Sombra ignores Lacroix’s comment, her voice as smooth and cold as her lucerne skin. She knows those eerie golden eyes of her are glaring at the back of her head. Lacroix understands very well the emotion that lies locked in Sombra’s heart, it’s just she can no longer care or relate to it. Sombra knows this and tries to ignore the otherwise pointed rudeness in the sniper’s observation.
The sensation in her chest, what once began as a gentle tickle now burns her lungs as she shakes, coughing and covering her mouth with a closed fist. The less attention she brings to her ailment, the better for her. She’s been a shadow for so long – it’s only fitting she disappears like one as well: quietly, unknowingly.
She chokes and finally, the offending object lodges itself out of her throat and into her hand. Sombra blinks slowly, clearing her throat to alleviate the stinging pain and lingering ache before her fingers spread open to reveal a delicate red petal resting upon her palm.
Letting a finger trace the soft edges of the petal, she, once again, since she’s developed her illness, admires the man’s choice in flowers. She saw many of them grow in Coahuila and near the border of Mexico when she lived much further north than Castillo. They used to be nothing more than plants – things she’d never give a second glance to. Now, she stops to admire them anytime she happens to see them sprouting, whether it be in a walled-off garden or next to a rotting wooden fence on an off-beaten trail. She knows it must be morbid to find beauty in the symbol of her demise but she finds it comforting. When she can’t touch what she so desperately wants to touch, the flowers are the next best thing. When she plucks one to gingerly trail across her lips, she imagines that the soft touch might be what a kiss – shared, not taken – might feel like. When she plucks a few more to take home with her – to keep in a small vase, she imagines that it’s like taking a piece of him home with her, the flowers watching over her as she sleeps.
Sombra is aware that her rationale is an exhausting stretch but it doesn’t stop her from living vehemently through her imagination. Why should it bother her? The same stretches very well having been the reason she’s in this predicament in the first place.
**Permissionto post from their pages was granted by the artist Don’t remove credits & don’t repost/edit the art Please, rate and/or bookmark their works on Pixiv too **
did I ever tell y’all about the time my dad’s friend got near-fatally stabbed by a deer
I worry that you may look at this and picture my dad’s friend being gored by a deer. you may think I am being slightly careless or hyperbolic with my word choice
oh no. no no no.
he got stabbed by a deer. with a knife. a deer used a knife to stab him and he almost died.
okay so
It is a fact of life in the time and location in Ohio where this story takes place that the deer population has no natural predators in the area. Regulated human hunting is necessary to keep the population to a healthy size.
And deer season opens in staggered brackets, right? Bowhunting opens first, to give people using bows and arrows a chance to get their shot in (no pun intended) before people with loud guns start scaring all the game away. Bore-loading rifles open next, works up to shotguns, etc. If you want to hunt deer with a machine gun you have to wait until everyone else has had their turn, basically.
So while my dad’s friend here does enjoy hunting for sport, he doesn’t need the meat the way some people do and as such he doesn’t feel right using guns; anyway, he likes the extra challenge of bowhunting, and it makes him feel better knowing that the deer have a sporting chance.
So he’s out there with a bow and arrow right when deer come into season.
Hits one. Clean shot, deer goes down, so the guy pulls out his hunting knife and walks up to this deer, which has just been shot and is by all rights already dead. He’s just doing the humane thing and checking to make sure so that he can give it a mercy stroke if it’s still clinging weakly to life.
This deer ain’t clinging weakly to shit.
So the poor man squats down next to its head, holding his hunting knife responsibly with the point facing down so that if he stumbles and falls he won’t impale himself. It’s what you’re supposed to do.
Dying deer looks him in the eye and has a split second in which it telepathically communicates:Fuck you.
Kicks out exactly one time.
Hits the knife perfectly and drives it into the guy’s thigh up to the hilt. And then dies.
Anyway there are some pretty fucking important veins and arteries in your thigh, which the deer’s Taking You With Me move thankfully missed. So this man who just wanted to give deer a fair fight ended up in the middle of the woods with a gushing thigh wound and almost bled out before he managed to get himself back to his car and very, very carefully make his way to the hospital.
(By all accounts he was very good-natured about the whole thing. Once he was no longer in immediate danger of dying he thought it was hilarious. In his own words, “It’s not like I can blame him, you know? I mean…that’s fair. That’s fair.”)
And that is the story of how my dad’s friend got stabbed by a righteously pissed-off deer.
The only Non-Ohioan thing about this is how calm and sensible your dad’s friend was about the whole incident, instead of say, bleeding out becuase he tried to haul the carcass back or going on a militant anti-deer campaign.
@dontneed-nohealing here is your commission! I hope you like it!
Light
flared through your bedroom window, causing you to groan and pull the
blanket above your head.
“Get
up.” Jesse’s Southern drawl filled your ears, a low chuckle emiting
from him as your pillow hit his face.
“Get
out.” You growled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
You glared at the cowboy, your first friend in Overwatch.
“Angela
says you’re going to be late for breakfast.” He rolls his eyes and
holds his hands up defensively. “Sorry for tryin’ ta save yer
hide.”
You
growled once again, standing up and stretching. Jesse sat on your
bed, arms splayed above his head. You rolled your eyes, hands on your
hips. “And how am I supposed to get dressed with your ugly mug in
my bedroom?” You asked sweetly.
The
cowboy looked unconcerned. “I dunno. I’ve seen you damn near
shirtless before.” He dodged your jab with a chuckle. “Alright,
alright. Simmer down. I’ll wait outside for ya.” He stood and
pinched your cheeks before heading out of your room, a swift kick in
the ass earning a small yelp from him.
He
infuriated you. To no damn end. He was rude, he was crude, and
couldn’t ever take a hint.
But
you were so helplessly in
love with him. You
hated yourself for it.
You
sat on the bed, your clothes in hand. You thought back to when you
had confessed your feelings to him; a fancy dinner at his favourite
steakhouse, a moonlit walk along the docks of the water where he
liked to fish occasionally. You dressed fancy, all done up for what
you thought would be a special evening.
But
when you finally confessed your feelings, you were greeted by an
uncomfortable stare and an awkward laugh. At first he asked if you
were joking; you had to be, right? The look of guilt on his face as
you turned away, barely managing to hide your tears, was etched
forever into your mind. Since that night, you two were still close
and able to pretend like nothing happened, but the spark between the
two of you remained.
But
you ignored it. Never talked again about your true feelings for the
cowboy.
He
tried to set you up with his friends. Each and every person you
refused, claiming that they weren’t your type or something of the
sort.
But
still he tried, knowing that you still held feelings for him. He felt
guilty about not reciprocating your feelings, but he knew it would be
worse to agree to date you and not having feelings for you.
“Almost
done?” He called from outside, leaning against the doorway. You
opened the door with a scowl, crossing your arms.
“You’re
so impatient.” You walked past him to the dining hall, m0st of
Overwatch already seated. A select few were missing, due to being on
missions. Angela smiled at you and Jesse as you sat down, asking how
you slept and what you had planned for the day. You answered her
questions, yawning slightly. You ate mostly in silence, nodding every
once in a while when a question was directed at you. People began to
leave the table to start their days, and Jesse nudged you.
“What
about Genji?”
You
rolled your eyes, smoothing your hands on your pants. “Fine. Genji
is pretty nice.”
Jesse
was surprised that you had agreed, but he was thrilled either way. He
winked at you. “Great! I’ll talk to him and see if I can hook the
two of you up.”
You
nodded, taking your plate to the sink. You couldn’t help but wonder
if Genji and you would make a good couple, but you figured it
wouldn’t hurt to try. Jesse would never feel the same way about you,
so there was no point in holding out for something to happen between
the two of you. You came back and sat down with Jesse once again, who
was on his second plate of breakfast. “What does Genji like?”
Jesse
paused, considering your question. “Well, he likes that anime
stuff. And he likes swords. And meditating.” He seemed to be
struggling for things that his friend liked. “And, uh, I think he
mentioned once that he liked girls?”
You
rolled your eyes, exasperated. “I don’t know why I bothered to ask
you. You’re thick as a stump.”
“That’s
what the ladies say.”
You
stood and pushed in your chair. “You’re disgusting.” You didn’t
wait for his reply, heading back to your room. You closed and locked
the door behind you, opening your wardrobe. Inside were mostly
training clothes; nothing nice or fancy to wear on a date. You
sighed, wondering Angela or Fareeha would lend you some of their
clothes. You shook your head, deciding to go out shopping for a nice
dress. You grabbed your bag and headed out of your room, bumping into
Jesse once again. “Can’t you leave me alone?” You grumbled but
didn’t protest any further when Jesse began to walk beside you.
“Nah.
It’s fun to bother you.” He grinned. “Where ya goin’?”
“I’m
going out.”
“Where?
Why?”
“If
you must know,” You glared at him. “I’m going shopping. I.. I
want to get some nice clothes for the date.”
Jesse
raised an eyebrow at you. “Is that so?”
“yes,
that’s so.”
“I’ll
go with ya, then. Lord knows you could use the help.” He dodged the
punch you aimed at him, laughing. “I’m kiddin’. It’s just nice to
have a second opinion, you know?”
You
grumbled once again but agreed.
–
– –
The
two of you arrived in Numbani, a small list in your hand of the
things you needed to prepare for your date.
“I
think I’m going to get a small haircut.” You told Jesse, running
your hands through your hair. “My hair is kind of split at the end.
It could use a clean up.”
“Why
not dye it? I heard Genji likes green.” Jesse joked, earning an eye
roll from you.
“I’m
not dyeing my hair, and especially not green.” You responded in
annoyance, heading into the hair salon.
“You
don’t have to sit with me.” You told Jesse, know he would much
rather get a beer than spend however long your haircut would take
with you.
Jesse
arrived back just in time. You turned and smiled at him when we came
up behind you. “What do you think?” You asked, your hair cut and
neatly styled.
“It
looks nice. Genji’ll love it.” He grinned, offering you his arm.
“Shall we get you some new clothes to match your new hair?”
You
nodded, taking his arm with a small laugh. “We shall, cowboy. Pick
me out an outfit that will knock Genji off his feet!”
You
two walked to the nearby clothing shop. Immediately you flocked to
the racks of clothes, asking Jesse his opinion on what you should
wear. The two of you decided on semi-formal, and began to look for a
cute dress that would be perfect for your date. You tried on dress
after dress, Jesse either giving you the thumbs up or thumbs down.
After and hour of looking, you sighed and sat beside him glumly.
“You
know,” Jesse started, looking at you. “You could always just wear
nothin’. Men love nothin’.” He grinned, but seeing your sour look
he sighed. “Just tryin’ to lighten the mood. I’m sure you’ll look
fine in anything you wear. Besides, it’s just Genji.”
“You
don’t date much, do you?”
You
huffed, slightly annoyed with yourself. Jesse wrapped an arm around
you, rubbing your shoulders. “Hey. I know it’s frustrating, but
it’ll be fine. Don’t stress. We’ll find ya the perfect dress.”
You
nodded and resumed your search. Luckily the store you were in was
huge and had a large selection. Just as you were about to give up
hope, Jesse found a cute dress that was your favourite colour. You
beamed and instantly went to try it on. It was the perfect size,
comfortable and pretty cute as well. You exited the changing room
with it on, doing a small twirl for Jesse. “Well? How does it
look?”
Jesse
gave you the thumbs up with a smug grin. “Looks great on ya,
darlin’. Aren’t you glad that I tagged along?”
You
rolled your eyes and went back into the changing room. “I’m sure I
would have found it eventually.”
“Sure
you would have.”
You
got dressed and grabbed the dress, smiling. You couldn’t help but
feel a little giddy as your date drew closer. “Let’s go.” You
said to Jesse as you left, going to the counter to pay for the dress.
You two walked through the streets of Numbani to head back to base.
“Excited?”
Jesse asked, looking down at you.
You
nodded, a small blush dusting your cheeks. “I.. I am, actually. I
haven’t been on a date in a while and I don’t want to screw this one
up, you know?”
Jesse
nodded. “Yeah I understand. Genji’s a great guy. I bet he’s got
somethin’ fun planned, too.”
“What
time does the date start, by the way? You never told me.”
“Oh.
It starts at 6:30.”
You
stopped and stared at him. “6:30?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s
two hours away, Jesse.”
“Yes?
You’ve got plenty of time. Your hair is done and you have something
to wear.”
“Ugh!”
You didn’t speak to him the entire way back to base.
–
– –
You
met Genji just outside of base, smiling at him. You couldn’t see the
smile on his own face due to his mask, but you knew it was there. He
wore a crisp black suit with a neon green tie.
“You
look amazing, Y/N.” He breathed, offering you his arm. You took it
with a small blush.
“Thank
you, Genji.”
You
gave a small wave to Jesse as you two boarded the plane. Genji hadn’t
told you where you two were going yet, wanting to surprise you. Jesse
tipped his hat to you and watched you leave with Genji.
“You
made a mistake letting her go, Jesse McCree.”
Jesse
turned at the voice, the smile gone. Ana leaned against the wall,
looking amused.
“Poor
girl has been fawning over you all this time and the minute she gets
a date you start to have feelings for her?”
“Don’t
do that.” Jesse growled. “Don’t.. Don’t read me like I’m some
book.” He watched the plane in the distance, knowing that Genji
would take good care of you. “She.. She’ll be happier with him. It
wouldn’t be fair of me to tell her now that I like her too.”
“No.”
Ana agreed. “It wouldn’t be fair. You had long enough to tell her.
You shouldn’t have been so indecisive.”
“I’m
not going to tell her.” He murmured, kicking at the dirt. “She’s
finally happy. Finally over me. I just wish I had felt these feelings
before.”
“It
took you the span of one day to realize that you loved her?”
“We..
Hadn’t really spent too much quality time like that together before.”
He explained. “We had been on missions, spent time around base
together, gone to the bar and stuff like that, but.. She looked so
carefree. Excited. Happy.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and
gave Ana a roguish smile. “It doesn’t matter now. She’s happy and
that’s what is important to me. I’ll just have to suck it up. Maybe
next time I won’t be so stupid and let a good thing go.”
Ana
gave him a warm smile, patting his cheek.
“You
say that now, but when it comes down to it, you boys will always make
the same mistake. Over and Over.”
Jesse
rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face. “I know. But a boy can
hope, can’t he?”
He
walked back into base with her, a small sadness blooming in his
chest. He pushed it down, refusing to feel sad about your happiness.
As
long as you were happy, he was happy too.
For some reason, I envisioned Ana being part of this story even if I didn’t mention her – how funny she ended up being a part of it anyway! Must be that motherly ‘I told you, you dumb shit’ aura she gives off :’D What a bittersweet fic – thank you again for taking my commission!
Yeah, and you can also get tired of criticizing something you love. You can get completely fed up with it and decide, “You know what? Flaws aside, I love this thing, and I don’t have to waste hours of my life admitting its flaws to strangers on the Internet in order to somehow justify my love of it.” You can get sick of watching others gleefully tear it apart, for no reason other than that it’s popular and they hate that you love it. You can get sick of watching others tearing it apart with good intentions, too.
In the end, it’s just a cartoon, or a book, or a movie. It’s not that serious, and you can enjoy it without hyper-focusing on its flaws. You don’t need to justify your love of something to someone else, least of all a person you don’t even know.
I have been doing a significant amount of character research of Hanzo Shimada from Overwatch, something I preform frequently when I am interested in a character. Much of my research includes accordances among fans about his behavoir and personality, since Blizzard has not fleshed out tremedously such in canon.
This is what I found so far:
Hanzo, as well as his brother Genji, have been raised in an environment that has emphasized cultural values that today many modern Japanese, as well as other members of the developed world, recognize as unhealthy and inevitably counter-productive standards of morals. I suspect Sojiro Shimada had become aware to some level that the rules running the Shimada clan’s world were at the very best amoral, and thus tried haphazardly to shield his sons, especially Genji, from such ideals; I say haphazardly, because it more or less came across as a game of favoritism to Hanzo.
Hanzo in particular bared the brunt of his environment’s expectations; whether this was because he had a much more open ear at the sound of ‘the heir to the clan’, or because being the first son had him entirely susceptible and exposed, I am unsure. He nevertheless endured the pressure through coerced sense of pride, though in reality surviving with a suppressed emotional conscious and constantly mismatching moral convictions.
Hanzo is arrogant, a text-book perfectionist, a callous opportunist, and thus has placed himself on a very high pedestal- a nominally predictable way to cope with fear and feelings of inferiority. However, despite his large ego, Hanzo is by no means a narcissist in the technical sense. If this were the case, he would not hold such affection towards his ‘dishonored’ brother, nor his deceased father who had his own flaws. He is also an unconscious hypocrite.
Hanzo is capable of love. Hanzo is capable of sympathy, if not empathy, but driven to take both human traits as weakness, Hanzo is unable to express well nor evenly his emotional capacity for others.
Hanzo likely has a history of alcohol abuse, as well as vunerablity to sucidal idealization, depressive-onset ennui, sudden and violent emotional outbursts that are fettered by day to day agitation.
Hanzo’s perception of himself is a tower upon festered personal needs left long unmet and ignored; as such, he may be found by most anyone else but Genji as extremely uncooperative and intolerable outside of a common goal. For a love interest, he will be amiable-avoidant: he will certainly be less harsh. He may even seek intimacy – but he will inevitably reject his own attachment, leading subsequently to a sensible other dismissing his devotion, questioning his love and humanity, and invoking resentment later on down the line.
Hanzo is an extremely intelligent logisist and a talented strategist. I imagine math is his other favorite subject.
In the event of life and death, Hanzo would choose for those he cared over himself, regardless of his ego and regardless of his ‘honor’ complex.
Edit 11/26/2017, because apparently I can’t keep all of my notes together:
Hanzo’s allure to wealth and power puts him on a dubious see-saw of integrity; painfully aware of his own definition of purpose, his brother’s supposed death unsurfacing the dismissed merits of compassion and mercy deep within his person. Yet juxtaposing his individual morality is the very virtues of his upbringing, that though he has turned away from the old, intensive rights of his clan, he remains impounded by their foundations. Should he, or rather were he, be tempted to satisfy the fabricated entitlements of his blood and tradition, Hanzo may not necessarily find himself succumbing, but indeed embattled between his humanity and his self-impeached crown.
Hanzo is a practical man. Given the situation, he will not kill or injure lest it is necessary, and like wise he will lend his aid to others if politics requires it. However, outside of those he has grown close to, rarely will he act out of charity, finding it wasteful for not only himself but also for the person in need, and if it doesn’t align with his own endeavors and or benefits him in some way. In this same light, Hanzo’s practical-mindedness, along with his experience as a crime leader, makes him an excellent negotiator, off-cuff interrogator, and able to maintain his composure under significant pressure
In essence, Hanzo is an incredibly flawed character of ambiguity on all fronts, and suffers from a fair amount of internal turmoil. However, how he presents himself outwardly serves as a shell for what he is within, which exists even as he refuses to acknowledge it. Given time, pleasant relationships and plenty of shattering wake up calls, Hanzo may yet come towards his truer self.
~My Tumblr Back-Up And Stuffs~ 
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