#soulfulempathy

[poisonedfire]

╰┈➤ @soulfulempathy | continued from [ here ]

The small flame in their hand softly fluttered with the brush of air, delicately dancing upon their palm. It's ember glow illuminated half of their facial features in a gentle glimmer. It held as much beauty as it did destruction. Peyton was more than aware of what possessing such a gift meant, but they preferred to dance on the line between caution and recklessness. They were just human, despite what ability they had.

However, they weren't the type to just simply explain their thought process. It was a complicated arrangement of sentences and words that always amounted to possible actions or ideas. Their train of thoughts were quick-moving, rapid and abstract like a new language. If they were to try, Peyton was positive that Yuki would fail to make sense of it anyway.

There's a hint of an amused smirk that pulled the escort's lips slightly upwards. "You really need to take a chill pill, sunshine" they teased, placing two fingers of their free hand on Yuki's chest. "The hunters didn't see jackshit. They're blind moles. If they weren't, I would have been caught by now."

[hatredcurse]

Kirigakure — One of the few countries that Sasuke very dearly avoided, even in his adolescent travels. Its air layered thick with salt soured by the stacking carcasses of fish in market stalls. The roar of the ocean was ambient in the background and the enormity of it swallowed up the horizon, that at certain points, Sasuke was unsure where the sky ended and the waters began on especially calm days.

He rode in on carriage with a few other attendees, all stationed with a specific task to be carried out. For once, he was not set out on guard duty, keeping in-step to the slow passage of the caravans within the veil of the trees, instead seated within the smothering interior, strung taut to keep from swaying into his bench partner.

When they arrived, the group of them travelled up to the capital, not expecting too much of a welcoming committee. Konoha's alliance with Kiri was tenuous, at best, and while they stripped their banners and united under one during the last war, it did not necessarily imply that they were now table partners dining on shared plates.

The Uchiha's long cloak whipped with the sea wind, flicking from one side to the next in a tangle around his ankles when he carried up the steps to where he was due to meet. Out of formality, he tied his shinobi headband around his neck ( a shiny silver glinting under the midday sun ), over this turtle-collar of his cloak, sans the slash he marked on one he received as a genin. With the renowned Copy-Nin as the incumbent Hokage, Sasuke was practically matching company to him, mirroring his aesthetics in his lord's absence.

" Good afternoon, " he greeted first when he stepped into office, announcing his presence with the band of like-affiliated officers and their many verbose scrolls tucked under arm. " Thank you for having us, " he finished, feeling the words thicken the back of his throat. Resignation, this was the feeling— the ceremony of representing a nation was suffocating.

Closed starter — @soulfulempathy

[hunting-songs]

Surprise Visitor!

Send me “ Suprise Visitor “ for My Muse ( Ask Reciever ) to open their door and see Your Muse ( Ask Sender) standing there, injured, beaten up, exhausted and looking for Help.

Senritsu lay on the bed, unable to sleep, unable to stop listening, listening, listening. Even this early in the morning the Hotel was loud: There was the rustle of bedsheets when the other hotelvisitors in the other rooms turned in their beds, there was breathing as loud as thunder from the cleaning-staff as they for every other ear soundlessly made their way from floor to floor, there was the buzzing of electricity like the rushing of blood through veins going through the wires in the hotels walls, there were the clanking of pots and dishes in the hotels kitchen from the working staff preparing the breakfast in a few hours so many floors below where Senritsu had rented a room.

Senritsu lay on the bed, unable to sleep, unable to stop listening, listening, listening. Even this early in the morning the city past the Hotels walls was loud: There were cars honking, voices laughing and talking so loud their voices stitched into Senritsus ears like needles, wind rushing in between the buildings sharply, the distant humm of the ocean and the muttering of power lines. And steps, so many steps, so so many hectic, exhausted steps.

Senritsu lay on the bed, unable to sleep, unable to stop listening. And between all this mixed also the quiet humming of the elevator that opned with a barely hearable ping on the same floor Senritsus room was on. The door of the elevator slided open, making a trickle of noises wash softly into the corridor loudly. Like a trickle of blood gently hitting the hotelcorridors carpet.

Before Senritsu had been laying on the bed, unable to sleep, unable to stop listening, listening, listening.

Now she was on her feet, in three big steps through the door and did not managed to slow down fast enough on the corridor so she just smacked into the opposite wall loud enough to make her own ears ring.

The woman did not cared; she was listening, listening, listening.

Her head snapped around, listening, listening, listening.

And she sprinted down the corridor, listening, listening, listening.

Towards the elevator.

Towards the sound of a hectic heartbeat.

Towards the sound of blood dripping loudly on the corridors carpet.

Senritsu h never forgot a song she had heard before and a heartbeat was just another melody, therefor this song was as familiar to her as the lullabies her mother had sung to her when she had been just an infant. In the much too bright light of the hotel rooms corridor the blood dropping on the carpet looked almost black. Senritsus small hands reached for the man, aiming to steady him so he could walk with her back to her hotelroom. There was no tremble in the Musicians voice- it was steady, it was firm, it was gentle and it left a vibration in the air that felt as good as a cool cloth on a feverish forehead. The vibration hit the others body, traveled along his limbs, hit his skin, the muscles beneath, the bones and eventually tissue to make it vibrate in the frequency of her voice and with that very easy for the much too keen ears of the woman to hear of what the others injuries consisted: " I see, yes, I can help with that ", the musician nodded to herself as if the other had said something: " Come along, please. You are safe here, " She sang those words soothingly; making bones,muscles and tissue vibrate into painlessness and only continued even more gentle: "come along, Yuki. You are safe, I promise." [ @soulfulempathy ]

[moonsromance]

🌷

⋆₊˚⊹♡ @soulfulempathy. meme. still accepting!

❝I've been working on a book foreeeever. I started when I was twenty-two. So, like, about a decade back. It's all about healing your traumatized inner child through art therapy—like, using creativity as this bridge between your pain and growing into a healthier version of yourself. Dealing with trauma, you know, like. Trauma? Coping? I have trauma, we all have trauma; we, she, he, they, me, everyone and everywhere... Trauma. Coping. In a book. For people to read.❞

Virote reached for a spliff in his jacket pocket, but withdrew his hand after realizing he was too stressed to even smoke. ❝Like, I speak so well...! I do! I can do wonders with a microphone in my face... But writing? Writing is... It's fuckin' horrendous. When I speak, it's smooth sailing. Like polished personal patter and passionate prose pouring out perfectly. Hear that alliteration? Wonderful. I'll write one paragraph and then I'll delete it and then I'll rewrite it. Somehow it's worse. Like, how is that even possible? And, I'll think, ' Oh, maybe I need another cup of coffee, ' but then by the third cup, I'm just jittery as fuck and spiraling like a coke fiend outta my ASS about commas.

The worst part about this bullshit is... I feel like I'm letting people down, I'm letting myself down. I mean, my god, my grandfather is the planetary guardian of intelligence, speech, the written word, et cetera... Like, I can get up in front of an audience and make them laugh and cry and think and feel crushing secondhand embarrassment, but when I'm sitting alone at my desk at 11pm, I just... Freeze like a dumbass. It's almost like my brain knows there's no one watching, so it's like, ' Cool, bro, we're just gonna... Stop working now. Let's go smoke. ' I hate it. Am I crazy? I feel like a Teletubby with a credit card.❞

[feilien]

📖 !!

{♚ x Send me 📖 and I'll give a random Lore dump about the Muse and/or their world. || Accepting x}

   So... I don't think I ever explicitly stated why Matt's weapon of choice (especially for killing) is knives. I mean— we know what he claims the reasons are: they're easy to conceal, he can carry an incredible amount of them on his person at any given time, they're silent, unbelievably hard to trace if utilized right, and it just integrates very well into his fighting style.

 But at the end of the day, he could pretty much achieve the same thing with a gun (to a certain degree). Would probably make his life a little easier, too. The real reason he insists on using knives is because it requires him to be close to whoever it is he's hurting, or killing. He has to look them in the eye, and he does, every time—so he can commit each and every one of his victims to his memory. He doesn't like hurting or killing anyone, but he does it because.. That's what's expected of him, it's how he was raised. He doesn't really know anything else. And while he'd never dare to openly rebel, he at least attempts to do so silently through this self-imposed punishment for doing something he knows is wrong, regardless of who they are or what they've done.

[malka-lisitsa]

“I  must  be  strong.  I  must  have  fire  in  my  eyes  when  I  face  him,  not  tears.”

"And you think fire and tears are mutually exclusive?"

"Half the time I've stared with rage hoping to light the other person on fire through sheer will power- I have had tears in my eyes. Tears are an emotional reaction just like the fire. Tears do not mean you are weak, they mean your emotions are powerful."

[skarletchains]

「 INNER 」 : for sender to kiss along the inside of receivers thigh

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 …

The day had stretched on endlessly, leaving Kurapika drained in both body and mind by the time he stepped into the comforting Yuki's apartment. The warm scent of dinner greeted him first, followed by the sight of Yuki waiting with a smile that melted away the weight of his shoulders. A hot bath and a quiet meal later, Kurapika found himself stretched out on the sofa, a random book resting lightly in his hands.

Dressed only in his black tank top and boxer, he let out a soft sigh, the kind that came with the rare feeling of peace he allowed himself to indulge in when Yuki was near. His focus lingered on the words before him, though the story was more of a background hum compared to the steady and warm rhythm of Yuki’s presence nearby.

It started as a soft brush. Yuki’s lips grazing the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, just above the hem of his boxer. The touch sent a shiver through Kurapika, his breath hitching as the book wavered in his grasp. He glanced down, his hazel -almost orange- eyes catching the mischievous glint in Yuki’s gaze.

“Yuki…” he murmured, his voice low, carrying a mixture of surprise and a warning that was far too soft to be taken seriously. His free hand twitched as though to push him away, but it didn’t move, lingering mid-air as warmth crept up his stomach.

The book slipped from his hands to rest on his chest as he leaned his head back against the couch, his breath deeper. “You’re… impossible” he managed with a playful tone in his voice, a soft smile drawing in his lips, though there was no real protest in his tone. Only the kind of exasperation that came with surrendering to the person who knew him too well.

The hand that was lingering in the air rested on Yuki's head, intertwining his fingers with his locks of hair.

[feilien]

 Long Zhi would’ve been lying if he pretended he didn’t feel his heart drop at Yuki’s words.

 It shouldn’t matter to him, not really. If Yuki made the decision to leave, then that was his decision. And, in turn, he’d face the consequences for it. Hell, Long Zhi himself had delivered those consequences more than a handful of times. He’d never understood why anyone would want to leave to begin with—life in the clan was by no means horrible, and came with far more privileges than drawbacks—and had never hesitated to follow the order to kill the deserters when he’d been given it.

 But he hadn’t known any of those men. He’d maybe seen them once or twice and that was it. He had no feelings for them one way or the other until they became someone who had betrayed the clan. But Yuki? He… liked Yuki. Was quite fond of him, even. Even if he didn't show it. Even if he was too scared to lower his walls and hid behind the 'unapproachable heir' mask instead. He didn’t want to see him dead, much less be the executioner.

 “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear the first question for both of our sakes.” Leaning back into the couch, Long Zhi crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared down in his lap. “Yes, the clan is for life. However long or short that life may be. Lǎo ye is… ruthless at the best of times, but there’s nothing he despises more than betrayal. No one who’s betrayed him has ever lived to tell the tale. Even if they fled all the way back to China.”

 For a moment, Long Zhi fell silent. Then he glanced over at the other, struggling to keep his face neutral and unreadable. “Give it some time, Yuki. You’ll become one of us eventually, I promise. It’s never easy to break into the circle of trust, even if you are Chinese. You have to earn it, prove that you’re trustworthy. To keep us safe from those trying to bring us down.”

One of our own. It was the first time he'd heard anything resembling comradery or acceptance from a member of the Black Dragons. A corner of Yuki's lips lifted up. It was a shame, then, that he wasn't planning on staying long enough to prove himself. As selfish as it was, as reckless as it was, Yuki planned on developing skills and abandoning the clan. Because after Isen was dead...what was there for him? A family with the Black Dragons, a group of people who couldn't possibly trust him, despite the apparent optimism of their soon-to-be leader?

They would likely come after him. That was fine, as long as he had enough time to do what he had to do...assuming he lived long enough to face the consequences of abandoning the clan. Doubt erased Yuki's smile and he looked down in the bowl, resigning himself to setting it on the coffee table beside Long Zhi's.

Right?

"Thanks," he said sincerely. And for the short time he had left, he knew he would do the same for Long Zhi -- should he need it. All these thoughts he tried to keep to himself, but Yuki couldn't help the way his brow knit together, betraying his worry.

Maybe it was the remaining alcohol in his system, maybe it was this strange trust he had in Long Zhi, but where Yuki normally would've remained silent, he continued speaking. "What would happen if I...didn't want to be part of the clan, anymore?" Yuki looked up, but he thought he knew the answer. "I mean, you say you're a second family...is it for life?"

[poisonedfire]

╰┈➤ @soulfulempathy | continued from [ here ]

"Who knows?" Peyton softly shrugged, glancing to Coffee as she diverted her path towards them. A broad smile spread across their features as the feline wove between their legs, rubbing against them with a resounding purr.

"She'd win any demon over." The escort said confidently, bending down to pick her up. She looked towards Yuki as if to say an attitude-filled remark that correlated with her owner's response. Peyton placed her onto the counter and watched as her little paws carried her to Yuki, tail held high.

[withinkandquill-aa]

“Well… I hope you at least gave as good as you got.” // Anya & Yuki // @soulfulempathy

“Of course,” Anya responds, rolling out sore shoulders. Her injuries were significant in quantity but they were nothing serious - bruises and shallow cuts. “I always do.”

[huyaoxiaozi]

@soulfulempathy | PLOTTED STARTER.

       It had taken Zane a year and a half to pick up the pieces of his broken life and find a way to stability. After his chance encounter with the Eastern Shu man who'd saved him from slavers' seeking hands, he'd given in to retreat soon enough. His paranoia had gotten the best of him, but the stranger had given him the name of the studio where he claimed someone had trained him how to use his power effectively. Impact studio. Once he'd had stability, Zane had looked into it — he'd found the place easily enough and moreover, he believed he'd figured out the identity of the man who'd helped him. Yuki Hashikawa.

       It had taken another six months for him to seek Yuki out, as ... he'd seen Zane at his worst. He'd seen him in a way he hadn't allowed from anyone — hell, when he'd sought out work from the Red Fox Clan, he'd even gone through the trouble of cleaning himself up as much as he could, making himself look presentable ... and maybe he'd given himself a nasty cold from cleaning with frigid water on the streets of Ketterdam, but it didn't matter. It had gotten him work and his facade had been effective. No one had known how desperate he'd really been. Except for Yuki.

       Despite how dead and empty the studio looked from the outside, Zane reached to pull open the left glass door — and, to his surprise, it was unlocked. As he peered inside, he noted that there were lights on further in, but most of the lighting was dim or off completely. There was a shoe cubby to his left and, with only one pair of shoes tucked away, it made sense now why the lights were so dim. He just hoped that the one lone person here happened to be Yuki.

       Zane stepped inside and closed the door behind him, then bent down to remove his shoes. He placed them in one of the little cubbies before finally venturing further inside.

       It didn't take long for him to hear a thunk! and, only after a minute or two, the same sound followed. Again and again it went, with short pauses in-between, so ... Zane followed the sound. Soon enough, he did indeed find the man he'd been looking for. Yuki was dressed in loose trousers and a sleeveless shirt, clearly practicing his knife throwing. Each throw seemed to have a personal emotional intensity to it, however — as if he were infusing each knife with whatever pained him and casting it away. At the time, he'd lacked the capacity to notice that Yuki was attractive, but now he certainly didn't.

       Zane tucked one hand into the pocket of his trousers, took a steadying breath and allowed any nervous tension to bleed out of him. He wore a mask of easy confidence as he cleared his throat softly and rapped his knuckles loud enough to be audible against the door frame. When their eyes met, he knew for certain that this was indeed the man who'd saved him from an even more terrible fate than he'd already suffered — and a soft, crooked smile curled at his lips. ❝Is this a bad time? ❞

[threebreaths]

THE BOSS | @threebreaths - an independent, selective blog for Isen Reiou, a fandomless original character. A ruthless villain with a hunger for power, a penchant for violence, and a strange desire to abandon his flight toward the sun — given the right circumstances. Original lore-based world, mature themes present (such as torture, murder, gore, etc). Written by Lily. Paired with @soulfulempathy

[moonsromance]

🌙

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · . @soulfulempathy. meme. still accepting!

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ tom misch / ❝follow.❞

i know it's alright here / but follow your heart dear / i know your dreams are clear / don't you know we all fit in / don't be afraid of who you want to be / remember i'm here, mmm / so maybe you should take the first step / and the rest will follow / it will follow.

yuki and vi always end up in the same place... the record shop, the botanical garden, the noodle joint, the dim sum spot, the used book store... and this kind of gives me the vibes. a lil boombap, a lil hiphop, a lil jazz. melts into the early setting autumn sun. yuh yuh yuhh.

[hunting-songs]

Valentines Day Test! "It’s Valentine’s Day. As you drift in thought, your phone suddenly flickers to life. An app pulses softly on the screen, waiting for your touch…"

Biting the inside of her cheek to not laugh Senritsu looked at her mobile phone and tilted her head to the side like a confused bird: "I m not sure if I like that cupid knows the mobilephone number to my workdevice, considering my occupation in he Nostrade-family..." The woman could no longer hold back a melodic chuckle dancing through he air like a song before she just shaked her head slowly: "...mhmmm, I am okay with the result as long as cupid does not expect me to lay eggs."

Tagged By:Cupid ! Tagging: @kiigan @skarletchains @saiakv @kylo-wrecked @bewitchingbaker @muddsludge @zaeltry @distortedkilling @lightfaithed @soulfulempathy ...and YOU!

[tamedgod]

what does your soul look like?

an ancient tree with gnarled branches; You are the old soul. You are a being full of quiet wisdom, but it did not come without earning it. Experience has weathered you quickly, yet you remain strong through it all. You are a bastion to those who need the support of a calm and resolute mind. The histories of the world are etched beneath your thick skin, and you hold dearly to things that others would quickly forget. You collect things within your branches, you give home to those left without, and you bear the weight of it all. But through all you have been through, you have not yet learned how to let go. You refuse to relinquish what you cherish so dearly and weep for every precious thing that falls from your branches. You must be careful, or else the past you cling to might destroy a brighter future.

a castaway heart; You want to be loved so badly. To be accepted. You are so eager to give your heart away, but it always comes back to you bruised and broken. You know you should never trust anyone again, yet you end up doing it anyway and making the same mistakes again and again. Take more care of your heart, please. It is worthy to be loved. It is worth more than what you give it. You deserve to be cared for, to be treated tenderly. Or do you not think so? Do you see no worth in yourself? You are not a thing to be used and discarded, and neither is your heart. The best keeper of your heart is yourself. Learn to trust yourself, and build the home you long for within your own chest.

tagged by: @soulfulempathy tagging: @face-breaker, @godmarked / @godstate, @byanyan, and anyone else who would like to steal it!

[malka-lisitsa]

“I might’ve befriended a mafia boss…”

"Are we talking friend, or Friend?"