#meanderingpaper

[queensconquest]

meanderingpaper replied to your post: if  you’ve  seen  the  mandelorian  ,  the  scene ...

and the scene where baby Yoda’s sipping soup or something while there’s a fight like :33 tasty

killua  @  hisoka  and  Illumi  drama

[eldestchild]

meanderingpaper replied to your post: decepteur replied to your post: ...

*sips juice*

Are you telling me you thought my fashion is bad on your own

[packerpain]

"I made you," the boy speaks, no particular inflection to his tone as he holds the doll crafted purely from paper towards the man. "I think I captured you well." He does not speak it, but a question burns in the middle of his throat - do you like it?

unprompted asks ( always accepting. )

INTRICATE DETAILS, PRECISE CUTS, excellent handiwork. the listless gaze scours the edges of the finely cut paper doll of himself. his hair must’ve caused a bit of frustration and required patience. pallid fingers take a hold of the paper doll, a more careful and personal inspection. 

not a single piece of stray paper hung or clung on the edges of the paper doll.

nothing but silence filled the room. his demeanor, an enigma to the boy, as feitan donned his habitual expression– apathetic, nonchalant. the aim wasn’t to make the boy linger by in an uncomfortable silence rather just to honestly look over the commendable handiwork. “it’s well done.” 

“how long did this take?”

[queensconquest]

meanderingpaper said:looks kurapika up and down "You pass." his style evaluation dfghjfgh

   “  Well  thank  you. “  He  does  best  to  keep  good  appearances.  Even  in  his  fighting  uniform.  Another  test  passed  ,  he’s  pleased.   

[eldestchild]

meanderingpaper replied to your post: "You're not wearing that, are you?" Those clothes...

kalluto vc: why is there flames on it?

“Because they make you look faster.”

[eldestchild]

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Those clothes were well... ugly.

He stares at his little brother for a moment, really stares at him. Clearly, his little brother didn’t understand, he had picked this from the mannequin from a high-end boutique.

“This is Fashion Kalluto.”

[xnarukami]

▲ – A surprise hug // bc really, no one ever expects a zoldyck hug

▲ – A surprise hug // @meanderingpaper .

His entire family was never one to show love. Nor compassion, nor mercy, nor sympathy. The Zoldycks were unique in that; their ability to be cold and ruthless was like no other, and was what made them a success well known through the hunter world. They were perfect killing machines that never jammed, and never second guessed any sort of decision made to complete the mission at hand. The Zoldycks were perfect. 

It’s why when Kalluto comes to speak to Killua, he expects nothing more. They’re empty words traded between emptier children, and Killua knows to keep it short and simple so their mother wouldn’t come out and catch him. He’d been running away from her the entire afternoon, and his younger brother had a tendency to always be trailing behind her. She couldn’t be far.  

But it’s what follows shortly after, that has Killua completely reeling back. Kalluto’s words had rung empty towards the end of their conversation, and he’d simply been nodding, eyes searching everywhere for any signs of his mother. It’s during that time that Killua suddenly felt small arms wrap around his waist, and a warmth in the middle of his chest where his brother now lay his head. He was squeezing tighter and tighter, and Killua freezes at the sensation. This isn’t right by any means, and it’s unnerving to think his brother is capable of any affection. 

He pushes him off. 

“ What are you doing ? — Stop. ” 

[lovelybullet]

Kalluto stands before Pakunoda, dressed in civilian clothes for the first time in a long while. His outfit is simple, a long-sleeved t shirt and pants but his shoes - they were a mess. The knots were flimsy, the shoelaces ready to fall apart at any second. "I don't think I did this right," he tells her, an unspoken question weighing in his eyes. Can you help me?

paku assesses him with a critical eye, one arm folded across her chest to prop the elbow of her other. fingers aligned with her cheek, she appraises the effort.

‘i’ve seen worse,’ she says. ‘franklin thinks that jumpsuits are the pinnacle of fashion.’

with a smile that barely creases her skin, she kneels gracefully in the dust and reaches for the laces. ‘you’ll have to learn how to do this on your own,’ she warns, tying them in a neat bow. she tilts her face up at him and lets her eyes soften. ‘but just this once, it’s all right.’