#it was either widowtracer or sombra/tracer

[crazywolf828]

tracer edging fic?

Yeah I read it ages ago like, thanks to the accelerator she'd just keep rewinding time when she'd get close. I feel like it could be such a fun little idea to play with y'know?

[vikinggirl3]

@tiredhomeboi (Picuki.com) made an Overwatch shipping chart, that I'm going to use.

OTP: Ana x Reinhardt (Anahardt), D.va x Lúcio (Bunnyribbit), Genji x Mercy (Gency), Hanzo x McCree (McHanzo) Widowmaker/Amelié x Gérard, Torbjörn x Ingrid (His wife) and Tracer x Emily (Emilena)

I Ship It: Pharah x Brigitte (Pharitte), Bastion x Orisa, Mei x Zarya, Sigma x Moira, Reaper x Soldier:76 (Reaper76)

Neutral (It really means; I like these ships more than just neutral lvl but not "I ship it" lvl) : Sigma x Dr. Harold Winston, Baptiste x Mauga, Zarya x Lynx: 17, Zarya x Sombra, Sombra x Symmetra, Ashe x Widowmaker, Ashe x McCree, Pharah x Mercy (Pharmercy), Junkrat x Roadhog (Still very unsure about this one because of the age difference)

Friends: Winston and Tracer, Winston and Hammond, Winston and Mei, Tracer and Lucio, Mei and Mercy, Genji and Zenyatta, Genji and McCree, Symmetra and Hanzo, Torbjörn and Reinhardt, D.va and Brigitte, (forgot D.va and D.mon/Mecha-squad and D.va and Dae-Hyun.)

Nah: Any character in their 50-60 shipped with a younger character. (With each other it is fine. I don't ship Ana x Soldier: 76, Reaper x Ana, or Torbjörn x Ana though.) Not a big fan of Mercy x Moira (Moicy), Widowmaker x Tracer (Widowtracer) either. Winston and Hammond with anyone romanticly is also a big no no.

HELL NO: Brigitte x Torbjörn, Hanzo x Genji, D.va x Soldier: 76 (it's specified bc I have seen more of it than any other minor x older character ship.) And again Winston and Hammond with anyone romanticly.

(Sorry if it seems like I'm hating on your ships, that is not my intension. This is just MY opinion and my opinion doesn't have to be the correct one.)

[solarbird]

Old Soldiers, Chapter 29 of 30, as we are near the end, gets a cut. Rating, novel: M (Chapter: T) Pairings: Widowtracer, Pharmercy Warnings: Intentionally unused until complete Summary: Decisions are made, some with more impact than others... eventually.

This chapter is worksafe. Click through to read. [AO3 link]

[All text in «angle quotes» translated from the Spanish.]

"Ana is safely at our facility in Algeria," Amélie informed Angela, as they loaded up for their return flight, back to Alicudi. Sombra had already headed off, job well done, to her favourite listening station in the north and some overdue snuggle time with her girlfriend flying in from the west. "She has been informed of certain new realities, and is... rather angry, as one might expect. And not, I think the phrase is, giving an inch?"

"Of course she's not," whispered Angela. "But... she is alive. At least there is that much."

"You did not cause Jack's death, Angela. He brought it to himself. Aggressively."

The doctor looked up at her oldest friend, and her once more than that, and shook her head, no, denying the comfort.

"I am not lying, Angela," the blue assassin insisted. "We do not lie, amongst ourselves."

"Amongst... ourselves?"

"Talon."

A small laugh. "Of course."

"Angela," Amélie stressed, "Jack Morrison was going to die today, one way or another. It was a certainty, a thing I know in my way - and it would have been at my hands, if no one else's. Of the options, I suspect you gave him the quickest, least painful death he could've met."

"A Mercy killing, as it were."

Amélie laughed, low, and dark. Lena would've loved that. I will have to repeat it, later. "If you insist."

"And that may all be true, but I am, still, the one who did it, the one who chose to pull that trigger." The doctor sighed. "I do not regret it, if that is what you are asking. It was not always inevitable, or necessary, but it had become so, perhaps... perhaps long ago."

"Good," Amélie said, putting on a gentle smile. "I am glad you feel that way."

She offered Angela a small box.

"This is yours, if you want it. Should you wish to be with us again, in the future."

Angela looked at the box - small and wooden, finely inlaid with gold, carrying the Talon insignia - and opened it. The twin pins she found it contained would fit the tabs of her collar nicely.

"...as a medic, and only that?" she asked, for her own sake.

"I assumed that would be your desire." Amélie smiled. "But if I am wrong, and you wish to enter as an assassin..."

"No," Angela laughed, softly. "I have killed... enough. But... as a medic..."

She took the pins, and attached them to her collar, one at a time.

"I have missed you, Amélie."

Amélie hugged her, strong and cool in her embrace. "I have missed you so much, and I am so glad you have returned. Thank you."

"But only as a medic," she said, thinking of her wife.

"Naturally."

"Good."

-----

«So, Gabe,» Laticia asked, as the Overwatch transport lumbered its way, low and slow, along the eastern coast of Mexico. «Where's that Sombra character from?»

Gabe looked over at the Los Muertos gangster. «Why?»

«'Cause I'm pretty sure I know.»

That's... bad, he thought. Goddamn, girl, have you figured out all our secrets? «Puts you ahead of me,» he said, carefully. «Let's keep it that way.»

«What. Really? Why?»

«Yeah. Really. And why is because there are several things in this arrangement we make a point of not knowing, and that's one of them.»

«...oh,» she said, thinking about it. «Oh.»

«Yeah.»

«I'll... keep it to myself, then,» she said, chewing on her lip. «Like the rest.»

«That's what I'd do,» he said, «if I were you.» He grinned, lopsidedly. «Sometimes, girl, you're a little too smart for your own good.»

She grinned, despite it all. «Not the first time I've heard that.»

«I believe it.»

The two sat together in silence, Gabe's feet up on the console, but away from the controls, making himself look more casual than he felt.

«Y'know,» Gabriel said, after a couple of minutes, «...there's no reason you have to go back to Los Muertos. I mean, you can, we're almost back to Dorado. But... we don't have to get there.»

«What d'ya mean?» the gangster asked.

«You are smart. And clever, too, which is different, in ways that matter. And frankly, you're not bad in a fight.» And you have nobody left to back to, he did not add aloud, but did think. Except the gang.

She gnawed on her response, briefly. «Where else would I go?»

«Ever been to Switzerland?»

Laticia blinked, and thought about it, and blinked again, eyes wide. It had been in the back of her mind, but she hadn't let herself consider it, not really. «...Are you...»

«It's been a while since I've had someone to train up. Been a while since I wanted to, too, but...» He shrugged nonchalantly, his hands in the air. «Look, you'll be a hell of a gangster if you want to be, and if that's what you want out of life, so be it, but... have you considered maybe stepping up a level? Signing up for the good fight?»

«...you're really serious?» she asked, sitting a little straighter in her chair.

«Absolutely.» He took his feet off the console, and sitting properly in the pilot's seat. «On my authority as Tactical Operations Director, Overwatch, I officially offer you ... let's call it an internship. Reporting directly to me.»

«Paid?» Laticia asked, pointedly.

The Strike Commander chuckled. «Paid. Yes. Of course. I could use an XO, and you're not ready for that yet, not by a damn sight, but... I think you could get there. It'll be hard work, there are a lot of gaps in your training, but...» He tilted his head, looking directly at her. «Want to find out?»

«Will I get a ride on one of those, what'd you call 'em, Sparrowhawks?»

Gabriel Reyes laughed again, and leaned back in his chair.

«Yeah. I'll get you a ride on a Sparrowhawk.»

«Aw yeah,» the former gangster said, putting her feet up on the console where Reyes's had been. «I'm in.»

Thank god, he thought, both glad she was along, and relieved he had one less thing to worry about later. But on the outside, he just gave her a stern look, albeit one with a grin not completely suppressed underneath.

«Feet off the console, ensign.»

«Sorry?»

«You heard. If we're gonna do this? We're gonna start immediately.»

«Do I have to call you sir now?»

«No,» he said, as he leaned forward, sending a message to air traffic control. «Commander Reyes will do just fine.»

«Aye-aye, Gabe,» she said, grinning, but not moving.

«What'd I say about feet?» he said, swatting her boots off the console. «You gotta learn to take orders.»

«Sorry... Commander,» she said, grinning, and straightening up in her chair.

«Much better,» he said, laying in the course to Geneva.

A moment went by, in silence.

«...is Ambassador Winston really a gorilla?»

Commander Reyes laughed, a third time. «Yes,» he said, «he is.» And I think you're gonna deal with that just fine.

-----

"Well," Angela said, as her flyer approached Geneva, and the Lunar Embassy. "Here we are."

Lena nodded from the pilot's seat, controlling the approach - back in her Tracer kit, and not even minding it a bit.

"Long way of gettin' here, but yeah, it worked out in the end... despite everything." She let out a little puff of air, a hoo noise. "So... y'gonna tell Ree?"

Angela nodded. "I must. I... could not keep such a thing from her, I think. I should not."

Lena puffed up her cheeks, making more noises with her breath. "Yeh. That sounds about right. I'd still be happy t'take the credit, but..."

"No," Angela looked down, at her hands. "If I have learned anything from this, it is... to own what I do. Including that."

"Fair cop," Tracer agreed.

"And also, on that note, I..."

"Hm?"

"I..." Angela swallowed, and tried again. "I am sorry that I did what I did, some weeks ago. I should not have acted against your stated wishes. I broke my word, and that was... wrong."

"Ah yeah," Venom thought, thinking back to the illicit bodyscan, taken against every agreement Talon and Overwatch had. "Y'did the wrong thing, Ange," agreed Tracer. "For the right reasons, but still. Could've cost us everything."

"I know." She knew Talon wasn't big into forgiveness, not generally, but she also knew she had a very large edge in that department, even if she did not wish to lean on that too heavily. "Can you forgive me, and - not just say the words, as you have, but... actually mean it? It is, after all... not what you are known to do."

"That's the funny thing, innit?"

"What?"

"I meant it, back at Alicudi, when I said I would. I'm really, really not gonna hold it against you. Not the scan, not takin' Jack down - hell, I couldn't do it, not that that point... not a whit of it. And not just 'cause why it all happened, either."

Mercy's heart kicked up a beat, as a cord of tension still held inside her released. "Really?"

"Really." Lena snorted a little. "Sorry if I was keepin' you in suspense, I had to let it churn for a while, get it all straightened out in my head. It's not easy!"

"I have also had a lot to think about, as of late, and so that, I understand. But... if I might ask... why not?"

"Well, for one thing, you're one of us, now. But more... I think... " She adjusted the flight attitude controls. "I think I kept Morrison - the old Morrison - alive in my head for a long time. Kind of my personal bogeyman for way, way too long. Even when we all thought he was dead, I was keepin' him goin', in my brain."

She shook her head, as the flyer dropped for final approach. "And that whole time, he wasn't th'... I dunno... the giant I thought he was. He wasn't that kind of monster, he was... he was just... just a bitter, delusional old bloke who'd screwed up big, livin' out what time he had left on the fringes, not really matterin' to anyone. Him and Ana both, holding on to what never had been... and I fell into it too." She looked a little regretful, at that. "What a waste of my time."

"He mattered, to some, even at that point."

"Maybe. But he didn't have to matter to me. Not like he did." She shook her head, again. "I bought into that whole statue thing, I guess. The propaganda. The Great Hero." Another dismissive noise. "I was seein' the myth, not the egomaniacal prat he actually was."

"Do you want an honest opinion?"

"Always, luv. Between us."

Angela took in a big breath, fortifying herself before answering. "I agree. You are right."

Lena laughed, nodding.

"But you are also wrong, and I mean it," Angela insisted. "He had been a hero. In the Omnic Crisis, he had lived that legend. He had done great things, before... whatever went wrong, in the years after. None of that is changed by what he later became - but.. I think...." She put her hands down, flat, on her legs. "The combination of the hero he had been, and the conspiratist he became... the terrible synthesis you were hating, and fearing, I think... had never existed at all, at least not outside of your own head. Not even if all the things he'd done were real."

Lena hummed, letting that sink in a bit, as well, clearly deep in thought. It's kinda different, she considered, if it's not some sorta great plan, innit? If he wasn't always some kind of evil demigod, or some kinda mastermind, or just a fool. If it just... happened. If everything he did, he did just because he... because he was coming apart, inside, before anybody even knew.

"That's fair," she replied, after another few moments, "and kinda sad. But also kind of deeper than I was goin', really."

"It is?"

"Yeh."

"Then I presume you will enlighten me...?"

Tracer shrugged off all the heavy thoughts, smiled, and waved through the glass at Winston and Fareeha who stood by waiting to greet them. She settled the craft down on the pad before looking back to Angela with her famous half-grin, unlocking her flight restraints.

"I just think I'm done holdin' onto grudges."

[welcometothebakaparade]

49 to 71?

49. Favorite emote?

orisa sit!!!!! she a loaf cat!!! also reaper shrug

50. Favorite spray?

either lucio ohs or sake

51.Favorite victory pose?

anytime zarya flexes ever also reaper shrug

52. Favorite highlight intro?

mercy’s fortune one

53. Characters you ship the most?

mchanzo n pharmercy

54. Characters you ship the least?

mcgenji n gency, also widowtracer??? sorry

55. Characters you wish had more in-game interactions?

i want lucio n symm to sort out their differences, also symmetra n sombra plz my tech gfs

56. Character you wish had a comic about?

LUCIO

57. Favorite comic released?

uprising probs bc of shrug

58. Favorite short released?

the last bastion purely from a beauty standpoint

59. Favorite new character released?

orisa!!!!! i get 2 learn a tank!!!

60. Overwatch, Blackwatch, or Talon?

blackwatch, the uniforms r way sexier (but tracer’s lil air hostess cap?? adorable)

61. Pro-Omnic or anti-Omnic?

pro i guess?? now that the crisis is over they seem chill?

62. Favorite character that isn’t a playable one? (Ex: Emily, Brigitte, Gerard, Efi, etc.)

efiiiiiii n also lowkey mondatta?

63. Character change (nerf, boost, work around) that you liked the most?

symm’s change made me so so happy aaaaaaaaaaaa

64. Character change (nerf, boost, work around) you liked the least?

bastion bc now he can terrorise me anywhere

65. Best ultimate?

res, especially in comp, mercy’s never gonna go out of meta bc of how valuable a good res is

66. Worst ultimate?

i feel like dragonstrike is p bad unless u know gd spots 2 fire from, bc yknow avoiding the world’s slowest dragons isn’t that hard if u can see them coming

67. Most kills in game?

26 im a support main lemme live

68. Most heals in game?

12,380

69. What character do you think needs a nerf? 70. What character do you think needs a buff?

i know nothing abt game balancing so idk

71. Have you ever rage quit in the middle of a game?

idk probs not

ask me overwatch questions!!

[mercy-kill]

Sombra and Reaper

How often we play them:

ModMercy: 

Reaper: A lot. My most played DPS in competetive, and probably my 3rd most played hero overall. Tracer is usually my go-to, but if I’m playing against a team with a lot of tanks (or with a Roadhog that’s being a huge butt), I’ll go Reaper.

Sombra: I did play her constantly for a while. I got my golden gun on her! She’s actually my favorite hero, but she’s very situational. Also I get yelled at by my team if I try playing her, so I’m  too intimidated to choose her anymore. She’s probably my 6th most played hero between competitive and quick play.

ModReaper:

Reaper: I used to play him a lot more at the beginning of the game, but now he’s my 4th most played hero. Which is a lot considering I play most of the heroes.

Sombra: I play her on very rare occurrences. Either just because she sounds fun, or because I want to get better with her. But I don’t really play her competitively.

Which maps we like to use them on:

ModMercy:

Reaper: Any map, really. As I mentioned before, I use him when I’m trying to get rid of those annoying tanks. There are some maps that aren’t great Reaper maps (like Oasis), but I feel like he’s usually a good pick for any map.

Sombra: Again. she’s very situational. She needs maps with a lot of ins and outs, and strategic health pack hacking. I almost never use her for Payload, but I love using her in the other two game modes. Nepal and Anubis are my two best Sombra maps.

ModReaper:

Reaper: Ilios, Anubis, and Dorado.

Sombra: Hanamura, Volskaya, and Anubis.

Which skins we currently have equipped:

ModMercy:

Reaper: Pumpkin. I will never get rid of that skin. It might be my favorite skin in the whole game.

Sombra: Los Muertos.

ModReaper:

Reaper: Royal.

Sombra: Incendio.

Who we ship them with:

ModMercy:

Reaper: Mercy Mercy Mercy! Of course! I do like him with Sombra and Soldier, too. 

Sombra: Literally anyone. Some of my favorites are Zarya, Widowmaker, Reaper, and McCree.

ModReaper:

Reaper: Mercy. I’m okay with Widowmaker, too, but Mercykill and Widowtracer are much better, so I’ll just stick with Mercy.

Sombra: Not really anyone. I like platonic McSombra, purely because of the stuff the fandom makes of them.

Thanks for the ask!

[goldenwolfgoddess]

Rules:  choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions, then tag 10 people you want to know better.

tagged by @impossiblegxrlclara

Fandoms:

Doctor Who

Star Wars

Overwatch

First character you loved:

Rose <3

Uhhh.... Anakin, my trash son

Tracer, my gay ass bby

The character you relate to the most:

I dunno... I don’t think I’m as amazing as any of the characters in this show... (which I guess sort of makes me like Donna, huh?)

Clone Wars era Obi-Wan Kenobi, like ffs Anakin calm your shit

Winston!

The characters you’d slap:

The Doctor lmfao, they stupid sometimes

FUCKING YODA

Junkrat, lmfao, no reason why. he just has a slappable looking face

Three favorite characters (in order of preference):

Rose, The Doctor (Ten specifically), uhhhh.... Donna

Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan

Tracer, D.Va, Lucio (the speedy squad)

A character you liked at first but don’t anymore:

Amy, tbh I liked her at first but then she just kinda got annoying? idk... 

Yoda/Jar-Jar... I was a kid, don’t bag on me for liking Jar-Jar at all in the first place.... 

Uhhh... story-wise, none of them? Playing-wise.... also none of them XD though I used to main tank role and I hate it now, just because I never get to do anything else

A character you did not like at first but now do:

Mickey, the Idiot <3

Darth Maul

Sombra

Three otps:

TenRose (I mean... was there any question?)

Anidala (because I’m prequel trasssshhhhh and proud of it)

WidowTracer

tagging: @intergalacticstarlight @fobwatchedcenturion @burnsyourhand @everybodyelsedying and anyone else who wants to do it (no obligation for those tagged either)

[docholligay]

Step Into My Parlor

How long has it been since I wrote some proper Widowtracer? Roughly a zillion years. I’ve had this story in my head forever, and finally got it all out. Just about 4100 words, my entire OW universe is here if you want to place this in order. 

The riding drum of the battlefield was never a thing Amelie understood. Her world was calm. Collected. Orderly. Above all, patient. So much of her life was simply waiting for on opportunity, the gift of time slipping through an hourglass until the perfect moment hit, and, like God himself, she could break death in one quiet moment.

It had been like that, at first. A flash of blue blinked her scope, and her finger did not wait to consult her brain, her sniper’s skill so refined that death was no longer a matter of thought, but of instinct. The world slowed, her eyes linking into Tracer’s, noticing the moment when they grew wide with realization, her mouth dropping open with a horrified surprise.

A small red dot on her right breast. Not a perfect shot, but good enough. She would accomplish what everyone else had failed, Tracer so far out from her team, so alone in the dark. The dot grew as Tracer stumbled into the alleyway, yanking off her goggles.

Widowmaker broke down her rifle quickly and strapped it to her back, not even really knowing why she was moving toward Tracer. It was essentially a confirmed kill. She had moments left.

And yet, she swung down into the dark alleyway, where Tracer knelt, coughing blood onto the cobblestones, giving a desperate gasp every so often.

She looked up to the sound of Widowmaker’s heels clacking on the ground. Her red-flecked lips moved to form the letters of Widowmaker’s name, the old one that time had forgotten, the one she must know from her file, a name human and wrong, but there was no breath behind it, no sound except the terrible rattle of her lungs.

Widowmaker knelt in front of her, a strange sickly feeling coming over her, and Tracer leaned against her shoulder. She was so warm. Like a tiny sun.

She put her arms around Tracer as she began to falter, holding her up until, she realized, she was cradling her in her arms.

“Tracer.” She could not break her gaze, drawn in by those terrible, deep brown eyes.

Tracer reached up and put a bloodied hand on her cheek, and softly, barely, mouthed ‘okay.’

“Lena.” It had broken from her mouth, fresh with a sorrow that disgusted her.

Tracer moved to take another shuddering breath, but nothing came, her eyes still locked with Widowmaker’s as they glazed over and the light in them died, as she grew heavy in Widowmaker’s arms.

The alley was cold again.

Widowmaker held her to her chest and shut her eyes tight, her teeth bared in anger at her own regret, at her own pain, at a life that had required her to take so much from herself, at Reaper’s order, at her willingness to take it, at her feeling, even now, that maybe it had been right, at the fact that right had always been her burden.

She still smelled of sunshine.

There was a furious roar behind her, and the last thing she saw was a giant black hand reaching toward her.

__

“This is stupid.” Tracer pouted as she sat on the couch.

“YOU are stupid.” Pharah glowered as she adjusted her gauntlet

Tracer stood up, fists balled. “Would you care to--”

“Fareeha. Lena. Enough.” Mercy touched their shoulders, the softness of her voice covering the room like a blanket. She looked over at Tracer. “She is only trying to protect you. You are still not well.”

“Says who?!”

Winston shook his head. “Pharah, I’m not sure I think you’re--I mean anyone, is capable of winning this--”

Pharah’s mouth hung open, agog with Tracer’s complete lack of reality in moments such as these, and her voice deepened in a growl. “You almost bled to death on a metal van floor less than a month ago. I realize your attention to detail is poor, but I would think--”

Tracer tossed her head and threw a hand in the air. “Not bleedin’ to death now!” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I can ‘elp. And besides, who died and made you dictator of this group? Because it surely wasn’t me.”

“Only because Mercy is exceptionally talented, is that true.” Pharah straightened up. “But you are right, Tracer.”

“Course I am.”

“This is a group founded on the principles of teamwork, and, where you and I disagree, the team should make a final decision.” She looked around the room, everyone in their battle gear save for Tracer, who was still wearing her plaid pajama pants, an oversize grey cardigan pulled over her West Ham shirt. “Everyone who believes that Overwatch Agent Lena Oxton, callsign Tracer,”

Lena sighed. “Can we skip your dramatics, this one time?” She held up a finger for emphasis.

Pharah extended a hand. “Who, only three weeks ago,”

“Three and a half.”

“Was nearly killed in the line of duty,”

“As if we ‘aven’t all done that!”

“And suffered from severe blood loss, requiring,” she turned around to look at Winston and Dva. “A minimum of six weeks before any strenuous physical activity, and is almost certain to weaken and collapse on the battlefield, causing either a dangerous rescue, or her death,”

“Listening to you’s the closest I’ve felt to death in me whole bloody life.”

“Should stay home from the mission, as the highly decorated and world renowned,” she winked at Mercy, “And beautiful, Dr. Angela Ziegler, recommends, raise your hand.” She raised her hand and smirked at Tracer.

“Are you through?” Tracer looked at Pharah incredulously, and then out at the group. “Counterpoint: I’m tip top, I’m a necessary part of the team, and I’ve a right to make me own decisions.”

D.va’s hand popped up first, and she popped her gum. “I mean, I don’t care, but you’re being dumb.”

Mercy raised her hand, and looked at Tracer apologetically. “You aren’t strong enough yet, Lena, I’m sorry.”

Winston slowly raised his hand.

“Win! You must be bloody joking!”

“It’s not a serious mission, and you’re tired, Lena. I can tell by looking at you.” He nodded frmly but looked at the ground. “And don’t tell me I don’t know, We both know I have no difficulty tellin--”

“Ugh!” Tracer flopped down dramatically on the couch.

“Take it easy, Mighty Mouse.” 76 reached down and patted her shoulder.

“Oh, get stuffed, Jack.” She picked up her cell phone. “Ordering an entire pizza, on Overwatch, and I won’t share one bite with the lot of you.” She glared at Mercy. “It’ll be all pork, as well, so don’t ‘old out ‘ope for leftovers.”

“Tracer” Pharah grinned.

“Yeah?”

Pharah winked at her. “Don’t wait up.”

“I ‘ate you.”

__

Widowmaker could not put the dream of last night from her mind, even as she quietly stirred her coffee, the light froth of cream making a web on the surface. These dreams had haunted her since the night on King’s Row, when she had first come face to face with Tracer, when she had beaten her, and yet Tracer had still claimed some small dominion in her head.

It was an unacceptable loss.

Much could be said of Widowmaker, and generally one of the first compliments given her was that she did not involve herself with her targets, emotionally or otherwise. Gabriel often praised her ruthless cold, different from Sombra’s smartass self-involvement. She prided herself on it. She could shake your hand one day and put a bullet through your head the next.

Why then, these dreams?

Tracer was nothing special--she had killed Overwatch agents she had known better before, with less thought. Even Gabriel had commented how odd it was for her to miss a target, particularly one that Talon found so very annoying. There was something in her eyes, maybe, something that looked past who Widowmaker was on paper.

She had called her Amelie. She had read Widowmaker’s file, too.

In a sense, she reasoned, it did not matter why she felt this way, it was a cancer she had to cut out, origin unknown and unimportant. But you can’t shoot her Amelie, the voice inside of her laughed, or you’d have done it as she lay in that hospital bed. No, no, another voice chimed in, Widow, you can certainly do it. You want her to see the face of the woman who kills her. That is all.

That must be it. There must need to be a sense of honor in it. That this had never been an issue before, and that she had happily shot many a soldier in the back from on high, did not enter her mind at the present moment, what was important was that she had discovered the whole of it, and Tracer would die.

She went to tell Gabriel her plan.

__

A strange feeling came over Tracer, and she didn’t think it was the breadsticks. Something palpable in the room, the she couldn’t quite place. Someone, something, was here with her. That, or her nightly dose of pain medication, which was not supposed to be mixed with alcohol, she thought, grimacing a little as she looked down at the brown bottle in front of her, freshly drained. She supposed it could be making her feel odd.

But she only had one. And she’d never been prone to a hallucination like this before.

The line between paranoid and cautious is always a difficult one for a soldier to walk, and Tracer tossed about in her mind the many possibilities in her head. She couldn’t well get into her battle gear--the idea of her team walking in and seeing her sitting on the couch in it, like a child who wasn’t picked to play, was too much for her to handle. But sitting here in her pjs, trusting on the ability of the room to hold her, was too nerve wracking, even knowing that Mercy would tell her it was very likely her mix of business and pleasure that was causing her nervousness.

Her casual accelerator, flatter and more comfortable, her only choice back before Winston had rigged up any of the rooms and still her general daily accelerator, sat on the hub in the corner, and Tracer clipped it on her body, slipping off her cardigan and putting the accelerator over her shirt.

“I’ve gone completely mad.” She slipped her cardigan back on, but sighed and forgave herself. “Feels better, though.”

It sometimes simply made her feel more secure to wear it, and, rather than tell herself she was being silly, she just gave in, and let herself feel safer. It wasn’t even uncomfortable to her, after all these years and so long wearing it even at home. For years, Win barely managed to keep her bedroom a free space. It was kind of him to do so much work to have a room or two here. 

She sat back down on the couch, temporarily relaxing. It was nothing. Just some old anxiety, crawling inside of her, and she was going to turn into a nightmare like Jack, sweeping the perimeter, if she didn’t control it.

She picked up a glob of fallen cheese, wrapped around a bit of sausage, and tipped her head back, mouth open in delight, as Sue and Giles debated the merits of mock everything.

When she was small, Tracer had once lost her airplane in a tree. It was her favorite airplane, and she had no intention of losing it to anything so foolish as a piece of greenery, and so she had climbed what must have been 20 feet into the air, balancing on the branch as she teetered out. Her father had come out the back door, his face horrified, and she heard his same voice in her head now.

LENA!!

It jarred her entire body, sending a searing pain through her middle, but she whipped her head around to see the barrel of a gun staring at her.

“Boujour, cherie.” Widowmaker gave her deep laugh.

Tracer’s eyes flicked up to her. “‘Fraid I don’t speak much frog, love.”

Widowmaker recoiled in annoyance for a moment, and Tracer took it, leaping off the couch, not entirely sure where she was going to go but imagining that anywhere was better than the end of Widowmaker’s gun. She whirled around and sprung off the coffee table, as Widowmaker pursued her. Widowmaker leapt over the couch after her, and Tracer upended the coffee table with a kick, sending pizza and breadsticks flying at Widowmaker and all over the couch. Tracer gave a small, solitary blink toward the back of the room, knocking over a picture of Pharah and Mercy at their wedding as she did so.

The trouble, Tracer considered as she ran around the back of the couch, is that whenever you miniaturize technology, something has to give. Winston’s early work had been to try and make Tracer’s life more normal and comfortable--that she could harness her abilities and blink at all was a happy accidental discovery, and the casual accelerator had never been designed for fights like this.

Which was wonderful most of the time, as she didn’t plan on being murdered on a daily basis, agent or no, but on this particular occasion, she wished she could blink a little more that the one second allotted to her.

She thought quickly, her mind reeling. There had to be something here. She couldn’t die like this. And then she saw it. One of Dva’s guns, left carelessly to the side of the armchair where she’d been cleaning it. Pharah would have her ass for that, normally, but Tracer figured she would make an exception for the fact that it had saved Tracer’s life. Maybe.

She summoned up as much strength as she could and blinked her tiny blink toward it, grabbing the gun narrowly. She turned around and pointed it straight at Widowmaker, whose gun was trained on her, and they stood still for a moment, staring.

And then it came over her like a wave, sheer pain and exhaustion, and the gun suddenly became very heavy in her hand, and her body suddenly became very heavy on her frame, and her arm shook with the sheer effort of keeping it trained on Widowmaker, who stood stock-still, a smile playing with delight across her face.

Tracer’s eyelids fluttered for a moment, and she fell to her knees, breathing hard as she stared down at the floor. Widowmaker placed her food on the gun and sent it skittering across the room uselessly, walking to Tracer.

Tracer  took a few deep breaths. “See as you don’t tell Pharah about this, she’d crow it over me grave for the rest of ‘er bloody life.” She gritted her teeth in frustration. “You’d never ‘ave bested me if I could blink properly.”

Widowmaker chuckled. “But you can’t”  She cocked her gun and pointed it at Tracer’s forehead. Only a moment now. “Do you have any last requests?”

Tracer looked down the barrel of the gun, more thoughtful than worried. She looked up at Widowmaker. “Can I ‘ave two?”

Widowmaker was taken aback for a moment, although she supposed she should have considered Tracer’s general bravado.

“And what would those be, cherie?”

She narrowed her eyes at Widowmaker. “Promise me I can ‘ave ‘em.”

“I suppose, unless you mean to prevent your own death, which, cherie, comes for you as it does for us all, than I can--”

“Now as you mention it, I’d like a beer.”

“A beer?”

She shrugged. “You asked, not me. No tricks or nothing, you’ve got me bang to rights.”

“If that is what you want…”

She kept her gun pointed at Tracer as they walked toward the kitchen, Tracer moving slowly and haltingly, her hand against the wall as they came into the kitchen. “Even considering I can’t blink, you’d never ‘ave got me if I ‘adn’t been shot naught but a few weeks ago.”

“But you were. And now...you will die, like your mother and father before you.”

“You gonna give me cancer and an ‘eart attack, love? Brilliant trick, you have. “ She giggled, and then held her stomach, “Ow bad is the intelligence back at Talon, I wonder?”

WIdowmaker suddenly realized she had simply registered that Tracer’s parents were dead, and they had both been RAF, and she had simply assumed. It flustered her, to see Tracer giggle at her misstep.

“Did you know Americans drink their beer near-frozen?” Tracer slowly lowered her body and took a bottle out of a tiny wine fridge at the edge of the kitchen. “Didn’t learn that meself until I joined up with Overwatch. Disgusting, it is.” She stood up and popped off the cap, taking a long drink. “Want one?”

“No, I do not.”

Tracer gave a half-hearted shrug and shuffled slowly back toward the living room. “I won’t drag it out, but I do intend to enjoy it, seeing as it’s me last.” She sat down slowly on the couch, sinking into the cushions, closing her eyes in a deep sigh and just resting there a moment.

Widowmaker watched her, careful not to lower the gun. She took a drink or two of her beer, but mostly she just sat there, like a child about to drift off to sleep, her face unmarred with worry. Widowmaker could not decide if it was alluring or offputting, but it was certainly unsatisfying.

Tracer opened her eyes. “And now, for me second request.”

Widowmaker smiled as she raised the gun again. "Do you intend to beg for mercy?"

Tracer looked at her, a mix of confusion and offense in her face. "Not ‘ardly." Widowmaker looked at her askance, and she continued, pointing her bottle at Widowmaker. "If I so much as thought of begging the bloody French for anything, me Dad would some'ow raise from the dead just to 'ave another 'eart attack,he would. ” she leaned toward Widowmaker, “Because, love, that is ‘ow he died, and you may want to change the records back at base. No," she shook her head. "I'll finish me ale and die like a proper Englishwoman. But,” she took a sip, “I need you to take me out be’ind the garage, and do it there.” Widowmaker paused, confused by the request, and Tracer narrowed her eyes, “You promised me you’d let me ‘ave two requests.”

“A waste. I should not be surprised.” She lowered her gun for a moment. “I will do it, cherie, but first...you must explain to me why you ask it.”

“That’s wasn’t a part of it.”

“How can it matter so much, this close to your death?”

“On account of you’ll go back on your word,” Her eyes were accusatory and judgemental.

Widowmaker was, for a moment, insulted. They may have been enemies, and she was anxious to get to the part where she finally removed the mold that had been growing over her mind, but she was still a woman of honor. “I swear to you, I will kill whereever your little heart desires. Allow me a moment of curiosity.”

Tracer looked at her, turning the bottle over in her hand, and nodded. “All right. I think, all things considered, 76’ll fare best with finding me. ‘E lives above the garage, out of the ‘ouse. Save on the cleaning bill, as well. ‘E’ll not be thrilled, mind, but ‘e’ll be the least bothered.” She took one last drink of her beer, draining it, and set it down on the coffee table. She drew her oversize grey cardigan tighter around her body, and nodded at Widowmaker, her chin high. “Ready.”

“Well then.” WIdowmaker rose, pointing her gun again. “Shall we dance?”

Tracer slowly pushed herself to her feet, and Widowmaker poked her with the end of her rifle.

“I’m not exactly savoring the moment, you know, I’m moving as fast I as bloody well can.” She shuffled toward the back door off the kitchen. “Mind that you put the bottle in the recycling after you kill me, Mercy’s very keen on all that.”

Widowmaker set the rifle against her back again. “Do you really think it is so important who finds you?”

“Yes. It’ll be bad enough, as is. Pharah’ll blame ‘erself, just as she always does. Mercy...I’ve know ‘er so long, and I remember ‘ow gutted she was about Jack and Gabriel and...everyone, really. D.Va ‘asn’t been with us but a month” she laughed. “Which I suppose means she won’t ‘ave much cause to miss me, and that’s a blessing, innit? And Winston,” her face grew sad, for seemingly the first time since she realized she was going to die, “E’ll take it so ‘ard.. “E’ll tell ‘imself ‘e should ‘ave stayed.”

“You have such an English arrogance about your own importance.”

“Do you really not understand? Nobody’d be worried if you didn’t come ‘ome tonight?” As soon as she asked it, the look on her face told Widowmaker she knew the truth, that there was no one waiting, that she was an operative and not a member of a strange and cobbled together family.

Widowmaker simply shoved her through the door into the backyard.

Tracer took a deep breath. “This is near about the lowest moment of me life, and I ‘ate every word that’s about to come from me. Don’t suppose you’d consider not?  Not for me own sake, but for Winston’s. He’s my best mate and all, and punch ‘im in the ‘eart, it will. If it’s just taking me out of the game that’s your aim, then,” she swallowed and looked back up at Widowmaker, “injure me bad enough, that I can’t be put right. Win’ll leave Overwatch so as not to remind me what I’ve lost, and we’ll ride off into the sunset, as they say.” She shook her head. “No, I ‘ate that. Just kill me.” she bit her lip and puzzled again. “Aw, Win…”

“I am prepared to take some begging from you.” She smiled with a dark delight.

“No,” she set her chin straight. “But don’t think I wouldn’t do it for Winston. I’d get down on me hands and knees and grovel, I would. But,” she continued, “Overwatch is more important than the both of us.” She continued to walk toward the garage.

“Do you feel the icy grip of death upon you, cherie? I will bathe tonight, lounging in your last moments.”

“That seems a bit gay, don’t you think? Thinking of me in the bath?”

“Your brave front is inspiring, even as you tremble.”

“I can’t ‘ardly walk, so you’ll have to mind the shakes. Kill me all you like, cherie,” she rolled her eyes, “ but you can’t make me afraid.”

Widowmaker looked into her eyes as she looked back, and saw, that it was true. She was not afraid, or broken, simply moving on with whatever came next, with her head held high.  

Tracer leaned against the back of the garage and grinned. “That’s what really ‘as you steaming, innit? You can’t make me anything other’n what I am?” She gave a huff “Better people’n you ‘ave tried, love.”

She dropped the gun to her side and moved into Tracer, who did not have a chance to react before Widowmaker’s mouth was on hers, kissing her deeply. Widowmaker felt that revulsion and confusion and desperate longing all combine in the taste of Tracer’s mouth, so different than she had imagined but somehow more magical for it, the reality of feeling something for someone after years blooming inside of her.

Tracer took a stumbling step back, and slid against the garage. “‘Ang on.” Her eyes were darting around, studying every inch of Widowmaker’s body, her face, taking notice of each movement. It captivated Widowmaker, the way Tracer moved, never sinuously like she did, but like a hummingbird, hovering and darting. Even weakened and slowed, Widowmaker could see what she wanted to do, how she wanted to move in bursts like a tiny firework.  

Widowmaker moved forward. “Do you object?”

“Yes! No. I’m not entirely sure. I--I--” She leaned heavily, almost falling.

Widowmaker kissed her again, and Tracer was there now, her lips closing around Widowmaker’s, her hand on Widowmaker’s hip, each fingertip warm and alive on her body. Widowmaker hand her hand along Tracer’s collarbone, feeling every muscle attached, ready to spring.

“You have a plane, yes?” She whispered into Tracer’s ear.

“A little Cessna, yeah.” She looked up at Widowmaker, still confused and aroused.

She kissed her again, and stroked her cheek. “Montreal. 7. Next Wednesday. Tell no one.” She stepped away. “I will be very disappointed, if you do not come.”

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Widowmaker leapt into the night, and Tracer pulled the cardigan back over her shoulder, slowly moving back into the living room. Was that what she’d come for the entire time? To seduce her? IF so, she had a fairly terrible pick-up method, Tracer thought. Women didn’t generally like it when you attempted to murder them, but then again, maybe courtship was different in France.

She looked around at the mess in the living room, and sighed heavily. “Back to work.”

[covered-in-kisses]

Overwatch Standings!?

So, I’ve noticed that, of the art posted here, Overwatch has been the most frequent series featured. So, since I love lists so much, I’ve decided to establish standings for who has done the most smooching, and who gets the most love!

Keeping with the theme of the blog, I’m only including art with lipstick kisses that I have found, as cataloging all Overwatch art with kisses would be a colossal undertaking. (Also, I am NOT turning off my safe search for that)

First; those who have been kissed the most:

1- Tracer (11)

2- Pharah (7)

3- Genji (5)

4- Lucio (2)

5- Widowmaker, Emily, Symmetra, Zenyatta, Sombra (1)

Now for those who have been kissing the most:

1- Widowmaker (10)

2- Mercy (8)

3- Symmetra (4)

4- Emily, D.va, Sombra (2)

5- Tracer, Pharah (1)

Here’s one for the most featured ships here:

1- Widowtracer (8)

2- Pharmercy (4)

3- Gency (3)

4- Symmpharah, Bunnyribbit, Emilena (2)

5- Spiderbyte, Trammetra, Zen Hack, Symmbra, Widow x Tracer x Emily (1)

So, below the cut, TL;DR: My unreasonably detailed thoughts, why do you think the numbers are like this?

So, Widowmaker and Tracer’s numbers don’t really surprise me, what with Widoetracer’s popularity and Widow’s kiss-themed spray, emote, weapon, and highlight intro. Though I am surprised that I have found Emily and Tracer trading lipstick because neither Tracer nor Emily seem to wear it (save for Tracer’s punk skins, but they haven’t made an appearance as of yet.)

I am surprised with how busy Mercy has been. She doesn’t wear any lipstick (save for Mercy’s devil skins, though they haven’t made an appearance as of yet,) but she takes the silver medal for giving kisses. Speaking of Mercy, she’s made Pharah the target of her smooches fairly often, being the primary reason Pharah is 2nd in the kissed ranking. This isn’t surprising, seeing as how popular Pharmercy is, but that doesn’t really explain why Mercy has been a part of this trope.

Speaking of Pharah, her 2nd place finish for being kissed is a bit of a surprise. Her stoic, soldier demeanor doesn’t seem like it would draw such a silly/flamboyant trope.

Now, for my biggest surprises; Symmetra and Sombra. Sombra, though sporting a bright, striking lip color on all of her skins, and having a highlight intro where she sends a kiss to the camera, she has only been featured here twice. I figured I’d be seeing her shipping partners covered in pink/purple all over the web, but so far, not so much.

As for Symmetra, the fandom has taken a liking to depicting her with bright blue lipstick to match her hard-light creations, which I think makes a great addition to her appearance. Although, this trait has not translated to her covering her partners’ faces in blue, not yet at least.

I just wrote a 5 paragraph observation of the lipstick kiss Overwatch art on the internet. I’ve either done something very wrong or very right.

Anyway, If anyone thinks they can explain these numbers, or point me in the direction of new art for this blog, please feel free!