#implied mchanzo

[lupusmaxima]

every day i pray for hanzo’s causal winter skin and every day i’m disappointed.

blizzard is really gonna get me to go through all 21 days of winter wonderland without getting that skin in a loot box

[dogblessyoutascha]

When you realize you’re about to lose another hoverbike.

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

i have had a very rough few days at my new job and wanted to draw some peach lovin’ to make me feel better

[nitewrighter]

Care Package

The box appeared outside the gates of the watchpoint some time in the small hours of the morning, Christmas day. All the watchpoint security cameras picked up was a spiral of black smoke and the box just... appearing there. It was wrapped in twine and brown paper, with a “To: Aedan” tag and a “Do not open until Christmas” stamp on it. The poor little box had gone through the gauntlet being scanned by every device imaginable on the watchpoint. All confirmed. No electrical bugging. No corrosive or explosive materials. No Vishkar tech. Aedan was still in his pajamas (or rather the Overwatch logo-slathered sweats which he used as pajamas) when Jack had summoned him to Winston’s lab, at a weary 5 in the morning, to hand him the box. 

“Is this from you?” said Aedan, looking over the box.

Jack shook his head.

“...Do I have to open it in front of you?” said Aedan.

“I wish I could say, ‘I don’t think Talon would pull anything on Christmas,’ but I wouldn’t put it past them,” said Jack, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

 He handed Aedan a boxcutter and Aedan cut the twine, tore past the brown paper, and cut the tape securing the box open. Jack leaned over his shoulder slightly as Aedan pulled out an old pair of his skinny jeans, a new pair of corduroy pants, several of his old shirts (the blackstar shirt, the Velvet Underground shirt, a tacky gag shirt that read ‘Pipette, Cry, Repeat,’ and two dress shirts), old and new underwear, and one of those athletic wear quarter-zip base layer wool tops in black, new. 

“Well.. you won’t have to keep borrowing stuff from around the watchpoint as much,” Jack said with a shrug as Aedan pulled out a small envelope from the interior of the box. It was all done up in the fancy stationery of his mother’s Ministry of Genetics office, even embossed with a wax seal that bore the stylized double-helix of her office. Aedan didn’t think looking at something as boring as stationery would make him miss Oasis that much harder, but it did. He opened the letter.

Dear Aedan, (And I assume Jack or Ana or the ape or whoever’s reading this because they’re probably treating you like a criminal at best there)---

Aedan gave a glance to Jack, who was reading over his shoulder, and Jack gave a quiet scoff, before looking back at the letter.

This is not forgiveness. This is not acceptance. This is only so you might have slightly more dignity while you’re on that Watchpoint (if they don’t burn this package like the animals they are). I acknowledge that you are my son and my creation and my responsibility, but I also acknowledge that you are your own person, and that you can make your own decisions (however terrible they may be). You have gone beyond my protection, and you are choosing to protect a world that will not protect you--it either takes a great deal of fearlessness or a great deal of stupidity to do that, and I know you take after me, so it must be mostly the former. You know I have never been one for blind faith or sentiment, and as such I have never placed much stock in these holidays. I will say that your presence in my life gave them more merit and your absence now makes them far more difficult than they ever were before. I don’t know what the future holds for you, but you may as well have some proper clothes to face it with.

You are my greatest creation. I hope you never forget that, and I hope the world sees that, someday.

Nollaig shona duit, a thaisce,

Mum

Aedan closed the letter and tucked it back into the envelope.

“Sure manages to turn ‘I miss you’ into a mouthful, huh?” said Jack.

“Yes,” Aedan smiled a little, but then that smile faded.

 Jack awkwardly patted his shoulder. “This can’t be easy... first Christmas here, and all.”

“I can manage,” Aedan folded up some of the clothes he had taken out and put them back in the box, “Any plans?”

“Same old,” said Jack with a shrug, “If you want to spend your Christmas triangulating terrorist locations...”

“I’m good, thanks,” said Aedan, picking up the box.

-----

Aedan slept in another few hours that Christmas morning, had a light, lonely breakfast in the Watchpoint mess hall and returned to his quarters at the watchpoint dormitories. He was folding and putting away his new and old clothing in the locker at the foot of his bed when he accidentally knocked the box over pulling out the pair of corduroys and a small holographic-red foil wrapped object bounced out of the bottom of the box and rolled a little bit. Aedan picked it up and found it was a Christmas cracker.

“Not without your sense of humor, are you, Mum?” he said quietly. He wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at being festive or some sense of holiday traditions on her end, or if she was making clear how alone he was this holiday without someone to hold the other end of the tube. In any case, he shrugged and took hold of both ends of the foil. Might as well, he thought, pulling on the ends of it.

“Merry Christmas!” a clear voice cut across the room and Aedan flinched hard at the sudden sound, sundering the Christmas cracker with a loud pop. He looked over his shoulder to see Rei in the stairwell down to the dorms with a small wrapped package under her arm.

Aedan exhaled. “You really ought to give me more warning before you sneak up on me like that.”

Rei rolled her eyes and continued down the stairs, “I wasn’t ‘sneaking,’” she said with a smile, “Though I am naturally undetectable by the untrained eye...” she spoke with mock gravitas and then made a chopping motion with her hand.

“Ninja,” both she and Aedan said at the same time and Rei snickered, “What was that? The popping?”

Aedan held up one half of the destroyed Christmas cracker. “Just... this—it’s stupid, don’t worry about it,” he said quietly, setting it aside.

“Huh... cool. Anyways--Here,” she held the box out to him.

“Oh--you didn’t have to--you really shouldn’t have--” Aedan started.

“I wanted to,” said Rei, holding the box out to him.

“When I say ‘You shouldn’t have’ I mean, ‘I don’t have anything to give you,’” said Aedan, glancing off.

“Aedan, I would literally be dead without you and you gave up everything to be here,” said Rei pushing the box forward, “Come on.”

Aedan bit the inside of his lip and took the box from her. The wrapping paper itself had some kind of nonsensical unicorns-in-santa-hats pattern on it and was hemorrhaging glitter. She watched with a smile on her face as he unwrapped it and lifted the lid off of the box. Inside was a round, flattened cylindrical object, roughly hand-sized in diameter.

“You said you missed your music the most right?” said Rei, “And you were also into like... ridiculously outdated stuff like vinyl or phonograms or whatever.”

“Just vinyl,” said Aedan, picking up the object out of the box, “This looks pre-crisis as well, though.”

“It’s a ‘C-D player!’” said Rei, as Aedan turned the object over, “Athena helped me, ‘burn a disc’ for it--which is what they called making music discs back then? That’s kind of dumb...like, why would you call it ‘burning,’ you know? Oh! Here!”

She pressed a button on top of the CD player, opening it up to reveal a CD covered with marker drawings and the words “Welcome to the Watchpoint” written in spiky letters.

“It’s got old and new stuff, Rajeev and Marti helped out, too,” said Rei, “We can burn another if you don’t like—“

She suddenly found herself caught up in a tight hug.

“Go raibh maith agat,” his voice was muffled into her shoulder.

Rei smiled and patted his back. “Yeah! Uh... gurra ma-hagot to you too!”

A chuckle shook Aedan as he broke away from her with his hands on her shoulders. “I—sorry,” he pulled his hands away from her, “I can’t thank you enough for this. I really—I wish I could give you something...”

“Well you could handle dishes tonight,” said Rei, crossing her arms slyly.

“Dishes?” Aedan tilted his head.

“Y’know, after dinner,” said Rei.

“Dinner—you mean Christmas dinner.”

“Well yeah— Uncle Jesse always cooks way too much and the Amaris are over in Canada and—“

“You’re inviting me to Christmas dinner...” Aedan said the words, trying to make sense of them.

“Mm-hm!” Rei nodded, all bright eyes and wide smiles.

“Your mum hates me—“ Aedan started.

“Christmas armistice. If she can put up with Uncle Hanzo, she can put up with you. She’ll be nice. Promise,” said Rei, “And I’ve got your back.”

Aedan stood there, stunned for a few seconds. “Y-yes,” he managed at last, “I’d love to.”

“You know where our apartment is, right? Be there at 4!” said Rei, backing towards the stairwell, “We start early!”

“Right—early,” Aedan said, glancing over at the pile of clothes on his bed. His eyes flicked to the Christmas cracker, “Wait!” he blurted out, picking it up.

Rei paused on the stairwell as Aedan stepped up toward her. He picked through the Christmas cracker and gingerly unfolded a gold foil crown. “It’s... not a proper present but...” he trailed off and set the crown on her head. Normally the crowns from those poppers were annoyingly loose around the head, but the thickness of her hair kept the crown well-positioned. She looked better than most in it. Or maybe he just thought she looked better than most all the time. He wasn’t sure.

Rei adjusted the crown on her head slightly and smiled, “It’s perfect,” she said smiling.

“There’s a terrible joke that comes with it,” said Aedan, holding up a small slip of paper from the Christmas cracker.

“Save it for Uncle Jesse,” said Rei, gently chucking him on the chin, “Four o’ clock.”

“Four o’ clock,” Aedan repeated after her as she hurried up the stairs.The words sounded almost magical.

“Four o’ clock!” Rei’s voice trailed behind her even as she disappeared past the top of the stairs.

“Four o’ clock,” Aedan said quietly as Rei slipped off. His shoulders slumped slightly in a dreamlike stupor, as he stared up the stairwell. He stood there smiling for a few moments, but then he suddenly perked up. “Shit, I need to cook something.”

[camwritesshit-blog]

In Jesse McCree’s life there have been few things that’ve happened that have blindsided him completely.  

One was the sting that hauled him out of shit central and into some militarized version of fight club. Another was when Ana fucking Amari had given him ‘responsibility’ over Fareeha and told him she’d be back later. The third had been the explosion that had torn up the Overwatch base and sent everyone still living scattered throughout who knows where.

Then, there’d been the flower petals.

He’d had a bit of a cough, something that had lingered but not with enough discomfort to send him to Angie for anything. A cold, that’s what he’d figured it was. Something he’d picked up on the road, it wasn’t uncommon. They came into contact with a lot of shit from a lot of places.

And at first it’d been fairly easy to deal with. A cough here and there, hell, sometimes a clear of his throat to deal with the tickle, and nothing else.

As time passed... it got a little rougher. Still nothing he felt serious about, he didn’t have a sore throat, nothing hurt or felt tender, it was just a cough. He covered his mouth and waved off questions about it. It wasn’t affecting his work, he barely coughed outside of the base it seemed, but...

The target he was supposed to watch hadn’t shown up. Info had been faulty and Jesse was stuck for a full day without anything to do, so he’d wandered. Weaving among the market stalls on the road and finding tiny little trinkets that reminded him of people. Knickknacks, tchochkies, all those silly keychains that no one ever used. He picked out a few things, had purchases on his arm when he saw the tiniest little porcelain dragon in a flea market stall.

It’s tail was chipped and the paint was rubbed off on one haunch, but it was blue with a golden mane and regal pose and Jesse cottoned on to it like a kid on cake. Picking it up and turning it over, a soft grin tucked in the corner of his mouth, eyes that drifted for only a few seconds before he started to cough, violently. Tucking his head into the crook of his elbow and hacking until he felt dizzy from lack of air and finally spitting a gob of wet muck out of his mouth on to his shirt. Looking at it dazedly to find that it wasn’t mucus or anything of the kind...

It was petals.

Petals.

The stall owner clicks her tongue and pats his shoulder, taking the little dragon from where it’d fallen and tucking it into his hand with a shooing movement before deliberately turning her back on him.

He left the money for it on the shelf out of some desperate need not to be pitied and shuffled off, lungs still aching with exertion. Barely paying attention to where he’s going, instead going over the pieces of a puzzle he should have put together sooner. 

Coughing, mostly centered on base. Heck, not just base, but common areas. Areas where he’d seen him. The tightness of his chest that didn’t quite want to go away after he coughed and could still see that black hair or pale skin.

Back in his hotel room he sags to the bed, unfurling his hand to look at the wet yellow petals. There was a dull throb in his chest that kept him focused on them, the full, wide petals among smaller shreds and crumpled masses. Less than a handful, more than a few. Jesse isn’t ignorant of what it means, either.

It means he’s royally, damnably fucked.

[metakiid]

Is something the matter, hunter?

________________________________________________

This is proabbly one of the quickest pieces that I’ve ever made and been proud of, wow. Anyways, I really like the little scales on his scion skin, so decided to include them on this because I thought it would look cool.

I also did a version where he has blood on his lips sorta like lipstick but I don’t know whether I really want to add it to this.

[noobledragoom]

Banana man vs demon assassin

[wearerandomlyyours]

Current mood: Doomfist laying in bed, staring at a picture of Hanzo, quietly singing along to 'Jessie's Girl'.