Even then, he still knew one thing:

it starts out small.

And then it grows, and grows. Unlike a garden starving for drop of water, he was met with all the rain needed to make that garden grow. Bountiful, never ceasing, he was given possibly too much, and the garden was soon left unattended. It grew, far beyond its boundaries, up to the point that Hanzo was certain it would grow past his ribcage, twine vines around his ribs and crawl out of his chest.


ive had some pretty shit depressive episodes lately so i deided to do a piece of fanart for an amazing mchanzo fanfic called keep you on my side, which can be read here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8159552
its pretty good if you enjoy stuff like "two best friends raise a kid" au, angst, long-time pining and happy endings.