#starprint

prosciutto   could   be   irritating   and   authoritative.      they   all   took   their   jobs   seriously   -   despite   how   some   may   behave.   their   complaints.   more   so   since   -      the   incident   ,   one   risotto   had   pleaded   they   forget   ;   for   their   own   safety.   well-being.      but   prosciutto   was   particularly   devoted.  always.   to   the   mission   -   his   teammates.      these   traits   were   admirable      -      he’d   be   ecstatic   if   he   were   to   find   a   mother   similar.   how   interesting   it   would   be   to   observe   babyface’s   development   derived   from   such   quality   traits   -   no   ,   perhaps   not.   it   would   be   far   too   disobedient.         impossible   to   teach.

   frosty   eyes   pass   over   the   man   -   uncharacteristically   quiet,   partly  due  to  ghiaccios  absence ,   and   the  distraction  of   his  own  thoughts.    everything   the   man   touched   left   the   lingering   scent   of   tobacco.   his   entire   personality   reeked   of   daddy   issues   and   to   top   it   off   he   wore   goddamn   braces   with   his   socks.      braces.   like   shaping   himself   perfectly   into   the   mafia   aesthetic   was   his   very   soul   intent.      melone   groans   -   arms   draped   over   his   face   in   some   piteous   display.      why’d   his   type   have   to   be   so   various?   so   ill-refined.      not   to   mention   apparently   resistant   to   his   brand   of   seduction.   it   shouldn’t   have   been   this   difficult   -   a   weeks   worth   of   illuso   wages   should   already   be   seated   safely   in   his   pocket.   ready   to   be   spent   anyway   he   desired.      but   no   -   instead   he’d   subjected   himself   to   numerous   failed   attempts   ,   and   even   more   haughty   knowing   smirks   from   illuso.   his  confidence  had  taken  a  hit. 

but   he   wasn’t   content   on   spending   his   day   off   on   the   sofa   -   sulking.   giving   up   on   his   own   misery   -      he   tosses   a   cushion   at   the   blonde.   to   get   his   attention   -   and   to   wipe   that   passive   look   from   his   face.        

         「  — Wasabi?  」

         BUT IT WAS WHEN THE OTHER INVITED him and the others to have sushi with them, that he was interested. From conversations while travelling with Avdol he had come to know him in many aspects, one being that his favourite food would probably be sushi, so Kakyoin thought, that if Avdol knew what was good, then ofcourse it was going to be amazing.

         「  Yeah, I’m okay with wasabi. Just kill me ——  」

         EIGHTTEEN YEARS OF USING WASABI to battle the lack of good flavours in the supermarket sushi they’d eat when they’d celebrate something, made him sound so confident about adding a lot of wasabi to what he ordered, not noticing the mistake he had made.

Love me daddy. Father. Have my uwus @starprint / unprompted / always accepting .

      “     . . .   your what ??     ”

     They’re eating... salami... Fran is no stranger to the different forms a dynamic between stand and user can take, but she’s never seen anything like this. She can’t take her eyes off of the scene. It’s strange enough that each little stand seems to have its own distinct personality (in conflict with one another, even--does that reflect something of the user himself?), but they even eat--seem quite delighted to do so, in fact, though their user seems less enthralled about it. Is it a want or a need for them, Fran wonders. Some stands do have odd requirements to work, I suppose, but this is on an entirely different level...

     Does it have to be salami? Gloved hand braced thoughtfully under her chin, Fran tilts her head, staring quite fixedly at the little creatures as they devour the proffered meats. Is it like giving offerings to a god? No, surely not. Lost in consideration, Fran realizes too late that her somewhat-unnerving focus has been on Mista and his stand for too long as her gaze lifts briefly to find his eyes on her. A brief shock of anxiety runs through her, though it scarcely shows on her partially-obscured features. Ah...

          ❤  ° 。————   𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎 𝐁𝐘 .  before he had known , things have settled once more as if nothing had happened at all . where he had become the boss  &&  those who wanted their own life would be granted such . sometimes , it was okay to let himself see the familiar faces of his younger days , matured into someone who held the virtues of justice  &&  honour . such occasion where he had planned a meeting between himself  &&  trish , having not seen her in some time . he wondered what she was doing these days .

‘ do you think washers and dryers are like , actually friends or work friends ? ‘