cheetz0

Prices

✦ Sketches — from $10

✦ Flat colors — from $15

✦ Fully rendered — from $20

✦ Detailed illustrations — $70

🕒 Turnaround is usually 2–3 days, with larger illustrations taking up to 7 days.

I draw: OCs, fanart, any ships, NSFW, heavy gore

I DONT draw: Furry

Portfolio: https://www.artstation.com/cheetz0

Price sheet + TOS: https://cheetz0prices.carrd.co/

“May I?” Cole could say no. He’s refused this all the time, with everybody. You can just say nah, and they’ll drop it off. But Hanzo is polite when he asks. It makes Cole think his mama’s tiny picture would be in good hands.

“Was she lost in the war?”

Cole’s voice is barely there. He makes a small sound, close to a "yeah". Hanzo probably doesn’t dare say anything. If Cole wants to talk, he will. And turns out, Cole does.

“It wasn’t a complicated death, or heroic.” He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for more. “They bombed our town, and I survived. That’s all.”

Hanzo stays silent, and it’s somehow the most comforting thing. He’d have regretted even sitting here if he heard another one of those ‘I’m sorry's. Good to know after three decades of stealing time, he’s finally learned to find proper company.

“I think," He should just shut up. “I was meant to die then.”

Hanzo is his same statuesque self, even in the face of that. It makes him uneasy to be met with no reaction, as comforting as it sometimes is. Something in him pulls at Cole to explain it to him.

“Zurich, Albuquerque, god knows how many other ones. I keep on not dying.”Hanzo shifts in his place, nodding. “I understand.”

“What’s your story?” Cole asks because he’s admittedly curious, and it diverts attention.

Unlike everyone else he’s ever met, Hanzo hates talking. Yet this was the trick he learned before Blackwatch had to teach him: that people love talking about themselves. No need to interrogate someone when they would give it to you on a platter. This worked on everyone but Hanzo, because now he’s completely silent. And silence means he’s thinking for a way to avoid that question in his masterful way.

“She left when we were kids.” There. He just flipped the whole conversation. But it’s still something.

“Yeah?”

“She did not want to be associated with the clan.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“No.”

“Fuck.” It's all he can say between the sound of facilities humming in a hundred different tones and the sound of the ocean’s roar devouring it all. He eventually passes the bottle to Hanzo.

“Maybe you should look. You know how it went with Ana.”

“Ana?”

“Amari. Sniper. She hasn’t landed here yet, but I’m sure you recognize her.”

“I do.”

“She’s alive.”

“Interesting. You were close then.”

“Mhm. With Gabe and Jack and her. We were kind of a ragtag, fucked up kind of family. Then they all died.” He takes the bottle from Hanzo’s hand. “Except they didn’t. Ana faked her death for years," Cole continues, because once the doors open, they're hard to close. "And in Zurich,” He sighs. “I watched the building come down on Gabe and Jack. Watched them not get out of it.”

“I suppose we are both unwanted.” Cole snorts. He can’t tell if it really was Hanzo’s attempt at humor or if the bluntness came from the fact that English isn’t his first language. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“You treat it differently. Your judgment is not fair.”

Cole takes the bottle back. He's not going to listen to a life lesson, but it's worth a try. “Mm?”

“When my mother left, I spent countless nights believing it must have been because of what we had done.” Hanzo then looks him in the eyes, the faintest smirk forms on his face, and he says, “It was.” And the humor leaves his face as soon as it appeared. “None of us could have stopped it.”

“And your point is?”