#and I Suffered for it. my god. but it was so worth it

[teaboot]

One of the biggest eye-openers for me back when a I went to church was that like…

Oh man how do I explain it.

There’s this prevalent idea I see a lot in Christian circles that if you pray right, if you follow God correctly, if you’re a truly virtuous person, your problems will be solved, right?

If you suffer, if you fall ill, if bad things happen, it’s because you aren’t good enough. You don’t need medicine because if you’re worthy, if you’re faithful enough, God will reward you by healing you. Right?

But like. Discussing this with my mother, and travelling out east with our pastor… Jesus didn’t spend all his time with perfect, virtuous people. Jesus didn’t seek out and heal well-to-do, faithful, perfect Christians. In fact, there’s a specific story in which he straight up doesn’t travel out to heal a believer’s dying daughter, because she’s already “saved”. Her earthy death is okay because she’s going to heaven already.

And like… coming from our Pastor, who is one of the best guys I’ve ever met- there seems to be an ongoing, underlying message of, “Jesus doesn’t care about you if you’re a good Christian”. If you’re a good Christian, if you’re living a virtuous life on earth, then any suffering you experience is only temporary- your ETERNITY is secure. Jesus goes out of his way to meet with sinners and the unfaithful because those are the people whose souls are in danger.

So like. In that perspective, being good doesn’t make your life better, it’s just good for others and good for your soul. Praying and doing good probably won’t cure your cancer, but it may mean you don’t have to worry too much about your death.

And like. I dunno. I wouldn’t call myself a Christian, but I find myself thinking about that concept a lot

Does suffering mean you deserve a reward?

Is suffering proof that you’re unworthy?

Or is suffering just an unfortunate facet of life that doesn’t reflect on your worth, that you still have to deal with as best you can?

Maybe suffering is just suffering.

Maybe the bad things you experienced weren’t about you

And maybe you just gotta try your best and be kind anyways, so you can rest easy when you go

[rubiehart]

being jj’s passenger princess after a long day at work was a god send, especially when he treats you exactly how he should…

“can i borrow your lipstick?”

“yeah, it’s somewhere in here.”

the clatter of items from the two girl's bag's fills the silence of the dingy tikki bar’s bathroom, bringing you back to reality as you blink slowly in the mirror, hands gripping the porcelain sink as you sigh.

rude customers, and pervy old men, mixed with the heatwave the outer banks was currently suffering was a recipe for disaster, leaving you in a fowl mood all night, counting down the hours until you could stumble into your bestfriend’s truck and into john b’s guest bed with him.

at the distant buzz of your phone a wave of relief washes over you, reaching into the back pocket of your jean shorts, eyes landing on the little buzzing screen, lit up with his name.

pressing your back against the wall, you jab at the screen eagerly with a fingernail painted with chipper glittery polish, bringing to phone to your ear, breathing out an exhausted 'hey.’ fiddling with the hem of your uniformed waist apron.

"m’ outback, y’ need me to come walk you out? ‘s gettin’ dark- pretty fast." he hums, the sound of the blinker in background as he pulls into the parking lot.

you nod like he can see you, pressing into the corner of your eye with your ring finger, swiping away an rogue flake of mascara, before settling for an exhausted. ‘uh- nah, it’s fine. be one sec.” before promptly ending the call.

the slap of your sandals against the tarmac speeds up as you approach him, arms folded over his chest with that knowing smirk on his face, leaning against the hood of the twinkie.

you almost groan at the sight, tan forearms bulging unfairly. you practically throw yourself into his waiting arms, leaning your head on his shoulder. he’s startled for a second, eyes going wide, but then his arms are encircling your waist and his lips pressed to your crown, fighting the urge to kiss the skin softly, settling for just inhaling your shampoo.

“i fuckin’ missed you - never thought i’d say it." you hum jokingly, pulling away to look him in the eyes, his hands sliding lower to rest on the backs of your thighs. "missed you too my girl - always do." he says, titling his head down towards you with a teasing pout.

your heart flips at that, his girl, you knew, duh, just nice for it to be affirmed, especially when he’s looking at you like that in an empty parking lot. makes you contemplate if this friendship was worth ruining just to persue your fantasies.

“cmon, gimme some sugar.” he smirks, and it’s joking of course, but who is jj if not persistent? so he leans down a little anyway, doesn’t expect to feel the wet smush of your lips to his jaw, only now does he realise you’re a little tipsy - having been sneaking shots under the bar all day just to deal with your shift.

"that new?" he asks, feigning nonchalance when you pull away, running a gentle thumb across your chin to wipe away some excess gloss.

"yeah- got it last week. don’t you just looove it?" you smile hopefully and he nods, chucking softly as your excited little pout, hands sliding up and down your thighs as he replies, supportive as ever. "damn right- i love it. might cop myself some." he teases, giving a fleeting pat to your denim covered ass, rounding the car to open your door, gesturing for you to get in.

your cheeks heat up at the casual act, following his footsteps. "think y’ a gentleman? you ain’t foolin’ anyone." you grin, taking his hand to hop up into the truck, he averts his gaze, jaw clenching when you stumble, falling with your literal ass in the air.

once you’re situated, hand still in his, so flustered as he presses his chapped lips to your hand, charming smirk on his face, hair all disheveled and looking edible in the orange glow of the streetlights. “i am - only for you though, mama.”

he rounds the car to sink months agoat, turning the key in the ignition and you can't help admire the way his forearms tense at the action. the car kicks to life and you're both off.

after driving for five or so minutes, you were getting a little restless, unable to ignore how perfectly his jawline was highlighted by the streetlights, or how the hand he’d smoothly rested on your thigh was slowly sliding further and further towards where you wanted - scratch that, needed it most.

you weren't even sure he knew what he was doing to you, but you couldn't wait to find out. it was pathetic really, just how easily you could go from 0 to 100, but you were past the point of caring, and all you was for him to make you feel good.

on impulse, you reach for the hand caressing your thigh, his eyes flit to you, unsure of what you're intention was until he meets your eyes. he could recognise that glazed over needy look anywhere, the one you get when you’re scouting out boys at the boneyard, or the beach, or wherever, all this time he’s wanted you to look at him like that, and now you were? he thinks he’s gonna stop breathing.

you drag his hand gently up your body to rest on your tit, which he squeezes on instinct, eyes only half focused on the road. he lets out a gruff, unsure call of your name, clearing his throat, wondering if he should stop.

the action illicites a pretty little whimper from you, which he takes as motivation to keep you making those noises. he darts his eyes between the busy road and you, legs spread and lips parted, eyes fluttering gently as he rubs a thumb over your pebbled nipple through the bobbly material of your graphic tee, scarce of a thick enough bra.

navigating the bustle of traffic was a challenge in itself, but now he'd have to multitask, dipping his hand down between your legs, already feeling the warmth radiating off of you through your denim shorts as you eagerly begin popping the buttons, head thrown back against the head rest, eyes on him. “please, jay..." you mewl, and he knows the risks. but fortunately for you, jj likes a challenge.

[fangdokja]

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

❤︎ Synopsis. He was the omnipotent author, the cruel god behind the screen—until he decided to step into the story himself, turning ink and paper into flesh and bone, pain and pleasure. Now, trapped within his twisted narrative, you are both his muse and his masterpiece, rewritten and defiled with every stroke of his pen.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Author x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Fate’s Final Draft - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 6,077

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, rape, psychological manipulation and conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, cannibalism + vore, gore, torture, death, angst + tragedy, bombing, penetration using objects, forced penetration, implied + slight masochism

♡ Yandere! Author, who never gets jealous. Not in the way normal people do. He doesn’t feel that tight coil of possessiveness, that human bitterness. No, his jealousy is something far worse—something that twists, mutates, and takes shape in the form of a game.

"You’re distracted," he says, voice lilting, amused. "Your attention is... scattered. Like a kitten chasing too many strings."

He taps his fingers against his chin, head tilting in mock thought. "And here I thought you’d learned by now. That the only string worth chasing is mine."

♡ Yandere! Author, who watches you interact with others, not with anger, but with a quiet, lingering curiosity.

"You’re always so helpful, aren’t you?" he hums, stepping closer, his breath warm against your ear. "So kind. Picking up strays, offering soft words, being the ever-so-gentle protagonist. How utterly dull."

He chuckles, a sharp, manic edge cutting through the sound.

"But I suppose it’s my fault," he sighs. "I’ve been far too lenient with you. Letting you walk around, letting you play with all these little characters. Letting you breathe."

His eyes darken, his grin stretching too wide.

"I should remind you of what happens when you take my attention for granted."

♡ Yandere! Author, who crafts stories of tragedy and despair, who delights in pain and suffering like a composer weaving a symphony.

"But this time," he says, fingers tracing idly along your arm, "I won’t just watch."

His grip tightens, just enough to make you feel it.

"You like playing hero, don’t you? Always trying to defy the script, to make things better for others?" He exhales a mockingly wistful sigh. "How sweet. How naive."

A shiver of amusement runs through him as he leans in, whispering against your skin.

"So let’s play a little game, shall we?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who spins scenarios of horror and despair, who orchestrates nightmares with the precision of a masterful puppeteer.

"Tell me," he muses, voice dripping with saccharine malice. "How do you think your precious little cast would react if they saw you... like this?"

He hums, thoughtful.

"Torn apart. Begging. Ruined."

His fingers brush against your throat, slow, deliberate.

"Would they still look at you the same way? Would they still adore you?" His voice drops lower, threading with something almost gentle, almost loving. "Would you?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who always remained an observer, a sadistic god behind the screen, watching his creations squirm.

But now?

Now, he’s stepped into the story.

And this time, he’s the one writing the scene.

────────────

You woke up to the cold, sticky embrace of blood-soaked earth beneath you, the metallic scent of death thick in the air.

♡ Yandere! Author towered above you, his silhouette framed by the flickering candles scattered around the room, casting eerie shadows across the faces of the lifeless bodies that surrounded you.

His eyes gleamed with a dark excitement as they raked over you, and he licked his lips in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "Look what you've done, my dear," he mused, gesturing to the carnage.

"You've made me clean up your mess again."

You stared at the decapitated heads, the sight of their vacant eyes hauntingly familiar, as he stepped closer, his foot squelching in the pool of crimson beneath your trembling form.

"I hope you're ready for your punishment," he said, his voice a dark, seductive purr that made your stomach twist with fear and disgust.

"You've been a very naughty girl, making me jealous like that." His hand reached for the hem of your top, and you knew that this night was going to be one of the worst you'd ever endure.

As ♡ Yandere! Author tore the fabric from your body, leaving you exposed to the chilling air, you felt his anger like a living force, a palpable entity that wrapped around you, squeezing until you couldn’t breathe. "You think you can play games with me?" he hissed, his fingers digging into your skin.

"You think you can ignore me and flirt with my characters?" He grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with a possessive fury that made you feel like you were drowning.

"You belong to me," he spat, the words echoing in your ears like a curse.

"And I will show you exactly what that means." His touch grew rougher, more punishing, as he yanked your legs apart, the sound of his zipper like a gunshot in the tense silence.

With a sadistic smile, ♡ Yandere! Author positioned himself between your thighs, his erection a blunt, unyielding presence against your trembling flesh.

"Look around you," he ordered, gesturing to the grisly scene.

"These are the consequences of your disobedience. Your carelessness." He leaned in, his breath hot and rancid. "Do you like your audience?"

♡ Yandere! Author didn't wait for a response, thrusting into you with a brutal force that made you scream.

The dead eyes of the characters you once knew bore into you, a silent, damning judgment as he claimed you again and again, each stroke a declaration of his dominance. The pain was intense, a stark reminder that you were his plaything, his to manipulate and control.

♡ Yandere! Author grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, while the other trailed down your body, leaving a path of shivers in its wake.

His grip tightened, his teeth sinking into your neck as he slammed into you, your cries muffled by his mouth. You could feel the sticky warmth of blood from the nearby corpses, a morbid reminder of his power as he fucked you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and arousing.

The smell of death and decay filled the air, mixing with the scent of sex and sweat.

♡ Yandere! Author didn't bother to clean you up; he liked the mess, the reminder of what he'd done.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

"So vulnerable, so fucking perfect." His other hand found your throat, squeezing gently.

"You're mine. Do you understand?" He emphasized his words with a particularly vicious thrust, making you gag.

His eyes gleamed with a twisted mix of pleasure and malice as he watched you struggle under him, surrounded by the grisly remnants of his narrative wrath.

♡ Yandere! Author had always enjoyed the thrill of watching his characters suffer, but there was something uniquely satisfying about seeing you, the protagonist he had grown to both despise and adore, at his mercy.

His grip on your throat tightened as he pumped into you, the warm, sticky mess of blood and gore from the slain characters around you coating both of you, a macabre reminder of his power.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice a harsh rasp. "Look at me when I fuck you."

You refused, turning your head away and doing your best to muffle your voice.

With a snarl of frustration, he reaches for his signature fountain pen, the gleaming silver instrument that had so often been the harbinger of fate in his grimdark narratives.

♡ Yandere! Author presses the tip of the pen against your left eyelid, watching with a perverse fascination as your pupil contracts in terror.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a harsh whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "Or would you rather I show you how serious I am?"

Before you can react, he drives the pen straight into your eye, the sharp tip piercing the tender flesh with ease. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching in agony as the warm, wet sensation fills your socket.

The world goes blurry, your vision obscured by a curtain of pain, but you can still feel him thrusting into you, his movements growing more erratic and frenzied as he watches you suffer.

The pen digs deeper, the ink mixing with your tears and blood, painting a crimson streak down your cheek.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out the pen, leaving your eye a ruin, and throws it aside with a satisfied smirk.

"Scream all you want," he says, his voice dripping with malice.

"They can't hear you." He gestures to the lifeless bodies that surround you, their vacant eyes seemingly watching the gruesome display with silent judgment.

♡ Yandere! Author leans in closer, his breath hot against your face as he whispers, "But I can. And I fucking love it." His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply until your vision starts to darken at the edges.

With a twisted smile, he reaches for the second pen, the gleaming metal reflecting the sickly light from the candles scattered around the room.

You can feel the anticipation coiling in his muscles, the thrill of his sadistic desires about to be satiated once again. He presses the tip against your other eye, watching you with a mix of hunger and disgust as you whimper and squirm beneath him.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice low and filled with malice. "Look at what you've made me do."

You try to turn your head away, but his grip is unyielding.

The cold steel of the pen pierces the soft flesh of your right eyelid, and you can feel the warmth of your blood trickle down your cheek.

The pain is blinding, stealing the last semblance of dignity you had. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing your screams. You bite your lip until you taste blood, your eyes struggling to squeeze shut tightly, trying to block out the horror of what's happening.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a dark symphony of desire and anger. "Look at the monster you've created."

With a sadistic flourish, ♡ Yandere! Author plunges the second pen into your right eye, the sharpened tip digging into the delicate tissue.

You feel a burst of searing agony as your eyeball ruptures under the intrusion, the gelatinous fluid mingling with the sticky blood already coating your face.

The pen slices through the ocular nerve, sending a shockwave of pain that echoes through your entire body.

You can't help but scream now, the sound a raw, primal wail that fills the room, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the ears of the lifeless figures around you.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with perverse pleasure as he watches you writhe and squirm beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author swirls the pen around in the bloody mess that was once your eye, the metal grinding against the bone socket. "Scream for me, my little protagonist. Show everyone how much you enjoy this."

With a grunt of pleasure, he starts to thrust into you harder, the squelching sound of your mutilated flesh a symphony to his ears. His grip on your throat tightens even more, cutting off your air supply and turning your screams into desperate gasps.

Each movement of his hips sends fresh waves of agony through your body, the pain from your ruined eyes mixing with the brutal violation of your most intimate space.

You feel his hot breath on your cheek, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispers sweet nothings about how much you're his, how he's going to make sure you never forget this moment.

His lust spikes at the sound of your gargled screams, the sight of your ruined eyes, and the feel of your squirming body beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls the pen out of your right eye with a wet pop, a grin of sick satisfaction on his face as you try to clutch at the empty socket, only to encounter the sticky mess of your own blood and viscous fluid.

He throws the pen aside, his focus now fully on your suffering and the ragged sounds of your breathing. He grabs your chin, forcing your face towards his, his other hand digging into your hip. His eyes, now wild with desire, bore into yours—what's left of them—as he starts to fuck you with a fervor that borders on violence.

His eyes gleam with a twisted hunger as he brings your ruined right eye closer to his mouth. You can feel his breath hot and heavy on your face, his tongue darting out to taste the coppery tang of your blood.

With a sickening slurp, ♡ Yandere! Author begins to lick around the wound, his tongue swirling in the bloody mess that was once your eye. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, a mix of revulsion and pain that makes you want to scream, but his hand around your throat won't allow it.

His teeth clamp down on the gelatinous flesh, tearing a chunk of it away from the socket.

He chews, savoring the taste of your suffering, your essence, the very core of your being. You feel him swallow, the motion sending a bolt of horror through your body that's almost as intense as the agony of his teeth in your face.

He laughs, the sound echoing through the room of dead characters, their lifeless forms a silent audience to your degradation.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs harder as he consumes more of your eyeball, his teeth tearing into the delicate flesh and crunching through the gelatinous interior.

The sound is obscene, a symphony of his depravity playing out in the quiet room of the dead. Each bite sends a jolt of horror through your body, but the pain is a distant second to the realization of what he's doing.

Your mind reels, trying to process the grotesque intimacy of the act, the ultimate violation of your bodily autonomy.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls away, the last piece of your eyeball still caught between his teeth, his grin wider and more sadistic than ever. He leans in and whispers, "Mmm, so sweet," his breath hot against your ear, before swallowing the final piece.

He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing it across your cheek. "You're so much more entertaining when you fight back," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

His other hand slides down your body, finding its way between your legs. He groans in pleasure as he feels the wetness there. "It's a shame you're not enjoying this more. I've written some of my best work when my characters are in pain." His fingers delve deeper, the pressure increasing until you're writhing beneath him.

As you try to struggle away from his vile touch, the his grip on your throat tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh around your windpipe.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs darkly, the sound echoing through the room like a chilling symphony of madness. "Oh, so you want to play hard to get?" His free hand reaches for the pen still stuck in your left eye socket, the metal now cold and slick with your blood.

"Let's see if this loosens you up a bit, shall we?" He says, a twisted glint in his eye as he pushes the pen deeper, the pain making your vision swim.

You feel the sickening crunch of your socket collapsing under the pressure, and the warm, wet sensation of your eye popping out, leaving nothing but a gaping hole filled with his digit.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out his hand, bringing with it a fountain of crimson.

The room spins around you, and the world turns red with your agony. He holds up the ruined mess that was once your eye, examining it with a disturbing fascination. "This is what you get for making me jealous, you little whore."

He tosses it aside, the wet slap of it hitting the floor making you want to vomit. His hand moves back to your throat, squeezing harder, cutting off your air.

♡ Yandere! Author yanks you back down onto the makeshift bed of lifeless bodies, the cold, sticky blood of your former companions seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

His other hand is on your chin, forcing your face up to look at him. "You're going to scream for me now, aren't you?" His smile is wide, his teeth glinting in the flickering candlelight.

"You're going to scream like you've never screamed before, because this is your grand finale, isn't it?"

With a final, brutal thrust, he pulls out of your ravaged pussy, his cock slick with your blood and the juices of your pain.

♡ Yandere! Author grabs you by the hair and forces your head back, aiming his thick, pulsing shaft at your face. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it spurts out, painting your cheeks and filling your eye sockets with his seed.

The salty, bitter taste coats your tongue as he pushes into your mouth, his grip on your throat tightening.

He fucks your face with the same fervor he did your eyes, his hips bucking as he empties himself into you. Your throat is raw from his earlier assault, but you swallow his cum without protest, the taste of his dominance overwhelming your senses.

"Look at you," he pants, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. "Such a good little slut, taking it all for your master."

♡ Yandere! Author releases your chin and wipes the last droplets of cum onto your cheek with his thumb, smearing it into your skin. "You never did know how to pick your battles, did you?"

His grin widens as he positions himself above you, the bloody corpse of your recent companion lying between your legs, your vision nothing but a blur of pain.

His cock, still slick with your tears and blood, slides back into your ruined eye sockets. You can feel the warmth of his semen coating the inside, the sensation sickeningly intimate.

♡ Yandere! Author starts to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands gripping your hair tightly as he uses the leverage to push even deeper. You want to scream, to beg for mercy, but all you can do is whimper, your throat raw from his previous assault.

The pain is unbearable, a symphony of agony that resonates through your entire being.

"Do you feel that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "The warmth of your storyline being rewritten, the essence of your existence being claimed by me?"

His thrusts become more vigorous, the sounds of squelching and slapping echoing through the room. The dead characters seem to watch in morbid fascination, a silent audience to your suffering. "You’re mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek. "Every part of you, every drop of your despair—it’s all mine to savor."

You try to scream, but the only sound that leaves your throat is a wet gurgle. The pain is unbearable, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body, making you feel like you're being torn apart from the inside.

Yet, you find yourself unable to move, to fight back, your body a puppet to his twisted narrative. The warmth of his cum in your eye sockets feels like molten lead, a constant reminder of the horror of your new reality.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out of you with a smirk, watching as his semen leaks from your eye sockets, mixing with the blood and gore of the room.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at the carnage around you. "You see this?" he says, gesturing to the mutilated bodies.

"This is what happens when you don't belong to me. This is what happens when you dare to think you can have a story without me."

His grip tightens, his thumb pressing into the raw flesh of your cheek. "But don't worry, I'll always be here to save you. To use you. To make you feel alive." He laughs, the sound echoing through the room, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. "You're going to love the next chapter, my sweet, obedient little bitch."

Your don't give in.

But your silent, weak struggle only serves to fuel the his desire.

♡ Yandere! Author watches your defiance with a mix of amusement and annoyance, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of the challenge. He grabs you by the throat, his grip tightening as he hoists you up, your feet dangling in the air. With a cruel smirk, he slams you down onto the floor, the impact jolting through your broken body.

His eyes flash with a dark excitement at your silent defiance.

He's always loved a challenge, and your refusal to break is just another delicious twist in the story he's crafting. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a third fountain pen, its nib gleaming in the dim light.

Without a moment's hesitation, he aligns it with your already abused vagina, the cold metal sending a shiver of fear through your body.

"Let's see if I can make you scream," he whispers, his voice a chilling promise of more pain to come.

With a swift, brutal motion, he drives the pen into you, the nib slicing through your flesh with an ease that speaks of his practiced cruelty.

You bite back a scream, but a gasp of agony slips through your teeth.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in your skull like a death knell, as he starts to move the pen in and out of you.

As his third pen plunges into you, the sharp nib tears through your tender flesh with a sickening sound that makes your stomach churn. Blood and fluids mingle, creating a macabre painting around his twisted tools of domination.

You feel the metal slide in and out of your violated body, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of agony that crashes over you like a crimson tide. The sensation of being impaled by something so cold and unyielding is almost too much to bear, but the pain is a reminder that you're still alive—still the star of his twisted story.

With a sadistic smirk, ♡ Yandere! Author watches your body convulse around the third pen lodged deep within your cervix.

The agony is palpable, painting your face with the colors of despair as you try to scream through your bruised and bloodied throat.

The warmth of your insides clench around the cold metal, a stark contrast that sends shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He twists the pen slightly, eliciting a guttural sound from you, one that is a mix of pain and unwilling arousal. The gore that surrounds you, the lifeless bodies of the characters he's discarded, only serves to amplify the depravity of his act.

♡ Yandere! Author stands back, his eyes gleaming with a twisted mix of triumph and fascination.

He leaves the pen inside you, allowing the pain to linger, to become a part of you.

You can feel the cold, unyielding metal pressing against your inner walls, a constant reminder of his dominance and the horrors he's inflicted upon you. Your body shakes, a silent scream echoing through the room as the pain turns to a dull throb that you know won't be leaving you anytime soon.

His hands are slick with your blood as he effortlessly picks you up from the floor. You're too weak to fight, your body a mess of pain and violation.

♡ Yandere! Author wraps his strong arm around your neck, his grip tight enough to cut off air, yet not tight enough to end your misery.

You gasp, your eyes watering from the pressure as he drags you across the floor, the coldness of the tiles sending shockwaves through your bruised and abused body.

He reaches up, looping a thick rope around a sturdy beam in the ceiling, and your heart sinks as you realize his next twisted act.

With a sadistic chuckle, he ties the noose around your neck, pulling it tight enough to leave an angry red ring around your throat. He makes sure your wrists, ankles, and everything essential is tied securely to prevent any chances of escape.

♡ Yandere! Author places the chair beneath you, the wood digging into your legs as he lifts you up, your toes barely grazing the floor.

"You're going to hang there," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "until I say otherwise. Think about what you've done, my little muse. Think about how you've made me feel."

His grip on you tightens as you hang from the noose, the pain in your neck a constant reminder of his dominance. Your legs kick out, desperately searching for purchase on the floor below, but find none.

The chair wobbles precariously beneath you, the only thing keeping you from the agony of strangulation.

You can feel his hot, heavy breath against your pussy, his chuckles reverberating through his chest and into yours. His free hand snakes down, reaching between your legs to grasp the bloody pen still lodged inside you, twisting it cruelly. You whimper, the sound muffled by the noose, and your body involuntarily tightens around the object, a sickening mix of pain and arousal.

His grin widens as he pulls out a handful of dynamite sticks from his toolbox, each one glinting in the dim light.

♡ Yandere! Author waves them in front of your face, the smell of gunpowder and fear thick in the air. His eyes are alight with sadistic glee as he explains his next twisted plot twist.

“You see, my dear, I’ve been saving these for a very special occasion. And what better way to celebrate our little bond than with a little… fireworks display?” He chuckles darkly, his voice a serrated knife cutting through the silence.

You gasp for air, the noose biting into your neck as he plays with the explosives. His cruel fingers trace over the dynamite, leaving smudges of your blood on their surfaces.

♡ Yandere! Author seems to revel in the horror etched into your features, the way your body convulses and writhes under his touch.

“But don’t worry, my pet,” he coos, his voice a mockery of comfort. “You won’t be alone in your little performance. After all, what’s a show without an audience?” He gestures to the lifeless bodies scattered around the room, their sightless eyes seemingly watching the grisly scene unfold.

His hands are a blur of movement, the dynamites' sticks pressing against your flesh as he ruthlessly inserts each one into your violated body. You whimper and squirm, the pain unbearable, but he only laughs, the sound echoing through the room like a twisted symphony. His eyes are alight with a perverse glee as he watches you suffer.

"You see," he says, his voice a purr of sadistic pleasure, "the story needs a climax. And what better way than a grand explosion?"

He presses the last stick of dynamite into you, pushing it deep until it's nestled alongside the pen that still remains lodged in your cervix. Your body shudders with revulsion, and you feel a warm trickle of blood run down your thighs.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out a sleek, silver lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a practiced ease that sends a shiver down your spine.

He holds the flame up to one of the dynamite sticks protruding from your body, watching you with a twisted smile as the flicker of fire dances in his eyes.

The room fills with the acrid scent of burning fuse as ♡ Yandere! Author lights each dynamite stick with a sickening relish, the flames licking up your body, burning against the tender flesh of your inner thighs and the cold steel of the pens and the chair.

You scream in agony as the fire spreads, the heat searing your skin and the explosive pressure threatening to tear you apart from the inside out. Your eyes are already gone, but the pain is so intense it feels like you’re seeing stars, your vision a swirl of fiery red and black.

The pens in your body are forgotten for a moment as the dynamite becomes the center of your world, a twisted phallus of destruction that promises to end your story in a blaze of glorious carnage.

♡ Yandere! Author steps back, admiring his handiwork. "This is your grand finale, my love," he says, his voice thick with perverse pleasure.

"The ultimate climax of your tragic tale. How fitting that it ends with you, my muse, writhing in the throes of a passionate, explosive death." He licks his lips, his gaze raking over your suspended, burning form with a hunger that’s as palpable as the heat from the dynamite.

You’re his masterpiece, and he’s about to watch it burn.

With a wicked chuckle, he steps away from you, slamming the heavy, bolted door shut with a resounding clang that echoes through the room. The sound is like a death knell, cutting off your cries for mercy.

♡ Yandere! Author watches you through the small, reinforced window, his eyes gleaming with sadistic excitement as your body writhes in pain. The dynamite hisses and crackles, the flames licking closer and closer to the explosive core, painting your tortured cries in a symphony of agony.

Your desperate attempts to free yourself are futile.

The ropes are tight, digging into your wrists and ankles, leaving you suspended and helpless. The dynamite sticks burn and hiss, filling the room with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the sickeningly sweet scent of your own burning flesh. You can feel the heat radiating from within, the explosives stretching you to your limits as your body fights against the intrusion.

Each twitch and squirm sends shockwaves of pain through you, the pens in your eye sockets and vagina a constant reminder of his dominance.

Your vision is a haze of red and black, the world around you a swirling maelstrom of agony.

The dynamite reaches its crescendo, the hissing and crackling suddenly giving way to a deafening roar. The explosion rips through the room with the force of a thousand suns, the blast wave tearing into your body as it erupts from within.

The pens that were once lodged in your flesh are now shrapnel, shredding your insides as the explosion rips through your core. Your screams of agony are swallowed by the inferno, your body contorting in a dance of pure, unbridled pain.

The explosion is a symphony of destruction, your body the instrument he plays to compose a macabre masterpiece of carnage. The pens, once cold and lifeless, are now molten metal searing through your flesh, painting the walls and floor with your blood. The blast sends shards of wood and glass flying, piercing your skin and embedding themselves in the bodies of the slain characters that lay around you, turning their silent vigil into a grisly tableau of pain.

♡ Yandere! Author steps into the room, the acrid smoke still lingering from the explosion. His eyes are alight with a manic glee as he looks upon the carnage—your remains a grotesque tapestry of gore and shredded flesh.

He claps his hands together, the sound echoing in the silence, a standing ovation for the horror show you've unwillingly become.

♡ Yandere! Author approaches your ruined form with a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Ah, my dear protagonist," he coos, "such a beautiful spectacle of suffering. But the story isn’t over yet."

He reaches down, his hand disappearing into the mess of your remains, and pulls out the still-glowing pen embedded in your shattered pelvis.

"Look how you've been marked by my narrative," he says, holding it up to inspect the crimson coating. The heat from the explosion has made it hot, almost searing his hand, but he seems unfazed by the pain.

♡ Yandere! Author then picks up your torn heart, bringing it closer to his twisted smile, his teeth sinking into the remains of the flesh, as if it's a ripe apple. He chews slowly, savoring the metallic taste of your blood mingling with the charred meat. "Mmm," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours, "still beating. How utterly fascinating."

The room is a macabre tableau of destruction, and he is the artist, standing over your shattered body with a grin that splits his face like a chasm.

♡ Yandere! Author chews thoughtfully, your heart’s rhythmic thumps echoing in his mouth as he speaks around it. "You're still alive," he says, his voice sticky with your blood. "I never said I’d let you die so easily."

His words are a taunt, a promise of more to come, and as much as you want to scream, to rail against the pain and the horror, you can’t. Your vocal cords are gone, torn away by the explosion.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in the blood-soaked room.

He drops your heart into the palm of his hand, watching it pulse weakly as he speaks. "You see, my dear, death is for those who dare to bore me. And as much as I'd love to end this little… narrative, you're not quite ready to leave the stage."

He strokes the heart with his thumb, a twisted affection in his eyes. "Not until I've had my fill of your suffering."

♡ Previous Part. He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

♡ A/N. Sex without true danger is boring as shiz. And yanderes without the fear factor aren't peak yanderes. They're just on the possessive or vanilla shiz. Pathetic. Yanderes have to actually scare the shiz out of you. Because that's how true horror is. It doesn't even have to be gore, of course! These are my rules for myself when writing my "true yanderes". But, I suppose most authors don't want to severely hurt, much less kill the darling, especially if they're actual readers. Aw, but don't worry, I'm different. None of you are truly safe in my stories ahaha. Anyways, this is the second part I was talking about for Yandere! Author. I was trying to find yandere horror content for actual sadistic yanderes that can and will kill the darling, but can't find anything! Ugh, people always want soft, sub, comedic, or braindead sex yanderes, and no true danger of actual MC suffering and death.... WHERE IS THE HORROR. It's always just either pure horror or baseline (or worse braindead smut) yanderes. No proper mixing and cooking of the elements! dsjkfalds I'm starving for content.... Fine, I'll do it myself. Yanderes that will hurt, and may kill you. Happy Valentines, you're welcome. uhahaha.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337 , @mocalocha

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[cain-e-brookman]

Hey y'all, @creatingblackcharacters has created a challenge for Black History Month and I thought I'd share my entry. I'd like to tag @topazadine @illarian-rambling @mx-ryder and @spideronthesun for the challenge as well!

Uthyr is the main character of my current WIP: The Name, Witch. His is a story of healing, of putting down shame, and of being true to the spirit of what created you, no matter how the world wants you to bend. This is a scene that takes place about 10 years before we meet him in this same garden. Uthyr's greatest victory is always against despair. Uthyr's strength is in his conviction to himself, the culture and virtues that were passed onto him, and his love for the world around him. In my writing, I want my Black audience to see their own resilience in Uthyr. I want to highlight Black men in roles that are softer, but no less strong.

I also sincerely hope that this book can be a long shout out to my Black autistic sibs who are also obsessed with bugs, amphibians, and/or reptiles. I gave my hyperfixation to Uthyr, and I hope you feel seen with it as well. As I said in the comments to a very needed check, joy is just as important as resiliency, and I hope you find as much happiness as Uthyr does in with cold little buddies!

---

perhaps on the crest of each stiff blade of grass hangs the eternal name of someone who was once loved but is now vanished and just another name in an endless field of names that is newly remembered with each return trip of the eager nose...

-Hanif Abdurraqib from "The Crown Ain't Worth Much

The hydrangea bush to the north of his house was the first thing Uthyr put into the soil in his soon-to-be garden. An old witch tradition. The color of the flowers changed with the humors of the soil. Uthyr didn’t know which color he hoped for, just that it grew to be strong. He hoped the plant would grant him the same blessing.

The last thirty-some years of Uthyr’s life had left behind the cooled pyres of his family, and the last two since the death of his mother had left him adrift. The first, a long year where he’d traveled to nowhere in particular, stayed where he found place to stay, and searched desperately for a purpose. At the end of that long year, he realized, exuberantly, there was none. No end to rush to, no greater deed to be done. He would not be rewarded for suffering, would not reach some peak where it became all worth it. He would not find a purpose, nor would he make his own. He would, instead, simply live. Live brightly, now. Live fearlessly, now. He didn't know where he would go, but he knew where he would start.

He practiced his healing for the first time since his father died. A young girl had taken a fall in the small town in which he was staying. He'd gone to her without a thought, placed his hands around the break, and reached out where he knew the magic still laid. The feel of bone knitting beneath his fingers nearly had him in tears. He could hear his father’s warm, heavy voice as he worked:

Bone remembers its home, just not the way back. Remind it gently, and its journey will be painless.

The little girl hadn’t even cried. He’d pulled a dandelion seed that had stuck itself on his cloak and grew it into a miniature sun before placing it behind her ear for bravery. The Sun Goddess rarely answered his beckons for fire, and his stubbornness never won out over the Stone’s, but neither skill brought about the smiles of gratitude he’d seen in all his time healing. He wished it hadn’t taken him so long to appreciate that part of himself, that part of his father’s influence.

Then, after a long while of fighting with his own head, he finally chose himself. Two weeks in a temple to the God of the Golden Moon saw him leaving behind the word “daughter,” to be replaced with a name that held responsibility to no one but himself. Uthyr of the Asphodels, First of His Name. His mother’s now held nothing a burden of failure on his shoulders. He could have been better for her. Should have been better. But he could not make the dead proud, so he cast off the guilt. It no longer served either of them. 

He changed his hair. Spent a long day removing neat rows of braids from his head, combing and washing then rolling his hair like he’d seen his uncle do so many times. At the end of it all, he had sore arms and a deep satisfaction. The start of those locs still stuck oddly from his head in their awkward stage.

“Ugly stage,” his mother used to tease Uncle Callum when they recounted stories of their youth. His uncle would always raise an eyebrow and inform her in no uncertain terms that he’d never been ugly a day in his life. Uthyr planted snapdragons by his window for them both; their favorites. Yellow for his mom. Purple for his uncle. The seeds had been expensive for the paltry savings he’d kept from his brief stint of odd-job healing around the surrounding towns, but the memory of the two exchanging plants on their shared birthday had Uthyr lightening his coin purse without a second thought.

He continued with a few more plots around his house. A smattering of pansies for color, some herbs for healing, then some more for cooking… 

A single row of daffodils by his doorway. For his father. His birthday would be soon. Uthyr would cut one and light a candle. Pray the Death God pass on his love.

I’m alright, he’d tell his father. It’s hard and I’m tired, but it’s alright. I’ve got good soil under my feet and good hands to dig.

The anemones he planted on the shaded side of his house were for himself, though. They were delicate things, but right now so was his heart and that needed just as much care. He’d stay strong for them and they’d do the same for him. Water and sunlight. The start, his uncle would say, to any life worth living. 

And hope, Uthyr thought. Half of it was always hope.

When Uthyr finished for the day the sun was drawing long shadows across the forest floor. All but his pansies would not see color or flower for a long while, but as Uthyr dusted soil off the dark skin of his hands and forearms, he could already see the future it held. He would get some roses. Maybe not this year. He needed to plant his vegetable garden first. Maybe splurge on a fruit sapling. Tonight he would sit in his mostly empty home, cook a small pot of soup with ingredients from a garden that wasn’t his, and plan recipes for when his own produce grew. But as for now, he felt the waking breath of spring on his face, the softness of the grass under his legs as he dug his toes into the cool earth below him. 

A tentative peace was forming in his chest, walking haltingly like a newly born fawn. He’d found a creek not far from where he sat. He wondered if the tadpoles had yet grown legs.

---

And now, my excited rambling: the title of the poem before the cut is Notes On Waiting for the Dog to Find the Perfect Place to Take a Shit While Morning Cuts Through the Sky, Fresh From Another Darkness, which is quite possibly one of Abdurraqib's best titles and also a wonderful poem. I saw When I Say Loving Me Is Like Being a Chicago Bulls Fan posted on facebook at one point and I've been in love with his poetry since. The way he weaves pain and hope with his anger and his love in a way that criticizes a society that doesn't value himself or people like him, while celebrating his identity is both masterful and cutting. Listen to the man and buy his books! His essay collection, A Little Devil in America: In Praise of Black Performance is going to be my read for my essay collection square for the 2025 book bingo, and I'm really excited to finally get to it!

[chilling-seavey]

Till We Meet Again (ls18)

↳ Timeless: F1 Grid Masterlist

↳ Summary: The Canadian army gave almost a million souls to the Great War. On the morning of November 11th, the shelling stops and Lance struggles to adapt to the silence.

↳ Title Song: Till We Meet Again by Charles Hart and Lewis James (1918)

↳ Word Count: 0.9k

↳ A/N: Oh how I love emotionally destroying characters through my favourite period in history x

↳ Warnings: Descriptions of war and death and corpses, mentions of thoughts of suicide and hopelessness.

November 1918

The sound of shellfire almost felt comforting to Lance after four years spent at the front. When the news of the impending armistice came, he had almost forgotten what silence was like, what life was like before the khaki uniforms and the weapons and the mud. It felt entirely foreign. He would have to sail back to Canada and return to a land untouched by war, to people who didn’t understand. For four years he had been filled with this pit of loneliness. Surrounded by thousands of men constantly and yet war was so damn lonely. 

The men with whom he enlisted back in 1914 were all long since deceased; their bodies blown to smithereens and rotting in battlefields or crudely buried in makeshift graves behind the Allied front lines. Making friends was futile—they would be killed before you formed a proper friendship—and Lance had learned that the hard way, more times than he cared to admit. Perhaps he was naïve. 

Lance swore that the fact he was still alive was equal parts a miracle and a curse. He thought about it before; taking his own life. It would be so easy to just dislodge his bayonet from his rifle and stab himself in the stomach (never in the chest; the blade would get stuck between the ribs. That was their first lesson in training camp) and bleed out in the murky waters of the Belgian trenches with the ever-grey skies stretched out above him. 

But, as much as Lance wanted to put an end to his own suffering and the suffering of the hundreds of thousands of men alongside him, he knew he was no coward. No way on God’s blasted Earth was he going to subject his parents to the letter from the General that their son had died a coward’s death. So he sat in the mud and he waited for an absolution for four fucking years. 

On the morning of November 11th, it had become common knowledge that at eleven o’clock, Germany’s surrender would be in effect and all fighting would halt. Lance, who had worked his way up to the rank of Lieutenant over his four years at the front, ensured that his platoon knew that they were still in active combat until the clock struck. There was to be no lollygagging. That was how you got shot.  

Bombardments from both sides stretched on through the morning and every time Lance watched one of his men fall, dead, at his feet, he wondered if this was all worth it. His pocket watch, with its glass cracked from some earlier battle he had fought and won, counted up the minutes towards the top of the hour. He swore he heard cheering behind the shellfire, cheering in anticipation for the ceasefire. 

Lance joined his men for a last hurrah; standing at the parapet of their intricate trenches carved through the heart of the Earth. He had grown up into a man in those trenches, learning what it was to live and die in that rat infested grime from his first day as a Private at the ripe age of eighteen. In a way, war was all he knew. As he stood there on the firestep, Lee Enfield rifle pointed out towards No Man’s Land and firing at will, he wondered if life after would be far more hellish than war itself. 

He had a nephew back home in Montreal, his sister had written to tell him. She had given birth almost a year prior by then. He had yet to meet the little fella. Part of him didn’t want to. How could he even think to touch something so precious and innocent with hands that had killed hundreds of men? In the privacy of his own mind, Lance silently hoped for the final German bullet to hit him square between the eyes. 

Instead, the top of the hour came and the Belgian battlefields fell silent—ear-ringing silent. While most of the men cheered and tossed aside their weapons and shared embraces of camaraderie, that the worst was over, Lance was amongst the few who were stunned motionless. 

He lowered his rifle from the parapet and let the butt of it fall to the firestep under his feet with a dull clunk before it toppled over onto the mud with a wet splat. His boot followed, stepping down, one and then the other, his expression solemn and unflinching even as men bustled around him, jostling him to and fro. 

Lance flopped down into one of the dugouts in the wall of the trench as if his legs could no longer hold him up. He rested back against the familiar Earth, the damp soil that smelt of rain and corpses, and he turned his eyes upwards to the sky. Men around him thanked God for this joyous end. God? There was no God. God was as dead as the rest of them. 

He reached up with muddy fingers and pulled off his helmet as his body melted into the shape of the small dugout. His dark hair was plastered across his forehead in mud, sweat, blood…his skin tinged a permanent murky orange-brown hue from it too. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked in a mirror. The thought alone filled him with dread. Everything now, every thought, held an undertone of dread.

The uncertainty of war was constant and reassuring: fight to live or die. It was black and white. 

The certainty of the comforts and luxuries of life outside of it was fucking terrifying. 

While the world celebrated peace, Lance sat.

He put his face in his soiled hands and he sat, and sat, and sat. 

And waited for an absolution.

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[thebaffledcaptain]

The incredible view from Mount Defiance this weekend at the 1777 Brown’s Raid Reenactment at Fort Ticonderoga. We set up a bivouac camp Friday night and woke up at 5 to trek all the way up the mountain and seize the guns—I’m not going to lie, that hike almost did me in before the British did—but it was worth it to emerge from the woods and see the red sun rising over a sea of clouds, the Fort entirely obscured in the distance.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

On Kurapika's Self-Imposed Isolation

While I recognize that probably everything I'm about to say is going to be super obvious, I just wanted to briefly touch on Kurapika's self-isolation, and the reason behind his not picking up his phone or exchanging anything more than clipped words and business after Yorknew.

I think the obvious answer is that Kurapika doesn't want his friends in harms way, or to be used as a bargaining tool against him. This is an understandable and probably accurate conclusion. After all, Gon and Killua did get taken hostage, and Kurapika was forced to negotiate an exchange. Chrollo picked up on Kurapika's "weakness" right away - that he values his friends' safety before his revenge. Fortunately for Kurapika in this situation, Pakunoda was a whole lot more similar to him than he would've cared to admit, as she placed a value on Chrollo's life even though everyone in the Spider was intended to be replaceable. So, now that he's been through Gon and Killua having potentially gotten killed or seriously hurt, and Chrollo knows that he has a soft spot for them, it does make sense that he would try to push them away for their safety and for the sake of not having an exploitable "weakness" in future. He may also not want to burden them more when they have their own lives to live - he does slip off without telling Gon and Killua for the sake of not distracting them from Nen training, after all.

Except that he already tried all this earlier in Yorknew arc. He tried to tell them they shouldn't get involved, and they all agreed that the risks were massive - but his friends agreed to undergo the risks anyways to help him. Kurapika was even grateful for it - "I have been blessed with good friends."

So, for him to push them away solely for this reason after the fact, knowing that this was very much a likely situation to happen, is a little odd to me. Kurapika knows full well that Leorio would be frustrated, Killua would be offended and Gon would worry. So, I think there's a little more to it than that, and I actually would venture to say that "keeping his friends out of danger" is more a secondary reason for his actions - one that would come across as more of a reasonable excuse to others.

The primary reason is likely a lot more selfish than that. Kurapika has to ensure his mission comes first. And unfortunately, he is fully aware that his path and choice in abilities is deeply self-destructive.

Kurapika needs to make sure that he doesn't have exploitable weaknesses, sure, but he also just as much needs to purposefully worsen his headspace - and he can't do that with those three around.

Think back, what are the happiest moments we see from Kurapika in the series? The one that comes to mind first, and the one I'm sure most of us will think of immediately, is this:

[ID: A screenshot from the 2011 anime adaptation. Kurapika smiles - he looks at ease. End ID.]

It's one of the sweetest scenes of the series imo, right before the whole group is reunited for the first time since the Zoldyck Family arc, and it's even more notable because it comes immediately on the tail end of this...

[ID: Three panels from HxH Chapter 101. Kurapika removes his contacts over the sink. His expression is distant. End ID.]

...and this...

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 101. A close up of Kurapika's vacant and furious expression, his eyes wide and dangerous as he says "It might as well be you." Though the art is in black and white, it's apparent his eyes have gone scarlet. End ID.]

...and this.

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 101. A distant Kurapika speaks on the phone on a rooftop at night, the cityscape of Yorknew around him dark, but speckled with lights and stars. He says "The Spiders are dead." His face is not visible to the reader. End ID.]

This is, up to this point in the series, Kurapika at his lowest. In contrast to Gon, who is happy to hear that the Spiders are dead already because now Kurapika can focus solely on finding his peoples' eyes, Kurapika... is clearly not happy - and that's because killing the Spiders himself isn't just revenge. It's penance. It's survivor's guilt. Kurapika's powers, which Izunavi even comments sound much like he is chaining himself in the process of chaining his enemies, are oh-so-beautifully prophecied to destroy him - and Kurapika was aware of this from the moment he set off down this path of revenge.

(As a side note, this is why I'm really hoping we see Gon and Kurapika interact again after the Chimera Ant arc - while Gon has always been pretty attentive to Kurapika's emotional state, in Yorknew, he lacks a true understanding of why Kurapika would go so far... but as of now, he understands rage fueled by guilt and grief all too well. I know we're all rooting for Leorio to reach Kurapika, but barring that, I really think Gon could get through to him - after all, they are similar in several ways, and I find it fairly apparent that Gon reminds Kurapika of Pairo.)

But back to the main point here - I do suspect Kurapika expects (if not wants) his revenge mission to destroy him. I think a lot of times, we forget just how young Kurapika is, and how much his character is dictated by honour, and the abandonment of it.

Certainly, he can and will go against his principles for the sake of his mission... yet, almost paradoxically, he's bound to his promise to his fallen clan; a promise to avenge them made in anger.

But Kurapika... doesn't come across as a naturally angry person to me at all.

He seems like the stoic, vengeful type on his initial introduction... and then we get his panic at Gon's recklessness

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 2. Kurapika and Leorio wear matching expressions of panic in front of Gon, calling him out for his recklessness. End ID.]

...and his near-immediate forgiveness of Leorio after getting the first inkling of his character - of someone who cares just as fiercely as he does.

And after that point? Almost all through the Hunter Exam? Kurapika smiles so readily at them. He's sharp and funny. He mediates at times, but is stubbornly prideful in others. He's very amused by his friends' antics, and it really does seem like he starts to enjoy himself, with them. And, more than that, he counters Leorio's initial impression of him as an independent loner - on several occasions. He decides to follow Gon because Gon intrigues him. Asides from Gon, it is Kurapika who is the most unwilling to fight each other at the bottom of Trick Tower. Kurapika who makes the first move to team up with Leorio, even though that arrangement benefits Leorio much more than it does him. Kurapika who refuses to abandon Leorio to his fate in the cave, and who checks on Gon after noticing his bad mood. Who was furious enough watching him get beat down by Hanzo that his eyes went scarlet for the first and only instance outside of Spider mentions and Emperor Time. Who quite readily detoured to help rescue Killua.

[ID: Three screenshots from the 2011 adaptation Hunter Exam arc. In the first, Kurapika smiles at a sleeping Leorio. In the second, Kurapika stifles laughter as he pretends he's asleep. In the third, Kurapika has an open-mouthed smile as he acquires the airship tickets for them, Leorio and Gon standing behind him. End ID.]

Look at him! He's so bright! So happy!

...too happy. Too happy to do what he promised himself he would do. And that's his biggest fear, isn't it. Without his rage... what is he left with?

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 2. A close up of Kurapika's eye as he says "I do not fear death. What I fear is that my rage will one day fade away." End ID.]

Kurapika is far, far less mired in anger when he's with his friends. I actually dare to say that at certain points, he was able to go for lengths of time without thinking much about it - alternating between almost forgetting in one instance and being hit like a sledgehammer on exposure to a reminder in the next. This violent swing is... actually the beginnings of the natural process of healing from loss and trauma. But to Kurapika, who's made a promise to his people's memories, this is not a relief. This is betrayal.

I think that actually scares him, that he can almost picture it. A life beyond his guilt. That he, too, could learn to be happy, even after unimaginable loss.

And so, as Kurapika continues his mission offscreen, finding more and more gruesome reminders of the cruelty inflicted on his people and losing more and more pieces of himself in the process (in his own words, no less), he prioritizes his responsibility to them, and pushes away his distractions. He cannot be a soul at peace until his work is done; he must be in turmoil. He pushes people away who he cares for, and binds himself, and keeps his people's eyes on him, quite literally, because respite, for him, is unacceptable. Perhaps that guilty part of him even hopes, by the end of this, that his soul will be so unrecognizable as to be fundamentally unsalvageable. But the truth of the matter is, or at least what comes across to me, is that Kurapika cares much more fiercely than he hates. He knows what matters most. And for as long as he does, he still hasn't truly lost himself.

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 350. Kurapika looks down at baby Woble with a gentle, yet complicated expression. The inking is somewhat softer. End ID.]

Kurapika's soul is kind, really. And it wants to heal - but for the sake of his mission, he needs it damaged and bleeding. And so, he forces himself to exist in that pain. All alone.

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 344. Kurapika, dressed in a black suit, sits with his back to the reader, looking down at a photo in his hand. He is slumped a little before the church vigil he has prepared, all his clan's eyes lined up in their jars and honoured with flowers and candles. He thinks to himself "There is no home for me to return to... and nobody to welcome me back. I have nothing left." End ID.]

[helielune]

and stalling only goes so far when you've got a head start

[lesbianmaxevans]

2.07 || 2.08

[tearitar]

this might be petty but 4 of my coworkers pissed me off so bad last week (each individually pissing me off) I put them in a room together, knowing they all hate each other.

[skitskatdacat63]

2023 Brazilian Grand Prix - Podium - Fernando Alonso

[laesas]

RamKing + Venus Flytrap || by kinnbig

[cryptvokeeper]

my take on the suffering Game graphic novel is that they did the Suffering Game dirty but they did that Lunar Interlude REAL good

[mooniety]

Concerning your last post, is there any chance you can tell more about your pupupu train au 👉👈

HI YES OF COURSE I AM FINALLY GONNA ANSWER THIS I AM SO, SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG, MY BRAIN JUICES HAVE NOT BEEN FLOWING & I HAVE BEEN MENTALLY STUCK IN ESSENTIALLY WHAT IS AN EXTREME LACK OF MOTIVATION ALONGSIDE COLLEGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

however, i will admit that this is AWFULLY barebones as what i have in my notes app besides this post is legitimately just a bunch of random comedic bits i've made regarding these two in a pupupu train context, mainly the "haha mk refuses to let susie transfer" bit

fair warning: this is a very metasusie coded answer so anyone who is uncomfortable by the ship, i really don't think this is your cup of tea ^^; sorry!

also here's cut so no one needs to read this freakishly long answer if they aren't interested

as of currently, i'm not really sure how the other units will work, but i do know that it will be based on the separate station masters of the real life collab:

kirby for tokyo

dedede for osaka

mk for nagoya

& with station masters comes units, & with units comes staff, which is where our favorite allies come into play:

in kirby's unit is magolor, who's only interest appears to be the fame it will bring him. despite being part of the most popular unit throughout japan, magolor wishes to be recognized, unhappy that he is simply regarded as another employee of japan's top unit, with kirby taking all of the press & fame

within dedede's unit is taranza, who finds trains to be a great solace after applying to the osaka train station as an internship during his stay at osaka university & since then has become a full time employee, working as the assistant station master. he appears to be romantically interested in a woman named sectonia who frequents the station. it's unknown how she feels about him though.

& in mk's unit...IS SUSIE, WHICH IS WHERE I'M GOING TO TAKE A HUGE DETOUR TO JUST TALK ABOUT (because i legitimately do not have this entire thing fleshed out despite it being over several months since this ask was sent in --again, i apologize.)

so, let's talk about susie! (best girlfailure 😍)

susie is an employee of the nagoya station, currently working as assistant station master. she's built her entire way up to her current position, initially working as a humble customer service worker to within several months the position she is currently after proving her worth through helping during dire situations at the station with her extensive knowledge in engineering

she got this job from taranza, an old high school friend of hers that she managed to keep in contact with. aware she was going to graduate from tokyo university soon & wanted to continue living there afterwards, he told her that job applications for all the train stations were opening up soon & recommended she start there in order to get some good experience or at least build a stronger resume for the future, even doing her the favor of recommending her specifically to kirby. although it didn't really seem to entirely work out unfortunately --good job on taranza for at least trying though, we all need a friend like him frfr 💯💯

unfortunately, even after climbing up the ranks, she's still somehow considered a nobody, often relegated as another typical staff member of the station. to add to her frustration, there's a frequent rumor regarding whether mk even has an assistant station master as he's known as "the lone station master" (DO YOU GET THE REFERENCE 👁️👁️) as the position of assistant station master was vacant for over a year until susie came along. they assume that whoever they are, they seem to rarely make an appearance (despite susie's near perfect attendance, even in comparison to mk himself)

well, now that i've mentioned mk, let's talk about him too:

unlike susie, mk is simply said: the literal face of the nagoya station. everyone knows about him & likes him--he's charming, he's eloquent, knows class, & although he can be overly elaborate at times, people like that about him --he's just a very DEMURE man in general (I WROTE THIS PART WHEN IT WAS STILL FUNNY PLEASE LAUGH 😭)

on the other hand, susie DOES NOT like him very much!!!!!! she finds him EXTREMELY annoying, a HUGE attention seeker, & VERY irrational

because of this, mk enjoys picking at susie as a pastime activity, especially over the fact that instead of getting a job for kirby's unit, she ended up working at mk's unit due to her father's address being in nagoya, the cause of it all

even though mk's a frequent dick to susie, he DOES see the effort she puts into her work &--even though he might not show it--greatly respects her as a result. after all, how did she get promoted to assistant station master? vul could've taken it as the longest standing senior member of the crew but mk chose susie instead

generally said, these two essentially have this rivalry on who can piss off the other most, evolving from "i hate you, i cannot stand you & i want you to know that all while NOT losing my job ^-^" to kaguya-sama: love is war type shit as they're both DEFINITELY into it & DEFINITELY into each other

small detour for those who haven't watched or heard of kaguya sama: love is war, it's a great romantic comedy anime/manga & i recommend watching/reading it if you ever find the time & you're into that kind of stuff, very cute & very funny

anyways, going back to susie, despite susie's attempts to piss off mk herself, unlike mk's more...elaborate ways of pissing her off, she typically has to go for the low blows which typically never works or if they do, he immediately gets back at her or if it really pisses him off, he will straight up pull the "i'm your boss." card which is a line susie wishes to never cross as long as she lives!

outside of mk, regarding her relationship with the rest of the nagoya station unit, she's relatively neutral as she doesn't really talk to any of them much outside of work, the only person breaking that rule being sailor dee, a junior staff member who she currently supervises with vul who, as stated previously, is a senior staff member. she enjoys spoiling sailor dee a lot & views him a lot like a younger sibling. she finds his passion for engineering inspiring & she can see a lot of herself in him

however, she does know others outside of her unit, such as magolor, who she met through taranza. as an interesting tidbit, out of the three, magolor is the youngest (& shortest), being 20 as he went to study abroad & graduated early before returning back to japan. taranza meanwhile is the oldest (& tallest) of the three, being 23. susie meanwhile is 21. (for anyone curious about mk's age, he's 24 in this au, which would mean susie & mk have a 3 year age gap)

mk really doesn't like magolor & doesn't want susie to be in a 10m radius of him, & although he doesn't know much about taranza's relationship with susie, he still doesn't want to take any chances

in terms of mk's own relationships, besides the wave 3 trio, he's basically buddy buddy with the rest of the nagoya station unit, absolutely adoring them. in terms of the other two station masters, he's best buds with dedede & views kirby as a younger brother, similar to how susie views sailor dee

going back to susie once again, although she does enjoy her job, she does wish she could maybe transfer to other units because they include closer friends such as magolor & taranza. however, whenever she looks for the transfer applications, they never seem to be there despite mk's claims of restocking them every single day. furthermore, whenever she goes to print out one out instead, the file is also corrupted to a degree that even susie can't save.

even more suspiciously however, the one day mk forgets to hide the transfer applications & witnesses susie take one (he definitely had heart palpitations after witnessing her actually do it), he has never received the application back from her.

now...i've been waiting for this part for a really long time now as this has practically been in the back of my mind ever since i received this ask...THEIR BACKSTORIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

since susie's isn't all that interesting since she already gets tortured by mk, i'll start with hers first:

ever since she was born, susie has lived comfortably in nagoya, practically surrounded in wealth. however, this was all without her mother, who had shortly passed away after giving birth to her, thus the only parent she's ever had is her father. she's only heard snippets about her mother, but because she's never actually met her mother, she doesn't feel particularly close to nor all that curious about her

going into the logistics of her wealth: it is primarily old money, both of her parents--similar to her--born into wealth inherited from past generations. however, in spite of primarily consisting of old money, haltmann would eventually manage to hit it big through an ice cream machine & other similar appliances business he called the "Haltmann Works Company," thus the haltmann family would become a combination of both old & new money, so now…they've just gotten richer!!!!!!!!!!!! however, in terms of their ways & methodologies, they are VERY old money

despite the company's large success however, haltmann & susie would over time become much more distant: haltmann focusing on taking care of the company over his daughter & susie rarely ever able to see haltmann

however, as a still young & naive child, in order to feel some sort of closeness to her father again, susie would be inspired to share similar interests with her father, & would begin to secretly attempt to create inventions on her own

this would eventually cause her to get into a freak accident, leading her to retain a large scar on forehead hidden beneath her bangs & experience mild nerve damage on both arms that she would fortunately completely recover from after several months of physical therapy

however, at the moment, haltmann--fearful of what the press would say & the potential decrease in profits--would close her off from majority of the world, forcing her to keep her distance around others & a relatively low profile, even long after her recovery

that did not mean that he completely did not care for susie though, as during her slow recovery, haltmann would gift susie her mother's favorite silver pocket watch, "Star Dream," within it an old photo of him & her deceased mother carrying susie when she was around two months old.

unable to normally interact with others beyond the haltmann household now, susie would develop a large inferiority complex as she grew up, feeling the constant need to appear flawless & perfect. this would culminate into her often masking in many social situations, especially business related ones

regarding susie's school career, she lived her life going to the best private schools, receive perfect scores all across the board, took multiple extracurriculars --she was essentially your stereotypical perfect student

as stated previously, in high school, she would meet taranza, who was two years her senior & had similarly came from a wealthy background of old money. he would be the only person susie would ever consider a friend, her first real friend even (TARANZA SNATCHED THE TITLE FROM MK, WE LOVE A QUEEN LIKE THAT 💅💅💅)

however, despite being the supposed perfect student, susie was extremely emotionally stunted & very socially awkward, often keeping everyone at an arm's length & unwilling to let her walls down to anyone, not even taranza. she would get by through masking, using it as a defense mechanism--as if it were her against the world--& as a result, unintentionally isolating herself further.

after graduating high school, thanks to her extremely successful high school career, she would be immediately accepted into tokyo university, graduating with a bachelor's degree in mechanical engineering

susie found tokyo university to be a breath of fresh air, a place where she felt she could just be: normal. she felt free during her time there, especially free from the constraints of her father. even though she still felt the need to keep up her prim & perfect persona--as the effects of her past basically already taken root deep into her identity--she nonetheless felt...free.

unfortunately, after graduating tokyo university, haltmann despite his success had been significantly dwindling in health, his health finally reaching a peak immediately after susie's graduation, falling into a crippled state

susie would be forced to go back to nagoya in order to take care of him & the haltmann household, frustratingly postponing her desires to pursue a life in tokyo but also causing her to feel an unreasonable sense of extreme guilt over the fact that she even wanted to abandon her responsibilities in nagoya to pursue her own aspirations in the first place (i specifically state "unreasonable" as it is not her fault for her father's poor health despite how she may feel, there is absolutely nothing wrong with pursuing your aspirations, even if they might be different from what is expected of you by parents & peers)

however, over time after being hired & continuing to work at the nagoya train station, she would eventually find her job to be a blessing in disguise as despite losing opportunities to pursue a life in tokyo, she would be able to reconnect with her father & finally let down her walls (THANKS TO MK), developing genuine relationships for the very first time (HER FIRST ONE BEING MK --lowkey i feel like this is how mk would act, just a huge egomaniac, but he does so as half joke, half who he really is)

as a semi un/fortunate little tease: susie will eventually move on from her job as assistant station master to fulfill the new aspirations she's found after working at the train station. the good news however, is by that time, she'll be in a romantic relationship with mk (MAYBE EVEN MARRIED WHO FUCKIN KNOWS!!!!!!!!!! (i don't)) & still live in nagoya…with him. :DDDDDDDDDD

however, unlike susie's backstory, mk's is much sadder...because he's mk & there seems to be a large consensus that the fandom must torture him in some way 👍👍👍 (ALLEGEDLY ALLEGEDLY ALLEGEDLY, IN FORTNITE, IN MINECRAFT):

mk came from a middle class family with the typical stay at home mother & breadwinner father, thus living a fairly decent life in nagoya

however, while mk was still in middle school, his family would suffer a horrific car accident that would only leave him as the only survivor of the tragedy

this would quickly worsen as immediately after his parents' funeral, he was siphoned of all of assets, including his own house & essentially abandoned by the rest of his family

this would cause mk to become bitter & resentful of others, & he would establish a negative outlook of the world

with no money or home to go to, he had to immediately drop out of school after completing his middle school education in order to find a job --being just barely eligible enough to apply for any sort of occupation

fortunately, he would eventually find work as a full time janitor at the nagoya train station

there, he would meet gk, the current station master at the time --though during the first few months, they did not know each other very well--gk barely aware of mk's existence--only aware that they humorously shared the same surname despite not being related

however, one day, due to extreme exhaustion from working overtime literally every day & obviously not in the right mindset as a high school dropout who essentially lost everything, mk would nearly fall in front of an upcoming train, gk being just there enough in the nick of time to save mk

from that point on, gk would learn more about mk, primarily using vul as his main source of information (as mk would only talk to him out of everyone else in the unit)

through this, he came to the decision that he would help mk out, acting as his guardian, especially after learning about his orphan status

as his new guardian, gk would send mk back to school. however this would not be an easy task as mk didn't want to lose his job due to school (fearful that gk might abandon him like the rest of his remaining family did as well as potentially siphon all his money). thus gk would compromise, changing mk's schedule to part time during the weekends as well as personally pushed to pay for mk's expenses until mk was financially stable enough to move out as mk could barely afford any sort of rent or even groceries--but most importantly of all--afford a normal life again.

in addition, after graduating high school, gk & the rest of the current nagoya unit of that time would pitch in to help mk go to a junior college where he would pursue a major in mechanical engineering & achieve an associate's degree

living with gk would really change mk's initial negative outlook of the world to something much more positive. he can attribute some of his current eccentricities from gk such as his charm & borderline irrationality/overly elaborate nature as well as enjoyment for picking at susie (as gk teased him A LOT, though in a much more lighthearted way than what mk does to susie)

once finished with his studies, mk would move out & quickly climb up the ranks until he became assistant station master himself & eventually the new nagoya station master after gk’s retirement (who was at that point in his mid 70s, my man just enjoys trains yk)

after becoming the new nagoya station master, gk would gift mk his old gold pocket watch called "Galactic Nova"

he would work as the new station master for a bit over a year before meeting susie

funny little tidbit about gk since we've practically reached the end:

gk likes to call susie "mk's girlfriend," even before they were in a relationship (HE CAN SMELL LOVE FROM 1000KM AWAY)

he initially did this as a joke, but when it became real, he switched it up to "mk's wife." idk what he's gonna call her when she actually does become mk's wife. maybe just susie.

furthermore, when he learned susie called mk "Yumeta," whenever he refers to their relationship, he calls mk "Yumeta-chan" to get under his skin, but normally, he calls mk "Meta-chan" --unironically. he really enjoys using the "chan" honorific for mk & when i think about it, probably everyone. (this is a big headcanon of mine that goes beyond just this au)

eh, he's a retired old man, he can do whatever he wants as long as it's not illegal

ANYWAYS I HOPE THIS ANSWERS YOUR QUESTION, AGAIN, I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING LITERALLY NEXT YEAR TO ANSWER

[synintheraven]

Now that the weekend is over I wanted to share these here aaand take this opportunity to thank @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for gifting my bunch of Sihtrics (part 2, lol) to Arnas my beloved and @whitedarkmoonflower for gifting my Finan drawing to Mark BUT also because she was extra nice and gifted a copy of the s4 Sihtric and Sygtryggr drawings I did for her to Arnas and Eysteinn!!! (That last bit was unexpected as I only asked her to give Mark my drawing so naturally I'm over the moon and want to give her a big virtual hug (regardless if she gifted my art in my behalf or hers, I'm still crying) 😭😭🥰) Anyway long story short, you're the nicest guys thank you so much!!!! <3

Additionally, you can find unedited HQ pics of these drawings >here< on my portfolio (recommended to open in Chrome, for whatever reason it doesn't show up from the tumblr app) 💕

[childofthestone]

hot take ooh ouchie but solavellan is not half as tragic as soladash would have been