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dzpenumbra · 2 years ago

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2/26/23

I didn't get a lot of sleep today. I woke up early. I think I had intense dreams, again, don't remember. I got up and was going to pass out in the comfy chair, but just decided to stay up.

I finally got a bookcase. It was delivered yesterday. I spent a big chunk of the day putting it together, and fixing up the old table I got from my brother and sister in law. So... for the first time since my move-in in mid December... I started to unpack my stuff.

For years and years, I lived in my old house with stuff still in boxes in the living room. Like... 80% of my possessions just sitting in cardboard boxes in my living room. I had 3 empty closets and tons of space to put stuff. And I just... I couldn't figure out why my house was so messy! And I couldn't figure out the subconscious logic behind the boxes.

Now... it's starting to make more sense. As I finally make deliberate different choices, the contrast is starting to make sense. I'm making this place my home. I'm settling in.

The irony? The bookcase that my mom got me is designed to be foldable... so that it's easier for me... when I inevitably move. Like... even she is subconsciously aware of this, and hasn't connected the dots on why all my shit has been in boxes for years.

Why would I unpack? I might have to leave overnight. I might get my financial funding pulled. I might get evicted. I might <insert PTSD disaster scenario here>.

I remember back in like... 2016? 2017? My former best friend and her husband were like... showing off their bug-out bags to me, and talking about how they were like... because of the "tension with China"? or something? Ready to dip out in a moment's notice. Well... I mean, they'd be able to dip out for like... a few days... The rest of their stuff would be fucked if they left it.

But me? The majority of my precious possessions would just need to have the box they're stored in taped shut and put in a vehicle. My entire house is a bug-out bag. XD And it has been for a very long time. Ever since I moved off my parents property.

I came back from college and moved into my parents' property, above a 2-car garage. I actually moved in there, I made it a home and everything. When my ex and I "decided" to live together... aka when I decided to move... I wanted to make that a home as well. I tried to. But I wanted to make it a home with her. Together. But she was... obsessed with "work". Obsessed with making money. Obsessed with being "productive". Obsessed with paying off these mysterious debts that she never talked about, never showed me, never... oh boy... big red flags there, eh? Well, you know... you try to be nice and not pry when people seem really anxious and insecure and uncomfortable... and they just really take advantage of that, don't they? Yikes.

So... I got her a job. Through family connections. A great job, at a cool place. And she spent all her time there, and like no time with me. And when she got home, she'd just go in the spare room that was supposed to be my art studio... but became reserved for her second work-from-home job. And she'd just go work a shift there. And I'd take care of the dogs, and cook dinner, and play games and watch TV. And we'd just like... never really do shit together. We would play games sometimes - Diablo 3, Minecraft, League of Legends, Starbound, Starcraft 2 - I taught her from scratch, she got pretty good. But she would get frustrated and just drop it after a while. Work always took center stage. Despite rent being completely covered for her. Despite all her bills being taken care of. Despite never discussing a plan and refusing to discuss budgeting. Despite me giving her basically all of my savings to help her pay off her debts.

I know that in the future, if I see that, I need to be more suspicious. It feels unkind to do so, and I really don't know how to be... careful? Self-protective? In a way that is respectful. In the sense that... I err waaaaaay too far onto the side of self-sacrificing, yielding, etc. Giving way too much benefit of the doubt. But I'm not going to crack that nut tonight.

Because of this massive rift she was creating, how busy she was intentionally keeping herself, we had less and less in common, less and less shared. That, combined with her odd paradoxical obsessions with wanting to stay in a relationship with me, but being obsessed with the concept of "independence"... she ended up enslaving herself. And blaming me.

I didn't deserve the blame. I was just trying to create a home. A life. A shared home. A shared life. (again, a goal that... apparently... due to her obsession with independence... she did not share and did not disclose.) I put the development of that home on hold until she was ready to participate. And the place was cavernously empty for like 2-3 years. Because I was just... waiting. Waiting for her to make up her mind. She started to rent her own apartment on the side, while "living" in my house. We would fight regularly and she would retreat to her apartment. That went on for months. If only I had a good friend to like... sit down and tell me that was... really not normal. And that what she was doing behind the scenes... was not worth giving her dozens of second chances for. That I deserved much better.

All the while, the majority of my possessions were being stored above my parents' garage, still waiting to be moved in. And... my mom started renovating it. And she told me to get my stuff out of there, but I didn't really have a place to put it. I didn't want the clutter in the main room to upset my ex or make the place feel like... like it wasn't a home. I didn't want to store my stuff in "our" empty, unused studio space, which eventually just turned into... her spare bedroom while we were mildly fighting. Barren, dark and haunted when she retreated to her apartment when the fights got bigger.

After the breakup, and a long mourning period because this breakup synced up with some very tragic deaths, I reclaimed my possessions from my above parents' garage. That's where the boxes came from. The dreaded boxes. That's when the boxes started.

A lot of my possessions were covered in a coat of drywall dust. Splattered with paint and stuff. It... sucked. It hurt. Like... my college degree was damaged in that process. Whatever an art degree from a state college is worth in fucking 2023. And it hurt a lot. And I blamed myself. I didn't really feel like I had a choice, and it wasn't my fault, I was the victim there... but... I blamed myself. I salvaged what I could, which was a lot. But I left a lot of it there, and I wouldn't be too surprised if it was just kinda gone now. Things with my family were... shockingly horrible at that period in time. Surreally transforming. I think it was mostly because of my older brother getting married, big life transition growing pain kinda stuff. People don't tend to really understand that even big good things can also be traumatic, it's all in how it's processed and what it does to you. And I really think that's what was going on there, and no one really knew what was going on? Why they were so upset and the world was really threatening all of a sudden? (spoiler: it was big change) And I, the middle child, the black sheep, the weird dude with tattoos and camo pants and a Parkway Drive wifebeater with a peace sign on it, barefoot with stupid cheap sunglasses and a short mohawk... I'm an easy target. I'm a skateboarder. It's really fucking easy to have your boss treat you like shit and just take it, have someone cut you off in traffic and just take it, have a cop give you a stupid ticket for no reason and just take it, and then find a skateboarder skating in your parking spot and scream at them for 20 minutes about how they're going to hurt someone and "that's fucking illegal!"

I wish I wasn't used to it.

ANYWHO. Big can of worms there we're not getting into tonight... XD

So, the boxes that I brought back from my old place, from above my parents' garage, that had been there for like... a year or so already? They stayed on the floor of my main room in my old house for... 3 years? Give or take? Maybe 4? Early Summer 2019 to... Winter 2022. 3.5 years, let's go with that, split the difference.

I got a lot of shit for my stuff being there. And... I never unpacked it. I mean, I did with some of it, but like... not all of it. Just what I needed at the time.

My home did not feel like my home. Because it was never intended to be my home. That was never the plan. And I tried to make it my home. Especially during the pandemic, after I got off meds. I turned the old haunted workspace into an art/streaming studio, which was tremendously emotionally difficult and subsequently liberating. I made sure my dog knew very clearly that the futon mattress that my ex used to sleep on in the spare room was 100% hers (my dogs, that is, not my ex...), but I was going to nap on it with her sometimes because I wanted to be close to her. I reclaimed the space. The best I could.

And it was a house. But it was not a home. It wasn't my home. It was someone else's home that I was living in. And they lived on the property. And they were just... biding time until I left. Completely unaware of the severe water damage to the walls from shoddy construction. And I have no idea how they were unaware, because they were literally picking up pieces of rotting wood falling off of the walls when they were mowing the yard. But that, also, is a story for another day.

This apartment. It's... hard to tell what it is to me. Is it a transitional space? Is it... dare I say... home? At least for now?

I had no problem making a space a home for my dog and cat (who I miss so, so dearly every day), I have no problem making a space a home for a partner. Especially if it's a task we do together, building a home together. Good lord, that's an absolute fantasy of mine. I've wanted that for so long. But, apparently, I have a problem making a home for myself.

I have no problem making a home in Rimworld. Or in Minecraft, I've made tons of homes in Minecraft, and they're all very neatly organized and designed really cool and everything. I can actually see them in my head right now! The one I made in a snowy pine biome, the A-frame with the big floor to ceiling glass windows looking out over the valley. The farm house by the beach on the old modded server I played on with my ex-friend from Florida and his dad, with a big Chisels and Bits roof, and a deck looking out over the big corn and cotton and strawberry fields. With the huge sprawling dirt roads that stretched to a small coastal village with a marble train station with Chisels and Bits stained glass windows in it. The beach house I made in my last Valhelsia Vanilla world... then the starter house and the 2-story farmhouse and the massive wheat fields and Create windmill that I expanded to later... on my short lived but long-payed-for 2-player multiplayer server. Fort Saiga, with it's giant hedge maze inside the perimeter of the walls, that I built with my friend who lived in North Carolina back in like... oh good lord... this had to be... 2012? There was even a home that I built into the interior second floor of a gigantic Aztec temple that I built on the multiplayer server where I was a Mod and met my ex-Florida friend. So many homes. I'm not even going to get into Rimworld. I've almost hit 4k hours in that game. Countless homes.

So I can make a home for myself. And I enjoy it. But... I don't.

Because life is not secure for me. It's not predictable, it's not safe. I might have to pack all my shit and move in a week. My life has just... been that. That's my best guess. That's the closest I can get to unraveling this mystery right now. And I'm sure... like the mystery of my ex hiding her expenses and normalizing renting an apartment while in a live-in relationship... in about 5 years time I'm going to look back on this and see it clear as day. So here's a message to Future Me. Hi. You're kinda lucky. It's pretty spooky to be in this place. Not really knowing why shit is happening, big blank spots where there should be answers. Having all the data in front of you and not being able to piece it together.

I guess that's just... life. Right? Like... that's the point of learning, right? XD I mean, it's so damn simple but I don't think people really think about it. I hear shit like that a lot. "I don't know how to play guitar, so I'm never going to learn how to play guitar." What?! XD That's literally how learning works. I mean... no one can just... Matrix jack download information directly into their brain, it just doesn't work like that. Even if you could, you would lack context. That information would sound like gibberish, you wouldn't have the hands-on experience to apply it!

I fixed a piece of furniture today. I was warned that the legs of this table were wobbly, and the drawers were sticky. They were not wrong. I made the error of attacking this problem first, then assembling the bookshelf second, which was an error because... I didn't have a hex wrench. I always lose them. And the bookcase had one in it the whole time. Apparently people are just using the most annoying, easy to lose tool on the planet as the standard hardware now... I mean, it makes sense, it's a good design, lots of leverage, less risk of stripping screws, I get it... but hex wrenches hurt the hell out of my hands and I lose more of them than I do socks. Just sayin.

My point here is that I flipped this table over and studied the parts. Legs attached by screws with a washer and a metal ring, for spacing I guess? A wood corner piece that it screws through to hold the leg in place, on all four corners. Hex screws on all of them. So I took the legs off, checked the metal sockets on the legs to make sure they weren't loose or wobbly, seemed legit, and then screwed it back in and used pliers to get them firmly tight. That's where the hex wrench would've come in handy... Then I removed the drawers, studied the construction. Basically a piece of wood tacked to the bottom with a slot in it, and the corresponding puzzle piece attached to the table itself. I inspected the inside of this lock and key kinda mechanism and saw a lot of... some kind of residue built up. Could be anything really. So I spent a good amount of time getting sandpaper in there and just... sanding and wiping the gunk out of it. The best I could. The part attached to the table itself was easier than cleaning out the slot, but I did a pretty good job. Then I just put them back in, made sure they were aligned right and... ta-da. Not really good as new... if I actually manufactured new wooden parts for it, I would absolutely say so... but... much improved! Very stable, the drawers slide fine, don't stick.

All it took was an inquisitive mind. And a willingness to make mistakes. And to learn from, and fix those mistakes. That's all. And I learned a lot today about that, I feel much more capable of taking on other furniture projects now. Assembling the bookshelf after that felt like putting together legos compared to troubleshooting something without a manual or instructions. You know? It's a completely different experience, a different way of using your brain.

So... I guess I'm kinda hinting at... well, kinda more than hinting at, I'm kinda just saying... Maybe it's okay for me to not fully know what the deal with the boxes and making big messes everywhere is about. I'll find out in time. That doesn't mean... stop looking. That doesn't mean "never learn guitar". That doesn't mean "I'm a messy person, so fucking deal with it." It means... I don't know now because I lack that perspective. But I might in the near future. And it might teach me a lot about how to improve my life even more. It might just be a blind spot for me.

That said, I think I started to open the door on that realization today. And the ironic part, I had a live stream on most of the day of this pair of bald eagles nesting in California. Here, I'll share the link, I've been visiting a bit.

youtube

As I was sorting my stuff, putting some in storage, putting others in a more... accessible, intentional space on a bookshelf... I was kept company by a family, in their home, with their expected children. It was heartwarming, and I think encouraging.

I got a lot done, about half of the main room is in much better shape. My work space is coming up next. And my new computer desk should be arriving soon to herald that next phase of home development. My whole computer and work space is shared right now, and it's incredibly cramped. The new desk will be wonderful for computer and music stuff, writing and maybe even some drawing. Then art projects will happen on my drafting table. For now... until I can get a table that's a bit more sturdy, that ideally has a pegboard or built in tool storage included.

Until then? I'm going to have a massive pile of art supplies and tools just chillin on the floor within a reasonable arm's reach. Which... if you've ever met me in the wild - which you haven't because I'm a hermit... but... let's just use our imaginations here - is kinda just my natural state of being.

Hey, check that out, I don't even have to reset the vibes at the end of this. :) It's been a while! Have a good night!

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts #Youtube

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floraflow · 17 years ago

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the weirdness continuezzz

I think Christa has noticed how tuned out I’ve been at lunch and stuff cuz she invited me to go shopping with her and Gen (barf) this weekend.

I’m feeling a lot of mixed emotions about it cuz like, on one hand, I’m kinda honored that the prettiest, most popular girl in school is inviting me to stuff (I kno how lame that sounds LOL)... but on the the other hand, while I appreciate how considerate Christa is (she really seems to want to make me feel included), it sometimes feels like her generosity borders on pity? Idk if that’s true or if I’m just being self-conscious tho...

Another con is that GEN will be there (￣x￣;) I can’t tell if Gen HATES me, or if she just reserves her disdain for EVERYONE. It’s just so weird, cuz like one day, she’ll act like we’re BFFs and try to gossip with me (of course, this means that SHE gossips, while I listen and vaguely pretend to be interested--she even told me I’m “such a good listener!” xD), then the next day she won’t even acknowledge my existence and will intentionally freeze me out of conversations!! At first, I feel hurt and frustrated, but then I remind myself how unpleasant it is to interact with Gen LOL. It may sting momentarily, but its ultimately less mind-numbing and energy-consuming to be IGNORED by Gen than it is to pretend to be engrossed by her endless gossip sessions.

Anyway, I agreed to go shopping with them. We’ll just have to see how that goes.

In other news, James has hung out with me a few time while I’m working at the library (♡˙︶˙♡) Mrs. Stone (the head librarian, whom everyone cruelly and sarcastically refers to as Mrs. “Stone-Cold Fox,” cuz she is anything but) seems a lot less bothered by him than she is by Ana. I suppose James does have that signature shy/quiet disposition that charms all the ladies, in contrast to Ana’s fiery, loud one. Her boisterous laugh does tend to fill up any room she’s in... but don’t tell her I said that! ^_^;

Anyways, I’ve been opening up to James more and more, I told him about Ana and my fam, and he seemed genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the openness has not been reciprocated... :/ Well, except he did tell me that he has a lil’ sister too. She’s roughly the same age as Carma, so I guess that’s pretty cute.

But UGH I just keep waiting for him to invite me to his house (cuz mine is off-limits of course), but he keeps avoiding the subject or coming up with some vague excuse. Idk how to feel about it... like, I’m fairly certain he’s into me (otherwise why would he be loping around a dusty old library in his free time?), but his reticence to divulge some key things about himself does concern me a smidge. But I guess that’s what I get for falling for a guy whose whole “thing” is being a mysterious loner... *sigh*

#diary #the cross i must bear #LOL

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purgeturbia · 3 years ago

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GOING TO TALK ABOUT STYLISTIC VOCAL CHOICES REAL QUICKLY PLEASE EXCUSE ME WHILE I NERD OUT

k So. this is something i’m a huge fan of because it totally changes the tone of a song when it’s used and it just so happens that many of my favorite artists are very skilled at it, which probably explains why i like them so much.

what i’ve noticed is that there’s a difference between singing quietly because that’s what the dynamic markings in the sheet music call for and singing quietly because you’re restraining yourself. like something bigger is going to happen and you need to save your strength for it. or like something bigger could happen but it shouldn’t.

(this is hella long. like, almost 2k words long. so the rest is under the cut)

first place i noticed this was actually with wilbur soot’s vocals on the fall, from lovejoy’s ep pebble brain. in his first (solo) album, your city gave me asthma, wilbur was pretty consistent with singing quietly just for the sake of singing quietly. which is why it was quite surprising when in the fall he busted out this new technique. the fall is an angry song, generally. anger at british politicians, anger at the world. but the first verse is sung piano/mezzo piano, so upon first listen it just sounds kind of contemplative. however. it is very much so not contemplative. you can actively hear in wilbur’s voice how he’s holding himself back. how he has more to give but he’s not giving it, which really drives home the contrast when at the end of the song he’s literally just screaming into the microphone.

he had feelings! he had so many feelings the whole song but they meant so much more because he didn’t let them all out in the open until the end. (and moving away from vocals for a second because this Also deserves recognition -- the instrumentals for a lot of the song are really minimal and tend toward being staccato, which just adds to the feeling of holding back because every chord sounds like it’s being cut off). the contrast is also so much more beautiful because while wilbur’s vocals aren’t often incredibly loud, on lovejoy’s music so far they’ve never been this quiet. there’s a reason for them being as reserved as they are and damn does it pay off. there’s a reason why the fall is so many people’s favorite song off the ep (it is for me only second to it’s all futile! it’s all pointless! for reasons of iafiap is really good).

second place is actually with dodie. she is so much more a quiet singer than she is a loud one, so this one is definitely not as obvious, but. it’s there and it Works. we’re gonna go ahead and disregard her more upbeat pop-style stuff for this because it’s not as quiet and doesn’t really have any effect on the Vibe Difference i want to talk about, but i do want to note that every song they’ve ever released is a banger go listen to it right now this is the law thank you. anyway. there’s a difference between her vocals in songs like arms unfolding, soft and cozy and mildly depressing, and songs like i kissed someone (it wasn’t you) and human. the latter two songs are definitely more on the restrained end of the spectrum. it’s the difference between talking to your best friend on the couch at 1 am, just having fun, and telling them your biggest secret.

it’s the difference between sharing the parts of you that are sad and lonely and yearning but overall nice and digestible, vs. sharing the parts of you that people usually don’t want to hear about. the parts that aren’t so nice. the parts that hurt to say and hurt to look at. the difference in tone is what makes you understand that human isn’t just a normal love song -- it’s about being fucked up and codependent. their choice to use restraint here is part of what makes their music have actual Variety instead of all just sounding the same (which is so frustratingly common in the World of Modern Music TM). because of her general style this is a way more subtle difference and i also could be making it up BUT assuming it was on purpose and i just got lucky enough to notice that she is a Genius (which, like. she is anyway BUT U GET WHAT IM SAYING) i feel like it fits the discussion here.

and for the grand finale let us talk about my favorite incredibly talented music wizards or whichever sufficiently mystical way you would like to refer to them: the amazing devil. i’m gonna focus my discussion on ruin (the album, but also later the song) for this one, simply because i don’t even need to talk about any of the rest of their discography to get my point across, but know that this does happen in other places and it does emotionally destroy me every other time it happens as well. so!

something i adore about this particular example is that joey motherfucking batey is so goddamn talented that he uses different levels of restraint within the same fucking song (is that song nine minutes long? yes. doesn’t matter. still unfair of him). i am of course talking about the old witch sleep and the good man grace. holy Shit what a song. anyway. in The Beginning, joey’s doing his thing, singing about how he’s way cooler than the weird shadow people, and he’s quiet, which is, like dodie, pretty normal for him. yeah he goes feral, but also fair exists. so.

but the part that gets me! is that you can tell something’s coming. you know he’s about to go apeshit. you can just feel it in the way his every note is so measured and the tempo is so carefully controlled. the restraint is so potent -- that kind of calm can’t and won’t last forever. and then the explosion comes so suddenly and you’ve known it was coming and the first few times you listen to the song it still scares you because the first verse was so careful. so quiet. so joey’s got his couple minutes of being feral as all get-out, and then. oh, and Then -- let’s bury this.

this is restrained on a whole different level. before this, joey and wilbur had been playing the same game. restrain your voice now, keep things measured and short and even, so that when you let go later it’s felt a thousand times more. now, though, now shit’s gotten real. it’s like graduating from playing tic-tac-toe and going straight to fucking five-grid sudoku. joey batey is not here to mess around. he’s here to make you his bitch, actually, and you’re gonna fucking know it, literally just because of his technique. what the fuck. this is restrained because he’s scaring the shit out of you and he doesn’t need to be loud and angry to do it. this is restrained because he wants you to know that when he lets go you’re gonna regret everything you ever did to get in this situation. can you tell i think he’s a musical genius? anyway. mans wants blood. and he’s far more loose with the tempo, with the dynamics, even with the notes -- they’re sliding all over the place now, and the jumps are more random too. but his tone is still restrained. he’s still holding back and you know it and then you know it even more because he goes feral again at the end and it’s oh such a beautiful payoff i could LIVE in those few measures! i could live in any of their music but that’s beside the point.

so i’m kind of getting off my own track here with this one but i want to also draw attention to how IMMEDIATELY after the old witch sleep and the good man grace we have ruin, which is just. the Most emotionally devastating song i have possibly ever listened to (aside from actually dodie’s when -- the studio version, which destroys me every time i listen to it). but we aren’t here to talk about how good ruin is because i already did that and nobody wants to hear it a second time. we are here, however, to talk about how the emotional fucking whiplash of this album comes not only from the order of the songs but Also from the tone change. madeleine (she’s here now! hell yeah!) starts singing and you get none of the restraint that joey had literally a minute and a half ago. yeah it’s quiet and also depressing as fuck, but her voice just kind of floats. she’s making the sound soft and close-feeling without necessarily holding anything back, if that makes sense. the dynamics and the vocal tone aren’t what cause the build-up in this song; it’s the accompaniment and the chord progression and the harmonies and the LYRICS, the Fucking lyrics.

also, if we back up a couple steps -- immediately preceding the old witch sleep and the good man grace is chords, which also is just So painful. chords is kind of a balance between towsatgmg and ruin, which i think is so valuable because to go from that balance to the extreme ends of the spectrum with absolutely zero buffer really emphasizes the contrast. you hear what a normal fucking song sounds like and then you hear Absolutely Feral Joey Batey and then immediately the We Are Going to Make You Cry (A Lot) duo. and chords is the same as ruin where there’s not any particular restraint, but it does have a lot more tonal contrast in general and that’s what makes it the middle ground.

(one note really quickly lol -- i am so aware that it sounds like i’m just taking dynamic contrast and blowing it out of proportion but i Promise it’s not just that i just somehow don’t know enough of the actual technical words for what i’m talking about to explain it properly so pls excuse me for that)

IN CONCLUSION (or, a terrible TL;DR): my favorite musical artists are all so talented that i was forced (yes, forced) to write 1.7k words about one specific talent that they all share and use way too many parentheses and irregular capitalizations to get my point across. wilbur soot is the only one of these artists who will use tonal differences expertly but not to make you cry. yet. the bitches at the academy better nominate build a problem for a grammy. and it better win. and also joey batey is an evil, evil man but i hope he and madeleine are both having the best day always (but also i’m mad at them. but also i love them). i do not have enough free time to have written this. i wrote 1.5k words of this in one sitting. i need more people who will listen to me talk about music. please listen to all of these artists. MUSICIANS U GOTTA THINK ABOUT THE EMOTIONS AND THE INTENT AND THE IMAGERY BEFORE U JUST START SINGING WORDS BECAUSE UR SONG IS GONNA SUCK IF YOU DON’T SOUND LIKE YOU MEAN IT. that is all. thank u.

#the amazing devil #lovejoy #wilbur soot #dodie #so uh. hey guys intro to my music taste here #basically it's #Extremely Indie indie artists #who are also english #and do/have done a lot of their promotion on youtube #thrilled to be able to tag them all in the same post :)#unlike most of my other long posts i have slightly edited this one!#but in exchange for that it's super fucking long so sorry lmao #can u guys tell im a choir kid #it's been a hot sec but i still get way too into analyzing vocal technique lol #ok anyway if you got this far into the tags thank you for reading them and also if you read the whole post thank u <3 #holy Shit #my writing #words i like #this is going in that tag fuck u

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binniedeactivated · 3 years ago

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Binnie!!,, I’ve been feening for your toxic!kai drabbles this entire week omg you write him so well 💆🏾‍♀️. I was wondering if you could write one based on the song “Heartbeat” by Childish Gambino please 🙇🏾‍♀️. (I feel like this suits the relationship he has with the reader sm😭) LOVE YOU💕💕

[ heuning kai ] - 9:43pm

[ word count ] - 945

notes - thank you sm babe! I’ve never heard the song before actually so it took a couple of listens for me to get the gist 😭 but I hope you like this! Ily too babe <3

she threw another pair of stilettos in her closet so she could look for something different. It was a bad habit of hers really, and it’s the reason why her shoes were never in their proper order. whenever she needed shoes all she did was scramble through them all just to find the ones that went perfect with her outfit. But she was so indecisive none of them ever did.

she instead decided to allow her son to give her a little advice. she turns around and smooths out her short auburn cocktail dress. she didn’t have much curves to fit it the way she wanted but the small dips in the pear shaped body she saw in the mirror was enough for her. she loved herself and the way her dark skin contrasted the color of the dress made her love herself even more. she just hoped that the guy on the blind date her friends set her up with felt the same way. “so? what do you think baby?”. her son shifted his hazelnut colored eyes to the woman at the foot of the bed and he smiled softly, his dimples depressed into the both of his soft cheeks and his curly black disheveled hair was a result of him laying down for almost the entirety of the afternoon.

“you look so pretty mommy. where are you going? Are you leaving me?”. the five year old smiled before he sort of pouted. his high pitched voice always made her heart warm. he was such a sweetie for her. “Thank you baby. Mommy’s going on a date tonight”. he furrowed his brows. “A date? why a date? Where am I going to go?”. she thanked god for the pair of heels she found peeking from underneath her bed. they were perfect. “I’m just going to have fun hopefully. And you’re going with daddy. he should be picking you up soon”. at the sound of that he instantly perked his head up higher and smiled from ear to ear. “Really?? I’m going with daddy?!”.

That’s another thing, she hated his father. she hated heuning kai. but the one thing she couldn’t say about him was that he was a bad father. he treated Blaise the way she wished her father had treated her. And blaise loved him with all his heart. She would never let their relationship get between their father to son bond. It always felt odd though, loving someone that looked so much like the man she despised.

once she finished strapping her heels on she grabbed her purse and checked her phone, hoping her date hadn’t arrived too early. she didn’t even get time to open her messages before the doorbell rung. her heart thumped around nervously. She didn’t know what to expect, hell she didn’t even know what the man even looked like. she just hoped to god that above all else he was nice. Lord knows she needed a man that wasn’t so toxic and controlling for once in her life. but her friends had her best interest so she trusted them. she twisted the doorknob pulling the front door open expecting to see her knight and shining armor. that wasn’t what she got though, instead it was her son’s blonde haired father in his normal attire, an oversized grey hoodie and sweatpants. she took no time looking back at her bedroom yelling, “Blaise get your stuff! Daddy’s here”.

while she did that though kai didn’t hesitate taking a glimpse of her body and beauty. she was a living bratz doll he’ll admit that. His heart raced at the sight of her. it always did but the heart pounding was more intense this time around since she was extra dolled up like this. By the time she turned back around she could see his eyes wandering around her waist before shortly settling into her eyes. standing beneath him was intimidating to say the least. His gaze made her blush every single time and he knew it. To prevent doing it though she always looked away, afraid of falling for him so easily like she been doing for the past few years.

“you look gorgeous. where you going?”.

“blaise hurry up. What’s taking you so long?”. she ignored him wondering what her son was doing all of a sudden. Usually he ran right up to his father. He was probably packing toys to bring. kai noticed how reserved she was being . “so you can’t answer my questions now?”.

“kai please. worry about yourself alright? I’m going out and you came here to pick up Blaise so do that”.

he quickly put on that cunning smile he always wore. he always thought her attitude was cute. especially when it never phased him at all. “why do you act like this?”.

“Act like what?”.

“Act like you hate my guts. just come to your fucking senses already. this relationship has been the same cycle for the last five years”.

“because you’re a two timing bastard who doesn’t know how to move on and leave it at that. you do the same shit heuning. you sit here and act like you want me and then I find out you’re with some other girl. I’m so sick of you”.

he leans against the door frame, towering over her once again with that cute ass small smirk of his. his shoulders were so broad and he looked a bit more muscular than normal but that was besides the point. she wasn’t trying to focus on his appearance. “The only girl I want is you though. you know that. and stop acting like you don’t be with other guys too. I know you better than you think”.

“whatever”.

“so who are you fucking now? i bet it’s some preppy ass corporate dickhead. you always fall for those types”.

“can you mind your business? whoever I’m with has nothing to do with you”.

he leans closer, cupping her chin with his hand. his gaze was lethal and she froze at the sight of it.

“that whole fake attitude that you’re doing isn’t working. It has everything to do with me. Because while you’re with him guess who you’re going to be texting? Hm? Isn’t that what you always do?”.

A tidal wave of guilt washed over her. She didn’t know whether to release herself from his grip or to stay because believe it or not, the sound of his voice alone turned her into putty. “Kai you stop it”.

“texting me all the fucking time. telling me how much your new guy sucks, telling me how much you want me. Isn’t that what you do?”.

she stuttered a small no, lying through her teeth. she knew it wouldn’t save her pride but he had a way of degrading and humiliating her without saying much of anything.

“If you’re going to lie about it I’ll make it your reality. that would be hell on earth wouldn’t it? since your always pouting about how your new man can’t make you cum?”.

the way he made her yearn for him every single time was dangerous. he knew just what to do. he knew what to say to have her where he wanted her. that what was his specialty. manipulation at its finest. he curled his tongue between her lips before he kissed her, their lips being so mesmerizing when conjoined that she never looked forward to when he pulled away. he always did just enough. just enough to let her taste him and instantly want more.

“Daddy! I’m ready now!”. The small boy ran to his father’s legs hugging them excitedly with his Superman backpack strapped to his shoulders, he was ready for whatever adventure they were about to go on together. “Where you been buddy I was waiting so long for you!”. Kai playfully scolded. “I had to get my toys! I’m ready now!”.

kai took one last glare at her knowing more than anything she was regretting the decision to go out with someone else. he smirked even still. “have fun on your date”.

#toxic!kai #angst #heuning kai #kai

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heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

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Eat the Rich*

Summary: You’re just a girl in a bar way above your tax bracket and Ransom really doesn’t care for what you’re wearing.

A/N: There are no spoilers for the movie. But, there IS... Smut. Dirty talk. Class warfare in the form of hate-fucking. 2.9k words of FILTH. I need to be exorcised for this. Thank you @evanstarff and @tropicalcap for sending me straight to hell.

The entire lounge seems to turn when you enter. Eyes slide back and forth your way, mid-conversation mouths dipping into low frowns. Amidst the old-money frat boys from Cambridge, Beacon Hill Barbie socialites, and Downtown business young bloods, you’re a flagrant contrast in ripped jeans and an old hoodie.

A favorite hoodie. An incendiary hoodie.

The kind of hoodie that is worn with pride around these West End parts. Even the group you arrive with tried to hackle you out of it— bachelorette party decorum, they cried, will you please take that thing off?

Your cousin might be marrying Silverspoon Asswipe and stringing herself up pretty next to all his call-girl friends, but you are a Jamaica Plain girl through and through and you will not stuff yourself into a glitzy cocktail dress before this hoodie.

She waves her hand at the hostess to distract her from your outfit, rustling the satin sash over her glossy sweetheart neckline, “Reservation under Prentiss; it was booked this morning?” And then a sharp look at you as if to say, you made the reservations, right?!

Duh. Your eyes respond when the hostess begins to lead your party back. You follow the tail end of the throng, veering off towards the bar; the miasma of Chanel perfume is enough to gag, and the cigar smoke is only a tiny bit better. Not like they’d care or even notice.

“Do you have PBR?”

The bartender stutters and before you can make him any more uncomfortable, a deep voice from beside you nips it in the bud.

Broad shoulders turn until you see his face. Amused, with a single raised eyebrow, mouth just barely tilting up at one corner. Mid-thirties and extremely well-groomed. Slicked back brown hair and classic Ray Bans hang from the collar of his sweater. Too handsome for his own good with the unmistakable swagger of someone grown up filthy rich.

“She’ll have the Glenfiddich. Neat.”

Certainly smug enough to butt in like you’re old friends.

“Will she?” You ponder defiantly at the pursed lips nestled over a strong jaw.

His own thick crystal glass is easily tipped into his mouth when he takes a too-large swig. Signet rings on two left fingers glimmer, and with a low exhale bordering a growl, he hisses through his teeth, “Yeah. I think you will.”

Bold blue eyes roam over your top and the statement printed there for a second before he scrutinizes your face. Then, purposefully—and knowing that your eyes are on him-- he looks back down to the swell of your chest.

A hum of approval before he faces forward again, only giving you his side profile.

“Wow,” you scoff, “Dick.”

The grin that splits his mouth for a second looks angelic if angels could be full-grown men with full-grown egos to match. “Close. It’s Ransom.”

Amber sloshes when the bartender returns, and you chance a sip because even your pride isn’t stupid enough to pass on a free glass of Glenfiddich.

The whiskey bites for a second before rolling smoothly down your throat. There’s an inherently superior taste to these luxury drinks, but you pull a face all the same, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Ransom chuckles, head turning just a tad as he looks to you from the corner of his eye.

“You making a statement with that thing on, or what?”

“You’re the one making a statement with that ladies wool scarf from Drake’s.”

Ransom jerks to you fully now, attention snatched by your wit as he leans in, “Where’d you come from, little girl? Not everyone walks into Carver’s dressed in rags.”

He really is a piece of work. When you tell him your neighborhood, as expected, he snorts with disdain, but his eyes fall back on you again, highly intrigued. “There’s more to you, isn’t there? My scarf, that attitude. Someone taught you a thing or two, didn’t they?”

The single-malt mouthful is singing in your veins and if your confidence was thinking about simmering down for a second, it’s forgotten itself inside the furious swirl. The hand around your empty glass clutches just a tiny bit tighter.

“Oh, come on,” Ransom waggles two fingers for another round, “Let’s see, I’m thinking… blue-collar parents, siblings, maybe with shared rooms in your dilapidated Jamaica Plain home?” A tap of his finger to that pink bottom lip too damn pretty to be on his wretched face, he pretends to mull a thought over.

He looks you up and down, taking just enough time to where you feel violated under his gaze, “I know: Public college. Two-year community. Working a day job in Back Bay made you bitter, didn’t it? Hence, statement piece.”

“Asshole,” you snap, unraveling at the seams with rage, and the bartender quickly flits away again, “Full ride to Northeastern, four years with honors. Back Bay can’t fucking afford me.”

You don’t know how he does it, but his derisive silence incenses you even more. He couples it with a slow flick of his tongue over teeth, flagrant staring, and the piercing blue of his eyes spotlight a trail—across your shoulders, down your arm, jumping from your fingertip to your thigh, and then it dips between.

Every inch of your body prickles alive with reaction, so naturally, you spit, “Fuck you.”

Ransom’s smile grows until it nearly looks genuine, but then the sharp points of his canines sink right into your gut.

“When?”

There is something ugly and incredible simmering behind his thick curtain eyelashes. A clear ocean grows stormy, sizzling like a cruel tempest rushing to life. The yellow gaussian blur from dim scone lights suddenly cast shadows over his sharp nose.

He slaps too many bills on the polished ebony and the swish of his scarf flicks over your knee when he stands. Ransom towers over you, light pink flush of inebriation and excitement growing hotter on his sculpted cheeks. He leans in, the open flaps of his overcoat falling around your shoulder, threatening to swallow you inside all his dark.

Low timbre and dusky spice goads, “Put your money where your mouth is, scholarship; that sweater’s not all talk, is it?”

Dick!

Big hands yank the hem up over your head for a second before something changes his mind. The heavy steel door is latched twice over and he’s pushing you into it with his imposing frame. Your skull hits the metal as his knee parts your thigh, leg shoving itself up in-between until you’re on your tip-toes, with nothing to do but land on him. The heat of it rushes all the way up to the top of your head, pouring from your mouth in a choked mewl.

Ransom rucks the top over your breasts until the words scrunch up at your collarbones and you think it must bring him some masochistic satisfaction to know their unforgiving glare:

Eat the Rich

His warning chills your spine.

“I’m gonna fuck that line from your brain. Fuck it right out.”

He yanks everything south of your waist to your ankles and pulls himself free from his pants, effortlessly tearing a condom from inside his leather wallet and slipping it on. Between the time he gets your bare ass on the counter and the sound of the rubber snap, he’s already branded a purple streak onto the side of your neck and you’re embarrassingly wet.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see his length rising from beneath his cable-knit. Bright pink and angry, and so goddamn thick it makes you whimper. Ransom smothers it with his demanding and hungry mouth, impatient at being empty, stinging with whiskey and force. He’s probably never waited on anything in his life and within a short fifteen minutes of meeting him, you know that to be true.

Not a care in the world is given as goosebumps break out all over your arms.

He spins you into the sink countertop and then the two of you are staring at each other in the mirror’s reflection. His hands return to your hips with a bruising clutch and those thick fingers begin to rub the slick between your folds all over your thighs. Fucking A-- It’s good. Idiot rich boy does have the Midas Touch.

One long leg kicks your jeans completely off, sole of his shoes stomping all over them. He’s unforgivingly large and he knows it because everything about Ransom Drysdale is a statement: his clothes, his attitude, his dick. There’s a joke in here somewhere about him being the very epitome of it, but he’s glaring at you with that pretty bottom lip stretched between perfect white teeth and maybe you can forgive the fact that he’s leaving boot marks all over your jeans and bruises in the shape of fingerprints on your back.

“Tell me,” he teases, slipping one finger in, the metal of his ring pressing up against your clit, “Tell me you’ve had it like this before.”

A slow roll of his hips against your ass, letting the weight of his cock pressed hot and tight between his body and yours. You find yourself inching higher, micro-movements attuned to his, staring but unseeing at his face, buzzing with the raw need to be clenching around more than one finger.

“Not like this, not off Glenfiddich, in Jamaica Plain…”

And without thinking, because there isn’t much to think about, you hiss, “Oh, fuck you!”

Ransom chuckles into your ear because your voice breaks just a tad and he’s going to win this fight. Claws and teeth out sharper than knives, he bites down on your shoulder and slips in another finger. The distinct sensations—soft, slippery, strokes and the sting of his teeth—are scrambling your brain.

He grips himself tight, pushes in with uncharacteristic restraint, and you’re so desperate and aching for it all you can do is push back and pray the sound you might be making isn’t loud enough for everyone in the damn place to hear.

You stifle a grunt with his next languid stroke and Ransom raises an eyebrow, “What? You suddenly shy now?”

It might be just a restroom, but it’s one of the nicest places you’ve ever been inside. Carver’s cigar room’s private single occupancy nook and he’s usurped it to screw you senseless. As if reading your thoughts, he rolls his eyes and continues, glaring at your half-lidded reflection.

“Who gives a shit?” Then, another smirk, “If you’re gonna scream, get my name right.”

Your belly is quivering from the pressure, holding yourself together as best you can before he takes you to pieces. The grooves in his rings cut into your skin. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers crawling up your chin to shove inside your mouth.

Like everything else he’s ever wanted in his life, he’ll own this, too.

And then it’s only punishment. Ransom twists your hair around one fist, other forearm pressing like an anchor on your sternum, wrist shoved through the neckline, hand splayed open and clutching your throat and it goes nearly all the way around. The reflection of your panting mouth and bouncing breasts matching his every thrust is lewd and vile and so goddamn good.

“I bet you fuck on top, don’t you, scholarship?” He releases your throat to pinch your cheeks together, tipping your head derisively, making you nod yourself stupid—awful and humiliating but it unexpectedly thrills.

“Bet you’re too proud to ask.” He makes you nod again, “Bet you want someone to fuck you open just like this—all filthy and sloppy—“

And he doesn’t have to make you agree that time, you’re already limp in expectation and your reflection, damn her, she nods.

He’s still fully dressed, coat swaying to cocoon the both of you in what is probably a hundred thousand dollars. His watch, his rings, his fucking boxers. That stupid cable knit sweater.

A yelp leaks out with your orgasm- unexpected and high and quick, like a wounded animal as you tip your head back onto his shoulder. He doesn’t stop, even for a second. Ransom thrusts deeper, and on the cusp of your second undoing, he licks an errant bead of sweat down the back of your neck.

“You got one more. Yeah, that’s right— one more— God, your pussy loves it. Squeezing me fucking good.” He’s sick. He’s sick and Jesus Christ, aren’t you, too? “Yeah. Push back on my cock. Fuck yourself with it…”

He guides your fingers to your clit with his free hand and begins to rub in motions. Your eyes flutter when he breathes into your ear, “There you go, scholarship, you’ll never get dick this good again—so go ahead and be selfish. I wanna see you all fucked out, fucked stupid, coming all over my dick.”

With two fingers sluiced with your spit, Ransom crams them up next to his cock and you can’t believe how he did it so easily but maybe you can. Yes, filthy and sloppy and never like you’ve had before. Your hands grip the counter top so tightly the tips look white and bloodless and the strained coil inside snaps clean in two.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! God!”

You slump backwards, fingertips to toes shocked tingly numb, boneless and empty of all thought, but he holds you up with ease. Ransom shushes your gasps, paws your breasts and fluttering sternum, runs his hand over your face and throat. The pinch of his fingers returns to your cheeks and he drags his other hand from inside your pussy up into to your mouth. Slick and dripping, a little rubbery from the condom, but otherwise just like yourself.

“Well, look at that. Aren’t you just…”

He pauses to view your blissful face, covered in a sheen layer of sweat, head resting on his shoulder, slanted just enough so that the tip of your nose brushes his jaw. A quick laugh, strangely knowing and a bit sweet or maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, before he turns cold again.

“Make good on your slogan. Get on your fucking knees.”

His hand looks ridiculous, big and strong and wrapped around the best part of him, completely filthy with you smeared over his fist and you slide to your knees, forehead resting briefly on his knee. His pants have fallen around his ankles, boxers still midway, and you’re so exhausted you can hardly do much more than give him a light kiss to his inner thigh—God knows why—before you peel the rubber off.

It lands into the toilet and you obediently stick out your tongue, still panting to catch your breath as Ransom aims toward your open throat. “There you go,” he groans, fisting himself, “That’s it. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”

And you don’t.

“So,” your old mentor asks, familiar low drawl of his voice crackling with the tone of a lifelong smoker, “What do you think?”

A hum passes through from your end as you think about all the ways Ransom Drysdale Thrombey pulled you apart and in all the ways you’ll probably think about for at least a couple of months.

“He’s exactly who you think he is.” You rock back and forth on your feet near the curb, “Disrespectful…” Scholarship, Ransom’s voice sneers, “Selfish…” Who gives a shit? “Manipulative.”

Well look at that… aren’t you just… And the glimmer of those big blue eyes half-crazed with lust and control, drinking in your reflection in the mirror, makes you clench up right there in the parking lot.

“You think he’s a killer?” Blanc asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” You reply, “Depends. He takes what he wants when he wants it… Could care less if he burns the world down with him. You divine the rest.”

Benoit Blanc’s frustrated sigh is all the response you expect him to give. This case with the Thrombeys really has gotten him all twisted up. He wouldn’t have called you for a favor if it didn’t. Of course, when he asked you to check Ransom Drysdale Thrombey out, he’ll be at Carver’s tomorrow around ten, he probably had other scenarios in mind…

“Well,” he mumbles, “Thanks again. These people sure are hell to be around. Give the new Prentisses my best, won’t you?”

You say your goodbyes and tuck your phone back into your pocket, shifting with a wince when the soreness between your legs throbs again. With a sigh into the dark autumn night, you shove your hands inside the center pouch of your hoodie, keeping your head low but still wary enough to find your Uber.

Ransom left you in the restroom about ten minutes ago, sitting on your haunches, still trying to remember how your lungs work. Right before the door shut, he had turned around and gave you one last smirk, pointing right at your top with glee. “How’d I taste, baby?”

Blanc needs to be careful, not that he isn’t— because he always is, as nutty as his brain works, he is. But Ransom is the only Thrombey you’ve met and if there are ten more of them… Blanc would do good to watch his ass and maybe get some extra help.

A jangle disrupts the quiet when you begin to play with what you’ve taken. Jagged metal edges. Heavy iconic insignia laying benignly in your palm before you tug it out.

Idiot. Good dick or not, an idiot is an idiot is an idiot— especially his kind. Didn’t even notice you slipped these right out of his coat pocket. You swing the ring around your flexed pointer in swift, angry circles, keys clanging together before your hand shuts it up.

With a hard wind of your arm back, you fling the set long into the night, satisfied when it lands behind a building some distance away.

Ransom Drysdale, you think, enthusiastic smile growing on your face as your ride pulls around the corner, have fun looking for those tonight.

Dick!

Ransom tags: @mermaidxatxheart @dumbubblegum @sapphirescrolls @gothambrat @southerncross47 @bubblegumpeeeach @fiercephantasmagoria @saliarheva @amberakawolfie

Perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave

#knives out #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #smut #fanfiction #reader insert #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale thrombey #ransom x you #eat the rich heli0s

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 03

(Masterpost)(Previous Episode)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

Wei Wuxian demonstrates the purple nurple technique of the Jiang Clan

Should’ve Used Trivago

The Jiang Clan’s reservation got cancelled while they were on the road, so they are going to wander around this small inn for hours being fussed about it, rather than trying another inn. Yes they say the other inns are all full but…so is this one, now.

The Jin Clan sends an advance party to fancy up the inn for them.

Fuckboi Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian decides to use his considerable powers of prettiness to get them a room. He drops some poetry on Mianmian and brazenly flirts with her before shifting to properly introducing himself and asking for a room.

This actually works.

...until her boss shows up.

(Much much more after the cut!)

Worst Person // Best Jin

Jin ZIxuan is an ass and a snob.

I guess we have to give him credit for having a beautiful sidekick and never hitting on her, given that his dad is a rapist and one of his half-brothers is (reputedly) a sex pest and the other half brother is (definitely) an incest perp. But I feel like it doesn’t take much to be the best Jin of his or his father’s generation.

The Jin folks are snobs and talk about how great their fancy and expensive stuff is. It’s an interesting contrast with true connoisseur Nie Huaisang, who loves everything that is fine and beautiful and can quote stacks of poetry off the top of his head, but is not even a little bit of a snob.

This Tea Smells Like Farts

Ok, let’s talk about generation names in the Jin clan. Ru is the name for Jin Ling’s generation, hence his courtesy name Rulan. The name for the current generation is apparently Zi (子), because both Zixuan and his jerk cousin Zixun have that as their name. Sect Leader Jin Guangshan would seem to be using the generation name Guang, but then names his son Jin Guangyao so…the whole system breaks down.

Anyway, my point here is that even considering generation names, if I had a baby and named it Zixuan, and my sister-in-law promptly had a baby and named it Zixun, I would slap her.

Find you a lover who does not make you feel like this

Jin Zixuan is mildly intrigued by his betrothed, and expresses it by being rude to her in front of Wei Wuxian, starting a chain of events that will culminate with Wen Ning’s fist going all the way through Jin Zixuan’s chest.

Side Note: Look at these young Jiang Brothers and their casual shoulder hugs. Sigh.

Wei Wuxian’s Combat PlayBook

When Wei Wuxian wants to throw down, he starts with smack talk, moves along to boundary crossing, then to direct threats, and then brings out a weapon if he hasn’t won already.

Here he starts shit with Jin Zixuan by complaining at him for taking up too much space and having too many sycophants. Then he goes for the unwelcome shoulder touch.

Having been sufficiently provocative to get someone to draw a sword and threaten him with physical violence, he shifts to formal verbal sparring.

This gets the other guy to back down, because even at this age no-one actually wants to tangle with Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian gets to claim the moral advantage, although he still doesn’t get to keep his hotel room.

Actually Not A Fan of My Sister’s Betrothal

Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli have the first of many, many moments of heterosexual ineptitude together. Wei Wuxian quickly rescues them.

Hi, I’m Young Master Cockblock.

Neither of the boys understands what Yanli sees in Zixuan and neither do I, at this juncture. He does improve later after multiple beatings from Wei Wuxian.

This Is The Day Your Life Will Surely Change

Yanli’s encounter in the Inn is the first step toward the inexorable end of the three of them as a unit, although it’s still a long ways off. They are all growing up and she and Wei Wuxian are both going to fall in love at summer camp, like in a 1980s teen movie but without the virginity betting (presumably).

Meanwhile poor Jiang Cheng is going to be swept along just trying to keep up with events, which becomes the story of his life for the next two decades.

Welcome to Transylvania

We meet Wen Ruohan. He is boring and he sucks. Also I’m summarizing the Transylvania parts out of order because they break up the rhythm of the story. And are boring and suck.

We meet Xue Yang. He seems nice.

Wen Ruohan’s living room is like a shitty nightclub where everyone is too drunk to dance except Xue Yang.

Dee Jay: Undead undead undead, Bela Lugosi’s dead

[OP can’t get a video to embed in this post with looping enabled, so the alternate version of this joke has its own post right here. That will teach OP to get fancy.]

Anyhoo

We meet Wen Qing. She is the bestest most wonderful girl in the world but this isn’t actually when we find that out.

Right now we just find out that she is absurdly pretty, that she loves her brother deeply, and that she is helping Wen Ruohan with his “take over the world by murdering cultivators” project. OKAY, PROBLEMATIC, BUT SHE IS THE BESTEST GIRL OKAY?

Gatekeeping

The Jiang Clan don’t get another inn but they do manage to change into immaculate white robes while they’re out on the street, so - nice work, Jiang Clan. Be free!

They get stuck outside the gate because they don’t know that the secret to getting into Cloud Recesses is to set the gate guard on fire.

Walking Thirst Trap Hanguang-Jun

Lan Wangji shows up and everyone except Yanli, who is already in love with Sir Golden Pants, makes thirst faces at him. Including Jiang Cheng tho he will never admit it. One girl in the background is actually biting her knuckle.

Note: Lan Wangji knows exactly how fine he is. Look at his fucking hairstyle.

He is sixteen years old. The only person in the entire cultivation world with fancier hair is Nie Mingjue, and that’s because he indulges his dìdi’s braiding hobby.

Wei Wuxian loudly stage whispers that LWJ is their key to getting in and LWJ is is like, not fucking likely, person I didn’t glance at yet.

But then Wei Wuxian says a smart cultivator thing about the puppet dude, and Lan Wangji turns around and has the first of many long mutual staring sessions with this boy he totally isn’t going to like at all.

Jiang Cheng has a bad feeling about the future: a 2-frame gif

Unrelated gardening note: the red-crack puppet is more commonly grown in Gusu and Dafan, while the black-line puppet is native to Yiling

I Must Arrange a Date with this Uninteresting Boy

The rest of the evening is a series of tests that Lan Wangji puts Wei Wuxian through. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know this and Lan Wangji probably doesn’t exactly know it either.

First he sends WWX back to town to get the invitation. Yes, go get it. Not your entourage; YOU, talky person who thinks he can manipulate me and is smart and looks...intriguing. Go find it and come back.

When Wei Wuxian complains, Lan Wangji silences him, which is literally the most boss move he could have used on smooth talking Wei Wuxian.

You tried, Fuckboi.

Would you like to try some more because I think I would like you to try some more

Jiang Cheng is the Better Baby Brother

Sorry, he just is. Wei Wuxian is all about being taken care of and adoring Yanli without actually doing much for her. Jiang Cheng is the one who thinks about her feelings and giving her what she needs, even to the point of arranging that wedding rehearsal dinner so she can be with her favorite brother again -- the favorite who isn’t him, much as she also loves him.

Date Test 1: Can You Get In.

Once Wei Wuxian is definitely gone, Lan Wangji shows up again and collects the entire retinue, guaranteeing that Wei Wuxian will be stranded outside the gate when he gets back. LWJ doesn’t wait by the gate; he goes and waits up on the roof instead of going to bed or whatever else he’s supposed to be doing. Because he already knows the route Wei Wuxian will be taking.

Wei Wuxian passes the “get in through the wards” test with no problem besides a minor headache and bent fingers.

Is that Xiao Zhan’s hand or did they use a double-jointed hand model?

Date Test 2: Fight Me (Lan Wangji’s Combat Playbook)

As soon as Wei Wuxian shows up on the roof, Lan Wangji picks a fight with him.

LWJ fights all the time; he’s perfectly comfortable when he’s fighting and it’s a good venue for him to express himself. His style is graceful and aggressive.

Attack attack attack strike a pose, vogue, you know it.

He starts by going all in on swordplay, but that doesn’t gain him the advantage; Wei Wuxian fends him off without ever drawing his sword. Which is probably the hottest thing that has ever happened to Lan Wangji in his young life.

Do you like me better when I’m horizontal?

Next Lan Wangji deploys the pettiness by breaking WWX’s wine. Then when Wei Wuxian starts insulting him he upgrades to next level pettiness by dropping another silence spell, this time with the added bonus of preventing WWX from drinking.

Wei Wuxian’s Combat Playbook, Redux

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian is running his own fight routine, starting with a charm attack, which doesn’t work at all.

Are you admiring the moon?

He keeps trying to de-escalate for the first phase of their fight, until they reach a pause and he reflects that Lan Wangji has real skills. As soon as he makes that determination he goes on the offensive - with words.

He very formally says he’s too busy to continue fighting, and turns away, which is a pretty solid roast when you say it to someone who’s been trying really hard to kick your ass. Then he continues defending easily until Lan Wangji uses the wine against him.

At this point the gloves come off, with Lan Wangji lecturing Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian making ad hominem attacks, Lan Wangji forcibly shutting him up...

...and then throwing him on the floor in front of Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen.

Sincere Grief for the Death of our Colleague

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen feel really bad for their disciple who has been horribly turned into an undead creature. Ha ha j/k

Date Test 3: Face the Authorities

Lan Wangji gets to pick Wei Wuxian’s punishment. This probably won’t awaken anything in him.

Surprise surprise, Wei Wuxian actually passes the Authority test with flying colors. Lan Qiren doesn’t like him, but listens respectfully to his thoughts about the undead cultivator. And Lan Xichen clearly does like him.

When Wei Wuxian learns that Lan Wangji was nice to his sister, his entire demeanor changes, to such an enormous degree that Lan Wangji starts to run away.

He’s not going to let this boy (who has passed all the tests oh no he passed all the tests) make out with him in front of his family like he is obviously planning.

But once again, Wei Wuxian’s cultivation knowledge captures Lan Wangji’s attention and breaks through his reserve.

This Hardy Boys moment is the beginning of their cultivation partnership.

Lan Wangji is brave but is extremely constrained: by the authorities in his life and by his own rigid reserve. Wei Wuxian is brave and is also free. His companionship gives Lan Wangji an opportunity to engage with a much broader range of the things that interest him than he’s ever had before.

After Wei Wuxian has been sent to bed, Lan Wangji stands outside and -- just as WWX had suggested at the beginning of their date/fight -- admires the moon, with an expression that’s anything but upset.

Sure, sex is cool (probably), but have you ever analyzed a walking corpse with a beautiful boy in the moonlight?

If you’ve got your true honey Life can be pretty funny If you've got money, money to burn Rooty toot toot for the moon It's the biggest star I've ever seen

The Fine-as-Hell Brothers

Alone together, Lans Xichen and Wangji talk over the various things on their minds.

Xichen: What the fuck is up with you? ...Rooftop fights and dropping spells on boys?

Wangji: You and uncle were ignoring me so I was making my own fun

Xichen: Yeah, we are dealing with this zombie situation; shit’s going to hit the fan

Wangji: what are you going to do about it?

Xichen: fuck-all

Wangji: Well, you can rely on me

Xichen: I totally do. So how about you get to know this Wei kid, he seems like a fun ride.

Wangji: *death glare*

Xichen: You know, since Dad died you’ve become even more uptight. I wonder if I’ve been too strict with you?

Wangji: Um, you think? 3000 fucking rules, dude. Fortunately I’m not going to go off the rails and fall in love with my polar opposite and cause havoc in the cultivation world or anything like that.

Xichen: good, me neither

Outtro

Writing prompt: Lan Xichen’s secret nightly letter to his Mom’s memory or spirit (your choice), in which he confides in her about his day. May be written in flute solo form.

(As always if you use this prompt feel free to post a link to your fic in comments!)

Soundtrack: 1. This Is The Day by The The 2. Bela Lugosi’s Dead by Bauhaus 3. Rooty Toot Toot for the Moon, Greg Brown version 4. Madonna, Vogue

Bonus: FineAsHell-Jun

Episode 04 Restless Rewatch coming soon!

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bollitosensible · 3 years ago

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Epilogue of Harrow The Ninth [theories]

Okay, I've just finished HtN and have come up with some ideas I'd like to share.

(I don't want to make any spoilers, so please keep reading if you are interested. I would like to know your opinions! 🥺)

Palamades, Camilla and the ending of HtN:

I think it's pretty clear that, by the end of HtN, Palamedes and Camilla have work out their own way of inhabiting the same body. I wouldn't call that lyctorhood, not without knowing the details, given that Camilla is a cavalier, not a necromancer. But we see Palamedes' eyes in Camilla and, taking into account what we know about it, I think we can be sure about Palamedes' soul being on Camilla's body.

"But, hey, are you sure those are Palamedes' eyes?" Let's look at the descriptions displayed on the books.

This is how Gideon describes Palamedes eyes the first time she sees him:

«Up close, he was gaunt and ordinary looking, except for the eyes. His spectacles were set with lenses of spaceflight-grade thickness, and through these his eyes were a perfectly lambent grey: unflecked, unmurked, even and clear. He had the eyes of a very beautiful person, trapped in resting bitch face» (GtN page 130)

And this is how, our unknown person, describes Camilla's eyes at the very end of the epilogue in HtN:

«...and she loved without reserve the eyes — those great lambent eyes, the iris so skilfully and gently blent it seemed there was no tint or shade in that clear and beautiful grey.» (HtN page 507)

I marked in the same way (bold, italics and red) the points in which the descriptions coincide. Camilla's eyes, in contrast, are described like this by Gideon:

«...Camilla's eyes were much darker than her necromancer's: his were clear stone or water, and hers were the unreflective, fathomless colour of overturned Ninth House sod, neither grey nor brown.» (GtN page 131)

In short, I think there are no doubts that this mysterious person is watching the eyes of Palamedes in Camilla, and therefore, is living within her, whatever this means.

The identity of THAT person

Having this clear, I would like to provide some insights on who this person might be. The hints are quite vague, but I think we can assume we are talking about Gideon's body, as the cohort was unable to locate her, and Mercymorn saw her body:

«...When they show me your corpse I didn't think to check the eyes. Stupid, Mercy» (HtN page 409)

This post may also help to reconstruct what happens immediately after GtN. Knowing this, I'm holding the hypothesis that BoE took Gideon's body along with Camilla, Judith and Coronabeth, and that Mercymorn was, at least, supervising part of this operation -which concurs with the fact that she was collaborating with them.

Another thing that points at Gideon is the next scene:

«She and the person who looked after her had used to go to a different haunt, where the food was cheaper and the sausages more juicy —but there the man who fried the food had once said warningly, "It's hot," only to find that she had already stuffed her mouth full of lacy fried things anyway. The man had said, laughing, "Her lips should be burnt off, eh?" But her lips had not been burnt off. It had barely hurt."» (HtN page 506)

As it has been shown multiple times in GtN, not only does Gideon have some incredible high pain threshold; she also guzzles down very hot tea without thinking and stuffs down easily any other hot meal she's given — she even states she has never taken a hot meal before.

With this evidence, I'm quite confident about this body belonging to Gideon. But...whose soul is it?

I've read on some reddit post (can't find it, sorry) that it might be a mixture of Dulcinea's and Harrow's souls, based upon the fact that «she loved without reserve the eyes», and who, if not Dulcinea, would love Palamedes's eyes, even unconsciously. HOWEVER, it's quite impossible, isn't it? We're told, both by Cytherea and Dulcie herself, that they HAVE NEVER MET in person. They just knew each other by letter, so there is no way Dulcinea would recognise the Warden's eyes.

I think this affection might have develop during the time gap. After all, Camilla is the person who looks after her, and presumably, she has been doing this for, at least, six months.

Could it be Gideon? I'm pretty sure Gideon would still be on Harrow's body for the next book. We know she dies, but she also sees the Body (and Alecto, at least that's my take on it) commanding CPR on her.

What about Harrow? Here is where it starts getting a bit...messy. I'm unsure about the location of Harrow at the end of HtN. I'm guessing she's either in a new bubble in the River or she has reached the place Gideon's soul was occupying while Harrow erased her from her memories (would that mean, she as somehow, returned partially to her body?). I'm not into the idea that she has appeared in Gideon's body and now has amnesia. At least, I'm hoping that this isn't it — please, enough of erasing memories.

My fave hypothesis here is that we have been presented Nona The Ninth, whoever she is, and we would —hopefully— get some answers in the next book.

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #tlt spoilers #htn spoilers #gtn spoilers #gideon nav #palamedes sextus #camilla hect #dulcinea septimus #nona the ninth

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castawavy · 3 years ago

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#6 for the early bird main crew??

ooo OKI so ive never talked about their zodiacs outside of character page stuff so imma talk a bit about why I picked their zodiac signs! I am not very good at understanding them irl btw and I don't see it as one character HAS to be a star sign because of xyz so anyone reading dont get mad at me PLS AHAHA but ye LET'S GOOOOOoo

6) what do you think their zodiac sign would be?

aoife: is an aries she was born on April 14 I liked aries for aoife as I read characters with this trait tend to be stubborn, headstrong and impatient (suits her pretty well right?) as well as that they have a secret romantic side to them underneath this which I love!

luna: baby luna is of course... a cancer born on June 22 (enough said) but she's very emotional, loyal and empathatic (when she thinks you deserve it). I liked this for luna because it contrasts with her parents who are very logical, whereas I wanted luna to think with her heart!

finn: finn's born June 6 which makes him a gemini! honestly I wanted him to have a summer birthday as I felt it suited him! the reason I went with gemini is that finn can be a little reserved to show his true feelings towards others! but on the flipside he is very sociable and outgoing (a play on the 'stereotype' that geminis are two faced!)

avery: born on December 12 lands avery in sagittarius land with me! I mainly did this as a fun nod to passion, since he is on an archery team, and sagittarius is the archer centaur sign! it just so happens though that he is brutally honest, and finds trouble committing to things - which I read can be sag traits AHA! so that worked out oops

isaac: he's a virgo born on September 19! isaac's a funny one as I didn't want him to match his stereotypical sign at all!!! virgos are supposed to be very organised, meticulous kind of people but he's just - not (which I find hilarious) so yeah his sign's a red herring!

zach: being born on November 21 makes zach a scorpio! I read that scorpios can be a lil mysterious which I liked for zach but also they're very driven!! in the story zachs basically spent a lot of his life working towards something diligently but it has had yet to pay off!! honestly tho I wanted him to have a winter birthday so this worked!

#ty for the ask sorry I rambled quite a bit!#my sis helped me pick their birthdays btw #and some of them fitted so well that I kept it that way #spooky #raesponses #wirefiish #ask game #early birds extras

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fuwahiko · 4 years ago

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Ok more fluff coming your way because i throw it all on Hajime mans needs a break. Imagine a Non-Despair au where Izuru is a real person and Hajime's twin, they go to Hope's Peak. Izuru in the Main Course and Hajime in the Reserve Course.

Class 77 plan a get-together outside of school because they wanted to...and Chisa said to get together outside of school. Izuru is...not feeling social so he decides to bring Hajime along. He didn't tell anyone he was bringing his brother, but they'll learn when he shows up.

So fast forward to The Hang Out, and all of class 77 are waiting for Izuru. They're not surprised because Izuru is Izuru and he does not like socializing. They're all chatting and laughing at TeruTeru getting his ass chewed out by Mahiru when Izuru comes in and...he's hanging off of someone with short choppy hair and green eyes? Whomst? Izuru doesn't have friends outside of them who beith this man?

"Izuru what the hell, you forgot to tell them about me?!" "...oh, it seems so. Sorry Haji."

So Izuru introduces his brother because he FORGOT to tell his class about Hajime. Everyone's nice to him, even Nagito because he's got a hope boner for Izuru Kamukura aka Ultimate Hope man.

Fuyuhiko goes up and says "hi" because if Peko can try to socialize, so can he. Hajime smiles and says hi back, and that's that. Fuyuhiko goes back to his antisocial wall, and Hajine goes back to being Izuru's emotional support pillar. Literally.

But they're both flushed. Fuyuhiko's eyebrows are furrowed and Hajime's biting his lips. They steal glances at each other when the other isn't looking. Fuyuhiko and Hajime are both thinking, "Oh no cute boy."

And LET THE MUTUAL PINING, TSUNDERE ACTIONS, AND CLASS 77 SHENANIGANS COMMENCE. With wingwoman Peko, insgigator Natsumi on both sides, and Izuru being the overprotective brother that he is.

yessss pining boys!! without having like... the reasons they had in the game to talk to each other, how does one approach a cute boy (tm)? when both you and the cute boy (tm) are so awkward and have such difficulty getting chatting, what do you do?

imagining Peko as a wingwoman is really cute and kinda amusing too because she’s y’know, sort of awkward too and sometimes struggles to keep conversations going and stuff so I imagine there’d probably be some moments where Peko is trying her best to help Fuyuhiko by starting a conversation with Hajime so she can bring Fuyuhiko into it as well but maybe it’s a sort of unusual topic or she doesn’t really give Hajime much to work with so it kinda flops at first and Fuyuhiko’s concerned that it’s not gonna go anywhere, but then Peko ends up saying something that Hajime finds funny (even though there’s a 95% chance that Peko wasn’t intending to be funny) and that allows for the conversation to open up more and become a lot easier.

Hajime and Fuyuhiko end up keeping the conversation going for a few minutes, but they’re both still pretty flustered and they keep getting overwhelmed and distracted (cute boy!! omg!!) so they end up struggling and the conversation dies out again. just then Izuru spots them and comes over again to butt in and latch onto Hajime and Fuyuhiko uses it as an opportunity to head off and escape the awkwardness. Hajime gets irritated with Izuru for scaring Fuyuhiko off but is also honestly a little relieved because he wouldn’t have wanted to make things even more awkward by just letting the silence between them carry on for who knows how long.

the get together ends without them getting the chance to talk any more than that, but even so they both find that they just can’t stop thinking about each other in the days that follow. it’s been several days already but Fuyuhiko still gets distracted in class thinking about how cute Hajime’s big bright smile was and the sound of his laugh, how soft his hair looked, how big his arms were compared to his own. Hajime finds himself sitting on his bed and hugging his pillow to his chest as he thinks about Fuyuhiko’s pretty eyes, his cute freckles, and how surprisingly friendly and sweet he’d been in contrast to his intimidating aura (which Hajime also found very attractive, of course). there’s a lot of covering cheeks with hands, lowering heads to hide soft expressions and a hell of a lot of times where somebody is trying to get Hajime’s or Fuyuhiko’s attention but they might as well be talking to a brick wall because they’re both so distracted by their thoughts that they’re completely lost to the world.

Natsumi notices all of this from both of them and finds it hilarious (and pretty adorable, she has to admit) and even though she does think Hajime is sort of lame she knows her brother is genuinely really into him and... well, he’s not that bad, right? yeah, okay, he’s actually pretty alright... so why not give them both a little shove in the right direction?

problem is, they’re both completely useless.

she makes several attempts at trying to encourage them to do something about all these god damn butterflies and fluffy pink hearts that are practically radiating from them both, but nothing works. she gives up. a few more days pass and... nothing changes. they’re both so god damn annoying. Hajime lets out his 200th dreamy sigh in class (which is a lot less discreet than Hajime thinks it is) and Natsumi almost loses it. she has to do something about this.

the next day she asks Hajime to meet her in a quiet spot just outside of school when classes are over, she tells him she wants to talk about something. Hajime doesn’t really get what the deal is but he figures he’ll just go along with it rather than questioning her and making a fuss.

after school he goes to wait in the spot (Natsumi says she needs to do something else quickly first and tells Hajime to go ahead) but when he gets there... he sees Fuyuhiko is there waiting for him?!

Hajime stops dead in his tracks, freezing up and struggling to even breathe properly, and when Fuyuhiko looks up and realises Hajime is there he tenses up and balls his hands into fists at his sides. they stare at each other for a moment, their cheeks burning up as they process the situation, and then as soon as Fuyuhiko is able to kick his brain into gear again he realises exactly what is going on. he scrunches his face up, still bright red, though Hajime doesn’t notice yet. “god damn it, Natsumi!” his voice is loud, making Hajime jump a little, but it’s also sort of shaky.

“oh uh- I was supposed to meet her here- I-”

Fuyuhiko sighs. “yeah, me too. she did this on purpose. she was trying to get both of us here because she knows that-” he cut himself off, suddenly realising what he was about to say. out loud. to Hajime.

“huh? knows that what?” Hajime couldn’t figure out what Natsumi could possibly want from this that Fuyuhiko would know of. the only reason he could imagine was because she knew about his crush on Fuyuhiko and probably wanted to play some kind of prank, but that couldn’t be it because how would Fuyuhiko know why she’d called him there?

it was then that Hajime noticed that Fuyuhiko was turning away and avoiding eye contact. wait... is he blushing? what would cause him to blush in a situation like this? hang on a second...

slowly Hajime started to piece the situation together... but he must be imagining things, right? there has to be some other explanation. but he couldn’t help but cling onto that little thought, that maybe Fuyuhiko was also interested, even if it was silly to ever think that that could be the case. he wanted to test his theory out without giving himself away, and in the moment the best he could manage was some awkward joke. of course.

“hey... isn’t this kinda like when two characters in a romance anime meet up outside of school to confess or something?”

Fuyuhiko has a small coughing fit. he recovers after a moment and adjusts his tie, finally looking back at Hajime again. “huh?!”

Hajime panics and nervously searches for somewhere else to look so he doesn’t have to meet Fuyuhiko’s intense eyes. “n-nothing! I was just joking around! I uh- I thought it’d uh-” he feels like his cheeks are about to catch fire. he wants to run away but his legs won’t move an inch.

Fuyuhiko lets out a breathy laugh. “you’re so weird.”

Hajime looks up again and is surprised to see Fuyuhiko’s expression is much softer than expected, and though he keeps glancing up at Hajime he’s also struggling and looking around awkwardly as well. suddenly Hajime catches a look in Fuyuhiko’s eyes and they find themselves staring at each other for a moment. Hajime sees that he really wasn’t imagining it; Fuyuhiko’s face is very red right now. he realises that Fuyuhiko has noticed that his face is also red. he must have done. there’s no way he could possibly miss it. oh god.

there’s a long pause.

Fuyuhiko swallows and takes a moment to clear his throat.

“well anyway, since we’re here, do you want to... hang out sometime?”

Hajime’s eyes widen in surprise. he isn’t even able to process the question before Fuyuhiko continues speaking.

“I just mean because you’re my sister’s classmate n’ all I figure we should try to get along and-”

“y-yeah, sure. uh, I’d like that actually.” Hajime doesn’t realise he’s cut Fuyuhiko off until he’s already spoken.

there’s another pause, and then maybe a couple more minutes of them arranging a time and place to meet up in a few days while trying not to lose it and just turn to a big pile of mush out of embarrassment, and then they awkwardly part ways.

as Hajime turns to leave he thinks he hears something rustling in a bush nearby but figures it must be his imagination so he just ignores it and continues on his way.

Natsumi heads back home, a couple of small leaves stuck in her hair, giggling to herself. today would go down as one of the greatest successes of the ultimate little sister.

#kuzuhina #ask #thank you for the ask!!#I didn’t really throw izuru in here that much haha #but I very much enjoy the idea of him being hajime’s twin and being clingy and overprotective #it’s very cute #I didn’t bring the rest of class 77 into it either so woops #my brain can only handle writing about so many characters at once lmao #anyways I loved writing this omg #natsumi is a legend #we love and stan #oh yeah also this one is extra long so #long post #probs good to add that tag lol #dr2 spoilers

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jostepherjoestar · 4 years ago

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An Educational Favour: IV

NOTsfw // FEM! reader & pronouns

warnings/notes: 18+ content, minors dni, it’s Formaggio x reader and Risotto close by, interc0urse, v0yeurism?, taking it slooooow, butt stuff (penetration), discussion of prepping too!, the tension between ris and you is just.. wow

part 1- 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

PART IV: 🧀Formaggio🧀

You slumped down on the beanbag that huffed under your movements, a few kernels that filled the bag twirling as the air pushed them out. Just like the seating you let out a long sigh, pulling the thick sweater sleeves over your hands and sitting on them in annoyance, trying to stop yourself from nervously chewing on your nails. Nothing felt right today, the way the sun barely broke through the clouds causing a dreary mood to settle on home-base, every glance in the mirror making you tug at your appearance, straightening your posture in attempt to look even slightly appealing to your own critical mind. Choosing the bulky sweater and your soft pyjama pants to grace the figure you so condemned today. Not all days are meant to be great but it was a disappointing start since later on you’d made plans to go on another titillating adventure, this time with the easygoing man named Formaggio. You weren’t dreading it but after you spilt your coffee all over the kitchen counter this morning and stubbed your toes on the heavy couch that rested a few meters away from you, glaring at it while sat in the one thing that couldn’t hurt you for now, you weren’t sure if today would even go right.

The entire atmosphere seemed to move against you, like a migrating salmon moving upstream, waiting for a bear to come put you out of your misery. Speaking of bears… Risotto’s large figure waltzed into the room as you huffed out an amused chuckle as you imagined him sinking his claws into your scaly body and tearing at your flesh. Not quite the ravaging you’d asked him for. “Is everything alright there?” His familiar deep voice coaxing you out of the conflicting fantasy to meet his gaze. It seemed that today had also claimed your capo as their unfortunate victim. Thin black coloured metal frames resting on his shapely nose, the one that reminded you so much of Michelangelo’s David, carefully chiseled after much consideration. He reserved his glasses for off days, just like his relaxed outfit of pyjama pants and a black robe, the sparkling image of comfort. “Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Today just feels… off.” Resounding the last word in perfect unison before Risotto chuckled, the sound alone unearthing a pleasant feeling. “Let’s hope Formaggio is in good spirits.” He huffed while taking a seat on the creaky leather couch, groaning a bit as he stretched his arms over the backrest.

“What was that about being in a good mood?” The smooth cadence ringing out into the quiet space of the living room. His words followed by a long stretched out yawn, feet dragging over the wooden floor as if lifting them were an arduous chore. It seemed the universe claimed yet another one into the lazy mood, like it forced all to remain seated or else you’d face its wrath of misfortune. Not that a peaceful day hadn’t been a welcome one, the strain of working jobs could lay heavily on the shoulders of La Squadra Esecuzioni. “Today’s a bit shit, huh?” Groans of approval coming from the two men lounging on the couch. “What are we gonna do about tonight? Cancel?” You spoke up, worried that it just wasn’t the right day and you’d have to reschedule which would mean a longer wait and some shuffling of the roster to make it work out.

“Nah, too much of a bother. Besides, maybe it’ll work out just fine. No one’s home right now anyway.” It was true, it would be a bother and no one was home besides the three of you, all out on their respective assignments. You silently wished them all a more successful day considering the mood. You hummed in agreement as you got up to join them on the leather seats, trying to choose the perfect spot. But between Risotto’s large figure spread out so widely and Formaggio not really bothering to close his legs, there was no more room to speak of. “Hey! What about me?” You whined, tugging at the hem of your soft sweater, not up for a fight. “Got a special seat right here lady.” Formaggio’s smug grin darting between your figure and the space between his groin and the couch. You shot your capo a pleading look, begging him to step in like an annoyed child asking their mother to scold their older sibling.

“Don’t look at me, we’re all adults here.” That little smirk starting to dent his cheek ever so slightly, letting you know there was no ally to be found in your dark eyed colleague. He looked so handsome and refined wearing those frames, different than his usual rugged state that was no less attractive. “As I said… there’s no one home but us.” The grey haired man smothering his words in a heavy helping of salaciousness as he eyed you up again. Sensing the shifting mood, letting a few familiar tingles loose inside of you as you fidgeted, unsure if you should take the bait. “I-I haven’t gotten ready yet, Formaggio. I look like a mess!” Today’s critical mind still gnawing at you, never one to easily back down. You’d been glad your previous partners had received the confident you that was her own proud cheerleader, but today she was on break, leaving you in front of a filled stadium with no remorse. “Pfft. A mess? Jesus, you couldn’t look bad if you tried. I’ll show you just how pretty you are, inside and out.” He gestured you over again, his expression a bit sterner to meet the seriousness of his words. It wasn’t just to make you feel better, he was being truthful. Risotto just admired from his comfortable crook, wishing to chime in on the complements but opting to just let Formaggio do the sweet talking.

You finally take him up on the offer and slid in between his legs, letting his arms slip through your elbows to cradle you into his touch as he pressed his torso closer to your back. Hot breaths tickled your neck, a sensitive shudder moving through you, straight down into your panties. Grabbing onto his hand that locked you into him as he gently moved aside your hair to place wet kisses along your neck. Lazily sucking at your tender skin, making you let out a small moan when another shiver ran through you, earning a chuckle from him. “Are you always this sensitive? Then again, by the sounds I’ve heard coming from you, that might be true.” Feeling his surprisingly soft lips curl into a smile as he continued leaving marks. Remembering just how audible you’ve been with the rest, bringing a blush to your cheeks as your skin heated in reaction. You could feel Risotto’s laser-focus on you, admiring just how cutely you were reacting to the intimate pecks.

As Formaggio made his way to your cheek, planting more wet sloppy kisses wherever he felt like, you felt his grip around you loosen and his hand snaking under your sweater to grope your chest. Toying with your nipple through the fabric of your thin bralette, his pulls and teases only making you more satisfied with the choice of undergarments. Your soft pants were cut off by his lips ghosting over yours, deep hums tickling you as he lingered over them, basking in the barely-there touch. His movements remained at such a leisurely pace, so intoxicating it subdued any feelings of impatience, his actions reflecting his personality; lax and engaging.

His plump lips like a warm hug as he met yours, hand still kneading your breast as a tentative squeeze made you moan into him. Moving in deeper, welcoming him into your awaiting mouth as his curious tongue set the pace to slow and steady. Wet sounds filled the air with the occasional muffled moan. “You’re absolutely beautiful, you know that? The way you so eagerly let go, so ready to get lost. You’ve driven us all quite wild, kitten.” Every word sticking to your flushed cheeks like glue as his sweet voice whispered, getting drunk off of his praise.

“Could you take those off for me sweetheart?” You hummed in reply, he had already been toying at the edge of your soft pyjama bottoms, his head moving back into your neck where he stayed and placed more wet pecks, nibbling at your ear to egg you on. You made quick work of your bottoms, now bare, resting on the leather couch cushions warmed by your combined body heat. “Move up your legs a bit, I’ll treat you so good, darlin’.” You moved back further into him so you could bend your knees and rest your feet on his spread knees. You felt so exposed, cold air contrasting the warmth Formaggio was giving off behind you. Your breasts aching, wanting to feel his touch again as he slid out his hand from under your sweater, his other arm coming around to grasp you like your capo had done so sweetly last time as Ghiaccio pleased you.

Carefully, as if handling a precious work of art, the man let thick fingers slide over your folds, already glistening in your wetness from his sultry work in your neck. His delicateness making your breath hitch and your feet desperately trying to cling onto his knees. “So sensitive, so sweet. You want me to touch you more?” He singsonged so closely into the shell of your ear. He could coax anything out of you if he kept up his alluring pace. As you nodded with a needy moan he slid between them, working a finger aggravatingly slow over your clit. As more mewls escaped while you clung to his thighs, digging into them whenever he rubbed just right, he kept his lazy sucking going, sure he’s left a mark on your neck by now. “Do you want Risotto to touch himself too, just as slowly as us?” He grinned, having heard from Illuso just how much you like that. “Y-yes please.” You stuttered, words having a hard time leaving your lips as he kept up his leisurely movements.

The creaks of the leather let you know Risotto was doing just as asked, your eyes were too busy being pressed shut from Formaggio’s expert circles to check. “We’re gonna take our time today, kitten.” A cheeky nibble at your earlobe as he spoke so tenderly. The memory of the strange energy that made you question today’s success already a forgotten one, what your were up to now was a lot more worthy to stick around your consciousness.

Squelching sounds from how incredibly wet the slow pace made you harmonised so well with the barely audible sound of Risotto’s heavier breathing as he calmly stroked himself. The pace urging both of you to remain patient as heat started to build up steadily. Like water slowly rising, a steady flow being let in to painstakingly reach its limit. Formaggio occasionally dipped into your warm hole, slowly collecting your essence and spreading it over your folds. He worked you all over, giving your entire pussy the attention it deserved. As your breathing got heavier with the rising heat of your orgasm, walls clenching around nothingness, his pace didn’t falter, continuing his skilful rubs over your overly sensitive bud. “Do you want to come?” He purred into your neck, breaths so hot and heavy it made you want to combust. “P-please!” You begged so sweetly, he was already planning on letting you come but that whine sent a jolt straight to his hardening cock, twitching as it rubbed against your behind. “Do you want Risotto to come too?” His mischievous question paired with a quick dip between your aching walls. “Not y-yet.” It was an honest reply, you knew Formaggio wasn’t leaving you after rubbing you so nicely. Your capo will have to stretch his patience even thinner and slow his movements even more. The dark eyed man groaning as he heard your reply, but not of annoyance or denying him his pleasure for a little while more. The way you made him obey orders, even as softly as you gave them, made him only want to please you more. This whole endeavour of observing and letting his teammates have a say in his actions greatly aroused him, but most of all it was the slow build up to the end; having you all to himself.

Formaggio chuckled into your crook, letting you get your wish as he worked you through the rising gratification. The limit had been reached as you breathed out deeply with a loud continuous moan as it overflowed slowly, the peak only dragged out as the grey haired man kept his steady movements going to let you ride it out. Squirming through the ripples, pinching your knees together as you clamped your nails into his thighs to ground yourself from the full body sensation. The pool had stilled, panting as you slowly regained your senses, the feeling of your own wetness dripping onto the couch causing a small smile to appear onto your satisfied face. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to make you come. All those times I heard you, I only wished it was me that was making you feel so good.” A sloppy, wet suck onto your neck that had been lapped so delicately throughout. “Thank you Formaggio.” You sighed, the thought of him stroking himself while the others fucked you such a titillating visual it made your walls clench again. “Oh don’t thank me now, sweetheart. We’re not done yet. I’m gonna go grab something, could you lay down for me?” His voice leading you down as he gently placed your feet back onto the floor.

As he slid out from behind you and left the room, still riding on the high of the thorough orgasm you silently met your capo’s gaze. Stroking his large member ever so slightly, grasping the base firmly while his thumb caressed his sensitive underside. His frames had crept down his nose, his eyes so focused on yours, tethered onto you as you moved closer. The tension so palpable it made your hand tremble as you pushed the bridge of the frames back up his stunning nose. Slowly retracting, clinging onto every bit of self control not to kiss the beautiful specimen in front of you. You hesitated for a second, letting yourself linger in his space before deciding it would be best to move down like Formaggio had asked. It took just as much strength from your capo to restrain his desire, holding back from taking you into his arms. Instead he kept up his increasingly slow strokes, letting his pleasure build.

Formaggio returned, glad to see you’ve positioned yourself like he had asked, head resting near Risotto’s figure while your legs spread out. “I assume you’ve prepped just like I asked, kitten?” The man moved back onto the couch, placing himself between your legs, holding a bottle of clear lube he’d brought with. His gaze so lovingly taking in the blush on your cheeks as you nodded. God you were such a treat, waiting to get ravaged. Somehow, even after literally just making you come, you were a bit embarrassed to admit you prepped yourself to let him play with your ass. “Good girl.” He praised while moving his hands over your legs carefully. “Let’s play first, get you used to it huh?” Moving his bottoms down to meet yours on the floor, his hardened cock just as casual as its owner. Uncut and packing girth as it bobbed while he moved, a small gathering of pre-come beading at the head of his adequate length.

“We’re going to keep going slow, ok? Don’t get too worked up when my dick’s in your pretty mouth.” That warm chuckle making your muscles relax as he moved over you, his member looming over your face as his warm breaths tickled your inner thighs, opening them further. Remembering his words you nipped at his cock, soft lips pecking the tip as your deft finger moved downward to reveal his head. Languid licks like honey dripping on a cold day; slow and at its own volition. His groan of satisfaction so buttery and smooth into your plush skin. Formaggio’s hands massaged your thighs and hips, kneading them in an attempt to relax every muscle before starting his exploit of your tight hole.

There’s a first time for everything, the very reason you had embarked on this exploit. As exciting as the last few times were, nervousness remained at the though of letting Formaggio play with a different hole. He’d asked beforehand if you were comfortable with it, his charms doing the talking, relaxing you and assuring it was alright if you weren’t. But that eager curiosity’s hold on you was ever so strong, bravery pushing you further to accept. The preparations he asked of you were simple: clean thoroughly and try out a finger or two when you’re playing with yourself. And to your surprise it was nowhere as bad as you expected, making you all the more excited to let more experienced hands work away at you.

While it was a struggle to contain your excitement, the relaxed and sloth like aura Formaggio emitted helped you remain calm. Slow, twisting movements over his girth, having received a dollop of the cool gel on your fingers, lewd squelching sounds erupting every time you moved up and down his shaft. You’d suckle on his tip, tongue moving and flicking at the dripping slit, making sure to take all the time in the world while he began rubbing over your hole. The previously chilly lubed fingers heating up considerably, the way you were burning up from the sensation spreading through you. The slick tip of his thick finger gently pressing in while he groaned, mumbling how tight you were under his breath. As he moved his finger deeper it made you stop rubbing him for a second, regaining your breath, trying to relax your muscles so you’d enjoy the sensation.

“That’s it sweetheart. You’re doing good. We’re gonna keep going before I stuff you with my dick.” Your moan vibrating through his hard cock when he pulled out. Only to return with another finger, adding even more of the slick lube. As he moved in you felt your walls contract in pleasure, your core aching for stimulation as Formaggio started pumping in and out to work you open. Moaning louder and louder, the pleasure so different than anything else you’ve experienced. Saliva dripped out of the corner of your mouth, salivating while you took his heavy sack in your mouth to play with them. The way he let out a hiss while you felt them twitch let you know just how much he liked it.

You were getting so worked up by his actions, patience growing ever thinner as you wished for him to fill you up. “Formaggio I need you. Please fuck me.” A whiny beg, so needy. It only made him chuckle, your eagerness so endearing. His teammates weren’t wrong when they said you were such a good girl. “Can’t deny you, now can I?” He grinned while moving over you, placing himself between your legs, admiring the way your pussy was still dripping and awaiting any new form of stimulation. It almost made him feel bad that he would be working your tight little asshole instead. Almost.

His shaft was still thoroughly wet from the way you slobbered all over him, mixed with the generous dollop of lube he’d provided you with. His spongy tip prodding at the tight muscle, shushing you and kneading your hips to let you relax. As he slowly entered, letting you engulf his tip he waited, hissing and groaning at the feeling of your walls constricting him. “Fuck, you are so damn tight!” Letting himself gently work further into you, the feeling of his thick cock so delicious inside you while you whined. He finally let his hand that guided his thickness inside of you go, letting his hips set a gradual pace. Those skilful fingers now moving back to rub soft circles on your aching clit, the return so welcome as you moaned loudly at the simultaneous stimulation. Back arching off the couch as you felt your pleasure earn footing again, building slowly just like before. “Risotto… Speed up.”

Your command a welcome one to your throbbing capo, his length now a dark red from the prolonged stimulation, questioning if there was any blood left in his body that hadn’t rushed to his cock. As if a conductor urging their orchestra, harmonising moans and groans filled the room, your capo finally letting himself get comfortable with being a little more noisy. Formaggio felt his own pace falter, speeding up to chase his release as his circles on your clit grew faster and tighter. Moving in tandem with his thrusts inside your strained hole, he felt you clench, milking him, bringing him just at his limit before he pulled out. He continued at a fervent pace over your bud, his other hand stroking his shaft as thick ropes of pearly cum landed on your stomach after he moved up your sweater. His buttery voice so beautifully hoarse now when his breath hitches during his orgasm. Just as he did, your own followed, the familiar waves of pleasure careening through you, pressing your eyes shut, letting yourself get back down from the peak.

Not even needing a command, Risotto came too. A groan so sweet and deep, his body tensing up and twitching at his long awaited peak. Thick strokes of cum landed in your hair, the man behind you not expecting the orgasm to hit so hard. “Shit!” It only made you giggle at the feeling, knowing you’d end up in the shower anyway. You set yourself back straight on the cushions, blush still covering your cheeks and chest, the sweater getting too hot and constricting. Taking it off along with your bralette, sighing at the satisfaction of the newfound experience. “Was that any good?” Formaggio huffed as he tiredly slid down next to you, a gentle hand squeezing your thigh. “More than good Maggi. You’re really good with your hands.” Chuckling at the way his ministrations made bliss flood all over your body. “Why don’t you tidy up here. I’ll get her cleaned up.” Risotto’s voice surprised you, when he remained so still in his corner, breaths so soft you barely heard them; it was like he’d merged with the couch itself. “Yea sure, whatever you say.” Formaggio looked about ready to pass out, eyes drooping as he slid deeper into the couch, all tuckered out from his work.

It felt nice to have Risotto be so adamant on taking care of you afterwards. A ritual he didn’t want to let another indulge in. Even last time, after the cuddle session that followed Ghiaccio’s meeting, he insisted on helping you get cleaned. Not that his face would let it show, but he felt dejected when you replied you’d take a shower yourself, any more stimulation to your skin setting it aflame after the rough get-together.

Just like before he ran a bath for you, letting the soft bubbles grow bigger. He looked so adorable now, those glasses really suited him, offering a softer balance to his features. “You look very cute in those Risotto, you should wear them more often.” You chuckled while staring up at him from the warm tub. He had stayed and rested on the side, having taken off his robe so he could dabble his arm in the water. He looked a little too deep in thought, staring at the ripples his movements created through the foam. “Do you want to get in?” Your cute smile and that bright twinkle in your eyes so alluring, like a siren in his very own residence. He had been thinking about it, wanting to hug you close while you gently got each other all washed up. “No, it’s ok. Later. Take your time.” His deep sigh making you question if that’s what he actually wanted. You willed yourself not to get too caught up, not to assume what he’d been thinking.

For now you’d just try and relax, soaking up the heat from the relaxing bath and checking off another wish. Your memory book starting to get quite full of experience thanks to your teammates. The last three candidates left offering the final challenges. A devious grin at the thought of the final champions.

#woof risotto and reader are really building shit up huh #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #formaggio x reader #risotto x reader #jjba smut #la squadra #jjba fic #jjba x y/n #jjba imagines #not sfw #minors dni #jojo's bizarre adventure #risotto nero #formaggio

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standingonborderline · 4 years ago

Text

We have philosophy and theft

rating: teen and up audiences

shipps: janus + patton (moceit)

word count: ~12.2k

summary: Soulmates share the same birthday. That is a fact. The hard part is finding the one who really is your match among so many others. Patton has never met anyone who has the same birthday as him, and when Virgil mentions that he knows someone, Patton insists that he set up a date. Except that things take a turn and crimes are commited.

warnings: there is a scene where a dog is locked inside a hot car but he turns out fine ok, i promise

author’s note: this is a general content submission for @moceit-appreciation-week . i originally wrote this in my native language, brazillian portuguese (that if you happen to know you can read it here) and then i translated it and made some adaptations, so... i don’t know, just keep that in mind

[Read it on AO3]

"When is your birthday again?'' Virgil asked calmly, raising his gaze from the computer screen before him. He was sloppy sitting on the padded bench near the cafeteria wall. Above him, hanging on a brick wall, was a huge blackboard displaying a weekly menu written in chalk.

"On the first day." Patton answered, leaning over the square table positioned between him and his friend. He placed his head in one hand, holding the cappuccino glass with the other near him.

"May?''

''Yeah.''

Virgil turned to the computer screen, and Patton could hear the press of keys amid the buzz of the other customers.

"Why is that?''

"So I can write it down." He clarified, and in front of him, there was a huge monthly calendar filled with all the things he needed to do and what was the deadline to accomplish them. Virgil struggled to keep his life organized as much as possible. He was also ignoring the fact that the day was April 13, which meant that the month had begun two weeks ago. The small floating arrow sailed to the bottom of the screen, and he selected the day in question, marked with a letter ''S'' above it. "It's on a Saturday.''

Patton sighed, staring at the marks of deterioration on the wooden table on which they were.

''Yes, it is.''

Virgil turned to him again, raising his head and watching him beneath the purple locks of hair. He stretched his fingers above the keyboard, causing the black nail polish to camouflage between the keys.

"What?"

''I'm going to be twenty-nine, and I haven't met my soulmate yet!" Patton was pitiful. He opened his arms cautiously on the table, lying on it and avoiding reaching the glass that was near him and his friend's computer.

Virgil sighed briefly. Every year the same thing happened, and by that time, he already had a mental list of arguments to offer Patton.

"Well... You know... sometimes people have to try more than once." He shrugged. "Everyone thinks that as soon as they meet someone who has a birthday on the same day they will be perfect. It's a great way to delude yourself. Like it's fate or something." He smiled ironically.

''Yes, I know, but I've never MET anyone who has a birthday on the same day as me!'' Patton stretched both hands, next to Virgil's computer, leaning his chin on the table. ''It's complicated.''

Virgil rolled his eyes and lowered the notebook screen, watching Patton and his honey-colored curls. He knew this was something that bothered Patton, though he couldn't say the same about himself. His expression turned into a grimace, and he lifted the computer screen again, placing it between him and Patton so that it would prevent eye contact.

"I may... know someone who has a birthday on the same day as you."

''What?" Patton rose from the surface immediately, unable to see Virgil's face due to the grayish plaque in front of him. ''Virgil?"

''Um?''

''Who is it?'' He rose from the seat, leaning part of his body over the table, and positioning his face above the screen. He pressed his fingertips next to the camera of the device.

"Who's what?'' Virgil asked, staring at the calendar to avoid Patton's supplicant gaze.

"The person you know who has a birthday on the same day as me.'' Patton clarified, and fought against his instincts that resembled that of a feline wanting attention: were it not for Virgil's fingers on the keyboard, he would have already closed the computer that created an obstacle between them. "I'm down for anyone. You know that."

''Yes, I know, it's not that, it's... is that... You know what, never mind, you're not going to like him." He spoke, denying with his head.

"No, I want to know!" Patton insisted. "Please?"

''Oh, it's just... he's kind of...'' Virgil began, seeking a justification, and finally looked at Patton, who kept all his concentration on him. I don't know, I don't trust him.''

"Why not?" Patton frowned delicately.

''I don't know. It's just... a feeling, I guess.''

''Okay... what do you know about him?"

''That he is a lawyer and that his name is Janus."

''Oh, cool!'' Patton leaned his head on the back of his hands, above the computer monitor. "What else?"

''That's all, actually."

''That's all?''

''Yeah. I told you, I don't trust him. Besides, I think he hides stuff.''

''What kind of stuff?''

Virgil grumbled, gesturing vaguely, and tried:

"About himself?''

Patton contemplated briefly and then shrugged.

"Maybe he's only reserved. Like you.''

Virgil made a face and returned his concentration to the computer.

"So... Are you going to give me his number?"

''Patton... "

''Please?" He smiled, and quickly added, "I'm the one who has to like him, not you. Pretty please?''

Virgil and Patton stared at each other and Virgil remembered why he wanted to avoid eye contact. No one could say no to Patton with bright brown eyes and wavy hair as adorable as a puppy asking for your food. Finally, he gave in.

"Ugh, all right. I'll talk to him. I'll see what I can do.''

''Yay!" Patton clapped his hands. "Thank you!''

''Of course. Whatever.''

With the online calendar still open in front of him, Virgil added a note to remember talking to Janus about the situation.

Outside the Museum of the Classical Age was a large, wide staircase made of whitish marble. At both ends, above the steps, were the handrails leading to the museum's small entrance platform. In the center of it, a third handrail was installed, standing out due to its contrast in relation to the rest of the façade. It had a smaller thickness, being made of iron in black color, and was used much more often by visitors of the daily.

Patton used the first of the steps as a seat, next to the entrance door and next to the left handrail. The shadow of the architecture spread to the pavement ahead, partially taking the path to the staircase and the outdoor parking lot, distributed on the sides of the entrance. The sun shone fervently, but that did not prevent the low temperature or the icy breeze that accompanied it. People would come in and leave the establishment, and Patton was waiting for a face that wasn't familiar to him. The high sound of a tire caught his eye, and he — like other visitors outside — turned to the right, in time to watch the driver of a red pickup truck suddenly stop, too close to a man crossing the parking lot. Immediately, the driver threw several offensive words at the man, who stopped where he was and stared at him for a moment, before walking again and heading to the museum's staircases. With this, the focus of the others also dispersed. Patton followed the man with his gaze as he approached and climbed the steps quickly. The print on his clothing became a blur, being possible to identify only the figure of two wavy things crossed one over the other. He went into the museum, while the driver had been lost sight of, and the situation that had barely begun had already been finished.

Patton waited a few more seconds, preventing his thoughts from focusing on the movement outside that dramatically diminished, and on how no one had addressed him. Hearing a delicate tinkling, he exuded, picking up the cell phone that had the screen facing down in his lap.

''date janus!!'' it read as the contact name at the top of the screen. It was from two minutes ago, at 11:12 am.

''I'm here'', one of the messages said.

''I believe in a section just about the coliseum,'' said another message then.

Below these two, there was an attached photo that appeared to have been taken at a certain distance. It showed the end of a corridor that contained a passage to another room ahead, wider. The walls were of a clear beige tone, and instead of works referring to the time, they were decorated with documents extended and protected by glass. On the sides of the entrance to the next room were two chandeliers, each lifting a small transparent lamp. And among them... there was a woman who spoke and over-gesticulated, actions easy to detect due to the smudges that her face and arms had become. In front of her and with her back to the camera, was a group of teenage students, occupying fully the entrance. On the right, near one of the chandeliers, was a second woman who was also partially with her back to the camera.

Patton stretched his legs, rising from the smooth marble surface and turned around. With a few steps, he walked through the huge double door that was completely extended to the inside, as if with open arms awaiting the visitors.

To the left of the lobby was a large circular reception. From where he was, Patton could see at least three different employees serving people. He thought about joining them and the small line that formed — which he would do on other occasions — but this would probably take several minutes. He analyzed the rest of the environment, the gaze floating over other individuals who walked around the room, the most distant velvety benches leaning against the wall, the huge staircase that stood both to the left and to the right, by the large arches that indicated the entrance to other corridors near where he was. Uncertain, he crossed the room toward the corridor on the right, and came across the same beige walls with chandeliers and the class of students who occupied the passage. However, there did not seem to be anyone else present besides those who were previously in the photo. Patton glanced at his cell phone, which remained with the same three messages, and turned distractedly to look around.

"Boo!" In front of him, a man arose, leaning toward him.

Patton jumped back, giving a sharp scream and taking both hands to his chest reflexively.

The man laughed, and Patton did the same, embarrassed.

''I'm sorry." He said by mere formality, in a drawn tone of voice.

''Of course." Patton sighed, relaxing his shoulders and straightening his jacket with one hand, while the other held the phone. He laughed one more time. "Very... sneaky, aren't you?''

''Yes.'' The man agreed, and he analyzed the boy in front of him from head to toe.

The first thing to be noted in Patton was the huge colored jacket he wore. The colors of the piece alternated between red, blue, green and yellow, and its fabric was soft and comfortable, preventing the wind from passing through it. Underneath it, he wore a white shirt that contained two bottoms above the right side of the collarbone, both of which were composed of colored stripes. One of them had a pink stripe followed by a yellow and a blue one. The other, a little further down, had a black stripe followed by a gray, a white and a purple one. The shirt bar was placed inside the high-waisted style jeans, in a shade of grayish blue. He wore yellow all-star sneakers that covered his ankles, but even so, the man was almost certain that he wore different socks. One of Patton's hands still held one side of the jacket tightly, and he noticed his nails painted in different colors: dark blue, light blue, purple, and black. The hand that held the phone was partially hidden for him, so that it was only possible to see the fingernail of the thumb painted red.

He had brown eyes, protected by the glass and aluminum skeleton that was his rounded glasses and long eyelashes. Beside the nose, the upper part of the cheeks was decorated with small brown dots scattered horizontally. His skin was clear, his lips pink, and on his face fell wavy locks in a shade of faded brown. Apparently, the numerous decorative fruit hair clips were not enough to contain them in place.

The man blinked repeatedly, his face inexpressible. Patton seemed to have come straight from a children's show in which he was the host and had chosen his own costume, resulting, surprisingly, in a beautiful outfit being worn by an even more beautiful person. Lovely, perhaps, was the most appropriate word. ''Cute'' would also work.

But instead of saying any of these things, he remained silent, until finally asking:

"It's Patton, right?"

''Oh... Yes, it is." Patton gulped and held out his hand to him, looking at the other man before him.

His skin was clear, but not as much as his. This was obvious when one noticed the spots on the right side of his face, whose tone was closer to pink than beige. Above them, his hair was partially shaved on the side, and the dark brown locks were reserving on the left side, long enough to reach the length of the cheeks. At the height of the neck, it was possible to see the white collar of a shirt, hidden by the black sweater he wore on top. His hands were involved by the pockets of black pants with pleats, and he wore brown combat boots.

"Janus." He said, shaking Patton's hand and revealing the yellow glove he used.

Patton alternated glances between the three things that most intrigued him in the person in front of him: the eyes, the stains on his face and the gloves. Before he could decide which one to ask first, another detail stood out for looking familiar to him, and he meticulously observed the pattern of two dark green snakes crossing one over the other in Janus' sweater.

"Hey, weren't you in the parking lot earlier?"

''What?" He asked, slightly confused, before remembering. "Oh, yes, I was. I love the experience of almost getting hit first thing in the morning." He mocked, and Patton noticed it was the same lazy tone of voice he had used to apologize moments before.

"Yeah... there are people who get very angry in traffic anyway." Patton changed the subject and stood beside Janus, only to discover that he was reasonably short compared to the other man. In front of them, the student class was gone. ''Shall we?''

That said, the two walked down the rest of the corridor and entered the next room.

By the next thirty minutes, Patton had already made two puns about them being in a museum.

He maybe got confused during a third attempt that resulted in comparing Janus to a work of art. Maybe.

Either way, Janus tried his best to hide his laughter and apparent redness on his face. He failed miserably in both.

Janus had the impression that Patton was looking too much at him, specifically at his face. He decided to clarify that the spots on the right side were the main symptom of a skin disease called vitiligo.

Patton said he had freckles on his face, though this was evident.

Janus mentioned having a pet snake named Ophelia. Patton assumed he was joking. Two factors made him realize that he was not: Janus' expression and tone of voice remained the same throughout the conversation, and Patton's suspicion that he had a forked tongue.

Not that he was looking at Janus' mouth or anything.

Patton was a high school philosophy teacher.

He liked plants. He talked about the collection of succulents that stood on the window sill of his room, and their names: Angela, Ashley, Audrey, Alice, Amelia, Aurora, and a few others. The latter was in reference to the Disney princess.

Janus was pretty sure he'd mentioned an Ariel too.

Janus liked the Marvel movies.

Patton preferred DC movies. His favorite was Shazam.

They talked about how Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne were alike.

Patton told about how his students appeared with the so-called new ''memes'' every week, and that he didn't quite understand how they worked. This did not prevent him from using them the wrong way through his attempts. Sometimes these same students spent most of their class with their heads down, and Patton knew they were having a bad day. So he didn't bother them.

Janus told of the questionable things his colleagues in the legal field did. Among them, having love affairs with clients who were in divorce proceedings, and obtaining evidence by illegal means. He wouldn't admit it, but it was fun to be able to tell these things to someone who wasn't part of the business —and who therefore couldn't use them against someone he knew. Patton seemed shocked by the reports, but also interested.

An hour and a half later, the number of people visiting the historic facility decreased considerably as most went out to eat.

Patton stopped in the lobby, away from the doors. He had taken off his colorful jacket and now held it over his forearms, gathered near his body. He turned to Janus, not far from him. "There's a diner down the street." He remarked, drawing the attention of the other young man who looked up at him. "Do you want to go eat? We can get there by foot.''

''Yes." He said without thinking. But who could say no to Patton? Patton who had his nails painted in different colors, Patton who had chosen an outfit that seemed to have come out of an eighties themed movie, Patton who had named his plants, Patton who laughed at the very puns he made at any opportunity, Patton who cared for the wellbeing of his students, although it was not his responsibility. Patton.

He was so sweet. So lovely. Optimistic. Polite. That wouldn't work. Janus had to make something about that. He just didn't know what yet.

They went down the street, heading for the establishment. The silver clouds hid the sun, and the winds remained sharp enough to cause chills. They walked side by side, most of the time in silence, and Patton pointed to some birds that were landed on the electric wire across the street. They arrived at the site and outside the gravel floor formed an outdoor parking lot, similar to what the museum also had. Further away from the entrance, Janus noticed a red pickup truck, too much like the one he had seen earlier when he arrived at the museum. Ahead of him, Patton entered and held the door for him, and the two took slow steps as they entered the venue, searching for an empty table amid the crowd of customers. Quietly, they went to the service desk to place their orders, infiltrating amid the lines that were mixing due to being side by side. Patton raised his arm to fix the sleeve of his shirt, but in doing so, he accidentally hit someone next to him who was coming in the opposite direction.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" He spoke immediately, gathering his arm close to him and placing his hand on his opposite shoulder.

''Yeah, yeah, whatever." The man in the plaid shirt grumbled. Getting as close as he could to the service desk, he sneaked through the thick line. Still, he wasn't far from the couple. "Lady! Hey, lady!''

Patton took a step to the left, approaching Janus who now stared at the intruder with his eyes half-closed.

The man began to call out for the attendant at the counter a little further from him, saying something about having received the wrong order. The attendant politely asked him to go to the end of the line, but the same could not be said of the other people around who were waiting to place their orders. Unidentified voices were startled in the buzz, complaining about the man and also asking — demanding — that he go to the end of the line. The man ignored the claims, insisting that he was paying for an order he had not made, while the attendant reiterated that they had delivered exactly what he had requested. Janus and Patton watched the situation unfold attentively.

Looking at the man, Janus recognized him as the same one he had seen earlier, the same driver of the truck who had almost run him over in the morning. And with that, he had an idea.

"I can make a new order for you. " He volunteered, and the man finally turned to him, analyzing him from head to toe.

"Aren't you that guy who was at the museum?''

Janus blinked repeatedly, giving a fake smile.

"I was... Oh, my God, you were the guy in the pickup truck, weren't you? I'm so sorry, I wasn't seeing where I was going!" He explained, taking one hand to his chest dramatically.

Patton looked at the two, confused, but paying more attention to janus' tone of voice, which had suddenly changed. It was completely different from the dragged tone he had used during the time they were in the museum, as if he were an actor playing a role.

"Yeah... you should pay more attention anyway."

''Oh, I will for sure, sir...?'' Janus asked, offering his hand to him.

''John." He greeted.

"Is that short for Jonathan?''

''No. Just John. And you're...?"

''Oh... I'm...'' Janus kept his forced smile, and looked away. Through the big window in the back, on the other side of the room, you could see the street outside. A large bus stopped at a traffic light, the ad on the side displaying Louis Vuitton's new fall-winter collection. Quickly, he added: ''Louis."

''Um. " John made a grimace and examined him again. ''Such a cocky name, huh?''

Janus' smile was slowly becoming terrifying.

"What's wrong with your order?" He asked, changing the subject, and felt Patton gently pulling the sleeve of his sweater.

"I had ordered a large burger and a medium Coke, and they gave me the opposite.'' John offered the receipt to Janus, who checked it superficially.

''Do you know what? I'll make this order for you again, and then it's all settled. You don't have to pay anything else.

"Um. Alright." John agreed with the same angry expression that Janus had seen all day, and walked away, ending the conflict in line.

Janus watched as he disappeared into the crowd, and his fake smile turned into an expression of repulsion. He disguised it before turning to Patton, who called him:

"What are you doing?" He had furrowed eyebrows, looking between Janus and the path John had taken before he disappeared. "Your name's not Louis."

''Well... Maybe he's just having a bad day." Janus shrugged, turning his eyes. "Maybe he just needs... a good deed.''

Patton made a grimace, uncomfortable, and the two moved forward as the line progressed.

"I didn't like him. He almost ran you over."

''Pff, don't worry.'' Janus guided, gesticulating vaguely. "We're not going to be in his company for long anyway.''

Arriving at the service desk, Janus only made John's order. Patton barely paid attention to his, ordering quickly. Leaving the line with the orders, the two met the man at a table. Janus and Patton sat side by side, while John stood at the opposite end. When he began to eat, his manners towards the two changed, and he magically became more polite. He began to chatter, for the most part, complaining about his work that neither Patton nor Janus had paid enough attention to know what it was. Janus stayed as far away from the table as possible, strategically holding one of the menus raised in front of him. Patton ate only half of his order, looking out the window most of the time. About half an hour passed with Janus presenting a friendly personality.

"Well, the chat is fine, but if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.'' John informed as he rested his hands on the table and stood up.

"Oh, is it?" Janus looked up at him, as did Patton. "Don't you want to leave your stuff here? I'll take care of it.''

John frowned and looked at Janus and Patton.

"My stuff?''

"Yes," Janus shrugged. "It's going to be quick anyways.''

John hesitated, but gave in. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he left his wallet, cell phone and car keys on the table. Janus glanced at the belongings.

"Five minutes." John said, moving away from the table.

"Five minutes." Janus echoed, following him with his gaze.

John went to the back of the diner and walked through a door, disappearing from view.

Janus turned to the table and, with one hand, took the cell phone and keys. With the other one, he held Patton's.

''Let's go.'' Janus stood up quickly from the table, taking with him a Patton who intertwined his own legs due to the rush.

"What?! Where?!

''Let's go!'' Janus insisted as they passed through the cafeteria's front door, practically running.

They crossed part of the parking lot until they stopped near a red pickup truck. Up close, it was brighter, cleaner. Janus placed the keys into the lock and turned them, unlocking the car with a muffled sound. He opened the door and walked in, and Patton, on the passenger side, did the same without thinking. With the two inside the car and with their respective doors closed, Janus put the key in the ignition and turned on the car, immediately backing up and leaving the cafeteria parking lot. In a matter of seconds, the establishment was left behind.

The road followed mostly straight, with both Janus and Patton silent. As they stopped at a traffic light, Janus turned to Patton, who analyzed the inside of the car. He could practically see the gears spinning on his head as he absorbed what had just happened. Janus put on his seat belt, and they started walking again. Patton blinked repeatedly, lowering his head.

''Janus?'

''Um?''

''Did you stole a car?'' Patton asked slowly, turning to the man next to him.

''Huh... it's not stealing, actually. Robbery committed without violence is theft.'' He glanced at Patton, and he looked both angry and confused.

''This is no time for word games!'' Patton protested, and fixed his glasses in place. ''Stealing is a crime!''

Janus rolled his eyes.

''Yes, I know.''

''Then why did you do it?''

''Why not do it?'' Janus asked, smiling.

Patton stammered.

''Because it's wrong!''

''Well, 'John' kinda deserved it.'' He sneered, throwing the man's cell phone on the dashboard in front of Patton.

''What? No!''

''We both saw how he almost ran me over. Honestly, we are doing society a favor by taking this car away from him. Who knows who else he might hit?''

''No! This isn't - we shouldn't - he - you can't just go around stealing people's stuff!''

''I just did.'' Janus shrugged, and glared at Patton. ''Put on your seat belt.''

Patton huffed and did as requested, frustrated. He wanted to protest, to get out of the car. But of the many thoughts swirling around in his mind, none of them could turn into a coherent verbal sentence. And the car was moving, and he had just put on his seat belt. Janus' reassurance that he had just committed a crime did not improve the feeling he had of anger and shock. Janus smiled, opening the window on his side, realizing how his plan to push Patton away was working. Patton crossed his arms, turning his attention to his window.

''I don't like this.'' He grumbled, and Janus didn't answer.

A few minutes passed, and they continued their journey in silence, as Janus pondered where they were going now.

Slowly, Patton turned to the center of the car and took a closer look. Next to the steering wheel was a small glass display accompanied by several buttons and a few square holes below. He blinked repeatedly, bringing his hand to one of the round buttons. He carefully turned it and a low noise sounded.

''There's a radio.'' He pointed distractedly.

Janus alternated glances between the road and Patton who was playing with the buttons on the device. Patton turned one of them, and a man began to talk about how the city government used the money it received from the citizens. He turned the same knob one more time. A female voice sang a song that, from the instruments, seemed to be from the 1950s. He switched to another button, and a host announced that the guest about to give an interview was a female singer he had never heard of. He did this with the other three buttons, until the stations ended and the radio returned to its initial silence. Patton held up a long white cable that was plugged into one of the radio's inputs near the buttons. It had electrical tape on the end that was loose. Patton leaned back in his seat again, holding the cable close to him.

''I wonder if it's supposed to connect to the cell phone.''

''You can try it if you like.'' Janus said, not caring much.

With some difficulty Patton took his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans and plugged in the long cable. Immediately, the small squared-shaped radio display showed the words "music library". Patton glided his fingers across the screen, searching for something. He gently touched the surface with his index finger, and seconds later the sounds of a drum and a guitar began to sound from the radio. Janus frowned as another guitar solo followed and a man began to sing.

Life's like the road that you travel on,

when there's one day here and the next day gone

Sometimes you bend and sometimes you stand

sometimes you turn your back to the wind

He looked at the radio display, which named the song as 'Life is a Highway' by Rascal Flatts. Next to him, Patton began to do what he deduced was a dance from the unusual movements. A few more seconds passed, and more and more of the music seemed familiar, until Janus ventured to ask:

''Isn't that the music from Cars? The Disney movie?''

''Yes, it is!''

''Oh, my goodness.'' Janus rolled his eyes and then turned his attention back to the road.

''Do you like it?'' Patton asked, smiling broadly and leaning back in his seat.

''Not exactly. But it doesn't bother me either.''

''It's pretty good!'' Patton said, doing random dance steps, as far as his belt would allow.

Janus sighed, choosing to let Patton have some fun.

The song ended, and before it could start again, Patton picked up his cell phone and selected a different one. It started with a soft piano and a female voice singing, until the rhythm changed drastically, becoming more agile.

''What is that?''

''Holding Out For a Hero!'' Patton replied, smiling.

''But that's not Bonnie Tyler's voice.'' Janus pointed out.

''Oh, no, it's Shrek's version.'' Patton explained, looking at his cell phone and at Janus.

''Oh...''

Patton watched Janus as he exhibited no reaction to the music. Instead, he kept his attention on the cars passing in front of him, trying to join them. When the song ended, Patton selected a different song. And another. And another. And another. And in none of them did Janus show any interest. Nor did Janus mention the fact that they were all part of the soundtrack, themes, or created specifically for film or television animation work. At one point, Patton sank down on the bench he was on, his knees pressed against each other.

''What kind of music do you like?'' He asked, brushing a strand of hair out of his face and with anticipation, since it was a topic that had not been discussed during their date at the museum.

Janus turned towards him and watched Patton with his cell phone on one leg, still connected to the car radio.

''Oh, you're not going to like it.''

''Oh, c'mon, I wanna know!'' Patton insisted, and bowing his head he muttered: ''I didn't like that you stole a car either, but we're here.''

Janus sighed, and as they approached a traffic light, he held out his hand toward Patton, who handed him his cell phone. He tapped the screen a few times, and without saying anything, handed the phone back to Patton as the melody started to play and the car started moving again.

The music started with a piano and violin, and soon a woman's voice began to sound, singing lazily. Patton glanced at the radio display, which read "Black Hole Sun" by Haley Reinhart. The drive went on, with the music being the only noise between them, and Patton turned his attention to the man next to him.

The sun swayed distantly behind him as they passed different buildings and residences. The open window gave way to a strong breeze, which made the long strands of his brown hair frame his well-defined face. He kept only one hand wrapped tightly around the black leather steering wheel, while his left elbow rested above the window sill and the white sleeves of his shirt swung gently in the wind. The elastic band ran across his chest, sinking down and camouflaging itself to the black sweater, cutting through the snake print. He had a look of serenity, fixed on the road ahead. He was not bothered by the fact that he had stolen a car, Patton noticed. Not only that, but he was confident. And that was enough to create a charm. Patton mentally listed the things he knew Janus was, for sure, by now. Lawyer. Thief. Charming. He smiled softly, and Janus turned to him, somewhat embarrassed to catch Patton studying him.

''What?'' he asked, frowning.

''You have one eye of each color.'' Patton pointed calmly.

He really did. Patton had already noticed that Janus had different eyes when they were at the museum, but he couldn't say specifically how. Now he had found out: one of them was brown, while the other was green.

''Oh... yes, I do.'' Janus touched his hair, making a failed attempt to get it out of his face. ''It's called heterochromia. It's the only hetero thing about me.''

Patton's smile widened twice as much, and he leaned toward Janus.

''You made a pun.'' he said, holding back his happiness.

''What? No, I didn't.'' Janus staggered, alternating his attention between the road and Patton beside him.

''Yes, you did.''

''No, I didn't.''

''Yes, you did!'' Patton started to laugh, grabbing Janus' arm with both hands and squeezing gently.

Oh, no, Janus thought, watching Patton with wide eyes. He had made a mistake.

Patton kept laughing for the next five minutes, and slowly calmed down. When he stopped completely, he was leaning against the window beside him, which remained closed. He sniffled, taking a deep breath as he pulled himself together and some random song played at a low volume on the radio. There was a brief silence. Suddenly something caught both boys' attention: from the cell phone lying on the dashboard of the car, which previously belonged to John, came an alarm. Except that it was no ordinary alarm clock alarm, whose purpose was to wake people up, but the sound was more like radar. Patton reached out and grabbed the device, and with it closer, the two of them could see the blinking red dot in the center of the screen. Around it, circular waves were forming, and at the top of the screen, there was the phrase ''Find my phone''.

''Oh my God! Oh my God, it's tracking us! Now what?'' Patton asked, looking around frantically for a solution.

''Give it to me.'' Janus asked, switching hands on the steering wheel and extending one of them to Patton. He handed him the cell phone and Janus glanced at the screen.

''Dammit. I thought it would take him longer to do something about it.'' He spoke before tossing the device out the open window without hesitation.

In shock, Patton looked at Janus and the outside of the car, which had turned into a straight deserted road. He gulped.

''You threw the phone out of the window.''

''I did. Problem solved.'' He smiled sarcastically, looking at Patton. Patton sighed and leaned back in his seat.

''Right.''

The drive went on without any major problems.

About fifteen minutes later, Patton turned to Janus after spending most of the time looking out the window.

''Are we going somewhere?''

Janus stammered, being taken aback.

''Why?''

''Because... there is a mall nearby.'' Patton said, pressing his index finger against the glass of the window.

''You want to go to the mall?''

''Oh... yes.''

''With a stolen car?''

''But-it's just-there's-'' Patton sighed. ''I planned on doing more after the date, I didn't know it was going to last all day. And I didn't know you were going to steal a car!''

Janus looked at Patton and outside the window behind him. Not far away was a large building that was expanding horizontally.

''Fine, whatever.'' Janus turned his attention back to the road and turned on the right turn signal.

As they drove out of the parking lot, inside the building, and towards the stores, Patton told that he had gardening as a hobby — something that Janus had already noticed when he mentioned all the succulent plants that had names beginning with A. He wanted to plant a vegetable garden, but didn't know much about how to do that yet. And for that, he would need the proper tools and clothes. The first place they went was a clothing store. Once there, they eventually drifted off as Patton looked for something specific and Janus just didn't care to keep up.

He wandered distractedly around the store, looking at the clothes on display. There was a wall filled only with women's suits, starting with neutral colors of gray and dark blue. Then a red one appeared. A pink one. After that followed several that had their lapels and pockets printed for some reason. On the other side of the store, a large table displayed themed shirts with Star Wars character prints. Next to it was a second table that was almost identical, but this one contained Harry Potter themed clothes. A long rack had colorful bomber jackets, alternating between one color until it got to the jeans jackets with kitten prints and pieces of pizza on the back. Hanging high above it was a section of long trench coats in solid colors. Most were beige or gray, and investigating to the back of the rack, Janus came across a yellow one. Not a neon, vibrant, strong yellow, but a more subdued, darker, a shade of ''mustard yellow,'' as some palettes named it, considering that the color was closer to brown. Stretching out his arm, he removed the hanger and examined the overcoat. Its fabric was dense, warm, and it had small strips to be buttoned on each sleeve. At waist height there was also a long belt in the same color, which was tied at the back with a bow. He pulled it over his forearm and walked back through the store to a section that contained several long-sleeved blouses. Some had a high collar, others had zippers on the back. Apart from these details, they didn't vary much. He looked through the pieces, and finally decided on a light gray one with a turtleneck. He held both the jacket and the blouse together, stretching them out in front of him, observing how they would look together.

''Boo!'' said a voice behind him, at the same time as a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and immediately released them.

Janus hissed, making a sort of high-pitched animal-like sound, and gathered his arms closer to himself. Beside him, Patton appeared, laughing with one hand in front of his mouth and holding clothes with the other arm.

''What was that? It sounded like...'' Patton sniffled, catching his breath. ''One of those little snakes! With a rattle!''

''Oh, it's you.'' Janus sighed and rolled his eyes, ignoring Patton's comment and the fact that he felt his cheeks warming up.

''That was payback for the museum.'' Patton said, and crossed his arms over his chest. ''Listen, I'm going to try on these clothes, so...''

They looked at each other in silence.

''...You're staying here, right? In the store?''

''No, Patton, I'm strategically waiting that you're busy so that I can run off and leave you alone like I did with a stranger in the diner.'' Janus spoke ironically, and in silence, Patton watched him with big eyes, worthy of a Japanese animation. ''I'm not leaving without you, okay? If that's what you want to know.''

Janus looked at the small set of clothes he had in hand and at Patton beside him, before stretching out his arm and offering them to him.

''Try these on too.''

Slowly, Patton took both pieces and examined them.

''Why?''

''Just try them on.'' Janus shrugged.

''Okay...'' Patton added them to the clothes he already had with him. ''But then I'll choose an outfit for you too!''

''What? No.'' He grimaced.

''Yes! It'll be fun, come on!''

''We're not going to play dress-up.''

''Why not?''

''Because!''

''You picked out a little outfit for me.''

Janus grumbled, stuffing both hands in his pockets.

''Fine.''

''Yay! Come on, come on!'' Patton jumped up and down and gestured for the young man to follow him. Grudgingly, Janus did so.

The two of them walked through the different sections of the store, as Patton analyzed the most diverse items. A light green shirt with buttons down the front and a pineapple print caught his eye, but after one more look at Janus, he returned it to the rack. It was so easy to find something Patton liked; as long as it looked colorful or fun it was more than enough. He also resisted the temptation to pick up a salmon colored t-shirt, whose right side pocket had a flamingo design, so that it looked like the animal was stored in the small compartment.

''Oh, what do you like to do?'' Patton asked suddenly.

''What do you mean?'' Janus frowned, intrigued.

''Sort of like a hobby. I like gardening," he exemplified what he had said before. ''What's your hobby?''

''Oh... uh...''

Patton stopped by another booth where long-sleeved shirts were spread out.

''I play the piano.'' Janus finally answered. Not that it wasn't true, but it was more of a... half-truth.

''Really?'' Patton turned to him, smiling and holding one of the shirts from the exhibit close to him.

''Yes, really.''

Yes, he could play the piano. And yes, in terms of personal interests, he was busier producing an outfit identical to that of Marvel's Doctor Stephen Strange. His fingers had seen more needle points than piano keys in recent years, but that was not relevant.

''Oh, that's so cool! I kind of started to learn how to play the ukulele, but...''

''...But?'' -He arched one eyebrow.

''I don't know, I'm not very good at it. I guess it's just lack of practice.'' Patton remarked as he watched a mannequin a little taller than he, wearing a scarf and unfurl the cloth from around his neck.

Janus squinted his eyes and made a mental note of the fact.

They walked around the store for a few more minutes until Patton chose a hat. He held up three of the pieces he had with him and held them out to Janus.

''There! Oh, we can play catwalk too!''

''No, no... no...'' Janus shook his head, holding the clothes that Patton had handed him, and the two of them headed for the fitting rooms. ''No, we'll see about that after we've tried them on, okay?''

''Okay!'' Patton agreed, and, getting out in front of them, took the first fitting room he saw with the door open, closing it behind him.

Janus stopped where he was and sighed, coming to the conclusion that living with Patton was like living with a child. He didn't know exactly what opinion to form of this, but he chose to put the thought aside and walked into one of the fitting rooms.

A few minutes passed before Janus heard Patton coming out of his fitting room, sounding surprised. Wearing the clothes Patton had chosen for him, he opened the door and stepped out of the booth. With his back to him, Patton stood in front of a large mirror that took up the wall at the end of the fitting room aisle. His new light gray turtleneck blouse was tucked into his jeans, and over that, he wore a large dark yellow trench coat, the length of which extended just below the knee. The pants left a small part of his legs showing, so that the yellow all-star sneakers that went down to his ankles drew attention.

''I look like someone...'' Patton thought to himself, moving from side to side and letting the bar of his jacket swing. With a jump, he turned to Janus behind him. ''The tenth Doctor! From Doctor Who!''

Janus looked him up and down, and the only similarities to the character in question were the coat and the sneakers. Even though part of the outfit had been chosen by someone else, Patton still looked like the host of a children's show.

Patton also looked at him, bringing both hands to his chest, below the collarbone.

''You look so pretty! And stylish!''

Janus didn't answer, and instead crossed his arms, cutting off eye contact. His clothes still had dark shades. Like Patton, he was still wearing the same pants and shoes that he had chosen for the date at the museum — a black pair of pleated pants and brown boots - and like Patton, he had also tucked the dark gray long-sleeved shirt into his pants. The difference was that Janus had two extra accessories: a plaid scarf, in beige and black, and a black straight-brimmed hat, large enough to partially cover his face. Janus hoped that it was doing its job, and he put it on, pretending that his face was not getting a blush.

Excitedly, Patton stood next to him, and then the two of them were standing facing the mirror, where the critical difference in height was noticeable.

''It's such a serious outfit... but I like it!'' Patton spoke up, with both hands in his jacket pockets. ''Why did you choose this?''

''I thought it was something you could wear to class.''

''Oh!'' Patton wiggled again, smiling. ''I hadn't even thought of that, but it's a good idea.''

Patton turned to him.

''How about you? Do you like your outfit?''

''No, it's hideous.'' Janus answered lazily, rolling his eyes.

''Oh, really?'' Fearful, Patton leaned back, analyzing his choices. ''I thought it was nice... I tried to pick something that would go with you. I can try again if you like.''

Next to him, Patton looked genuinely upset, and a wave of panic rose in his throat.

''It was irony.'' Janus clarified. ''I liked it.''

''You liked it?'' Patton asked again, and he nodded. ''Yay! I'm going to go change, and then we can go, okay?''

''Sure.'' Janus agreed as Patton returned to the fitting room.

But when Patton left the booth for the last time, wearing his normal clothes — the ones he had chosen for the date at the museum — Janus was still wearing the clothes he had chosen. He was leaning close to the door of his fitting room, now open, looking distractedly at the yellow gloves he was wearing. Patton stopped next to him, in silence, until he asked:

''Aren't you going to change your clothes?''

''Oh, no, not really.'' Janus said, picking up the shirt and sweater he had been wearing. Before Patton could say anything, he added while smiling charmingly: ''Shall we?''

Patton frowned, but agreed, and they walked back to the store. Janus was further ahead, while Patton looked for the cashier, and he almost bumped into Janus when he stopped abruptly.

''Excuse me, sir," a young man started to say, approaching Janus and looking at him. He wore a badge hanging around his neck. ''Are these the clothes from the store?''

Janus turned his face slowly in the opposite direction. Next to him was a stand of sunglasses, and he looked at them closely.

''Look, sir, it is against store policy to wear the clothes outside the fitting room without paying first.''

Silently, Patton looked between Janus and the store employee. Janus took a pair of white, black and gray sunglasses, whose lenses prevented others from seeing his eyes, and put them on.

''I'm going to need you to go back to the fitting room and change, otherwise it will be characterized as theft, and I'll have to call security.'' The boy explained calmly, and Patton's eyes widened.

Janus wove the plaid scarf around his neck and adjusted his hat, so that it hid the part of his face that was closest to the employee.

''Is that so?'' Janus asked, with a heavy foreign accent.

''Yes.'' The boy confirmed, holding both hands in front of his body.

Janus grumbled, turning his attention back to the sunglasses stand.

''If I had known that I would be treated like this I wouldn't even have come here. But please, call security.''

The employee blinked repeatedly and leaned toward Janus.

''Excuse me?''

''It's just that where I come from it is very normal for customers to wear the clothes they are going to buy while they are in the store.'' Janus continued sarcastically and with his accent. ''I personally think it is absurd to be called a thief when I have done nothing wrong!''

Behind him, Patton was starting to make faces due to his confusion. From the stand, Janus picked up a pair of sunglasses whose lenses were blue hearts, and offered them to Patton.

''Try this one on, honey, it suits you.''

Hesitantly, Patton took the glasses and held them out in front of him.

''You’re still violating store policy.'' The employee repeated.

''Are you really going to call security on me?''

''I'm sorry, and you would be...?''

''Alfred Hitchcoppolucas," Janus announced, sliding his index finger and thumb along the brim of his hat. ''Director of Psycho Godfather Wars.''

In shock, Patton approached Janus and the clerk.

''Excuse me...'' He started to say, but Janus purposely put himself between him and the other boy.

''Please, do call security. So this could end up in a lawsuit against your store, it will be so much fun!'' Janus, Alfred said, gesturing and smiling exaggeratedly, pretending.

''Oh... oh.'' The employee was flabbergasted and started stammering, trying to fix the situation. ''No, no, that won't be necessary, sir. I am so sorry for the inconvenience, actually, you know what? You don't have to pay for anything. I'll turn off the alarms in the store, so you can go, okay?''

Patton watched as the scene unfolded before him, and of all the absurd things to question, he wondered if Alfred Hitchcoppolucas was a real person.

''Oh, really?'' Alfred asked with a strong accent and a drawling tone of voice.

''Yes, really. I'm very serious.'' The employee started to walk away, almost tripping over his own feet. ''I'll do it now, okay?'' He said, and with that, disappeared from sight.

Immediately, Janus broke off his fake smile and turned to Patton. With one hand he lowered his sunglasses minimally, looking Patton over them.

''You were saying?''

For the second time that day, Patton had more than one thought swirling around in his head, and there was a certain difficulty in turning them into comprehensible sentences.

''Who is Alfred Hitchcoppolucas?''

''A director.''

''No, no, you're not Alfred something, you're Janus...'' Patton interrupted himself when he realized that he didn't know his last name. ''Why did you lie to him?''

Janus shrugged and smiled.

''Because I can.''

''No! No, you can't just go around tricking people!''

''Why not?''

''Because it's wrong!'' Patton justified, and at the same time Janus repeated the exact same thing, but as if it were a question in a debauched tone.

''Think through the bright side,'' One by one, Janus removed the paper labels from the pieces he was using. ''You're saving money.''

With a few steps, he stepped aside and picked up two ecobags that were displayed on a low hanger. He put the tags and his original clothes in one of them, and offered the other to Patton.

''Shall we go?''

Hesitant and a little upset, Patton held up the bag and put all the products he was holding into it. He considered heading to the cashier and paying for them anyway, but before he could find his location in the place, Janus started walking again, heading toward the store doors. Patton followed him a reasonable distance, and as they walked through the silent detectors, Patton updated the list he had in mind.

Lawyer.

Thief.

Charming.

Liar.

And despite the questionable attributes, his indecision about what opinion to form of Janus remained haunting him.

Hours later, they left the mall, and the sun had given way to the moon and the stars that kept it company.

The outside was cold enough to give it goose bumps, and as they made their way to the pickup truck, Patton gripped the ends of his windbreaker jacket, ready to zip it up. But before he could do that, something else caught his eye. He stopped where he was, noticing how on the other side of the outdoor parking lot, a little way off, there was an enclosed car with a large dog inside. He stood there for a few seconds, watching the scene and walked hurriedly towards the car, not even noticing that Janus was walking steps ahead of him.

''... And that is why carrots are the worst vegetables.'' He concluded a monologue, and immediately looked both ways, noticing Patton's absence. Janus spun around in time to see him walking away toward an unfamiliar car. ''Patton?''

The young man continued walking.

''Patton!'' he called, and walked quickly in the same direction.

''Hi.'' Patton greeted the animal in as calm a voice as he could while resting his hands against the closed windows of the car. The dog inside, a golden retriever, turned to him, panting and blinking. ''Are you stuck in there?''

Patton touched different places on the car door, as if it would magically open for him. He reached for the handle and pulled, but nothing happened. It was locked. Of course it was locked.

Janus caught up with him and stopped beside him.

''What are you doing?'' he asked exasperated.

''There's a dog in here.'' Patton said, turning briefly to him, his eyebrows raised together. ''He's hot.''

Janus looked over to the side of the car, seeing the dog sitting in the back seats.

''And?''

''We have to get him out of here!'' Patton again touched random parts of the door. ''But there's no way, it's locked!''

Patton considered his options. He could try to go back to the mall and find the owner of the car — and the dog. But how could he do this? The person could be anywhere, in any store. What if it was an employee? He could have been working by now. There was no personal information on the outside of the car, and trying to find the owner by blindly searching for him could take hours.

Janus frowned and looked at Patton and the golden retriever inside, his pink tongue falling out of his mouth.

''It's not our dog,'' He thought about saying, which meant it wasn't their problem. But neither was the red pickup truck parked a short distance away, and that hadn't stopped him.

Besides, Patton remained with the same expression of sadness and concern on his face, touching the car door.

Janus bowed his head and thought about what they had. The keys to the pickup truck. Cell phones. Eyeglasses. A hat. Some gardening tools, small but firm, just like the car keys. A jacket. An overcoat, long and dense. Belts. Sneakers... Sneakers. His gaze hovered over Patton's pair of all-star sneakers at ankle height, the yellow glowing against the darkness of the concrete floor at night.

''Take off the shoelace.''

''What?'' Patton turned to him, confused.

''Take off your shoelace.'' Janus ordered, raising his head and looking at him.

Patton hesitated briefly before leaning against the car door, bending forward and raising one of his legs to chest height. After a few seconds of struggling, he pulled out the long line and held it out in front of Janus.

''Keep an eye out for anyone coming.'' He said casually, taking the shoelace.

''What do you mean?'' Patton muttered, standing on tiptoe and looking around, not knowing exactly how to warn him if anyone approached.

Janus glanced down at Patton's feet, interlacing the shoelace, noticing how one of his socks was green, and the other, red.

The thread now had a small knot with an opening in the center, which could be closed by pulling on one side. He slipped the shoelace through the doorway, and luckily the rubber didn't stop it. The dog, noticing the narrow line above him, raised his long nose and sniffed it briefly, not caring about it. Janus crouched down, facing the door and moving his arms carefully as he lowered the wire. Standing next to him, Patton alternated glances between what Janus was doing — which Patton didn't understand anyways — and his surroundings, nervously. He couldn't see any people outside, but entering the parking lot, a car sped up the path behind them, and Patton's eyes widened.

''A car just drove by.''

''Was it a police car?''

''No.''

''Then it doesn't matter.''

Janus kept his gaze fixed on the inside of the car. The dog sniffed the shoelace once more as it hovered over the door latch pin between them. He closed the knot around the latch tightly and pulled both ends up, causing the small latch to lift.

The door was open.

He exhaled and stood, and Patton smiled at him, hopefully. Janus pulled the handle and the door opened, and immediately, the golden retriever jumped out of the car, but he couldn't get very far: strapped to the headrest of the seat, a leash held him down. Janus leaned forward, looking for the clasp on the dog's collar, but before he could find it, Patton moved in front of him and rested one knee on the car seat.

''Patton!''

''Wait!'' He brought both hands to the piece of steel supporting the headrest. It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust to the pitch inside the vehicle, and meanwhile he was digging his nails into the leash, pulling it in different directions. Eventually, it began to loosen, and written in blue on the red fabric was a name: Steve.

With the leash in one hand, Patton got out of the car and took a few steps back. Once he had moved far away enough, Janus took the shoelace and lowered the pin again, closing the door and locking it. The two, now three, crossed the parking lot quickly, avoiding running. They opened the back of the truck, and with a few finger snaps above the compartment, the dog jumped in. Now almost at his height and with better lighting, Patton noticed that the collar around his neck also had the colors blue and red. Its pendant consisted of circles in those colors with the addition of white, and in the center, there was the silhouette of a dog's paw.

Steve, he thought. Blue, red and white. The yellowish fur. Steve in reference to Steve Rogers. Captain America.

They turned around, getting into the cab of the car, and with the same agility they had left the diner hours earlier, they were now leaving the parking lot behind.

Janus drove in silence, without a destination in mind.

Patton bowed his head, looking at his white shirt that now contained gray stains that he didn't know how he had gotten.

The drive went on for a few minutes, until, looking out the window, Patton recognized the road they were passing by.

''There's a bridge up ahead.'' he pointed out. ''We could stop and let Steve drink some water.''

Janus frowned, glancing at the back of the car.

''Steve?''

Patton nodded.

''It's on his leash.''

They arrived at the mostly deserted spot. Janus stopped the pickup truck above the bridge, and Patton was the first to get out, pushing his sneakers against the cold, polished stone floor. He went to the back of the car, opening the cargo bed and letting the dog out. With the leash in hand, they went around the bridge and down a small slope beside the architectural support that consisted of sand and brush, approaching the river of running water below. Steve immediately went towards the water and, as expected, began to drink. Patton let go of his leash and sat down on the ground, putting the laces back on his sneakers, listening to the engine of the truck still running.

The wind echoed in his ears, and he regretted not having zipped up his jacket when he first thought of it. The bridge, as well as its edges, were lit only by the weak grayish light of the moon above them. In the navy blue sky, tiny dots flickered and a few clouds were lurking. Patton watched the surrounding flora, high enough to be at his knee height, and hoped that no animals would appear. Most people would worry about snakes in an environment like this, maybe frogs because it was near water, but Patton's biggest concern was spiders. To his right, at a higher level, the rocky bridge cast a shadow over him.

The roar of the engine stopped and footsteps approached.

''Partners in crime?'' he asked in a drawling tone of voice.

Patton let out a sharp cry and turned back, seeing Janus standing a little above him, arms crossed. He stood erect, and his plaid scarf swayed gently in the wind, which in the poor lighting made him look more like a mysterious silhouette than a human being.

''What?''

''Partners in crime. '' He repeated and shrugged. ''You stole a dog.''

''I didn't steal a dog.'' Patton defended himself, standing up and brushing the sand out of his pants. ''I just... took it for a walk.''

''Without asking the owner or even knowing him?'' Janus squinted his eyes.

''I just...'' he stammered. ''Yes!''

''No, you stole a dog.''

''You stole a dog!''

''I stole a car, that's different.'' Janus waved one hand. ''It was your idea.''

''You opened the car.''

''Okay, we did it together, whatever. It's still a crime just the same.''

''No, it was for a good reason! He was in the heat, I just wanted to get him out of there!'' Patton slurred his words, pointing at Steve behind him.

''I never said it wasn't for a good reason. That's not my point.'' Janus looked at Patton and smiled briefly. ''We're alike. Isn't that what you wanted?''

Patton looked at him and remembered the two questionable attributes that were on his mental list of things he knew for sure about Janus. Thief. Liar.

''No, we're not. We have nothing in common!''

''Wrong. We have philosophy and theft.'' Janus went down the small sand hill, stopping in front of Patton.

''No, only bad people steal!''

Janus brought one hand to his chest, pretending to be offended.

''Patton! What about the people who live on the street and steal to survive?''

He opened his mouth, ready to retort, but no words came. After a moment, he resumed, denying with his head:

''No. No, that's not what I meant. No, that's enough.'' Patton moved his arms from side to side in front of him. ''We'll come back, we'll return the dog, and we'll return the car, okay?''

''Oh, please...'' Janus started, but Patton turned his back on him, approaching the riverbank and stopping near Steve.

Patton's idea of going back and returning the collected belongings without permission was ridiculous, to say the least. Especially considering that they had managed to leave the situations behind without major consequences. There was no point in denying the obvious — that crimes had been committed — and Janus didn't really understand why Patton insisted on doing that. With his eyes half-closed, he watched Patton and thought. Patton also insisted on the statement that stealing made you a bad person; committing crimes made you a bad person. Janus knew that things were not that easy, as black and white. And it suddenly occurred to him that maybe Patton didn't know that.

The icy evening wind ruffled their ears and crickets began to echo around them, and Janus let the room be filled with the sounds of nature as he thought.

''Would you agree with Jean-Jacques Rousseau when he said that man is good and society corrupts him?'' He asked, pronouncing the words slowly and clearly.

Patton looked at him over his shoulder.

''I don't know. Maybe?''

After a moment, he continued:

''And would you agree with Thomas Hobbes when he said that man is essentially evil?''

''Would you?'' Patton asked him, his worried look gradually softening.

Janus took a few steps and stopped beside Patton, staring at Steve as he drank the water.

''No, not with either of them.'' Janus turned to him, his colorful eyes in a state of serenity. ''Psychology, philosophy, anthropology, all these fields have the human being and its existence as their focus of study. Ever since we existed, we have been trying to find the answers to these same questions. Are we good? Are we bad? Why are we here? And these areas are still relevant today because we don't have a yes or no answer. Because after centuries of investigation, we have come to the conclusion that humanity is complex. It is to be expected that these questions will have complicated answers, if such answers ever exist. No one is inherently good or bad entirely, Patton. You can steal and still be a good person. It just depends on how you see yourself.''

Patton nodded, muttering something incomprehensible. Quickly, Janus continued:

''But you know... if you really want to know if you're a ''bad'' person...'' Janus offered his hand to him, the yellow glove standing out in the darkness. ''We can find out together.''

Silently, Patton smiled softly and took Janus's hand.

On the floor, Steve turned toward them. He shook himself, causing water splashing from his beard to hit the two men next to him. Janus protested, complaining, but Patton didn't much care.

''Can we go now?''

Patton leaned forward, taking Steve's leash, and the trio returned to the bridge and the car above them.

''What is the next stop?'' Patton asked.

''I don't know," Janus shrugged. ''Do you want me to drive you home?''

''I'd like to, but...'' Patton glanced at the back of the car. Behind Janus, Steve's mouth was open and the wind was against his golden hair. ''I'm not sure how I'm going to get in with a dog that size.''

Of course, getting home was not exactly the problem. The problem would be how to justify to the neighbors why he had an adult golden retriever with him, in case someone saw him.

Janus remained silent, searching for a solution. Patton picked up his cell phone, pressed his fingers against the screen a few times, and moments later, announced:

''There is a hotel nearby that accepts dogs. The Sandman Inn.''

''Yes, but do they accept large dogs?''

Patton swiped at the cell phone screen.

''Yes, they do. It's not too far away.''

Janus agreed, ready to follow the GPS directions, when Patton grabbed his arm.

''Wait!''

''What?''

''There's a supermarket here!'' Patton pointed, and across the street, a large sign with its lights on indicated the store was open. ''Let's stop here. It's gonna be just a minute.''

''What for?'' Janus asked, already turning the car around.

''To buy things!'' Patton simply said. When they pulled into the parking lot, Patton got out of the car, but Janus didn't move. ''Aren't you coming?''

''No. You can go.''

''Okay.'' Patton agreed and quickly drove away, approaching the doors that opened automatically for him.

Patton took a basket from the stack next to the door, and walked through the aisles occupied only by merchandise. The cleaning products section was the closest, and he walked through an aisle that contained fabric softeners and clothes nails.

Lawyer. Thief. Charming. Liar, it echoed through his mind, and Patton wondered what answer he would provide when Virgil asked him if he liked Janus.

He turned right, now passing through a corridor that contained brooms and insecticides.

Technically, their date had been extended for the rest of the day. Technically.

Patton glanced at the products in other aisles as he walked in front of them. Pasta. Canned goods and seasonings. Dairy products. Frozen foods.

Would he want a second date? Assuming they didn't get caught for the thefts, of course.

Patton entered an aisle of children's birthday party supplies.

But as Janus himself had said, not all people who did things that were considered bad were really bad. The case of the homeless people was a good example.

He took a card with colored candles and put it in the basket.

This line of reasoning would work for Janus as well as for him.

Patton took a few steps forward and picked up plastic plates and cutlery, adding them to the basket so that they would keep the candles company.

So... it was all relative, really. Janus had kind of explained that too.

Patton returned to the frozen food aisle. He ignored the large transparent doors that displayed ice cream of the most diverse brands and flavors. He stopped in front of a large booth displaying ready-made cakes, and chose one whose frosting consisted of granules and cherries, and placed it in the basket.

There was a decision to be made.

When Patton came out of the supermarket with a shopping bag in his hand, Janus was leaning outside the car, petting Steve.

''Ready?''

''Ready. We're good to go.'' Patton confirmed, smiling.

Once again, they returned to the cab of the truck and went on their way.

The Sandman Inn was open twenty-four hours a day.

It was a clean and quiet place, and the carpeting in the lobby was red and gold.

They checked in, and the employee handed them the key to Room 9E, with two beds.

Janus and Patton stepped into the elevator. Steve's leash in one hand, the keys to pickup the truck in the other, the shopping ecobags on their shoulders, and the grocery bag in the other hand.

Arriving in the bedroom, they left both bags with clothes on the bed. Janus removed Steve's leash, and Steve began sniffing around the room. Patton approached a small table that was in front of the beds and put his bag on top of it, removing the groceries one by one. He removed the plastic cover from the cake and placed it in the center of the table, opening the carton of colorful candles.

''Can you turn off the light?'' he asked, and a little hesitantly, Janus did so. Outside, the grayish moon produced a faint beam of light that invaded the room through the window, preventing them from being completely in the dark.

Patton sat down in one of the chairs, and Janus removed his hat and joined him on the other side. Steve also joined them, lying down at Patton's feet.

At the cashier, Patton had picked up a box of matches at the last minute. He had spread four of the colorful candles on the edge closest to Janus, and was now lighting them.

''So,'' Janus began, with a terrible posture in his seat. Strands of his dark brown hair fell over one of his eyes. ''I suppose we'll be saying goodbye to each other in the morning?''

Patton smiled quietly, placing the rest of the candles at the end closest to him.

''No, I don't think so.''

Janus squinted his eyes. He leaned forward and, with one breath, blew out the candles that were lit. Immediately, Patton began to light the ones he had positioned last.

''I'm down for a second date, actually.'' He explained, his gaze focused on the wax and the fire. ''I think there's more about you that I don't know.''

''I do cosplay, if that's what you want to know.'' Janus looked away, crossing one leg over the other.

Patton stopped where he was and laughed, making a mental note to return to this subject later.

''It was you who suggested that we find out if we are bad people together.'' he said, finishing lighting the candles.

They both stared at each other for a brief moment, before Janus asked, in his usual lazy tone:

''I'm stuck with you now, aren't I?''

Patton propped both elbows horizontally on the table. He looked at his cell phone beside him, and the 11:59 on the lock screen turned into 00:00, accompanied by the date May 1.

It was midnight.

It was his birthday.

It was their birthday.

''Happy birthday, Janus.''

Janus lifted the corners of his mouth minimally, just enough to go unnoticed.

''Happy birthday, Patton.''

And Patton blew out the candles, leaving them in the dark.

#paulie's posts #moceitappreciationweek #moceit #sanders sides #ts janus #ts patton

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