Wanted to do something quick to celebrate Mystic Messenger’s 1st Anniverary! ^0^
Three big cheers for Cheritz who made a game that has made me happier than I ever thought it would. Thank you so much for making such a unique otome with such amazing and fun characters~ This game has motivated me to do a lot of things with my art, including starting a zine, and the fandom has been one of the most fun and nicest ones I’ve been in. Thank you Cheritz!
361-FROZBUN [Frozen-Bunny] -Ice -The Cold pokemon -Ability: Snow Cloak – Fur Coat(HA) -Dex: “To protect themselves from the cold weather, their fur has grown extremely thick, making them round and fluffy. This pokemon will use its long ears to interact with others, often with hugs and nose-kisses.” -Moveset: -Powder Snow -Haze -Cotton Guard -Ice Ball
–>Evolves with max. friendship<–
362-ALASKALOPE [Alaska-Jackalope] -Ice -The Invernal Pokemon -Ability: Snow Cloak – Fur Coat(HA) -Dex: “To keep their body temperature stable, even during the coldest nights, this pokemon meditates completely still for hours . Sometimes many will gather in the same place and form a circle, often holding each other with their ears as they meditate together and share their warmth.” -Moveset: -Ice Beam -Freeze-Dry -Mist -Hail
–>Evolves with an icestone<–
478-SPECTUNDRA [Spectre-Tundra] -Ice/Ghost -The Mystical Pokemon -Ability: Slush Rush – Stormwalker*(HA) -Dex: “This lonely pokemon, through intense meditation, has been able to reach a near-death state, making it able to endure even the most cruel blizzards. This pokemon ears are a symbol of its long-seeked wisdom, and they will continue to grow longer for as long as this pokemon lives.” -Moveset: -Sig. Move: Bone-Chiller “A chilling wind is blown through the opponent, this may leave the foe frozen. If this move is used during a hailstorm, the chances of freezing the opponent rise from 30% to 50%” Type: Ice PP: 10 (max 16) Power: 85 Accuracy: 90% -Blizzard -Ominous Wind -Aurora Veil
*This pokemon sp. attack receives a boost during a hailstorm.
I agree – Meicree is pretty darn cute – definitely one of the more pure ships in this fandom. Sometimes I think they wouldn’t really have a lot in common or much to talk about but I think this relationship would be based on a healthy respect for the others’ knowledge and abilities (very much like Hanmei, which I also adore). Though in this case, Mei is quite a positive person while McCree seems collected and calm, as long as you don’t get on his bad side, with which Mei, seems like it’d be pretty impossible to do! So it’s definitely one of those ‘feel good’ pairings. I usually don’t go for those types but Mei and McCree are adorable so I dig it. ❤
Verdict: Meicree is an adorable pairing! 😌 I really like the art that’s out there for them, too.
Gosh, I don’t even know how to list them! I mean, for sure, Mcsombra is my number 1, no matter what. That’s no question. The big whopper here is listing the supposed other four. I mean, I really love a lot of pairings…and it’s kinda unfair because there’s such a big gap between Mcsombra and everything else which are all sorta on the same level… but I guess this would be it:
Mcsombra
Hanmetra / Widowhanzo / Hanmei
Genyatta
Neon Dragon
High Boom / Mercyhog
These are all determined on one thing: when I find well-written fanfiction of these pairings or well-done fan art of them, I feel really happy. And yea, I guess I sorta cheated, but I genuinely love those Hanzo pairings. I love them all. I want Hanzo to be happy, dang it. 😤
People just want abuse victims that are soft and kind and gentle, the kind of victims who validate their beliefs that “everything happens for a reason”. It doesn’t occur to these people that abuse actually damages people, that it could turn victims bitter and resentful rather than into poster-children for resilience and inner-strength. Victims don’t just exist to pay homage to your worldview that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” as if abuse could ever be a positive or an experience to be grateful for.
I dont know what to say other than Watch it!!!!!!! because Im crying on the floor rn it’s so well done and beautiful and emotional seeing how far he’s come and growth I LOVE ONE (1) MAN and his name is Tony Stark
to be honest, you’re describing the reaction of the final fantasy fandom to the majority of the series’ villains (who are sociopathic villains written to be evil, unlikeable, and even if they are sympathetic, never more so than the protagonists), every year, for thirty years now, starting in 1988 with this evil boy
(who has lent his name to the mateus server in ffxiv)
and continuing on through the years, our most recent iterations being this guy
and this guy
and i fully expect to see it repeat like clockwork with every release of every new final fantasy game or spinoff game or tie-in etc etc so-on-and-so-forth until the heat death of the universe.
Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But – I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”
“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”
The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”
“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”
Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”
“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?”
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.
“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”
“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”
“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”
“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”
“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the
earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost
before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath
your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.
“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to
rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”
“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
All good kisses are hidden behind hats, don’tcha know?
Lovely commission I received of McCree and Tech smoochin’ from Black-Pantheress over on deviantArt. Please check out their art – they’re quite talented. 🙂
I’m a big sucker for kisses that are hidden/out of sight 💖 💖
A mischievous huli jing (fox spirit) named Ying Yue. Normally his ears and tails don’t show around humans but when he gets too excited, they slip through.
(Sorry this is a day or two late! I was having the worst headache last night/ most of today)
Mccree adjusted his hat as he felt the train come to a complete stop, jerking him forward while doing so. Standing up from his current hiding spot on top of one of the train cars, he stretched his back and found relief as a series of cracks ran up his spine.
He needed to find a way to clear his name soon or find a better disguise, riding on top of trains was starting to get old.
Without making too much noise, the vigilante gunslinger grabbed the few belongings he had brought for his “trip” and silently climbed down the side of the train, trying his best to stay out of sight.
He adjusted his red serape around to cover his torso and his mechanical hand. Pulling his hat over enough to conceal part of his face, he blended into the crowd of people that were making their way from the station into the busy streets of Dorado.
Little had changed since his last visit exactly a year ago. People were running around the market place making last minute purchases, others rushing to make it in time for dinner, such was the hustle and bustle of the holiday season
Not that he could relate, the cowboy hadn’t had a traditional Christmas since the days of Overwatch. Bringing back memories of those day reminded him of his personal mission and reason for visiting.
Olivia, the young girl he had found hiding from the approaching Omnic terror under a table over twenty years ago. He had left her in the care of Angela as he needed to return to the city and continue the evacuation efforts.
Unfortunately, that would be the first and last time he would ever see little Olivia. While on one of the final round trips to evacuate all civilians, Mccree’s unit became surrounded by an Omnic squadron.
The confrontation wiped out half of his comrades and left him bleeding out from having his left arm blown off. Having passed out from the initial shock, he woke up hours later in an infirmary outside of the city.
From there they transported him to a hospital for surgery and recovery, forcing him to leave his promise to return for Olivia broken. Mccree vowed to return back to Dorado as soon as he was cleared by the doctors.
However, life for the cowboy would only get worse from there. Following his accident shortly afterwards came the political unrest about the role Overwatch had in the Omnic Crisis which then lead to the discovery of Blackwatch by government agents, fanning the flames of distrust in the eyes of the media and public.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back or in this case broke everyone’s confidence in Overwatch, causing chaos to ensue from public anti-Overwatch riots to internal sabotage between members of the organization.
The stress from years of unrest prior to and after the downfall of Overwatch had pushed Olivia to the back of Mccree’s mind, keeping his promise broken for another ten years.
It was only after the dust had cleared and Overwatch disbanded that the Cowboy was left to figure out life on his own. His name had been left tainted as a result of being affiliated with Blackwatch, leaving him to seek out what some would call “dishonorable” work as a bounty hunter.
One of his jobs brought him back to the city he had vowed to return all those years ago, the city he had last seen engulfed in flames, where he lost his arm and broke his promise to a ten year old girl.
Trying to find a now twenty year old orphan from the Omnic Crisis was like finding a needle in a hay stack. He couldn’t exactly go to the authorities or find public records as they were most likely destroyed from the assault on the city all those years ago.
Mccree therefore resorted to asking townsfolk if they could remember a ten year old orphan girl named Olivia. It had been so long that he could barely picture her face in his mind, not that a description would have done him any good as there were thousands of orphans left behind from the war.
Despite not being able to find any information on his lost friend, every year around the holidays the Cowboy made it a tradition to return to Dorado in hopes of maybe someday being reunited with Olivia.
Every year he would take a stroll around the whole town, eyes darting constantly and ears perked up, searching for maybe a clue that could lead him to finding Olivia.
And every year yielded the same result, raised hopes that needed to be cleared up by some whiskey and thus he would make his way to his favorite bar in the city, Calaveras.
This year was no different from any of the others, his search had left him once again empty handed and in need of a drink. He greeted the old bartender when he entered the bar and sat at his usual spot off to the left side.
“The usual please Raoul,” the tired vigilante grumbled, tipping his hat and placing a bill on the bar “And keep’em coming.”
The night went on without much excitement, there were a couple other patrons at the bar besides him, just a bunch of sad, lonely people that the holidays and world had forgotten about.
“Raoul my friend,” slurred the cowboy, “y’all got anything better behind that bar? I’m needing to do a lot more forgetting if ya know what I mean.”
The bartender rolled his eyes and shook his head before lifting up the divider and allowing the drunken cowboy behind the counter.
Mccree picked up a near full bottle of what he assumed was some type of whiskey and placed a larger bill on the counter. Helping himself to a clean glass, the vigilante poured himself an almost full glass of the brown liquor and downing it almost as fast as he had poured it.
“Mmmm, much better,” was all he could muster out before he started feeling the effects of the stronger alcohol kick in, forcing him to close his tired eyes. His drunken state had numbed his senses to the lovely lady that had just walked into the bar.
Sombra grimaced as she walked into Calaveras, she should have been happy that Talon had allowed her to return home for the holidays but a recent leak of information about her involvement in Katya Volskaya’s escape leading to a scolding from Gabriel had her in a sour mood.
At least she could get her mind off of it for a little bit with some drinks from her favorite bar. Summers were usually the time she would come in for a visit but the loneliness from the holidays had dragged her out of her lair and into the bar.
Sitting at the far right side of the bar, she flagged down Señor Raoul and made her request, scanning the facility as she did so for anything or anyone of interest. One figure caught her eye, a hunched over man at the opposite end of the bar whose face was currently obscured from her sight.
Her eyes dusted over him, taking in the old red serape that was draped across his shoulders, his mechanical hand that he was currently resting his head on, but most importantly was the old cowboy hat he was wearing.
It brought back memories of the teenage boy that had saved her from the crumbling city, the boy that promised to come back and never returned. She had yet to find any new revelation on his current whereabouts, which had led her to assume he was probably dead.
But it seemed that tonight, fate had a surprise in store for the both of them that would put an end to their searching for one another.
The hacker’s eyes widened when Mccree turned his face over in sleepy, drunken stupor, revealing to her an aged version of the Overwatch agent from twenty years ago.
“…No fucking way…”
ALL THIS TIME HE WAS LOOKING FOR HER TOO – HE NEVER FORGOT EVEN WITH ALL THE CRAP THROWN AT HIM DIOS MIO!! mi corazón…
First off, thank you for the dedication!?!?!? i dunno what i did to deserve that b/c your stories are 😚👌🏽 you made me believe that this pairing wasn’t dead after a huge dry spell of content!
I’d been waiting for an update for this story for so long and we finally got it…I can only wait in anticipation for what’s going to happen next BUT PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF – I hope you feel 100% better soon! Thank you for always providing such wholesome mcsombra content for us thirsty gremlins (mainly me) 💓💓💓
So guys it finally happened. My family knows about my self shipping and it was fucking great. My sister was laughing at me bc she caught a glimpse of my fucking drawings and wanted to know. When she put two and two together she laughed and then proceeded to tell my mother about it when we got into the car to go get food.
My mom had th best reaction I’ve ever heard and it really purs shit into perspective I feel to the shit we hear from ppl about it. She didn’t even say anything other than “That’s okay. It’s the same thing as me being obsessed with Eminem.” And the conversation went as followed.
“I mean I guess.”
“Well you do have a crush on a youtuber. Mines better because he doesn’t exist.”
(PS: French friends, I will attend at Y/con (Oct 14th/15th, Paris), stand V10 !! I’ll be there with charms, prints and stickers! Hope to see you there! 😀 ♥ )
Well then…..
um..I asked clothing suggestions from @thatonedaydream and that I would draw Gabe wearing it, then she mentioned him with a flamingo inner tube and it all went downhill from there lmao.
tbh I just wanted an excuse to draw Gabe in a bikini
Now if you’ll excuse me, the trash can is calling me.
Uh… so I wanted to try and draw a human version of Zenyatta
and this is what my brain thought he would look like.
Hope you like how this turned out? (´･ω･`)
~My Tumblr Back-Up And Stuffs~ 
You must be logged in to post a comment.