#sentosbite

             ❛  this  is  a  waste  of  time.  ❜

                                                            ❛  you  find  much  joy  in  disobedience.  ❜

The window remains open and the long stretch of sun treads sparkles through. The wind from the roaring sea blows in, yet there is a comfortable warmth throughout the room. Hanzo can still scent the star-studded vastness of the salty ocean wafting through the howling winds, as branches twist and turn, the luminous glow upon the expanding serenity of his still face, remaining deep in sleep as radiance embeds more like watercolor upon the sunbaked copper of his exposed torso. 

The synapses of his muscles, engraved with pain grasps him onto further depth of sleep, and the fibers of them become the vehicle of the etching bolts, as Hanzo writhes. The dry spell of his nightmare heightening in its intensity as echoic shrieks of screams back in such disturbing delirium as he stands amidst in the unbearable carnage. He wants nothing more than this empty void of his heart to be filled up, instead of collecting specks of blood and holding bile in his stomach as merciless stretch of time renders already gruesome scenery into something inconceivable. 

Send me ‘✂’ and my muse will kill yours. Right now.

FINISH HIM!

hdvdjsjfb you’re so cute

Random Father’s Day Shenanigans || @sentosbite || accepting

He still lives on with his courage, his sincerity, and his flaming self-respect. It’s these things that Hanzo believes in, even when his whole world indulges in vivid suspicions that he wasn’t all he should be. Hanzo is never without that flair of life, the equal passion to be matched at what he does. It’s like two mighty oceans crashing together to make its own tides, growing to cause a wreckage. And he knows Kenshi does the same for himself, with their deep hurt of loss, respective incorrigible soul to match theirs to help and guide them forth all the trenchant path of their lives. For Harumi and Suchin’s presence would bind them whole to see the stars above and fuel their hearts to do better. This particular night’s brilliance and illuminations grow in tandem with Hanzo’s deep hurt and tension, resting between his slatted ribcage, full of sadness, heartbreak and residual anger. 

“Happy Father’s Day to you, too…” His heart leaks out of him, like the sweet nectarines as its saccharine fragrance would permeate the entirety of their atmosphere. They have shared enough of personal distance, enough for Kenshi to taste the crimson fire burning in his chest as his fingers scald through the necklace gingerly held against his fingers. “It’s a blessing and a curse to live with so much memories of them, that the absence of their love becomes a twisting, fatal blade against his chest.” While his smile is reciprocated in courtesy and respect towards the swordsman, he cannot help, but to plunge amidst the precipice of yearning, the darkened specter of his past returning as he gazes into the abysmal depth of his guilt and grievance.