#mentally i am writing

[quixoticmoth]

Missing Someone

(A small scene for my work Railway Ronin from the perspective of Mikazuki, one of the two main characters.)

Above the lake I watched the green-hued moon; impending as it was and close to the earth, and around my feet I felt warm caresses as it pulled the tides higher to meet me. My shoes were gone, and I hadn’t any idea of when I shed them. I think at some point I shed my gloves; I only realized as my fingers dug into silky, water-loosened sand. And when I took a deep breath of humid air, I found that I shed my mask at some point as well. It was me, here, bare of all identities.

Content at the foot of the celestial throne, I was a mere visitor to the god of the lake who lived here and whispered to me from the distant shore. Not in words she whispered, but in the chimes that hung from her shrine. They played out across the water, riding the ripples in concentric circles that crossed the ones which emanated from me in kind. The geometry was beautiful. I wondered the sound of my own music and hoped she heard this song of mine. 

But as I rested here at water’s edge, the song grew sour. Her chimes responded to mine with an indignant harshness that struck my ears. What had I said? What had I done to upset her? I couldn’t explain myself, not without my face or name… No, not that I couldn’t, but she didn’t listen. The once artistic ripples rose to roaring waves that roped me in. As a wave of anger swelled up inside, I struggled! 

The sky and moon were lost to me, and the fabric of the lake that surrounded me held my arms fast. I couldn’t stand to listen to the music anymore lest I scream and fill my lungs with cotton and feathers and silks! Then, freeing a heavy arm, I reached for the phone on my nightstand, sliding a thumb to hang up the call. The offending music was all at once gone, and the lake along with it.

 All that was left was me, the darkness, and the phone lain next to my shoulder drowning among the sheets.

And the irritating song played again. So I squinted against the irritating light. The caller ID read the name of my most irritating half. And tempting as it was to hang up again, I hadn’t enough mind to question what this early morning call was for.

“Good morning,” I said, and since I was fresh from sleep, my voice sounded softer and higher than I intended. I cleared my throat of day’s-first-words.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” he said. I judged he was loud enough that I could set the phone on the pillow and still hear just fine. I could even close my eyes. “Sounds like you slept well.” 

Not really.

“Mikazuki?” he asked. I had been lulling once more, and never actually said what I meant to aloud.

“Sorry, I was dozing off,” I said. I overcompensated for the lithe voice before and now came across husked. Oh, absolutely not that either. 

Kyle's laugh vibrated close to the microphone. “Have any good dreams?”

I thought of them, but only found myself seeing vague shapes of branches and the feeling of going. I went somewhere; somewhere important to me. There was someone there, but I couldn’t remember who. It was such a grief to only find the shell of a dream. So I hummed and moved past the question. “What time is it?”

“Mmm… half past 3?” Whether that was in my time or his wasn't clear. There was a tint of the anger from my waking moments soaking into the edges of my consciousness. “I just got home,” he continued, ”wanted to see how my favorite person in the world is doing.”

So it was this sort of day, was it? It’s too early to play, but play I did. “Is that me?” I said, not answering the question.

“Of course!"

I hummed again, wishing to fall back to sleep. “You’re home early, aren’t you?” “We wrapped the meeting up early,” he said. “The guest speaker canceled, you know how it is.” 

“I do,” and not wishing to talk about work upon waking, “Have you thought about dinner yet?” “I haven’t even had lunch yet.” “Kyle…”

“I’ll grab something now, don’t worry.” “Thank you,” When I said these things, I imagined myself a busy but beloved wife out of a sweet American soap. Not a romance I think I particularly fit, but a romance nonetheless. With my eyes shut, the scene transformed, colors re-assigned, the static overlay of a TV. Cameras were pointed at us from the periphery of the perfectly arranged kitchen set for a perfectly arranged couple. He went through a few cabinets, rustling packages and pulling boxes of dry snacks onto a counter.

“That’s not a meal,” I said.

“You don’t even know what I grabbed.” He sounded baffled, which uncovered that he was caught.

“I know well enough.”

He put the freeze-dried fruits back. I’ve seen them when I stayed with him; they were his go-to, and I could imagine the specific plums I brought last visit already half empty, but still in the gift packaging.

“Psychic,” he said, getting something from a refrigerator, which then opened with the click and hiss of a vacuum-sealed container.

“You could put them on the salad though.”

“No fucking way.”

I was smiling now, only slightly. He looked around for the studio cameras, but little did he know he was inside the show, and all he could see was me, hovering behind him, watching over his shoulder.

After this, he turned on video call while he ate, dissipating the illusion I had set up in my tired mind. He acted sad when I wouldn’t turn on mine in turn; however, I figured that he just wanted the consolation that I could only see him because he set up a camera himself, rather than wonder what secret way I knew his actions. Which was fine. I didn’t look at the screen the entire time, and when I did, I squinted with one eye at the bright light composed of the white interior of his suite. It had that American city aesthetic of new-age sterility accented with the painted-over carved woodwork of the home’s heritage. It was not my favorite, but I’m sure my home’s style wasn’t his favorite either. 

As I thought about architecture, we spoke longer about the week since we last saw each other. For a moment, it was pleasant; it felt like catching up with a friend. But that wasn’t what it was supposed to feel like; it was supposed to feel like the yearning of a decade-distorted long-distance love affair.

“You never actually told me how you’ve been,” he said. 

“Lonely as usual,” I said quietly as if to hide it from those who share this home with me. There was a sharp rustling against his phone as he moved to another room. I pulled one of my many pillows close for comfort, accidentally bumping my own phone’s speaker in the same way. 

“Yeah?” “Yeah…” It wasn’t a lie, I was lonely. Met with a lapse, my sleep-wracked mind questioned if I should have even admitted that.

When he spoke again it was uncharacteristically gentle. “I miss you…”

“I hate when you say that.” Now that I shouldn’t have admitted, but I already spoke, and so I continued. “I’m right here, you are talking to me now.”

He was thrown off his grove. I threw off the whole grove of the arrangement. Now I was stripping back the layers of this show one by one-  awake enough to know better but bitter enough not to care.

“You aren’t lonely; you have company even when I am not around. And I know you don’t miss spending time with me, as you always find ways to keep apart. You don’t miss my affection. And we talk often; we are talking right now, and still you say you miss me. So what is it in me that you miss?” He wrung his hands, posture deflated on that sterile white couch. The symmetry of the composed shot was broken as he looked off to the side. I knew what he missed. All that was left was for him to say it.

“I…” He hesitated. Inside I was begging him, now cradling the phone in my hands. Please, just say it. There was no one here but us to hear the confession. “I...” Please... “Well, don’t you miss me too?”

I hung up.

The fire-fanning ringtone that had woke me before sounded yet again, and my heart pounded in my throat and ears. “Yuzuki,” I said and was met with a soothing jingle. “Block Kyle, please.” Her voice responded with a mechanical inflection, affirming that Kyle was blocked. The song did not pick up afterward.

It was crushing- the disparity between the silence in the room and the noise from the emotions and thoughts that wracked me. It felt as though that ringtone was still echoing in my head, over again, because I knew that it should be. How was I supposed to go back to sleep like this?

“Yuzuki?”

“How can I help?”

And maybe it was wrong of me to think that the voice of this virtual assistant made me a degree less lonely than the call of my betrothed. “Let’s do a meditation.”

She affirmed my request again. Not long after, I heard her play the calming sounds of water and wind... and the nostalgic music of distant chimes.

[lgbtlunaverse]

Nothing will dispell the "the curtains were just blue" myth faster than writing something yourself, because the amount of pretentious symbolism i am putting in my silly little fanfics is ridiculous. I mean SO much with these words, literally every single one of them. This fic has twenty five typos and zero correct uses of punctuation but if there's curtains you bet your ass I put thought into what colour they were.

[ramblingmindofrayyan]

Sometimes it’s really lonely being me.

[biblically-accurate-dca]

painting test with a limited color palette

here's the moon equivalent!

[quinseparable]

I know its not a lot for most writers, but y'all. I wrote the first 2200 words for an original story of mine. I haven't written much of anything (outside of roleplaying) in like 15 years. I could cry. I miss this so damn much.

[wasabi-gumdrop]

oh

i am. unwell.

[andyling]

THEY MIGHT BE DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE BUT GODDAMMIT THEY FOUND HAPPINESS WITH EACH OTHER AND CHOSE TO ENJOY THEIR TIME TOGETHER DESPITE THE INEVITABLE TRAGEDY AND THAT IS WHY I LOVE THEM

[idyllcy]

please? - jaime reyes x reader (nsfw warning)

Jaime pants, one brow furrowed, sweat dripping down his hair as he cages you in, lips pressed to yours feverishly, whimpering. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks you, sound of the bed creaking as he does. He's sure Khaji Da's mentioning his dopamine and endorphins levels are off the charts alongside his quickened heartbeat, but you're just so irresistible when you're whimpering his name like that. Besides, it's a great stress reliever and post-fight reward. Ugh. He pauses slightly, pushing his hair back as you exhale shakily.

"What? Tired already, mi amor?" You hum, lips quirked upward, expression changing as he thrusts into you again. 

"You're really chatty, mi vida." Jaime mumbles. "Maybe if you didn't look so good, I wouldn't stop to admire your beauty so often."

Jaime looks down as you clench on him from the compliment.

"You're such a womanizer, mi amor." You mumble. 

"Only you get to hear things like this." He hums, thumb finding your clit as he starts again, slower this time, holding you down as he forces you to feel every inch of you, eyes enamored as he watches himself disappear into you slowly, holding you down so you can't squirm.

"Jaime." You gasp. "Please."

"Please what, mi vida? You know you have to say it." He smiles cheekily.

"Harder? Please?" You try, voice coming out weak. 

"Of course." He presses a kiss to the corner of your eye. "All you had to do is ask."

and Jaime loves gently, a reminder that he was affectionate with you no matter the situation, skin pressed to yours, lips pressed to yours, fingers laced with yours— he was yours from the inside out.

[camthecatchameleon]

i offer no further context for this

[quixoticmoth]

You bastard.

"Even when the flashbacks show Iona speaking and acting in ways that indicate one thing, Main will often interpret it the wrong way, hopefully making the reader want to bash their head in."

I hope the latest brainstorming dump counts. I need you to know I am laying in bed and downloaded Microsoft 365 onto my phone and did the convoluted login verification to get into my school files just to grab this.

@coleishere @cxndyfxre @birbmachinee @vastimagines @vinshader @axoleah

These are all the people I can tag. I'm sorry friends.

Last Sentence Game

I was tagged by @daughter-of-inklings (thanks!!)

Rules: write the last sentence you wrote on your wip, and tag as many people as there are words in te sentence!

She could not just leave it, even if it was doing her more harm than good to keep it on.

Words: 20

Tagging @sm-writes-chaos, @bluberimufim, @leisoree, @flock-from-the-void, @fatexweaver, @writingamongther0ses, @macabremoons, @cheeto-flavoured-pasta, @firesmokeandashes, @2d-dreams, @angelicminds, @unclear-contributions, @squarebracket-trick, @neoncherryblossom, @frostedlemonwriter, @tea-and-mercury, @halfbit, @digital-chance, @mjparkerwriting, @mjjune! Those are 20, but of course anyone else who wants to play is free to do so!

[quixoticmoth]

The Oracle and One's seers are relieved to return with their child of prophecy, even if the alien Illuminate is scarred and broken from its time as an intergalactic renegade. The state of being scarred and broken was not of concern the first time they abducted it from its forest planet- not until it exposed its fiery temperament. But they have devised ways of containing (and utilizing) such a strong will since then.

[doumadono]

ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a turning point for me. I've been silent for too long, but I can't stay quiet anymore.

I'm going through writer's burnout, and it has hit me hard. I've been writing on Tumblr and Ao3 for nearly eight years now (with about 1.5 years on my private blog, doumadono). Over that time, I've written more than 400 stories across various fandoms, created the Sinful Sunday event and a series that many people like, helped many with numerous emergency requests — so many that one masterlist wasn't enough to cover them all.

But all of this has brought me to a place where writing no longer feels like a joy, but rather a duty. In my effort to make everyone happy, I lost myself and took on too much, accepting even the most twisted and difficult requests. It made me anxious and unwell whenever I thought about writing. This is why I haven't been posting much these past few weeks. I missed the breaking point and let myself reach a place where I was seriously considering quitting writing altogether and closing both my Tumblr and Ao3 accounts.

There's something else I need to address. I feel completely detached from Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer. I no longer feel comfortable writing for those fandoms. From now on, I'll be focusing mostly on My Hero Academia. Even though the manga recently ended, both the manga and the anime hold a special place in my heart. I’ve fallen in love with the story and its amazing characters. This is what feels right to me at this moment. That doesn't mean I'll never write for Demon Slayer or other fandoms again, but not now, not at this time. Maybe in the future — who knows?

Some of you might know that I've been dealing with a flood of hateful anonymous messages. Even though I’ve grown stronger and no longer consider them relevant, it still hurts to read such nasty words. This is another factor why I need to take a break.

So, what's going to change?

Sinful Sunday will no longer cover requests, and the event won't be as regular as it used to be. From now on, I'll post some sinful pieces specifically written for this event whenever I feel it's right. I'll write only for the characters I feel attached too.

Emergency requests will be limited to two slots and will no longer have a 48-hour window to be fulfilled. Once both slots are taken, emergency requests will be closed until I manage to clear the current asks in my inbox.

As of today, my ask box has been completely cleared. I won't be replying to any past asks, regardless of their origin or topic.

Commissions will remain open, as nearly all the requests have been fulfilled.

Regarding the following projects:

The Kvitravn series will be completed this year, but I can't provide a specific date just yet as I'm still working hard to bring everything together.

There's also a new series on the horizon featuring Dabi in the lead role, with a psychiatrist!Reader as the other main character.

As for Kinktober, I made a hard decision it will not be held as an event on my blog this year at all.

As of now, I want to focus on my own little My Hero Academia based AU that I created with my best friend @crystalwolfblog , and this is something that brings me a lot of comfort nowadays, and it's what I want to focus on. I’ll likely create another blog to post everything related to this AU, to keep things organized (the blog will be linked to my pinned post). This little AU was and is my safe haven for the past year and half, and since it contains all of my favourite characters, I want to focus on it fully.

The time for purification has come. I need to rediscover my purpose and find joy in writing again. To those who understand and have stuck with me since the ThePaperPanda days — you’re amazing and adorable, and I can never express how much I appreciate you, guys 💞

I want to share one last thought. This isn’t a statement, but rather a plea to readers: please respect writers, no matter the content they choose to explore. Writing is not as easy as it may seem; it requires a significant amount of time and effort, often taking up our personal time to craft a story. Don't send anon hate. Spread love instead! The least you can do to show your appreciation is to leave a comment, even if it’s just a word or two. For you, it’s a small gesture that takes less than a minute, but for the writer on the other side, it may be a much-needed sign that their work is meaningful. So if you enjoy an author’s work, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. It truly makes us writers feel like we’re on cloud nine.

Love you all, Marcianna

[anlian-aishang]

Levi with an (Episodically) Depressed S/O

Tags: levi x reader, angst, hurt-comfort, gn!reader Word count: 900

Levi invites you to shower with him, making the obstacle less daunting and much more attractive. In his black robe, leaning on your bedroom door, two towels slung over his arm indicate the knowledge that you will say yes and accompany him. The way that he looks, the low plea in his voice, how could you say no? 

It would be more accurate to say that he was bathing you, but he does not phrase it that way. Instead, he is humble, letting his actions speak louder than words. He does not tell you that he will shampoo your matted hair, does not flaunt how deliberately he exfoliates your limbs, he just does them for you. Some days, even just tipping the bottle or pumping some soap into your hand can seem mountainous. On those days, he sees those activities not as tasks, but as privileges. It is his honor to be the one looking after you in your most dire time. He would always prefer someone to take care of rather than someone to miss. 

Showering together not only ensures that you stay clean, but his company prevents you from those timeless sessions sat on the tile floor. At the moment you look refreshed but before you become sleepy, he jerks the handle to the left and halts the devastatingly relaxing rain. 

Always, your clean clothes are already folded atop the bathroom counter, waiting for you. Some times, you fail to remember that you did not put them there. Other times, you notice the sign of his relentless consideration, but are artificially silenced from expressing your gratitude. No matter in his mind. You are clean, clothed, and out of bed, and that’s already better than you were before. 

Without one complaint, Levi scoops your dampened towel and old clothes from the wet bathroom floor and drops them in the hamper for you. He has seen the piles that can amass, and if it were anyone else in any other circumstance, the clean freak would be quick to chastise, but any sight or thought of you disintegrates any instinct to discipline. You are sat in the living room, admiring the ivy that swirls around the balcony’s posts, thumbing the petals of the bouquet vased on the coffee table. White-gold rays move just a tad west to cast your figure in therapeutic light. You’re too tired to move away from the sun, and for once, Levi finds your fatigue favorable. As the morning temperature rises, he can see that your resting smile does as well. 

While you are entranced with the scenes of summer, Levi swiftly searches for and alleviates the areas you have left neglected. He dumps your sock drawer upside down and mends the pairs that you have discarded as singles. In your closet, he finds the clean pile and dirty pile and either folds it or washes it accordingly. Under your bed, on your nightstand, in your bedside drawer, he discovers the dirty dishes that have been missing the sink and returns them to their proper place. 

Between those tasks, he rolls his shoulders back or rubs the side of his neck and allows himself to sigh. It is difficult - not to bandage these tiny wounds - but to see the harsh bruises left by the illness. Sure, you were forgetful, and not quite as tidy as he was, but still - the mounds of laundry, hidden dirty dishes - this wasn’t like you. Levi lives for your joy - not the superficial smile, your peace - not the misleading silence. He lives for you - in sickness and in health. The times you forget your worth, that is when he whispers it in your ear. When the world is overwhelming you, he lets his touch communicate it. 

Once your space is in order, he can start to work on getting you to leave it. Rather than annoying reminders or obligations, he mindfully manipulates the steps of treatment into desirable invitations. Rather than Do you want to… or Would you like to…, his proposals are statements, taking the responsibility out of your hands. Concerts in the park this afternoon. Let’s go to the farmers market. Apple orchard just opened.

Or even less far away. 

Plants look thirsty, water them with me? Rain just cleared, read on the porch with me? Full moon tonight, stargaze with me?

To you, with me frames the activities, frames your presence as favors for him, and even in your lowest state, you are always keen to help him with anything. To Levi, it is no framing, your relationship is the greatest gift that fate has bestowed on him, and he treats you as such. It is in his selfless actions and his careful words, but it is more than that, traits you can’t quite categorize. The near flat, subtle smile you wake up to in the morning. The tight yet painless combs through your hair that leave you feeling divine. The low, calming timbre of his voice, decorated with a tender tone that he reserves for you. 

Even before the haze you’re in now, you’ve never been able to label those qualities of his, and instead settled: it’s just who he is. 

Like the sentiment that motivates his care: it’s what you deserve. 

// masterlist //

[cwritesfiction]

How are you doing? well I just jotted the concept for a timeloop rom-com in my "future WIPs" doc, so there's that

[excelsior9173]

god. vessel talking about jaws (kerrang interview)

and saying “you don’t know someone until you have seen them destroy something”

I AM CHEWING THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE I AM SO ABNORMAL ABOUT THIS

[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.]