"It can't be." Ventus shook his head in wordless disbelief. "It can't be true."

"But it is."

"Terra," Ventus whined as he flung his hands towards the object of his doom—a dice roll of eight. "You can't do this to me."

"Move your scottish terrier, Ven," Terra replied, an evil smirk on his face as he eyed his beautiful, beautiful set of yellow properties and bright red hotels that spelled Ventus's fate. "You have no other choice."

"Aqua?"

With pity, Aqua shook her head at Ventus's desperate pleading. "I'm sorry, Ven, but he's right. You have to."

Terra wanted to burst into laughter at the horror on his friend's face but decided, with no little amount of regret, that that would probably be milking it. Finally, as if dragging his limbs through an ocean of mud, Ventus lifted his silver dog token and moved it ahead eight spaces to Marvin Gardens.

"That'll be 60,000 munny in rent," Terra pronounced.

Ventus scowled; his hands twitched as if they wanted to throw his property cards to the floor (or maybe at Terra's face), but he set them down carefully instead. "Great! Because of dumb freaking luck, I lost."

"Oh come on, Ven, don't be a sore loser."

"I'm not being a sore loser! You're supposed to be the one who goes bankrupt first because you buy all the stupidly expensive streets."

"You're just bitter because my superior strategy—" Aqua snorted quietly, which Terra ignored, "—means you have to clean the giant chains tomorrow."

Ventus crossed his arms. "I'm not cleaning them."

Terra crossed his arms back and pointedly met his stare. "Yes, you are."

Aqua shook her head and set her cards aside as well. "Ven, you lost fair and square. That means you have to clean the chains. We've been doing this for years and that's how it works."

"You and Terra have been doing this for years," Ventus corrected. "I was never in on this until I came here. I say the rules don't apply to me."

Terra spluttered. "That doesn't even make sense, Ven!"

"Yeah it does. I didn't get to make the rules; therefore, I don't have to follow them."

Terra broke his staredown with Ventus to look at Aqua for support, utterly aghast. "Aqua, back me up here. That doesn't make sense, right? Ven still has to clean the chains."

Aqua sighed. "Why do I always have to be the mediator for you two?"

"Aqua, you're the smartest person I know and I greatly respect your opinion and that's why I always ask you who's right whenever Ven and I argue," Terra said seriously, placing a hand on her shoulder. "So... I'm right, right?"

Aqua rolled her eyes with good humor, gently brushing his hand off. "You know, Ven does kind of have a point."

Ventus pumped a fist in victory.

"But..." Aqua gave him a significant glance. "Don't count your chickens just yet, Ven. You're still not right. You know our rules for deciding who does the chain chore—you've played the games with us twice now. Just because you weren't here when we first figured it out doesn't mean you get to be exempt from the risk you know you're taking. And honestly, you live here too, Ven. Sometimes you just have to clean a giant set of chains."

Terra grinned at Ventus triumphantly, at which Aqua rolled her eyes again. "Better get that mop and bucket ready for tomorrow, Ven."

"Yeah, for when I mop your face," he grumbled.

"Nice comeback, champ."

"As in I'm gonna have to mop your face," Ventus said, louder and smirking, "off the floor once Aqua crushes you at Monopoly for the thousandth time in your sad, annoying life."

"Ouch," Aqua murmured, beaming.

Terra scowled at them both with as much pretend contempt as he could muster, even as his heart swelled with fondness. "I hate you both. You're not my family anymore."

"Aw," Aqua cooed, though her eyes had softened, "we're family to you?"

Ventus grinned, hearing it as an Aqua-certified ribbing, but he hadn't been around long enough yet to realize that Terra never quite said things like that. He didn't even know what had compelled him to say it; it'd just come out.

Terra briefly met Aqua's warm, teasing gaze before looking away, gut twisting and cheeks beginning to flush with something like anxious embarrassment. "I've never seen you guys before in my life," he muttered and gestured towards the board and his stunning set-up. "Now pick up your cards, Aqua. I'm taking you down."

repudiate
verb | rih-PYOO-dee-ayt

1: to divorce or separate formally from (a woman)

2: to refuse to have anything to do with; disown

3: a: to refuse to accept; especially to reject as unauthorized or as having no binding force
b: to reject as untrue or unjust

4: to refuse to acknowledge or pay

a final note: if you're confused about terra's characterization at the end of this, i just really wanted to stick that in here and i promise i'll explain it fully in a future prompt! for now, i'll say that in my canon, he had attachment issues growing up and still has them to some extent, as well as anxiety (tho it doesn't act up often at home thanks to supportive relationships).

thanks for reading!