error 404

𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬.

[hackress]

hello! all threads on this blog have been dropped (unless requested otherwise!)

I HAVE MOVED TO:

                                          SCRIVENEUR

[concxssive-remade]

Sombra aesthetic for @highlikethemoon

insp

[raitoskitchen]

almost…

[hackress]

@savedgames​ // widowmaker:  Sets a sniper here giving her a kiss on the cheek.

she  has  a  propensity  for  becoming  wrapped  up  in  her  work  when  the  situation  allows  it  -  enveloped  in  the  clacking  off  her  fingertips  and  the  information  flowing  at  an  alarming  rate  before  her  eyes.  such  as  she  is  now  -  seated  at  her  desk  in  castillo  with  the  evening  light  reflecting  through  the  blinds,  and  her  eyes  narrowed  at  bytes  of  information  across  the  screen.  so  encapsulated  is  she  in  whatever  war  she  was  starting,  she  does  not  realize  the  encroaching  chilled  frame  at  her  back,  until  cool  lips  find  her  cheek.  instead  of  jumping,  sombra  finds  herself  smirking,  immediately  abandoning  her  work  to  cast  attention  on  the  beautiful  ballerina  occupying  her  space. 

her  chair  turns  towards  her,  and  the  hacker  reaches  out,  fingertips  ghosting  briefly  along  firm  arms.  upwards,  she  leans  -  into  the  taller  woman’s  space  to  seek  another  kiss,  this  one  upon  supple  lips.  a  noise  of  delight  leaves  her.  amélie  always  tasted  divine,  and  so  she  cannot  resist,  yanking  the  elder  into  her  lap  (despite  their  height  difference)  and  using  the  change  in  position  to  toy  with  mile  long  silken  locks.  another  warm  kiss  is  placed  upon  a  flawless  cheek...  affection  for  the  woman  who  deserved  it  most  in  this  world.  she’d  gladly  give  her  all  to  help  amélie  feel  again. 

                “ what  is  it,  mi  araña?  craving  my  attention  again? ”

[hackress]

@soldier24th​​:  "Are you using condoms?"

normally  an  expert  at  keeping  her  poker  face  intact,  the  question  has  her  whirling  on  him  -  face  lit  up  with  surprise  and  mouth  momentarily  slack  jawed.  if  nothing  else  than  hearing  the  word ‘condom’  leave  the  infamous  reaper’s  mouth  has  her  staggered,  even  a  little  chilled.  but  there  was  something  utterly  comical  about  an  internationally  wanted  homicidal  murderer/human  vape  machine  asking  her,  a  thirty  year  old  woman,  if  she  was  using  condoms. 

the  look  she  levels  him  with  has  morphed  from  surprised  to  scathing. 

as  if  she  were  something  akin  to  a  peeved  off  cat,  she  reaches  outwards  from  her  position  on  his  table,  to  lightly  knock  an  adjacent  communicator  on  the  floor.  it  was  a  gesture  purely  made  of  spite. 

       “ no. ”  she  says  breezily,  a  hand  raising  to  exam  the  pristine  violet  of  her  titanium  nails. “ but  that’s  because  widowmaker  doesn’t  have  the  equipment  to  make  children. ”  and  then,  a  wicked  gleam  in  her  eyes. “ are  you? ”

[q5dis]

loslock

[hackress]

@coyotefaced​:  " everyone has their price, sugar. what's yours? "

she’s  enveloped  in  the  task  at  hand,  titanium  nails  working  the  materialized  information  in  the  air  before  her,  while  her  other  hand  is  gentle  upon  his  prosthetic  arm.  it’s  open  upon  her  lap,  a  few  tools  nearby  and  the  neural  connectors  at  her  spine  positioned  at  three  points  near  his  wrist.  her  eyes,  mischievous  as  they  usually  are,  are  instead  lit  up  strangely  in  the  dim  light  of  her  room  -  of  her  task  -  brain  processing  data  at  a  rate  not  entirely  human  and  utilizing  it  to  perhaps,  better  the  man  before  her.  one  could  say  that  sombra  would  have  as  much  reason  to  ruin  jesse  mccree’s  life  -  but  she  doesn’t.  not  in  this  way  especially.  there  was  something  so  intimate  about  working  on  his  prosthetic...  even  she,  nefarious  as  she  may  be,  knows  not  to  cross  that  line. 

a  hum  parts  her  lips  while  she  works,  and  for  a  time  she  does  not  answer  him,  bytes  of  data  flowing  along  the  neural  pathways  into  whatever  she  is  doing,  until  her  screwdriver  turns  easily  along  a  bolt  and  she  can’t  help  but  raise  an  eyebrow  at  him. “been  overclocking,  have  you?  that’s  bad  for  you,  ya  know.  could  do  some  serious  damage.”  but  she  doesn’t  lecture  him,  instead  briefly  returning  to  her  work  and  closing  off  a  panel  as  she  finishes  up.  sombra  isn’t  quite  done  tho  -  and  his  question  earns  a  smirk  upon  plump  tiers  as  she  leans  away  from  him.  her  grin  is  almost  savage.  it  was  never  a  good  sign. 

“ you  could  let  me  install  a  vibration  feature  into  your  arm.  we  could  have  a real  good  time  with  that,  vaquero.  ”  wicked  laughter  has  her  thin  shoulders  shaking  and  she  offers  him  a  daring  arch  of  brows,  one  fingertip  booping  lightly  at  his  nose. “ whattaya  say,  jesse?  care  for  an  upgrade?  ”

[hackress]

someone kiss this gremlin she requires physical affection (and your secrets) to survive

[hackress]

I return to life on this blog with a POTG! Gonna reblog memes and do some threads uwu. Maybe inbox call🙏🏻

[semiotextiana]

im so sexy and fun and fucking doomed

[knightwayne]

sombra + favorite skins

[hackress]

[hackress]

@giddyub​: it's the glint of iridescent glass that catches the eye, the devil's poison slipping down the edges of the bottle and into the merc's mouth. in free hand, cigar betwixt cybernetic digits as flames dull out of existence. typically a disappointing sight, but alas he knows better than to taint a youn' darling's heart with hellish fumes. despite all, he has no doubt that she wants something from he. " go on, get with it, " lids falling half, he revels in silence, admiring that adorable visage.

she’s  seated  across  the  small  table  in  her  studio  apartment,  window  rustling  the  purple  curtains  with  a  sigh  through  the  cracked  window.  the  cool  sea  breeze  floats  around  them  as  a  temptress,  deeply  enraptured  with  the  storm  brewing  betwixt  the  vaquero  and  his  hacker.  titanium  nails  drum  lightly  against  the  scarred  wood,  and  the  file  beneath...  it’s  information  for  another  day.  she  does  his  dirty  work,  after  all,  for  a  price,  but  sometimes  certain  things  came  free  -  and  her  company  was  one  of  them. 

jewel  tone  orbs  sweep  to  the  bottle  glinting  in  the  violet  light  of  her  monitors,  and  the  candles  that  remain  lit  in  the  small  kitchenette.  she  offers  him  the  vaguest  smirk  in  those  tinted  lips,  before  reaching  forward  to  steal  his  drink.  to  her  lips she  brings  it,  downing  a  bit  of  the  poisonous  liquor  with  not  an  ounce  of  restraint.  her  small  frame  is  then  unfolded  from  her  seat,  and  she  stands  instead  to  move  herself  across  from  him.  peering  downwards,  sombra  gives  him  a  delighted  ounce  over,  and  then  hands  find  his  shoulders,  and  she  deposits  herself  in  his  lap  with  hardly  a  moment  of  pretense. slim  legs  fold  neatly  over  one  side  of  him,  so  she  sits  sideways  against  his  warmth.  a  hand  rests  lightly  upon  his  shoulder,  while  the  other  plucks  that  burning  cigar  from  his  lips,  and  instead  pulls  it  to  her  own.  a  slow,  measured  inhale  leaves  her,  and  she  savors  the  spiced  burn  -  before  exhaling  towards  him,  so  that  smoke  curls  about  both  their  features  in  the  dim  light. 

     “ you  giving  me  orders  now,  mccree?  ”  the  cigar  is  placed  back  into  his  mouth,  and  she  blinks  slowly  at  him  through  the  haze,  her  smirk  lascivious  and  eyes  bright  with  mischief. “ you  sure  you  don’t  want  to  have  some  fun  first?  all  work  and  no  play  is  a  piss  poor  way  to  live  out  your  life.  ”  besides,  that  file  contained  bombshells  that  she  was  not...  exactly  eager  to  share.  at  least  not  yet. 

[mllelamarin]

Sombra online 💜

[hackress]

she’s so beautiful... i love her so much... ma’am, kiss me please....

[hackress]

@countrywestern​

the  cries  of  the  gulls  and  harbor  tolls  have  long  since  become  white  noise  in  her  mind,  the  peaceful  lull  of  the  comings  and  goings  of  castillo  a  comfort  to  the  constant  rattle  of  her  psyche.  the  sunset  touches  lightly  through  her  windows,  golden  beams  retreating  across  the  sea  as  the  sun  herself  moved  to  lay  at  rest.  she  hardly  notices,  however,  far  too  enraptured  in  the  translocator  before  her.  tongue  sticking  out  just  a  bit  from  the  corner  of  her  lips,  she  is  intently  wiggling  a  screw  driver  beneath  the  outermost  edges  when  the  beep  of  her  proximity  indicators  catches  her  attention. 

               or  it  would  have,  anyways,  had  she  not  been  so  focused  on  her  task.

in  hindsight,  he  probably  could  have  crept  up  on  her  regardless,  being  just  who  he  was.  but  then  again,  that  would  have  made  things  too  easy  for  the  both  of  them.  still  though,  paranoia  has  titanium  accented  hands  grappling  for  her  gun  before  her  brain  catches  up  with  her  fingers  and  she  breathes.  a  swipe  of  her  hand  has  all  information  on  her  monitors  closed,  the  conspiracy  (always  watching,  always  waiting)  on  the  wall  tucked  away,  and  all  accents  of  illegal  activity  (specifically  that  file  featuring  jesse  mccree  and  ana  amari)  hidden  in  plain  sight.  didn’t  need  him  knowing  she  was  still  snooping  around  him,  just  yet. 

the  door  clicks  open  and  she  stands  before  him  -  in  a  tank  top  and  shorts,  utterly  devoid  of  that  absurd mission  get  up.  she  might  have  looked  a  normal  young  woman,  were  it  not  for  the  augments  ordaining  her  body.  an  appraising  gaze  is  glanced  over  her  visitor,  and  she  steps  aside  after  deeming  him  worthy  enough  to  enter  her  den. 

           “ hola,  vaquero. ”  a  narrowing  of  her  unusually  colored  gaze,  before  dark  tinted  lips  lilt  upwards  in  that  nefarious  grin.  a  titanium  nail  reaches  forward,  clanking  rather  obnoxiously  against  the  gilded  outline  of  that  ridiculous  belt  buckle. “ you  got  the  goods? ”

                                    vodka,  preferably.  but  she  wasn’t  picky.

[hackress]

@savedgames​: "If I die, I’m haunting you first.” — have a Widowmaker

there  is  something  to  be  said  for  sombra’s  inexplicable  charm  and  ability  to  just  manipulate  people  into  doing  the  most  mundane  of  things.  it  was  a  talent,  really,  alongside  many  others,  to  somehow  annoy  world  class  assassins  into  not  only  tolerating  her,  but  not  yet  murdering  her  either.  something  to  be  added  to  her  resume,  she  thinks: ‘just  useful  enough  to  not  be  killed  in  my  sleep.’  though  judging  by  the  look  their  resident  sniper  was  giving  her...  well,  that  achievement  may  be  cut  short. 

her  grin  is  nefarious  at  least,  terrifying  at  best.  she  is  utterly  nonplussed  by  the  threat,  and  instead  offers  the  older  woman  another  plate,  pushing  the  warm  and  cinnamon  coated  snack  closer  towards  her.  or  as  close  as  she  could  anyway.  the  table  at  château  guillard  was  massive.  after  all,  she’d  just  wandered  (snooped)  her  way  in  here  on  accident  (very  much  on  purpose) looking  to  share  in  a  treat.  something  about  widowmaker  tugged  at  the  deepest  part  of  her  empathy  (or  what  remained)  if  only  because  she  remembers  extracting  her  file,  reading  just  what  had  been  done--  another  bite  of  the  churro,  and  the  french  woman  is  offered  an  innocent  grin. 

             “ come  on  now, mi  araña,  i  didn’t  poison  them.                          besides,  you’d  make  a  terrible  ghost.  your  heels  are  loud                         and  your  suit  is  shiny. ”