. I, like, if we could be one," Matty laces his fingers together, "thing, I'd do it. Sometimes, when we're not together, it's, like, physically painful," he admits. "Sounds co-dependent, I know, but, I just, I want to be closer."

"I love you, too," George murmurs, "and I get it. I do." He moves his hand it's under Matty's shirt, skin to skin, and repeats, "I get it. I get, uh, closer."

[kellyscowboy]

”stop being dramatic the medicine flavor can’t be that bad,”

ikeshot please (i secretly love this dynamic)

"Stop bein' a baby, Ike." Hotshot said with a scoff.

"I'm not bein' a baby," Ike argued. "It tastes like toilet water."

"You would know what that tastes like."

"Stop it! I'm not taking another swig of that poison," Ike said and shoved the medicine away.

Hotshot sighed. Ike had been sick for a little over a week, and Hotshot had finally saved up enough to get him some medicine. The smaller boy had been miserable. Now, he was sitting there refusing it because it tasted a little bitter.

"Stop being dramatic, the medicine flavor can't be that bad." Hotshot began to pour more of the thick liquid onto a spoon.

"Why don't you try it, then?" Ike said.

The taller boy stopped. "Fine. Just to prove you're being a baby." Hotshot dragged the spoon over his tongue and physically recoiled once the medicine hit his tastebuds. He shook his head and tried to wipe the awful taste off with the side of his hand. "God, you've been taking spoonful's of that?"

"Yes! I told you! It's awful!" Ike pouted and crossed his arms. "I'd rather be sick."

"No, you wouldn't. C'mere. Let's try something."

As Ike leaned forward, Hotshot pinched his nostrils together. He pushed the spoon into the sick boy's mouth, then gave him a cup of water after he had taken the medicine. "How was that?"

"A lot better. Thank you," Ike said sincerely. He held onto Hotshot's hand and gave him a wide grin. Hotshot smiled for a second, looked to the side, then waved him off.

"Whatever. Get some rest."

[sunnyhoneyshimmermagic]

(Dee Dee and Teddy are at town square, selling apples and introducing our story):

Dee Dee: Get 'em while they're fresh! Apples! Christmas apples!

Teddy: We got Mclntosh!

Dee Dee: Get your Christmas apples.

Teddy: Red Delicious. Tuppence apiece while they last. Whatever the fuck that means.

Dee Dee: We... They won't last long the way you're eating them.

Teddy: Hey. I'm creatin' scarcity. Drives the prices up. Read all about it in Ladie's Home Journal

Dee Dee (sighs): Teddy... (sees us) Hello! Welcome to The Big Nate Christmas Carol! I am here to tell the story, in my usual dramatic fashion!

Teddy: And I am here for the food and bantz! This Christmas, I wanna be written with an actual character!

Dee Dee: My name is Charles Dickens.

Teddy: And my name is Teddy Ortiz! Hey, wait a second. You're not Charles Dickens!

Dee Dee: I am too!

Teddy: No. Dickens was called that for a reason!

Dee Dee: omg it's 2023

Teddy: your name isn't even Charles!

Dee Dee: good, cringe name

Teddy: Dickens was a 19th-century novelist! A genius! God I hang around Francis too much.

Dee Dee: Oh, you're too kind. :3

Teddy: Why should I believe you?

Dee Dee: Well... Because I know the story of "A Christmas Carol" like the back of my hand.

Teddy: do I smell a wager?

Dee Dee: I hope, otherwise I didn't brush my teeth well.

Teddy: ugh, just prove it! Prove you know it!

Dee Dee: All right. Um, there's a little mole on my thumb, from when I tried to taste the wood on my stage, and, uh, a scar on my wrist, from when I fell off my bicycle performing as Lance Armstrong: licence to juice.

Teddy: No, No, No, No, Don't tell us your hand. Tell us the story!!

Dee Dee: Oh! Oh!

Teddy: Thank you. Yes.

Dee Dee (ahem): The Betancourts were dead to begin with.

Teddy: Wha, Wha... Pardon me?

Dee Dee: That's how the story begins, Teddy. The Betancourts were dead to begin with. As dead as a doornail.

Teddy (getting into it): ooh! It's a good beginning! It's creepy and kind of spooky. Like Mrs. Godfrey in a conga line.

Dee Dee: Thank you, Teddy!

Teddy: You're welcome, Mrs. Dickens!

Dee Dee: now, where was I? Ah, yes. In life, the Betancourts had been business partners... With a shrewd moneylender named Gina Hemphil-Scrooge. You will meet her as she comes around that corner.

Teddy: Where?

Dee Dee: There. See, next to the klassic komix and Mr. Pretzel?

Teddy: Uh huh! When?

Dee Dee: Not yet... Not yet... Let the tension rise...

Teddy: I am, I am!

Dee Dee: ...Now!

(Gina enters, draped in a black coat and top hat, carrying a cane. Every step calculated and cold)

Dee Dee: There she is! Ms. Gina Hemphil-Scrooge.

Teddy: Say, Is it gettin' colder out here?

(Song)

Emmit the custodian: When a cold wind blows it chills you

Chills you to the bone

Czerwicki: But there's nothing in nature that

Freezes your heart

Like years of being alone

Rosa: It paints you with indifference

Like a lady paints with rouge

Clarke: And the worst of the worst

The most hated and cursed

Is the one that we call Scrooge (yeah)

Chester: Unkind as any

And the wrath of many

This is Gina Hemphil-Scrooge

Miranda, Angie, Kelly, Trudy, Kim, Jenny: Oh, there goes Ms. Humbug

There goes Ms. Grim

If they gave a prize for bein' unfair

The winner would be her

Brindle: Oh, Gina loves her money

'Cause she thinks it gives her power

If she became a flavor you can bet she would be sour

Staples, Shipulski, Calhoon, John, Galvin: There goes Ms. Skinflint

There goes Ms. Greed

The undisputed mistress of

The underhanded deed

Marty: She charges folks a fortune

For her dark and drafty houses

Vern and Marge: Poor folk live in misery

Uncle Ted: It's even worse for louses

Miranda, Angie, Kelly, Trudy, Kim, Jenny: She must be so lonely

She must be so sad

She goes to extremes

To convince us she's bad

She's really a victim of fear and of pride

Look close and there must be

A sweet girl inside.

...

Naaaah!

Everyone: There goes Ms. Outrage

There goes Ms. Sneer

Ahe has no time for friends or fun

Her anger makes that clear

Don't ask her for a favor

'Cause her nastiness increases

No crust of bread for those in need

No cheeses for us meeses

There goes Ms. Heartless

There goes Ms. Cruel

She never gives

She only takes

She lets this hunger rule

If bein' mean's a way of life you

Practice and rehearse

Then all that work is paying off

'Cause Gina's getting worse

Every day

In every way

Gina is getting worse!

(Gina sharply turns, giving a cold stare)

Everyone: OH, UM, I HAVE SOMETHING TO DO SUDDENLY

(They escape)

Gina (quiet rage): ...Humbug.

[neighborlywelcome]

OMG HELLO I LOVE MATCHUPS!! Platonic or romantic is up to you!

they/them, agender but I'm fine w/ bein femme and stuff sometimes :-3 i'm afab

female or nonbinary! !!!!!!! not kinger, caine or jax please!

TADC pls :-3

none, just no dudes srry,,,

I can be sarcastic and dry and kinda bitchy ngl but I try to be compassionate and helpful, I get sad sometimes (a lot,,,) and can get scared of big things easily (big emotional things) and I'm very defensive towards things I care about. I can be silly too...and stuff....

I LOVE ACTING, I wanna be an actor/actress, I love art, reading, I wanna make a fursuit too so ya :3 I READ A LOTTT

someone who communicates best they can

I'm a gift giver and phsyical touch, physical touch kinda grounds me (not weird physical stuff tho I think I may be ace :-p)

I'm a cancer!

I wear hoodies and shorts

I have shoulder-length brown hair and blue/grey eyes and lotss of acne scars

Oh hello, thank you for your request! :D I can do a mix of platonic and romantic for the headcanons, if you don't mind!

YOUR MATCHUP IS...

GANGLE!!!

Gangle and you are alike in many ways, you both get sad/scared easily but you have big hearts at the end of the day and you’re lovers of the arts! So whether you’re friends or partners or whatever you want, you can be assured you have a lot in common.

Dealing with emotions together is easy since you both understand what it’s like to be down or be fearful. Gangle appreciates it when you’re kind to her and also shows you ways in which she deals with her sadness, usually involving art projects or crafts.

Communication? Gangle isn’t hard to understand with her masks, so she’s rather emotive. You’ll know exactly when she’s happy or sad and needs cheering up. And if she has a problem, she’s comfortable telling you about it so you can help her through it, and vice versa.

This is a little too perfect but since you like acting, it’s cute Gangle is themed around the dramatic arts. But she also likes reading and writing and is over the moon when you two do these things together!

Also she’s a big supporter of your interests. As long as you let her ramble to you about anime and such while you actively listen, she’d love to hear about any of your passions like fursuits! I think she’d love anything to do with expressing your creative sides together.

Once she’s super comfortable with you, I can see her also being really physical affectionate. I imagine being wrapped in a hug with her ribbons is really grounding, especially after a particularly bad day.

[skullsandsteel]

“Brock…” Elliot flops dramatically onto the couch next to him. “I’m bored.” - @curseoffrell

Brock hardly even glanced over, his focus more on the TV as he flipped through the channels. He knows that tone, and he's not about to take the bait. Maybe.

"Why don't you go find something to do, then?" He muttered, his tone rough, but not exactly unkind. "You're an adult, I'm pretty fuckin' confident that you can find somethin' to entertain yourself with. Read a book, stare out the window," He finally landed on a channel playing some old action movie, tossing the remote on the coffee table and settling back on the couch. "Whatever it is you do when you're not bein' a pain in my ass."

The corner of his mouth twitched-- Not really that much annoyed. But he also wasn't going to give Elliot the satisfaction of being fully acknowledged fully just yet.

"Or you can sit an' watch--" He shrugged, "Whatever you want."

[boundlss]

" i know that I can't take back all of the mistakes, but i will try. " | domi to twain :' )

Somewhere down the line, they'd started talking about things like this. Twain isn't sure when it started---they'd definitely never delved too deeply into emotional conversations before taking off like this, favoring shared complaints over real connection. This trip hadn't started out like that, either. He remembers the first few days vividly; they'd been fun. Good for putting things out of mind.

But I guess it always gets like that at some point, he reflects. Things quiet down and you can't help but think about the things you came out here to run away from.

And now they're here, and Twain doesn't even have the slightest idea of what he can say to Dominique to... Well, to do anything at all. It's not that he wants her to shove all that to the side, but he's also never even been much good at working through his own issues.

"I think you're bein' a little too hard on yourself," he blurts, understanding the need to say something, even if it's not a perfect response. "I mean... Well, no, I did mean that. So what, you messed up a lot? Most people do. We can't all be perfect."

He chuckles, and it sounds a little self-depreciating in his own ears. "I ever tell you what I run around doin' things like this for?"

He doesn't look at Dominique, turning his eyes to the room around them with a strange, tranquil expression. It fits strangely on his face, which is used to wearing an overly dramatic mask most of the time. But he's never been nearly as dishonest with Dominique as he has been with the other people in his life---maybe because he already knew she could see through that kind of thing.

"Sure, it's fun. I didn't lie about that. But... Hah. Well. I don't think it's any secret that I must be the biggest fuck-up of higher vampire society socially, y'know? I... I did give it my best effort for a long time. And I was terrible at it. Terrible at coverin' up for my mistakes and fixin' 'em, too. So I started runnin' off. Not that it helped, or anything, but it got me away from everyone judgin' me over it. And then one day I just decided..."

He trails off, hanging his head a little. Saying it out loud, it seems a little more cowardly than it had felt when he'd made the decision in the first place.

"I just figured I'd quit tryin' to fix myself altogether. And, y'know what? It still sucks every time I have to go back for whatever reason, but at least I don't have to bend over backwards cleanin' my own messes up for people who wouldn't even notice the difference either way. But that's just my experience, so I'm not sure how much it's worth."

underclass hero. / accepting.

[bullsh1tterz]

Some lusher degree of... heartbreak - Adam never would've guessed that to be a vanquisher of a child's hope but, in retrospect, perhaps he should've. Hinging one's value on not even the perception of others but the illusion of what that might be or become. Hinging one's hope on a singular factor. What are these if not teenage proclivities? Adam's never quite managed to partake in them - always on the outside looking in when it came to all things 'others', all things opinion-based. He'd been called many a thing by many a valued folk and yet the only solidifier for his self-disdain is no one but himself. Call him something true, no matter how vile, and he will agree, undeterred, but claim him to bear a vileness or goodness he does not possess and face proper disbelief - whatever his anger might perpetuate it to become.

"Ya ever think that maybe this one little girl's not the standard for, oh, I don't know, the billions of people out there?" he asks, brow quirked in irritation. It's more so for the kid than it is at him, but the distinction might not quite be perceptible to the unfocused. "Just cuz she didn't know what's what, doesn't mean others won't. People suck. Some'll probably give ya shit over it - whatever the fu- hell it is - till death do ya part. Hell, some'll probably wish death does do ya part if they're dramatic. But, trust me, that don' mean normal folk who don't mind it ain' 'round the same corner. Y'just gotta find 'em. Might be harder. But if ya feel the need ta be seen 'r ta have that little secret o' yours seen past, y'gotta be willin' ta keep lookin' instead o' closin' off after one, two, three or hell even ten thousand people shut ya out." he says this, and yet he doesn't comply to it himself. Not because he believes it to be untrue or out of some hypocritical 'but I'm the exception' sentiment - it is simply that Adam fears being seen. He doesn't want it. And therefore he shuts himself off very much prior to that one, two, three or ten thousand. No need for trail and error if success is not preferred.

He can sense the kid is different, though, that he'd perhaps like to be seen. There's a way about him, in expression, in tone, which almost begs Adam to understand it on his own. He can't know for sure, but the general assumption he's operating on is such. He wouldn't mind being a loser. He is one. It's the other bits that burn. "Monsters can't even feel like losers, kid, they delude themselves into always thinkin' they won - never admit they've been knocked." A pause, gaze softening for a fleeting moment as he then reassures: "there's nothin' wrong with bein' a loser as long as ya know that's what ya are. Losers're just people that're flawed 'n dealt a shit hand. Knowin' y're one means y'can grow outta it 'n a snap. The key's ta recognize the flaws without slammin' y'rself over the head for havin' 'em. Hell, some are good for ya - keep ya grounded, keep ya y'rself all the same."

Ridiculous as the metaphor might be to him, because Adam's family was never built for the pretense of greatness - only the deep deep desire for it on his father's part which buried itself hopelessly into disinterested women's turned backs and leaflets of welfare to sponsor a gambler's thirst - he still opts to tell the boy what he'd do. Because, to the boy, it must be his own reality. Not photography, Adam can figure that much out even with his waning brain power, but there must be some legacy hanging over the teenager's back like a leach. Hurting him, perhaps, or wrangling his poor little soul into a web of expectation and perfectionism - amount to me, live up to me, why aren't you enough? Adam's never had that heaped on him, but the contrary strikes just as deeply. No web to strangle one if the spider leaves you in a viper's custody and forgets your name.

"... And that camera? I'd use it however I wanted." is the short answer, but an elaboration feels due. "And I say use it 'coz I like photography, not 'coz o' the family legacy 'r whatever." A fine distinction to be made. "It's not my problem that they're hot-shots. I don't like fame 'r grand legacies 'n all that crummy, elitist nonsense. If I did, I'd indulge. But I don't, so I wouldn't. Havin' a special camera-" being talented or "gifted", he thinks the other might've meant to convey - "doesn't really change either point. It's a privilege, so I'd use it wisely, but I wouldn't stick to how they used it. Maybe snap some shots o' people worse off 'n alert the world to 'em or somethin', ya get me? It doesn't sell as much 'n might count as some disappointin' hell-bringin' nonsense to the family but fuck if I care. They can take that business and shove it-" up their ass is much too lewd for a child... "into the nearest mud-pile for all I care." deep breath, hues settling into the boy's. "Tell me somethin', whatever-your-name-is, ya ever once stop ta consider what you'd want 'f they weren't floatin' over ya like flies?"

a smart kid ? tell it to his mediocre school-grades or the voice in his head --- not dark's , but his own , always self-berating or filled with some kind of horrible doubt . it's hard not to leap into the chasm of exception , to hog-tie and martyr himself right in front of the other , but he holds his tongue and that holds himself backwards , away from the edge enough : sure , his bizarre condition no doubt distinguished him amidst ordinary human beings , but even his other self had said something similar too once upon a time , hadn't he ? that purity wasn't so much a measure but a test of acceptance .

still , it terrifies . his thoughts fast flee elsewhere : where he wants to shake his head at the other , his eyes simply set heavy yet sincere in a long stare at them . thoughts like i don't think that's true and you've treated me the nicest anyone else might ever have and doesn't that make you good ? go unspoken , though he holds the thoughts close , clutching them tightly in his heart and the within curled clench of his fist . you just had to be bad enough according to who , anyways ? even phantom thieves had their standards , their morals ; sinner's wretched , twisted honor . his mother might have been considered a vile woman to anyone outside of the family , and his family was , in fact , particularly vile to another : the hikari , but dragging a stranger who was kind enough to take so much time into biblical dramatics like ancient curses and long-standing family feuds was something the niwa couldn't stand to do .

so the boy nods . reluctantly . ' i'm ... fifteen . all of this started last year , though . i --- ' he fumbles for words . flushes , ashamed and embarrassed with himself at the mere memory . ' ... i thought i had it . ' he's going to laugh at me , daisuke thinks , and if he were to be honest then he could have even laughed at himself , if only he were someone else listening to his own story . ' there was this girl i liked and i spent all this time writing a letter , only to get turned down . ' a wince . ' it was on my birthday . i thought that if she accepted it , then something ... i don't know . my life might have turned around , i might have been able to change . ' a happily ever after that never came to be outside of his imagination .

' ... being a loser makes me feel like a monster . ' it's soft and somber , but he still listens intently to the other . to every word . it's strange --- to think that he might be able to trust this person . not to test them , but just to let his limbs grow and to feel his back split open with the feathered flare of black wings like a suffocated corpse taking its first gasp of fresh air . the hope is cruel and borderline torturous : he wants to ask but he doesn't . anyone with criminal ties knew better than to flash them in the dark , and the niwa , for all his presumable innocence , couldn't count on the other to not have at least one single concern , especially if they were merely ordinary and not foul , not even as foul as they believed themselves to be .

' my family doesn't really say anything like that . but --- they do say i'm the only one who can do a lot of the things they want me to do . ' and wasn't he the only "dark" anymore ? his grandfather was too old , his mother couldn't transform , and his father hadn't a drop of cursed blood as the one who married into the mess that was his ancestry . there wasn't anyone but him who could carry on a legacy he wasn't sure he could inherit . ' i think ... they're probably right . for them , it's probably just ... business . ' his gaze ends up gravitating towards the other's camera . ' it's like --- if you were born from a family line of famous photographers , really famous photographers , and you were the only one in the world with a special camera , one of a kind --- what would you do ? '

[diabunnies]

"sing me the song of your people, you wicked bitch!"

━ asked new hot girl in town, chatgpt, to write me a "super duper dramatic dialogue between two lovers who are troubled by cheating allegations". jk i took some lines n zazz'd them up a bit so it seems a bit more human

characters: mikage reo + g/n reader

c/w: swearing! otherwise sfw, angst (???), reo bein an adulterer n mancity players r there 2 see it happen real time o_O, dia's rusty ahh dialogue writing abilities :(

"you make me unbearably sick, you know that? two years, reo, two years of trust down the fuckin drain! i thought i was enough for you to love!"

"i can expla-" his eyebrows furrow, clearly distressed from the sheer amount of sweat glazing them.

"no! i don't think u need to! even if u could, save it for the next bitch that saunters in since u seem so comfortable doin whatever u fuckin feel like!" you continue. the air stills now, almost suffocating if it weren't for the low thrumming of the air conditioner in the background. anyone could cut the tension with a knife, but why bother adding more pain?

"i thought we've done it all! been through hell and back, learnt all the lessons and forgave all the mistakes. but then you—you do this! can you feel how you just shattered my heart? is it me? do i not try hard enough? not show you just how much of my heart you take up?"

"i'm so sorry, babe, i don't know what else i can say for it to make this a little easier. i know i fucked up, i know i'm weak—no amount of apologies can and will excuse that. but you don't understand! i was doin it for us! was thinkin about our future, had to prove to you i can provide. you were never the problem!" he attempts to reach for you—no, he attempts to reach into your heart. probably to deliver one final blow to the chest, a blow with enough force that it'll cause your ribs to fracture and your heart to stop bleeding red. his long-legged frame drapes over your chest, but you paw away at his attempts at a half-assed hug. it's hard, really. it always ends like this almost every time, the same screaming, the same hatred and hysterics that cause the same pain and betrayal.

"provide? provide?! you know damn well what you have is enough to last us through anything! when have we ever felt threatened by such a thing—god, are you stupid? reo, you fuckin took a thousand dollars from nagi, stashed it in the most obvious spot, blatantly used it in the worst round, and then tried to lie your ass out of it! what the fuck do you mean 'provide'?" when will it end? mikage reo is a scummy, cheating bastard who cannot and will never stop, so spare yourself the ache next time.

"over a game of monopoly—pack it up you freaks! jesus christ, in my living room? under my own roof? in frong of my own goddamn monopoly board? i'm not even mad about reo cheating at this point, just shut up!" ah, there it is, the knife. it's wielded by none other than chigiri—naturally, as the others seem to be well on their way out the door.