#V RHYMES WITH MEME【 FILE: OOC 】

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OKAY SUMMER’S OVER AND IM BACK IN SCHOOL

ANYONE WANT A STARTER WHILE I REDO MY TAGS

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starter call

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super sneaky starter call

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sneaky starter call bc i love myself.

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we done closed on the house and are startin to move in.

bITCHES WE HOMEOWNERS NOW.

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starter call !!

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who wants a hanzo in their ask box?

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hi im v and i love my interactions with @mctanoiia and @stcrmcallcr

you guys can reblog it, but only my roleplay partners, please! no personals.

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i hope everyone on my dash knows i love them

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sxliidus replied to your post: i hope everyone on my dash knows i love them

I’M NOT ON THE DASH, SO NO LOVE FOR ME. I SEE HOW IT IS–

BABY YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU

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rcnegabe replied to your post: i hope everyone on my dash knows i love them

we love u

GASP

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birthday week is officially over, and i am officially back!

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my favorite thing about all healing arrow art is just how hanzo looks at angie.

his gaze is always so gentle. so tender. so loving. he adores her. she is his guiding light, the reason he keeps pushing through. she is everything to him and i just.

boi i die.

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HEADCANON

just a reminder that my hanzo does not use his bow and arrow. the reason canon hanzo uses his is because after killing genji, he swore to never pick up a sword again. mine did not go through that because he did not flee. he continues to use his father’s sword to this day, though that is all it is.

it is not his sword, but sojiro’s.

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holy shit i’ve hit 400 followers

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So uh. I’m working on a drabble rn but here’s half of it. Warning for body horror, surgical stuff, ect !!

Ikiryo remembers the first operation, just as he remembers all of them.

The nurses are there first. Four of them, each wearing scrubs the color of a cloudless sky. Each has a mask covering the bottom half of their face. Three of them are busy wiping his skin down while the fourth sits up near his chest and neck, a needle held firmly in her hand.

He doesn’t bother trying to pull away. The bindings around his wrists and ankles are firm, padded; enough to ensure he doesn’t hurt himself, but also to keep him from escaping.

The nurse closest to him smiles gently, blotting sweat from his forehead. She uses that moment to take the needle and prick the left side of his neck. There is the sound of metal and glass, and soon her free hand squeezes his.

“It will be all right,” she murmurs in their native tongue, “the elders know what is best for you, my prince. I’m here on their orders— to help you through this.”

“We’ll be sure you know everything that is happening to you, sir.” Another nurse, one closer to his waist. She’s careful with him, blushes as she pushes his gown away from his midsection. Must be new. “It will be all right.”

His body begins to tingle. He knows they are telling the truth; at least, the truth they know. He isn’t the prince they deserved, and so the elders have taken him under their wing. He will be stronger. He will be what they deserve.

“You won’t feel any pain,” another promises. Another promise. Gentle fingers stroke his hair.

Fifteen minutes in, and the world is buzzing with excitement, activity. Doctors file in, chatting about anything and everything—other than their patient. Water streams behind him; they’re washing their hands. The nurses at his feet chatter off the past fifteen minutes in under thirty seconds. A surgeon appears next to the nurse, smiles down at him.

It’s supposed to comfort him. Instead his stomach lurches.

Forty-five minutes. Two surgeons, all focused on his abdomen. The smell of copper and steel fills the air. The nurse to his side hasn’t let go of his hand. She’s chattering away, talking about this and that; about things in her life, and moments in his that he can barely remember. She talks of them as if they’re moments of history, not pieces of him.

An hour in, and his vision blurs. The tingling stops, and the nurse next to him lifts something into view. He doesn’t know what it is. He can’t tell. She fastens it over his mouth, whispering something he can’t quite hear. He can feel his chest flutter, lungs and heart pounding, but there is no pain. Not even when something curls in his chest, or when his lungs stop. A sob escapes him, but there is no sound. There is no air. He cannot breathe.