sad to say that due to the various constraints on my time this month (fresh off the back of an animatic that took all of my june and july) i was not able to finish this in time for day 1 of matt/mello week.
however! to keep yāall in the loop i am posting this (extremely) rough storyboard of the animatic i was making for the day 1 prompt. it was supposed to be a comic at first and then turned into a mini animation because i actually suck at making comics and only know how to make these apparently.
pardon the absolute mess of it all. consider it an aperitif
this song in the context of matt struggling with addiction and his complex relationship with mello. matt allowing mello to last out at him and invade his personal space and treat him like shit because he constantly latches onto things that could kill him just to experience a hit of dopamine or brief moment where he doesn't feel like shit. matt realizing he's using mello like a drug and hating himself for it.
hey!!! it's @shaniacsboogara. this blog is for mellodramattic purposes ONLY because i love talking about them so much and want to dedicate a space on the internet to spamposting and maybe fic writing in the future if i'm motivated.
i'm currently involved in a pretty in-depth rp where i've been playing matt and i'd LOVE to answer any questions about the version of him i've written / my opinion on certain hcs / literally anything at all.
@drazmatic is my mello (and also my pookiebear) and posts the most JAWDROPPING art so make sure ur following her too.
spam me with asks. any asks. say anything to me. use this blog to dump all of your random M2 thoughts when you have nowhere else to put them.
im here on my knees bro. on my absolute knees and i am kissing your feet. im pounding the ground with my fists your art inspires me to wake up in the morning. im speechless and beside myself. i can do naught else but offer you my highest praise and accolades and respect. never stop comrade
OMG hi teehee i am a fan of ur art this means so much to me WAHHH
[Quick foreword: Hi! I wrote this a while ago, but decided to post it for MattMello week since I think it sorta works with the 'Love Languages / Forgotten Dreams' theme. That, and maybe if I post this and people like it I'll be motivated to write more lol.]
SUMMARY: Wammy's era, Mello gets jealous easily, Matt is too nice to Near. Just a little childhood M&M stuff with a little exploration into Mello's relationship with religion (no warnings aside from that <3)
Near wasnāt like the other Wammyās kids, he was weird. He didnāt fit in at all, he never talked to anyone, never played with anyone, he didnāt even try. All the little white haired boy ever did was stare. That, and play with toys all day, but he played wrong. Always crouching in the same corner, hoarding piles and piles of blocks and figurines, only to line them up in rows and stack them into pyramids over and over. Once he finished, heād take everything apart piece by piece, organizing everything into piles to start over again. Addition, subtraction, division- just like math. Mello hated math. He hated Near too.
God didnāt like it when you hated people. āThou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.ā Thatās what the bible said. Right now, Mello didnāt care about the bible. He cared that Nearās grubby little fingers were fiddling against the buttons of Mattās beloved Game Boy Advance, something he rarely even let Mello touch. For some reason, a stupid, stupid reason, Matt had waltzed over to the little freakās lair and offered the console to him. Mello didnāt care about Mario or Sonic or Pac-man, but seeing Mattās face light up as he rambled off directions and fun facts about the game filled Mello with a seething, holy rage. āThou shalt not covetā. He was coveting alright. This was bullshit.
After fiercely thinking the dirtiest word he knew, Mello huffed, shifting his weight restlessly before stepping towards the scene. He shouldnāt interfere, he knew that. Matt was engaged in an act of grace, stopping by the roadside like the Good Samaritan, following the example of Jesus Himself, who elected to dine with sinners and tax collectors. Yes, Mello knew the point of those stories was that everyone deserves kindness no matter who they are, but he was simultaneously, innately certain that Near was the absolute, singular exception to that rule.Ā
Much to Melloās dismay, Near barely even flinched as the Game Boy was wrenched from his grip. He looked so bored, so stupid, those bulbous, soulless eyes staring unblinkingly into his, not a hint of surprise or discomfort or anything. Mello hated him.
āDude!ā Matt scowled, squinting harshly in his direction. His eyes flickered anxiously over the controller, which Mello counted as a victory. Matt cared more about the safety of his GBA than that little twerpās feelings. Good.
Glancing down at the screen, Mello watched a giant stone brick descend upon a motionless Mario, crushing him to a pulp as the screen flickered to black. Serves him right, Near didnāt have the guts to be Mario anyway. Mario screamed when he died. He bet Near wouldnāt even make a sound. Pathetic.
Without another word, Mello shoved Mattās Game Boy into his pocket, anticipating the other boy would follow. Shooting a quick glance back, he caught Matt mumbling an apology to him before dusting off his knees. Near still didnāt react. Stupid. By the time Matt caught up, Mello was halfway up the stairs.
āWhat the hell, man?ā Matt swore, his face frowning and flushed. Despite his charitable actions, Matt was far from Christ-like. Swearing was a sin.Ā
Settling onto the nearest step, Mello passed Matt his game, scowling at the scuff marks on his shoes. He heard the steps creak as Matt settled down beside him, soon followed by Super Mario fading away and the Game Boy snapping shut. He huffed, digging his heel into a groove in the steps. Bullshit.
āNearās a freak.ā The truth easily spat out from his lips. There was no need to hide his vitriol, not from Matt. If anything, Matt was the one in the wrong here. He should hate Near too. Near didnāt deserve his attention.
From the brief exhalation beside him, he could tell Matt expected nothing less. āIām just being nice to him. Itās not a big deal.ā
Just being nice. But that was the problem. Near didnāt deserve to be treated nicely, especially not by Matt. He was supposed to sit in the corner and sulk and build his stupid, useless towers and play with his toys like a dumb little baby while Matt hung around with him because Matt was his friend. Matt wasnāt supposed to sacrifice his time and his precious Game Boy Advance for a drooling bug-eyed idiot whoād done nothing at all to deserve his friendship. Near was boring, and Matt hated being bored. There was no way Near would ever sneak out past curfew to climb up onto the rooftop or stay up all night laughing at his awful jokes. That luxury belonged to Mello, and Mello alone.
āHeās not your friend.ā Mello scolded, lifting his gaze to face him. Mattās hair was a frazzled mess, his watery eyes squished up beneath his brow. He looked stupid, red cheeks spattered with a skyās worth of freckles, confusion contorting his mouth into a tight, lopsided line. No matter how serious the situation, Mattās face always managed to convey every emotion in the most cartoonish way possible. He was easy to read, like heād hopped straight off the pages of a comic book.Ā
āGeezā¦ā Matt breathed, fidgeting with a button on his black-screened Game Boy. It was that tone he always used when Mello accidentally pushed too far, his words cutting more harshly than heād intended, huffing like steam from a scorching hot kettle. āJust thought he might be lonely.ā
As if Mello wasnāt feeling guilty enough. If Matt was the Good Samaritan, Mello was one of the robbers who beat up the helpless traveler and left him by the roadside to die. He was a Pharisee, a heretic, a disappointment to God. The weight of his sin relentlessly hovered over his head, while Matt obliviously painted himself as a portrait of righteousness out of impulse alone. He didnāt even believe in God, yet he was still so good.
āProbably.ā Mello muttered, turning his rosary in his hands. The grooves of the cross felt familiar under his fingers, paths heād absentmindedly traced now permanently etched into his memory. Acknowledgement, confession, thankfulness, supplicationā¦ the pillars of prayer. Repentance. Only God would get a proper apology.Ā
Surprisingly enough, the silence that settled between them lingered without the interruption of the Super Mario theme. Matt tended to retreat into the digital world at the first sign of conflict, preferring to move on and forget rather than address anything directly, even if that meant taking the blame himself. Mello liked to fight. Matt never gave him the chance.
āWhy do you hate him so much?ā Exactly what Mello expected. Of course, Matt didnāt understand. He was too soft, too naive, too good. Matt didnāt hate people the way Mello did, Matt needed to have reasons. He had to be convinced to hate someone, reluctant to judge solely based on a gut feeling or impulse, his perfect opposite. Knowing this, knowing he could never give his friend a solid reason for his vendetta, Mello conceded.Ā
āI just do.āĀ
Matt chuckled. He laughed at him, right in his face. For some reason, the anger he expected to feel at the slight never came, a coy smirk gracing his lips in its place. Matt had known how heād answer, and despite having the moral high ground in this scenario, refused to press him further. Maybe he wasnāt such a Good Samaritan after all.Ā
āIs it the eyes?ā Matt was undoubtedly a heathen. Any connections Mello had previously drawn between him and pinnacles of biblical morality crumbled immediately. āI donāt think Iāve ever seen him blink, man.ā
Mello fought back a laugh. āSure. Thatās part of it.ā He met Mattās gaze, something in his chest clenching abruptly. Maybe Matt had let Near play a few levels on his Gameboy Advance, but he never looked at Near like that. That look was Melloās. Everything from his dimples to that uneven smirk, to the slight scrunch in his nose as his eyes glimmered with idiotic contentment, that was Matt. That was the real Matt, and that Matt was his.Ā
There wasnāt much else to say. Melloās guilt lingered in the back of his mind, but was overshadowed by a sweeping sense of calm. He felt at peace, wholly at peace, the way heād always imagined it should feel to pray. Mattās knee eventually settled against his, their previous argument forgotten in lieu of Mattās determined attempt to rescue Princess Peach from Bowserās abominable clutches yet again. Mello feigned interest, eyes frequently flitting away from the screen to settle on Mattās face instead. His friend. His Matt. He thanked God for that.
[Thanks for reading if you did! I know this is short and kinda messy but I loveloveLOVE them and if you have any thoughts PLEASE lmk!!! <3]
Mello is all for the fight. Matt balances it out because he wants anything BUT the fight, therefore he is not seen as competition by Mello. Matt hates expectations. He just wants to be able to act without it equating to anything. Mello's style is very free-form and allows this.
