kuni on fire

kuni's side blog yeah im a dog boygirl thing

[kunfire]

HI! i am kuni i am 16 and i’m really cool and im a THEY/THEM i think

im into LOTF but im also into greek mythology, epic the musical, and yumeshipping too! most of you know me from lotf though

this is my side blog because i want to keep @everettes-requiem clean! i’ll reblog and post some stuff YAY!!! i’ll make my intro post prettier

[kunfire]

elton makes me so mad elton fuck you die die die elton i hate you so much

[virtuesandvices]

you came from him, yet you were apart of me

will my love be enough to remedy you?

req by @/conchcorner ty i missed drawing them

[kunfire]

genderbent everette would make for the ultimate fem lesbian i dont make the rules

[kunfire]

The tadc merch pipeline finally caught me and your my only moot who I know also has watched tadc

They r so important to me kuni ;(

omg hi vic!!! OH THEY ARE SO CUTE queenie and kinger… they deserve the best ever. thanks for sharing with me, i always love seeing what merch people have!! these tadc figures are so cute

[angels-enclave]

"lozifarico" it's a voice she has heard before through wind and smoke, arguments and half-reconciliations. though, never one that has directly spoken to her, up until now that is. when she turns around, ainsworth is standing in front of her, their eyes catching for a moment. but, he doesn't look... mean, as he usually does with the other boys his age. if anything, the everette ainsworth, looks awkward? why is that? nevertheless, it's strange and it certainly doesnt suit him. he clears his throat, quietly.

“would you mind..." helping. he means to ask for help, but it does not leave his mouth, as if the word doesn’t exist in his everyday vernacular. his pride, really, is anything but palpable. though, he knows angie is smart enough to pick up the implications, so he doesn't bother finishing his sentence properly for once— something he surely would have gotten scolded for back at home. his father didn’t exactly appreciate loose ends when words were so easy to intertwine, per his words, especially when it came to conveying his disappointment it seems. but, his father is not here, and this place was evidently not home. not in the slightest.

he sighs, irritated, though not at her. “it's beginning to become a nuisance, but i'd rather not cut it, less i risk snipping off to much and looking like simon during that one retreat" the image in his mind alone is enough to bring back a more prominent frown on his face, cringing almost in flared disgust.

he mumbles something underneath his breath, nearly in reluctance, his eyes narrowing at her slightly before he points a finger to the two pigtails that drape down the sides of her nape. “you seem to know your way around hair, like you know what you're doing. can't say ‘hat about most people here, don't you agree?" he then points a finger at his own hair. golden locks that have grown past the term of short, at least for a boy. they curl at the edges, and are cleanly from his constant washes in the ocean waters, but they are quite tangled and the hairs that frame his face get in his eyes. he tilts his head then, looking off to the side.

"so i'd rather have someone do something with it, rather than snip it to shreds. i 'hought you might have the qualifications. do you not?"

— everette ainsworth @everettes-requiem 🐑

She lightly narrowed her almond eyes and looked him up and down as if to contemplate. She wasn’t a big fan of most of the boys on the island, but she always enjoyed a compliment and this one seemed, less unbearable.

“I suppose I do. Tie up my own hair enough.”

She produced a small shred of fabric that had once been white, perhaps a length torn from one of the many abandoned shirts.

“A little boring in terms of ribbon, but it should work just as good,” she motioned to a fallen length of tree, “Sit there if you want me to fix it.”

She took a particularly long shred methodically wrapped them around her hand, and then began to section the blond boy’s hair.

“Your bangs are too short for a ponytail, that’s the hair style I’m doing for you- I thought you probably wouldn’t want pigtails and I don’t know how to do a bun,”

She allowed the front of his hair to hang low, but scooped up as much as would be comfortable into a clump on the back of his head, and placed her palm on top of it. The fabric on her hand unraveling like a spool of thread to loop around his hair a few times.

“The point is, you’ll have to live with some hair in your face. Don’t think it’ll be too different, probably still longer than you’re used to, but the heaviest parts are up and out of the way at least.”

She finished a final wrap around his hair and tied a bow around it. Maybe not the nicest bow, or the neatest, but it’d keep secure for a good while.

“Alright,” She bore a light smile, trying to hide the simple joy of usefulness, and patted him on the back, “You’re done. Come back if you need me to redo it I guess.”

[angels-enclave]

"lozifarico" it's a voice she has heard before through wind and smoke, arguments and half-reconciliations. though, never one that has directly spoken to her, up until now that is. when she turns around, ainsworth is standing in front of her, their eyes catching for a moment. but, he doesn't look... mean, as he usually does with the other boys his age. if anything, the everette ainsworth, looks awkward? why is that? nevertheless, it's strange and it certainly doesnt suit him. he clears his throat, quietly.

“would you mind..." helping. he means to ask for help, but it does not leave his mouth, as if the word doesn’t exist in his everyday vernacular. his pride, really, is anything but palpable. though, he knows angie is smart enough to pick up the implications, so he doesn't bother finishing his sentence properly for once— something he surely would have gotten scolded for back at home. his father didn’t exactly appreciate loose ends when words were so easy to intertwine, per his words, especially when it came to conveying his disappointment it seems. but, his father is not here, and this place was evidently not home. not in the slightest.

he sighs, irritated, though not at her. “it's beginning to become a nuisance, but i'd rather not cut it, less i risk snipping off to much and looking like simon during that one retreat" the image in his mind alone is enough to bring back a more prominent frown on his face, cringing almost in flared disgust.

he mumbles something underneath his breath, nearly in reluctance, his eyes narrowing at her slightly before he points a finger to the two pigtails that drape down the sides of her nape. “you seem to know your way around hair, like you know what you're doing. can't say ‘hat about most people here, don't you agree?" he then points a finger at his own hair. golden locks that have grown past the term of short, at least for a boy. they curl at the edges, and are cleanly from his constant washes in the ocean waters, but they are quite tangled and the hairs that frame his face get in his eyes. he tilts his head then, looking off to the side.

"so i'd rather have someone do something with it, rather than snip it to shreds. i 'hought you might have the qualifications. do you not?"

— everette ainsworth @everettes-requiem 🐑

She lightly narrowed her almond eyes and looked him up and down as if to contemplate. She wasn’t a big fan of most of the boys on the island, but she always enjoyed a compliment and this one seemed, less unbearable.

“I suppose I do. Tie up my own hair enough.”

She produced a small shred of fabric that had once been white, perhaps a length torn from one of the many abandoned shirts.

“A little boring in terms of ribbon, but it should work just as good,” she motioned to a fallen length of tree, “Sit there if you want me to fix it.”

She took a particularly long shred methodically wrapped them around her hand, and then began to section the blond boy’s hair.

“Your bangs are too short for a ponytail, that’s the hair style I’m doing for you- I thought you probably wouldn’t want pigtails and I don’t know how to do a bun,”

She allowed the front of his hair to hang low, but scooped up as much as would be comfortable into a clump on the back of his head, and placed her palm on top of it. The fabric on her hand unraveling like a spool of thread to loop around his hair a few times.

“The point is, you’ll have to live with some hair in your face. Don’t think it’ll be too different, probably still longer than you’re used to, but the heaviest parts are up and out of the way at least.”

She finished a final wrap around his hair and tied a bow around it. Maybe not the nicest bow, or the neatest, but it’d keep secure for a good while.

“Alright,” She bore a light smile, trying to hide the simple joy of usefulness, and patted him on the back, “You’re done. Come back if you need me to redo it I guess.”

[angels-enclave]

"lozifarico" it's a voice she has heard before through wind and smoke, arguments and half-reconciliations. though, never one that has directly spoken to her, up until now that is. when she turns around, ainsworth is standing in front of her, their eyes catching for a moment. but, he doesn't look... mean, as he usually does with the other boys his age. if anything, the everette ainsworth, looks awkward? why is that? nevertheless, it's strange and it certainly doesnt suit him. he clears his throat, quietly.

“would you mind..." helping. he means to ask for help, but it does not leave his mouth, as if the word doesn’t exist in his everyday vernacular. his pride, really, is anything but palpable. though, he knows angie is smart enough to pick up the implications, so he doesn't bother finishing his sentence properly for once— something he surely would have gotten scolded for back at home. his father didn’t exactly appreciate loose ends when words were so easy to intertwine, per his words, especially when it came to conveying his disappointment it seems. but, his father is not here, and this place was evidently not home. not in the slightest.

he sighs, irritated, though not at her. “it's beginning to become a nuisance, but i'd rather not cut it, less i risk snipping off to much and looking like simon during that one retreat" the image in his mind alone is enough to bring back a more prominent frown on his face, cringing almost in flared disgust.

he mumbles something underneath his breath, nearly in reluctance, his eyes narrowing at her slightly before he points a finger to the two pigtails that drape down the sides of her nape. “you seem to know your way around hair, like you know what you're doing. can't say ‘hat about most people here, don't you agree?" he then points a finger at his own hair. golden locks that have grown past the term of short, at least for a boy. they curl at the edges, and are cleanly from his constant washes in the ocean waters, but they are quite tangled and the hairs that frame his face get in his eyes. he tilts his head then, looking off to the side.

"so i'd rather have someone do something with it, rather than snip it to shreds. i 'hought you might have the qualifications. do you not?"

— everette ainsworth @everettes-requiem 🐑

She lightly narrowed her almond eyes and looked him up and down as if to contemplate. She wasn’t a big fan of most of the boys on the island, but she always enjoyed a compliment and this one seemed, less unbearable.

“I suppose I do. Tie up my own hair enough.”

She produced a small shred of fabric that had once been white, perhaps a length torn from one of the many abandoned shirts.

“A little boring in terms of ribbon, but it should work just as good,” she motioned to a fallen length of tree, “Sit there if you want me to fix it.”

She took a particularly long shred methodically wrapped them around her hand, and then began to section the blond boy’s hair.

“Your bangs are too short for a ponytail, that’s the hair style I’m doing for you- I thought you probably wouldn’t want pigtails and I don’t know how to do a bun,”

She allowed the front of his hair to hang low, but scooped up as much as would be comfortable into a clump on the back of his head, and placed her palm on top of it. The fabric on her hand unraveling like a spool of thread to loop around his hair a few times.

“The point is, you’ll have to live with some hair in your face. Don’t think it’ll be too different, probably still longer than you’re used to, but the heaviest parts are up and out of the way at least.”

She finished a final wrap around his hair and tied a bow around it. Maybe not the nicest bow, or the neatest, but it’d keep secure for a good while.

“Alright,” She bore a light smile, trying to hide the simple joy of usefulness, and patted him on the back, “You’re done. Come back if you need me to redo it I guess.”

[angels-enclave]

"lozifarico" it's a voice she has heard before through wind and smoke, arguments and half-reconciliations. though, never one that has directly spoken to her, up until now that is. when she turns around, ainsworth is standing in front of her, their eyes catching for a moment. but, he doesn't look... mean, as he usually does with the other boys his age. if anything, the everette ainsworth, looks awkward? why is that? nevertheless, it's strange and it certainly doesnt suit him. he clears his throat, quietly.

“would you mind..." helping. he means to ask for help, but it does not leave his mouth, as if the word doesn’t exist in his everyday vernacular. his pride, really, is anything but palpable. though, he knows angie is smart enough to pick up the implications, so he doesn't bother finishing his sentence properly for once— something he surely would have gotten scolded for back at home. his father didn’t exactly appreciate loose ends when words were so easy to intertwine, per his words, especially when it came to conveying his disappointment it seems. but, his father is not here, and this place was evidently not home. not in the slightest.

he sighs, irritated, though not at her. “it's beginning to become a nuisance, but i'd rather not cut it, less i risk snipping off to much and looking like simon during that one retreat" the image in his mind alone is enough to bring back a more prominent frown on his face, cringing almost in flared disgust.

he mumbles something underneath his breath, nearly in reluctance, his eyes narrowing at her slightly before he points a finger to the two pigtails that drape down the sides of her nape. “you seem to know your way around hair, like you know what you're doing. can't say ‘hat about most people here, don't you agree?" he then points a finger at his own hair. golden locks that have grown past the term of short, at least for a boy. they curl at the edges, and are cleanly from his constant washes in the ocean waters, but they are quite tangled and the hairs that frame his face get in his eyes. he tilts his head then, looking off to the side.

"so i'd rather have someone do something with it, rather than snip it to shreds. i 'hought you might have the qualifications. do you not?"

— everette ainsworth @everettes-requiem 🐑

She lightly narrowed her almond eyes and looked him up and down as if to contemplate. She wasn’t a big fan of most of the boys on the island, but she always enjoyed a compliment and this one seemed, less unbearable.

“I suppose I do. Tie up my own hair enough.”

She produced a small shred of fabric that had once been white, perhaps a length torn from one of the many abandoned shirts.

“A little boring in terms of ribbon, but it should work just as good,” she motioned to a fallen length of tree, “Sit there if you want me to fix it.”

She took a particularly long shred methodically wrapped them around her hand, and then began to section the blond boy’s hair.

“Your bangs are too short for a ponytail, that’s the hair style I’m doing for you- I thought you probably wouldn’t want pigtails and I don’t know how to do a bun,”

She allowed the front of his hair to hang low, but scooped up as much as would be comfortable into a clump on the back of his head, and placed her palm on top of it. The fabric on her hand unraveling like a spool of thread to loop around his hair a few times.

“The point is, you’ll have to live with some hair in your face. Don’t think it’ll be too different, probably still longer than you’re used to, but the heaviest parts are up and out of the way at least.”

She finished a final wrap around his hair and tied a bow around it. Maybe not the nicest bow, or the neatest, but it’d keep secure for a good while.

“Alright,” She bore a light smile, trying to hide the simple joy of usefulness, and patted him on the back, “You’re done. Come back if you need me to redo it I guess.”

[angels-enclave]

"lozifarico" it's a voice she has heard before through wind and smoke, arguments and half-reconciliations. though, never one that has directly spoken to her, up until now that is. when she turns around, ainsworth is standing in front of her, their eyes catching for a moment. but, he doesn't look... mean, as he usually does with the other boys his age. if anything, the everette ainsworth, looks awkward? why is that? nevertheless, it's strange and it certainly doesnt suit him. he clears his throat, quietly.

“would you mind..." helping. he means to ask for help, but it does not leave his mouth, as if the word doesn’t exist in his everyday vernacular. his pride, really, is anything but palpable. though, he knows angie is smart enough to pick up the implications, so he doesn't bother finishing his sentence properly for once— something he surely would have gotten scolded for back at home. his father didn’t exactly appreciate loose ends when words were so easy to intertwine, per his words, especially when it came to conveying his disappointment it seems. but, his father is not here, and this place was evidently not home. not in the slightest.

he sighs, irritated, though not at her. “it's beginning to become a nuisance, but i'd rather not cut it, less i risk snipping off to much and looking like simon during that one retreat" the image in his mind alone is enough to bring back a more prominent frown on his face, cringing almost in flared disgust.

he mumbles something underneath his breath, nearly in reluctance, his eyes narrowing at her slightly before he points a finger to the two pigtails that drape down the sides of her nape. “you seem to know your way around hair, like you know what you're doing. can't say ‘hat about most people here, don't you agree?" he then points a finger at his own hair. golden locks that have grown past the term of short, at least for a boy. they curl at the edges, and are cleanly from his constant washes in the ocean waters, but they are quite tangled and the hairs that frame his face get in his eyes. he tilts his head then, looking off to the side.

"so i'd rather have someone do something with it, rather than snip it to shreds. i 'hought you might have the qualifications. do you not?"

— everette ainsworth @everettes-requiem 🐑

She lightly narrowed her almond eyes and looked him up and down as if to contemplate. She wasn’t a big fan of most of the boys on the island, but she always enjoyed a compliment and this one seemed, less unbearable.

“I suppose I do. Tie up my own hair enough.”

She produced a small shred of fabric that had once been white, perhaps a length torn from one of the many abandoned shirts.

“A little boring in terms of ribbon, but it should work just as good,” she motioned to a fallen length of tree, “Sit there if you want me to fix it.”

She took a particularly long shred methodically wrapped them around her hand, and then began to section the blond boy’s hair.

“Your bangs are too short for a ponytail, that’s the hair style I’m doing for you- I thought you probably wouldn’t want pigtails and I don’t know how to do a bun,”

She allowed the front of his hair to hang low, but scooped up as much as would be comfortable into a clump on the back of his head, and placed her palm on top of it. The fabric on her hand unraveling like a spool of thread to loop around his hair a few times.

“The point is, you’ll have to live with some hair in your face. Don’t think it’ll be too different, probably still longer than you’re used to, but the heaviest parts are up and out of the way at least.”

She finished a final wrap around his hair and tied a bow around it. Maybe not the nicest bow, or the neatest, but it’d keep secure for a good while.

“Alright,” She bore a light smile, trying to hide the simple joy of usefulness, and patted him on the back, “You’re done. Come back if you need me to redo it I guess.”

[angels-enclave]

"lozifarico" it's a voice she has heard before through wind and smoke, arguments and half-reconciliations. though, never one that has directly spoken to her, up until now that is. when she turns around, ainsworth is standing in front of her, their eyes catching for a moment. but, he doesn't look... mean, as he usually does with the other boys his age. if anything, the everette ainsworth, looks awkward? why is that? nevertheless, it's strange and it certainly doesnt suit him. he clears his throat, quietly.

“would you mind..." helping. he means to ask for help, but it does not leave his mouth, as if the word doesn’t exist in his everyday vernacular. his pride, really, is anything but palpable. though, he knows angie is smart enough to pick up the implications, so he doesn't bother finishing his sentence properly for once— something he surely would have gotten scolded for back at home. his father didn’t exactly appreciate loose ends when words were so easy to intertwine, per his words, especially when it came to conveying his disappointment it seems. but, his father is not here, and this place was evidently not home. not in the slightest.

he sighs, irritated, though not at her. “it's beginning to become a nuisance, but i'd rather not cut it, less i risk snipping off to much and looking like simon during that one retreat" the image in his mind alone is enough to bring back a more prominent frown on his face, cringing almost in flared disgust.

he mumbles something underneath his breath, nearly in reluctance, his eyes narrowing at her slightly before he points a finger to the two pigtails that drape down the sides of her nape. “you seem to know your way around hair, like you know what you're doing. can't say ‘hat about most people here, don't you agree?" he then points a finger at his own hair. golden locks that have grown past the term of short, at least for a boy. they curl at the edges, and are cleanly from his constant washes in the ocean waters, but they are quite tangled and the hairs that frame his face get in his eyes. he tilts his head then, looking off to the side.

"so i'd rather have someone do something with it, rather than snip it to shreds. i 'hought you might have the qualifications. do you not?"

— everette ainsworth @everettes-requiem 🐑

She lightly narrowed her almond eyes and looked him up and down as if to contemplate. She wasn’t a big fan of most of the boys on the island, but she always enjoyed a compliment and this one seemed, less unbearable.

“I suppose I do. Tie up my own hair enough.”

She produced a small shred of fabric that had once been white, perhaps a length torn from one of the many abandoned shirts.

“A little boring in terms of ribbon, but it should work just as good,” she motioned to a fallen length of tree, “Sit there if you want me to fix it.”

She took a particularly long shred methodically wrapped them around her hand, and then began to section the blond boy’s hair.

“Your bangs are too short for a ponytail, that’s the hair style I’m doing for you- I thought you probably wouldn’t want pigtails and I don’t know how to do a bun,”

She allowed the front of his hair to hang low, but scooped up as much as would be comfortable into a clump on the back of his head, and placed her palm on top of it. The fabric on her hand unraveling like a spool of thread to loop around his hair a few times.

“The point is, you’ll have to live with some hair in your face. Don’t think it’ll be too different, probably still longer than you’re used to, but the heaviest parts are up and out of the way at least.”

She finished a final wrap around his hair and tied a bow around it. Maybe not the nicest bow, or the neatest, but it’d keep secure for a good while.

“Alright,” She bore a light smile, trying to hide the simple joy of usefulness, and patted him on the back, “You’re done. Come back if you need me to redo it I guess.”

[angels-enclave]

"lozifarico" it's a voice she has heard before through wind and smoke, arguments and half-reconciliations. though, never one that has directly spoken to her, up until now that is. when she turns around, ainsworth is standing in front of her, their eyes catching for a moment. but, he doesn't look... mean, as he usually does with the other boys his age. if anything, the everette ainsworth, looks awkward? why is that? nevertheless, it's strange and it certainly doesnt suit him. he clears his throat, quietly.

“would you mind..." helping. he means to ask for help, but it does not leave his mouth, as if the word doesn’t exist in his everyday vernacular. his pride, really, is anything but palpable. though, he knows angie is smart enough to pick up the implications, so he doesn't bother finishing his sentence properly for once— something he surely would have gotten scolded for back at home. his father didn’t exactly appreciate loose ends when words were so easy to intertwine, per his words, especially when it came to conveying his disappointment it seems. but, his father is not here, and this place was evidently not home. not in the slightest.

he sighs, irritated, though not at her. “it's beginning to become a nuisance, but i'd rather not cut it, less i risk snipping off to much and looking like simon during that one retreat" the image in his mind alone is enough to bring back a more prominent frown on his face, cringing almost in flared disgust.

he mumbles something underneath his breath, nearly in reluctance, his eyes narrowing at her slightly before he points a finger to the two pigtails that drape down the sides of her nape. “you seem to know your way around hair, like you know what you're doing. can't say ‘hat about most people here, don't you agree?" he then points a finger at his own hair. golden locks that have grown past the term of short, at least for a boy. they curl at the edges, and are cleanly from his constant washes in the ocean waters, but they are quite tangled and the hairs that frame his face get in his eyes. he tilts his head then, looking off to the side.

"so i'd rather have someone do something with it, rather than snip it to shreds. i 'hought you might have the qualifications. do you not?"

— everette ainsworth @everettes-requiem 🐑

She lightly narrowed her almond eyes and looked him up and down as if to contemplate. She wasn’t a big fan of most of the boys on the island, but she always enjoyed a compliment and this one seemed, less unbearable.

“I suppose I do. Tie up my own hair enough.”

She produced a small shred of fabric that had once been white, perhaps a length torn from one of the many abandoned shirts.

“A little boring in terms of ribbon, but it should work just as good,” she motioned to a fallen length of tree, “Sit there if you want me to fix it.”

She took a particularly long shred methodically wrapped them around her hand, and then began to section the blond boy’s hair.

“Your bangs are too short for a ponytail, that’s the hair style I’m doing for you- I thought you probably wouldn’t want pigtails and I don’t know how to do a bun,”

She allowed the front of his hair to hang low, but scooped up as much as would be comfortable into a clump on the back of his head, and placed her palm on top of it. The fabric on her hand unraveling like a spool of thread to loop around his hair a few times.

“The point is, you’ll have to live with some hair in your face. Don’t think it’ll be too different, probably still longer than you’re used to, but the heaviest parts are up and out of the way at least.”

She finished a final wrap around his hair and tied a bow around it. Maybe not the nicest bow, or the neatest, but it’d keep secure for a good while.

“Alright,” She bore a light smile, trying to hide the simple joy of usefulness, and patted him on the back, “You’re done. Come back if you need me to redo it I guess.”

[angels-enclave]

"lozifarico" it's a voice she has heard before through wind and smoke, arguments and half-reconciliations. though, never one that has directly spoken to her, up until now that is. when she turns around, ainsworth is standing in front of her, their eyes catching for a moment. but, he doesn't look... mean, as he usually does with the other boys his age. if anything, the everette ainsworth, looks awkward? why is that? nevertheless, it's strange and it certainly doesnt suit him. he clears his throat, quietly.

“would you mind..." helping. he means to ask for help, but it does not leave his mouth, as if the word doesn’t exist in his everyday vernacular. his pride, really, is anything but palpable. though, he knows angie is smart enough to pick up the implications, so he doesn't bother finishing his sentence properly for once— something he surely would have gotten scolded for back at home. his father didn’t exactly appreciate loose ends when words were so easy to intertwine, per his words, especially when it came to conveying his disappointment it seems. but, his father is not here, and this place was evidently not home. not in the slightest.

he sighs, irritated, though not at her. “it's beginning to become a nuisance, but i'd rather not cut it, less i risk snipping off to much and looking like simon during that one retreat" the image in his mind alone is enough to bring back a more prominent frown on his face, cringing almost in flared disgust.

he mumbles something underneath his breath, nearly in reluctance, his eyes narrowing at her slightly before he points a finger to the two pigtails that drape down the sides of her nape. “you seem to know your way around hair, like you know what you're doing. can't say ‘hat about most people here, don't you agree?" he then points a finger at his own hair. golden locks that have grown past the term of short, at least for a boy. they curl at the edges, and are cleanly from his constant washes in the ocean waters, but they are quite tangled and the hairs that frame his face get in his eyes. he tilts his head then, looking off to the side.

"so i'd rather have someone do something with it, rather than snip it to shreds. i 'hought you might have the qualifications. do you not?"

— everette ainsworth @everettes-requiem 🐑

She lightly narrowed her almond eyes and looked him up and down as if to contemplate. She wasn’t a big fan of most of the boys on the island, but she always enjoyed a compliment and this one seemed, less unbearable.

“I suppose I do. Tie up my own hair enough.”

She produced a small shred of fabric that had once been white, perhaps a length torn from one of the many abandoned shirts.

“A little boring in terms of ribbon, but it should work just as good,” she motioned to a fallen length of tree, “Sit there if you want me to fix it.”

She took a particularly long shred methodically wrapped them around her hand, and then began to section the blond boy’s hair.

“Your bangs are too short for a ponytail, that’s the hair style I’m doing for you- I thought you probably wouldn’t want pigtails and I don’t know how to do a bun,”

She allowed the front of his hair to hang low, but scooped up as much as would be comfortable into a clump on the back of his head, and placed her palm on top of it. The fabric on her hand unraveling like a spool of thread to loop around his hair a few times.

“The point is, you’ll have to live with some hair in your face. Don’t think it’ll be too different, probably still longer than you’re used to, but the heaviest parts are up and out of the way at least.”

She finished a final wrap around his hair and tied a bow around it. Maybe not the nicest bow, or the neatest, but it’d keep secure for a good while.

“Alright,” She bore a light smile, trying to hide the simple joy of usefulness, and patted him on the back, “You’re done. Come back if you need me to redo it I guess.”

[kunfire]

I DIDN’T SEE THIS UNTIL NOW

[kunfire]

HELLO KUNI!!!!

hi vik!! ^_^ 🐾

[pinprickedroses]

@blood-of-my-brother

@everettes-requiem

[pinprickedroses]

@blood-of-my-brother

@everettes-requiem

[pinprickedroses]

@blood-of-my-brother

@everettes-requiem