#muddsludge: hisoka

[hunting-songs]

Campfire Stories! Hisoka♦️

Send me “Campfire Stories” and my muse will tell yours about a scary tale, folk story, or even one of their own spooky experiences.

"Mhmmmmm, what is that? You think I could ever tell a story that could scare a person like you who had dismembered himself before audience and had fun in it? I am deeply flattered you think of my storyteller -skills so highly, really, I do not deserve that kind of praise. What did I do to deserve you having such a high opinion of me?" Laughing in all good humor Senritsu lay a small hand on her chest a little too dramatically to be truthful. Hat put on the table before her, vest buttoned open, her blousesleeves hitched up and her round face turned to the side towards the warmth of the still surprisingly hot autumneveninglight, Senritsu could almost be seen as relaxed and content, if it would not have been clear that she was still attentive listening, listening, listening. Her short fingers tapped a melody against the side of her teacup- hasty, nimbly, fast; the heartbeat of someone beeing hunted. Or someone beeing watched. Like she felt watched by Hisoka.

The cafés outdoor area was bathed in the warm eveninglight and drowned in the permanent murmur of the city street washing around it, yet, if Senritsu focused, if she really would be stupid enough to not keep her attention on Hisoka, she could hear the gurgling of a small stream sepperating the city from a overgrown small park at the other side of the street, tickling lively like violine music around her ears.

"But I can try, if it makes you happy", Senritsu hummed friendly, although she still attentive listened, listened, listened. What exactly was he trying to do?, she wondered with her head tilted to the side like a curious bird, Flatter her? No, that was not it. Thinking he could find out something about her ove rthe story she would tell? Or did he really just wanted to hear a simple story? Making fun of her, considering she it had been one of those scary storys that had ended the life she had had build for herself before the curse?: " Once upon a time there was a little boy. He was a sweet child but as much as he was sweet, he was talented: He had been blessed with a keen hearing and a great talent for music. Any second of his life he would devote to this craft of his.And no - " Senritsu just shaked her head laughing:

"That boy is not a stand-in for me, it is just a story." The laughter stopped. Senritsu never liked listening to liars:" But back to the story- the boy would not care about anything else in his life but his music. And so he did not noticed that the world around him changed. He was so focused on his music, that he did not noticed that the neigbours cats and dogs disappeared. He was so focused on his muisc, that he did not noticed the adults worried and tensed faces. He was so focused on his music that he did not noticed the old people sitting on their porches day in and out disappearing. He was so focused on his music that he did not noiced how his parents would lock the door to the house in the night. He was so focused on his music, that he did not noticed that the laughter from the other villagechildren nolonger filled the streets. One night, he did noticed something. The only thing he could ever notice. The only thing that he could ever hear. He heard a song so sweet, so much sweeter than what he had ever heard before, from outside his room from the near river. And in the same moment he knew that he had to learn this song. So he left his save bed and climbed out of the window, leaving the house his scared parents had made so sure to lock up for the night. His path lead him through streets that were empty, only noticing now that people nolonger dared to go outside at night. The song lead him along the graveyard that had fresh graves, which he had not noticed had been digged and filled. And eventually the song lured him to the river near his village. There, in the middle of the river sat a longhaired, beautiful young man who played violine. And once again the boy had only ears for the music, so he did not saw the horse-like ears of the man, nor the webbing between his fingers and toes, not the blood smeared over his sharp teeth, and espeially not the hunger in the Nokkens eyes after the villagers had wisely locked their doors to prevent anyone from beeing lured to the Nokkens river at night when songs could travel so much farer than on the day. But the Nokken was hungry and the boy was even more hungry or learning the beautiful song, that he climbed into the river and let the Nokken teach him that beautiful song the whole night. And in the morning the Nokken gave the boy the violine, patiently waiting.

Patiently waiting for the boy to return to his village. Patiently waiting for the boy to stand on the villages marketplace. Patiently waiting for the oh so eager boy to play the beautiful song he had just learned. And as soon as he played the song anyone had to listen. And anyone had to dance. But it was not a joyful dance, and when the boy was first happy that he could show his talent and art, he soon noticed that he could not stop playing the song. And the people listening to the song could not stop dancing to it. Skin was peeled off feet until people were dancing on naked bones and the marketplace was drenched in their blood. Days passed full of screams that wer enot loud enough to overtune the beautiful song. But even when the villagers fell over their shatterd feet, they could not stop dancing and helplessly rolled in their own blood. Days passed and by now noone in the village was alive anymore, but the boy who eventually stopped playing the song after the violine slipped out of his hands that had been after days of beeing unable to stop playing had the skin hung off the flesh in bloody scraps. Only than the Nokken came out of the river and collected the bodies of the villagers who had hid from him so carefully . That evening the Nokken had a great meal. And then the boy was left alone. Alone with the dead and his off skin and muscles peeled hands." She thought about those skinned hands, smooth to the touch and as fragile as thin branches she needed to hold carefully. She thought about those skinned hands, always aching, especially in the cold. She thought about those skinned hands, happily tapping on the table after the melody of her flutepiece, now almost painless from the vibration her songs had left in the air . She thought about those skinned hands eagerlyand nimbly learning to play the flute again after the vibration of her songs had soothed the ache. She thought about those skinned hands, twisted like rotten branches that had fallen off the table and had been hanging out from under the shroud in the horrible bright, horrible pale light in the hospitals morgue that had made it impossible for her to look away until the image had burned into her mind like a curse.

In the much too warm eveninglight Hisoka was still sitting on the other side of the table and she heard his heartmelody a little too close to her liking.

"....Anyway, that was the story," In fact Senritsu noticed that she really did not liked that his heartbeat sounded like that from a cat that had just caught a bird in their paws. Sighing quietly she leaned back in her chair, humming sweetly and unbothered even if she was also attentive listening, listening, listening : "I told you that I could not scare you. So how about you recommend me now something from the menu before I start telling you horrible boring stories about cursed musicpieces, mhmmmmmm? I do not want you to get bored, after all."

[ @muddsludge ]

#v: es saß ein klein wild vöglein #muddsludge: hisoka #muddsludge #was shortly thinking about writing Pape Dönes tale (senritsus last name giver) but that story already on the blog #so its a Nokken story #senritsu dropping sidecharacter lore lol

[withgutsandglory]

muddsludge asked: ❝ some promises are made to be broken. ❞  Hisoka at Ging

  “Uh-huh.”  he seems none too fazed by the guy, despite his whimsical appearance.  “You know... some people would argue their ‘word’ `s the only thing they’ve got in this world.”  he pauses a beat. “and their balls.”  he shrugs, barely even raising his gaze to look at him.  

// @muddsludge​

#honestly bc its you im shitposting idec #interactions: ging freecss #muddsludge

[hunting-songs]

Car accident  - some form of on-road collision between the two muses ((LOL Hisoka can't drive, who let him behind a wheel???)

The air outside of the rastaurant was cold, icy even, and washed into Senritsus face like a splash of fresh springwater. It washed away the headache the noises from back in the restaurant had hammered ( like the silverware clanking on plates); hammered (like the hasty footsteps of all the waiters and the kitchenstaff); hammered( like the much too loud voices of much too many people pushed together in one room); into her skull. It was an early evening. The streets were bathed in the reddish light of dawn and the sidewalks were pouring over from an ocean of people. "Well, than I will see you in December, Miss Döne.", the head of the artmuseum sounded as if he had just won in the lottery, which in some way he had. The 100-year old violine she was hired to restaurate at the start of the winter would lure in a lot of more visitors like the pied pipers song had lured in mice. Senritsu smiled at her client politely and wished him a good evening, told him that she looked forward to work on the violine and promised that she can´t wait to start her work. She did not told him that she was happy to be outside of the restaurant, she did not told him that she could not wait for him to leave because every other sound made her head hurt even more, she did not told him that all she wanted after a whole evening in a restaurant was to stuff her ears with wax, lay down and gasp for air as if she had been drowning in the noise. Instead she only said her goodbye kindly, and made her way over the restaurants parking area to have a few more breaths of this cool, fresh air. Still, hearing the little happy hop in her clients walk as he went down the street to disappear in the crowd made the woman smile. It was a tiered smile, but it was there. The musician breathed deeply as she loosened the broad velvethairband she had used cover her balding head and fix her hair into a braid; she breathed deeply as she hobbled around on one leg each to pull off her high-heeled shoes, clip their clasps together and throw the shoes over her shoulder to walk on socks; and she breathed deeply when she heard the car. The car that drove much to fast over the parking area. The car that was not curbing or slowing down.

In the blink of an eye the woman had sprinted back over the whole lenght of the parking area. But the car did still not slow down. Pain stitched into her feet when the concrete bored through her nylon-tights into her soles. But the car did still not slow down.

Her shoes flew over the parking lot, long forgotten, not even noticed.But the car did still not slow down.

There was the wall of the restaurant in her back, the cars lights in her eyes and-

-the cars brakes hit with such a shrill sound Senritsu felt as if she had turned, just for a moment, truely deaf. Standing with her back pressed against the wall and only a handwide between her chest and the cars bumper, Senritsu,gasping panicky for air, decided for herself that she really had breathed enough of that fresh, cool air for the day. And the whole night. And also the next day. From one second to another the noises of the city around her returned and the migraine Senritsu had hoped was gone returned in full strenght. And along those noises she heard the drivers uncomfortable familiar heartmelody. A few seconds passed in which Senritsu was standing still against the wall, eyes as round as plates and only slowly noticing that in her sprint over the parking area she had ripped her nylon tights and her bare toes turned very cold against the icyness of the concrete. "I could almost think-", the Music-Hunter said slowly and tilted her head to the side like a confused bird as she tried to fit the mental image of Hisoka to the man in the suit she saw in the driverseat : "-you wanted to drive me over." Listening, listening, listening attentive, like an animal ready to jump away at any little glimpse of danger, Senritsu slowly moved along the wall and around the car. Yet as soon as she reached the drivers door her before hectic voice had turned into the usual soft humm. The Music-Hunter leaned her shoulder against the carside in a long, relieved huff that sounded as melodic as a song: "What did I do to deserve this target-oriented parkingstyle, mhmmmmmmmm?" [ @muddsludge ]

#v: es saß ein klein wild vöglein #muddsludge: hisoka #muddsludge #properly dolled up senritsu meeting Hisoka in a suit? you know when you meet a person n formal attire and think 'WHOTHEFUCKAREYOU'. #yep

[hunting-songs]

🍻hisoka

Send "🍻"  for the receiver to take care of an intoxicated sender!

It was already past midnight when Senritsu finally left the Museum, she was at the moment hired to work at. The buidling was quiet, sleeping like a lazy cat in the yellow streetlights around it with darkned, empty windows, silent black corridors, and the only noises coming from the muffled laughing and disorted music from the little festival a few streets away. It were this muffled laughters and disorted music that lured Senritsu out of the atelier like the pied pipers song had lured out the rats out of every corner of Hameln. She did in some way felt a little like a rat after she had spend the last two weeks in that atelier, renewing the by termites corroded wood of an violine whichs red coloured wood she had yet to free of the layers of scarlet paint so she could finally start to replace and seal the new parts properly. Yet the moment she was in the museums lobby where the blackness was so thick it seemed to weight down on her like a heavy cloak, there was something else mixing into the melody of the streets away festival. A worried line appeared as deep as a scar between the womans big eyes- this was not the first drunk she had encountered and definitive not the drunkest, yet the difference was that she knew this heartmelody, disorted and tiered, but yet also very familiar. In the blink of an eye Senritsu had crossed the lobby and locked the museums door behind her, following the new melody to one of the alleys surrounding the art-museum.Accordingly she was not suprised finding Hisoka where she knew he would be and she was also not suprised to see him in the state she had heard about himbeeing in already in the museums lobby. "Now this is a picture I did not thought I would ever see. Never thought you could get drunk.", Nimbly, thoughtfully Senritsu tapped her fingers against her chin in a quiet melody. Her voice was gently and every words was drenched with her aura until they spilled over with the calming, painkilling and refreshing sensation her Hatsu left people feel. The laughter and music from the streetfestival was now nothing but a distant echo, barely noticeable. "Mhmmmmm, don´t get me wrong, of course I could imagine you drunk- drunk of power, yes. Drunk of pain, also yes. Drunk of ecstasy, yes, sure. But drunk of alcohol? Never expected that to see.", The Musician blinked, laughing and shaking her head at herself scoldingly for philosophizing when there was someone who might needed her help: "Anyway-" Her small hand was warm when she reached for Hisokas arm: "Are you alright, Hisoka? Do you have a place to sober up at? If you don´t, you are welcome to come with me." Senritsu had her head tilted to the side as always when she was listening attentive and this time she listened for the others breathing- listening for a sudden hitch as a warning that the other might fall to the side, listening to a sped up of the breathing showing her that he might turn sick, listening for a wheez to comfort him in time if he felt nauseous. And the whole time, sound by sound, word by word, her aura oozed into her sentences- soothing, healing, painkilling. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw dandelions bloom over the asphalt of the street. " I have been given a room and a very comfortable couch for my stay, so you are welcome to be my guest. And I even might be able to hold you up if you lean on me, but you have definitive too long legs for me to carry you. I sure would try, though. But I doubt that will be in any way dolcissimo or gioioso for any of us involved. " [ @muddsludge ]

#muddsludge #muddsludge: hisoka #v: es saß ein klein wild vöglein

[hunting-songs]

@muddsludge started following You ! The Heavens Arena was louder than Senritsu remembered. Which meant a lot for the last tiem she had visited the Heavens Arna was before she had been cursed and even at that time the cheering of the publicum had been so loud that she had to stuff her ears with wax and still ahd headaches for the rest of the day after watching the fights. One of the people who had passed the Hunter-Exam with her almost a decade ago lived in the town by the Heavens Arena and she wanted to meet and catch up with him as soon as he finished the lessons for his pupil at this day, so for now she was sitting between the publicum by the arena and let the much too loud noises wash over her until she was swayed in the permanent waves of sounds that mixed togetehr into a undistinctable white noise like in the waves of an rushing ocean. Until another melody mixed into this deafening orchestra. A melody that made Senritsu sat up straight promptly. A melody that made a line as deep as a scar appear between her big eyes. She thought of a certaine melody, not the melody of the heartbeat of that man, but the melody of someone else that she had heard just for a few moments: Pakunodas Heartbeat. Pakunodas Heartbeat the second Hisoka had joined them by the canyons and shrill melody of anger, suprise, confusion and fear that had been the Spiders heartbeat for that moment. Pakunodas Hartbeat that had made Senritsu feel compassion for her not for the first time in that night. The woman opned an eye to look placidly at the seat beside her and without wanting to she started to tilt her head from one side to the other like an indecisive bird: "Wouldn´t you be more happy down in the arena-" , a short finger that used to look very different, pointed down to the arena to the fighters: "-instead of giving me company, mhmmmm?" Eventually she stopped and only tapped her fingers against her chin in a fickle melody. She was not nervouse, she noticed. She was not scared, she noticed. She was not tensed, she noticed. But she was- Senritsu frowned, her fingers rising in tempo in the taped melody- uncharacteristically reserved? : "Don´t get me wrong, I have nothing against company-but I am also very aware of the very old and very boring person I am, so by all means, I am worried for your enjoyment of the situation." And the echo of shock, anger and absolute terror when Pakunoda had seen Hisoka at that moment was still stuck in her mind.

#hello dear! welcome to the blog :D #muddsludge

[hunting-songs]

To whoms Muse is Senritsu the most attracted to?

Sexual Sunday: Ask my muse questions about their relationships or sex lives! Senritsu is ridiculously physically attracted to @muddsludge s Hisoka. She is in general attracted to muscular, big men (same with women) , but above anything else Senritsu is a artist and she loves watching a preformance. Especially preformances going after gender stereotypes and norms, and Hisoka, who might be physically a very big, muscular man is just so amazingly playing with gender stereotypes (Highheels, feminine poses, and the usage of softer, feminine pronouns in japanese) that he is a beautiful spectacle in her eyes. So she is just happily and in utter awe enjoying the beauty of the show in that manner. In the same manner,everything else about Hisoka- his personality indulging restrainless in his passions that are hitting a little too close to home for Senritsu, his lack of care for anyone but himself and his obvious disregard for life in general; are the most disgusting for Senritsu to witness. However, including the former points- for someone whos job-description includes "I will yeet myself faceforward into the sun if that means getting even an inch nearer to what I am hunting for" Senritsu also has a suprisingly well working survival-instinct (suprisingly well-working for a Hunter, that is. Which is still not very much.) , so while she finds Hisoka very beautiful to the eyes anything else about him is the equivalent of a icewater-shower. Which might explains why she interacts with him on armslenght.

#thanks nonnie! #also its two weeks too late forgive me #and its not sunday yet #ANYWAY #hunting-songs: headcanon #hunting-songs