[bwomp. janus feels the tap of impact on their forehead, and then they feel their eyes crinkle, their eyelashes pulling in tingling protest to nearly tangling with the ones framing juno's pretty dark eyes.
but don't get janus wrong. for all they're looking at him, it's not that they aren't listening to him talk at the same time. they like the stories he's telling. well, maybe they aren't stories, not full ones— the groundwork for stories, that he's laying out in impressionistic sweeps, the setup, the backdrop, the hook, the intimation of genre that promises that the plots are the sort that belong with synopses on glossy paperback, long and sordid movies made out of them. the kind of glory that has a fistful of grit rubbed into it, the immensity of the success achieved, the justice served, proportionate only to the awful sacrifice made.
janus wonders if any of his scars are new. they wonder if there are moments that juno doubts that the way things ended with the nameless stranger from his memory share— the nearest to the real story that janus has come so far-- was as necessary as he'd thought. they wonder if juno would have been more comfortable under martian blacklights, or in the pulsing rhapsody of smoke-choked future-music, if he'd been wearing a hamster costume.
anyhow.
that's just a lot of words to say, janus isn't thinking about anything in particular, when they kiss him.]
a mild powerpose!! lmk if not ok
but don't get janus wrong. for all they're looking at him, it's not that they aren't listening to him talk at the same time. they like the stories he's telling. well, maybe they aren't stories, not full ones— the groundwork for stories, that he's laying out in impressionistic sweeps, the setup, the backdrop, the hook, the intimation of genre that promises that the plots are the sort that belong with synopses on glossy paperback, long and sordid movies made out of them. the kind of glory that has a fistful of grit rubbed into it, the immensity of the success achieved, the justice served, proportionate only to the awful sacrifice made.
janus wonders if any of his scars are new. they wonder if there are moments that juno doubts that the way things ended with the nameless stranger from his memory share— the nearest to the real story that janus has come so far-- was as necessary as he'd thought. they wonder if juno would have been more comfortable under martian blacklights, or in the pulsing rhapsody of smoke-choked future-music, if he'd been wearing a hamster costume.
anyhow.
that's just a lot of words to say, janus isn't thinking about anything in particular, when they kiss him.]