#「 ♛ 」i fell in love with a war && nobody told me it ended ( kurapika )

[mindsafe]

headcanon: nicknames, petnames, endearments character: kurapika kurta

bold for something they're okay hearing; italicize for something they'd say

babe.  love. darling. sweetheart. sweetie. hun. baby. my love. dear. angel. sweetness. lovebug. soulmate. sunshine. handsome. beautiful. my heart. honey. sweet pea. my person. my favorite. mine. yours. cutie. pumpkin. dearest. queen. sexy bitch. lover. hot stuff. princess. precious. stud. good-looking. toots. snookums. husband. wife. hubby. wifey. brother. bro. bruv. sister. sis. pal. asshat. bitch boy. hero. king.  love of my life. starshine. muscle man. beloved. apple of my eye. master. mcdreamy. mcsteamy. nugget. her/his/their majesty. funny man. angel eyes. old sport. girly pop. missy. sir. mister. ma'am. champ. doc. dude. dudette. pal. buster. bruh. homie. smartass. dipshit. goof. silly. bae. boo. bestie. twin. friend. lovely. doll. fucker. soldier. lord. my liege.

character specific

based on the name: kurapika is shortened to 'pika affectionately, usually by family or close friends. it's not a nickname he hears often, nor is it one he is inclined to share. only one person discovered it, && he uses it somewhat liberally, but kurapika allows him this. . . those of the kurta clan do not have surnames; they have ONE. whether by blood or marriage, a kurta is a kurta. professional/educational titles: his progress as a HUNTER has earned him a number of formal && not so formal titles: to some, he is only known as the mysterious ❛ chain user ❜ or ❛ chain bastard ❜ ( canon ); in appropriate contexts, individuals may address him as ❛ boss ❜ or ❛ sir ❜ ( canon ), or even ❛ miss ❜ // ❛ ma'am ❜ when undercover; as a member of the zodiacs, he is known under his alias: ❛ rat ❜ ( canon ) family: his mother had been spirited, lively, && doting ― && to his ( then ) embarrassment, she would shower him with endearments that would make any young boy wrinkle his nose: ❛ baby ❜, ❛ sweetheart ❜, ❛ darling ❜. at the time, he thought it obnoxious; now, he misses it. his father was more mild-mannered && reserved, && in many ways a traditionalist. he had his own endearments for kurapika ― special words, born of a language that will live && die with him. misc: leorio took a liking to calling him ❛ sunshine ❜ ( canon ). he doesn't quite understand why. other than a crown of yellow-gold hair, nothing about him radiates warmth or light. but kurapika allows him this. . . if only to save himself the headache of arguing over something so silly ( && definitely not because the nickname makes his heart swell ).

template credit: @pontevoix

[mindsafe]

if it were anyone else. . .

kurapika might have raised a brow, or heaved a sigh. however, there is something oddly charming about the way that leorio paladiknight remains unapologetically himself at all times: social niceties be damned. he chews his food too loud, has atrocious posture, && lacks a filter when he speaks ( especially when impassioned ); but his authenticity shines brighter than all of yorknew after midnight.

they watch the other leave for the men's room, waiting for him to turn the corner before stealing a glance at their phone ― it had been vibrating on && off over the course of their shared meal. kurapika had been courteous enough to ignore it ( for leorio's sake, mostly ).

[ 1 ] MISSED CALL

damn it. . . a cautious thumb hovers over the VOICEMAIL button, weighing the probability of successful correspondence, against the odds of leorio returning && giving them that look ( a furrowed brow && clenched jaw // a sharp inhale && frustrated sigh ). it shouldn't bother them this much; if the other insists on acting like a child, then that's his prerogative, is what kurapika wants to say. instead, they send a quick text to their employer, && pocket their phone once again.

they scour the restaurant for a glimpse of leorio, who should be finished ‘ relieving himself ’ ― a cool gaze is drawn to the other's warmth. kurapika almost chokes on ice water when they realize that the other is footing the bill.

kurapika frowns. although his heart is made of gold, it's no secret that, HUNTER or no, leorio is not made of money. kurapika had insisted that they dine elsewhere, somewhere more modest; with glass tabletops, a sunlit patio, && a hearty ‘ soup of the day ’ // leorio was having ❛ none of that bullshit ❜ && insisted that ❛ they deserved to dabble in a bit of luxury ❜. kurapika made no comment on how luxury means little to them; their suit alone was worth 700,000 jennies. although it is tailored to fit, some days it feels that the clothing wears them, instead of the other way around. they miss the brightly coloured patterns of their traditional garb. but in a nest of vipers, one must shed their skin, && show their fangs. it's a performance. && a precarious one.

leorio announces his return by clearing his throat && dragging his chair into place. it grates loudly on vinyl flooring. kurapika looks up && watches him sink into his seat gracelessly. his posture really is terrible. their expression softens. in leorio's company, a mask is removed ― but never truly disposed of; it's set aside, next to the unused silverware ( a knife within arm's reach )

❝ -- by no means am i ungrateful, believe me. this is just. . . a bit much, wouldn't you agree? we could have just as easily split the bill. also, don't talk with your mouth full. it's unpleasant. ❞

leorio presses back from the table, drains the dregs of one water glass full of chilled water, drains another glass of beer, & salutes with the swipe of two fingers against his temple. he’s crass when he excuses himself ( ‘ piss break, ‘ he explains & snorts when he watches kurapika’s brow furrow ). but he’s content — it's easy to treat reunions ( & farewells ) as celebration.

after he excuses himself, he stares at a shy piece of graffiti penciled against the bathroom tile, washes his hands, thinks to himself that he can’t place the feeling of foreboding that knuckles itself against his ribs.

a good con doesn't rely on strategy. a good con doesn't rely on value. instead, it relies of convincing people of value. it relies on a mix of expression that shows naivety glinting in the eye, that demonstrates the regret of missed opportunities. a good con doesn’t rely on strategy. it kicks a thrill that’s like familiarity, & it’s an easy source of pride that says look. this is something i have been good at. i still have it.

there’s good reason for it to be a source of pride, too. a good con means life. it means pocketing enough coin that a man can indulge in a fuller meal, that means he can buy shoes that won’t blister his feet the same way his had been.

it’s kind of funny that leorio has been so good at the cons. he’s prone to tossing honesty into conversation with the impulsiveness of a man who speaks with his mouth full, a man who forgets to filter himself & hide his passions. as a result, leorio does a poor job of disguising the fact that although he enjoys a good con, he had never wanted to learn how to play in the first place.

a good con doesn’t rely on strategy, but a good con does know when to quit while you’re ahead. when to quit taking so that you can bow out & watch the curtain close.

leorio thinks that he sees a little of that in kurapika — the preparations for an end. he thinks he recognizes it because he recognizes a good con, recognizes the performance required of a good con.

often, he’s governed by gut instinct. intuition swears that kurapika is too straight-laced to pull off a con, but intuition also tells him that kurapika is fraying. that they’re tying into performances & negotiating too much for the sake of revenge & making themselves unrecognizable.

leorio supposes that is a type of con. he thinks about it when he steps out of the bathroom. the door swings back & knocks him in the shoulder.

before he paves a path back to his table, he spots kurapika, dressed in a suit that makes him look colder than he is. he waves a hand too amicably towards a waiter as he offers his own payment for their shared meal.

leorio’s hands snake into his pant pockets. the fabric is wearing thin, & soon he'll have to check the pockets for holes. kurapika had already seen leorio cast down his card to order too much food that won't go to waste.

it's easy to treat reunions ( & farewells ) as celebration. he & kurapika are preparing to part ways again, so leorio over ordered. he always already over orders from restaurants, always delights too much in the luxury - eating he's used to bare cupboards. he is used to leaning too heavily on canned goods & dried goods & things that won't rot when the refrigerator starts to run warm. he's used to penny pinching & indulgences because it’s uncertain when the next time they'll come.

so he offered to pay for their meal, for their reunion ( & farewell ). it is celebration made into a gift. because leorio salutes indulging in what they have before their trains come & kurapika makes himself sparse.

but a good con does know when to quit while you’re ahead. when to quit taking so that you can bow out & watch the curtain close.

leorio thinks that he sees a little of that in kurapika. he settles at the table again & nudges his chair into position with the toe of his scuffed shoe ( a shoe that doesn’t blister ). his brow arches as he studies kurapika’s composure for too long before he shakes his head & spears a remaining bite of food onto a fork. they had shared two or three dishes together, & leorio doesn’t believe in wasting food.

@mindsafe asked : "--i wish you wouldn't look so unhappy" ( what's good mr. leorio )

i wish you wouldn’t look so unhappy, kurapika says. leorio nearly chokes on his food.

they have separate trains to catch in an hour, so he asks & keeps his voice neat. ‘ you can’t even accept one gift ? ‘

his mouth is full.

[mindsafe]

MUSE: Kurapika

❝--i do not fear death. what i fear is that my RAGE will one day fade away. ❞

NAME: kurapika AGE: 17 - 19 GENDER: GNC ( gender non-conforming ) ORIENTATION: gay MBTI: INTJ

BIO:

kurapika is the last survivor of the kurta clan. he is a blacklist ( bounty ) HUNTER && current leader of the organization founded by light nostrade. he is a member of the zodiacs, with the codename: ❛ rat ❜. his goal is to avenge his clan && recover the remaining scarlet eyes. [ X ]

VERSES:

TBA

RELATIONSHIPS:

TBA

**CONTENT WARNING: PTSD, genocide, torture, body horror, arachnophobia

[mindsafe]

A text asking for advice, kurapika !

@pontevoix || from [X] || ACCEPTING

asking for help is not an easy endeavour. the words have a tendency to catch in his throat && form terrible lumps that are swallowed, no sooner than they bubble up. a phone, by itself, is an inanimate object && an object does not inherently make the principle of a task less demanding // a phone, by itself, makes the act of calling ( or texting ) virtually effortless, but the actual communication is as daunting as ever. thumb hovers over the dimly lit screen ― he has lost count of how many times it has gone black entirely, && he has been subsequently forced to retype the six-digit code.

the last time kurapika sought out aid of his own volition, he returned to a MASSACRE: one-hundred && twenty-eight graves. ironically, he'd been in want of a doctor then, as well. . . unlike the last time, kurapika knows where to go && whom he can trust: he trusts leorio paladiknight unequivocally.

---

[ TXT ]: it's kurapika.

he cannot say why he feels the need to initiate all conversations with such formality. is it habit? is it courtesy? or is it the possibility that the other has ( understandably ) deleted his number?

[ TXT ]: i realize that i have no right asking this of you, but i need your advice.

[ TXT ]: as a professional, what would you say is the recommended dosage of ibuprofen for a fractured rib? && how often should i ice it?

he doesn't expect a reply, but prays silently for one all the same.