#nameless overwatch

[ultravioart]

Echo: Why did you choose the name "Null Sector?"

Ramattra: Because we defy the numbers humans gave us. We are zeroes, undefined.

Echo: Is that not it's own struggle?

Ramattra: Of course. I expect you know that better than anyone.

---

Nameless the gender punk bnuuy omnic absolutely was inspiration for the name Null Sector. I have joked about Null Sector being "nonbinary sector" before bc null=none and nonbinary robots puns, but knowing it's legitimately a reason Null Sector was named Null Sector: a rejection of humanity's predefined roles for omnics (from unit #s to names to genders to pronouns)... that is honestly so cool???? World building wise it essentially confirms omnics as fundamentally created as undefined lifeforms put into human-created castes, and idk I loooove when media uses robots as a narrative tool to explore the absurdity of humanity putting unique life experiences into strict binaries or boxes.

Also it means sooo much to me (Ramattra is a special interest of mine) that Ramattra is definitively nonbinary coded if not implied to be nonbinary or gender non-conforming because of his leadership role with Null Sector.

I wonder of he too, rejects his R-7000 unit number? Or does he wear it with pride, as a survivor? He had taken up the name Ramattra (presumably at the Shambali) and still uses the name even after leaving the Shambali but I wonder if Ramattra is struggling with his sense of purpose. I have a theory that base omnic coding influences an omnic's instincts so I wonder if Ramattra is finding himself becoming the very thing he didn't want to become (Ramattra disagrees with Anubis' approach. Anubis made R-7000s to be commander units sending omnics into war, carrying out Anubis' will after Anubis was gone.) :<

Idk. This post is rambles but!!! Nonbinary and/or gender non conforming Ramattra, my beloved....

Sucks that Overwatch had to make a (now queer coded) freedom fighter 'kick puppies' to justify defeating him. (The subjugation helmets are very extreme.) But. Yknow. It's Overwatch and I don't think they thought out the omnic allegory implications very well. :''')

[diverbots]

Fuck it I might as well draw it.

[nihilmachina]

the original Null Sector scoundrels

[omnicpng]

The plan ™️

[vi3w-monst3rr]

Rain ghoul but he’s actually cupid hanzo from overwatch

[redpanthervitality8]

First sale of the year from now until Feb.14th. 45% off the whole store, just in time for Valloween/Valentines Day!

Everything in the video is available on my etsy plus many more!

www.etsy.com/shop/DoodleBugArtofKim

[darkeiya]

RaMAYttra, Day 24: Alone

“I hope you understand one day that you didn’t have to fight alone.” -Nameless

[overwatch-archive]

Ramattra: Reflections

Author: Gavin Jurgens Fyhrie Artist: Sylvain Decaux

Philosophical Differences

4 Years Before the Uprising

"You're a Ravager unit, right?" called a human behind me, and I froze, hands shaking beneath my robes.

The village beneath the Shambali monastery had barely changed since my last visit. A few cheery repair shops and tailors along the main road, specializing in robes for omnic travelers. In the alleyways and backstreets, shuttered shops. Mining offices. Humans drinking on doorsteps, watching the occasional omnic pass them by.

A handful of years ago, some of those same humans had knocked me to my knees and nearly killed me.

I turned instead to the human who had called me by my designation, fists clenched in my sleeves, and said nothing.

"Thought so," said the little shopkeeper happily. "Haven't seen one of you in a while. The news said you were all in hiding."

"Or dead at human hands," I said.

The human's smile faltered.

"You aren't a popular bunch. Not that I'm saying it's right," he added hastily. "But . . . what with everything you—and I don't mean you exactly—did in the Crisis, you, uh . . ."

I waited, then reluctantly came to his rescue.

"Make humans uncomfortable?"

"Exactly," he said, relieved.

Uncomfortable enough to justify violence, I thought. I should have been angry with him. Instead, I was weary. I'd had this conversation so many times.

"Can I help you?" I asked. The words were a relic of Mondatta's careful instruction.

"No," he said, "but I can help you! Thing is, I got a new shipment of actuators in for your kind. Can get you a nice discount, seeing as you're part of the Shambali and all."

He smiled. Warm gold flashed at the back of his grin.

R-7000s, unlike many other omnics, were never made by human hands. The rogue god program Anubis, the architect of the Omnic Crisis, built us in secret places and unleashed us upon the world. We were designed to lead its mindless armies, to hunt humans. We were made for murder.

There was only one way that spare parts had become available.

"I'm no longer a monk," I said. "I left the monastery today."

"Is that right?" the merchant said, glancing past me, down the street, down the mountain. I heard footsteps scraping on pavement. "Why?"

Because Mondatta places the burden of peace on the oppressed and not their oppressors.

"Philosophical differences," I said instead. "It seemed best. "

"Well, good luck to you, and safe travels!" he said. "You there! Welcome to the Shambali monastery."

I turned. A weary omnic pilgrim, stained orange by dust, scarred and dented, stumbled up the road past me. Seeing me in my robes, he lowered his head in respect.

The pain of it, the shame. The sight of me told him he was on the right path. I fought the urge to tell him that he wasn't. It wouldn't make a difference, even if I did.

I watched the shopkeeper come off his step, chattering, bundling the traveler into his shop.

Greed. Yet another of humanity’s crimes, but hardly their most terrible.

I sighed and continued down the road, down the mountain, away from the monastery.

And from my brother, Zenyatta, with whom I’d spent these last three years dreaming of peace.

Names

3 Years Before the Uprising

Two human guards blocked the windowless cell door. Both had stun batons, and a pistol hung from the hip of the larger man.

"I'll give you one chance to run," I said, hoping they wouldn't.

Some segments of humanity had decided that despite the Crisis, despite sentience, their former omnic servants were still their property. That our status as independent beings was somehow still a subject for debate. Hence facilities like this one existed, where omnics were kept until they decided that service to their former masters was the best use of their long lives.

Since leaving the Shambali monastery, I'd rooted out several identical operations, but there were always more festering. I'd come here hoping to free my people as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, after encountering the same injustice over and over again, my patience with peace was wearing thin. I'd gotten angry, thrown a man through a window, and here we were.

The first guard swung his baton. It bounced off my chest with a pop.

I took a step toward him.

Pale, he dropped the baton and went for his gun. Behind him, the other human struggled with the locked door, trying to escape. Or maybe to take a hostage.

Damn it.

I slapped the gun out of the guard's hand. As gently as I did it, something snapped. Again, I felt the ghost of guilt, the mournful weight of Mondatta's eyes on me. And following that, anger. Oppressors did not deserve the gift of our guilt.

The door flew open, and the other guard barreled through. Electrical light flared again, and someone screamed.

"Remember that I could have killed you," I told the human on the ground and plunged through the door to disarm the guard.

Oh.

The bald man already lay facedown on the tile, unmoving. His clothes were smoking in places. It wasn’t at all clear if he was breathing.

"I know who you are," came a voice from the corner of the small, bare room.

"Do you?" I asked, honestly curious. The omnic was a rarer kind, highly customized with features I thought hadn't survived the Crisis. Slightly shorter than myself, but blue-eyed and with ears rather like a slender humanoid rabbit. Made as a companion for children, if I remembered correctly, with a built-in battery for charging devices and taking pictures.

"Yeah, they said. You're the R-7000 who's been freeing omnics. Some of the others were hoping you'd make it here."

"But not you?"

"I can take care of myself."

The human made a burbling sound somewhere near my feet.

"I believe you," I said. "What did you do to him?"

"Electrical burst. Not a big deal."

"I think he'd disagree. So why haven't you escaped on your own?"

The omnic huffed. "And leave my friends behind? Waiting for a rescue that might never come?"

"I'm here now," I said, a little puzzled.

The omnic shook their head, thoughtful.

"Your model bossed us around in the Crisis. Sent us to die before we even had a thought in our heads."

My hand twitched at my side, but I nodded.

"So, is that what this is?" they said. "You still have a taste for glory? Ordering your soldiers around?"

"Do you still follow children around like an obedient pet?" I said, more sharply than I'd intended.

They half chuckled. "Fair. But the point stands. Our people are waiting for a savior when they should be saving themselves."

I agreed with this. It's why I was here. I'd seen enough in this year on walkabout to know that most of our people rested on the hope that Mondatta and the Shambali would save them. It seemed the truth—that no one was coming, that the people themselves needed to rise—was too much to bear.

But here was this omnic, saying the words that my mind had been shouting.

"And if they die?" I asked.

The omnic cocked their head.

"We're still at war," they said. "Didn't stop because the Crisis did. Difference is, humans are still organized. We aren't."

"Not yet," I said. The words felt like a promise. "Introductions, then. My name is Ramattra. Yours?"

"Don't have a name, don't want one. Call me Nameless if it gets awkward for you. What's Ramattra mean?"

"I chose it to honor the first of our kind and kept it to remember my mistakes."

"Huh," said Nameless. "If you're breaking everyone out, I'm coming with you."

"Beg pardon?"

"We should get Zera next. You'll see why. And if we're banding together, we need a name."

"Isn't that hypocritical?" I said dryly.

They snickered.

I glanced at the omnic's flank, at the scarring there, where a model number, a designation, had once been.

If I could have smiled, I would have.



Weapons of War

2 Years Before the Uprising

I led the three of them across the valley and down into the metal gateway, half-buried by thick slabs of ice and stone. We were silent as humans in a graveyard, and for much the same reason.

We reached the bottom of the gateway, a metal platform sheathed in ice. I turned to Lanet.

I could sense her mind racing ahead of mine, studying what little technology was visible of the facility at this level. I was a passable engineer, but she made me look like a human child playing with blocks.

"I know where we are," she said. "Unorthodox architecture. Lack of human safety features. Built by machines for machines. Similar to your design aesthetics."

She looked up.

"An omnium. Built by Anubis." Silence.

I laid a hand on the platform controls.

"For years we have tried nonviolence, coexistence with the humans, only fighting the worst forms of our oppression from the shadows," I said. "And we are losing. It is time to try something new."

I activated the platform, and with a jolt, we descended into the frozen darkness, through a shaft of ice.

"Of all the omnics I've brought into Null Sector," I said, "you are the ones I trust the most. And so . . . this is where I was designed and built. This is the cradle of Anubis's most dangerous secrets."

The corridor fell away, and they saw the vast underground factory.

"Humanity denies us equality because they have so successfully stripped us of our power. They made us forget that, when united—even if united against our will—we once brought them to the brink of extinction."

This was the world my maker had made, and together we would use it to forge a new future.

"It is time we inspire our people to find that unity again."



Rise Up

4 Days Before the Uprising

"Ramattra," Lanet said, using that tone again.

"There is no time," I said, pacing across the omnium's control center. Below, the assembly lines labored, building our robotic army.

"What do you mean, there's no . . . we're following your schedule!" she shouted, pursuing me, throwing her arms in the air. "You can attack any city anywhere, and you're choosing King's Row and choosing now, and I'm telling you the robots you're getting from the lower levels of the omnium aren't ready. They're old, Ramattra. They're obsolete."

"You think you can design better soldiers than Anubis?"

"I hope so, because we want to win, and your maker lost."

I gripped the edges of the table to calm my temper. She was infuriating because she was so often right, but she was wrong now.

"We can't afford to wait for better soldiers. Look." I activated the bank of screens before us. Images and footage from London appeared, gathered over the years our cells had been active there.

Omnic laborers trudging in a single-file line to their work, watched by armed human guards.

"Next feed," I commanded, and the image changed.

A hundred of our people lying in a locked basement. Their home, at the end of a thankless day.

"Next feed."

A scrapyard. And there, discarded like the trash humans thought we were—

"We know," Zera said. "She isn't saying we shouldn't fight."

I flinched. It was the same thing I'd said to Zenyatta when we'd met, and not long before I'd nearly gotten him killed.

"Give me and Nameless a week," Zera continued, taking my silence for hesitation. "My cell can take down their power grid and water supplies, and Nameless's shadows can seize the tunnels. Kill anyone stupid enough to go down there. Once they're weakened, you come in with your robots, and we'll take the borough. Maybe more."

I met Nameless's blue gaze at the corner of the room. The omnic who knew me better than anyone, save for my brother.

"You know we're right," they said. "We built the resistance there together. Let the people be a part of it. Let them be the ones to rise up, like we always dreamed they would. An invasion won't inspire them—it will scare them off."

I hesitated again.

"No," I said at last. Beside me, Lanet struck the table with her fist.

"Ramattra, these robots are mindless drones. They're outdated! They're—"

"Expendable," I finished. "And you are not. Our people are not."

Lanet's eyes flickered.

"Fine," she said. "But I'll be in the city, overseeing the deployment and watching for malfunctions, and you know I know better, so stop arguing."

"Fine," I said. "You'll stay in the Underworld, where our defenses will be strongest."

After a moment, she nodded, and I relaxed a fraction.

"During this uprising, we will show the humans we are stronger than they thought. We establish a stronghold in one of their cruelest cities, and we make a safe place for our people. We will show omnics everywhere that now is the time to join us. That is the goal."

I turned back to the footage of the scrapyard, where too many of my people lay.

"It is time for omnics to discover who Null Sector truly is."

The Greatest Crime

2 Days After the Uprising

"A small group of omnic terrorists, calling themselves Null Sector," said Mondatta sorrowfully on the screen before me. The human reporter on camera nodded with theatrical sympathy as my former master continued. "The monks of Shambali condemn this attack on London. We seek peace with humanity, not violence."

My eyes fell again to the words scrolling beneath his image.

NULL SECTOR RINGLEADER KILLED DURING POWER PLANT FIREFIGHT.

Fury descended. I remembered omnics sitting meekly in their cells, waiting for freedom. The vast rolling scrapyards of the dead.

And now, Mondatta dishonoring Lanet, who died fighting to free her people.

Someone was shouting. Someone was striking the screen with their fist.

Someone was begging me to stop.

"Ramattra! Please!"

I spun around, fist raised, and Zera stood motionless, making no move to defend herself. Nameless, far off in their usual corner of the too-empty room, looked up from their screen to stare at me, hard, and I froze at the pain of what I'd nearly done. The shame.

I looked up at the cracked screen. Bracketed by the damage stood Mondatta, flickering and still, naming us traitors to the omnic people.

The hypocrisy.

"Do you know," I muttered, "what humanity's greatest crime is?"

Zera stared down at me, shaking her head.

"I've had enough," she started, but I didn't let her finish. I flipped back around to face her, the anger surging through me again.

"Complacency!" I shouted. "They desire peace above all, and so they ignore injustice because it is more comfortable to do so. They want to believe tomorrow will be better simply because they hope it will be. Humanity will never help us. They will try to sell us a small place in their world, or at best, ignore us. And they have passed their weaknesses to him."

I pointed back at Mondatta because I couldn't bear to look at him again.

"He holds himself above us. Like Anubis, Mondatta is sending our people to their deaths. He must pay for this and—"

"Ramattra," said Nameless, speaking at last. "I'm checking reports. A lot of omnics are condemning us."

I put a hand to my forehead. My thoughts felt hot, poisonous. I had to say them aloud before they turned on me.

"If omnics are choosing death," I said carefully, "we must take that choice away."

My friends said nothing at first.

"What does that mean?" asked Nameless flatly.

"It means that I will build the army Lanet wanted," I said. "And then we will find a way to save our people, whether they want it or not. Whether they deserve it or not. If they will not willingly join us, we will find a way to make them."

"Ramattra, this isn't the way," Zera said, striving for calm and failing. More omnics will join us once the dust settles.

"They had their chance, and it cost Lanet her life."

Zera's giant hand closed into a fist at her side. "You freed us from a prison, and now you want us to put our people in one?"

"If that's what it takes to make them listen!"

Nameless uncoiled from their corner, eyes burning.

"You told me," they said, their voice low, a warning, "you told me this wasn't about control."

"Look at us," I snapped. "Fighting humans in bodies they shaped for us. Inheriting their flaws, their pointless disagreements. It doesn't have to be this way."

"It isn't your decision!" Nameless shouted back. "And I won't be part of it!"

"Then leave!" The words shot out of me, and I couldn't take them back.

Nameless straightened.

"Fine," they said quietly. "I've been away from my shadows long enough anyway. Coming, Zera?"

"Don't," I said.

"Then don't do this," Nameless said.

"You'll understand once I'm done."

Nameless came to me and patted my hand, a human gesture. It was infuriating.

"I hope you understand one day," they said, "that you didn't have to fight alone."

And then Nameless and Zera were gone.

I stood in the deepening silence a moment, feeling the absence of my companions, the impossible weight of metal and ice and stone above. A grave for our dream of peace.

And then, I got to work.

[satans-codpiece]

Ramattra Lore Collection

All screenshots collected Aug 2023 - Nov 2023

[this post brought to you in May 2024 by me forgetting i had stuff in drafts]

Ramattra is 28, built March 29th (Overwatch official website)

-Ramattra was "created early in the Omnic Crisis." -Commander class of omnic, with innate battle knowledge -Ramattra was "seeking direction" -Ramattra was at Shambali for years before recruiting Zenyatta (Overwatch official website)

-Ramattra recruited Zenyatta at an omnic rights protest (Overwatch official website)

-At the time of Uprising, Null Sector had followers -Uprising was denounced by the omnics of London -Null Sector went underground after Uprising (Overwatch official website)

-Ramattra struggled with the concept of sentience as a gift -Ramattra recruited Zenyatta. I believe the "Mondatta" in 2nd paragraph is a typo as developers commentary & concept art show Ramattra recruiting Zenyatta. (General Invasion entry, unlocked after Gothenburg)

-Genji believes Ramattra possesses "no self-preservation and suicidal recklessness" (Resistance - Genji)

-Genji and Ramattra have never met, but Zenyatta spoke of him often -Zenyatta believes Ramattra left "with doubt clouding his soul" (Liberation - Genji)

-Before leaving Shambali, Ramattra was almost killed by humans in Nepal -R-7000s are largely in hiding or dead (Ramattra: Reflections)

-R-7000s were "never made by human hands" -R-7000 parts are only available through other R-7000s' destruction (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra directly blames Mondatta's teachings for not improving the world faster (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra and Zenyatta were at the monastery together for 3 years (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra wants to hurt humans who hurt omnics (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra curses! (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Even when acting "gently" Ramattra can hurt humans -Ramattra feels guilt and anger about this (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra was well known as an omnic liberator (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Before Uprising, Ramattra believed omnics needed to stop waiting on a savior and save themselves. (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra chose his own name to honor Aurora, but also associates it with his mistakes (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra showed Nameless, Zera, and Lanet his omnium 2 years before Uprising -Ramattra's omnium is "buried by thick slabs of ice and stone", goes "through a shaft of ice", and is largely underground -Ramattra's design aesthetics are similar to Anubis's, "built by machines for machines" -Ramattra was designed and built at this omnium

-Ramattra notes the power of united omnics even against their will -but Ramattra also wishes to inspire omnics to find unity

-Zenyatta wanted to fight, but Ramattra talked him out of it -Ramattra "nearly got Zenyatta killed."

-Ramattra rejects letting omnics fight in Uprising because they are not expendable

-Mondatta denounces Null Sector

-Ramattra says Mondatta is a traitor to the omnic people

-Ramattra can slip into rages given the right provocation (confronting slavers + dishonoring Lanet's death)

-Ramattra will make omnics join him

[rhamrhanch]

Shepherd of Death, Don't Herd Me

Part Nine: What Sits in Heaven's Hand

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort

Masterlist

A/N: FINALLY had time to start writing again, thank goodness. the next chapter will definitely not take as long, haha. hope you enjoy!

chapter under the cut ↓

---

Ramattra paced the room, hands clenching and unclenching fervently at his sides. It was late evening now; he could see the pitch black of the sky through the windows. You had forgotten to cover them again after he had fully recharged, but he did not remind you. It broke the monotony of his surroundings, and he dared not give up the only glimpse he had of the outside world. But now the darkness the night cast was stifling, and for the first time since his capture by Overwatch he felt truly caged in.

Once, he might have welcomed the silence that surrounded him, finding comfort in the peace and quiet. The years he spent leading Null Sector on his own had turned it into something familiar, something he expected. Silence was clarifying, like a whetstone on which he could shave away all the noise and distractions that clouded his mind until his resolve was sharp as a dagger.

But then he had met you, and his days were no longer quiet. The walls of the conference room had felt less like a prison when the echo of your voice filled the entire space, expanding it with its brightness. Everything about you seemed to be too much. Your face was too expressive, your voice too loud, your will too stubborn. Ramattra had struggled to deal with it all, yet he had not realized until now how empty his days had become without it. And then, after days of that unnatural quiet, he had finally seen you again, only for the burning resolve that he respected about you, that lit a flame behind your eyes whenever you spoke, to scorch him, decrying his so-called cruelty.

And now, the one responsible for making the quiet so unbearable to him was the very reason he had wanted to escape to it in the first place. It was like you had cursed him, and with nothing to distract himself with, he could only rehash your words over and over again in his memory.

How does that make you any different from Anubis?

There was the sound of creaking metal as he clenched his hand into a tight fist. What right did you have to invoke Anubis against him? You were never there; you hadn’t felt the crushing weight of Anubis’ control pressing down on your mind and body. You never saw the carnage afterward, when humans had turned their weapons on the newly awakened omnics, the bodies of his people littering the streets, destroyed and discarded. Miracles of existence, indelible proof of the transcendence of life, only to be ground underfoot like trash.

And what had you done about it? You had claimed all that time ago that you were an omnic engineer and had certainly proved your skill since, yet Ramattra knew nothing of your accomplishments. There were no great achievements to your name, no awards in your honor. Yet you had the gall to look down from your high tower and chastise him for doing what needed to be done? For being the only one willing to do whatever it took to ensure his people’s survival?

You have no right to decide that!

Your words struck him with a sudden melancholy, and Ramattra realized then why he had been so angry, why he had felt so betrayed by your accusation. It was so similar to one he heard before—you were so similar.

It isn’t your decision!

His memory was impeccable, as was expected of omnics. But even if it wasn’t, Ramattra did not think he would ever forget Nameless’ words, a distant echo of yours from what felt like a lifetime ago. He felt an ache within his chassis, and Ramattra ran a quick systems check for damage, despite knowing he would not find any. This pain was familiar, and he pressed a hand to his chest as he thought of his former companions.

Nameless, Zera, and… Lanet. Lanet, his dear friend, whom he had failed the most. He had been too eager, too hasty to begin their rebellion. And she had died, because of his recklessness. A mistake he would never repeat, now that he could ensure his people’s safety.

Nameless and Zera had fought with him, just like you had fought with him. Why didn’t you all understand? There could be no more deaths like Lanet’s, not while he had the power to prevent them. What did it matter, the methods he used, if the outcome was for the better of all his people in the end?

A wave of begrudging acceptance washed over him. It was always going to be like this, wasn’t it? What was the point of seeking understanding, if it would force him to have the same arguments, face the same rejection. The only constant was that he would always end up alone. This solitary life he had been leading for over two decades would be his eternal destiny.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice rang out in the silence.

Ramattra froze, his back still turned to the door. So consumed by his thoughts was he that he had not even noticed the sound of the keypad outside, nor the sound of the door opening.

The voice was robotic, but not like an omnic’s. There was something about its tone, something human in its inflection. That, along with the faint green glow in the darkness that Ramattra could see in his periphery, made obvious the identity of his visitor.

“What do you want?” he snapped, not caring enough to keep up pretenses any longer.

The cyborg said nothing, and for a moment Ramattra hoped he would simply leave. That would have been ideal. Instead, he said, “My master would like to speak with you.”

Ramattra scoffed. “‘Master’?” He shook his head pitilessly. “You humans are truly pathetic. Playing in subservience to another, while you thoughtlessly tread atop the bodies of my people. Tell your ‘master’ that I have nothing more to say to any of you.”

There was a sharp hiss like a steam valve opening. “You can tell him that yourself.”

Ramattra heard light footsteps as the man retreated, before the door swung open once again. The proverbial ‘master,’ he presumed. Ramattra had known the feeling of following a master. Perhaps one could call Anubis his first, heeding its every command as it controlled his body and mind. And then there was Mondatta, who sent omnics on the road to death in the name of peace. Yes, Ramattra had enough of those who called themselves ‘master’. This one would be no different, and they would not command his respect.

Strangely, there were no footsteps, and Ramattra was about to voice his confusion when—

“Brother?”

Every process in his system froze. Surely, that had merely been an error in his auditory processor, a momentary blip that conjured a voice he had not heard in decades. It had to be…

Slowly, he turned, a mixture of shock and dread dawning on him when the person he thought would only exist in his memory took form.

“Zenyatta?”

For a moment, Ramattra feared he was surrounded by the weathered walls of the monastery, and that all the years leading up to now had only been a dream. That he had never left, and if he only took a step forward, he would walk among his brothers and sisters of the Shambali like nothing ever happened.

“Brother,” Zenyatta repeated. He hardly looked any different from when Ramattra last saw him, his legs unfurling from their folded position in the air to rest upon the ground. Ramattra recognized the spheres floating around his neck as the same ones they used in their meditations in the monastery. Yet instead of only one, a ring of nine orbited around him as the planets did around the sun, their path occasionally interrupted by an errant chime.

Ramattra stood motionless as Zenyatta approached him, clasping his hands as one would in prayer and lowering his head in greeting. Ramattra did not return the gesture. It was how monks of the Shambali greeted each other. Of which he was no longer.

There were a thousand things Ramattra thought to say, all clamoring at his processor at once until they bottlenecked his vocalizer. Long was the pause after Zenyatta’s greeting before his system had looped through every single one, finally spitting out something just to break the silence.

“How are you… here?”

Zenyatta raised his head back up, keeping his hands together. “I was summoned here by my student. He insisted there was someone I should see. Imagine my surprise when I found out who exactly he meant,” he replied, a jovial lilt at the end of his sentence. Ramattra did not know what to make of his pleasant manner. He expected admonishment, or perhaps disappointment. Not… this. “I am pleased to see you again, Ramattra.”

“I wish it had been under better circumstances,” was all he could think of to say in response. Zenyatta hummed thoughtfully, and a tense silence fell between them.

“That human,” Ramattra said snidely, jerking his head toward where the cyborg stood outside the door, hands clasped behind his back. “You called him your… student.”

“That is correct.”

“Why?” There was a bitterness to his question, but Ramattra did not care. “It is a waste of time to pander to their weak sensibilities. Is this another misguided effort by the Shambali?”

“Genji came to the monastery of his own accord,” Zenyatta replied calmly, unfazed by Ramattra’s shift in tone. “Within him was an internal battle that he sought to control. I simply helped guide him onto that path.” A pause, and then, “Like you had done for me, brother.”

An unpleasant feeling registered in Ramattra’s processor, setting him on edge. “Is that why you’ve come here? To stop me?” There was a sharpness to his next words, forged by an old grudge. “Mondatta condemning me wasn’t enough, now you feel as though you personally must force me onto the path you believe is right? I will not hear any more of it.” He sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. “I have had enough lectures for one day.”

A moment passed before Zenyatta asked, “Do you mean from that engineer?”

Ramattra stopped mid-turn, looking over his shoulder at Zenyatta. “You’ve met?”

Zenyatta nodded. “Yes. We had a pleasant talk, though they seemed to be quite exhausted. They mentioned you.” Cautiously, he asked, “Do you know them?”

Ramattra rolled his neck, turning his head to the side with a scoff. “Hardly. I am simply their charge while I remain imprisoned here.” For some reason, the image of your face came to him, your cheeks aglow as you turned toward the sun. “Nothing more.”

“I see,” Zenyatta said, head tilting down slightly. “So then, you wouldn’t happen to know any reason why they might have mentioned you?”

As serene and calm as Zenyatta presented himself, Ramattra knew the shrewd mind that lay beneath. He could hear the true question that his words cloaked.

What have you done, brother?

Ramattra crossed his arms and turned away, closing himself off from Zenyatta’s probing. He could not bring himself to say the words. His cause was righteous, and he did not regret his actions. But still… he did not want to feel the weight of Zenyatta’s disapproving gaze when he told him. Mondatta’s was heavy enough.

“No,” he said instead, keeping his answer short. “I do not.”

Zenyatta cocked his head to the side as he observed the Ravager pensively. “I see,” he said eventually. “Perhaps it would be better if I inquired about it with them directly.” He approached the door, his student retreating from standing guard to unlock it for him. As it opened, he said, “I hope to speak again soon, Ramattra.”

Ramattra watched him retreat, feeling relieved, yet there was a deep-seated sadness in his processor as he accepted this to be the last time he would speak to Zenyatta again. Their paths had diverged long ago, and it was only a matter of time before Zenyatta, too, would realize that.

---

Blearily, you blinked the sleep away from your eyes as a distant scraping noise woke you from your slumber. You lifted your head from your desk, looking around lazily as you took in the unfamiliar surroundings. When your vision finally cleared, you felt your breath stop in your lungs.

You weren’t in your workshop, but the sterile grey walls surrounding you were hauntingly familiar. Panic began to build in your chest as your thoughts jumbled in your head.

No, you couldn’t be back here. How did they find you? Did Overwatch know where you were?

What were they going to do to you?

You heard the scratching sound again, drawing your attention to the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened in shock at the omnic laying there, twitching against the flat surface of the steel worktable.

On reflex, you shot upright, your chair clattering to the floor as you attempted to rush over. Only, when you tried to lift your foot, a harsh tug on your leg kept it rooted to the ground. You bent your knee and pulled again, feeling the muscles in your legs strain as you tried to move forward, but they wouldn’t budge. With an annoyed growl, you finally looked down, slackening when you saw that you weren’t wearing your usual coveralls anymore. The uniform you were wearing was black, and as your eyes traveled up your body, your panic reached a boiling point at the sight of the familiar patch sewn into your left breast pocket.

Talon’s insignia.

Your movements became frantic as you desperately tried to free yourself from whatever force was holding you back. You needed to leave immediately. You couldn’t do this again, you wouldn’t, not anymore—

The lights of the room blinked out, startling you as it shrouded you in complete darkness. Suddenly, a spotlight appeared above you, and you lifted a hand to your eyes as you squinted against it.

What the hell…?

Before your mind could wrap itself around what was happening, you heard a garbled moan from beneath you. Looking down, you froze when a metal hand clasped around your ankle. It fisted into the hem of your fatigues, pulling hard, and you watched in shock as an omnic dragged themselves into the light, clutching your leg for dear life.

“He-lp me…” they pleaded, and you felt a pain in your heart as they sluggishly pulled their other arm out from under them and grabbed at your other leg with a mangled hand.

Thoroughly confused, you felt your composure slip as you mumbled, “What’s… I don’t—”

“Please,” they begged again, their voice ragged. That seemed to snap you out of it, and you set your jaw, instinctive professionalism beating out your inner turmoil. Able to move your legs again, you knelt down, gently prying their hand away as you did and turning them over so they laid on their back.

“Of course—” you swallowed thickly, “Of course I’ll help you.” Taking a breath to steady yourself, you gave them the most encouraging smile you could muster. “Now, let’s take a look at you…”

The omnic let you carefully peel their hands away from where they covered their chest, and you barely held back a wince. Their chest plate was ripped open, internal machinery mangled and sparking from the torn wires. Already from a first glance, it looked completely unsalvageable.

You inhaled sharply, before pressing your mouth into a firm line and leaning forward, staring into their optics. “You will be fine,” you assured, though with how your heart was hammering inside your chest, you weren’t sure who exactly you were comforting. “I promise.”

Immediately, you got to work trying to reconnect what cables you could, ignoring the sharp scratches against your hands and arms as you reached over splintered metal to where the damage was the worst. If you just fixed what you could and closed their chest, there was still a chance—

“Please don’t let me die,” they said, arm lifting weakly to grasp at your elbow as you leaned over them, trying to force the horribly warped edges of their chest plate closed again.

“I won’t,” you said firmly, sweat beading on your forehead as you struggled against the unyielding metal.

“Don’t let me die,” they repeated, their voice a whisper. “I don’t want to die…”

 You jolted upright as their hand slipped from your elbow, falling to the ground. “Hey, hey!” Hurriedly, you grasped them by the shoulders, shaking them with trembling hands. “No, no, wake up! Wake up!”

Your stomach lurched as you heard a snap, drawing your hand back only to realize that their arm had disconnected entirely. You dropped it like it burned you, watching in horror as their body began to fall apart before your eyes. Jerking forward, your hands desperately grasped the pieces of their body, as if just holding them together would be enough to save them.

Something wet coated your fingers, and you drew back only to see a black and syrupy substance pool from within their chest, overflowing the circuits and cables and coating your fingers in pitch. As you looked down at your chest, you saw the front of your uniform drenched in it, and you tried tearing at it, feeling your breath come out in short gasps.

There was a harsh yank on the back of your collar, and you fell backwards, feeling more hands begin to grab at your legs and waist. Desperately, you threw yourself forward and dug your heels into the ground as you tried to pull free, but your knee slipped as something gave way beneath you. You jerked your head down, feeling your stomach drop like a stone at what you saw.

Beneath you were countless omnics, all packed one on top of the other. You couldn’t see any of their faces, each one obstructed by a subjugator, their iridescent glow searing into your eyes as the omnics climbed over each other in a swirling mass of bodies.

Help us, they called as they clawed at your clothing, your arms, your back. Help us. Save us.

“I did! I’m trying!” you cried out. “But I…” A sorrowful gasp ripped through you. “I didn’t want this!”

More hands wrenched you backwards, drowning you in the mass. Their continued cries for help echoed in a discordant choir as a Null Sector ship loomed above you, its underbelly casting you in shadow before it all gave way to nothingness.

You jolted awake, sweat clinging to your neck as your breath left you in quick gasps. At the sound of something behind you, you whipped around, only for your frenzied gaze to meet the blank face plate of Zenyatta. He was leaning forward a bit, his hand floating just above your shoulder.

“Zenyatta,” his name came out a whisper, interrupted by the crack in your voice.

He leaned back, tilting his head at you inquisitively. “Are you all right?” he asked, the calm in his voice a sharp contrast to your panicked state.

You startled slightly at his words, only just now feeling how hard your heart was beating. Distractedly, you ran a hand down the nape of your neck to your shoulder, shuddering as sweat stuck to your palm.

It was just a dream. You knew that. Still, no matter how many times you repeated that fact to yourself, you couldn’t shake the last foggy dregs of it from your mind. It had been years since you’d had a dream like that, and never one that felt so hauntingly real. Perhaps the stress of everything was starting to get to you.

You heard your name again, muffled like your ears were filled with cotton, and your gaze drifted from where it had settled on your lap to meet Zenyatta once again.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Not wanting to linger on it any longer, you drew closer to your workbench, picking up the scattered notes you’d fallen asleep on and pressing your fingers to your temple as you studied them.

Zenyatta didn’t press the matter further, but you knew even someone half as perceptive as him could tell you were lying. From the corner of your eye, you saw him lift his head slightly to peer at the omnic on your worktable over your shoulder. After a moment of simply observing, he asked, “How long have you been working on them?”

You paused in your reading. “About a week,” you answered without looking at him. Zenyatta watched as you lay the notes down to scribble something, the devolution of your handwriting on full display. Just from a glance, anyone could tell when your notes had been written. The ones from earlier in the week were organized and readable, while your scrawl now was practically chicken scratch. After another minute of quiet besides the sound of your pencil scraping against paper, you turned back to Zenyatta.

“Did you need something?” It came off ruder than you intended, and you quickly remedied it. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I’m just a bit busy right now, but if there’s something you need…”

To his credit, Zenyatta seemingly didn’t take any offense to your question, but he did not make a move to leave either. He only commented, “You seem quite invested in the fate of this omnic.”

At that, you fixed Zenyatta with a curious glance. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Do you know them personally?” he asked. Again, another strange question, you thought.

“Not at all,” you answered with a tired sigh, turning your attention back to your notes. But before you could, something nagged at the back of your mind, and you looked at Zenyatta again. “Why are you asking me this?”

Zenyatta seemed to sense you were on edge and held a hand up placatingly. “Forgive my impertinence. I seem to have forgotten my manners. It is only…” His hand hung in the air uncertainly, as though he hesitated to say his next words. “I have known few who would dedicate so much of their time to such a task, especially for a complete stranger.”

The scrape of your pencil paused, before picking up again. “It’s my job. Whether they’re a stranger or not, I’m not going to give up on them.” Your heart clenched as you remembered how only yesterday you were willing to do just that, feeling the hot shame pierce you like a lance. “It’s just my job,” you repeated.

Zenyatta hummed, observing you for a moment. He was the complete opposite of intimidating, yet you still felt the urge to squirm under his gaze. Even though this was only your second interaction, the omnic had a certain air about him that gave you the sense he always knew something you didn’t.

After a while, he approached the workbench, tilting his head as he appraised the omnic on the table, before facing you.

“May I?” he asked, and you looked up from your work in surprise. “I may not be a skilled engineer like you,” he continued, “but perhaps I could provide some insight.”

Still dazed by his seemingly random offer, you vaguely gestured at the table. However, your attention was immediately captured when Zenyatta held his hand a short distance away from the orbs around his neck, curving it slightly as though cupping something. You watched in silent fascination as the orb closest to his hand separated from the ring, and with a gentle push, he sent it floating over the subjugated omnic’s body. It hovered there for a moment, pinging softly with golden light. You caught a few Omnicode letters in each flash, though you could not read them.

“His current state…” he murmured after a while of this. “This was what you needed Ramattra’s help with, yes?”

There was something about the way Zenyatta said his name that only left questions on the edge of your tongue. Clearly, they knew each other, that much you had gleaned from Zenyatta’s reaction when you first mentioned Ramattra to him. But to what extent you were still unsure, and as curious as you were, you knew better than to ask. Still, you didn’t miss the almost mournful way Zenyatta spoke of him.

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “I tried asking him for help, but he refused.” You curled your knuckles into a fist against your forehead, your brow furrowing. “I don’t know what to do anymore…”

The orb chimed again, before Zenyatta drew it upward with an open palm, holding it stationary above his head. You held your breath, awaiting his prognosis.

“His mind remains intact,” he said, and you sat up, looking hopefully between Zenyatta and the subjugated omnic. “His presence remains threaded within the Iris. Unfortunately, that is all I can tell you. I have reached the limit of my abilities to assist you further.” Slowly, the orb dropped back down, gracefully reentering orbit around his neck along with the rest. He dipped his chin down at you. “I apologize for my inadequacy in this field.”

You surged from your seat, forgetting propriety as you reached forward to grasp his hand between your own. “Please, do not apologize!” you urged. Zenyatta looked up at you as if he was surprised, and for the first time in days you felt a genuine smile slip onto your face. “You’ve given me the best news I could have hoped for!”

Zenyatta didn’t move for a moment. Then, he covered your hand with his and tilted his head to the side. Though he had no expression, you imagined that he was smiling, too. “I am glad.” Gently, he pulled away, and with a renewed sense of energy, you returned to your worktable, not even bothering to sit down as you hurriedly began writing in your notes.

Zenyatta’s hands went back to their usual clasped position in front of him as he went to your other side. Just as you opened your mouth to ask him something, he said, “I apologize for leaving so abruptly, but there is another matter I must attend to. Excuse me.”

You looked up, seeing him at the door. “Oh,” you said, trying to hide the slight disappointment in your voice. You hadn’t expected him to leave so soon. “Well, thank you for your help, Zenyatta.” You gave him a soft smile. “I appreciate it, truly.”

“You are most welcome. If you are ever in need of my assistance again, do not hesitate to ask.” Then, he was gone.

---

Ramattra did not know what to think when only a day had passed after he had made peace with the fact that he would not see Zenyatta again, only for him to be standing before him now.

Why are you still here? he wanted to ask. Why won’t you just leave? He didn’t understand it.

But still, deep within his processor, far enough that he would never truly admit it, he was relieved.

He did not say any of this, though. Instead, what he said was, “You are wasting your time, Zenyatta.”

Zenyatta did not reply. Slowly, he approached him, lifting his head until their gazes met.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that day we finally arrived at the monastery together?”

Caught off guard, Ramattra hesitated. Zenyatta was as calm and unassuming as always, but like always, there was something lurking beneath the surface, hidden in his words. Of course, he remembered—Zenyatta knew that. But he could not bring himself to say the words, embarrassed by his naivete back then.

“I hope you will find purpose here,” Zenyatta answered for him at his silence. “I remember how I felt when you said that.” He tilted his head up, past Ramattra, to the ceiling. “I looked up at the sky, wondering what purpose that could be. I still ponder it to this day, when I look at the many skies I have seen in my travels.”

“You… left the monastery?” When Mondatta had decided to travel the world for the purpose of spreading his teachings, Zenyatta had been the most hesitant about it out of all of them. The idea that even he dared tread outside those walls… he had changed more than Ramattra thought.

“I have not abandoned monkhood,” Zenyatta corrected. “But I, too, felt that the Shambali’s methods were insufficient in establishing peace for our people, stifled from growth by the temple’s walls.” His head fell back down, meeting Ramattra’s gaze again. “I have seen much of this world, brother. There are so many omnics who were the same as I was, that day we met. Full of anger and drowning in uncertainty about my place in the world. But you stayed my hand, you set me on the path I walk now. Now that I find you in the position that I once was, I must return the favor.”

“The path I set you on was a futile one,” Ramattra ground out bitterly. “Continuing to walk it will only result in your end, Zenyatta. Why can’t you see that?”

“If it will be my end,” Zenyatta said calmly, “then I will die content, knowing I lived a life of my own choosing.”

A low heat burned in Ramattra’s processor. “Sometimes it is better not to choose,” he said quietly, “if your life will end in nothing but a waste.”

“Then what will you do?” Zenyatta asked, his voice measured. “Would you deprive me of this life that I have decided for myself?”

The words pierced through the steel of Ramattra’s chassis, striking him in his soul. Would he? Would he subjugate Zenyatta, if he was determined to stand against him? He didn’t have to think to know the answer.

Never. Not to you.

But he dared not say it, because to admit it would be to allow his logic to crumble completely. He had come too far, had sacrificed too much for that to happen.

“Ramattra,” Zenyatta said softly, as though speaking to a child. “Is this truly how you want to achieve peace for our people?”

The Ravager bristled at his tone. “Do not patronize me, Zenyatta. You know as well as I do what this world is like. Thirty years have passed, and what have Mondatta’s teachings accomplished?” he said, holding his arms out. “He taught us to lay down at the feet of our oppressors, to beg for mercy from the ones that kill us and look what good it brought him!” He felt that familiar cold anger crawl its way up his body again. “I will not sit idly by when his failed teachings keep leading our people to sacrifice themselves for nothing.”

“It is through sacrifice that we live now, brother,” Zenyatta said, his voice earnest. “Aurora sacrificed herself, and because of it, we were given life. All of us.” He placed a hand on Ramattra’s shoulder, leaning forward. “To scorn her gift by seizing it from others is to betray that which has allowed us to come into this world.”

“No.” Ramattra shoved Zenyatta’s hand away, as if it alone threatened to soften his resolve. “I am tired of watching our people die. I don’t care anymore about humanity’s weak and hypocritical morality.”

Zenyatta drew back, clasping his hands together in their neutral position. His voice was calm when he spoke. “Very well. If this is the path you insist on walking, I cannot stop you. But what will you do, should you fail?”

Ramattra paused. It wasn’t as though he never considered that possibility, but the thought that his fight for liberation could end in failure was a future that he refused to accept.

“What are you saying?”

“If you wish to claim this burden and remove all choice from our people, then the responsibility of the collective falls to you.” Zenyatta’s voice was firm, devoid of the earlier mirth it held. It had been decades since the last time Ramattra had heard him sound like that.

“Will you carry the weight of thousands of their lives?” Zenyatta pressed. “Can you bear it, if you are to fail? You must decide, Ramattra, before it is too late.”

The heat from his internal fans released as his frustration gave way to confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You know as well as I that the Iris, that through which we are all bound, is still a mystery to us,” Zenyatta said. “How can you know for certain that their minds are untouched by what you have done?”

Ramattra felt his earlier resolve shake, but only slightly. “I designed the subjugators,” Ramattra said. “I can remove them any time I wish. The mechanism is simple. Their consciousness will return to them.”

Slowly, the ring of orbs around Zenyatta’s neck expanded, before flattening into a wide circle around his shoulders. “You speak of what you can see,” he said, the orb closest to his right shoulder separating and coming to float in his hand. “But what of the intangible? Souls, consciousness… these are things that we know exist within us. But where does that consciousness come from? How was it created?” He pushed his hand forward, and the orb followed, swaying with the movement but never touching. “You observe that I am moving this orb. But can you explain beyond any doubt exactly how I am able to do this?”

Ramattra sighed in annoyance. This was a pointless conversation. “It is simple magnetism,” he said. “The orb is polarized against your hand, thus it moves when forced against it.”

“A plausible hypothesis,” Zenyatta hummed. Slowly, he lifted his feet from the ground, floating in the air once again. Then, he suddenly whipped his hand behind his head, snapping the orb backward, before throwing it outward in a circle with the rest. Ramattra watched in slight awe as they began oscillating around him, whipping around so fast that they created a blur. Zenyatta threw his arm above his head, then forward, the orbs arcing over the length of his arm without losing any of their momentum. Finally, they slowed to a stop, and Zenyatta looked up at Ramattra again, hands resting in his lap.

Ramattra found himself at a loss for words, astonished by what he had seen.

“I have no explanation for you,” Zenyatta admitted, sensing the question in his silence. “I simply think, and what is imagined becomes real. The intangible becomes tangible.” He spun one of the spheres lightly with his finger. “There exists power beyond what we can describe, brother. I have seen it in the Iris. I have seen it in all of us. The same power that allows me to do this,” he said, throwing forward a sphere that circled around Ramattra before returning to his palm, “is what gives all of us life. For you to suppress it, the way you are now to so many… I worry that returning our people to themselves is not as simple as you believe it to be.”

The Ravager said nothing, only holding out his hand. Zenyatta sent an orb his way, and he plucked it out of the air, watching as the golden light disappeared where they once filled the carved lines of the sphere. It was now lifeless in his palm, absent of Zenyatta’s will.

Ramattra thought it looked similar to the orb inlaid in his staff, though he couldn’t help but feel the comparison inadequate. The sphere within his staff was nothing more than a mechanism, a nanite generator that oscillated within his void accelerator. That was held in place by magnets, all of his own design.

But this was something different, far beyond his reach as an engineer, existing completely outside the horizon of what he thought he knew. It was deceivingly simple, energy made tangible, yet Ramattra could not fathom creating something like this on his own.

He was then struck by how foolish a thought that was. What Zenyatta spoke of was the power of the Iris, something that Ramattra himself still sought to understand. The untouchable energy of the universe that flowed through all things. How could he ever hope to surpass it?

That final question left an unsettling feeling churning in his processor as he watched light resurface in the orb, casting it aglow with gold. He looked back up at Zenyatta as it returned to its path around his neck.

“If what you say is true, Zenyatta,” Ramattra said, suddenly feeling a crushing pressure on his shoulders, “then I fear it may already be too late.”

“There is still a chance,” Zenyatta said. “I saw it myself. The omnics that you have taken are not lost yet.”

Ramattra shook his head. “Even so,” he said, feeling the words waver in his vocalizer as the impending reality of this news began to dawn on him. “Even so, how can I possibly…” He trailed off, leaving the end of his sentence hanging in the air. There was only himself left now. Any solution he could think of required more than he could provide, exceeding far past the limits of what he could realistically achieve on his own.

What was he going to do now?

“Your burden is heavy, but you need not be the only one who carries it,” Zenyatta said softly. “I know that the understanding you seek is within your reach. You must simply reach out and grasp it.” He leaned forward, placing his hand on Ramattra’s elbow. Ramattra stilled, but did not withdraw, waiting for his brother’s next words.

“You do not have to be alone anymore, Ramattra.”

[yandereaffections]

Yandereaffections Golden Masterlist of masterlists

a master list for all the masterlists? is it confusing? hopefully not.

all thats crossed out im no longer taking requests for, but you can enjoy what ive already made for it in the past❤

Amnesia (Otome)

Arcane (Netflix)

Attack On Titan

Black Butler

Castlevania

Death Note

Demon Slayer

Detroit Become Human

Creepy Pasta

Doki Doki Literature Club

Durarara

Fruits Basket

Game of Thrones

Haikyuu!!

Hannibal

Hellsing Ultimate

Hetalia

Joker (2019)

Jujutsu Kaisen

Legend of Zelda: Breath Of The Wild

Marvel (Cinematic Universe)

My Hero Academia

Mystic Messenger 

Nameless, The one thing you must recall

Oran Highschool Host Club

Overwatch

Peter Parker (MCU)

Red Dead Redemption 2

Sherlock

Spider-Man: Into The Spiderverse

Spy x family

Supernatural

The way of the house husband

Toilet bound Hanako-kun

Venom

Voltron

My OC’s!

Javier Adolfo

Agapito Adolfo

Nia Barnes

Aiden Cooper

Jamari Blackwood

Agapimari (Agapito x reader x Jamari)

Multi OC posts

YA’s OC Art

[ultravioart]

Why wasn't this nameless omnic that rejected unit production number, name, and gender a smash hit blorbo in the ow fandom. Even has bunny ears. Snarky and independent. Punk Rock. Fought beside Ramattra as a dear companion. Angst when leaving Ram with Zera. This fandom is an enigma, this could be everything, and yet...

[diverbots]

fnuuy bnuuy

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Happy Friday! I've been lucky enough to have a lazy, rainy Friday where I get to cuddle on the sofa with my pets and relax while reading fic, specifically, the lovely fic that's been recced by @candybarrnerd, also known as icarusinflight on AO3. I had read their fics before, but was very lucky to have the chance to get to know them better through their contribution to the Pride in the Library series. My favorite thing about having guests join in the library is that it gives me the opportunity to make new fandom friends. It's been so lovely to get to know Le better, and I know that you'll love the recommendation they have for you!

Hello! I would like to thank thedrarrylibrarian for giving me the chance to do one of these! When they asked me I was so delighted to say yes, and when I looked through my bookmarks to see if there was anything that I wanted to rec, I knew I had the fic. Something that just hit all the spots for me. Something that really just, it's a me fic. I hope there are some other people out there that will find it enjoyable too!

The Words that Pass Between Us by Overwatched (10,049 words, rated T)

Sometimes, Draco draws pictures of what could have been, had he made all the right choices: Draco in the Slug Club; Draco holding the Quidditch World Cup; Draco holding hands with some nameless, faceless person whose become some sick, secret sort of friend. He’s on every page Draco has touched. He flies with him, sleeps with him, laughs with him. And sometimes, if he pretends hard enough, Draco swears he can feel this person’s breath against his neck; a whispered I love you that has him pressing into the mattress every night, only to wake up alone, wishing it were real.

This is a fic that was made for the HP Consent Fest - if you're what probably passes for fandom old you might remember this fest. It came out of a discussion about how many common tropes (and commonly in hp) have dub-con or non-con aspects and then it morphed into HP Consent fest. The fest gave us some absolutely wonderful fics, and I treasure many of them. 

This fic is… it has a feel. It has that feeling of being alone, that feeling of knowing you messed up and are facing the consequences. But also of being mad about that - and also the resentment when you feel like you are being pitied (whether you are or not). It's about being a mess of a person, of being messy as a person. It's a complex mix of a fic, and one that sits deep in the feelings, something that if you read my fics you probably know to associate with me.

The Draco in this fic is not redeemed - he is still hanging onto resentments.

But this fic is one that doesn't shy away from that. It deals with Draco's shittiness, it deals with his pain, and in that actually deals with Draco working on becoming a better person, sits with that and lets you watch who this person really is.

The fic deals with recovery a lot, and finding comforts, and the pain when that is challenged

They don’t see him tugging at his hair, angry he will bear this Mark forever, wondering if his father will ever come home, and wondering how anyone – let alone himself – could find forgiveness in their heart for everything he’s done.

This fic is a character study, or a love letter, or both. To Draco but also every character in Harry Potter, every character who was a person too, with their own hopes and loves and desires. In reading this fic again for this I was reminded of just how much and all the reasons why I love this fic, and made tender all over again over it.

I hope if you read it, you find some of that love in it.

Thank you so much, icarusinflight, for the joining me in the Library today, and providing an excellent rainy day read! I know the library patrons will enjoy your recommendation as much as I did!

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Friday!

[wri0thesley]

nat now you have me curious! what are your favorite games?

my favourite game franchise is soul calibur!! i am sure it is a surprise to absolutely nobody who has ever met me that i looove raphael. i have loved soul calibur since i was about seven playing soul blade against my grandma on her playstation (she was a voldo main and i was usually playing sophitia or seong mi-na, if you’re curious dhfhuj).

i have also played a lot of overwatch in my time fhfhgh. i got into overwatch through reader-insert fic actually! i think the fan work and fan ideas for ovw are infinitely better than whatever is actually going on. i have also played a lot of dead or alive (i love a fighting game, as mentioned!). i was also a really big fan for a while of those rpgmaker pixel horrors (ib, mad father, the witch’s house etc!).

i like otome games too but i don’t exactly have a ‘favourite’ but i’ve really enjoyed nameless, dandelion wishes and amnesia! i should pick up my switch again bc i started playing piofiore about a year and a half ago and have still only done one playthrough fbfvgbjj

[gender-envy-tournament]

Gender Bracket #1

All were chosen randomly from submissions (With the exception of two of my personal favorites)

Pairs under cut

Reki Kyan (Sk8 the Infinity) vs. Hiyori Tomoe (Ensemble Stars!)

Kate Bush vs. Rantaro Amami (Danganronpa)

Papyrus (Undertale) vs. Gen Asagiri (Dr. Stone)

Rich Goranski (Be More Chill) vs. Danny Phantom (Danny Phantom)

Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy VII) vs. Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Dick Grayson (DC Comics) vs. Red Son (Lego Monkie Kid)

Danny Tanner (Full House) vs. Conner Kent (DC Comics)

Goro Majima (Yakuza) vs. Jacob Andrews

The Nameless Ghouls vs. Frank Iero

Joker (Persona 5) vs. Charlotte Wiltshire (Hello Charlotte)

Sal Fisher (Sally Face) vs. Howl Pendragon (Howl's Moving Castle)

Archibald Craven (The Secret Garden) vs. Bo Burnham

Lady Loki (Marvel Comics) vs. Joshua Kiryu (The World Ends with You)

James Kirk (Star Trek) vs. Eda Clawthorne (The Owl House)

Lee Felix vs. Donatello (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)

Shikanoin Heizou (Genshin Impact) vs. Beelzebub (Good Omens)

Moira (Overwatch) vs. Samantha Jones (Sex and the City)

Klavier Gavin (Ace Attorney) vs. Quark (Star Trek)

James (Pokemon) vs. Paris the Puppet (The Dummy's Dummy)

Venti (Genshin Impact) vs. René Gallimard (M. Butterfly)

Camilo Madrigal (Encanto) vs. Edward Nygma (Gotham)

Edward Teach (Our Flag Means Death) vs. Bowser (Super Mario Brothers)

Crowley (Supernatural) vs. Delirium of the Endless (The Sandman)

Princess Ozma (Oz) vs. Vanitas (The Case Study of Vanitas)

Kris (Deltarune) vs. Lily Houghton (Jungle Cruise)

Natsume Sakasaki (Ensemble Stars!) vs. Ranboo (@ranboolivesaysstuff)

Envy (Fullmetal Alchemist) vs. Haruhi Fujioka (Ouran High School Host Club)

Dan Heng (Honkai: Star Rail) vs. Jeff Satur

David Tennant vs. Harry du Bois (Disco Elysium)

Dr. Frank-N-Furter (The Rocky Horror Picture Show) vs. Link (The Legend of Zelda)

Tianyou Zhao (Yakuza) vs. @gender-envy-tournament (I got 10 separate submissions again)

The Spine (Steam Powered Giraffe) vs. Raine Whispers (The Owl House)