#✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse)

[sasorikigai]

Sometimes, Hanzo/Scorpion’s body reacts quicker than his mind. For his body is a physical manifestation of his experience, which means it is often processing or holding onto traumas that he did not even know were there. By definition, trauma is any deeply distressing or disturbing experience, and understanding how he holds trauma in his body can help him figure out how to release it effectively as a part of a healing process. For traumas are encoded in his brain and his memories, and then that can also translate to living in his muscles and his heart. In his waking moment, Hanzo/Scorpion is pretty good at masking his somatic symptoms; such as tightening of his chest, quickening pulse, pounding head, muscle aches that could not become originated from his strenuous, ongoing training as a formidable warrior, etc. His demons are something he has long learned to accept, but he still struggles to keep them well-kept at times. 

#✗ obsessive cathartic (headcanon) #✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii) #✗ hellfire fibrillating beneath his skin (iv) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #(yeah I know this is such an obvious HC but) #(an important one as healing for him is never a progressive linear graph) #(there are rapid ups and downs and he can go through myriads of emotions in a given day)

[sasorikigai]

[ intertwine & kiss ] + [ cup ] ( for either half-demon or daimyo Hanzo )

the  intimacy  of  hands. || @sonxflight || accepting

[ intertwine & kiss ]  –  for the sender’s muse to intertwine their finger’s the receiver’s muse and kiss the back of their hand.

[ cup ]  –  for the sender’s muse to cup the receiver’s face, and brush their thumb along the receiver’s cheek.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Hanzo Hasashi’s mind is weary and his bones exhausted and he feels the weight of the world pressing down on him. His heart aches, and his eyes are brimming with unshed tears, which makes the polished glint of his amber eyes to scintillate like celestial bodies above. He has had enough of expectations and limitations, and rejection, and opinions, and untruths, and he feels this overwhelming urge to shut it all out. When he doesn’t know how much more he can take, he will always remind himself that he would hold on a little while longer. 

Time had long overcame the regret that is born of delight as it passes in passion away, and leaves but a dream for desire to rejoice in or mourn for with tears of thanksgivings; but the half-demon would have endured the maddest and gladdest of years, more often simultaneously than not, as the half-demon continues to hold his heart’s desire in his soul. For now, he had been blessed, because now he can feel the purpose, as his appreciative gaze remains resplendent, serene, and transcendent towards the ōkami . 

Hanzo Hasashi lived inside his torrent-riddled soul his entire life; how he had met his metaphorical death, never knowing what he was capable of, with his gaping mouth bruised and bloodied with absent of love and his soul beaten and mangled. As the familiar comfort of the digits exemplify their love abound even in silence, as Hanzo’s gratitude exudes from the fathomless depths of his eyes where effulgent embers swirl and scintillate, mirroring the brightest star above their heads. It’s as if such simple, mundane gesture could spill his private thoughts never shared with the world, and even his memory remains an unreliable narrator as sacrilegious sanguine pain skews it to become melancholic and bittersweet, tarnished and rotted by the cruel constructs of permanent scars painted by Tengu. 

And a realization dawns; as time between them passes and hardens, and certain memories may fade, but the memory of the heart will never prevent him from forgetting the love Ryou Sakai bestows upon him and vice versa will continue to break the heavy, burdensome weight of his prison wall, which still remains cold, biting, and unforgiving. There may still be pain in my world - the formless grief of the body - whose language had been wrath and vengeance, and perhaps it won’t ever dissipate in this life or the next, but I am nearly healed, with halcyon contentment integrated with love. And I have made so much progress, without every wound being torn open, my throat bloodied raw, and expanse of my flesh eviscerated. 

Such well-acquainted lips settle onto Hanzo’s flesh as would rose petals; filled with passion and devotion, as the stroke and warmth of Ryou’s energy continues to fibrillate beneath his skin. “I find myself becoming unbound and afloat in your immaculate love, which I used to deem undeserving. I still cannot quite fathom the reason why, but I suppose there are things in the universe that could never be explained,” they are of two transparent minds and in a self-same state; the most sincerest with their hearts and souls without deception and chicanery. As he imbibes on the ambrosial feast contouring the swell of his cheek, how Hanzo Hasashi finds himself blooming. As his hand overlaps to fold upon his beloved’s, how he finds himself genntly drowning in the infinite serenity of their untainted, unperturbable love, as his mind transports to coalesce with Ryou’s, effortlessly and naturally. “My heart remains open to you like a waterfall, it falls for you every single day... with waterfalling beats of tender affection from my chest just for you.”  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #(hanryou) #(heliac flames) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

“ i can wait a thousand lifetimes for you. “ ( any of their historical/feudal Japan verses plz cos you know I had to )

emotionally intense prompts. || @sonxflight || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Trauma permanently changed him; this is the frightening truth about betrayal and wretchedness of the world. At best, Hanzo Hasashi grieves and makes some kind of ephemeral peace with it, but a major life disruption had left a new absence of normalcy behind. There will be no going back to who he was before, for mounted grime of sorrow perpetuates, often preventing the daimyo’s intense desire to let go and fall, lest he loses all control and let the damned world hold his bare, indomitable soul. Ever since feeling the first paroxysms of grief, its aftershocks, sinking settlement of his burden would continue to weigh heavily in his body, mind, and soul. 

Should he ever trust it to ground himself without the lassitude, lack of motivation and discipline, Hanzo would always think of his biggest mistake in his life, all stemmed from giving his powers to something else, believing that the love and protection he held for not only his family, but of his clan had gone to naught when his incurable hopelessness and despair festered his once good, magnanimous heart and soul. He would remain blinded and deaf to the hum of the earth, the winds and birds, as he curled in the cavern of distrust, dancing in shadowed inferno horrified and defeated, wearing cataracts of destructive weapon that was his necrofire. 

Yet, red torrential surge of waters could never satisfy the immortal’s pain, as rivers continued to carve in flesh in a reprieve as his bleeding wound staunched, lest every beat of his aching heart struggled with the ordeal of not only his sustained survivality, but protecting those that granted the revivified will and vigor of his defiant flames burning ablaze in his heart and eyes. Hanzo Hasashi will perpetually struggle with deep darkness; hollow as the core of eternity, spinning, spinning, and spinning; all gone, all moved on, and all alone. 

He could be the last one on the trial and tribulations of life both blessed and condemned by his immortality and the dualistic nature of his fire, but having been accompanied by another in his journey of longevity and regality brings a warm, tender smile upon his solemn gravitas, forever permeated on his visage. As he would keep all that he has lost in the throes of destruction close to his broken, yet now mended kintsugi heart, and he would hold onto resplendent hope as if it had been a talisman to protect himself. His soul may feel dark like a fathomless well, emptiness with only a little feeling of hope, quiet with no sound as his soul would be forevermore lost in this abyss, but Lord Hasashi’s strength and resolve would never be get ahold by the demons hovering around him like predators encircling a prey, lest he somehow has no more fight, with his spirit broken, and his soul ready to be forever lost. 

“There often will be days, months, even years when I would feel like I plunged into the dark abyss of the lost souls; never seeing the daylight or feel again. As I succumb into the darkened abyss, my soul taken by the depths of it, but know that I will never relinquish it willingly, nor forget its proverbial existence,” even admitting such acknowledgement stemming from deep within his heart and soul is gut-wrenching enough, lest the everburning fire in his eyes burn ablaze with such resilience and strength. Defiant, broadened shoulders roll backward, as Hanzo Hasashi further straightens his already ramrod posture, with embedded gravitas and steeled hardness upon his entirety, constituting his surge of power and resolve. There is only an unadulterated truth, that ouroboros of his circling light and dark will forever toy with his subconscious. 

“Should I find myself forever entwined with the demons in my mind and descend towards corruption and immorality, you need not waste such precious time. I can bleed all the suffering, lest I empty and cleave at my fragile soul. Do not hesitate to strike me down; for I do not want to have my life’s purpose turned into a wretched game. I refuse to be controlled under a puppet strings, and I would not be able to live, knowing that I have failed all those people looked up to me for their guidance and protection.”  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ the gasp of past sealed away in resolve (immortal daimyo verse) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #(hanryou) #(heliac flames) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

“ you have no idea how much i've missed you. “ ( any of their immortal verses, perhaps??? :v )

Reuniting with an old friend prompts || @sonxflight || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Loving oneself is not an easy thing to do; some days will be better than others, while some days will be much worse. The hanyō had re-established himself as a survivor, who has cultivated some gardens with the seeds or the memories of the remains that he salvaged from his seemingly absolute destruction, but Hanzo Hasashi would never think it would be foolish nor unnecessary to dirty his feet among the ruins since he has long created an earthly paradise in an artificial enclosure that replicates the natural world, which remains ‘untouched by the hands of humanity’ if they couldn’t reach Amaterasu’s divine protection. 

The ugly, crude imperfections of his scarring may have been diminished considerably, and the half-demon will permanently wear his human face more than that of bleeding, terrorizing façade of the demon’s, but despite his weaknesses and vulnerabilities, Hanzo has somehow made himself to be always strong. His coverings are hardened and his edges are welded shut. His crusts crystallized so dense that not many could see right through him now. 

He may be self-reserved, making him appear like a mortal with a eye of the living fire, but the truth is, he is nothing, but this established, hardened rind that cannot and should not break down even when everything hurts so bad. He will continue to fight with his hard shall with the spilling magnanimous heart full of goodness. And he needs someone - a caress that will make him feel at least his malleable, cleansed core still exists. A certain someone who knows that he is better deep within the façade he may show of others. 

Brutal and vicious violence enacted in the fight ring may carry upon the impervious steel of his sweat-drenched copper flesh, reflecting the resplendent autumn’s hues and the blues and tenebrous blacks; the greatest prison that he could entomb himself in. Maybe he was born to wander, born to emptiness of the soul; feeling so heavy, so old, and so tired with the weight of a thousand centuries chained to spirit, lest he only had been a fledgling of life at a few centuries’ old offspring between a great demon and a mortal. All the rage, void, desolation, gloom, and melancholia could be distilled in his liberated choice that which he seeks doesn’t seek him back, as long as he lets them be purified, and catalytically fuel him in return; letting his burdens becoming his power, his strength, his only friend, and guiding light in Ryou Sakai’s absence. 

You will never be loved. You will never be happy. You will never, ever be good. His unwantedly fed self-hatred used to be all that made him strong, for he pain he had felt had no limits. You will always be alone. No one loves, no one cares. All that exists, is the swirling black pool, of endless void. Nothing escapes the final judgment. Nothing truly means anything. Nothing escapes the last true and final fate that ties us all together. Tengu fed on such falsified lies that all things fade in time, all things were meant to seek salvation, and all things shall always find in response: nothing. Finality of the last accounting, for everything amounts to little more than a speck of dust. You are violent at heart. You are violent at heart. You are violent at heart and you should never love. How Hanzo Hasashi keeps on pulling and plucking and ripping those damned words out, but they will never truly go away. He could immolate them down from his inside, but they will always grow back. The seeds are still there, deep underground, and there is no way to prevent that growth. 

C̦̞̦̘̜̝a͔͔̱͎̫ṇ͔̝̳ ̳̼̩̹͓͓ͅy̫̝͔̥̪͔o̗͓̫̖̲u̞ ̼̼̻̩̯̖̖f͇̙̬͖̤̱e̱̘e̦̹l͓͔̖ ̝̻͓̬i̪̖͔̱t̯̗?̦ ̬̳̲̖̪C̮̭͍̘̥̬a̭̖̦̠̯͚̝n̗̤͙̳̞’̳̬t̗͈͉̟̘̻ ̣̗y͖̜̦̟̙̭̹o̙̠̙͕͎ͅu̥͙̭͔ ̥̯̳̠fe͉̮e͍̦̘̰̗l̠̙͙͚̰ i̹̦̻̝̬ṭ̗̻̗̝ͅ ͔̪̱̘̝̖ͅd̺̳ḛ͔e͕p͖͈̤͙ ̯̦i̯̟̮̖̱͈͇n̞s͍̫iͅdͅe͇͈͓̖͇͉ ̥̱ọ͎f̤̠̦ ̘̠̦̖̪̻ỵ̲o̤̯u̥̤?͙̣̖ B̻̩u̳r̠̮̭͉̲̝n̙͖͖ͅi̪͉n̜̩͎̻͍g̟̫̼̼̖͉,̦̬̙̩ ̲ͅb͔̞̖̱̼ur̙̟ni͓̳͖n̝̺̟̖̺̲̥g̬̣̯̞,̗͚̰͓͎̤̩ ̺̬̭̠a̳̟̪̩͚n͇̫̰d̻̻̻ ̮g̫͔̦̬̫̞r̮͈̥o̻͈͕ẉ͓̙͔i̭̰̦̝n̙g̼̖̪ a̹̙̗ͅn̩͙ḓ̘͉̻ w̲̖̱r̮a̘p̯p̦͍̳̣͖͔͍i͔͈̞̳n͓̝̝g̟̦͎͕̳ͅ ͉͇a̤͙r̠͕̩o͚͔̠̖̯̱̻un͇͍͔̻̱̼d̮̙̞͚͙̲̝ y̬̪̟o͉̱͙̙̻u̼̜̳̜̝̘,̬̻̺͙ ̖͙͖̤̠̼c̤͇o̫̪ṇtr̟̪͉͚͖oḻlḭ̤̘̣n͓̦̣g̫̝͕ y͎͚̥͎o̬̰̠͓̦ṵ̗̲. ̣͍̲͈F͙̼̲͖̖o̮̤r͚̗̪͚͈ y̺̜̮o̝u ̯̝̱̳a͔̖r̙̖͈ͅͅe̻͔̭̟ ̥͉̱̘̬͉͙a ̹͕̝̘͇s͇l̞̩̣͈̬̮a̲̞̱̥̱͓͕v̤̮͎̖̮e t̮̠̬͖͙̪̜o̟̤̖̦̮̳̩ ̦͈̭̰t̞̭̗̬̖h͖̜̺̜̘̟i̫͎̣̰s̖ ̹͙̲̩͈̮h͈̬̖ͅe͎̤͍r̼̲̦͍̙̮e̟̭̟̦d͓̫̩̫͈͇i̫̙̳̙̞̭͉t͎̣̻a̻̟̗͔̰̙r̬̰͉̪̦̪̗y̟̟̲̤͉͓͇ ̱̝͚̖͉͙͙p̜a͍r͎̻̤̹̬a̰̯̥̥͓̼͕sḭ̥̹t̺̙e̖̥̳̯ ͕͓͍̮̜̠ḛn̰v̻e͚͙̻l͙̙͓͙͙o̲̜̤̝̖̻͖p̮̬i̲̺n̖̟̝g̣ ̱y̲̬o̼u̫. ̗̞̟̙Ț̜̜ạk̤̮͕̗e ̟̖̳o̠̫͔̬̯̫̝n̖͕e̥̣̜̣͎̯ ̦̝͔ͅla̳s̟̭ṱͅ ̫̣͙̲̼f̤̥̙̠̱i͉̜̹͎n̞͉̳̠̣̹ḁ̟̩̜̙̣͈l̼̮̙ ̗br̖̠̝̝̗̝͖e̺̭̩̜̪̣͉a̖̩͍th̞͇͙͓̖͕ ̤͓͈͓o̟̻f̺͚̟̩͙ ̣͙̥̥ai̭͍̼̦̭͕̤r̜̟ͅ.̭ ̭͎Y̜̗̲̦̦̗̗ou ̺w͕̟͕̼̘i̗͕̟l͓̪̬̦̭̖̹l͔̙̬͉͇̤ ̖͙n͎̫̖ev̲͈̳͍e͖ṟ̝̰ ̼l͔͙̮̯͔̹̠o̱̺̩͇̩̯v̯̖͚e͙̗ ͔̘͉̻̟a̞̰g̦͔͓a̤͉i̤͍̹͎̗̼n͉͓͍̬̝.̣̘̝͚ His body may be racked with sickness within, worn out by exhaustion; his heart smarts with pain searing like a blazing fire, but upon witnessing the bestowed splendor of the empyrean lights which Ryou Sakai emits from within and beyond, the full moon of his silvery gaze relinquishes the torments and torturous screams of his demons within, and finds the hazel honey of his sublimity. “And all faith has never been lost, for my proverbial love and goodness all begins with you,” how easily and effortlessly his lips stretch into a tender smile, lest his physical heart continues to ooze and bleed, exposing the throes of his despair. 

Hanzo Hasashi fears that when the light is shining directly out of his face, that he would be on the verge of being busted into naught under such accumulated pressure. How the winds of their love close their proximity, as his lips become loose, embodying the proverbial heat of his comforting warmth. “The world was a long bleak winter skies of ivory and gray without you present, for loneliness in the night embodied something much more sinister and biting, but I knew moments like this would come floating into my life back again, no longer to carry or usher storm, but to add color to my darkening sky.”  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #(hanryou) #(heliac flames) #(have dis word vomit) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

“When I look in your eyes, I don’t see a monster. I see someone in pain. You are not what has been done to you.” ( for half-demon Hanzo )

for those who feel like a monster … sentence starters || @sonxflight || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || By the blinding lights, the hanyō’s eyes would be thrown into impervious darkness. By the beating heart suffocated within the strenuous ebb and flow of his ribs, his ears would be forced into silence. His skull thrown beneath the onslaught of chaos, swirling arcs of blades piercing into the sky as his buoyant form would go higher, higher, higher, only for torrential flood of his crimson blood would be dripping down into crimson infinity, tainted by crimson organs thrown back in reply, as pieces of his ribcage shatter, shatter, shatter, only to be scattered as ivory bones hollow without love, turned into souvenirs of this intoxicating night where claustrophobia strangles his windpipe, while deathly throes of kijin’s torturous wrath would threaten to eradicate Hanzo Hasashi’s magnanimous humanity and morality. The depths of the call, present beyond the scope of the half-demon’s supernatural abilities, lay beneath the brittle bones. Sharp, excruciating awareness dawns deep upon the edge of his unconsciousness, lest his entirety remains disjointed in contortionistic murmur.

Hanzo Hasashi merely seeks a simple song; a lifelong goal of peace and serenity. Fearless of growing old, endeavoring to deeds that resonate with his heart and soul, along with his brain. Despite the obfuscating noxious fog that prey upon beings like him, he would endure the crackle of thunder that would cleave through him, the howling of whirling blades that dismember and scatter his being, lest the currents of his immortality would pour everything back together and reconstitute him over rivers of blood. The world may be deaf and blind to the suffering that does not result in his death. Most often, human empathy is so rigid that its reign only begins at the specific moment of the last breath. His flesh may have been macerated and mangled beyond recognition, with sprawled heaps of crimson flesh and bones with hollowed cavern of where his heart and lungs used to be. 

“Out of everything that I have lost through the time of my torment and torturous suffering... Your departure left one hell of a scar upon my soul,” no relief exists, but in short, ephemeral bursts. Ryou Sakai’s warmth may temporarily fill his bones, until the ferrous stench of his fluids clears. The drowning will continue to contort his reality and convulse his entirety, as he pleads, begs, and even barters with his ruined body, his unstable sanity. Relentless though he tries to move on and forward, so forward that he trudges onward without destination and assimilated dreams, having no idea where he is bound. “But you are correct in that even when my blood feels lifeless, pumping nothing, but only sinking exhaustion, my mind remains set and sure and my thoughts blurred, yet determined and unfettered to conquer, triumph, and annihilate the ones sitting in the hierarchical zenith.” 

The dualism of Hanzo Hasashi’s human fire and demonic inferno burns differently; it has never been the same as before. But always nostalgic for the unknown. He could be another innocent reveler that would be consumed and devoured by the giant conflagrations, but no fire has ever been the same flames, lest he destructs everything in his wake, tearing asunder both good and bad, while he could serve as the ignited bonfire manifested as compassion and kindness embodied; he would never make his vitriol anger his hope. Lest it may burn hot and clean through anything and everything in his wake. “I could only revel in the catalytic change my pain has brought forth. I refuse to become something despicable and appalling. For my body, mind, and soul will live bound by human inventions, and ultimately manifest as a human existence with a life of an immortal.” 

If he could simply become the continuation of successful persistence of human resilience, breaching even its proverbial vulnerability and mortality, then Hanzo Hasashi will never fester beneath the inescapable, putrescent darkness. In his heart of hearts, he has gained a traction; a timeless resplendent solar radiance that will reinforce and refuel his everburning embers, emanating like fathomless ocean, quieted in his tranquil heart and soul. And he accepts it as it soaks through and thoroughly in his bone. For no longer, the hanyō sinks in the abysmal sinkhole of unconquerable darkness. As Ryou’s soft lips caress his as he holds Hanzo in his arms. Oh, how gentle he feels, his skin so warm. Every bone and curve wasn’t neglected, with every touch and feel, becoming the fabric of his life as he wraps effortlessly around his body, redressing him whole.  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #(word vomit take two) #(have a lil angst) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

Trick or Treat! 🎃

Send ‘Trick or Treat!  🎃’ to my inbox and I’ll give you a treat! || @sonxflight || selectively accepting!

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Harumi and Satoshi’s death felt like an unforgivable crime, for the unforgivable grief and indignation for such unspeakable sacrilege became a sentence for life for Lord Hanzo Hasashi, a motive for pointlessly prying the bars aside, all he wanted was to just wish celestial heaven had visiting times, even in the literal and metaphorical Nether dwelling in the bone arena of his skull and ribcage.

“Karma is the beginning of knowledge. Next is patience. Patience is very important. The strong are the patient ones, patience means holding back your inclination to the seven emotions: hate, adoration, joy, anxiety, anger, grief, fear. If you don't give way to the seven, you're patient, then you'll soon understand all manner of things and be in harmony with Eternity.”

The night is so deep and unrelenting, and yet just the thought of them somehow eases him. Hanzo will let himself confide in Ryou Sakai until the daylight comes. He will make his beloved’s eyes, his own twinkling stars, and his Moon, his ephemeral smile kiss his own being in such remarkable and compelling hues. For his heart will beat to Ryou’s candor and his lungs will breathe in his beloved’s words, so magical. Hanzo will dive deep within him and float between the lullaby of the veiled tapestry of lulling waves as he quietly sings of all of his exquisite tides in him.

For he is reminded over and over again that he doesn’t have to suffer alone from the delusion that the entire universe is held in order by the categories of human thought, fearing that if Hanzo Hasashi does not hold onto them with the utmost tenacity, everything will vanish into chaos and destruction. All he has to do is to love without refrain, to fall as the rain in his own vulnerability and weakness, and all good things from here would be made whole and strong, as long as he held onto hopes and dreams like the dew of a dawn cascade. To never lose a grip of his affectivity and love, despite such incontinent trials and tribulations that continue to stir the sanguine waters of his heart. 

People may come and go; some people break his heart and someone tries to mend it. No matter how strong and capable he is at certain point, Hanzo Hasashi needs someone. At lowest point of life when everything starts to feel heavy inside, he needs someone. He often gets tested and put on the pedestal when he has nothing to give and still people refuse to leave him. The void inside his heart, the demons that perpetually threaten to usurp him whole and macerate him from inside out. Instead of his words of contempt and animosity begging to be let out, with tears running ruthlessly, wanting to run back, run back to his lost chance at love, how Hanzo wishes that he could be a semblance of the person that not only he, but every Shirai Ryu deserved to have. 

Through the oscillated life between ecstasy and agony, Hanzo Hasashi will mitigate those dichotomy extremes with necessary daily business of living. He entrusts his life to provide him of all things required. Even the carmine sky filled with ferrous tang of the slain; perhaps it will be his own blood, blurring his chatoyant glare. As he bleeds from his carotid artery, never perishing, lest encasing pain continues to unstitch his heart and bears his soul in unfettered as the unbearable gravity of living will continue to fill his world with the capacity to fill all the space that he is willing to give and bestow.  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ partaking the care of the soul (aesthetic) #✗ obsessive cathartic (headcanon) #✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ the gasp of past sealed away in resolve (immortal daimyo verse) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

they can’t sleep (new place/not used to sleeping so close) so they whisper stories to each other and intertwine their fingers + waking up so tangled in each other neither knows where they end and where they begin. both seamlessly blend into each other. ( for daimyo Hanzo, can be arranged marriage plot if you wish :^) )

only one couch — prompts || @sonxflight || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || The coming of the tenebrous, seemingly eternal night is starting to be felt even before it could be seen. The time of year and changing of the seasons will do that. As the eventide approaches rapidly, but welcoming, due to the much-needed cooler temperatures to quench the unnatural immolation of his being, as tendrils of rapid inferno swirls and licks every inch of his being. He had been an empty ocean in a deep dark empty abyss of loneliness; Lord Hasashi himself, he is made entirely of a broken pieces of his heart stitched together with a thread made of sweet pains, despair and untold truth. For his life had been entirely covered by a veil of melancholy, as engulfing waves of suffocation entraps him with nothing, but his scattered memories. Here, amidst his floating meditation, where Hanzo Hasashi floats helplessly at the bottom of the ocean. He cannot discern which way is up or down. For in this darkness, there is nothing. He is nothing. 

Must I reside here for all eternity, to keep myself a sole company? What a lonely existence this will be. Hanzo Hasashi muses, yet, I can still see the silver strands of the moon. For death makes imperfect things into divine beings, turning attentions away from the proverbial, eternal vice of my vitriol rage and towards more perfect abstractions of past painful actions as tortured extraction of uncomfortable truths of my beloved wife Harumi and son Satoshi’s gruesome murders distort all of these filtered false realities. 

How the vessel of his physicality, unnaturally tauts with a feeling of confusion and denial, and the shock of unfamiliarity striking his ribcage and the organs cradled beneath it. It feels like his loneliness becomes something he cannot quite comprehend; loneliness had long starved Lord Hasashi of his proverbial warmth and romanticism. For there is a deep loneliness sunk into his bones; locked away, feeling evermore trapped. He is in a metaphorical cage. and there's no way out. For loneliness had been his companion for so long and he has accepted it fully, as it had grown like a parasite, it has taken over his being, so much so to the point that he does not know a past or a future without it. It is infinite. unending. unforgiving. 

“For the most unimaginably long time, I wished I had someone to talk to, Someone to linger a while, someone to pause for an hour, and light up my life with a smile. I wish I had friends I could write to, or companions I could request of meeting without having the scrutiny of being weary of spies and assassins in heightened vigilance. There is nothing more lonely than silence; the silence of being alone,” even with Ryou Sakai as his consort, he doubted that this stagnant impasse of his depression would be mitigated; for Hanzo Hasashi’s world had been pouring from an empty cup for quite some time. 

When he is alone, his demons torment him, whispering words that seem to call him to go to the other side, threatening to feast on his conscience, thirst on his tears. Relish in the carnage of cleaved flesh and shattered bones in the moment of numerous deaths of his rival daimyos and those that serve them, samurai and peasant and all. Hanzo refused to be relinquished beneath the animalistic bloodthirst, for the depths of all luminaries of his human heart still resides within the tenebrous darkness. The once hollowness of his gaze brilliantly sparks, as his hips shift and careen towards that of his husband’s, as long, balmy fingers advance and boldly entwine against Ryou’s. 

“My late wife I happened to only pillow, Harumi Hasashi, used to effortlessly coax me to my most peaceful and remote states. For being in the position of power, being an heir with the legacy of great Hasashi name has given me both great burden of responsibility and stress. My will and wit weather within, so familiar minds of my wicked demons construct all these visceral and destructive notions of tyranny, which does not reverberate with the faithful essence of what I truly yearn for all of Japan.” How the unbidden truth of Hanzo Hasashi’s soliloquy unfurls like the endless reverberation of his warmth, summoned forth by his innermost yearning and wanton want. How his sultry gaze seems to rhapsodize Ryou in his fervid gaze, even when they lay in the equilibrium; the sensual brushes of their light silk kimono reflecting the assiduity in which they become all too perceptive of what one another wants in transparency. 

In the throes of sinking blissful unconsciousness as gentle exhaustion causes both to become listless, yet how their limbs melt and glide, to form their hearts carnal cage from linking together, like cradling arms of a romancing couple. The grappling of dampened flesh as the desperate duo’s dual feed the rhythm in the pendulation of wanton waves. Lips trace peaks and dips of muscles, without ever straining and manifesting semblance of discomfort, as bated breathes exhale comes when Hanzo Hasashi’s soul is claimed, and traded essences are engraved. 

Their fleshy, sensual exploration leaving them each enthroned amidst the luscious quilted bedding as the painted veneration had long sunk the daimyo in the empyrean floating of his unconscious, without the dissonant cacophony of nightmarish visions tormenting and torturing him. So he seeks the cascade of happiness, turning dark oblivion into the sunshine of dawn. An echoing silence of Ryou’s steady and strong heartbeats lull him beneath the lingering tranquility, and no longer, Hanzo Hasashi has to wither beneath the ashen suffocation of his burning, as ensued paralyzation gives its way to the hypnotic stream of his gravelled, baritone timbre. 

“If I could re-dedicate myself in the legacy of love forever deemed lost, then limitless boundaries of my pain will, without a doubt, be defeated and triumphed in no time.” ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || 

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ the gasp of past sealed away in resolve (immortal daimyo verse) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #(hanryou) #(have dis wall of text) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

‘  i  think  you  and  i  have  known  each  other  in  a  few  lifetimes . and  when  my  soul  finally saw you whole , it  kind  of  went ,  ‘ oh ,  there  you  are .  i’ve  been  looking  for  you . i’ve  adored  you a  lifetime  ago  and  it’s  nice  to  see  you  again . ‘ ’ ( for modern fire hubby )

𝐚𝐬𝐤  𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 :    𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔  𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 || @sonxflight || accepting

💥 || Today is today, tomorrow is tomorrow. Hanzo Hasashi closes his eyes and breathes with ease and utter contentment, as he reaches into the fathomless depth of his heart and soul, through his time-traveling mind. He would find today and grip it tight, land on the rich-soiled ground full of verdant life and brush off yesterday of barren, desiccated destruction and despair, full of rotten death. Breathe out tomorrow and let if drift away, as he would prefer to take the present in his arms, cradling every moment. Regardless of their changing relationships, from a barely tolerant acquaintances in the same field as field agents, as his both personal and professional doctor who would not only probe through his subconscious, but knowing every facet of his physicality, to professional confidante to ultimately the closest friend, a lover, a dear husband of many years, the rushing torrent of their development throbbed Hanzo Hasashi’s heart with raw, visceral emotions that always gravitationally pulled him enough to anchor him to reality. 

There were too many days he let himself sink in wretched distraction of his depression, giving him only damned demise. Even every happy moment could become the fluctuating flame to a wick that would gradually suffocate and die, lest Hanzo Hasashi’s burning passion and resolve remains an inextinguishable inferno. No longer, a miasma of thorns prick and poke his subconsciousness with all the excavated truths, as shadowed darkness and immorality of the past burns, as his crisp awareness and reconstructed morality directs his inner compass to the right direction, as his razor wire heartstrings will smooth and shine, without inflamed fateful point of view as the clouding, vicious haze of vengeance and retribution mellow and cleanse once-stained chambers of a sinful heart, breaching the kaleidoscope of jagged jadedness, and construct the silk road of his journey towards healing. 

He would walk the thin line between here and there, walking the wire and brittled thread of his heartstrings. Whether he finds blissful contentment and happiness, or discomfort and agony, the dull stinging ache of his heart and lungs will persist, as the memories of his trauma reel and the flesh makes way like an obedient sea in the throes of his nightmares. That someone who could salvage him from the wreckage of his destruction, both self and the others unwillingly have been involved in being bound in his despair. “I used to be so fucking afraid to fall in love; maybe I was just afraid of falling for the wrong person, and further disappointing myself that I could never love again like I used to,” a melancholic smile becomes a fleeting thing, as his heart begins to sing the sweet melodies as Ryou’s soft gazing, the shaping of his happy mouth blossoms radiant warmth and basks over his being. “You already know that you’re the best fucking thing that’s walked into my life in a long time.” 

In the most creative act he has partaken, in order to undertake the act of recreating himself, had he come across Ryou Sakai in a way that he did; a professional connection reminiscing him about once butterfly wing of his fluttering and flitting heartbeat, winding its way through the air. Perhaps their music was meant to be a constant; a heartbeat, a pulse of life. For his life’s breath could not have regained halcyon purity and radiant light if he hadn’t been swallowed by the soil and sanguine squelch of his self-destruction and the cranial penetration of his past’s atoms betraying the crude cleaving of his ripped flesh and bones. The blades that used to suffocate and drown him in the throes of sinking death and decay, in return, helped Hanzo Hasashi to come to a realization that he will harbor and diffuse his proverbial impassioned flames and warmth, a two sides of one coin. 

“If it weren’t for your love, my entirety would have been stripped away; flesh, muscles, organs, one by one. I will not be anything more than bones and rage. Less than a resplendent ray of sunlight on the field of war-torn, blood-soaked Earth.” Even the steep hills and jagged mountains of his trials and tribulations could be conquered and claimed wholly as Hanzo Hasashi’s own. With the thunderstrike as his heartbeat, how his smile becomes the soft, silky lighting that would bask and coalesce them whole. For Ryou Sakai always has been a remedy, a string of song pulled in the most gorgeous manner, soothing the burns that vicious darkness has left on his heart. How his beloved’s breath silences the pain he thought it would never heal. Instead of swaying him into the unknown hides of his dangerous mind, the world will coerce him to think, to feel, as the whispers of his soul shrouds him in light, instead of nocturnal melancholy drifting him into a different dimension, a terrifying one.  💥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ ugly syllables of conjured vindictive crimson (modern au) #✗ undaunted intensity of solar flare (old guard au) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

“  you’re not alone.  ” (for half-demon boi)

you know the vibes || @sonxflight || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Torrential rain must be appreciated; it is a gift from the heavens. It is beautiful, and it puts Hanzo into a mood of contemplation, rumination, and introspection. The half-demon never saw it as a nuisance, for it is nourishing, cleansing waters that quench his thirst, as the descending transparent jewels scatter, caress, and trail down the length of the wiry, compacted, and lean swell of his musculature. No longer, Hanzo Hasashi lays in fields of purple, bruised and decayed, writhing beneath the whipped torn flesh and sanguine squelch of his being. Once, he thought of never setting a foot outside the Tengu’s confinement, as the resplendent sun of his light drowned beneath the searing tenebrous black of his demonic madness, as the storm of self-consciousness grates to lock himself in the perpetuated saddest hours of his long life. The moon remains bold and round, silver-rusted in blue, reflected melancholy somber against his stilled orbs. 

The meadow spread wide beneath and beyond him, with its scented waving eases the perpetual disquietude of the half-demon’s maelstrom conscious, as the thirsty-heart of his being draws the okami with a desperate, yet tender tug. Pain transcends through Hanzo Hasashi’s body in familiar bursting sensation, like an angry hurricane. A black hideous mark on his head growing iridescent red over the sun-roughened expanse of his olive skin. A trace of recurring agony manifested and permeated, left permanently to remind him that he will continue to fall, sprawl, and collapse in order to get back up again. Falling to the floor. A thud to his sides. A soft cry of hurt and laughter would echo the cavern of his mouth. A swollen limb and ribs always marking the end of every day. Sleeping on a dampened dirt would ease the pain, along with the comforting embrace of the halcyon radiant sun, emanated from Ryou Sakai’s flame of love. 

Beneath the contrasting tepid cold and bone-seeping magnanimous warmth, does Hanzo Hasashi relish in the rose-tinted view of his effulgent love, and all these sweeping pain, tears, and aches dissipate as the shining immaculate chatoyant gaze lingers upon the dawning radiance of his beloved’s eyes. “Your featherlight touch of waves carry me gently, as the constellations of stars pull me closer to light than darkness. Even amidst the withering exhaustion and relinquishment, I find myself yearning for the evening as I often fall for the sunset warmth you bestow upon me,” as he drifts upon the soul clouds shared between them, the taut iron chain of his being unfurls to give into the mantras of their shared breaths, as Hanzo surges forward rattle passionate desire to bathe him whole. 

His kiss is raw, wanton, and deliberately intense; rising in a stiff sweetness as the hardened steel of his form unfurls. Hanzo Hasashi’s mind and soul may never achieve pure unadulterated peace, but beneath the aureate embers of their shared passion, what was once an enigmatic impossibility eases his phlegm, harsh crudeness into a mellowed mirthful smile as the peppered pecks continue to revel the slick wetness of Ryou’s pulse.  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ fifty shades of kombat (nsfw) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

❛   one  look  at  you   &   my  heart  leapt   &   now  you’re  stuck  in  my  head  again.   ❜ (for fire hubby, any verse plz)

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘. || @sonxflight || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Hanzo Hasashi thinks part of the reasons why he holds onto something so tightly is because he fears something as great won’t happen twice. All he recalls from the faded snapshots of his past is glacier cold; all he used to feel was cold. Cold in his body, cold in his bones, cold in his soul. He would find himself sinking in the throes of being lost in a din obsession of death he could not fully achieve. even as the desecrated shrine of his human heart continued to chip and erode beneath the treacherous currents which continued to lap at his crumbled unconscious would unravel, as it would dark, rich molasses of his ferrous sanguine and ichor. The half-demon didn’t know how he could keep going through this cold; it’s paradoxically refreshing, in its life-stealing thrall. It’s nature’s power crashing over him like a torrential wave crashing over a rock. For he will always be with the person he knows he has to be, to become one with the music of it all. A cacophony more beautiful than anything that can be quantified. 

He finds himself standing upon a distant shore, listening to waves crash, ebbing and flowing, a gentle tide until he is awashed in golden light. The dawning of another day, ripe for his mind to experience inspiration and for his heart’s yearning to be understood, to at last be achieved. Granted in the wash of that golden light. Hanzo still recalls the dormant volcano, ready and waiting to set magmatic fire ablaze, immolating him from within, as fevered trigger of his demonic flare unleashing its ruthless potential in a wicked, wretched array of potent energy, decorating the night sky with its subliminal act before it fizzled out, threatening to take along his conscious with him, forever. 

Ryou Sakai’s words exhilarate him; stirring something deep within. The half-demon is tired of having his heart broken of suffering the consequences he himself did not create, not being able to breathe and live fully in a desperate attempt to bury two seeds in the depths of his lungs - proverbial humanity and resplendence of his magnanimous hellfire washing away all the pain of the centuries’ agony and torment. His arteries had long become roots, the roots became his new foundation in which stemmed the blossoming petals inaugurating his skin. A new version of him that becomes evermore perceptive and cognizant of the understanding in which his own near-exsanguination was just an even to grow and be free. 

His existence may constitute as a contradiction, but Hanzo Hasashi always has been grand and larger than life, for he contains multitudes and complexities he is still trying to comprehend. Regardless of the visceral, unfettered in brutal raw honesty of his emotions, sentiments, and vulnerabilities, all the labyrinthine rhymes and verses of his life unfurling in silent reverence. No longer, obfuscating, impenetrable fog hangs above his muddled head in the bend of river’s mighty arm as he would be threatened to be faded away, as he dreamed of tangibility and of substance without lamentations of the past which had been long-since erased. They are never forgotten, but no longer they toss him heavily with such increasing intensity, as the canopy of hope and fueled strength fights the urge to disintegrate himself. How he becomes blissfully tranced, seated at the edge of reality, looking through the lens of a dream turned a steeled reality; hazy, but oversaturated with the splendor of light that emanate from his beloved. Fog and mist in the air, catching his breath, hot as it leaves, but frozen in moments, solidifying and dropping to the ground. 

“I suppose sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple in regards to our love. The once-subtle emanation of my thoughts that used to swirl me, the swelling tide of my discord, as the pendulum swung from night to daylight of my own restless heart. You know very well I could never be the still water in the ocean, but a raging pulse of the rebounding sea booming with defiance and resistance. My emotions are loud and urgent - and it is your undying love that calms and quells everything to pass.” 

For Hanzo Hasashi’s love is the cathedral of fine-drawn emotions that could weave in and out of his faults and strengths, weaknesses and passions, flaws and betterments, etc. The scintillating light of his mirthful radiance effulgently makes its presence, effortlessly encapsulating his expression as a tantalizing stroke places upon Ryou’s upper thigh as he comfortably leans. “I have known, ever since I came across you - I did not have to justify, defend, or explain myself, that I can move forward in my life with utmost confidence as both rational and emotional regulation have worked to perfect my growth and improvement. I will be forever proud of what I have become, for darkness have long faded beneath the splendor of the blossoming light.” ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #(hanryou) #(relationships; samurai jack) #(I have not forgotten this lovely verse) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

@sonxflight​​ stabbed the heart (for daimyo Hanzo). 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Breeze turns into wind, rusty leaves of all kinds swirl in it, each in their own whirling dance. Roses turn to rosehips and the skies turn gray. The dying nature, yet the once effulgent colors warmer than the brightest summer day. Hanzo Hasashi revels in the chill, as the perspiring warmth of his being challenges the blazing light of the shining sun in the basking moonlight amidst his nakedness. He revels in the midst and fog, in a drizzle and a storm. He now revels in the candlelight, forest grooves and graveyard paths. The paradox of manifested change, in this unknown as the approaching fall glides along the bones of summer’s carcass, heading straight for a vengeful winter. 

Hanzo Hasashi hopes the cold is unforgiving this year; he hopes it creeps into the little warmth he has left and sends his body into passionate spasm, licking over his spine. He hopes his jaw clenches in agony, forcing his mind to escape into a distant realm of shade and heatwaves, while exhaustive spell of his physical exertion bends his form over, strong shoulders lurching forward, his arms extended and anchored atop his upper thighs. Plunging and submerging into the cooled ripple of deep lake mitigates his suffering; the familiar suffering, warm and frightening across his skin and bones. Often, the perceptive depths of Ryou Sakai’s eyes bearing upon his being; the healing he is undergoing shall unearth, those lignite-colored eyes previously turned to match the resplendent hues of Hanzo Hasashi’s own, as he basked in the immortal’s light. 

He has long dreamt of his body crashing into the earth; ground spluttering blood, as his mind would slowly fade away from existence, waning gradually by strings and strands. He is no longer tired of loneliness, nor he misses the comforting security. The loud screams echo endlessly in his skull, tears flooding him until he drowns, body shaking and arching, mind frozen in a bewildering fog. As his gaze ascends, and he thinks of the inevitable call of the inescapable abyss, tugging his ankles as his silent struggle would muffle the desperate attempts of him breaking through the water’s surface. When he was just about to sink and sprawl without any reserve strength, Ryou Sakai’s saving grace had both helped him to rest in respite, and save him from the literal and metaphorical downward spiral, the sickness of his heart nadir. 

As he re-familiarizes his erect verticality, the daimyo tightens the sweet moment of his emanating warmth enveloping around Ryou’s and beyond. The entirety of him interlacing with that of Ryou Sakai’s. Being cradled by the warm hearthfire of his being, he knows that their ever-developing, profound love will hold true, withstand even the testament of time. It matters not whether it becomes the paradigm of contentment. “You would not mind in sharing the weight rather than me having to bear the weight alone, as I heal the parts of me that grows exacerbating weary of unwanted burden?” 

No longer, his days are filled with black sunlight, scorching onslaught of ash and dust as Hanzo Hasashi’s sky had grown insufferably gray. But it will never rain. The trees stretched out as if they were reaching, their roots spreading, searching for anyone underground. However the means were, someone had responded; before the world could crumble asunder and rain down upon his face, tearing down his flesh. 

“With all the finer details of remnants that I have been living inside my soul now chants from my lips.” Enchanted act of care and tenderness caresses over the trunk of Ryou’s neck, reaching towards the swell of his cheeks, while his hard and chiseled front presses against Ryou’s own nakedness. “I have felt my heart floating on your lips as soft sigh kissing a deep moan while my naked soul yearns to sink and hide itself between your arms.” A mumbled, intoxicated whisper permeates against Ryou’s earlobe, as his exploratory hand pushes away the kimono. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||  

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ the gasp of past sealed away in resolve (immortal daimyo verse) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ fifty shades of kombat (nsfw) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #(he who has no qualms) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

My Fate is My Own || Hanzo Hasashi x Ships

Is our path laid out before us,

or is it something that we choose? Are we guaranteed a victory, is success just ours to lose? How much free will do we have, if any after all, it seems when things are on the up, that is when we fall. Is that the way its meant to be? A life of ups and downs, ever shifting waters, in which we're doomed to drown? Or do the choices that we make, determine how life goes? I'd like to think this is the case, but who amongst us knows?

Fate vs Free Will - A. Thomas Hawkins

[ Dedicated to @sonxflight, @bastardsunlight, @yetremains, @drecmcrcfters, @somniaxperdita, @hanakarii​, etc. ]

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || The world works in mysterious ways; for there are inscrutable and obvious signs and messages everywhere. Did I ever ache, for a time that never existed? And is there, a hole in my chest, telling me I cannot go home? All I have to do is just to look hard enough to really see what's right there in front of me. What's been there all along, what all of the roads I have taken have lead me to sometimes where the stars would align in such a way that they almost make a bridge connecting one soul to another and even if I veer off course, the destination would somehow be set in stone. 

How they become my destination; you and I. For we are not running in parallel lines, but a connected line running in tandem. We are intertwined, and thus are the product of the universe trying so damn hard to make something beautiful and real happen. How you warm me up with just one touch, your aroma absolutely stimulating, eradicating my worries and burden and heartache at once. Without you - I am not at peace, but forever bound in memories of guilt and despair and irreversible finality of death. And you rouse me up with your taste, and puts colors in my darkest of days. 

You make my heart beat faster, and make my mind work sharper. You are the only thing I need to fight the day’s battles ahead. The life I used to know may long have been forfeited. Life has been turned to a golden dream, and all the treasures of the world laying at my feet, lest it’s drained hope points a finger. In the complexity of life, I have remained gentle, tender-hearted, and devoted to those I love. It’s because of you I harbor quiet acceptance of a hard-working life, without shards of reds and violets threaded on my stomach, excruciating needles of pain in my eyes and accumulated scars on my flesh.

I never really knew how to talk in a velvety voice, or hold flowers in my hands without crushing them in the process, lest the love once I have known brings me nightmares with me crying, as Harumi’s presence becomes a pounding heart in the stillness. I can still feel you among a sea of people - as I become the norm, while accepting the sinned components of my being. 

And there is a fate worse than death - and it’s living to hear eulogies for the person I could have been. I love and live, because you exist. Some days, I may breathe ember, for I am not the same man anymore. In every sense of the words unspoken emanating empyrean bliss and rapture. For my heart is wild and is equipped with the unconditional thirst of the soul; like the small fire which trembles in the wind, only to collect itself, and offer itself, once more. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ obsessive cathartic (headcanon) #✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii) #✗ ugly syllables of conjured vindictive crimson (modern au) #✗ the castigating flames of salt and skin and blood (ronin verse) #✗ undaunted intensity of solar flare (old guard au) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #(general ship aesthetics tag)

[sasorikigai]

@sonxflight​ stabbed the heart. 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || He has long become dead to the world, with which he wasted too much time. So long hearing nothing from the half-demon would mean that he was dead to the world; dead to the world-strife, alone in the stillness, save for his surging firestorm fibrillating beneath his skin and his dissatisfied heart. Hanzo Hasashi feels as though he is stuck, as if he has made himself his biggest roadblock in life, instead of being the circumstances surrounding him. Was he meant to be the one of the chained, held down by heavy iron reins? Constrained by his own lofty ideals? Hanzo Hasashi’s less-sane traditions have defied his bleeding soul; from the rigidity and motionlessness and being out of control, no longer in his deliverance, a beat to the world’s natural flow. How everything feels empty tonight; his heart, the brittle constellations above his head as the susurrus rustle of the forest becomes the canopied roof over his head once again, along with the entwined arm around his broad shoulders. “I have been wondering, if fears ever really go away, or if they just lose their power over us.” His chatoyant amber eyes become burning wicks, weeping waxen drops as flames. Moments like this greatly ameliorates his exhaustion and persistent ache, as his breath tickles into Ryou’s collar as he shifts to careen his hips. “And sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there is no room for the present at all.”  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight) #sonxflight

[sasorikigai]

From this Instagram (x), Ghost of Tsushima x Vagabond Crossover.  

Just imagine Jin Sakai and half-demon Hanzo Hasashi together. 

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ guiding wind on my back (jin sakai) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse)

[sasorikigai]

Half-Demon Hanzo and MK11 Fujin made with this.

Tagging: @sonxflight, @yetremains, @drecmcrcfters (Marzena and Uilleam) 

#✗ obsessive cathartic (headcanon) #✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ unwavering wind of celestial might (fujin) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #✗ be calm before the storm (mk11)

[sasorikigai]

@sonxflight​ stabbed the heart (🔥)

[ The letter itself is severely crumpled, some places even intelligible, smeared with blood and dirt. ]

Beloved Ryou, 

How could something or someone feel like a tangible dream, like you do, and the precious moments we have shared? The need to be with you, becomes undeniably and excruciatingly true in the throes of my familiar suffering. Who would have thought I will be blissful with just you sitting next to me? But this space between us, feels immeasurable, like universes apart. Can’t get close enough. Will I ever hear your heart once again? All those memories and breaths we have shared, all of it were ours the whole time, and yet, my deadened heart refuses to break this comfortable silence. Despite to hear you is what I want the most, but such circumstances separating us will always get in the way of our coalescence. 

They say, time flies, but with you, it slows; for you break my deafening silence and the cacophony of my dualism persistently fighting for the dominance of my body, mind, and soul. Even as my flesh cleaves, weeps crimson all the same, as the scarred carapace hardens and I endure another day of grueling fighting with gentle muscle exhaustion,  Paths have been collided and merged, and yet, I pray to damned God and Amaterasu or whoever one should pray to that I will harbor enough strength and will never cave in. Regardless, I will find you somehow - in the swaying trees outside my cot, or in the falling glistening tears that would never descend, and finding concept of absent you in a nest among the houses lining the periphery of the battling pit. 

I have watched the stars merge in scintillation tonight, and I secretly hoped so should we, as I would find purchase as to materialized sweven come to realization even in my ephemeral dreams. I just hope when the time comes to seek your love, I will feel nothing, but your absence as I sew my heart, head, and hand all empty. Then I only would find you in dejection. I will also find you in equal, perhaps exacerbated pain and in misery. And at the end of it all... I would regret to have found you at all, thus perhaps it is best that we part our ways, Ryou, for I will always, always be hunted no matter where I end up, who I end up with, and what I become. 

Hanzo Hasashi. 

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ everlasting embers gone wild (half-demon verse) #(relationships; samurai jack) #(have dis angst) #sonxflight