#ristorantebar

[determinazionearch]

"man i'm so sorry to hear about your breakup with brock from pokemon." mista said while he kdlfjhgkafdghkjdfgh

where did this come from?  mista’s mind worked in strange, borderline incomprehensible ways, it seems.

“   are you … implying we were a couple?   ”  the raise of a single eyebrow betrayed his confusion, simultaneously conveying his lack of offense.   “   what makes you believe i would be interested in a boy like him?   ”  

wait … was he entertaining this fictional scenario?  mista’s influence was strong   —-   but not unwelcome.

“   perhaps you should keep him company.  you’d make a great couple.   ”

[determinazionearch]

yo, giorno! i'm a heeba daba deeba debebadbe tomorrow yeah

was this another prank of mista’s?  when the words fell from his lips, giorno could do little else but stare  :   brows shifting higher until the curve of his lips formed a gentle smile, parting only to allow a soft chuckle to pass. giorno was no stranger to absurdity and, perhaps, that was what his life needed   —-   some silliness.

“  what did you say, mista?   ” let’s see if he would repeat that gibberish phrase.

[determinazionearch]

"hey, happy seventeenth, dude! let's make this one way better than last year, okay?" mista hands giorno a gift that's surprisingly well-wrapped (for the most part, it's a bit messy) -- within is a bag that mista found that made him think of giorno! it's a deep violet handbag adorned with golden butterfly ornaments and baubles. "hope you like this. i think it's got giorno vibes!"

happy (belated) birthday giorno!    —-   not accepting.

cheerful and optimistic as ever, mista’s presence turns a dull moment into something thrilling.  the messily wrapped gift isn’t criticised whatsoever, giorno instead amused, if not flattered, by his sincere effort.  he understands that not everyone was precise with their calculations, nor were they taught how to properly utilize wrapping paper, so its presentation becomes irrelevant.  carefully removing the paper from the box within, giorno sets it aside for later ( the paper bin is somewhere else in the room ), choosing to fixate on its contents instead.  lifting the lid and setting it on the wooden table underneath, a soft gasp escaped his lips the moment he realized what it was   —-   a rather beautiful bag. 

taking it by the top and removing it from the box, he gently places it on his own palm, feeling its weight and texture.  it’s wonderful, perfectly fancy without overwhelming the senses. 

“   oh,  this is rather cute.  you’ve got a great understanding of my style, mista.  thank you so much.   ”   it’s unprompted,  but the hug that followed was long overdue.  this time, he won’t even mention the faint musky scent that still penetrates his now - familiar cologne.  instead, his embrace tightens, to show appreciation for his dearest friend.

[hyperconscious]

hey ßro how's it going - mista to mista

' sup ßro just reading this ßook about ßartending ßecause it seems like fun since you can drink on the joß. i think at least idk tho. '

[ironleonine]

he holds the CD in his hands as though it held the answers to all of humanity's questions, his fingers traced the beautiful front as though it was KING TUT'S TOMB, his hands shake, in fact his entire frame is wracked in trembles, his messy bangs had fallen over his face. ❝ –  aa... AAAA.... ❞ 

suddenly his face lifts with a bounce of his black hair revealing very wet violet eyes, a trail of snot hits his top lip as he bawls, however one could never call it sobbing from the joy that bubbled from his chest.

❝ –  MIIIIIIISTAAAAAAAAAAA H !! ❞  the box containing MISTA'S cake nearly squashed on his lap ( SEX PISTOL'S thankfully had quickly removed it in their haste to get to the sweet treat within ) as NARANCIA launches himself onto his best friend, CD clenched in his hand as his arms wrap around under MISTA'S arms.

( in response to this! (x) )

[ironleonine]

❝– they just... KEEP them! ❞  he reiterates with a strange unease, one would think he was speaking of an exotic pet or cursed relic from some dodgy corner ship but no, plastic bags which do nothing but hold groceries and crinkle, dance in the wind if some asshole didn't clean up his litter. ❝– the drawer in the kitchen is packed with them, bags within freaken' BAGS! ❞ the teen straightens his hunch, leaning in with a hand covering one corner of his mouth as though sharing a secret. ❝– you think TRISH planted them there? ❞ 

continued from (x)

[determinazionearch]

HELP GIORNO I'M CHOKING ON A HOT DOG!!!!!!!!

while giorno questioned mista’s ability to speak audibly while a food item obstructed his trachea, his emotional instincts took over before he could formulate a proper response —- prompting him to firmly grasp mista from behind and squeeze down on his abdomen in the hopes of extracting the obstruction, feverish in his determination to free his airways ...  until the hot dog flew out of his throat, bouncing limply against the brick wall opposing them.  was that their “ enemy ” … ?  this was somewhat underwhelming, even as relief soothed giorno’s anxiety-ridden heart. immediately, attention turned to the —- ... victim of the situation.

“  …  are you alright, mista? ”

[hyperconscious]

@ristorantebar asked ! : "yo... what?! there's two of us?!" mista tugs at the ends of his beanie in amazement, pointing with one finger at... himself? then, after some contemplation of the bizarre situation, he adds, "just as long as there's not four of us. i mean, can you imagine?"

' WHAT !!!!!!!! another me ?! ' STUNNED WASN'T a good enough word to use here , another ... him ?! he examined the supposed doppleganger in front of him - looking at how different patterns clashed together. man , that's how i dress ?! ' well ... thank god there's not four of us. i think we'd have to beat up one of us to even it out. '