#my bio says '26' and wow

[mercurialvixen]

So I've spent the last near decade after my mom died just trying to cease to exist. My only friend is my dog and she is elderly and on her way out. I'm not particularly okay. Trying a momentum thing where I had the revelation, 'what if I just don't lay down and die'. Maybe this will help, maybe not.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

Part 25

part 24

part 26

warning: smutty, handjob, Kurapika plays with Readers pussy, Reader gets injured by Kurapika, coma, SH(Kurapika doesn’t let himself eat or sleep after you get hurt), violence, reader kills someone and gets traumatized, vomiting

A/N: EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO BUG FOR HELPING SO MUCH WITH THIS CHAPTER!! A lot of the part where Killua tries to comfort reader was written by Bug!!

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah @themanicwriter01

If you’d like to be ADDED to the tawglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

(Name) woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing on her nightstand. She tried to move, but noticed Kurapika sleeping next to her, his arms wrapped around her and face buried in her chest.

The sight made her heart race and she would prefer to stay like this forever… but she couldn’t. “Pika, wake up. I’ve gotta answer my phone.”

He groaned a little, only nuzzling into her chest harder like a needy child, his arms tightening around her waist. “Five more minutes…”

She sighed, glancing at her phone before laying back down and planting a kiss on the top of his head. Sleep took her again, the world around her fading away, the only thing keeping her grounded was the feeling of Kurapika’s touch and warm breath against her cleavage.

An entire hour passed before she felt Kurapika stir next to her, his blonde hair tickling her chin. “Mmph…”

His leg rubbed against hers as he sat up, a soft pink on his cheeks from the warmth of being nestled between her breasts. Kurapika’s morning wood was evident in his pants, and he hadn’t even realized yet. “Good morning…”

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, (Name) scooted closer, wrapping her arms around him. “Thanks for getting me to bed last night, my back would be killing me if you left me on the couch.”

Kurapika nodded, leaning into her touch. He was still sleepy, taking in her gentle affection happily. “No problem, angel…”

His eyes shot open when he felt her hand on his chest, her lips against his cheek. “Pika, look down.”

He did as told, his face flushing red when he noticed the tent in his pajama pants. Kurapika pulled the blanket up to his torso, embarrassment clear on his face. “I-I’m so sorry, it happens when I wake up sometimes-“

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s natural, I understand.”

He blushed when she began to tug the blanket back down, her eyes on the bulge in his pants. “Kurapika?”

His breath hitched in his throat, his voice coming out husky. “Y-yes?”

She placed her hand over his tummy, slowly trailing down. “Can I… touch you?”

He felt like he was going to explode, his cock leaking precum all over his boxers with just the thought of her touching him. “You… touch me?”

“Mhm.”

She rested her hand on his thigh, leaning against him. Fuck, he could cum from her being so close and just insinuating that. “Lemme help you feel good, Pika.”

He could only nod, kicking the blanket off of him so she could have better access to him. (Name) smiled, placing her hand over his bulge. Kurapika let out a gasp, already panting.

“Oh? Does that feel good?”

She played with the waistband of his pajama pants, leaving kisses on his neck. “Tell me what you want, Pika.”

He whined a little, his head feeling fuzzy. (Name) wanted to touch him, and god he was still processing that. “Please… please touch me…”

(Name) cooed softly, slipping her hand down his pants and into his boxers. When her fingers grazed his length, he let out a sharp gasp, bucking his hips in her hand. “Mmph, (Name)!”

She kissed his neck as her fingers wrapped around his length, gently stroking him. “Pika, you’re so hard… my poor baby~”

Kurapika bucked his hips into her hand, his face a deep red, his eyes scarlet. “(N-Name), fuck…”

He felt like his could cum already, but didn’t want to cum all over her hand within a minute of her jerking him off. Kurapika didn’t want her to think he was a pathetic mess!

He tried his best to hold back, gently fucking into her hand as she left love bites on his neck. Kurapika whimpered, moving closer to her, his eyes begging for some comfort and reassurance. She obliged him, using her free hand to grab his chin and kiss him.

He whined into her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers desperately. “Please… please!”

She cooed, moving her hand faster and brushing her thumb against his tip. “Shh, shh, you don’t want anyone to hear you begging like that, do you? Guess I’ll have to keep you quiet.”

She tapped her finger against his lip, and he opened his mouth immediately, sucking on her fingers to keep quiet. “That’s my good boy, you’re doing amazing, Kurapika.”

Her gentle praise was making his cock twitch in her hand. He was so close, and with some gentle sucking on his neck he was cumming. It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had, his hips bucking out of control and soft moans leaving his lips. (Name) had to cover his mouth, continuing to stroke his cock to let him ride out his orgasm.

(Name) pulled her hand from his pants, looking at him as she began to lick his cum up. “Mm… you taste nice, Pika.”

He took a moment to recover, his head thrown back as he panted, his hips lightly bucking on their own. Whne he looked back at (Name) finally, his eyes were different, they were hungry.

“Pika, would you like a snack or a bath-“

Her attempts to offer aftercare were cut off by him pinning her to the bed, his lips crashing into hers. Kurapika used one hand to keep her wrists pinned above her head, and the other to tug her pants down, leaving them hanging around her thighs. “Fuck…”

She was wearing a pair of white cotton panties, a little wet patch growing in center. He nudged the patch with his finger, causing her to mewl. “Pikaa! P-please!”

He hummed, dipping back down to kiss her again, his tongue prodding against her lip. She opened her mouth, letting his tongue explore her mouth again as his fingers slipped into her panties. (Name) gasped into his mouth when his finger found her clit.

Kurapika had completely turned the tables on her, and she was at his mercy. He cooed down at her, moving to her neck to give her love bites of his own. “So pretty, angel…”

He could tell she was we getting close by the way she was lifting her hips into his hand, letting go of her wrists to grope her breasts through her shirt. “G-gonna cum, ahh!”

Fuck, his cock was growing hard again. He was making her feel good, he had her underneath him, squirming and moaning. This was everything he had imagined and more.

She came, holding onto his arm as she stared into his eyes, moaning out his name. “K-Kurapika! Pika! Pika!!”

He captured her lips again, slotting himself between her legs and grabbing the waistband of her panties. He didn’t care if being with her was bad, if he might leave one day, all he could think about right now was how much he loved her. Kurapika wanted to make love to her, bring her to the brink of pleasure and fill her up with his cum. He wanted to get her pregnant, wanted to hold her hand as he pounded into her dripping-

RING! RING!

Kurapika didn’t look up, continuing to kiss her and tug at her panties. (Name) opened her eyes, trying to turn her attention to her phone, but Kurapika turned her chin back towards him. “Ignore it, just focus on me.”

She whined into the kiss, gently pushing at his chest. “J-just a second, I need to check who’s calling.”

Kurapika scowled, but relented, letting her grab her phone. He sat back, trying to calm his racing heart as she glanced at the contact.

He noticed her face grow pale, and heard her curse under her breath. “Shit, sorry I have to take this.”

Kurapika’s frown only deepened, and he grabbed her wrist. “Is it really that important?”

She sighed, gently pulling away and walking out into the hallway as she tugged her pants back into place.

He watched, feeling his heart thump painfully against his chest, and his cock throb. Kurapika moved the hand he used to touch (Name) into his pants, using her juices to jerk off as she left to talk on the phone.

——————

“Chrollo, I told you not to call me when I’m home.”

She had walked outside, a cardigan hurriedly pulled on to keep her warm from the chilly morning air. The man on the other end laughed, and it only pissed her off.

“Oh, how unkind of you, (Name). And here I was, calling you to inform you that your target was in town.”

Her eyes widened, and she had to stop herself from yelling out. “H-he is?”

“Yeah, you can tell your little boyfriend now.”

(Name) looked down at the ground, remembering when Chrollo first told her the targets name.

FLASHBACK

(Name) placed the last bandage on Feitan, sighing softly. "Okay, you're good to go, Fei.

The dark haired man grunted in response, pushing himself off of the bed and walking out. ".. thanks."

She swiveled her head to see if he'd really thanked her, but he was gone. Instead of Feitan, Chrollo stood in the doorway, his usual suave smirk on his face. "I see you've finished up your duties, (Name)?

Chrollo leaned against the wall, watching her as she packed up. "Duties? What are you, a vampire from the Victorian era? I did my job, and now I'm leaving."

As she began to push past him, Chrollo spoke up.

"Leaving so soon? I thought you'd want to know where to find the next set of scarlet eyes."

She paused, glancing at him. "Just tell me, l'm not here to play games with you."

He laughed, handing her a slip of paper. "Here's the name of your next target."

Before (Name) could excitedly text Kurapika, Chrollo snatched her phone. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, (Name)."

"Hey, give me th-"

He handed her the phone back. "If you tell your little boyfriend the information now, he'll be on the next train to track this man down."

(Name) pouted, placing her phone in her back pocket. "No he wouldn't, we have plans for Halloween."

"Do you think he cares enough about your silly little plans to stick around when he could be completing his goals?"

She sighed. “I really regret venting to you."

Chrollo smiled. "Mhm, but am I wrong? What happened the last time he got a crumb of information?"

She looked away from him, clutching the fabric of her shirt. He took this as her acceptance of the situation and continued talking. "Besides, that man will be coming to your area in early November. It would be a shame for him to fly out to find the man, only to have to fly back to follow him."

Chrollo patted her shoulder. "You sure are patient, (Name). You're doing all of this for him. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly has he done to earn such loyalty from you?"

She didn't respond, walking past him and out of the room.

FLASHBACK END

“He’ll be in your town until this weekend. You should hurry and tell your little boyfriend.”

“He’s not-“

She was about to correct him, but then thought back to just a few minutes ago. Kurapika had been about to slip her panties off, getting ready to…

“Hmm? He’s not what?”

Chrollo seemed amused by your hesitance, but decided to cut you some slack. “Well, I assume you are busy, since it took me calling you several times for you to answer. Goodbye, (Name).”

He hung up without another word, leaving (Name) standing in her driveway, rethinking the events that led her to this.

‘What… what am I to Kurapika?’

———————

(Name) walked back into her room, shrugging off her cardigan and yelping when Kurapika grabbed her wrist and tugged her back into bed. He was on top of her within seconds, trying to pull off her shirt. “W-wait! We can’t, I have some news!”

“It can wait.”

He threw her shirt to the side, moving to unhook her bra next. “It’s about the scarlet eyes!”

Kurapika’s hands stopped, his fingers underneath the band of her bra. His eyes darted to hers, the scarlet slowly fading into the soft brown that she loved. “… you have new information on the eyes?”

She nodded, watching as he sat back up, moving off of her so she could pull her shirt back on. “Yeah, the person I just got off the phone with said a person with two pairs of the eyes is in town.”

The blonde sighed softly, the tent in his pajama pants still evident, but going down. “I see…”

He seemed a little shy now, glancing at her as he scooted to the edge of the bed. “We should… get ready then. Do you have their location?”

“Yes, they’re staying in a hotel uptown. We can sneak into their room and steal the eyes while they’re gone.”

Kurapika stood up, his cheeks a little pink. “Alright. I’ll meet you downstairs in 15 minutes.”

The two parted ways, (Name) going to take a shower, and Kurapika hiding away in his room to calm down his body and heart.

They met in the living room, both now dressed and calmed down. Things were a little awkward, but (Name) smiled and held onto his hand. “Okay, I told Leorio we’d be leaving. He’s a bit hungover but he’ll watch the kids.”

Kurapika squeezed her hand, his mind drifting back to their intimate moment earlier.

The drive uptown was mostly quiet, Kurapika keeping a possessive hand on her thigh. It was a subconscious act, something he wasn’t aware he was doing. “Kurapika…”

The blonde looked up, seeing (Name) glancing at him from the drivers seat. “I… Pika, what are we?”

Kurapika froze, his grip on her thigh tightening slightly. He didn’t answer, his head turning to stare at the window before he retracted his hand. “I don’t know what you mean.”

That was a lie, he knew exactly what she meant by that, but he didn’t have an answer.

She frowned. “I mean what is our relationship. Obviously we’re more than friends, for gods sake Kurapika, your hand was in my panties! I jerked you off!”

His face turned impossibly red. “I… I don’t want to talk about this.”

(Name) blinked in surprise. “Huh? Do you mean at all, or just not right now?”

“I don’t know!”

She flinched when he yelled, the blonde immediately regretting it. “(Name), I…”

“No, it’s alright. I… I understand.”

Kurapika looked back, his eyes widening when he saw the look of defeat on her face. She was gripping the steering will tight, as if trying to keep her tears from falling by sheer force alone. “It’s a okay, we… don’t have to… be anything. I’ll still…”

‘Does she… does she think that I’m trying to use her for sex?’

“(Name)… it’s not like that, I promi-“

“Please, stop. Don’t… let’s just focus on the mission.”

He stayed quiet, cursing himself for being so stupid. Kurapika promised himself that he’d try to clear things up later.

Unfortunately, the mission wouldn’t go smoothly enough for him to do such things.

——————

Kurapika and (Name) arrived at the hotel, posing as a couple renting a room. It was harder for her to play his partner this time, especially after their conversation on the way there.

The blonde seemed to notice this, trying his best to both give her space and play his part. Kurapika walked up to the counter to rent a room, letting (Name) wait in the lobby for him.

It was moments like these that made (Name) crave a relationship. She’d liked Kurapika since the Hunter Exam, and her fair share of fantasies about him. Some of them were sexual, but most were rooted in the desire to be with him.

She imagined holding his hand as they walked with their friends to look at Christmas lights, sharing kisses when no one was looking. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her he loved her too and would never leave her again.

God she didn’t want him to leave.

The thought of him only wanting her for sex made her feel awful, but if it meant he would never abandon her again, she would fulfill that role. These feelings, these thoughts weren’t healthy, but she didn’t know if she could take him leaving her. Not now, not after she’d fallen in love with him again.

‘I… I’m in love with him…’

Before, this thought would will her with butterflies and make her heart soar, but now it only filled her with dread. She cared about him, but Kurapika wasn’t someone that was easy to be in love with. He got himself into danger, he had severe anger issues and trauma that he held onto desperately. She didn’t even know if he wanted to heal, to settle down with her and find peace.

“(Name)? I got the room.”

He paused in front of her when he noticed tears falling down her face as she stared off into space. “Angel…”

He crouched down in front of her, cupping her cheeks and using his thumbs to brush her tears away. “What’s wrong, angel?”

(Name) blinked, seemingly snapping out her thoughts. “Huh? Kurapika?”

Kurapika stayed in front of her, his touch tender and gentle. “You… you were crying, (Name).”

“I was?”

She lifted her hand to touch her cheek, seeing that her finger was damp. “Oh… I guess I was.”

(Name) wiped her face and took a deep breath. “Never mind that, let’s get those eyes back.”

The two stepped into the elevator, (Name) glancing at her phone. “My informant said he’s on the 5th floor, room 301.”

Kurapika nodded and pressed the button for the 5th floor. The blonde attempted to start idle conversation a few times, but (Name) stayed quiet, her eyes focused on the ground.

“… it sure is cold outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

It was cold outside, but it was freezing in the elevator. (Name)’s warmth didn’t seem to reach him like it usually did.

The blonde cleared his throat, glancing at her. Even now, his mind was racing with the memories of their intimate moment earlier that day. They’d been so close to actually having sex, and now it seemed like the distance between them had grown so much that he wasn’t sure how to speak to her anymore.

‘I do want to be with her, but… I…’

Admitting that out loud was the hard part. Being with her, allowing himself to love her was an inherently selfish act. Just being in her life put her in danger, loving her, making her someone that was important to him could get her killed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the elevator doors opening, and before he had time to think (Name) was pulling him out by the hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kurapika followed her, and although he was still a little nervous, he couldn’t help but find comfort in the warmth of her hand.

——————

(Name) and Kurapika peeked around the corner, glancing at the room that held the scarlet eyes. “Okay, let’s think of a plan. I could sneak in through the-“

She turned to look at him, but he was already walking towards the room. “Kurapika!” she whisper yelled. (Name) was quick to follow after him, grabbing his sleeve when he stopped in front of the door.

He pulled his around away with a bit more force than necessary, breaking the handle off the door as he opened it. “We don’t have time for that, this is our only chance. The owner of the eyes could get back at any moment.”

She should have known he’d act like this, he always did when it came to the scarlet eyes. (Name) didn’t answer, only sighing. “I can’t see, where’s the light switch…”

She felt along the wall, finding the switch and flipping it. Light flooded the area, revealing a man sitting in the center of the room in a leather chair.

“Hello, ladies.”

(Name) screamed, jumping into Kurapika’s arms as the man calmly stood and stretched his leg. “… have you just been sitting here in the dark?”

“That doesn’t matter, why are you here?”

Kurapika held her close for a moment longer, almost as if he was trying to seek and give comfort before setting her on her feet. He kept a protective hold on her as he eyed the man, his gaze sharp and focused. “… we’re here for the scarlet eyes. Are you the owner of them?”

The man before him blinked, tilting his head towards the desk. On it set two pairs of the eyes on a stack of papers. “Oh, you talking about them paperweights? I thought you were here to take something important.”

Kurapika’s jaw clenched, (Name) having to grab his sleeve to prevent him from attacking.

“The boss bought those a while ago. Damn rich people, he thought it would show how well off he is to buy something so expensive just to use them as a paperweight.”

The man picked up a pair of the eyes, turning it around for a moment. “Tell you what, the boss barely even remembers he has these. I’ll give them to you, for a price.”

This is the outcome Kurapika had been hoping for. The blonde opened his satchel and showed the man it’s contents. It was stuffed full of money, enough to leave the man well off. “Is this enough?”

The man rubbed his hands together, laughing. “Oh yeah, that’s plenty. Come on, I’ll hand you the eyes, you hand me the money.”

Kurapika nodded, waiting for the man to pick up all of the eyes before he approached him.

The blonde paused for a second as he made eye contact with one of the pairs. (Name) could sense a shift in his mood, his heart thumping wildly, loud enough for her to hear. She caught him staring into the scarlet eyes. ‘Is that pair… special?’

It made her even more determined to help him tiger the pair, and she gently nudged Kurapika forward. He gave her an appreciative smile for her support before continuing on his way.

“Honestly, I’m glad to be rid of the nasty things. The boss brings them almost everywhere, they’re freaky looking. I bet whoever they belonged to were monsters.”

(Name) winced, knowing what was coming. It all happened so fast. First, Kurapika’s eyes turned a deep scarlet, but it seemed he was unaware of it. They hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so he’d forgotten to put in his contacts.

The man’s face dropped, his eyes widening in fear as Kurapika moved to attack, the man doing the same. By doing this, he let the eyes fall from his grip.

(Name) rushed forward, barely making it in time to catch the eyes and roll out of the way as their battle began. The man attacked Kurapika with his nen, making the blonde jump back. Kurapika spared a glance in (Name)’s direction to make sure she and the eyes were okay before he summoned his chains.

She set the eyes in a safe position before readying herself to fight. Before she could move forward, Kurapika yelled out. “Don’t come closer, stay back!”

(Name) huffed, standing guard in front of the eyes as the two battled it out.

“How dare you call them monsters! They were murdered in cold blood blood, their eyes ripped from their skulls! They did this to everyone, to children!”

(Name)’s heart ached for him. His voice was cracking, his eyes filling with angry tears.

“Kurapika…”

She tried to move forward to comfort him, but he pushed her back. “I said STAY BACK!”

She went flying, her arm catching on the sharp end of a table. It ripped through her sleeve, leaving a gash on her upper arm. Blood dripped onto the floor, the smell causing Kurapika to freeze.

This small moment was enough for the man to get the upper hand, kicking Kurapika in the chest as the blonde dealt his own punch to the man’s face. They were both sent sprawling to the floor, (Name) rushing over to kneel at Kurapika’s side.

“F-fuck, I heard something crack.”

Kurapika’s breathing was uneven, his hand tenderly running across his chest. “Kurapika, shit, I think he broke a few ribs!”

She activated her nen, holding her hands over his chest to begin healing him. “This is going to take a lot of stamina to heal, we’ll have to get the eyes and-“

“No, no we have to take him down!”

(Name) stared down at the blonde, feeling him try to sit up. “Kurapika, what the hell are you thinking? Let’s just retreat while we still c-“

“HE CALLED MY PEOPLE MONSTERS, (NAME)!”

She flinched, recoiling slightly. Kurapika sat up, coughing up blood. “I’m activating emperors time. Just get the fuck out of my way!”

“No!”

Kurapika paused, whipping his head around to glare at her. “No? What else can we do? He needs to die, I can’t-“

She pushed him back into his back, continuing to heal him. “Just give me a damn second! There… there is one thing I can do, and… and I’ll do it if you stay still and let me heal you, but-“

“Then do it! Do it now!”

The man was approaching them, his cheek and eye swollen. As he reached out to try and attack (Name), she grabbed his wrist, concentrating her nen there.

Kurapika watched as the man writhed in agony, the flesh on his arm turning purple, then black as it rotted away before turning into dust. It spread up to his shoulder before stopping, the man screaming and falling to the floor, tears falling down his face as he writhed.

Kurapika sighed, leaning back to relax. The man wasn’t a threat like that. “Ah, nice job (Name). You really-“

He looked up to see her lip bleeding as she bit into it, her face scrunched up. Kurapika could still feel her nen coursing through his body to mend his broken ribs. As soon as he was healed, she let out a scream, falling to the ground and writhing in pain.

“(NAME)!?”

Her eyes were squeezed shut as she wailed, her back arching. (Name) began to tremble, her body twisting in agony.

“(Name)! Please, what’s wrong? I-“

The sound of multiple sets of footsteps running down the fall made him pause.

“Hey, I think someone broke into the boss’ room!”

“Call back up!”

Kurapika cursed under his breath. “(Name), we have to get out of here! I’ll grab the eyes, and…”

She wasn’t answering, still sobbing as she clawed at the ground, her fingernails breaking and bleeding. When she couldn’t do that, she grasped her arms, her nails puncturing her skin, her chest heaving. “No! No stop!”

He pinned her arms down, using his chains to restrain her. Kurapika felt his chest tighten, his eyes darting to the hallway. (Name) couldn’t move in this state, how would he be able to get her and the eyes?

‘I… I can only take one…’

He glanced between her and the eyes, cursing to himself. Kurapika knew what he would pick, his eyes filling with tears.

He exited through the window, leaving something precious behind.

——————

The underground room’s lighting was dim, the air smelling musty and damp. (Name) was wearing her work uniform, glancing to the doorway before turning her attention to the creature in front of her.

“You’re not getting past me. I have a baby to protect,” she said cooly, letting her nen surge around her. The creatures claws glinted into the low light, it’s form being revealed to her.

It was mantis like, but colorful and pink, almost like… a flower. As it crept closer, (Name) could hear it muttering something. She felt her eyes go wide, terror overtaking her heart.

“No… no it can’t be!”

Sun filtered in through the window, shining down on (Name)’s sleeping face. She grunted in discomfort, her eyes shooting open.

(Name) panted softly, the nightmare still fresh in her mind. Right after the Chimera Ant incident, she had frequent nightmares about what went down in that underground room. Although the nightmares became less with time, they came back when she experienced severe stress.

That’s when the memories of the event came back. She attempted to sit up, but couldn’t. (Name) glanced around the room, calming down slightly when she realized she was in a hospital room. To her left there was a bouquet of flowers on a table, along with a basket of her favorite snacks and toiletries.

She smiled, knowing that Leorio had to have been the one that got it for her. Who else knew that she had a love for (snack)?

When she looked to the right, her eyes widened slightly. Sitting in a chair next to her bed, leaning over to look at her was Kurapika. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was an absolute mess.

When he saw she was awake, his breath hitched, eyes filling with tears. “Y-you’re awake!”

He squeezed her hand, lifting it to his cheek so he could fully feel her warmth. The past few days, she’d been cold, much too cold. Now, she was warm, her pretty (e/c) eyes looking at him in concern.

“K… Kura…”

Her throat was hoarse, and she was struggling to speak. Kurapika jumped in his seat, s quickly walking over to a small mini fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. “Here, you’ve been out for several… several days.”

He lifted her head, letting her sip slowly. The water helped to soothe her parched throat. Kurapika’s hand was a little shaky, so some water dribbled down her chin, making her shiver as it slipped under her shirt.

He pulled the bottle back, capping it before setting her head back onto the pillow. She blinked slowly, still adjusting to the bright light of the room.

“The… the eyes… did…”

Kurapika was silent, his foot tapping against the floor as she spoke. “… you passed out, and I had to carry you so no, I couldn’t get the scarlet eyes.”

There was a hint of resentment lacing his words, and she couldn’t help but feel bad. Although she’d been trying to help him, she still ended up being the reason he couldn’t recover the eyes.

“I left the eyes behind because… of you.”

‘It’s your fault.’

The words went unspoken, but (Name) knew what he meant. Kurapika’s face was pained, and she could remember the look of agony in his eyes when they met with one of the pairs of scarlet eyes. There had been something special about that pair, and she could tell he was upset.

“Now… now we won’t be able to get the eyes. They’ll be on high alert, making infiltration next to impossible.”

Kurapika put his head in his hands, letting out a sigh of frustration. (Name) looked away, gripping the hospital blanket keeping her warm.

“Why… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me about the condition you placed on your nen?!”

She flinched when he yelled at her, her lip quivering. “I-I tried to tell you when-“

“(Name), you should have told me way before we were in a life threatening mission! Jesus Christ, you could have died!”

(Name) stared at her blanket, sighing. “… and?”

Kurapika blinked, absolutely flabbergasted at her nonchalant attitude. “And..? (Name), you-“

“Why are you mad at me? Why didn’t you get the eyes?”

“Because I would have had to leave you!”

“See, that’s the part I’m not getting. Didn’t you say that if my death benefited your mission, you would let me die? You should have just left me behind…”

Kurapika stared at her, as if thinking her words over. ‘She’s not wrong, I did say that. And… and I meant it… didn’t I?’

When he was choosing between her and the eyes, the thought of leaving her alone to be captured or killed made his heart ache and his body tremble. It only took him a split second to decide. He couldn’t live without her.

And that was bad.

Part of him wanted so badly to console her, to let her now exactly how much she meant to him. But another part told him that letting himself love her, allowing her to help him and be close to him was only hurting her. So instead of giving sweet words and reassuring touches, Kurapika stood up and brushed off his pants.

“… I’m going back to the house. You’re awake now, I’ll alert a nurse on my way out. I’ll be back to pick you up in a few days.”

She watched him walk towards the door, sitting up slightly. “You’re leaving..?”

He paused in the doorway, not looking back. “… yes. Just lie back down and sleep.”

(Name)’s lip trembled and her eyes watered up as the door closed behind Kurapika. She was all alone in a hospital room, her only company the bouquet of flowers someone had left her.

———————

(Name) sat in her hospital room, munching on sugar free pudding. It tasted meh, but she was hungry.

It had been nearly two days since Kurapika left, and besides a few phone calls with Killua, she hadn’t had any company.

“I’m sorry I can’t come to see you, mom.” Killua said into the phone, his voice soft. (Name) laughed, trying to sound unbothered.

“It’s okay baby, I know going into hospitals is hard for you. Especially after…”

They both went silent, (Name) fiddling with the blanket. “… anyways, I’ll talk to you later. I’m going to take a nap before my X-ray.”

“Okay mom, I love you!”

“I love you too, baby.”

She sighed, placing her phone back on the charger. (Name) wondered who brought her charger there for her. Maybe Leorio?

A nurse knocked on the door, opening it shortly after. “Miss (Last Name)?”

(Name) looked up. “Yes?”

“You have a visitor!”

She felt her eyes widen, her heart fill with hope. She’d been so alone for the past two days, maybe Leorio or Kurapika had come to keep her company!

“Hello, (Name).”

Her face fell, a sigh escaping her lips. “… hello, Pariston.”

The man smiled, slipping into the room. He held a small planter filled with poppies, setting it next to the bouquet. (Name) found out that boquet was from Alluka earlier that day during her call with Killua, and she felt a little strange seeing a “gift” from Pariston next to it.

“What do you want?”

Pariston gave a fake pout, sitting in the chair next to her bed. “What do I want? How rude, I came here to make sure you were alright! I even brought your favorite flowers!”

(Name) huffed, bringing her cover up to her chest. “You never come to see me without a reason, and you don’t give people gifts. There’s always a catch.”

Pariston grinned that creepy grin of his, leaning his face against his hand. “Ahh, you’re not easy to fool, are you (Name)? I think you know why I’m here.”

She nodded, glancing down at her arm. It was bandaged, but her wounds were almost completely healed. “Were you the person that sent the Enhancer to speed up my healing? I thought I told you not to tell anyone I can’t heal myself anymore!”

Pariston paused, his smile fading. “Enhancer? No, I didn’t send anyone. That’s…” he thought for a moment, then laughed. “I think I know who did it though.”

“Tell me!”

“Nope~ if they didn’t tell you already, they don’t want you to know.”

The man smiled, his expression becoming more neutral. “Back on topic, you know why I’m here. You used your ability again.”

Her grip tightened on her blanket. “I did, and as you can see, the condition still works. If I use my ability against someone and it causes them pain, I experience that pain tenfold.”

Pariston nodded. “Yeah, I see that it works. You still used your ability though, and as you know, that goes against your orders.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “You aren’t the Chairman anymore, so that order is null and void.”

“It is, but Chairwoman Cheadle is going to be contacting you within an hour to reinstate that order.”

“And if I don’t agree to it?”

They stared at each other for a moment, before Pariston glanced at the poppies he brought. “You would do best to follow orders, if you value the friends you have left.”

(Name)’s eyes widened, the area around her buzzing with her nen. “… are you threatening me?”

Pariston, who had stepped out of her range smiled, heading towards the door. “You know I’m not above using threats to get what I want. Just agree to Chairwoman Cheadle’s proposal, and everything will be okay.”

And with that, he was gone. (Name) was left trembling and struggling to control her nen. As he said, Cheadle called her within an hour to make the new order.

And with her friends’ lives on the line, how could she refuse?

——————

On her third day awake at the hospital, (Name) got a phone call from Leorio. “Hey sunshine, make sure you get packed up because Kurapika and Killua will be coming tonight to pick you up.”

She sighed in relief. (Name) was on her last pair of clean panties, and was glad she’d get to go home and see her friends again.

And so she could enact her plan. “Okay, thanks for the heads up Leorio! I’ll make sure I’m all packed up!”

(Name) sighed, hanging up after a short goodbye and glancing at her phone.

‘It’s moving again…’

She sighed softly, thinking back to their failed mission. While Kurapika and the man had been busy fighting, she put a tracker on one set of the eyes, knowing that something could go awry when Kurapika’s anger entered to picture.

(Name) moved about her room, packing up her clothes and carrying her flowers and basket downstairs when she got a text from Killua saying they were on their way.

It was nearly dark as (Name) stepped out into the cold autumn evening. She watched the sunset as she waited, shivering. She wasn’t sure who packed her overnight bag, but not a single thing besides her zip up hoodie was appropriate for the weather.

She sighed in relief when the mom van pulled up to the hospital, but raised her eyebrow when it nearly crashed into a column then parked crookedly. ‘Is Kurapika drunk?’

She carried her things to the van, stopping when the drivers door opened. (Name) nearly dropped her things when Killua stepped out of the drivers side. “K-Killua? Why are you driving the van? Did Kurapika leave?”

“No, he’s at home. He didn’t leave, I left him.”

(Name) blinked, feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. It was Kurapika.

She answered her phone. “Hello!”

“Killua isn’t answering his phone, he took off in the van!”

“I’m well aware. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

She hung up before he could continue. Killua was about to laugh, but she gave him a look that shut him up. “Killua, you shouldn’t worry Kurapika like that. It’s not nice.”

The white haired boy shrunk under her gaze, his shoe kicking at a rock. “Sorry, mom… I just… I just didn’t like that… you were here all alone, and wanted to come get you so we could… spend some time together….”

Her expression softened as she reaches out to gently cup his cheeks. His eyes widened, his cheeks turning pink as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Thank you, that’s very sweet of you. I… I have something I have to do before we can spend time together though.”

Killua tilted his head, watching her pull out her phone and turn it towards him. “I placed a tracker on one of the pairs of the scarlet eyes.”

Killua laughed, grinning. “Mom, you’re badass!”

She smiled back, grabbing the keys from him. “Let’s get going, Killua. I’ve got some eyes to steal.”

——————

Kurapika cursed, dropping his phone onto his bed. His foot tapped at the floor in agitation as he thought back over his last interaction with (Name). He’d left her all alone at the hospital, and just the thought of it made his chest ache.

He rubbed at his eyes, a soft sigh leaving his lips. ‘I had to leave, I… I was so tired and angry, I… I didn’t want to snap… at her…’

Unbeknownst to (Name), the blonde had stayed awake for nearly four days watching over her. He was filled with anxiety and dread, guilt eating him alive. Kurapika wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep until he knew she was okay. It was his fault this ever happened to her after all, and if he’d just listened to her explanation maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

It was almost a form of self harm, restricting his food and sleep to make up for hurting her. The gash on her arm made him want to vomit, he promised himself he’d never hurt her again, and here she was. In a hospital bed, all because of him.

But by the time she woke up, he’d overthought the situation into the dirt, his mind exhausted. He wanted to blame her, the mean and nasty side of his coming out. Before he could take out his anger and pain on her, he left. It broke his heart when she asked if he was leaving.

‘Why… why am I so agitated about not getting that specific set of scarlet eyes?’

It’s not like he hadn’t failed missions before. He lost several pairs over the two years they’d been apart, but he would usually be able to recover them. This time he didn’t know if it was possible, so it pissed him off even further.

In his heart he knew she wasn’t at fault, after all without her he wouldn’t have even been able to TRY to get the pair in the first place. He couldn’t help but almost resent her though, for being so important to him. The thought of leaving her behind made him heave, his heart ache and his body freeze.

This was what he feared, falling in love with her and being unable to live without her. That attachment was a hindrance to his mission, and he wanted to hate her for it.

But he just couldn’t.

Thinking of her, her pretty face when she slept so soundly those four days made his heart race. He could go without food, without sleep if it meant he could look at her for forever. Leorio begged him to take a break, to come home so he could rest. Kurapika said no every time, clinging to her hand.

“No, no I’m not leaving her. She’s mine, back off.”

If only he could say those kinds of things here (Name) was awake.

He cursed himself for being a coward, laying back into his bed and looking up at the ceiling. There were little glowing stars stuck up there. He could faintly remember mentioning to (Name) that staring at the stars helped him sleep when he missed home. He had fallen asleep under the starry night sky with Pairo next to him more times than he could count.

It was comforting, really. Not the stars, no, it was the fact that name hung them up there to make him feel more at home that made his heart melt in his chest. She truly was the epitome of kindness and love.

Kurapika knew he didn’t deserve her, she’d probably live a much better life with someone like Leorio or hell, even some of the other hunters like Kite or Knuckle.

But he was selfish. The thought of another man touching her, loving her made his eyes flare with a bright scarlet. He hated this possessive part of himself. In his mind, he knew it was better to let her go and distance himself as much as possible for her safety and happiness.

However, his heart was sitting in the palm of her hand. He wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon. Not voluntarily.

———————

(Name) drove around town, following the tracker as Killua yelled out directions. “Turn left!”

Eventually, the tracker was blinking in the same spot, and had been for the past five minutes. (Name) parked the mom van at a random gas station a short distance away before getting out.

When Killua began to follow her, she turned quickly. “Baby, no. I’m going in alone, you can’t come with me.”

Killua frowned, crossing his arms. “Why? Are you babying me, mom? I’m an assassin, I have much more experience in this type of thing than-“

“But you shouldn’t!”

Killua paused, his eyes widening slightly. “Mom…”

Her eyes were a little teary, her lip quivering. “You shouldn’t be used to killing, Killua, and when you’re with me, that will never be your burden to bear.”

She hugged him tight, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll be back within an hour, then we’ll go get burgers. That sound good, bud?”

He nodded slowly, burying his face into her shoulder. “Yeah…”

After giving him another tight squeeze, she left, the smile on her face dropping as soon as she turned around.

(Name) shivered from the cold, glancing down at her phone to follow the tracker. It seemed it was stopped at a restaurant, a Waffle House to be specific. Was the owner of the eyes… eating at Waffle House? Why would be bring the eyes with him?

‘He’s probably all packed up to go home.’

That explanation made sense, and (Name) picked up the pace. When she got there, she followed the tracker to a black Mercedes parked in the back. She could have just used her nen to disintegrate the back of the car and take the eyes, but (Name) wanted to confront the man.

People that contributed to Kurapika’s agony needed to be dealt with. His trauma was so intense he couldn’t trust people, he couldn’t even trust her. If she was being honest, this was a good opportunity to let out all of the frustration and anger she’d been keeping inside of her.

The man walked out of the back door. He was short and stout, carrying a takeout back and talking with someone over the phone. (Name) stood by his car, silent.

The man noticed her, but seemed to not acknowledge her as a threat. He pocketed his phone, setting his takeout bag on the sidewalk. “You homeless? I ain’t got nothing for you, be on your way.”

He shooed at her, but (Name) didn’t budge. She looked up, the good of her jacket covering everything but the bottom half of her face. “You have a pair of the scarlet eyes, yes?”

The man suddenly seemed a lot less smug, reaching for his phone. (Name) rushed forward, covering his mouth and taking his phone. “Don’t. Scream, and I’ll kill you.”

She waited for him to stop struggling before she pulled her hand from his mouth. “Answer.”

“I-I do, but you can have them! Just don’t hurt me!”

(Name) stayed quiet, as the man unlocked his car and offered the eyes to her. She nearly threw up at the state of Kurapika’s family.

The containers were tipped over, the glass covered in filth. She look them into her arms, holding them tight as she gave the man a disgusted look. “You know these are the body parts of people that were once alive, right? How dare you treat them with such disregard!”

Her eyes widened at the sight of a gun in the man’s hand. She had felt it on him when she searched him a minute before, so he must of had it hidden in his car. She was too busy being disgusted over the state he kept Kurapika’s family in to keep track of him.

“Who cares, they’re dead and gone. I heard those filthy Kurtas were involved in witchcraft, that’s how they got those demonic red eyes.”

The man grinned down at her, pressing the gun into the back of her head. “That doesn’t matter, though. You’ll be joining them soon. Hell, I’ll take your eyes too. They’re a nice (e/c) color.”

As he clicked the safety off, (Name) looked into the scarlet eyes. False rumors and discrimination against anything that was different from the norm was the reason Kurapika’s family was dead, that and the human nature to take what they wanted no matter the consequences.

Before she met Kurapika, (Name) had heard the rumors of the Kurta Clan being demonic and evil, getting their red eyes from eating human flesh or killing innocents. The story was different every time she heard it, so she stopped believing in it. She remembered how people treated her differently because of how she looked and parts of her body and identity she couldn’t change. It was the reason she felt no fear when Kurapika’s eyes first turned scarlet.

She knew how kind Kurapika was, and heard the stories of his people and family. They were good, kind people, and they didn’t bother anyone. Despite hiding away from the outside world, they were still targeted and massacred. They couldn’t even live freely alone, they had to be taken out. She wasn’t sure if it was because of greed or if people were scared of them. Both reasons were stupid to (Name).

Within a flash, the gun was knocked out of the man’s hand and (Name) was on top of him, slamming her fists into his face. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”

Tears fell down her face, not of sadness, but of absolute anger. “You didn’t know them, they were people, people who loved their families and wanted to be safe and happy, just like everyone else!”

She wasn’t going to use her nen. It wasn’t even because of the order given to her by Cheadle and Pariston. No, she wanted to draw this out. This man was one of the reasons for Kurapika’s pain, he treated the bodies of the dead as if they were items to collect, items to show off to other people as if they were a prize.

Whenever Kurapika showed up at her apartment in York New, it’s when she became determined to gather the scarlet eyes to help him find peace. The way he cried and sobbed into her shirt like a child until he passed out from exhaustion chilled her to the bone.

She had seen the result of Kurapika’s nightmares, heard the gut wrenching screams of despair. She couldn’t let a person who disregarded that pain live.

She stood up, bringing her foot down onto his crotch. “You don’t deserve to live, you use your money to get what you want, you kill and order others to kill for you without any guilt!”

The man screamed in agony, but he was soon silenced when her sneaker came down on his face. Something came over her, she stomped on his face over and over, blood spraying on the sidewalk and splashing onto her face and clothes.

She kept going, even after there was nothing left of his head but mush. (Name) probably would have never stopped, but someone gently pulled her back, far enough away so that she couldn’t continue her actions.

“Mom… he’s dead.”

Killua had his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back more. She didn’t answer Killua, didn’t say a single word.

Many didn’t know this, but when he was nervous, Killua would prattle on and on. “Hey, that guy sucked. It’s good your first kill was someone that deserved ut, I wasn’t as lucky!”

He doesn’t seem to notice the way she stared at the corpse, eyes blank. “You know, for an amateur, that wasn’t half bad. You got a little sloppy at the end though. If you want it end then fast, there’s a soft spot on the skull. Going for the neck just paralyzes them. Unless you wanted to drag it out in which case, not bad.”

Once he noticed she was speaking, just staring blankly at the man she just killed, Killua went quiet for a moment. He grabbed her sleeve, pulling her away. “It’s… it’s not good to think too much about it.”

She finally looks up when crouches next to the body, using two fingers to lift the man’s sleeve. “What should we do with the body? Want me to toss his body in the lake so we can be accountable together?”

It was his attempt at a joke, trying to get his mom to laugh instead of stare blankly at the corpse below her.

“Don’t bother. Scum like him deserves to rot out in the open. Let the birds pick him clean.”

With that, he realized that killing that man has actually fucked her up. Something that completely altered her brain chemistry is just a normal Tuesday night for him.

It made his chest ache a little, but he sighed before looking down at the body, shrugging and standing up. “Alright, it’s your kill. Your rules.”

The two walked towards the van, each carrying a set of the eyes. “They’re… heavier than you’d think.” Killua said, trying to lighten the mood again.

Maybe it was the actual weight of them, or the knowledge that these eyes belonged to someone Kurapika knew and loved. Even Killua could understand the importance of these eyes, he had seen the exact same shade in Kurapika’s eyes.

After finally reaching the van, (Name) spoke for the first time since taking the man’s life.

“Sorry you had to witness that…”

Killua perked up immediately, feeling a strange since of relief that she was finally speaking.

“You got a little messy at the end if I’m being honest. But that first move was pretty smooth, and I’ve seen more red splatters in my Uber Eats bag after ordering tomato soup. If that was you, I’d give you at least 4 stars and a 20% tip.”

She froze, setting the pair of eyes in the van before throwing up onto the pavement. Killua jumped, setting eyes in the car before rushing over to hold her hair back. “Shit!”

He had been trying to help, but Killua feared he may have just ruined tomato soup for her for the foreseeable future. After she finally stopped, she coughed, shivering in the cold and looking up at him weakly.

“I’m sorry hun, I-“

“Stop apologizing already. You’ve looked after me for years, let me look after you for once. You said yourself it’s okay to need help sometimes.”

Killua left for a second, returning with some crumpled napkins she kept in the car. He wiped her mouth, then tossed the dirty napkin onto the ground. (Name) was too exhausted to scold him for littering, allowing him to help her to her feet.

She stumbled her way to the backseat, shrugging off her jacket and using it to gently wipe away any blood or filth from the cases holding the scarlet eyes.

She sighed softly. “Killua… baby…”

He looks up, seeing her taking the keys from her pocket. “Do you know the way home?”

He’s allowed to drive? Sure, he practiced before without her knowledge (or at least he thought- plus there was that time Leorio let him do donuts in the mall parking lot at night last month) but she was allowing him to drive the mom van? Even if he was going to be legally old enough for a drivers license next year anyway, it still didn’t feel real.

He just wished it was under better circumstances. Killua took the keys, nodding slowly. “Yeah, yeah I know the way.”

Killua couldn’t even be excited about getting to drive the car, because (Name)’s hand were trembling and she looked like she was going to throw up again. “I’m trusting you, Killua…”

Her trust was supposed to feel good, but right now it almost felt like a burden. Heavy. Killua took a deep breath, deciding to think of something else. He had a job to do, he needed to get his mom home. (Name) trusted him to do it.

He glanced at her, his eyebrow raising slightly at the sight of her using her jacket to cover the eyes.

“You aren’t gonna keep your jacket on? It’s 40°.”

He heard her mutter something something respect for the dead before wrapping the eyes in her blood stained jacket and holding them close to her. Once upon a time, these eyes were alive. It wouldn’t feel right to treat them as anything less than human.

(Name) curled up in the passenger seat, holding the eyes in a protective grip as her eyes stared out the window. It had began to rain, and Killua’s hand was shaking as he started the engine.

“You’re going to be freezing.”

“Turn the heat on.”

“But-“

“Killua, dead or alive this was still a person. They deserve to be able to rest comfortably.” This was the most she had spoken the whole ride home. Killua sighs.

“…okay. I’ll have to wait until a red light though, I don’t feel comfortable searching the dashboard while I’m in motion,” she hummed in acknowledgment, shivering as she held the eyes closer to her.

“We should get you a cupcake to celebrate your first kill, it was gnarly! His whole head was like a watermelon and you were all bam! POW! POP! you know?”

“…”

“Oh shit, I mean, wanna get burgers? It’s two dollar Tuesday.”

After a few minutes of silence, Killua spoke up again.

“… want me to kill the next one so we can be even?”

“No, no that’s okay. Let’s go get burgers now.”

———————

When he pulled in for burgers, it was like trying to re-establish some sense of normalcy. Like gathering the energy to brush your teeth when your best friend just died. Trying to find comfort in the mundane.

He ordered them food, even something for Kurapika, and a hint of a smile appeared on her face. “You remembered my order…”

“Of course I did, you always get the same thing! A little boring but oh well.”

Killua tapped away at the steering wheel nervously. He kept saying things randomly, blurting out things that made her nauseous or upset. He hated that he felt the need to fill the silence left between the two. It was instinctual, because when he was a child, silence either meant you were in trouble or you were about to be scolded.

And his family’s version of scolding was violent.

He knew she wasn’t in any state to cook, so grabbing burgers was their best bet. Though, Killua wasn’t sure she’d even be able to eat.

Killua sighed, and hopped out of the van. He came back a few minutes later with Kurapika running at his heels, scrambling to open the door. (Name) almost fell forward from the sheer velocity he tore it open, holding onto the eyes for dear life in case she she tumbling out. Thankfully, Killua had enough sense to push her back a little, noticing how cold she was to the touch.

Kurapika noticed her hands were covered in blood. She didn’t want to get blood on his clan’s eyes, and he knew despite never having met you, if his relatives were still around to see the gesture today, they’d be touched. Always putting everyone else’s comfort ahead of her own.

“These… they’re the… they’re the eyes I left behind.”

He pushed the hood out of the to the side just bough to read the inscription on the top for a confirmation. It’s the same number as the one the two missed last week. As sickening as it was that they numbered each of them like a rare commodity, it soothed him a little knowing he wouldn’t be stuck wondering what happened to that specific pair, especially considering how connected he felt to the pair on the left.

Without another word, he took the eyes and walked inside. Killua watched, figuring he would thank her once he put the eyes somewhere safe.

The white haired boy helped (Name) inside, sitting her on the couch. She stared at the floor, still shivering from the cold. At least, Killua hoped it was from the cold.

He waited 10 minutes for Kurapika to come out and say something, anything to (Name). She just killed someone, put herself through trauma for him.

Eventually, Killua stormed towards Kurapika’s room, throwing the door open to see the blonde sitting on the bed and staring at one of the pairs, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Killua couldn’t care less about Kurapika right now, his mother, the woman that took him in and kept him safe when no one else would was in a state of agony, trying to process the knowledge that she just ended a human’s life.

“What the fuck are you doing? Do you realize what (Name) just did to get those eyes for you?”

Kurapika looked up, wiping at his face. “She… what did she do? She’s not hurt, is she?”

Killua scoffed. “You didn’t even bother to check if she was hurt? Jesus Christ Kurapika get your priorities straight! Those eyes aren’t alive anymore, they can wait 5 god damn minutes so you can make sure the woman you supposedly “love” is okay!”

Kurapika’s eyes flashed red, his fist clenching. “Don’t act like you understand me, Killua. These eyes-“

“Shut up! Shut up and go do something to comfort her! Can’t you understand she did this all for you, that she killed for you!?”

Kurapika’s heart nearly stopped, his eyes going wide as they faded back to their soft brown color. “… kill?”

Killua nodded, his hands clenched into fists. “Yeah, and it really fucked her up! She… she stared at the corpse, and threw up on the way home…”

Kurapika moved past Killua, running down the stairs. The throw blanket that Killua had covered (Name) with lied in the middle of the floor, and he could hear the sink running.

“(Name)..?”

She was in the kitchen, bent over the sink washing a glass cup and staring into it listlessly. It was clean, and he watched her for a moment before walking closer.

He took the cup from her gently, his eyes widening when he saw the state of her hands.

Her knuckles were split and bruised and her hands were trembling. She was in pain, but it didn’t show on her face.

Kurapika almost wanted her to be angry that he didn’t immediately check on her. Anything was better than seeing the vibrant woman he fell in love with look so… empty.

He watched as she continued the washing motions, even though the cup was gone.

“(Name)…”

Tears fell down his cheeks as he gently held her hands in his, pulling him to her chest as he held her close to him. “Please… you… you didn’t have to do that for me. Why… why do you keep putting yourself in danger to help me when you get nothing in return? I… I don’t understand…”

(Name) was quiet for a moment, her eyes still fixated on the same spot in the sink. “… I love you, Kurapika. That’s… why…”

(Name) had told Kurapika she loved him several times, but this time it felt different. Her love weighed heavy on his chest, a testament of how far she would go to try and lift his burdens off his shoulders.

Leorio had been right, she was in love with him.

“No… no! No don’t love me! You… you can’t love me!”

He shook her, full on sobbing now. “Please… can’t you see loving me is only hurting you? I’m on a path that no one should follow me on, especially you! You’re…”

‘You’re too important.’

She finally looked up to meet his eyes. “I know. I’m useless, I’m too weak and I’ll never be enough for you… that’s what you wanted to say in the car on our way to get the eyes last week, isn’t it? You wanted to say you didn’t… feel the same way I did…”

He wanted to deny what she was saying, to ease the absolute agony in her eyes, but he couldn’t speak. Kurapika was choking up, his hands gripping her shoulders so tightly he knew that there would be bruises there later. Neither seemed to care.

“Kurapika…”

She pushed his hands away, walking towards the stairs. “My… my heart… this entire weak, it felt like it was breaking. I love you so much, I really… I really thought there might be a day where we could be together…”

(Name) thought about every instance where he abandoned her, berated her, left her to chase after the Phantom Troupe or scarlet eyes. Him not even checking up on her after she walked in, covered in blood and barely hanging on had been the breaking point.

“I’ve always known I could never be the most important thing in your life…”

She looked back at him, tears finally falling from her blank eyes. “But I at least thought that I was something to you. Guess not.”

Kurapika watched as she walked upstairs, his eyes wide with terror. Before he could chase after her, Killua grabbed his arm, shaking his head. “No, leave her be. She needs some time to be alone.”

The blonde’s face was still a mess, tears rolling down his cheeks. Killua wasn’t the best at comforting others, especially when he didn’t like them all that much.

But (Name) loved Kurapika, so Killua walked over to the takeout bag and handed the blonde a burger. “Here, we picked up dinner on the way home,” he said softly, looking away.

Kurapika stared down at it, feeling his heart thump painfully against his chest. Even when she was at her worst, (Name) made sure that they would all be fed.

‘I’m so fucking selfish.’

—————————

(Name) fell into a restless sleep once she fell into her bed. She was emotionally and physically exhausted, and hadn’t even bothered to take off her bloody clothing.

She tossed and turned, finally able to sleep somewhat decently a little past midnight.

(Name) hadn’t been expecting to have anything but nightmares that night, but instead of the images of the man she murdered flashing in her mind, she felt… peaceful.

A field of poppies stretched around her as far as she could see. When she looked around, she noticed she was sitting at a bench, an empty teacup in her hands.

“You’ll catch a cold, dear.”

A jacket was draped over her shoulders. (Name) hadn’t noticed before, but the air was chilly, and she was shivering. “Th-thank you…”

Warmth spread through her body, and she could feel someone sitting beside her, their leg touching hers. “You’ve had a long week, haven’t you?”

The voice was soft and feminine, a hint of concern lacing her words. A hand was placed on her leg, the person’s touch gentle, yet firm. She noticed she couldn’t turn her head to look at the person next to her, but that didn’t scare or concern her. (Name) felt strangely comforted by the woman’s presence, finally able to relax. “Yes… it was… not easy.”

“Not easy is an understatement. You’ve been under a lot of stress, forced to bear all of this pain alone.”

Tears began to fall from (Name)’s eyes. It had been difficult to contain her turbulent emotions for the past week, no, for the past two years. She felt like she just had her heart broken all over again.

“I… I love him so much… I want him to be happy, I want to give-“

The woman gently held her hands that gripped the teacup. “You can’t give when your cup is empty, dear. Let yourself be filled back up, before you try and give more.”

The teacup filled up with with a steaming, amber liquid. “Go ahead, drink. Tea is good for the soul.”

(Name) raised the cup to her lips, taking a sip. It was perfectly sweet, with a peachy aftertaste. It helped calm her nerves, and clear her mind.

The warmth of the woman’s hands caressed her cheek, wiping away (Name)’s tears. “Thank you… I-“

(Name) was finally able to turn her head to look at the woman, but all she caught was a glimpse of blonde hair and a pleasant smile.

She woke up, noticing the chill in the air. However, she wasn’t cold. (Name) was tucked under her blanket, wearing a pair of clean pajamas and fuzzy socks on her feet.

‘I wonder… who got me changed…’

(Name) began to get up, ready to make breakfast for everyone when she remembered the woman’s words.

“You can’t give when your cup is empty, dear. Let yourself be filled back up, before you try and give more.”

Instead of getting up, (Name) curled up under her blanket, texting Killua that he could either make himself a bowl of cereal or order some takeout for breakfast.

She spent the early morning sleeping in, allowing herself some much needed rest.

[clintbartonswife]

i achoo you

Pairings: Peter Parker x Wade Wilson Summary: Peter is sick and Wade is smitten. Whumptober prompt #26 : working to exhaustion / 'you look awful' Notes: i love this pairing so much ill cry. (also, peter is mid 20s) masterlist   || whumptober2023

"I'm totally 100% definitely dying."

Peter stretched out on the couch, sniffling woefully. His phone was pressed against his left cheek, sticky with sweat.

"Is it that even possible?"

"Yes. Yes it is. And I've got two college essays due in this wee-ee- ACHOO"

Matt let out a laugh, "You know spiders cant actually sneeze?"

"Lucky for the-em- ACHOO"

"This is pathetic, even for you."

"Wow, thanks Red. This is the last time I ever call you for advice."

"Yet you'll call me next week over a stubbed toe no doubt."

Peter could practically hear the eye roll in his voice, frowning as shivers once again decided to wrack his body.

"I dont have any other semi-responsible friends that I can talk to, and I - I dont want to bother May -"

"Dont make me feel sorry for you, or I'll really regret sending the backup."

Peter groaned, "Oh god, who?"

"Blasphemy - and he should be arriving any time now. Foggy's just arriving at the office so I've got to go. Drink lots of water, okay?"

Matt hung up before he could answer, a knock at the door occurring seconds later.

"It's op-ehh-eehhh-ACHOO"

"Say it, don't spray it baby boy!"

Peter groaned again, louder this time, and threw his arm across his eyes. "Why you?"

"That's not a nice way to greet someone bringing you soup!"

Peter made a pathetic noise, halfway between a sniffle and a cough, moving his arm so he could sneak a peek at the merc as he made himself at home in the kitchen.

"That's a pathetic excuse for an apology, but I'm willing to accept it due to your pretty face." Wade was humming quietly to himself as he rummaged around in the cupboard, taking out a bowl with flair and transferring the soup in to it in one smooth motion.

"That wa-aa-as -" Peter paused a moment, waiting to see if the sneeze was about to escape him, continuing as the urge dissipated, "was the most elegant thing I've ever seen you do."

"I dont fuck around with my food," He replied, walking towards the couch, "Unless it's in a sexy-I'm-going-to-lick-chocolate-off-your-body-way, which I'm totally down for any time."

"Charming." Peter rolled his eyes, fighting against his tired muscles and moving into an uneasy sitting position.

"Always for you, baby b- wow. Petey pie, you look awful."

Peter let out a hoarse laugh, accepting the soup with a sarcastic smile.

"Not holding back, huh?"

Wade collapsed backwards on to the ratty futon opposite the couch, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. After wiggling in to a comfortable position, he lifted his mask to just under his nose and popped a bright pink unicorn lollipop into his mouth. "So, how did the amazing spider-man come down with the common cold? I thought you were immune to shit like that."

Peter shrugged, gulping down the soup.

Wade looked around the room for a few moments, sucking loudly on the lollipop. "How about this for a theory: you worked your pretty little butt off, on your daily patrols, part time job and now... college?"

Peter paused his eating for a moment, "Bio-chem."

"Smart and sexy, the whole package!"

"How you find me sexy right now, I have no idea."

Wade slurped extra loudly on the lollipop, looking Peter up and down. "Those hello kitty pyjama pants look good on you. Plus I can't get sick."

"Is that so?"

"Scientifically proven, baby boy. My skins so fucked up because my cells are dying and reproducing every second. Ergo, can't get sick."

"That... proven how, exactly?"

"Trial and error." At Peter's questioning look, he smirked, "There's only so many times you can regrow the majority of your body and not realise that something's funky."

"Funky is one word fo-oor-ACHOOO."

Wade jumped up from his seat, running to his bag and pulling out a disney themed box of tissues. "I came prepared!"

"Princesses? Really?"

"Yes, and look there you are!" He replied, pointing at Cinderella.

"Okay... I'm going to need an explanation."

"She's broke, you're broke. Twins!"

Peter rolled his eyes, though accepted the tissues. Wade laughed, "I guess you're just lucky that I'm here, your knight in shining armour, offering to be your sugar daddy."

"Oh god - don't phrase it like that. I've been getting by on my own just fine, tha-ahhh-ahhh-"

"Bless you."

Peter glared at him. "You jinxed me."

Wade pouted, "Want me to kiss it better?"

At this, Peter threw the tissue box, successfully hitting him in between the eyes.

"Ow!"

Peter grumbled something under his breath, placing the empty soup bowl on the table and burying himself once more into the couch.

"I take back the Cinderella comparison. You're much more like Grumpy Peg-Leg Pete."

Wade laughed at the offended noise emanating from the sofa, finishing his lollipop with a satisfied sigh and jumping up from his seat. "Well, if my assistance is no longer needed..."

"Wait."

Wade grinned, holding his hand up to his ear mockingly, "Sorry what was that? I didn't quite hear you."

Peter huffed, sticking his head fully out of his blankets, enunciating his words clearly. "Don't leave... please."

Wade's grin widened, throwing himself on to the end of the couch, grabbing Peter's feet and placing them on his lap. "I knew you needed me Petey Pie."

"How did you know," the boy replied, sarcasm strong in his tone, "I want you, I need you, oh baby, baby."

The merc's smile didn't drop, relaxing into the chair as he began massaging one of the spider's feet. "Jokes on you, your sarcasm just turns me on more."

"You're insatiable."

"For you? Yes. I'm all the big words. Unquenchable, titillated, concupiscent." He gave a look off to the side, "Thanks for the tutoring Prodigy."

"You -" Peter tried to see what he was looking at, writing it off as one of Deadpool's quirks, "whatever. You missed a word though: persistent."

"How else am I going to get you to admit your deep and passionate love for me?"

Peter rolled his eyes, though didn't offer a rebuttal, instead allowing himself to melt into the pillows as Wade's fingers methodically worked out all the tension in his feet. He let out a sigh, arm thrown over his eyes once again as he willed for the grogginess to leave.

"What's troubling you, baby boy?"

"College essay is due in three days and I still haven't started it."

"Oh?"

"'S all about chemical bonding agents and I - aaaACHOO -" He paused, using his webs to grab the tissue box from across the room and blowing his nose with a pathetic lack of energy before continuing. "I just think that if I think too long about one thing I might die."

"And you can't get an extension?"

"No."

"What about if Bea and Arthur ask?"

"You're not going to threaten my professor with your katanas."

Wade sighed dramatically, but let the issue drop. Now bored, he began to tap out the tune of Grace Kelly on Peter's legs, humming quietly under his breath.

In that moment, the weird domesticity of the scene hit the student, peaking out from under his arm to watch Wade. It felt comfortable, safe in a way that he hadn't felt since developing his powers. He felt cared for. Loved.

Eyes flaring slightly, he pushed that thought away.

"Thank you, 'Pool."

"Hm?"

"Thank you. For coming to look after me."

"Anything to spend time with you and your tight little ass, Petey!"

He snorted, rolling his eyes fondly at the intentional lewdness, gently kicking his chest with his foot. "I mean it."

Wade pressed both hands to his cheeks, shoulders raising as he let out a squeal. "Oh em gee, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"This is what I get for trying to be serious -"

To Peter's surprise, Wade paused for a moment. When he next spoke, it was with a certain genuineness that he rarely heard from the merc. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. There's nothing to thank."

Breath caught in his chest, Peter allowed himself to sit up, looking at Wade with new eyes. Without even realising it, his hands had moved to lie on the edges of the mask, waiting for an answer.

"Webs -"

He could feel Wade's breath brush along his palms, finally removing the mask as the merc let out a hesitant nod.

Wade's eyes were blue, deep and endlessly curious.

Mask laid to the side, Peter's eyes rushed to drink in every detail of the man's face, fingers moving across the textured surface with barely restrained admiration.

"I think you're my favourite person."

The confession escaped him, surprising even him with the certainty behind the words.

Wade's eyes sparkle when they smile.

"You're going to make me blush, baby boy."

His eyes flickered to his lips.

"Did you mean what you said... about not caring that I'm sick?"

Wade's eyes widened, wordlessly nodding.

"Good."

Their lips clashed together with unbridled passion, Peter pushing away any doubt he held on to and clinging on to Wade's deceptively strong arms for balance.

The merc met him eagerly, gleeful as he buried his hands into the boy's hair, gripping just hard enough to send a shiver down Peter's spine. At his reaction, Wade smiled, nipping at his lower lip in order to pull another delicious response from him.

The spider had to pull away first, cheeks blazing and chest heaving.

Wade moved one hand down from his hair to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the smooth skin as his eyes searched for any sign of regret. "Webs..."

"I think - I think I lo-oo-ACHOO." He quickly turned away, sneezing into his shoulder.

Wade roared with laughter, offering a tissue as Peter's blush deepened.

"I achoo you too."

[cryptidwithacopiccollection]

-points at you with delight and glee- FELLOW MARINE BIOLOGY/OCEANOGRAPHY ENTHUSIAST!!! hi I love your mer-attorneys and all the sea creatures you pick it delights my inner fish immensely

FKJHSAJHKSDKHSD THANK YOU!!

This whole AU would not have been possible without @original-character-chaos, who contributed to like half of the creature picks for the mers. It started out as me making a joke that if Miles Edgeworth was a mer, he'd be a frilled shark. Nox then asked if Gumshoe would be an octopus. Then I decided Franziska would be a sixgill because I love sixgills. We promptly spiraled out of control from there.

And when I say spiraled oh boy do I mean it. Under the cut is several paragraphs of infodumping.

First was our basic criteria: only deepsea animals.

Next came picking out deepsea animals for everyone. At this point we had Mia, Maya, Pearl, and Miles figured out, but we needed something for phoenix. At first I tossed around the idea of a coelacanth, since they're both blue and incredibly persistent, but they aren't able to swim very deep (only 700m down, mia would have had a 6,000 meter lead on him). Then I was looking up deep sea sharks. and one name stood out as odd to me. The basking shark was on there. Which was weird, they're surface dwellers. They literally have "basking" in their name, why would they be deepsea. Then I found out that they can dive up to 2,000 meters below the surface. for reference, that is as deep as GIANT SQUIDS.

And then it clicked that of COURSE Phoenix Wright, of all characters, would make a great deepsea mer to have basking in it's name. A few other factors, such as basking sharks being able to breach and being warm-blooded (just think of the cuddling possibilities), sealed him in.

Not only did we decide that we were only allowed to pick deepsea animals (reaching the twilight zone, aprox. 200 meters below sea level minimum, preferrably closer to the midnight zone at about 1,000 meters), but each character, save for identical twins, would be a different species. The specificity has gotten to the point where all mers in the Fey family have to be in the order scyphozoa, aka "true" sea jellies, and ON TOP OF THAT their bioluminescence directly correlates with their spritual power. So Mia, Maya, and pearl are all bioluminescent, but Dahlia and Iris aren't. Similarly, while we decided to give all characters distinct species, we also wanted bio family to show some relation to each other. So while Apollo is a thorny whiplash squid and Trucy's a vampire squid, they're both red cephalapods, and their common root, Thalassa, is a blanket octopus. Nox and I were kinda loosing our shit trying (and failing) to cross-reference the depth range of the gelatinous blanket octopus (Thalassa), which is different from a the shallow-dwelling rainbow blanket octopus, and even after digging up actual research papers our findings were unfortunately inconclusive. Another less complicated example is Manfred vonKarma, who we lovingly gave a greenland shark for the fact that he's old as fuck and also full of poison. Then of course Franziska had to be a shark too, so I said bluntnose sixgill because they are so fucking cool, and everyone sleeps on them.

And I mean it. Look up the largest sharks in the world. #1 will be the whale shark, for obvious reasons, the largest we've ever accurately measured was over 60 feet long. #2 will be the basking shark, which also checks out, their largest on record was over 40 feet.

But then you check for the next on the list. Now, weight-wise, the results do look different, but we're specifically focusing on the length of the shark from snout to tail-tip for this. And it's also where I start wanting to throw hands. On base reaction, most people would say the great white. A good record on measurements is this article, but they unfortunately appear to have fallen for the Great White propaganda, claiming the largest one on record was 23 feet. Wow, that's big! Sure would be cool if it was true. The largest great white that I can reliably find measurements on is Deep blue, who clocks in at just over 20 feet. There are unconfirmed reports from several hundred years ago of whites that were well over thirty feet... that I don't believe were actually great whites. See, they bear a striking similarity to the harmless, much larger basking shark, and I'd bet actual money on these reported catches just being very unfortunate baskers, sorry guys.

So, great whites only grow to about 21 feet MAXIUM, and most average 15-16 feet. Why have I spent so much time tearing them down over sixgills? WHEHEHEELLL. Buckle up. The largest recorded bluntnose sixgill shark was

26.

feet.

long.

Unlike great whites, a sixgill has no larger relatives to be mistaken for.

AND while I'm at it, I would like to add that the average size for this species, 11-14 feet, isn't nearly as well documented as other shallow-water sharks, and is based on when the shark reaches sexual maturity; sighted sixgills often reach well past 18 feet. Submersibles have encountered massive ones, such as this gorgeous beast, and because I'm so very normal, I did the math. It's stated in the extended cut of the exploration that her head is about 3 feet wide. And based on this reference, i measured out a sixgill's head width as about 1/7th of their total body length.

3 x 7 is 21, so that shark is, give or take, about 21 feet, possibly longer. Since they are deep-sea sharks, with the adults sticking to deeper waters, it is entirely possible that the largest ones are just chilling near the seafloor having never seen a submersible or ROV. Even discounting that, we have a (albeit roughly) measured sixgill who is as big as Deep Blue, if not bigger, and google is a liar.

They also are responsible for trying to eat underwater ethernet cables

So yeah. that's a lil bit of lore for Law of the deep, the silly little deepsea mer au for ace attorney! Thank you so much for the ask, again :D

[californcari]

all the feels

Wow, I haven't logged into tumblr for years, my bio still says I'm 20. I'm 26 now! Lately I've been so nostalgic for my teenage/early twenties.

Being part of these fandoms was such a beautiful part of my adolescence. I am so grateful to have been part of those wonderful communities that shaped the creative person I am today <3

[loreofthegayuma]

Content: realizations on being a system this entire time

Ok wow. So the entire time the "i was nonverbal before but was traumatized" was the old host? ok yeah, that makes sense actually bcs ive never said it like i was changed. I always just say that the nasty ppl killed that person. I always say it like that... yet i still didnt get it

and i always say it like "yeah. the surroundings really needed me to be the perfect student (16yo) which also means a "social upgrade" thats why i erased the old me and transformed into that" you know.,, you know what?!??!

which is really sad actually. bcs idek if theyre still here at all. Idk how to feel abt that bcs it felt like it was one of our choices that lead to that.

this is like the wrong time to be dealing w a headache but im going to keep going...

I do think im semiverbal rn tho. But about the last time i was in college i was verbal. I'm sure because I never had any difficulty in expressing myself and being chatty with classmates and i was my most active in class during this time.

Another ig question yesterday that made me rethink everything is... "do you feel any attachment to your age?" Because. I was really consistently inconsistent with my answers throughout the years with this. Last year my sibling said that i said on multiple occassions that im a 30 something year old namekian (dragon ball) jokingly. But i said it a lot and i was happy saying that again and again. But when i was teased again two months ago with "hey 30yo namekian" i had a poor reaction to it. Like "ah hey, im not like that actually haha. Idk why i said that." But i was not cringing about it or anything. Just that: "oh yeah, that's weird. Why did i say that. Heh, my whimsy"

right now i can say that i feel like im beyond age. Like ofc i still change my age in my bio whenever my bday arrives. But it's not like i have any attachment to that age or to that bday. It was just something i needed to do to make sure i place a boundary on subjects that i can and cant talk abt w another person. It was a social responsibility.

But do i think i'm 26 right now? Do i feel like im currently 26??? I dont. I feel like im at a stale age thats beyond 100+. And wherever that number lies, im forever that age. That is so weird to me but it's the only way i understand it. Unlike when I was in college where I confidently even say "hah. actually i'm 25" when im not, i was so much younger than that that time. but i told that to all of my friends as a joke and they just always say "haha yeah, okay sure" bcs it was a harmless one

THE BIGGEST ONE IG IS HOW, APPARENTLY, BEING NONHUMAN IS AN ACTUAL THING, YEAH, THANK THE GODS. GUESS WHO WAS CONSISTENTLY INCONSISTENT ABOUT THEIR ATTACHMENT TO "HUMANNESS" AND OTHER BEINGS THROUGHOUT THE YEARS?! GUESS WHO?!???

Not even 10000 years of rest can help me think this out i think

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Okay okay, so call me crazy, but I swear that the last time I checked your tumblr (ahem yesterday) it said you were 26. And now it says you're 27? Was it your birthday? If so happy birthday! <3 But if it wasn't your birthday, we love you very much and wish you the best anyways!!

Also I just found out that you're physician. That is so cool. Like damn, really awesome. I began connecting the dots with ASF and went, "Ahhh, this all makes sense!"

Anyways, just wanted to say hi :D

So, there is a reason my username has the word 'idiot' in it.

My birthday was actually the first of April (but still thank you for the birthday wishes), but i forgot. i was placing my bio and i literally forgot my own age and that it went up a year.

But then when I realized, I thought "okay i can change this and nobody is even gonna notice."

🤡

When I read this message, I died laughing hahahaha. Thank you for all the love and support! And the birthday wishes! And kudos for being so attentive b/c wow my dumbass literally thought no one would recall that.

[arzyn]

Augh

here take a bio for Whitty-97 so y’all can process how i see him in my head (you can tell i changed him so much to make him fit the setting lol)

— —

VITALS

Name: Whitty Carlisle

Pronouns: he/him

Gender: “uhhh, how does that stuff work again? i forgot :-/“

Age: 4 (DOB Jan 28 2019)

Mental age: 22-26

Height: 8’11

Weight: 273 lbs

RELATIONSHIPS

Whitty knows just about everyone, whether due to his close friendship with Boyfriend or his generally outgoing nature.

But his Besties are Hex (also his boyfriend), Agoti, Aldryx, and Tabi.

PERSONALITY:

Whitty is…and I’m not going to put it lightly here…he’s like if you extracted the soul from a lolcat and put it into a guy.

But in all seriousness, Whitty is bright, positive, and sweet, almost saccharine at times. There’s a reason when writing him, I tend to stick to lowercase and use emoticons heavily—cause he is absolutely a :3 kind of man.

Due to his young chronological age, there’s a lot of stuff he doesn’t know about the world. But as far as he’s concerned that just means more stuff he can learn, as he has a curious streak at times.

But that isn’t to say he’s not smart. He is intelligent to an extent due to his desire to learn more about whatever topics, but there are simply certain areas of knowledge he lacks.

Whitty occupies a space between introverted and extroverted. He loves going out into the world and making new friends and talking to people, but he equally, and perhaps even more, enjoys sitting in the comfort of the home he shares with Hex.

He’s a pacifist, generally not willing to fight or confront anyone unless they’ve hurt one of his friends or make him fear for his own safety.

——

wow i really butchered this man to hell and back didn’t I

@hydrawriter @lightgriffinsect @shippin-my-sanses you might like this (you are the fnf mutuals)

[queensparklekitten]

1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 16, 17, 19, 21, 22, 26, 27, 30, 31, 32, 33, 35, 37

wow that is a lot

hmmm... azaleas cause they're in minecraft

so is the type of flower determined by the person with the disease or the person they have it about? make up your mind ask game

magical girl outfit. with a multilayered tulle skirt, a frilly neckline, short frilly sleeves, a tiara, and ribbons around my arms and legs. and lots of pearls and gems.

i'd be the goddess of... well my bio says i'm the goddess of sparkly things. so, luxury and what's the word again for that feeling you get when you see something really pretty or a super cool performance. i'd accept most sacrifices, with only a few things that are off-limits.

*insert entire minecraft end poem*

battle axe if i'm feeling especially unhinged, scythe when i'm going hard on revenge and i want to look as terrifying as possible, and broad sword at other times but only if it's very ornate.

[futari wa precure spoilers redacted]

*immediately opens firefly path website* that one firefly path dress with the massive amounts of gems and fancy metal designs on the neckline and waistline and the shiny flowers that kinda looks like it's out of saga of viera , with that one firefly path cape with all the flowers and the shiny pink leaves that's got a cutout for my wings to fit through, that one firefly path crown, those ridiculously ornate firefly path wrist accessories with all the gems, flowers woven into my hair, are you seeing a pattern here? firefly path is the fantasy formal event version of aikatsu renders

am i allowed to be a hybrid of two

closest i can find's this

but it's obviously not perfectly accurate, like those should be pearls instead of chains and it should be more tiara than full crown (but still go all the way around) and the points would be wider angles. Also the crystals would be different, like that one on the forehead would be swapped out for actually cut gems with fancy detail around them. And maybe also wings on the side of the tiara if that's an option

First one. Caves in real life aren't as much my thing unless I can roleplay Minecraft, and mornings don't last very long for me because of how late I sleep. Besides, hanging out with elves means I might get homoerotically pinned to a wall with a dagger.

Never having more than one person available to play Minecraft with me- oh wait. Jokes aside, never being able to tell people about the things living rent free in my head. Either I physically can't, or I can talk about it but no one will see it even if I send it directly to them.

All the times I've had a song pop into my head and turned on the radio or changed the radio station and that exact song was playing. This has included songs that rarely got played anymore at the time. Yes, this has happened multiple times.

Have I not done so already, when I threw that masquerade ball? If you insist, that but with more Firefly Path type detail.

Flying trumps pretty much everything

Using black magic to try to kill people

Either pastel rainbow or they'd change colours depending on my mood if that's possible. If I have to pick one, gold

Are we talking "link an existing song" or "describe a song that doesn't exist"

Flower field during summer, marketplace during the other seasons

[wayferingsoul]

oh wow i haven’t posted and update here for ages. my bio says i’m still 26 lol i guess i’ll stay that age for a few more years

[bwabys-scenarios]

Reunited

Part 27

part 26

part 28

Warnings: mention of a groper on the loose, reader gets attacked, animal death, mentions of feitan being horny for reader and and masturabtion, feitan rummages through readers underwear drawer(PERVV)

taglist: @tsukilover11 @mercyboluthecrazychicken @sxyriii @shidoni-san @living4tomrua @lemonslut @honeylunalove @sugarrushdaydream @canthebest1

if you���d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

(Name) woke up to the sound of several men talking in the living room. She pulled on a pair of shorts and a tshirt, having thrown off all her clothes before jumping into bed.

As she exited the room, she noticed a new person sat on her living room sofa, sipping from her favorite hello kitty coffee mug.

“Oh. Another one.”

The three men glanced up as (Name) entered the room, leaning her hip against the wall. Uvogin jumped up, rushing over and pulling the girl into a bone crushing hug.

(Name) coughed, patting his back. “Alright big guy, let me down before you actually crack my spine.”

The man let out a barking laugh, setting the girl down. “What ya making for breakfast, sweetheart?”

(Name) ignored him, peeking past the hulking figure to the man sitting on her sofa. “Hello there, I’m (Name).”

She moved past Uvogin and offered her hand, smiling politely. The man took her hand, giving her a similar smile back. “I’m Nobunaga. Sorry, we’ll be out of your hair soon.”

(Name) waved her hands dismissively. “Oh, you’re no trouble at all. I’ll go make breakfast, you boys just relax. I’m sure the journey has been tiring.”

Nobunaga watched her leave, the girl rustling around in the fridge while humming, the sway of her hips almost hypnotizing.

“Feitan… you’re a lucky guy.”

The short man huffed. “Shut up.”

——————

After eating a meal of biscuits, gravy, and fruit, the two left.

Nobunaga left Feitan a new coat, saying he’d have to pay Machi back for it later. (Name) clapped when he left the bathroom in his new coat, her face lightly flushed.

“Wow, you look nice Feitan! Handsome even!”

Feitan was glad his coat covered his face, because he could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks.

“… thanks.”

Over the next week, Feitan’s had gained control over his hands, able to lift his arms for a few seconds before dropping them in exhaustion.

He’d started exercising daily, going out for runs before breakfast. It was nice to return to (Name) smiling at him, placing a plate on the table for him. Something about having someone to come home to made him feel soft.

“Feitan!”

The man looked up from his manga to see (Name), wearing a knee length lilac summer dress and a strawhat.

“Wanna come to town with me?”

He set the novel down, standing. “Sure. Reason you ask?”

(Name) sighed. “There’s rumors that there’s a man going around groping lone women in the streets. I’d feel safer with you.”

He sneered at the information, but his heart thumped painfully against his chest at the fact he made her feel safe. If she knew who he really was, would she be more scared of the groper, or him?

(Name) and Feitan walked to town, him holding her hand. He excused it by saying it was to help her keep up with him, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Too slow. Just hold on.”

He pulled her along, stopping every once in a while to give her a break, even if she didn’t need one.

Once they reached town, Feitan pulled her to his side, keeping his hand in hers. He used his nen to see if there was anyone in the area with malicious intent, and when he didn’t sense anything, he continued walking through town.

“Feitan, we should get you some of your own soap. I don’t wanna make you use a girls soap f-“

“I use yours.”

(Name) tilted her head. “Are you sure it’s okay? Didn’t Uvogin make fun of you?”

“Don’t care what he thinks.”

For some reason, he wanted to keep using her soap for as long as possible. It smelled good, like her.

(Name) hummed. “Alright. Let’s see if they have anything on sale in the grocery store!”

The two pursued the shelves of the grocery store, Feitan tossing in a few items he personally enjoyed. He’d never tell her his preferences, since he wasn’t a picky eater, so she was glad she brought him.

(Name) suddenly stopped, glancing at Feitan before turning to him shyly. “Um… I need to look down the next aisle. Could you stay here for a moment?”

Feitan raised an eyebrow. “What about groper?”

(Name) pursed her lips. “I’ll scream if something happens.”

The girl left her buggy with Feitan, the man waiting until she was far enough away to follow behind her.

She went down the small women’s clothing aisle, humming to herself. “Wonder if they still have them…”

Feitan watched as she paused in front of the women’s underwear, looking the shelf up and down. He was a little embarrassed to be looking at such a thing, but his curiosity wouldn’t let him leave.

She picked up a pack of multiple panties, them being pink and white themed, with a pair in the front having a strawberry pattern. She flipped the package over to look at the price, a sigh leaving her lips.

“Aww, still too much. I really wanted these too…”

She put the package down, sadly turning to return to Feitan. He was already long gone, leaning against the buggy nonchalantly. “Get what you need?”

She shook her head, her mood having soured a little. “No, it’s still to expensive. Maybe next month I can fit it into my budget.”

(Name) pushed the buggy forward, a pout on her lips. Feitan followed after her, glancing back at the aisle before stopping.

“Have to use bathroom. Be back.”

With that he strolled away, hands in his pockets. (Name) nodded and pulled out her grocery list, continuing her shopping.

(Name) and Feitan walked out of the grocery store, feitan carrying a majority of the bags. She’d fussed at him for straining himself, getting a glare in return.

“Can carry. Not weak, you know.”

She huffed. “I didn’t say you were weak. I just worry about you.”

His grip on the bags tightened. “Shouldn’t worry. I’m not a good man.”

(Name) hummed, peeking at him. “Not many people are truly good. But…”

She stood in front of him, leaning forward to wrap her arms around him.

“I don’t think you’re all that bad.”

He stiffened at her touch, the groceries dropping to the ground.

His hands trembled at her sides, not knowing what to do. As he struggled on what he should do next, (Name) pulled away and smiled.

“You’re good enough to me.”

She turned without another word, leaving him to rush to pick up the bags and follow behind her. He was glad she couldn’t see the tears prickling the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall. Feitan blinked them away quickly.

‘If she really knew what I’ve done, would she still smile at me like that?’

——————

Feitan watched as (Name) put up the groceries, humming to herself. Her sudden hug earlier still had his skin tingling, the tips of his ears red. Did she know the effect she had over him?

“Feitan, I’m gonna make some sandwiches, let’s eat on the porch, it’s so nice out!”

He could only nod, words not coming easy for him at the moment.

(Name) and Feitan sat together at the table, looking out over the river as they ate their sandwiches. Although Feitan was still struggling to lift his arms, he was able to eat by himself now. (Name) made sure to offer her assistance if she felt he needed it.

“So, Feitan, when’s your birthday?”

The sudden question caused the black haired man to choke on his sandwich, the girl smacking his back.

“Why… why you ask?”

Feitan glanced at her as he caught his breath, coughing lightly. She shrugged, pushing herself on the porch swing. “Just curious.”

“Don’t have one.”

(Name) paused her swinging, standing up suddenly. “You don’t have a birthday?”

“Don’t remember.”

(Name) blinked at him, her eyebrows furrowing. “Oh. That’s unfortunate…”

The two made idle chit chat as the sun went down, (Name) doing most of the talking. As the two conversed, she slipped in a few innocent sounding questions.

“Do you have a favorite flavor of cake?”

“Vanilla.”

“What would be something you’d like to receive as a gift?”

“Manga.”

(Name) nodded, typing something into her phone. Feitan watched her in mild amusement. She always asked him so many questions that he hadn’t even began to expect her true motives.

“I see. Alright, I think it’s time I retire to bed.”

“Sound like old woman.”

The woman in question let out a gasp, holding a hand over her heart. “Why I never! Hmph!”

She playfully tossed her hair as she walked inside, turning back around to stick out her tongue at him.

“Get dessert yourself then!”

He rolled his eyes, the ghost of a smile returning as he stood, carrying his plate to the kitchen.

—————

Feitan woke up in the middle of the night, glancing at the alarm clock (Name) had gifted him. It was pink with Sanrio stickers covering it, just the sight of it making him think of her.

Every item she owned seemed to be covered in pink and stickers, the man almost chuckling at the thought.

It was 2 am, and because he was tired, he lied back down. Whatever had woken him up shouldn’t be that important.

Another thump made his eyes shoot open, the feeling of an aura other than (Name)’s sending him into a panic.

Feitan took a moment to calm himself, grabbing his umbrella as quietly as possible and unsheathing the hidden sword.

He could hear the sound of a struggle, but it was quiet. So quiet he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t use nen.

Feitan approached the door, peering through the crack to see what was happening.

In the dark, he could make out a large, looking figure hunched over a smaller one. It had to be a man, by the shape of his silhouette.

“No one else lives here, eh? You lying to me girly?”

The man raised his hand and smacked the small figure under him, but the person didn’t cry out. Instead they just whispered back.

“Yes, I am alone. Please… just leave. Take what you want and go.”

That was (Name)’s voice. Feitan could feel his blood pressure rising. Did that man just strike (Name)? Was he pinning her to the ground like a fucking animal?

“Now why would I leave without getting what I came here for, little missy?”

The man grabbed her by her hair, making her cover her mouth so her cry was deafened.

“You must’ve heard of me on the news. They call me a groper, but they ain’t entirely right.”

The sound of a box cutter clicking open made Feitan stiffen, his eyes on the man.

“I collect little ladies like you as trophies. Specifically…”

He raised his arm, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“THEIR HEA-“

Before the man could bring the blade down to stab into her throat, Feitan rushed out, easily severing the man’s arm from his body.

In that moment, (Name) felt true fear. The bloodlust surrounding Feitans body came off in waves so thick, even a non-nen user like (Name) could feel it. The man cried out in agony, holding the stump where his arm had once been.

“You filth.”

Feitan kicked the man in the stomach, sending him flying against the house and crashing through the front door.

Feitan passed (Name) not even sparing her s glance as he left the house. Slammed the door shut behind him as he advanced on the man.

“P-please! Don’t kill me! I-“

Feitan crouched down in front of the sniveling man, giving him a sinister smile.

“Shh, shh, shh. Not kill you. Not yet. Don’t deserve to die so quick.” he cooed, his tone sickly sweet.

Feitan took his sweet time dragging the man out to the river, grateful that (Name) lived out in the country where no one would be there to hear the man’s screams.

——————

(Name) sat motionless on the floor, holding her cheek as she waited for Feitan to return. Even as she waited, a small part of her was scared.

She’d never felt such an intense lust for blood come off of someone, the look on Feitan’s face when his foot connected with the man’s belly causing her to shiver.

Nearly an hour passed before Feitan returned, his coat covered in blood and viscera. He dropped his umbrella onto the floor, approaching (Name) with a stern frown on his lips.

(Name) watched, eyes darting from his face, to all the blood, to his hands that reached out to cup her hurt cheek.

“Why?”

It took (Name) a minute to process his words, blinking up at him stupidly.

“Why… what?”

He scowled, grabbing her face with both hands.

“Why lie? You tell him you live alone. Should have yelled for help!”

He stared down at her, his eyes wondering down her body. She seemed mostly unharmed… besides a cut on her arm. He let go of her face, his hand pulling her arm closer to take a look.

It was a defensive wound, she’d probably been grabbed from behind and thrown her arm up to protect her face from being slashed. From the look of the living room, she’d struggled quite a bit. He didn’t know how he hadn’t woken up sooner.

“You’re hurt.”

His frown deepened. “Why? Answer me.”

(Name) bit her lip, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I… I didn’t want him to hurt you too.”

Feitan’s eyes widened, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared at her. Had she really been so quiet as to not alert him?

“…”

Feitan froze as (Name) started to full on sob, her arms wrapping around him tightly. This hug was different than before. It was needy, comfort seeking, her tears mixing together with the man’s blood as she sobbed into his chest.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry you had to save me. I hate it. I didn’t want to bother you, but I’m so happy you came for me. I was so scared, Feitan.”

He reached a hesitant hand up to smooth out her hair, trembling slightly. “Shh. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Feitan’s voice was soft this time, almost sweet.

(Name) sniffled, only whining when he picked her up into his arms. Her protests died in her throat, sobs replacing them.

He didn’t seem to mind the snot and tears staining his shoulder, setting the girl down on the bathtub’s edge as he turned the knob.

He pulled off his coat, exposing his bare chest. (Name) was too busy crying to care, her eyes becoming puffy and red.

Feitan dropped his coat into the hamper, moving forward and grabbing the hem of her shirt.

(Name) stopped crying then, her face heating up. “Feitan, what are you-“

He shushed her, pulling off her shirt and tossing it into the hamper with his coat. “Got blood on it. Need to wash.”

He tried his best to keep his eyes away from her form, but he couldn’t help but take a peek at her shirtless chest, the sight of her black bra stirring something inside him.

He calmed that side of himself. He couldn’t get horny right now, she needed him.

“Bathe yourself, I get your clothes.”

He left the bathroom, walking to (Name)‘s room.

Feitan glanced down at the package he’d stolen from the grocery store earlier. It was the pack of panties she’d been looking at, the strawberry pair front and center.

Too embarrassed to look in her underwear drawer, the man ripped the package open, pulling out the strawberry pair. He grabbed a tshirt dress and walked back to the bathroom.

The shower curtain was drawn, allowing him to walk in and place the clothes on the counter. “Clothes.”

He walked back out, going to the kitchen sink to splash some water in his face.

What had come over him?

Feitan was no novice to torture, but the things he did to that man in such a short time period surprised even him. The satisfaction of ending the man’s wretched life was astounding, even to a sadist like him.

“Feitan? I’m done.”

He stood up, walking to the bathroom door and opening it.

(Name) sat on the toilet seat, the lid down. Her eyes looked to the ground in embarrassment, her cheeks red. Feitan crouched down in front of her to meet her eyes, tilting his head.

“Why you embarrassed?”

(Name) leaned back, crossing her hands over her chest. “I’m not. I’m just… confused on how you got me the panties I’ve been wanting for a while.”

‘And why,’ she thought, keeping that to herself.

“Stole them. You wanted them, right?”

She could only nod, the man giving her a sly smile.

“I’m a thief. Take what I want.”

He expected her to scold him, maybe even get angry, but neither of those things happened. She just smiled, a giggle leaving her lips.

“Ah, I see.”

She accepted him without another thought, the man having to stand up and grab the medkit to keep himself from being seen blushing.

“Give me your arm.”

She held her arm out as he cleaned the wound, wrapping it in bandages. Feitan turned it over to inspect his work, the short man dropping her arm once he deemed it good enough.

“Go to bed. I’ll take shower.”

(Name) paused, looking down again.

“Feitan?”

He glanced at her. “What?”

“Can… can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Feitan felt his heart race, backing up slightly. “… why?”

“I… I’d just feel safer if you watched over me.”

He sighed, offering his hand. “Come on. I’ll take shower after you sleep.”

He said lead her to her bedroom, watching as she climbed into bed. Feitan sat down on the edge of her bed, waiting for her get comfortable.

“Thank you. You’re real sweet you know?”

Feitan scoffed, flicking her forehead. “Sleep.”

She giggled softly before finally leaning against her pillow and closing her eyes.

It only took her five minutes to drift into sleep, a peaceful look on her face.

He watched over her for a little longer, brushing the hair away from her eyes with a gentle touch.

“Sweet dreams.”

Feitan left her side, closing her door behind him. He felt strange, the knowledge that she trusted him enough to watch over her causing his heart to race.

As he showered, he thought back to her words. She didn’t want him to get hurt, putting his safety over hers so easily.

The girl he had been so unkind to was willing to risk her life for him, without any hesitation.

He had people help and even save him in the past, but he didn’t know if anyone had ever put his life above theirs, besides Chrollo.

‘I… I don’t want her to get hurt. She’s…’

He pushed the thought away from his head, mixing her shampoo into his hair.

But as he exited the shower, he knew what he wanted.

‘I want to protect her.’

——————

Feitan was beginning to realize why she had been acting so shy last night.

(Name) stood in the kitchen, making breakfast. She was still wearing the clothes he’d gathered for her the night before, his eyes glued to her.

He hadn’t grabbed her a bra.

Without a bra, her nipples pressed against the fabric of her shirt, the girl seemingly unaware. Feitan tried to tear his eyes away, feeling his pants tighten, much to his annoyance.

He grumbled, shuffling out of the living room and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Feitan looked down, groaning. He never had a reaction like this to seeing multiple women naked, so why was he getting hard just seeing her nipples poke through her shirt?

‘Gotta take care of this…’

——————

(Name) placed two warm waffles on a plate, sitting it on the table where Feitan usually sat. She glanced at the bathroom door, humming as she grabbed her own plate.

‘Hmm, maybe he has a tummy ache?’

She plopped down into her chair and began eating her waffles and eggs, popping a fresh strawberry into her mouth.

Feitan left the bathroom five minutes later, the lightest shade of pink dusted across his cheeks. (Name) waved, pointing to his plate. “I made breakfast, waffles sound good?”

He didn’t respond, sitting down and eating his food quietly. Feitan didn’t make eye contact as he finished his meal, saying he was leaving for a jog when he was done.

“Oh…”

(Name) fidgeted, setting fork down and sighing.

“What?”

Feitan noticed a change in her aura, a frown on his lips.

“I… it’s nothing. Go ahead.”

She waved him off dismissively, taking her plate to the sink to wash it off. “Just… don’t be gone for too long.”

He thought about staying. (Name) was probably still scared from last night. Feitan couldn’t stay, though. He was still flustered, and a bit ashamed at what had happened in the bathroom. A jog would help clear his mind.

“Won’t take long.”

Feitan left without another word, pulling his hoodie over his head.

(Name) busied herself with cleaning up the messy living room, mopping up blood and fixing the furniture that had been flipped over during her struggle.

—————

Feitan was moving a lot better, having run several miles in only a few minutes. He was deep in the forest (Name) had taken him to, only stopping when he came across a dump site.

Someone had been leaving trash and carcasses there, the bodies of dead animals and mounds of waste overpowering the lingering scent of wisteria flowers.

Honestly, it reminded him of home.

Feitan hummed as he passed it by, a small noise causing him to raise an eyebrow.

“meow”

Feitan glanced to his left, seeing the body of a cat lying inside a sideways cardboard box. Nestled against the cat were a few kittens, most of them dead.

It seemed that the mother cat had given birth and died shortly after. Most of the kittens must have been born stillborn, never able to take their first breath.

But there was a single kitten crying out, the remnants of milk staining it’s mouth.

‘Hmm. Was able to find its mothers breast and eat.’

He picked up the baby by its scruff, examining its condition.

It was a brown tabby, with a fat little belly. The kitten meowed out, it’s body cold. The man scoffed, about to drop the kitten back into the box when (Name)’s face flashed in his mind.

What if one day, she found this dump site? What if she saw the corpses of these kittens and blamed herself for not noticing sooner? She was a sweet girl, having shown Feitan pictures of her childhood cat several times.

Feitan placed the cat in his hoodie, letting it curl up against his chest to get warm. The man dug a grave and placed the mother with her kittens in it, burying them.

From the collar on the mothers neck, he knew she had been dumped there. They were way too far out in the forest for a cat with an owner to have wondered. Feitan was a cold man, but even he felt a bit disgusted. Had they abandoned the cat because she was pregnant?

He didn’t want to think about it. Feitan made his way back to (Name)’s home, wondering if she’d be happy with his ‘gift’.

——————

“Feitan, you’re back!”

(Name) jumped up from her chair, running over to give him a hug, but he pushed her back gently.

The girl pouted, about to complain, but Feitan was quick to point to his chest.

“Watch.”

He pulled the collar of his hoodie down, exposing the kitten to her. (Name) gasped, grabbing his collar and peering down his hoodie with a squeal. He tried not to react to her closeness.

“Oh my god, Feitan how did you get this kitten?”

“Found it on side of road.” He lied, pulling it out and placing it in her hands. “You like cats?”

“I love cats!”

She cooed at the small thing, pulling it close to her. “Poor thing, must of been abandoned. We have a real bad problem with people dumping their pets on the side of the road here.”

‘No kidding.’ Feitan thought, watching her with a soft look. She kissed the top of the kitten’s head, scurrying to her room to grab a plastic bin. Feitan followed, watching as she placed a heating pad at the bottom and layered blankets on top, making sure that the heat was just enough to keep the kitten warm and not burn it.

“I’m so glad I kept that kitten formula from the last time.” She said absentmindedly, placing the kitten in its new home.

“Last time? You’ve done this before?”

(Name) nodded, a small frown pulling at her lips. “When I lived with my parents, our neighbor refused to get their cat fixed, so she had kittens when she was still a kitten herself. Most of the babies died, but I was able to save two.”

She walked past him, rummaging through her kitchen cabinets until she found what she needed. “Ah, here.”

She placed the kitten formula on the table, grabbing a tiny bottle and mixing up the formula. “It was tough waking up every few hours to feed them, but the happy faces of the people that adopted them made up for it.”

Feitan couldn’t help but admire her. She was so different than him, giving so much love to whatever came across her path. He leaned against the wall as she worked.

——————

After feeding the kitten, (Name) placed it back and stood up, enveloping Feitan in a hug.

“I missed you!”

His arms shot out, hovering over her back. She had become so much more affectionate since last night, and Feitan didn’t want to admit how much he liked it.

“Wasn’t gone long…” he grumbled, taking in her scent. Her hands clutched the fabric of his hoodie. Her chin rested on his shoulder.

“Long enough.”

(Name) had become clingy, quickly. He knew it was because of her nerves after the incident from last night, but he still enjoyed her touch.

As the day wore on, she stayed by his side, only leaving to use the bathroom and feed the kitten. He’d pushed her away a few times, still being sensitive to touch, but mostly allowed her to hug him and hold his hand. She’d been through a traumatizing experience, it was only fair he was a little lenient, right?

He sat at the kitchen table, only halfway paying attention to the manga in his hands. (Name) was wearing an oversized tshirt and shorts. To an outsider, it looked like she wasn’t wearing anything BUT her tshirt. But when she bent to check on the bread in the over, white shorts with a black cartoon cat on the butt could be seen.

She was awfully cute, being unaware of his less than pure gaze. He wondered if she was still wearing those strawberry panties he’d picked out, quickly shaking the thought from his head. He didn’t want to get too excited again.

“Feitan… feitannnn!”

Feitan snapped back to reality, pushing (Name)’s face back. She’d been a bit too close for comfort, her breath tickling his cheek.

“What is it?”

She mumbled something against his hand, the man pulling his arm back to hear what she had said.

“It’s going to be raining a lot next week, so Sunday I’m going to buy some supplies from town in case the power goes out. Don’t want the kitten getting cold!”

She leaned forward again, a cute smile on her face. It was like she couldn’t keep a smile off her lips when she was around him, the thought making the tips of his ears turn pink.

“You’ll hold me if I get scared of the storm, right?”

It took him a moment to process that question, the man stuttering out a reply.

“H-hold? What, you a kid? Tch…”

He pushed her away again, but didn’t say no. She didn’t push any further, only giggling at his reaction. Underneath his resting bitch face, Feitan was shy around girls.

What (Name) didn’t know was that he wasn’t shy around most women, only her.

The two ate dinner together, (Name) informing Feitan about the newest episode of an anime she’d been watching. “Oh Feitan, you can watch with me if you like! I download the episodes on my phone while I’m in town.”

He didn’t reply, finishing his food as she continued to ramble on. He glanced at the TV, his eyes shooting open wide.

There was an image of the Phantom Troupe on screen. The sound was off, Feitan sprinting to the remote and turning it off as quickly as possible.

(Name) glanced up from her plate. “Hmm?”

He shrugged. “Gross thing on news. Didn’t want to ruin your dinner.”

“Oh, how sweet!”

She ruffled his hair, the man swatting her hand away with a huff.

——————

That Sunday, Feitan found himself taking care of the small kitten. (Name) had to work at the farmers market, so she wouldn’t be able to focus on the kitten.

Feitan grumpily offered his help in exchange for (Name) making him his favorite dessert, a lemon meringue pie.

“Hmm, that’s not easy, but I’ll make it. Just for you~” she cooed, booping his nose. He scowled at her.

“So touchy.”

“You’ve got such soft skin, I can’t help it!”

She squished his cheeks, the man swatting her hands away and letting out an embarrassed groan. “Gonna get bit one day.”

“You’ve already bitten me!”

Feitan winced. He hated remembering the pain he’d caused her, his eyes wondering from her face to her arms. The wounds he caused had already healed, but the knowledge that his hands had hurt her filled him with dread.

Feitan sat on (Name)’s bed, having just fed the kitten again. “How much does it need to eat? Ugh…”

He set on her nightstand.

“Hmm… she wouldn’t mind if I look around… got me working, peeking would be okay.”

Feitan had been very curious about what lied in her closet and drawers, deciding to rifle through her closet first.

At first he didn’t find anything interesting, pushing through items of clothing with a bored look.

That was until he found a maid costume. He blinked at the dress, seeing it was incredibly short. Why did she own something like that?

He found himself continuing his search, becoming more and more confused.

There was a playboy bunny suit, paired with bunny ears. Feitan immediately pictured her in it, having to push the image out of his head before he popped a boner.

He left the closet and decided to search through drawers.

He ignored the underwear drawer, telling himself he’d look there last.

Feitan opened her shirt drawer, picking up a few articles of clothing and chuckling. Almost every shirt was a pastel color, anime characters or some kind of cartoon character decorating them.

He looked through numerous skirts and shorts, blinking at a few pairs. Would that pair of shorts even cover anything?

He glanced back up at her underwear drawer, biting the inside of his cheek. Looking in a woman’s underwear drawer was a huge invasion of privacy, but he’d already been rummaging through her room, was it really that different?

He pulled the drawer open, his eyes widening.

(Name) had a wide arrange of taste.

There were plain cotton panties, lacy panties, even a few matching sets of lingerie. Did she really wear these everyday? Around him?

Feitan noticed something tucked under in the corner, grab in the object quickly.

“Oh, naughty girl.”

The object was an erotic novel, the cover having full on nudity. He read the back cover, eyes widening at the description.

“So this is what she likes…”

He pocketed the book, partly because he wanted to read it later, partly because he wanted to see the look on her face when she found out it was missing.

Maybe he’d even take some notes.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink. 

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself! 

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.  

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.      

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.  

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”  

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.    

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.  

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.  

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.  

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.  

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”  

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.  

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.  

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.    

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.  

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”  

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.    

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.  

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.    

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.  

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.  

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“    

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself. 

“The whole process, it feels sort of  - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.  

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.  

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.    

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.  

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.  

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.  

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

-

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?  

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.  

Yours,

Bucky”

-

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

[balkanballad]

Eurovision 2021 ranking

hello, hello and welcome to my eurovision 2021 ranking. the songs are ranked with numbers but I also put them into categories (from 💐 to 🥀) and added a short comment. so, if you are interested in my personal opinion about the songs, have fun:

💐:

Switzerland: I was rooting for him last year and it’s the one returner in my top that didn’t disappoint me that much. what a start, huh? I love the song, I love the feeling it gives me when I listen to it, the clip is very pretty too. did I like his last entry better? yes, but I will say it already here at the very top of this list: I liked last year’s choices in general a lot more. nevertheless, this is a beautiful entry! and it is my personal winner this year

Australia: I loved her last song. It was there for me when I needed it. Technicolour does not touch me in that way but it is fun!! it’s catchy to me and I really like Montaigne. I adore her style and how she sings. I am excitingly looking forward to this performance :)

France: beautiful song, amazing singer, the national final performance was wonderful. however, I listened to it so much that back in March I already needed a break form it. now as I am finishing this it’s April and I can slowly listen to it again. it’s me though, it’s not her. that’s really a me problem. she’s wonderful and I love the French touch to this

Albania: a ballad from the Balkans <3 hello, of course I like it and I love that they kept it in Albanian this year. I heard similar songs before, but I like the sound of it still.and overall it’s a song that gives me familiar vibes in a cozy way with a bit of drama

Russia: interesting!! I was relived to see that Little Big didn’t return because, as I explained in my ranking for last year, I was not feeling them. absolutely nothing about them, but I love her! I think it’s catchy, it’s something different and I like the message she supports. it took me a few times to fully decide how I feel about the song, but now it’s in my top for sure 

Denmark: fun! a fun song in Danish. I really like the good mood it puts me in. I even see this in the context of the Umbrella Academy or Stranger Things or something like that when they go to Europe to party a bit. I also really enjoy the old school vibe this has to it. I miss that vibe. I’m also a bit old school

Cyprus: I absolutely do not relate to anything said in this song but it’s catchy! it is a bit fuego and a bit replay but I liked those entries as well, so yeah fire. I have not heard a single live performance by her but I am not exactly sure that vocals will be the aspect that she will try to win votes with anyway. I am amused by the fact that apparently people were offended by this song when it clearly makes no sense whatsoever. it’s simply a bop, move on and dance a bit

🌺:

(8.) Greece: fun as well! a ‘dream team’ entry for sure. I say this a bit sarcastically, but they do well a lot of the times and I am lured in by a lot of their entries myself. Kontopoulos is a big name in the esc industry, it’s a fact. the song is a bit more mature than Superg!rl, which I also listened to more often that I thought I would. It still reminds me of a theme song for a superhero show for kids and I am a bit worried that the ‘dReAM TeAm’ is a bit too outdated for Stefania because I think she could have done something cooler than both of those songs

(9.) Sweden: it took me a few times listening to this song, but I like the song now. I don’t think it’s too special and “a million voices” reminds me of Polina immediately because those are her words for me, but this is a good song too. I like how it makes me feel empowered and like everything will be okay. thank you for that, Tusse, I need that 

(10.) Israel: Eden deserved a better song. I like this song less than last year’s entry because I think it’s less interesting and I loved some instrumental parts from last year’s entry, but this is not bad either. I am rooting more for her than for the song, but I guess that’s this year’s motto for me. I also can’t say that I love the revamp because it made it sound even more generic for me  

(11.) Belgium: I saw the promo pics for them and was very confused how different the singer looks this year, but it turns out that it’s not the same woman. I like this entry a lot better. I like her voice and I really like the vibe. It sounds a bit like it could play in the background of a classic American tv show when a character is going a bit through it and pouring a drink while it’s dark outside. I have the same problem that I mentioned already while talking about the French entry, but that’s still a me problem. I just need a break

(12.) Ireland: this entry is a lot less annoying to me than the song that she had last year. I like the lyrics and whole aesthetic of this one a lot more. it’s another one that I can’t listen to too often, but I still think it’s a very good choice imo

(13.) The Netherlands: Jeangu!! I think he for example will give a wonderful vocal performance. Growth felt way more personal to me, but that’s a repeating motive this year and also a me problem because obviously this is his song and he does it well

🌻:

(14.) San Marino: I’m still confused by this feature and I can’t really say that I’m ‘living’ for it, but I already made a post about how I don’t think she needed Flo Rida. minus the feature it’s a catchy party song, but it reminds me of one song that I simply can’t remember anymore. something that I heard from the Greek music industry, maybe even Eleni, if you know which one I mean, pls let me know

(15.) Estonia: just like last year: this song doesn’t make much sense and I don’t want to, but I still catch myself listening to it frequently... I am sorry, I can’t help it, but it puts me in a eurovision mood and yes, I am blaming Kontopoulos again. I am a weak person when it comes to his melodies

(16.) Ukraine: first I had it lower in my ranking, but I like SHUM better now and I like it a lot more now than last years entry. I really like the part when it gets faster, that’s really fun and makes me want to jump! jump! jump!

(17.) Spain: it’s a lot less repetitive than the last entry, but I would be lying if I said that I listen to this very often. it’s alright, not bad at all actually, but I just wasn’t in the mood for this (yet?)

(18.) Romania: this is for me still the same type of style as Bulgaria. European Billie Eilish type. last year I ranked her higher than Bulgaria as well, but they are pretty much the same to me. I can’t comment on whether I like her song less or more this year. it’s not bad either but I simply don’t think about it much

(19.) Bulgaria: I think I like this entry better than her last one. the message is cute, the melody too and yeah, but I don’t care about it too much

🌼:

(20.) Croatia: it’s a faster pop song without a real meaning. ground-breaking. the title makes me think of Ukraine 2014. which I like better, but we’ll see, maybe the performance will have something cool too. I will say though, I would have prefered the whole song to be in Croatian, it doesn’t make it much deeper, but I like that part the most

(21.) Malta: another faster pop song. I think she will give an amazing vocal performance and it will be cool and powerful, but the message and lyrics are a bit confusing to me. I am not the lyrics police, but I am confused by them a bit

(22.) Iceland: I think I like it better than last year’s song, but it’s still not LOVE that I feel for the song. I can listen to it though

(23.) Lithuania: it’s there. I am not a fan of them and it’s not a song I love too much, but I can listen to it

(24.) North Macedonia: sigh. I liked last year’s entry a lot and Vasil seems like someone who cares a lot about the contest, but I don’t feel this ballad. I think I know what they were going for and what it’s trying to be, dramatic and meaningful, but I don’t feel it that much. it’s okay? but it doesn’t do much for me

(25.) Czech Republic: this was a surprise because I think the overall quality of his entry got a lot better, this time though I have the problem that I do not like the lyrics. they don’t make me as uncomfortable as Germany last year but they are in that area of uhm, I don’t love the feeling this gives me

(26.) UK: hm :/ I can’t say that I’m a fan. this sounds like the type of song that the boring straight men in my area put in their tinder bio as their song, but it’s every third guy that says this is his song. those Calvin Harris remix type-ish songs and I am sooo bored. I swipe left because it’s no match, I delete tinder. breath was a lot more my thing and a lot more exciting and interesting

(27.) Poland: as soon as this stops, the exact same second, I forget everything about it. I don’t remember a single word, barely the title and singer and not the melody. what is this about? I can’t tell you. it’s not exactly bad, but it is so forgettable

(28.) Moldova: oh faster pop song? wow.. so.. original. I am starting to sound like those weird people that hate ballads. I don’t feel it and I don’t relate to it, but I also don’t hate it. the video though.. no thanks.

(29.) Italy: as so often: I see a lot of Italy fans on here and I can’t relate. it’s not for me, but it’s there and I can listen to it when I can’t reach the skip button for some reason

(30.) Austria: hm. Austria and Slovenia are going there. this is the better Amen song for me, but I don’t love it. it’s better than what Ana is trying to sell even though it’s super repetitive

🥀:

(31.) Serbia: I can’t tell you if it’s worse than last year but it’s less catchy. the lyrics are still bad. actually, maybe I am the lyrics police

(32.) Finland: this not my genre and I don’t really listen to it

(33.) Slovenia: nop. not for me in any way. I already said last year that I don’t like her voice and it didn’t change but now I also don’t love the message or weird vibe of this entry. I had it even lower, but I can’t push it up more. this is as high as I can rank it

(34.) Norway: I don’t like it. I don’t like the lyrics or melody or performance that was in the nf actually. I have a hard time understanding the concept even with the explanation it makes no sense to me

(35.) Portugal: I don’t like it. a lot of the parts of the melody are really not for me and borderline annoying, but definitely boring

(36.) Georgia: it’s boring. the last entry was at least something interesting, but this one is boring, which makes me a bit sad because his voice sounds and he seems like the guy that could make something cooler. I know I am not the person that can judge rock because I don’t listen to it too much, but I feel like he could have done something cooler and ‘rock’ it more

(37.) Latvia: again: I can’t even say if it’s worse or better than last year. maybe a bit better actually but, just as last time, I can’t listen to this. it annoys me and gives me a bit of a headache. I don’t think her style and voice is for me

(38.) Germany: I wouldn’t necessarily call it hate that I feel when I have to listen to this, even though that’s a funny play with the words of this title, but I definitely feel very annoyed by this song, so I simply don’t listen to it

(39.) Azerbaijan: the song sounds just like the last one, which I had placed on the 14. place in my own 2020 ranking, however, I can’t bring myself to support someone who posts war propaganda on their socials. it’s eurovision and about the songs, I know, but this is my blog and my ranking. so it’s a no for me this time and my last place in this ranking

[piracytheorist]

So I went down some t*rf tags the other day to find which blogs I should block, as you do, and of course in order to avoid accidentally blocking people who were mocking the ideology or sarcastically agreeing with it, I actually read the posts there and scrolled down some of the blogs.

And with some of the things I saw... it made me understand how they reel people in. In some of the stuff they said, I understood them. I understood their struggle, and their anger, and I got how their feelings could make them burst out the way they do in their blogs. Also the fact that many of the blogs I scrolled down and blocked were by women between the ages of 15 and 19 didn’t help. That’s the exact age where you do the most reckless, the most emotional, and the least experienced thinking. It’s when you think of something and immediately think you’re right, because you’re not developed enough, neither mentally, nor emotionally, nor from the aspect of life experiences, to know better and reflect on how well developed your thoughts are.

And to see them act the same way older t**fs do, like in the ages of 26+... it’s fucking scary. It genuinely feels like a cult, where teen women, frustrated with the misogyny they experience, come to a website to vent out their feelings about that and find passionate adult women agreeing with and supporting them and saying that they’re in the right to hate men and trans women... it solidifies their at then immature thoughts.

Like, give me one (1) cis woman who during her mid- or late teens didn’t hate men, even for just a few months, in reaction to being treated as lesser just for having a female body. Just one. I specifically did. I was, for a couple of years actually, believing the bullshit going around that “Girls are more mature than boys”, that “Girls love truly, boys only want sex”, that “Women are statistically smarter than men” etc etc. But then you grow up, you reflect on those thoughts and you go like “Damn older people are right when they say that teenagers do stupid stuff sometimes”.

And that’s the thing with being a teenager; it’s the time to do mistakes, it’s the time to screw up, to vent out your frustrations, and when you grow older and have more life experience, look back at how you used to think and say “Wow, cringe. Good thing I grew out of that.” Absolutely not saying that everything teenagers do is stupid, if anything, most people start discovering themselves at that age. But that’s it; it’s a start. And on that road you’ll make mistakes, you’ll reflect, you’ll change your mind, you’ll learn, you’ll grow. The things that you start connecting with as a teenager which you keep on in your adult life also change, in the way that you look at them deeper, you understand them differently... it’s like with favourite films. Any movie you love as a teenager and as an adult, you’ll have a different mindset on the two occasions. Even if it brings you back to those times, you still have developed and you see it in a different way. Both ways may be positive, or fundamentally similar, but they’re still different, maybe one is the evolution of the first; it’s still not 100% the same. Because you grew up. It’s kinda sad, in a way.

So the issue I have with indoctrinating young women into the t**f ideology from so early on, is that it’s an ideology based on hate. By saying that women are only those who experience misogyny, you’re basically normalizing misogyny and abuse, and averting the blame. You’re saying that it’s expected from men to be misogynistic, and that women should band together against the oppression... instead of looking into why men are misogynistic and looking how you can inspire change in that. It’s victim blaming, basically.

By saying that “trans women are not women because they don’t grow up experiencing the effects of misogyny and patriarchy on themselves” (in a way that’s bullshit but as a cis woman I can’t expand on that, read trans women’s stories instead), you’re putting the responsibility of erasing misogyny on trans women. And again, you’re normalizing the abuse, and you’re defining your gender by the abuse you went through.

Like, fuck no. I was bullied for more than half my school life. It has impacted me greatly, many of the emotional scars I carry them still, my character has been affected by the abuse I went through, but by fuck no does it define me. I choose to try to be kinder. I choose to see abuse as wrong. I choose to be an educator so that I can help bullying stop being a thing in the schools I’ll be teaching. And not because I feel ashamed, or that I pity children who are being bullied, but because I want to make this world a better place, because I believe in teaching the younger generation into not perpetuating any kind of hateful ideology.

That’s not what t**fs do. They just say they hate men and perpetuate the idea of female supremacy... as if women, even women who are privileged in every way other than having a female body, can never do wrong.

Like on one hand, they deify JKR who said that “I am not a victim, I do not pity myself and I’m growing out of my trauma strong” in a very, very victim-shaming way, and on the other hand they define their femininity on the fact that they’re victimized by the patriarchy. Make it make sense.

And in general, it is still an ideology based on hate. When you take a group of people that are struggling both on the inside (either through gender dysphoria or through the pressure of not feeling free to express themselves) and on the outside (either because they’re bullied if they act “out of the gender norm” or because of transphobia if they come out), and you hate on them, when you put the entire responsibility of erasing unrealistic expectations on beauty and appearance for women on that specific small group that’s in a fundamentally disadvantageous position... bro I don’t know what you call it, I call it targeting. You have your frustrations with the patriarchy and sexist men, and because those people won’t listen to you - mostly because they’re privileged and assisted in that by the system they create - and you take it out on a group of people that’s just trying to live their lives in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone.

Like, I saw someone being upset by people comparing t**fs to nazis because she’s Jewish and I’m like... how the heck can you not see the similarities? How can you grow up Jewish and not see that it’s wrong to target an entire group of people, massively hate on them, say that they “have an agenda” just because they want to be themselves and aren’t hurting anyone? How can you not see that cherry-picking the unkind or misled ones and defining the entire group by those few people is wrong?

In fact, how can you not see that “trans women are perpetuating Hollywood’s beauty standards for women” has the exact same basis as “immigrants of colour are stealing white people’s jobs”?

And you may say, “Lillpon, you’re doing the same with t**fs right now. You’re going out there and blocking them after having said you hate blocking people” and I’ll say, I am not hating on them. As I said, I’m scared by seeing how many of them are teenagers, but at the same time, it’s telling. It’s a cult-like mentality, it finds people who are frustrated with how they are treated, who feel wronged, who feel they’re in an unjust world, and it takes those feelings and targets it to one specific group or characteristic. For t**rfs, that’s the XY chromosome set. For neo-nazis, that’s non-Caucasian races. The whole “finding young people who are alone, who see that the world is unjust, who feel no-one listening to them and indoctrinating them to an ideology of hate” is point-blank exactly how neo-nazi groups work. Here is a very interesting TED talk on the matter by a former neo-nazi, if you’re interested.

Also, I never said I hate blocking people, or that I think it’s wrong. I just don’t think it’s something to be proud of, and in fact I’m not proud for blocking those people, I even feel a little guilty as I understand how many of them are just victims of indoctrination.

You’ll say, “But Lillpon, a lot of neo-nazis are spoiled, privileged white men! How can you know how privileged t**fs are??” And to that, I’ll turn communist and whisper in your ear, “The privileged are few. They’re the minority. And they depend on the lower classes fighting against each other so that people forget that it’s the privileged who make all the laws and standards that hurt all the lower classes.” To that extent, you can never, never know who truly hides behind the blogs and twitter accounts with “r*dfem lesbian” on their bio. There are many occasions, especially on twitter, where accounts that claimed to be queer poc were found out to be run by straight white men.

... So, who can guarantee that everyone running a blog with “r*dfem lesbian” on their bio is actually a cis, lesbian woman? And again, on its basis, it’s the same.

Neo-nazism is putting the blame on people of colour; that not only causes a rift between neo-nazis and poc, but also between neo-nazis and white people who oppose them. It’s in fact a pawn so that the white people in power - the people who are responsible for the problems poc and lower class white people face - can avoid having everyone against them. They give poc and less-racist lower class white people a scapegoat.

T**f ideology is putting the blame on people born in male bodies - absolutely no matter what their character is. Again, that causes rifts between t**fs and cis men, t**fs and trans people, and t**fs and cis women who support trans rights. Instead of focusing on seeing how we can stop cis men from being sexist - which of course will inconvenience the men in power who rose so high because misogyny is holding women back - we’re fighting against each other. It’s again, a pawn, a scapegoat, to distract us from blaming the one who’s truly to blame.

If anything, if you’re a t**f, the fact that what you do is helping the white men in power - because absolutely nothing you or your friends can do can affect them in a negative way - should be a reason by itself to not be a t**f. But what do I know.

[cowb0ygenius]

Interview with Julien Baker | From the Music Desk

Julien Baker is set to release a new album, "Little Oblivions" on Feb. 26. Baker is coming off the heels of her collaboration with Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus in their group Boygenius, and she played at Eaux Claires one year, playing background as Hanif Abdurraqib read poetry. Abdurraqib also wrote Baker's bio for the "Little Oblivions" release and once we started on our shared love for his work, there was no stopping our conversation. -88Nine Radio Milwaukee

[transcript under the cut]

Hi Julien!

Hello Justin!

Hey, how ya doing?

Uh, doing pretty well! Yeah, how are you?

I’m good. Uh, even before going into- even before reading your bio I was going to ask you about Hanif Abdurraqib, and then-

Yeah!

And then I was so fortunate to read the bio [laughs]

I, when he agreed to do that, I was like- [gestures] I was like, emotional? I was like, “I love Hanif!” I actually met- it’s so weird, I like, met/heard, became familiar with his writing, his poetry at, like, a christian writing conference in Grand Rapids?

When?

Um… Oh my gosh, was it 2017? Had to be 2017. Because 2018… yeah. I think it was like a couple of years ago. Um, and then like-

Why were you both there? … Speaking on Christian writing?

Okay so here- the, um, the person who ran it, um, was so sweet, and had like- so we had played there… “we.” This was before I toured with a band. But uh, played with violin. We had played there at this Christian college, um, in Grand Rapids, like just on tour, because whoever ran the events was like- I don’t wanna say “really cool” as if that’s an anomaly for people who- for people of faith, but like-

Sure!

I played there, they had asked Torres to play there, you know-

Hanif was there…

Hanif was there. Yeah, it seemed like the people programming wanted to have a dialogue that wasn’t so- like- the- I don’t- man. It’s funny, ‘cause now I don’t really like using words like “secular.” Um.. [laughs] There’s just this weird otherness, when you call something “secular.” You’re like, “oh…. Secular.”

[laughs]

But uh.. yeah! Just wanted to incorporate, like, non-faith based art as an exploration of like, more abstract ways of how, how we see God?

Mhm.

Umm… like, what that even is? Which I- I like, of course, I was like 20 years old and I was like “THIS IS MY LANEE” Um, I gave at- at that- I’m s- I’m a little embarrassed, but also…. God bless young Julien. I gave like a fucking powerpoint presentation at that conference-

Wow!

AT THAT CONFERENCE, about how [laughs] about how hardcore music, um, was an analog to the tenets of the Gospel.

How so?

Oh my gosh. I don’t know. I-

Hit me with the thesis!

Man, I don’t wanna- I just- It’s funny because I- back then I was trying to have a thesis. And I thought I ha- I had a lot of philosophies to deploy. And now I don’t. [long pause] Uh… Now I don’t. I’m not so- It’s not like I’m not so sure of them but I just have… you know, even back then where it was like this weird disclaimer I would put at the beginning of everything, like, “well I don’t know anything, but what I’ve found and how I understand faith,” and it’s just kind of like… I… I now feel responsible for, kind of, representing an ideology, or trying to pitch people an ideology that was not realistic. [chuckles] Or like-

What was your ideology?

I don’t know! I thought that, that…. [scoffs] It was a lot of stuff. Um, I thought, you know, I thought living out my faith, and- God, this is probably- I don’t wanna do this to another artist, uh, and be like, “Well I really liked what they said, so I did just like them!” Uh, but I- my favorite band was mewithoutYou? And,

Mhm.

It still is! mewithoutYou rocks. Um, but, I like…. Took everything about their ethos and how... Aaron like, characterized God and like the things that they did and tried to apply it to my own life in this way that when I look back on it now was really like- it was like, not that extreme but I wanted to be? You know? I wanted to have like, one shirt.

Oh, yeah.

And to not have- and like, take all the rider food and walk around outside and give it to homeless people.

Yeah.

That’s not- like, okay.

I get that, I get that.

That’s not inherently bad! That is not inherently bad. But, like… I think that I like, hung all of those actions on this belief that like, there was a true- like if I could only just find out what being right is.

Mm.

What God wants. What, uh- how to best love other people. What the right thing to do is.

Mm.

Then I could- and I was like- but you know, it’s because I held all these crazy standards for myself, of being like… ultimately kind? Then when I was like human and I did something shitty, I would have a panic attack about it. You know?

Yeah. Yes.

Like… and, I was just like- but it’s basically so I’m standing up here in a frickin’ tweed blazer, at this Christian conference, trying to be like, “Here’s how I learned love.” Right? Like, “I learned love because people at a church that was a little bit more progressive than the churches I had been to in high school, um, invited me over for dinner, no strings attached, and I was happy that someone was taking interest in me and being kind to me and loving me with no caveat?”

Mhm.

And the other place I found that was.. punk shows. The other place I found that, was, you know, and it was all wrapped up to in like… me being attached to like, straight-edge ideology. Which ha- like, can be useful as like an offshoot of like an understanding of sobriety but also has a lot to do with purity culture? And like… [gestures]

Yeah.

You know? It’s- it’s just- difficult! And so now, I’m like- I just have less to say. You wouldn’t know it ‘cause I just talked, like-

[laughs]

I just had like a 10 minute run-on sentence, obviously. But like, I have- I have less. 

You think that’s ‘cause you have a larger audience?

Woah!

You think it’s harder to say something if you have a larger audience?

…. Oh god. You know what? I was gonna say no, but actually that might be a part of it. Like, I’d never thought of it like that before, but- man. I used to, like, if I were gonna tweet something, something that I f- that I shouldn’t feel so anxious about like, like- tweeting.

Yeah.

Like, first of all, it’s Twi- it’s like an imaginary digital realm. Like, i- it’s powerful! It’s powerful to educate, to organize, to um- you know, especially like...  whatever, I’m not even gonna get off on that, ‘cause that’ll be like the whole interview. But, I would st- I would have to- I would be like visibly sweating and have to turn my phone off if I was just like, “Hey! please like donate to this organization that’s trying to not put children in cages at the border.” But it’s like, why? I have- with my- with the whole fabric of my being believe that’s the right thing to do, and I have this like, “well what if, what if you’re wrong? What if you hurt someone’s feelings?” And I’m just like, dude- I- I- it’s just like, the more people- I didn’t even… When I was a kid, I just wanted to play music, and I pretty much thought that I was going to be a teacher, and then I was going to use summer break to tour with my band. And just kinda be… a thirty-year-old, like, rock chick.

Cool. Mhm.

Who was just… touring bars.

Cool teacher.

And like, I don’t- I don’t know! I didn’t want- but the same thing is, like, I had somebody say to me really early on, I was like- I said to them—it was my friend Ryan Rado, who made the painting for the Turn Out the Lights album cover—I was like, “Man, the most- I feel like the only thing I wanna do with a microphone when I get it is turn it away because I always learned about shows being about… gang vocals! And like-

[laughs]

And that’s kind of- that’s like- that’s literal, but also, it has implications on how you understand… your platform as a musician. It’s like yeah, I’m just, like… you know? All the people watching my band are just the other bands that just played. So we’re all kinda on the same…

[laughs]

…plane?

Uhuh? [laughs]

Um, and it’s like- now- and i- he said to me- he was like, “But you can’t change the fact that you have the microphone.”

Mhmm.

“So you’re going to have to say something into it anyway.”

Yeah.

And then I was like, “Well what do I say?” [chuckles] What do I say if I wanna- if I truly want the world to be a better place. What can I say, to make whoever follows the Julien Baker music account on Twitter-

[laughs]

-think about being a better person! And I’m not- like, it sounds like I’m be- I’m being so mean to myself, because like… that’s true. Like I want to put ideas and links to articles and history podcasts about like- I want to put that in front of the people that trust me enough to smash that follow button. You know? Like-

Yeah.

I- I wanna try. But I… I can’t, like, I think I- I really just wanted to be good. And-

Yeah.

But it’s so… I don’t wanna be like, “it’s hard to be good,” because that’s like a cop out of like, “Well, I should just be average.” [laughs] But like.. yeah man. It’s difficult, to all of the sudden have-

The-

Yeah-

There’s a low threshold for forgiveness on twitter, you know?

Good God, yeah. Yeah.

I mean it’s like that, you know, it’s hard!

Yeah!

I mean I- I- I read a tweet that Hanif liked today, you know it was like in my feed of, like, “Hanif liked this.” And it was like something about Ocean Vuong—who I love—um, but I guess like, Ocean like, said something today or something like that? And then it was like a… there was like a poet that was like, “This should also be a place for learning.” This- like, if someone said something, this should also be a place for forgiveness. And sometimes, we’re- sometimes we’re still figuring it out! And that’s okay-

Yeah!

-And that’s a really tough thing to do.

No, um, Ha- uh, I was just reading like, I think it was Hayley Williams was tweeting this whole long thing about like saying “womxn” with an x? And then like, like all- like, I didn’t even understand it. Like, what was the- I was just like, “okay!” I guess there was somebody that had a problem with this, and then she was just like, “Thanks. Thanks for letting me know that was problematic, I won’t do that anymore.” And I wish- I wish that I… ha- like- maybe I will get to a point where I’m like- It’s like, “I know I’m problematic! I’m- everybody’s problematic!”

[laughs]

But not least of all, me! You know?

[laughs]

Um, but I’m so afraid it’s like I will sit there and concoct what I want to say in an interview, or like- like when I have to do email interviews my manager will send me like four- like, “Hey, you- you really need to get this done”

[laughs]

Because I will sit here for seven hours, in this spot in my apartment, and be like, “That’s not the best way to say that! I could say it better!” You know, I’m just like- and then inevitably I’ll read it the next week and I’ll be like, “still sounds dumb.” Like, I just-

[laughs] You can’t win, Julien!

Can’t win! Yeah but it’s- it’s freeing. Its freeing to know that you can’t win.

For sure. Um- I’m going to have to wrap this up. We’re-

I’m so sorry!

Um- er- I think we have like two more minutes- I know, it’s been a quick 15. Yeah, um, you had said that mewithoutYou is, um, is your favorite band? And I would- I wanna come out of this with a song to play- could you tell me a mewithoutYou song that we can play? And why you like it?

Wowwww… okay. I’m sorry. I’m like a stan of them so I’m like mulling through their entire discography in my head right now.

Sure.

Um- oh my God. You know what? It’s a weird one, and I feel like.. mewithoutYou fans don’t hate me for not saying, like, 19- 1979 or whatever? But… um… play King Beetle and the Coconut Estate. That one’s really cool. It’s about beetles who think that God is like a light and then they all fight it- it’s like a really cool microcosmic little fable that is a really merciful way to look at humans trying to figure out what heaven or god or rightness is. But it’s just little bugs. [laughs]

[laughs]

Talking to each other! It’s really cute. King Beetle and the Coconut Estate.

Perfect

Yeah. Yeah!

Um, and thank you. I mean, that’s- that was the fastest 15 minutes I’ve uh ever spent!

Oh my gosh! We didn’t even- We just talked about a Christian music conference!

[laughs] We didn’t even really like get to Hanif, or-

I’m so- I’m so sorry!

Oh no, oh my God! The best is when you, uh, make a plan and then you throw the, you know, road map out the window.

Yeah!

This is my dream conversation!

Okay! [laughs] Well good! Thank you! It’s been- I’ve enjoyed this conversation quite thoroughly.

Me too! Thank you! Uh- and thank you for the, thank you for the music! Consistently throughout your career, and-

Oh! Yeah, I try!

And thanks for the, for the new record.

[the-melting-world]

🌔 Sun Bai Masterlist 🌔

Sun Bai’s Bio Sun Bai’s Art Commissions Sun Bai’s Aesthetics

*Rest is under the cut*

Asks & HCs

Kissing Headcanons

Random NSFW Headcanons 🍋 

Music Asks 🎶 

Music Asks 🎼

Planty OC Asks 🥀

Planty OC Asks 💐

Planty OC Asks 🌺🌴

Planty OC Asks🌻

Emoji Starters 😬

Emoji Starters 😝

Emoji Starters 😘

Emoji Starters 😴

Emoji Starters 😤

Odd Affection Asks 1

Cuisine Asks

Cosmic Asks ✨

Cosmic Asks ⭐️ 🌖 

Cosmic Asks ☄☀

Fics & Drabbles

The Nautilus Collection ~ fics that chronicle Sun Bai’s journey to piratehood

Don’t Call Me Daughter

Just Pray

Ace of Swords

Queen of Pentacles

Midsummer Masquerade Masterlist 🍋

OC Relationship Key:

(💖 ~ going strong!) (💛 ~ platonic!) (💕 ~ friends with potential! / super new crush) (🖤 ~ frenemies / rivals / enemies with benefits)

🖤Featuring OC Rodrigo🖤

Smut Starters/Symbols “I’ve wanted...” + [palm] 🍋

I think you’re beautiful (ask game)

Bad Romance 🍋

💖Featuring OC Jacqui💖

Gibraltar

Roses 🍋 by @into-the-daniverse

I think you’re beautiful (ask game)

OC Dialogue Prompts: “Wow. You’re really strong.”

Goosebumps 🍋

50 Kiss Prompts #12: Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss by @into-the-daniverse  

Chasing Cars by @into-the-daniverse

You’re Too Precious

Wonderful 🍋

💖Featuring Apprentice Calamity💖

Smut Starters/Symbols [wall]

You Act Like a Child collab with @lucigucci 

Soft Sentence Starters: “You look good in it.”

Soft Sentence Starters: “I won’t forget this moment” by @lucigucci

Trains by @lucigucci

Jars

Room by @lucigucci

Look Me in My Eyes 🍋

Valentine’s Day Prompt: [love letter]

💖Featuring Apprentice Cadenza💖

Smut Starts/Symbols “Please touch...” 🍋  by @arcanecadenza

Morning Rain

Smut Prompts: “Shall we put that mouth to better use?” + “Oh, you’re drooling everywhere” 🍋

Secret Place

Smut prompt(s): “Look how good you take it,” “God, you feel amazing,” “I want to see you, want to watch you come” 🍋 by @arcanecadenza

Spicy Asks! 🍋 collab with @arcanecadenza

Your Touch 🍋 by @arcanecadenza

💕Featuring OC Sybilla💕

I think you’re beautiful (ask game)

Stick

Run by @atypicalacademic

50 Kiss Prompts: 3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond

💖Featuring OC Olivia💖

Valentine’s Day Prompts: [flowers]

Paint and Starlight by @popcornaddict500

“I want to know what makes you happy.” by @popcornaddict500

They Won’t Bite by @popcornaddict500

Don’t Get Lost in the Blue Forest by @popcornaddict500

50 Kiss Prompts: 16. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person by @popcornaddict500

50 Kiss Prompts: 26. Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear

“Honor’s Useless Here” by @popcornaddict500

Silver and Cold

Winter OC Prompts: Keeping warm by a fire + One character shocking the other with their cold hands by @popcornaddict500

Winter OC Prompts: Sharing traditions/stories about winters past

100 ways to say ‘I love you’ prompts: 'I was in the neighborhood.’ + 'I brought you an umbrella.’

Valentine’s Asks 💎