𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩

ah,  but  my  dear,  the  world  is  not  kind  to  starlit  boys.  the  world  doesn't  know  what  to  do  with  sunshine  and  charcoal  and  martyrs  except  to  burn  and  burn  and  burn ;  and,  oh,  how  you  burned.

( what in god's name was he even talking about??? He could see the poor thing squinting her eyes. ) Are you trying to say you have some radioactive thing inside your chest...?

What the... ( She may not have a tadpole to connect their minds, but she sure felt the energy emanating from him. Though, unlike most, she didn't pull away nor feared it. No... Something almost morbid flashed within her eyes.

( she blinked slowly, then looked at him warily. But then obliged and gave him her hand. ) This better not be some creepy shit...

Is... That your dramatic way of saying you're in love with someone but it's one sided and you're this close 🤏 to crashing out?

... Did you get a disease because the tattoo artist reused their needles or something?

You're welcome. Also you got a peculiar chest tattoo. Who's the artist?

Meh. At least your face is cute.

You heard that, TWINK. Cover up, there isn't much to show anyway.

⠀ i gr͟o͟w. ⠀

. . . . hey gale. whatcha doin?

he never learns, does he ? .. alright, alright. no more sulking, time for soaking ! if he's up for it, they've been meaning to bask in some bubbles, too.

pff. they're not /that/ awful .. they can spare some decency ! every now and again .. .. minus the ruffled exterior, he looks like he needs it. for the soul, and all. is he alright — ?