#omnic plagues

[emile-hides]

For the ask game! Ramattra?

The man who got me my first 1,000 note post. Yeah I got the think thonks on him for sure.

One aspect about them I love

He's not as inherently cruel as you'd expect him to be. In fact, he's hardly cruel at all. He takes time before a mission to get to know his human teammates and is even willing to socialize with them, despite his apparent hatred for the species. Given how we know people who hate Omnics treat their Omnic teammates before a fight... It's rather surprising I think.

One aspect I wish more people understood about them

This is one I see in a lot of X Readers that make me regret making that gif but look. Guys look.

Just because a man is big with a deep voice does not mean he's going to walk you on a leash and call you his mutt.

Ramattra is not a dominator of any kind, sexually or otherwise. He's the only Overwatch character who actively kinkshames that very specific thing. He hates that Genji follows Zenyatta around like a little lost puppy, actively calls him disgusting over it.

He is not a violent person either. He didn't want any of this. He doesn't want to lead armies and have other tremble under his thumb and do every little thing he commands.

I'm just personally very tired of the Violent Dominate Ramattra X Readers... he's a softie actually... I would like more overrun with anxiety because he has no clue how humans work and actively fears hurting them on accident Ramattra X Reader...

Headcanons I have about this character

I've said this one to a handful of friends but one of my instant Ramattra takes is that he is constantly, beyond his control, scanning for threats around him, and all Humans as perceived as threats to his internal scanners. He's always hyper aware of the humans around him, how they're moving, breathing, speaking, their critical weakpoints, any potential weapons they may have, etc etc. To the point that he struggles to distinguish an ally from an enemy human while in the midst of battle.

Everything he does that might seem odd was in effort to appear more... Friendly to humans during his time in the Shambali. He's a very big Omnic, not the biggest, but bigger than average, and his model type being Generals in the Human Killing Army is enough to put everyone around him on edge, which he of course picks up, and it puts him on edge. So he does weird human things like Breath, Stutter, Hum, Cough. Anything to make himself a little more human.

He hates a lot about himself. He hates how big he is, he hates his original purpose, he hates the human traits he picked up and can't let go, he hates that his default is violence, he hates the sound of his voice when he yells, he hates the constant threat display in his head, he hates his creation and his creator and the brother who made him feel welcomed like he could be accepted despite all these things he hates about living as himself.

I don't think he wanted to lead an army or extinguish the human race. But it's what he was built for, and if no matter what he does people will only ever see him as what he was at the start, then why try changing that? He's on a self destructive mission, yes to save his kind, his dying race, his family, but also just to get away from the fantasy he'd built up of being someone different than who he is. Someone smaller and gentler and more... human. That clearly can't happen. It's not an option for him.

I think Ramattra's a Trans Woman.

One character I love seeing them interact with

I really love his interactions with Bastion!! And Zenyatta as well!!! I know it says one character but they way he speaks to them both is so!!!!!! Cute!!!

The little twigs comment in his canon interaction with Bastion!! The lore and bond he had with Zenyatta in the past!!! God it's my everything!!!

One character I wish they would interact with/interact with more

My friend @ow-old-men got me really really into the idea of him interacting with Orisa (curse you OW2) and just. Experiencing the world along side her. Two Omnics made for violence redefining themselves in familial rolls

Does Orisa know what a woman is? No. But she's still the first one to use She/Her Pronouns for Ramattra because she knows.

Headcanons I have that involve them with other characters

Orisa is Ramattra's egg cracker this is why Blizzard won't let them interact

I think he's the reason Mondatta was assassinated. It was part of the deal with joining Talon, he agreed to assist them if they could take Mondatta out. It was a deal he regretted making almost immediately

Because of his hostility to humans, Maximilien is required to be in every meeting Ramattra is in, for his personal comfort.

Do they actually talk? God I hope so. I hope they kiss on the mouth while they're at it. But also I think Ram would hate Max, because he's just too human. Ramattra has no room to talk though, what with his bad habit of breathing and all that.

Akande really likes Ramattra, likes his manner of holding himself and his conviction. Ramattra hates Akande and really really really wants him to leave him alone.

I think the idea of Ramattra figuring out Reaper's identity and constantly threatening his life is incredibly good fanon content that should continue

Zenyatta, for a very long time, hated and was more hostile to humans than Ramattra. This is why Ramattra brought him to the Shambali, to get away from humans.

[forestfan69]

WIP

[rat-king-writes]

Genji x male reader who is also an cyborg ninja like Raiden Metal Gear Rising Revengeance

( Thank you for the ask . )

Synopsis ; You are a half cyborg ninja , the other cyborg ninja ( Genji ) takes interest in you because of this .

Cw ; Minor violence ( I am so sorry I keep including some violence . )

-Being half human half cyborg was a tough way to live. You were constantly being eyeballed by both human and omnics alike, and people would avoid you on the streets like a plague. Your life has changed ever since the incident, and you often found yourself hopping from hotel to hotel, or even on the streets. Though this lifestyle seemed dangerous to outsiders, you weren't in any sort of trouble usually. You had grown up learning how to wield blades and other weapons, so you were safe from attackers who thought they could take advantage of you.

-Eventually your skills caught the eye of none other than Talon, a primarily morally bad organization that wants your talent for their own gain. And being that you are alone, broke, and essentially homeless; you take the offer to join them. Your first few days were rough. Being flung into a new environment full of people who didn’t care for rules or anything was a less than ideal situation. But what else could you do? You weren’t about to go back to hotel hopping. So you just steered clear of everyone outside of missions where you were forced to interact, but it was usually just yelled orders in your direction.

-On one terrible morning in Talon, you were called down for a debrief for a mission against Overwatch. A name you heard many times, but never really encountered on the field yet. Everytime Doomfist would mention the organization, he would do it in a way that taught you to despise them, so you knew they had to be absolute assholes, right? But you were also an asshole working with Talon, and your own research on overwatch concluded they wanted to save the world, but according to Doom they weren’t doing it right. This job was incredibly confusing. The mission was simple: infiltrate an Overwatch weapons facility and steal weaponry and maybe any intel Sombra - another Talon agent - could find. Simple, right?

-Wrong. Not simple, because when you arrived on scene, there were already guards there. No biggie, you could climb the wall and get in yourself while Sombra does her hack things. So you do; scaling the wall with ease and slipping into an open window. You landed on a grated platform, above all the weapons and equipment. Some guards were gathered there, so you carefully crouched down, readying your blade and swiftly taking each guard out before they could raise a gun to you. You pull back and place your sword in the holster, taking out your radio to tell your teammates the room is clear for extraction.

-When the other Talon agents arrive and start looting, you're instructed to keep watch, perching yourself back onto the grated high ground you had once been on. Everything was going well. Until there was a slice in the air and someone was lunging towards you. The speed caught you off guard, but you were able to quickly dodge before whoever was attacking you grabbed you. You lunged back, unsheathing your sword and looking at the assailant.

-You were shocked to see a man clad in a robotic like suit, similar to yours. You weren’t the only shocked one, as the attacker also seemed to be in the same position of confusion. You both stare at each other for a solid minute before you both, at the same time lunge forward; you both promptly stop in shock once more, a bit in awe at the similarity. It’s the presumed Overwatch agent that strikes first, throwing three shuriken at you. You lunged out of the way, but one managed to slice its way into the metal of your upper arm. Quickly regaining your senses, you run at him with a sword and, of course, he also has a sword.

-After a bit of back and forth a shout came from one of your team members signifying that it was time to go. You dash off of the grated platform and onto a vehicle containing the stolen goods and your team members. All the while you keep your eyes glued onto the green and grey robot man, he doesn’t do anything, he lets you go. The ride back to base was filled with laughter and pride. But you stayed quiet, something about the man you encountered left you stunned, and oddly, you wanted to see him again. You chalked these intruding thoughts up to years of loneliness and mistreatment clouding your judgment. Yet you still sit in your seat, hand delicately tracing the shuriken he had lodged in your arm, pondering what would have happened if you and that man met under different circumstances.

-Later that night you left the house in search of. Well, peace. The base had gotten louder because of the successful heist, and you just needed to get away for a bit. You head to your usual spot, a cliff-like area where you could sit down and relax. You were there for about 30 minutes before you were suddenly disrupted by someone walking up behind you, their footsteps were oddly quiet so you were sure it was someone trying to mug you or something. It was a shock when the person didn’t rob you, but instead sat down next to you. It was the robot man from earlier. You were very confused but he didn’t seem violent and you two just sat there for a bit. You kept your guard up, but you found yourself enjoying the company. No one talked, and it would stay like that until the man left. You also left after a bit, in a much better mood than before.

-The next following months each and every night you would sit at that spot and the man would join you. The first few weeks you two didn’t speak, but eventually you both introduced yourselves. You had learned through one of your many conversations the reason why Genji was the way he is, and you had also confided in him of your own story. In many of your conversations Genji would ask you to quit Talon and transfer to Overwatch, or just leave Talon and disappear somewhere ( Of course he told you to keep contact with him ). However each time you would shut it down, you had heard way too many speeches about the repercussions of splitting off, and you didn't think anyone in Overwatch would be fond of you joining.

-That is until a few weeks later Genji had told you of an ex Talon member who was welcomed easily into the Overwatch agency ( Not without some backlash from Talon itself ). So after careful consideration, and Genji's persistence, you two devised a plan. Firstly, Genji would tell Overwatch about your situation, and then you would pack; later that night you would sneak away and never return. Genji, the absolute sweetheart, was even able to stick you in a base that was farther away as it would help you steer clear of any Talon agents while your disappearance is processed.

-There were a few Overwatch agents there already, as well as Genji who also stayed with you. so you were well protected if anything were to happen. Thankfully it didn't. The base was nice, quiet, and the people there were much friendlier but a bit overwhelming so you usually hung out with Genji in your room. During that time you two just kept getting closer and closer, and eventually Genji showed you his face. That moment your heart was pounding, he was unbelievably gorgeous, and though he hated his scars you absolutely adored them. You worried him though, your long seconds of silence made you believe that you were uncomfortable, but you assured him you were just in so much shock someone could be that handsome.

-From that day on there was a new bloom to your relationship, you two sat closer, Genji would take off his mask, and you would take off your own prosthetics. It was something new, but something you realized you needed, and looked forward to. When you were finally cleared for safety, you and Genji went back to the main base and your feelings only grew from there. Missions with him felt more meaningful, watching him save people or show off was a thrill you never knew you could enjoy. And everytime you did something good, he would praise you after making your heart beat in your chest loudly.

-Of course your feelings got too unbearable to ignore, and one humid night you asked him out. Out to the same cliff he had joined you in originally. You both sat in silence until you mustered enough courage to spill your heart to him. It was fast, clumsy, and probably confusing. But in the end Genji takes off his face plate and smiles at you, telling you he feels the same. Time seems to stop for a minute, but you smile back and grab his hand, dragging him back to base. You would only really be affectionate in private, the quiet 'I love you's' hidden behind closed doors. However sometimes during battle Genji will bump his faceplate into your cheek until you give it a kiss.

[ya-zz]

Hello!

I really like your writing, and I wanted to see if I could request just some headcanons for Zenyatta x GN! Reader who’s really playful and talks alottt?

Like reader just talks on and on about whatever is on their mind (like whatever they’re obsessing on atm or like deep thoughts about life) and they just dump all their thoughts to Zenyatta.

I was also wondering if this could be omnic reader? If you’re not comfortable with that, then you can ignore this omnic part!

Please and thank you!

Zenyatta is the quiet type, only speaking when spoken to unless situations call for his input beforehand.

When meditating with you, he noticed that you were reserved, much like he was.

That was, until he got to know you more.

Stories of past events, from the funny, laid back to the traumatic and life altering altercations.

Zenyatta would sit there and listen to you talk, whether it would be for minutes or hours.

Your presence would take his mind off of the ongoing war that was happening outside of the monastery walls.

Everyday that he passed by your quarters, or when he passes you in the hallway or in the garden, there is always a new story to be said.

Sometimes it's not stories - it's ramblings, a new found fact or some interaction you had witness, sometimes it's a thought or two that has plagued your mind since the last time you had spoken to the monk.

Zenyatta would always appreciate the talking, especially since he knew that he didn't had to respond to everything.

It was... comforting for the monk.

[liselicanis]

Even Dreams Fall Apart

[AO3] [Good Things Fall Apart] Chapter 1: I Am Tired of This Dream

"You're welcome to try and come rip me apart if you can, I'll be waiting."

Ah. It was this dream again.

She's not hurt this time. The wound that had momentarily incapacitated her did not exist here. Her pistol was in her hand, trained onto the middle of his faceplate, finger poised to pull the trigger at any second.

Sometimes the Ravager, no...Ramattra, yeah that was his name, right? Sometimes he was bound, but most of the time he was not, just as it was in reality.

He never leaves, always waiting patiently for her to do something, say something, but the dream almost never progresses beyond this point.

Yet this time, it's almost different. Rather than the street where he found her by her ruined mech, she's standing in the alley where she found him, but he's whole. She's not wounded, no casts on her body at all. Both are the best possible versions of themselves now.

The staff he holds is pointed at her, both of them in a standoff before the dream Ramattra lowers it and tilts his head.

"Do you hate me?" he asks casually, as if the omnic had merely asked her for the time, and she just stares blankly at him, unable to fully process the change in her dream.

Her mouth opens to answer that of course she hates him. Hates the fact that she had unknowingly helped begin another Crisis. Yet nothing comes out. Instead she shakes her head and lowers her firearm, even though instinct is telling her that it's a bad idea.

"I...I kind of..." The Girl Who Is Hana and Not Hana begins, her mouth suddenly feeling dry and when she looks up again, the scene has once more changed. No alley, no street, no ruined structures or Tokki. She's back in her workshop, her hand now pressed against his metallic one. That is now attached to his body. Palm to palm, flesh and metal.

The Ravager Who Is Ramattra and Not leans down and vents out air like a sigh near her face and repeats, "Do you hate me, Hana?"

--

Brown eyes blink and open slowly, the sound of a phone beeping somewhere close by. Sluggishly, the girl searches for the offender under her covers until her right pinky brushes against something metallic. Closing her hand around it, Hana sits up from her bed and glares at her phone's screen, pressing 'X' to dismiss her alarm.

"...dak-cho..."

She knew she had to get up, there was supposed to be a meeting briefing after breakfast today, and she had promised Alek-er- Zarya, that she would do some weight lifting with her before that.

"Bright and early." The former weight lifting champion had said. And yeah, that should be...right now. Yet Hana is slow to get out of bed, fingers pressed to her temples as she reflects on the dream she has just awakened from.

Why did she keep dreaming about that memory? And why was it that this time, it was different? It had seemed almost too real. Part of it had been of course, since it stemmed from her own memories, but even so...

"Do you hate me?"

A frustrated groan escaped her mouth as her hands tangled themselves into her hair and scratched at her scalp. That wasn't even a fucking question. It was fact that she hated Ramattra. So why was he plaguing her dreams with that?

And then there was that...she brought her right hand down to stare at it, still somewhat remembering the feel of his hand when she had been working on it back in Busan. She remembered agonizing over the details for days and still coming up with something less than desired, but still operational enough to deem 'usable'.

Fingers that he had replaced when they met again. She had noticed that, even through the haze of destruction and the pain at her side. Rubbing the scar she had obtained from that, Hana made a face before finally making the decision to get up. It wouldn't serve any purpose to continue thinking about her dream, or that omnic in particular. At least not in the capacity that she's been doing lately.

On that day, she had promised him. One that she fully intended to keep. Right after her training with Zarya and breakfast though.

—

"30....31...." ugh, not even close to halfway done with her workout and Hana can already feel her arms protesting as she readjusts her grip on the monkey bar. 

“Come on D.Va, you can do pull ups faster than that!” a heavily accented voice eggs her on from somewhere behind her and she tilts her head just so so she can look at Zarya’s face. The former heavyweight competitor was lifting a barbell that was easily twice Hana’s weight, yet the Russian Amazon was barely breaking a sweat. 

Instead of answering her, Hana stuck out her tongue and continued her pull ups, up until 50 when she finally allowed herself to drop down to the mats below. Placing a hand on her hip, she flexed her left arm, showing Zarya the smallest of biceps and triceps. It wasn't like she had nothing to show, but she was no bodybuilder. “Probably in a few weeks I will, I don’t necessarily need a lot of uh, physical strength for piloting Tokki.”

Zarya only shook her head and let the barbell drop with a loud thud at her feet. “No, but what will you do when your mech is too damaged to pilot. Like in Toronto?” She walked closer to Hana and stopped just a few inches away from her, easily towering over the small Korean. “I am not saying to fight off an omnic with nothing, but let’s say you do need to be physical. Do you think you could hold off that omnic until your team reaches you?”

Crossing her arms, Hana bit her lips and pretended to think hard about it. Technically she had once, but it wasn’t because there had been an actual confrontation. Not a physical one at least. Just a Ravager who was the leader of their current common enemy. Actually, she shouldn’t have thought about it because it was making her angry. So instead, she finally shrugged and turned back to the monkey bar, jumping up to grab ahold of it once more to do another rep.

“Hana?” Zarya’s tone was concerned, in the way an older sister would be, or perhaps an aunty. 

She shook her head as she began to pull herself up. “No, you’re right, I should push myself a little more. If I can’t even defeat one Slicer with my bare hands in such a case, then I'd just be a cringe-fail loser, el-oh-el.” Punctuated with a giggle. Classic D.va.

Zarya laughed, and Hana inwardly gave herself a pat on the back. She had never told anyone about her meeting with Ramattra, because then…

It would only bring her even more guilt than she was already feeling.  

–

After training was a quick breakfast, and then it was on to the mission briefing in the Gibraltar war room. The older members of Overwatch had already assembled earlier than the new recruits which consisted of Lucio, Zarya, Brigitte, Baptiste, and herself so far. She didn’t know if more people would join them, but she certainly hoped so. They were so few while Null Sector had the advantage over them in numbers. The only saving grace is that the new omnics being produced by the Null Sector omniums weren’t gifted with sentience.

After everyone had gathered, Winston, with the help of Mei, had handed everyone their mission details. The folders contained different profiles for all the Null Sector units they had come across thus far. Slicers, Eradicators, the Null Titans (that one she hadn’t caught a glimpse of yet, but given the sheer size she was a bit grateful. It reminded her too much of the Colossus), and Stalkers. Hana looked down at her own files, thumbing through the pages before finding one that caught her attention. 

It was a slightly out of focus headshot of Ramattra. Again, she found herself frowning, instantly reaching towards one of the pens that had been left on the table and quickly doodling all over his picture. Beside her, Lucio noticed and he lightly tapped her arm so that she would pay attention. Vivian had taken the floor.

Vivian Chase. Sojourn. She had once been one of the captains for Overwatch before the Petras Act forced the shutdown of all their operations. She had been the one to find Hana in Toronto after Ramattra had left, nearly passed out from blood loss. She never mentioned the cloak that Hana had bundled herself up in while she waited for the rest of the team. Angela had been furious, instantly flooding her body with the nanobiotic energy from her staff. 

Hana had to endure an hours-long lecture on the flight back to Gibraltar from them both.

“Glad to see you back with us, Miss Song.” Sojourn said, before clicking on the remote she was holding and bringing up a holo-screen showcasing a world map. It was littered with small red dots, no doubt places where they would all be dispatched to later to deal with whatever the problem was. It seemed it wasn’t just Null Sector. Talon was also a problem. Cairo, Lijiang, Suravasa…there were so many places. Her eyes flicked from dot to dot, hoping that wherever she was going, that Null Sector would be there. 

‘ And with luck…he could be there too .’ she thought to herself, gripping the pen harder in her hands.

[bunnyreaper]

bunny real shit your interpretation of gabe and reaper are my favorite so as my headcanon expert i gotta ask u something that has plagued me

how do you think reaper and gabe would handle meeting other versions of themselves, multiverse style?

ilysm ty 🐀💕

My first thought for Reaper was him meeting his RMWIRA-verse counterpart.

In the story, Reaper is still troubled, but hasn't felt the alienation from Overwatch to the same degree. Instead of establishing Blackwatch, he's striking out on his own, using his Reaper persona to enact his vigilante justice on terrorist omnics and other criminals. 

I think canon Reaper meeting this Reaper would obviously ideologically butt heads, and while having a sense of respect for each other's conviction, they'd have to take each other out. 

So canon Reaper and RMWIRA Reaper would be going round trying to take out the other-- though any encounters would be rife with witty repartee and "my shotgun is bigger than your shotgun". 

I think canon Reaper would probably think he's superior to most other Reaper's (sorry horse Reaper, he's probably judging the fuck out of you...) 

Gabe would undoubtedly be amused. I think if he had to work together with his counterpart, their stubbornness would make things difficult for them but they'd respect the hell out of each other. Definitely share a drink and a cigar.

I'd like to think Gabe would also take a moment to realize what a handsome bastard he is... I hope.

My idea for his counterpart would be in a world where the omnic crisis never happened. I think here my thought is that Gabe would still join the army, but wouldn't face the loss and war that canon Gabe has. I imagine him as a peacetime General, and therefore he gets to be a little softer, a little less damaged. Overwatch wouldn't exist, and he and Jack would get to be more civilian and like, attend barbecues together or something.

I think canon Gabe would honestly be a little torn up about his counterpart getting to live a life not experiencing the things he has, not carrying the burdens he does and getting to have closer relationships with the people around him.

Other fun thoughts: 

- Gabe/Reaper criticizing their multiverses sense of style/outfit choices. Especially when Reaper meets a kawaii version of himself.

- Gabe/Reaper somehow being drawn to you in every universe, whether it's the multiverse version having their own you, or just being drawn to the original you when you cross paths

- Gabe finding it amusing and strange in equal measure when he meets the one version of himself in a polycule with you and Jack (sksksksk)

- Gabe/Reaper, despite their actual thoughts/realizations, calling their counterpart an ugly bastard, because of course 

- Gabe/Reaper reaching an agreement with their counterpart to tag team the fuck out of you and fulfil that fantasy 😏 (now I'm gonna have to go write this... fuck)  

[iobartach]

@gazelessmenagerie [mauga] // continued from: x

Like the plague, he thinks to himself, declining the urge to put the sentiment into words. Mauga's return had brought with it an end to his current task, seen off with just a hint of regret, having passed the time away observing samples of biological matter under a microscope. "It's Miguel to you." The sharp correction prompts a furrowing of brows, clearly nettled by the giant's preference for nicknames, but not enough to ignore him completely.

No comments arise at the report of another successful mission, for Miguel had learnt fairly quickly that such achievements usually came at a cost. Paid either in scrapped and pillaged Omnic corpses, or organic victims, it's a warped sport that Mauga appeared to take much delight in recounting. "Fascinating, I'm sure... and...about that... Did you bring back the samples I requested?" He had tried to avoid asking, to not stoop to this level. But, without Mauga present, he'd found it increasingly difficult to roam around freely, and had been stopped, on more than one occasion, all to be turned back towards the lab, and the work responsible.

"The same as it's always been. In a word; eventful."

[therealrattlehead]

Because God Knows I Don’t Want to be an Angel: A Ramattra/Maximilien Fan Fiction

Summary: I Ramattra is a trusted business partner with Talon. However, despite his sophisticated position, it fails to quench his ever growing need to be violent to those who anger him. After another one of his little stints, Max takes it upon himself to teach Ramattra a lesson, just as he's done every time before.

WC: 7,000+, first 1007 words available here, rest is found on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

A/N: Hello!! Sorry for the hiatus ><!! I hope you guys enjoy!!

When Ramattra had created his deal with Talon when he tied the ribbon that wrapped Null Sector and Talon together, there was only one rule for him to follow: do not fuck anything up. Talon had done their best to accommodate him, putting him under the hands of one of their most influential, Omnic counselors: Maximilien. He was the kind of rule Ramattra needed. He was respectful and stern, yet could contrast with Ramattra by using his slick demeanor and expensive taste. He balanced Ramattra out, making him more tolerable, especially when in a bad mood. He kept Ramattra together, which kept Null Sector and parts of Talon together. Ramattra had grown close to the Omnic, often staying with him in his room and office and wading by his side during meetings. It might’ve been safe to say that Max had a hand on him, a heavy hand that kept him in his place, which was by Max’s side. Ramattra was good, calm, and, most importantly, stable as long as he had Max.

On the other hand, Max also seemed to enjoy Ramattra’s presence. He seemed more comfortable with Ramattra by his side, keeping him around like some kind of mechanical guard dog. Ramattra naturally looked angrier than Maxmillian, with angry upturned optical slits in his face plate and a long, sharp face that made Ramattra look like he was constantly sneering in disdain. Long, wild ribbon cables framed his face and neck, making him look more prominent. He was interested when Max needed him to be, and he was conversational enough that no employees asked Max what was wrong with his newest companion. However, Max never saw Ramattra as the intimidating, brooding Omnic everyone else saw. To him, Ramattra was a shiny accessory, an extra weapon in his extensive arsenal. A weapon that Max took ample care of, of course. He wiped Ramattra clean, took him to expensive bars and casinos, and spoiled him with only the most lavish gifts. He was biased towards Ramattra, and Max had to ensure everyone saw it.

It was the same behind closed doors as well. Their nights were mainly on Max sitting on Ramattra’s lap, polishing his face plate and cooing to him like a new, pristine toy. Ramattra would hold Max, gently running his hands up and down Max’s body as he was polished. Sometimes Ramattra would give Max his sweet words, his systems heating up as he watched Max hide his face like a giddy little schoolgirl. Max was incredibly touchy, always running his hands over Ramattra’s body in some way or another. He’d run a hand over Ramattra’s back in the faces of company, hold Ramattra’s arm in meetings, and idly toy with Ramattra’s ribbons when they sat in Max’s office. Ramattra usually met these touches with groans and sighs, but Max could see right through him. Ramattra enjoyed his company, just as Max had enjoyed his, and Max planned to keep it that way.

However, despite the showers of attention he had received from Max, Ramattra still had a certain bloodlust that he needed to quell. Violent images plagued his mind, his soul, and his body. He thirsted for the specific brand of chaos he was known for, the fear it garnered, and the attention focused on him and Null Sector. Unfortunately, it was an adrenaline feeling that he loved, a lust that drove him wild. It made him want to run out into the world, hunting for something to feed his growing hunger for violence. But, his appetite needed to be kept calm and quelled not to disrupt the delicate balance that was the deal between Talon and Null Sector. It had already taken him so long to find someone to hear his message. He didn’t need to lose the opportunity now.

Nobody is perfect, though.

Ramattra isn’t too sure what had gotten into him. Maybe it was because it was dark and Ramattra hated the dark, or perhaps it was because there were too many people around and Ramattra hated people, but any explanation could be used to excuse what he did.

He had gone out into the night, the pale moon bathing Ramattra’s metallic features in a coat of blinding white light. Small stars twinkled in the sky, a dark, dazzling scarf wrapping around the Earth. The district of Monte Carlo was bustling, excited crowds laughing and screaming amongst themselves, gossip flying through the air like little, tainted fireflies. Giant skyscrapers caressed the skies, their golden lights flooding the streets and lighting up the crowds. Groups of men and women flocked through the various bars and restaurants, some becoming so wasted that all they could do was drunkenly stumble through the streets, mumbling and bumbling and laughing over anything they found remotely interesting. It was a city of bliss that Ramattra could not feel, no matter how hard he tried. All he could do was awkwardly walk through the crowds, a strange, tight void filling. It could only be defined as one thing: loneliness. Max wasn’t there with him; he was one of the only Omnics in sight and the only Ravager on the street.

Ramattra had been doing an alright job at minding his own business. Despite the scattered stares and scowls, he would receive and the hushed whispers about the gigantic robot roaming the streets, Ramattra had continued to wander forward. Max wanted him to get out and explore the city, so Ramattra respected his request despite Max remaining at his headquarters. Ramattra looked around, his eyes scanning the rows and rows of fancy boutiques and dimly lit bars, but there wasn’t a thing he found interesting. He had some kind of hope. Maybe there was a bookshop nearby, one where he could peacefully huddle in the corner and read an excellent book, or a cafe where he could simply just admire the mountainous scenery of Monaco. He just wanted to hide. To curl up in a little ball and avoid all the bitter, human stares.

And then it happened.

[austerulous]

◈   @tamedgod​ said:  ❛ (For Dez); Not much grew out here anymore, that much was obvious — but there was always some life that crept back first. They grew in the crevices of Junkertown, and Haru had gone out of her way to find them; small lilacs, even smaller peonies. They weren't much, but — they were something. A sign of things to come... a sign the outback would heal. She arranges the flowers gently in the nicest, least beat up scrap cup she can find, making a small bouquet. She'd set it next to Dez's bed, before taking the largest peony of the bunch to tuck into the woman's armor.. ❝Thought I would surprise you — if you like them. ❞ ❜

Gathered in a posy, the cluster of blossoms huddled together in their old tin can.  One with no dents, only a little dull, a little scratched.  A surprise, indeed.  One that stirred the silt of memory, raising the dead, bringing the past into soft focus.  The daisy print of her mother’s blouse, the dirt caked into her father’s nail beds.  Thick fingers closed around the flowers he brought every time he returned from the mine site.  Always a muddle of sweetpea, cornflower, eucalyptus.  

That was before.  Now there was no mother, no father, no sisters, no brother.  No vase of rippled glass, with an endearing chip in its rim.  They had all been swallowed by the Wasteland, had withered into dust along with the flowers.  Their bones slept in beds of poisoned sand, where they were choked by roots and weeds.

No smell of decay, only the sweet-spice of the peonies, the powdered honey fragrance of the lilacs.  They were flowers Odessa did not know by name, all the more beautiful for their mystery, for their rarity.  How uncommon it was for her to look at her boots, at what lay rotting in the dirt – her eyes were almost always pinned to the horizon, or filled with the sight of her own terrible hands.  Evidently, she had missed this regrowth, this quiet promise of healing.  Therein lay the beauty of the organic – its perseverance, its ability to stumble back from the brink.  Unlike the Omnic plague, with its mercifully finite generation of machines.  In time, they would all be scrapped.  Maybe then there could be more green in the world.

Something inside the queen cracked, splintered.  Odessa hid the wound with a smirk, shedding the dead-eyed look of one lost in the past.

“You’re the first person to bring me flowers.  The first I can remember, anyway.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth, than Odessa recognised the lie.  How her father had so often plucked a cornflower from her mother’s bouquet, hooking its slender stem behind her ear.  A blossom brilliant in its blueness, nestled among tendrils of mud-coloured hair.  Thoughtfully, the queen of heat and ruin thumbed the peony nestled on her armoured vest.  Its petals were almost unbearably soft and delicate.

“I like ‘em – but don’t you think they’re wasted on me?”

[chronal-anomaly]

@avalior asked:

"You dyed your hair?" Somehow, the idea of Lena changing in any way, being any less the irrepressible force he had known and re-shaped, re-molded, into something new, seemed alien -- the idea of her bedecked in bright, garish colours and harsh spikes, tossing up devil's horns and throwing her head back and forth as though she wished for an immediate and messy divorce from her own vertebrae, did not easily transpose itself onto the Lena Genji had known, and yet it seemed to fit, in some strange, unknown way. A broad smile lilted in his tone, hidden behind the smooth planes and soft glow of his mask. "I used to too! Did you ever try green?"( Unprompted || always accepting )

The pictures strewn about the old oak table wove a tale that the years dared to attempt to erase - Lena, dying her hair a violent purple in a bathtub, a masked group hanging from hand-tied harness against one of the many anti-omnic billboards that plagued the streets of London, colorful liberty spikes adorning her hair as Lena's body thrummed along to a heavy baseline at an underground concert. Many of people in the photos had been lost to time, but a swell of pride burned through her small statue at their memories nonetheless.

"New color, every month! Used to joke that it made it harder for the bobbies to identify me, though I think the spikes did me in once or twice." Lena's fingers carded through wavy dark locks almost unconsciously, reminiscing on the the burnt and dead hairs that they eventually shaved off before growing it once again.

"No way?? I don't think ever did green - I was rather keen on the purples and reds, though sometimes it was whatever the shop had, or that I could nick from someone else. Did you only do green or did you do other colors too?"

[nitewrighter]

If/When Rei discovers Genji’s involvement with Blackwatch and the shady things that he did, how does she first react and/or how does she find out? I haven’t read too much of your writing yet, so apologies if there’s already a fic covering this topic!

*PSA voice* “Have you talked to YOUR kids about kinslaying, war crimes, and vigilanteism today?”

----

The vacuum whirred just on the periphery of Genji's hearing with his earbuds as he cleaned. It was a podcast on Omnic mental health that Zenyatta had recommended to him a few weeks back and he was only now really listening to. Well, not really listening to, but the conversation was a nice thing to half-pay attention to while cleaning up around the apartment.

He hesitated near the doorway to Rei's room for a few seconds, mindlessly shifting the vacuum back and forth over a section of hallway. Too many clothes on Rei's floor to vacuum, but he briefly considered tossing them all into her hamper before reminding himself that she had to do that herself. A slice of light suddenly flooded into the apartment with the opening of the front door, and Genji looked over his shoulder down the hall.

"Hey, sunshine!" Genji pulled out one earbud, his face brightening at her, as he talked loudly over the vacuum, "How was school?"

Rei startled a little in the doorway, the sunlight at her back, and then her eyes flicked down for a few seconds. "School was... fine."

"Rei?" Genji pulled out the other earbud and turned off the vacuum.

"It was fine," Rei said a bit more firmly and Genji tilted his head a little. Rei's fingers rolled on the strap of her backpack. She was 11 now, a scrappy little thing just starting another growth spurt that jauntily pushed her closer to her mother's elegant height, but for now really just plagued her with clothes that didn't quite fit at any given time. Long sleeves exposed bony wrists, pants never seemed to know where to sit on the waistline, and sinewy little ankles peeked out at her cuffs. And with Genji's mesomorph genes she had a torso that was oddly short that further highlighted the current gangliness of her limbs.

"Are you sure? Because you seem a little..." Genji didn't know how to finish the sentence. Was it a puberty thing? Sure she was going through a growth spurt right now but that was still a ways off, right?

Rei pursed her lips. "The kids at school they--they were talking about Overwatch---what their parents told them about it--I--" her mouth hung open, jaw quivering with words that wouldn't quite form, "They said--they said... us living here was a danger to the whole city. To the school. They said Talon would come, or Null Sector--"

Oh thank goodness, thought Genji, before that thought quickly morphed into, Oh no.

"We would never let that happen," said Genji, on reflex. 

"They're on the news all the time, Dad, they attack all over the world-"

Genji inhaled and exhaled a steadying breath, then stepped toward Rei and put his hands on her shoulders. "To be honest, we're just as scared about that sort of thing happening as you are. But that's why we made lots of plans, so if anything like that ever happens--"

"Is Overwatch good or bad?" Rei suddenly blurted out.

Genji blinked a few times before managing, "...good, Rei. We're good. We... try to be good."

Those big dark gray eyes were searching him, a discerning look she definitely got from her mother.

"Rei..." he started slowly, "You... can't control every side effect of your actions, nor can you know what side effects your actions can even have. But... we re-formed Overwatch because the world needed people to stand against Talon and Null Sector. We know... that makes Gibraltar a target, but we'll defend it with our lives if anything ever happens."

"But the old Overwatch--when I asked my teacher about it--" A new strain slipped onto Rei's voice and Genji exhaled.

Genji sighed. "Okay--let's... sit down."

Rei tilted her head at him but Genji just made his way over to the couch and sat down. Rei trailed after him and plopped down beside him.

"...do you remember when Uncle Hanzo told you about... what happened between us?" Genji said slowly.

"Mostly?" Rei's face scrunched up a little, "...I remember crying..."

"It.. really hurt you to know that Uncle Hanzo hurt me," said Genji, "It hurt you to know that the Shimada clan hurt and killed people. Because we love you, Rei, and because we respect you, we've known there's a lot of painful history that you need to know to understand... why the world for you is the way it is."

Rei leaned forward a little.

"But if you're not ready for knowing that history, we want to respect that, too," said Genji, "You're only eleven. You shouldn't have to feel like you need to defend us when you're at school. You're not Overwatch, you're.... Rei." He touched Rei’s forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze, "You're our Rei."

Rei's gaze remained steady.

"...so here's what's going to happen," said Genji, drawing his hand back, "If you want me to tell you everything about my time with the old Overwatch--the good and the bad--you just say so--"

"Yes--" Rei started.

"But--" said Genji, "You haven't heard the second part of it."

Rei furrowed her brow.

 “I’m just...” Genji itched at his cybernetic jawline with one finger, “I’m going to ask you to take a breath and think, for a second--are you sure you think you’re ready for that story? Remember how you felt when Hanzo told you what he did, and ask yourself if you’re ready to hear something like that again. Ask yourself if you’re... ready to see me in that light.” 

Rei pursed her lips and inhaled through her nose. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she said, “But I have to know.”

“All right,” He took out his comm and shortly texted something before his comm made the swoosh sound of a message sent, “We’ll wait til your mother gets home.”

"You can't tell me now?!" Rei huffed.

"Well... that was the thing that happened with Hanzo--we all agreed we'd tell you together when you were ready, and Hanzo....just told you, and we weren't there, and that hurt you, and we weren't there to help. We want to tell you everything, believe me, I want to do everything in my power to keep you from making our mistakes, and part of that is you knowing the story--but your mother is a part of this story, Rei. I wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be your dad if not for her. So we’re not going to leave her out of it."

Rei’s lips were still thin.

“What?” said Genji.

“Usually when you say, ‘Wait til your mother gets home--’“ Rei started, but Genji’s comm buzzed. 

He glanced at his comm. “She’s on her way,” he said before pocketing the comm again.

Rei blinked. “...this is a big deal isn’t it? Mom doesn’t usually... drop everything like that.”

“Well... we also agreed this is how we should do things after Uncle Hanzo told you what he did.”

“Is this better or worse than what Uncle Hanzo told me?” said Rei, her voice taut.

“Rei... Sometimes there isn’t a good guy in the story,” said Genji, “And a lot of the time, these things aren’t easily measured.”

Rei looked down. He chucked her chin a little and her eyes flicked up to him. “Hey,” he said, “Let’s fix some tea.”

-----

Rei was carefully pouring out genmaicha into mugs when Mercy came home. There was a clear concern on Mercy’s face as she swept into the house, quickly setting her things on the couch and briskly walking over to Rei.

“Rei--what happened? Are you okay?” she said, tucking some of Rei’s hair back.

“I’m--I’m fine...” Rei said, setting the teapot down on its wooden trivet. 

“Some kids were talking at her school,” said Genji, “...her teacher, too.” 

“...she said the old Overwatch was corrupt,” said Rei, “That... you’re all breaking the law by being here. By fighting.”

Mercy’s mouth opened for a few seconds.

“That’s--not true, is it?” said Rei.

Mercy gave a glance to Genji and then back to Rei. “Sunneschii,” she started slowly, “You should sit down.”

Rei took a seat, taking her own mug of tea. 

“So... Overwatch was founded to stop the Omnic Crisis,” said Mercy, interlacing her fingers in front of herself.

“I know that,” said Rei with an eye-roll.

“We know,” said Mercy,��“But what you have to understand is, from its conception it was, what Jack would call a ‘Hail Mary pass.’ It was a desperate pooling of assets, personnel, and resources, many of them still experimental, some of them even formerly involved with the Omnica Corporation themselves.”

“Doctor Liao?” said Rei, and Mercy nodded.

“It was formed with the singular purpose,” Mercy went on, “Stopping the Omnics from wiping out humanity. It had many assets that were necessary in pushing it towards that goal; ambassadors and advocates and politicians from around the world, all streamlining the collaboration of different scientists and military factions. And... they stopped the Crisis. Omnics were even able to gain... some regards of citizenship in some parts of the world. So with the Omnic Crisis over, Overwatch was standing there, all of these resources, in place... and it wanted to do good in the world. Now that it wasn’t focusing on humanity avoiding annihilation, it turned out there was a whole lot of good it could do.”

“...Reinhardt called them the Golden years,” said Rei.

“Well... Overwatch did do a lot of good in that time,” Mercy stirred her tea a little, “And it was doing enough good so that I was willing to accept Jack’s offer and join.”

“And... Dad joined after?”

“’Joined’ is... one way to put it,” said Genji.

“We told you I rescued your father and he joined Overwatch after,” said Mercy, “What... we didn’t really mention at the time was...”

“I had a criminal record,” said Genji, “I was... already committing assassinations for the Shimada Clan, and I was involved with other aspects of the Shimada clan’s... business. Actually before your mother rescued me, Overwatch’s initial plan was to arrest me and use me to drag the rest of the Shimada clan into the light.”

Rei’s thick Shimada brows crinkled. 

“But then Hanzo nearly killed me, your Mother rescued me and... Overwatch reconsidered their approach. Blackwatch made me an offer--help them take down the Shimada Clan and I could earn a pardon for all of my activities under them.”

Rei’s lips parted and she blinked a few times looking down into her own tea mug, processing this. 

“Most Shimada clan operations were shut down just using my intel--investigations, and arrests... but...” Genji felt at his own prosthetic wrist, “I was filled with rage over what had been done to me. I didn’t want to just see the clan shut down, I wanted to see it destroyed. I wanted Uncle Hanzo dead, too.”

Rei’s shoulders visibly tensed.

“We killed people, Rei. Blackwatch killed people. I killed several members of the Shimada clan’s council. My own family. Because I knew they wanted me dead.”

Rei gave a sharp glance to Mercy as if to say, That can’t be true, that can’t be the story, but Mercy just sipped at her own tea. 

“It turned out Blackwatch was... very flexible when it came to how they wanted to take down the clan,” Mercy said, giving a glance to Genji, “Reyes had no qualms with Genji killing clan heads if it meant shutting down their operations.” 

“But--the clan heads were bad people--” Rei said, fingers tensing around her mug, “Uncle Hanzo said so too.” 

“But that doesn’t make it right, Rei,” said Genji, “I became the worst version of everything the clan had tried to make me into, but I became that to destroy them. That doesn’t make me good. Vengeance isn’t the same as justice--but for Blackwatch my vengeance was a means to an end.” 

Rei was quiet for a few moments. All Genji could think of looking at her was the image of a heavy stone being dropped into the water--the knowledge that the stone was still sinking deeper and deeper down even as the surface calmed. “So Blackwatch was bad?” Rei said at last.

“Well... in terms of not respecting the jurisdiction of local law enforcement and governments, yes, absolutely, but in terms of actually effectively stopping major criminal activity--” Genji gave a glance to Mercy, whose own mouth had twisted to one side with unsureness, and Genji cleared his throat. “We were operating with mostly only Reyes as oversight. There should have been far more accountability.”

“Supposedly Reyes answered to Jack but... they were... compromised by each other,” said Mercy, “Willing to flout protocol--willing to let each other undermine limits on their own power, because they both believed in each other more than any rules.” 

“So Overwatch was corrupt,” said Rei.

“Yes,” said Mercy, “I think... for the most part, most of the people running it were doing so with the best intentions. Even Reyes had good intentions. But intention and impact are two very different things. And when you’re willing to bend rules at that high of an office, that creates a precedent within the organization. People are more willing to try and see what they can get away with... and when an organization has as much power and resources as Overwatch...” Mercy trailed off.

“Did... you... try to see what you could get away with?” asked Rei.

“Mostly I was concerned with what other people were trying to get away with with regards to my work,” said Mercy with a bitter scoff, “I never really forgave them for using my technology to build Ana’s rifle. But I was short-sighted. I was so concerned with my own inventions and work that when I’d finally get away from the lab I’d see the organization as a whole getting worse and worse...and that was a whole new outrage, and I’d plunge into my work all over again,” She glanced off a bit, “I wonder at what point all my complaints became white noise for Jack...”

“Eventually the world found out about Blackwatch after something called the Venice Incident. Overwatch became mired in scandal. Blackwatch was suspended--I was basically stuck at the Zurich headquarters until Reinhardt retired and Torbjörn left after him, and they had to put together a new strike team with Tracer as the leader.”

“Tracer told me lots of stories from then!” Rei’s eyes brightened, but she seemed to catch herself, her eyes becoming slightly distant. Mercy could recognize it immediately, all the cylinders in Rei’s brain firing off lining up Tracer’s narrative with what they had just told her, “But when she talked about it... she sounded a lot happier.”

“That strike team did mean a lot to her,” said Genji with an amused huff.

“Tracer’s strike team was supposed to be the face of a better, more accountable Overwatch,” said Mercy, “But by then tensions were rising between Reyes and Morrison...”

“...and then I left,” Genji said a bit abruptly.

“You left?!” Rei blurted out.

“I knew I wasn’t the person I wanted to be with Overwatch. Not then,” said Genji.

“But what about all the crime stuff? The pardon?” said Rei.

“We shut down the last Shimada operation outside of Japan, and as part of Overwatch’s damage control following the Venice Incident and Blackwatch’s suspension, a lot of Overwatch’s casework was turned over to local governments,” Mercy explained, “Ironically, by taking the Shimada Clan off of Overwatch’s hands, Genji was able to earn his pardon a lot more quickly.”

“Turned out Gérard LaCroix could draw up one hell of a contract,” said Genji, sipping his own tea. 

“Who?” Rei tilted her head.

“That’s a story for another time,” said Mercy.

“So Dad left...” Rei said slowly, before glancing to Mercy, “And you left with him?”

“No...” said Mercy, a little distantly, “I stayed on longer. But I slowly realized I wasn’t staying because I wanted to--I wasn’t staying because I believed in Overwatch anymore. I was staying for the team.... I was staying because I couldn’t just leave all of Overwatch’s humanitarian work. I did leave on my own, eventually. After Uncle Cole left. But then...”

“Zurich Headquarters exploded,” said Genji, “Did... your class talk about that?”

“A little... The teacher said that was when Overwatch was declared illegal,” she pursed her lips, “I don’t get it though--Why would you get punished for something bad happening to you? It’s not like Overwatch would blow itself up!”

“The truth is, we don’t really know what caused that explosion,” said Mercy, “But that explosion was the tipping point for a lot of people: if we couldn’t even protect ourselves, how could we hope to protect them? And if the explosion was caused by someone within Overwatch... all the more reason for the UN to pull its funding and for different countries to cut ties with it.” 

“There had been pushes to disband Overwatch before,” said Genji, glancing off, “This was just... what finally did it.”

“So that’s true?” said Rei, “What you’re doing is illegal?”

“Well.. yes,” said Mercy.

“But ‘legal’ doesn’t always mean ‘right’ Rei,” Genji chimed in, “Do you remember when we went to London?”

“Yes...?” Rei started a little hesitantly.

“You remember how they treated the Omnics there?” said Genji, “Making them live underground? The police pulling them aside just for walking on the street?”

“Uh huh,” said Rei.

“That was legal, there. The law dictated that Omnics would be treated worse than people. And that’s not right, is it?”

“No...” Rei said quietly.

Mercy reached over and put her hand over Rei’s. “But just because the law can be wrong, that doesn’t put us in the right. It was right to shut down the old Overwatch. We only answered the recall because... things got really bad, and we thought saving lives was more important than obeying the law--but we have to be careful. We’re second-guessing ourselves all the time because we don’t want to make the same mistakes the old Overwatch did.”

Something flickered in Rei’s face then, a sudden recognition of every moment her parents had ever second-guessed her, every moment of hesitation she had ever registered in their eyes when she asked them a question. 

“The reason we teach you self-defense, Rei, isn’t because we want you to have anything to do with Overwatch’s fight. We teach it to you so you can protect yourself from that fight,” said Mercy. 

The line of Rei’s mouth wibbled and she looked to Genji, something burning in her throat that she was only just recognizing as a childish string of logic. The fight is where you are, and if you don’t want me there, then you don’t want me with you. But her eyes flicked to Mercy again, and she saw the steadiness in her mother’s expression and Rei’s eyes widened. The fight isn’t home, Rei thought, I’m home.

Rei’s eyes got wet for a few moments. “So... you aren’t here because you want to be,” her voice was getting thick.

“Rei--” Genji put a hand on her shoulder, “It’s true that..  a lot of things happened, that were far beyond our control...”

“But we wouldn’t be together if it weren’t for all those things--and you are the best thing that came from all of it,” Mercy cupped a hand to Rei’s cheek. 

“And we’ll do everything in our power to make sure you have the life you want-- not our pain, not our fight,” said Genji.

“You won’t.. leave me to do that?” Rei’s voice was still thick.

“Oh Sunneschiii,” Mercy said softly.

The lines along Rei’s eyes were shining with tears now. She put her hand over Mercy’s on her cheek, and both Mercy and Genji closed around her in a hug. It wasn’t the end of it, not by a long shot, but it was at this point that all three parties reocgnized they would need time--time to let the information sink in, time to process, time to recover, and time for more questions to bubble to the surface. For now, it had been done: Acknowledging that, yes, Overwatch’s past was uglier than the idealism of Winston that had drawn them together for the recall. Genji just hoped that Rei might be able to define her Shimada blood as more than trauma, and Mercy just hoped Rei would seek out a life well out of the range of their fight. They would and wouldn’t get their wishes, as these things often work out.

----

Hours passed. They had dinner (quiet, mostly pasta) and after a couple hours of homework, Rei eventually excused herself to go to bed, no doubt filling her sheets with eraser nubs as she sketched under the light of her bedside lamp. Work for Mercy and Genji was its own welcome distraction before as well. Both Mercy and Genji were sloughing into their own pajamas, cold Gibraltar condensation and the warm steam from the bathroom blurring their window.

“Do you think we did all right?” Mercy was toweling off her face as she stepped out of the bathroom, “I mean--she... seemed to take it well. And it doesn’t look like she’s called the police on the watchpoint. What do you think?”

“Honestly it went a lot better than I feared it could go,” said Genji, glancing up from his tablet in bed.

“I suppose in a way the whole ordeal with Hanzo... broke her in,” Mercy said, a bit absently before tossing her towel in the hamper. 

“If there’s one thing the clan’s generation-long cycles of violence and pain prove, it’s that Shimadas are a resilient bunch!”  Genji said before a hollow chuckle fell out of him.

“Genji,” Mercy said with a tired head tilt.

“I know--I know...” Genji rubbed the back of his neck. “All of it coming up today... I’m glad--I really am glad we did plan about this and talk about this the way we did, I’m glad we had a sense that we knew what to say and that it went as well as it did, but... at the same time I just... it just made me think of...” Genji trailed off as he climbed into bed, “Well...”

“It’s all right, Genji,” Mercy said gently, slipping into bed next to him.

Genji adjusted himself so that he was laying on his side, looking at her, “You remember after Reaper showed up on the Watchpoint? That conversation Winston had with us?”

“Yes...?” Mercy said. settling in on her own side to face him.

“Do you think about that sometimes? What if we left? Took Rei with us?” asked Genji.

“Probably more often than is healthy,” said Mercy with a slight huff.

“I’m glad Rei’s growing up surrounded by these people, but... every time I take off in the Orca I can’t help but think, ‘I would be a better father to her if we weren’t in Overwatch.’ But at the same time... Overwatch is the safest place for us so...” he trailed off again, “Those kids at her school... I don’t know if things are going to get better or worse for her...”

Mercy touched the side of his face, brushing her thumb along the scars on his cheekbones. “You’re here because you believe this is the place you can do the most good. You’re here because you follow your conscience. I don’t think you would be half the father to Rei you are if you didn’t do that.”

Genji put his hand over Mercy’s and turned his head slightly, kissing Mercy’s palm. “I wouldn’t be half the father I am to Rei without you,” he said, his voice warm against her hand, 

Mercy craned forward and kissed his forehead. 

“She’s still going to need a lot of therapy,” Genji said.

“We all do, dear,” said Mercy, snuggling close to him.

[ya-zz]

Ramattra/Zenyatta Drabble

“Is everything okay, brother?” His voice brought Ramattra out of the daze that he had slipped into.

Looking at him for a moment, the larger omnic wondered if everything was going to be okay.

“Brother Zenyatta… I am in need of assistance and possible guidance.” Ramattra finally admits after several seconds.

The smaller monk sits down and tilts his head upwards to face the night sky before speaking. “What do you require?”

Ramattra hesitates. “This… human I have fallen for, I am not so sure on how to proceed.”

“Have you spoken to them, brother?”

“An attempt was made before my system began to heat up beyond my control. I do not wish to scare them. Or to hurt them. For once, brother, a human has made me feel… love.”

“Oh?” Zenyatta hums with amusement as he faces the other omnic.

“I do not wish to put them in danger.” Ramattra looks down at his hands that were resting on his lap. Turning them over, he looks at the dirt within the crevices. “I am not like the others. I was not made to feel love. I was made to kill, to lead others to war.”

“You are not the same omnic as you were all those years ago, brother.”

“Perhaps not, but there are those that still fear me. I fear that if I were to proceed, this human will be in danger too.” Ramattra tilts his head a little lower, squeezing his hand shut, wanting to rid the hurtful memories and the nightmares that have plagued his systems. “I do not want to lose them.”

“Love is fickle, ever changing and growing.” Zenyatta looks back up towards the stars. “Do not let your mind or someone else’s words stop you from loving this person. If you truly love them, brother, you will protect them.”

“Their safety has always been the primary directive.”

“Then you have nothing to fear.” Zenyatta chuckles. He reaches over and places a hand on top of Ramattra’s, sensing there is still more to this. “Brother, lighten that burden.”

“What if-“ he hesitates, “what if I am not good enough for them?” Ramattra looks up and faces his friend. “What if I do something wrong?”

“There will always be hardships within love. It is your decision on how you proceed with them.” Zenyatta turns fully and Ramattra follows, the omnics now sitting directly across from each other.

Ramattra tilts his head to the side.

“This human loves you, correct?” Zenyatta asks.

Ramattra nods.

“You love them, correct?”

Ramattra nods again.

Zenyatta chuckles. “Then you both will make it work. Do not have doubts. They will not help you move forward.”

“I do not want to lose them if something does happen…” Ramattra’s tone shifted to that of sadness that it caught Zenyatta off guard.

“If they love you, they will work through it with you. Talk to them when the time is right. I have full faith in you, brother.”

Ramattra’s systems heat up, a slight twang of pain within his chest.

“Protect this human, give them time when they need it. Make them feel safe in your arms. Talk to them.”

The larger omnic looks up, optical aperture shifting slightly.

“Love this human like it is your system directive, but do not force them.”

“I will never force them to do anything they are uncomfortable with. Their… happiness makes my circuits warm.” If Ramattra could blush, he would, especially after admitting something like that.

“Grow soft with them, brother. Grow with them. Do not let your fears consume you.”

Ramattra nods, letting out a small sigh. “Thank you, brother…”

“The night is still young, brother. Perhaps we can share a moment in harmony before we part ways?” Zenyatta shifts back to face the stars.

“Yes, that would be nice.” Ramattra joins, sitting next to the smaller omnic and resting his hands on his lap.

“Back to old times.”

Ramattra relaxes, shoulders feeling less heavy and his chest a lot less tight.

“Back to old times…”

[asirensrambles]

Spirit of Sleep

Zenyatta spends his nights bringing comfort to who he can, trying to soothe the hurts that working for a recalled Overwatch brings. 

Omnics didn't need sleep like humans did.  They did have rest cycles, where they shut down and recharged, but those were far less often than the humans.  As such, Zenyatta found himself with lots of time to wander the halls of Watchpoint Gibraltar.  

Night was such an odd time in the watchpoint.  It seemed so quiet and calm on the outside, and even within.  Everyone was sleeping, power operating at energy conservation levels, darker, softer lighting.  Although it seemed peaceful, it was anything but.  As he wandered the halls, Zenyatta could feel discord, fear, anger, pain, and so many other harsh emotions wash over him.  It was particularly bad after hard missions.   It was also different depending on where he was.  The rooms of the senior agents, the ones who had served Overwatch in it's (and their) prime were the worst.  So many painful memories the night dug out with practiced ease.  

Zenyatta did what he could to help.  He and Athena had always gotten along, and she was willing to do him some favors every once in a while.  One of those favors was letting him keep the master code for sleeping quarter keypads he'd found.  She knew Zenyatta would never do anything to harm the occupants, or otherwise compromise them.  Athena could also just change the master code if need be.

Sometimes a gentle presence was enough.  There were times when a terror gripped agent could be calmed simply by Zenyatta being in their room.  Other times, all it took was him gently repeating, 'You're not alone, you're safe. You're not alone.'  Other times a shivering agent would wake up to find their room a little warmer in the morning.  Or someone who was plagued with night sweats would wake comfortably warm under the covers, finding their room cooler than they remembered.  For the young, new agents, it was enough.

The veterans were another story.

Yes they'd had more experience with the PTSD and nightmares and emotional toil, but they were also more worn down by it.  Zenyatta found that merely adjusting a temperature, being there was rarely enough.  For the truly bad ones, he left them a gift.  Something to help them sleep for at least one night.

To keep the terrors away, Zenyatta would leave one of his harmony orbs behind.  Carefully stashed in places in the room where they wouldn't be discovered.  While the agents were at breakfast, he returned quickly and quietly to their rooms to retrieve them.  

It wasn't much, Zenyatta could only help a few people a night, but it was something.  

It was something.

[pastellipanic]

Junkenstein's Legend

It isnt a secret that I like Overwatch. It isnt a secret that my favourite event is the Halloween event of Junkensteins revenge. It also isnt a secret that I get hyperfixated onto uncommon things or parts of things. So today, presented by my hyperfixating grey brainmatter, I bring you:

The Full Tale of Junkensteins Revenge

Or, you know, the The Full Tale of Junkensteins Revenge as Theorized by Pastelli During Sleepless Nights. Anyway, we shall start at the beginning!

(Everything in this story is theorized upon the tidbits of canon information from the game, the comics and details of skins, sprays and maps. You are entitled to disagree with my theorization and I will gladly take on any opposing theories if they are given to me with a constructive and positive vibe. I will also gladly have a chat with anyone who is interested in the subject or has ideas I hadnt considered. That being said, Enjoy!)

Chapter 1: The sad beginnings of a mad doctor and his first step onto the battlefield.

Doctor Jamison Junkenstein was a young lad who worked for the local Lord Reinhardt in a town of Adlersbrunn located in the outskirts of Black Forest. He was a brilliant mechanic, engineer and had no fear of working with electricity, hence he had gotten the job in the first place. While his social skills were limited and his fame in the town stained, he was a hard worker and a genius in his own field. At some point during his career, he got bored of the same old electricity and piping, and began to experiment in robotics. His first one was a crude little thing but he was proud of it, so he decided to continue on this path. He began to dream of building live automatons, creatures that could think and feel for themselves. Perhaps it was the fact that he yearned for someone to befriend whilst the townspeople mistreated and disrespected him for his oddities, or perhaps it was his pride towards his own intelligence. However it may be, he started spending more time upon making the automatons, "omnics" as he called them or "Zomnics" as they were later called by the townspeople for their ghastly slow movements. Lord Reinhardt was displeased by him giving his time to such silly things, even more so when Junkenstein came to his door to show them. Every time he made adjustments and showed them to the Lord, he waved the "useless trinkets" away, and everytime his already feeble fame deteriorated in peoples rumours. Madman, lunatic and fool were quickly becoming synonyms for his name. This only spurred him on in his quest to prove them wrong. The metal husks laying in his laboratory soon turned to dug up corpses, the wires he used to put inside turned to stitches on the flesh and what he couldnt understand in anatomy he changed into machinery. Soon he had a body, half organic half inorganic, and all he needed was to make it come alive. Bloodpumping didnt work. Watershocks didnt work. Exchanging the heart into a running motor didnt work. Atlast he tried using electricity to bring his creation to life, unsuccessfully. Junkenstein was exhausted, abused and even his trust in his skills had failed him. He was on the brink of quitting and burying that stupid project, until...

Witch of the Wilds appeared!

The Witch of the Wilds was a well known individual, feared by all near and far for her magic. It was rumoured she could turn coal into gold, make waterfalls run upwards and burn a castle with the flick of her wrist. She was also known from her coming to people at their darkest hour and offering a solution... for a price. And thats exactly what she offered Junkenstein, a solution to his problems; the spark of life. She only asked for a favor, one she would come collect in a nearby future and one that he couldnt refuse. He accepted. He had nothing to lose. Applying the spark of life onto his machine, he started the creatures heart and mind. There were a lot of things that went through its mind when it woke, curiosity and giddiness, but most importantly: Panic. In a furious frenzy it tore itself from its bindings and ran out, into the streets of Adlersbrunn. The townspeople, upon seeing the monster, immediately screamed, cried, yelled, attacked and fled. The monster had no sympathy for people so cruel as the baker who hit it or the children kicking its shins, so he let out his rage onto the masses. It was carnage.

Junkenstein was happy. He had succeeded! His monster was doing exactly what he wanted; avenging the years of societal neglect and bullying Junkenstein had gone through. Yet he had no control over the monster, and no idea how to get it to the Lords doorstep. A couple of hours of manipulating the routes and trying to get the monster where he wanted, he finally got to the door.... Only to find that while he was busy, so was the Lord. He had hired a few wanderers to protect him when he had heard of the happenings in the town. An old soldier searching for a fight, an alchemist practizing her talent, an archer running from the past and a gunslinger hunting for easy money. Only four they were against the doctor, his monster and his minions, and against the Witch of the Wilds and her fearsome ally; a cursed pumpkinheaded man by the name of Reaper. And only four they were who beat him, leaving his corpse battered onto the rocktiles of the yard. His monster was perished, the Witch had fled and the Reaper had gone with her. The wanderers went inside to claim their prize.

Chapter 2: How to tame a monster and revive a doctor.

As the wanderers left the scene, Witch of the Wilds saw her chance to do her work. She quickly used the spark of life to revive Junkenstein, giving his bruised flesh some tidying up whilst doing it, and watched as he sat up. Safe to say, he was pissed to have lost. He wanted to charge right back into fight, but was stopped by the Witch. She managed to make him change his mind, to wait for a year and build his army before trying again, and give her some time to get allies. Gathering what he could of the broken zomnics, Junkenstein found the corpse of his monster and decided to take it back to his lab for revival. He wasnt sure if the creature would run out again or stay, but he wanted to still show the town that he could make something living. This time, when rising from the cold metal table, the monster sat still and stared at Junkenstein. During the fight it had noted that the doctor didnt attack him, even defending him from the attacking gunslinger. It decided to stay near him, for no other reason than that it trusted him. Junkenstein was thrilled to have a friend, even if it did smell of decay a bit.

11 months went by in peace. The town healed, forgot about the incident and, assuming that the wrecked corpse of a homeless man was Junkensteins, buried the past with it. Meanwhile the doctor had other things to think about. He had built an army of zomnics, had tamed the monster and befriended it, had taught it to speak a little and had served the Witch on a few occasions. On some days he still liked to venture into town to see how life was going there. At one point he had almost forgiven the town, before he had come to learn of a new game for the children based after the mocking of his person. Thats when his short temper blew into pieces and he jumped to make an announcement in the middle of the town. He raged, mocked, spat at the townspeople, before revealing his identity and announcing that all of them would perish under his boot. Seeing a dead man back from the grave gave quite a scare to the town, making them panickedly run to the local Lords. They decided that a meeting was to be held to consider this new threat. Some voted to kill Junkenstein again, yet it was deemed to be an ineffective solution due to him coming back the last time. Some voted to trap him and enslave him for the rest of his days, but it was a futile idea for someone like him to be trapped. He would just squirm his way out like the vermin he was. It was decided that Adlersbrunn was to be evacuated. All people were to be gathered into Lord Reinhardts castle, to have few protectors stay behind until they could safely escape. Lord Reinhardt sent word to three people in order to get protection for this event. A Countess from a family of Hunters that had shut herself from the world. An old friend of the Lord who traveled the world, hunting dragons. And a Monk with his Apprentice, answering to a higher calling than human.

Meanwhile the Witch of the Wilds was gathering her allies, having gotten an interesting offer from a dragon in the Black Forest. The dragon offered to lend one of their servants the powers of a dragon and give that servant into the Witches hands for the battle. The Witch was intrigued but suspicious, so she asked what the dragon wanted in return. Nothing. It wanted the greater good and it knew that the Witch wanted that too. Adlersbrunn was filled with people and people were filled with fears of the unknown. The Black Forest was filled with the unknown, and therefore they were hunted. Silver bullet battles, witch burnings and burials of the undead had plagued the creatures of the forest for long enough, and it was time for the people to leave them alone. If not by peace, then by force. Junkenstein was a great tool for the Witches cause, but she still needed more power, therefore she agreed to take the servant of the dragon onto the battlefield as her ally.

Chapter 3: Junkensteins Revenge 2, Electric Boogaloo

The fight happens almost the same as last, but this time the tables have turned. The wanderers struggle to keep up with the Summoners dragonfire blasts, the bombs lobbed by Junkenstein and the gunfire from Reapers guns. While they dont win the fight, they manage to hold them off just enough time for the townspeople to flee far away from Junkensteins grasp. Instead of a petrified Lord, Junkenstein is greeted by an empty castle. At first he seems gleeful, running to hop on the throne. Once he sits down and looks around, he bursts into tears. After all these years of pain, he doesnt even get his revenge. He doesnt get to have his victory even at his brightest moment. The monster tries to comfort its creator, succeeding just to quiet him enough for the Witch to speak. Its time for the favor he owes her.

Before, she wanted him to leave the town as well, but seeing how he was alone already she wanted something else. She wanted him to be a guardian for the black forest. No town would ever become of Adlersbrunn ever again and no one would step a foot into Black forest while the doctor was alive, to ensure that the creatures could live in peace.

He accepted, as he was to do, and remained the only human left.

Chapter 4: The time that we dont speak too much about because honestly nothing happens

Some hundred years passed in quiet. Adlersbrunn collapsed and became ruins of what it once was. Junkenstein guarded the forest and helped the creatures inside it, at one point building a bride for his monster. (Nothing too much is said about what happened to her or where she went) The monster learned and lived, helping Junkenstein with his work. Due to both of them having been revived with the spark of life, they had become immortal. (Unless killed) Witch of the Wilds passed peacefully after a long life. Reaper found his head and his curse was lifted. Life was good.

Chapter 5: Junkenstein of Eichenwalde

One day Junkenstein realizes that where Adlersbrunn once was, is now something new. People have come and started building a town, so he disguises himself and goes to investigate. These people have migrated here from the north, calling this place Eichenwalde, and seem to be very nice. They offer him food and water, the kids want to play with him and the grown ups tell stories of the North to him. He doesnt see an issue with them coming here to stay, since they seem nice and the forest has few creatures left to protect. When a little girl tries to run into the woods, Junkenstein holds her back and tells her not to go. Intrigued, the little girl asks why. The doctor starts telling about monsters and creatures to scare the kids, but they are more interested in hearing his ghost stories, so he obliges to tell them one. He tells about a mad scientist who created a monster and how the monster now lurks in the woods. The kids are excited and the adults think of it as a great legend. It becomes a habit for Junkenstein to come into the town to tell ghost stories to kids. One day, when its Halloween, he notices a difference. The town has changed their style into old fashioned clothes, their mechanical cars to wooden carriage and posters of a fake Mad scientist and a Monster litter the walls. The kids are playing as the characters from his stories and running around with mouths filled with candy. The legend has come into a tradition of a reenactment.

One day, a man arrives into the town, and raises some questions in Junkenstein. The man looks like the Lord. Speaks like the Lord. Walks like the Lord. Has the same mannerisms as the Lord. He even introduces himself as Reinhardt to the disguised Junkenstein. The Lord escaped. It would make sense for him to have started again somewhere else. This could be his descendant, without knowledge of the legend. Who would want such an odd story to be passed down to their descendants? Who would even believe it? Junkenstein keeps an eye on the man and, even when he leaves, the monster follows him for a while. It doesnt seem like he is a threat of any kind. The life goes on in Eichenwalde, with Junkenstein telling stories and living his life with the monster. Every year his story is celebrated in front of him, without any idea that it is truer than any other tale told.

The End.

It took me 3 hours to write this down and I know it starts showing at the end. Also, there are still some mysteries in the story that have absolutely no canon to even start theorizing from. (Aka The Sombra Situation. Theres literally only one spray and a skin where she is linked in any way.)

Also, some very fun theories that I didnt know how to incorporate into the story are:

McCree gets bitten by a werewolf after the first fight

The first fight is the original Junkensteins revenge-gamemode. The second fight is the Endless gamemode.

Canonically the countess killed the Monks master, and I like to think its because of this they lost. They couldnt trust eachother.

When Summoner is close by the air gets heated.(Almost Canon. It is implied in voicelines)

Junkenstein is implied to be so chatty that he keeps talking/laughing during the fight

The Countess is from a family of Vampire hunters, who was bitten by a vampire and was ashamed. The reason she joins the battle is to honor her familys name and hunt for one last time.

It took me 3 separate days to research the canon elements, put them onto a paper and theorize around them and now I finally got this written down in here.

If you are interested in the notes I have, here you can read them: (Mostly in english, but might have some finnish words in there)

Now go my children! Hyperfixate onto this and share my pain!

(Also I would appreciate that if you take this theory and post it somewhere else, that you would credit me and tell your friends I said Hi!)

[littlekatleaf]

Buried in a burning flame is love and its decisive pain (end)

Holy shitballs. Pretty close to exactly a year ago I got this idea - Junkrat and Roadhog have Christmas with some of the Overwatch crew. It was gonna be short and sweet and fluffy. I started writing in... February? 10 months and 21K words later I ended up with something almost entirely different. Oops? Thanks for joining me on the ride!  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

Meds and tea and whiskey and food and mitten and probably a bit of fever still and the lingering feel of Roadie’s hand on his forehead all swirled together into an edgy excitement that made his blood fizz in his veins. Twitchy, itchy. Been looking forward to setting off the fireworks for months - been working them up that long and planning even longer. Had to get it all just right, then combine it with Lucio’s music, get the timing connected to the right shapes, the explosions to the right second… had to be focused, had to be precise and he loved the challenge. The sparks of thrill tingled along his spine and the fire they ignited burned away the lingering crud of sickness leaving him sharp and clear.

He enlisted Hana and Lucio to round up the others, betting they’d be able to convince anyone who was reluctant much better than he would. Even so, he was urging them down to the lake, torches bobbing through the dark, throwing odd shadows between the trees. Maybe talking a little faster than usual but how else was he going to impress upon them how exciting this was? 

“Know it’s cold - hadn’t really thought about that when I was planning. I mean, hadn’t planned to be here at all, just thought we’d be at the Watchpoint. Course, this is better, discounting the cold. Which is hard to do, but Roadie’s getting the bonfire goin’ - he could light a fire in the middle of a monsoon so no worries on that count. An’ Hana brought some whiskey to help so she’ll be right. Ya need to stand here, no closer. Gonna be over the water.  Safe as houses, but can’t be too careful - least according to Morrison, ha! Now turn off the torches. Better the darker it is. Lucky ain’t moonrise yet…” 

“What are we doing out here in the middle of the night when we could be curled up on the couch?” Mei asked no one in particular.

Junkrat ignored her. She’d see, they’d all see and he knew they’d love it just as much as he did if they gave it a chance. Lucio had been kind enough to not only have his sound system set up, but also brought out the box of fireworks so Junkrat didn’t have to lug it himself.

Didn’t take but a minute to set it all up, music on automatic once he started the program. All he had to do was hit the power and light the first fuse.

Music came up slow, soft, bit of piano, then edge of something electronic, rising bass and the first firework streaked up to the center of the sky and as the beat kicked in it exploded in a rain of silver and gold. At the crackling boom the others fell silent, faces tilted to the sky. The sparkles reflected in their eyes and Lucio’s soft ‘oh!’ and Hana’s squeal of delight made even the cold worthwhile. 

Let it start slow. Basic colors, red, blue, green, as well as the gold and silver. Usual shapes, circles, stars, ones that looked like fountains or willows. Then the music shifted, became rhythmic and complex with a minor edge and he sent the first special rockets. The streaks crisscrossed, intersecting like Satya’s hard light shield, like one of her knit shawls and around it burst snowflakes, all in shades of blue and silver. 

Music shifted again, bright and quick - and the second set of his own rockets split the air with a whistling crack then exploded in a crackling red heart, then a gold arrow streamed through. Lena bumped Emily’s hip with her own as their names twined through the heart. Another shift, one of Lucio’s songs, written for Hana and the rockets burst into pink bunnies and green frogs that seemed to bounce up the mountains ringing them and into the stars. 

As the music shifted a final time, setting a beat with a swing, Lena grabbed Emily’s hand and pulled her into a twirl, hands clenched firm but light, feet moving quick, spinning each other in and out and then they were dancing and so were Hana and Lucio and even Mei tugged Satya into the group. 

And then - perfect timing, as the music sang “Seeing’ stars, I’m seeing stars” the final bursts of fireworks - his favorite of the bunch - exploded overhead and Junkrat couldn’t stop his grin at the stars he’d created. Spread above him and Roadie was their night sky. The Saucepan and the Crux. Looking right, looking perfect, not upside down like here.

For a long moment Roadhog said nothing, just stood with his face tipped up, sparks reflecting in his mask as the fireworks cracked and popped and the music thumped and the others laughed and danced.

“Thought ya might like a bit of Straya,” Junkrat said finally, unable to wait for Roadhog to say something. Anything. Maybe he hadn’t recognized it after all. Or maybe it wasn't anything like he’d hoped. Maybe it only looked like home because he was remembering it so clearly. Imagining it. Making it all up again. He shoved his hand in his pocket as a gust of wind swept over them and a sneeze slammed into him, followed quickly by two more. “Huh-r’isssh! Isshh! Ishhew!” 

Didn’t even hear Roadhog move, but suddenly he was right there, shoving his hat down over Junkrat’s head and then wrapping his scarf around Junkrat’s neck. “Stay warm, idiot.”

“Trying,” he said, shivering still. He let Roadie lead him over to the fire which had grown to a roaring height, pouring out a welcome heat. Pine logs crackled and spat sparks swirling into the sky to swirl with the real stars and their backwards constellations.

Lucio cranked his own mix and the bass echoed off the mountains and Lena and Emily still danced with him and Hana. Mei and Satya huddled together, passing a mug of something between them and for a moment, just for a minute, everything felt fine. Felt good.

Junkrat glanced at Roadhog, and though the mask obscured his expression, there was a looseness in his shoulders, something in the tilt of his head that seemed to speak of relaxation and calm. Made the cold and exhaustion worth it. “Happy Christmas, Roadie.” 

“Happy Christmas, Rat.” The warmth in his tone did more to drive away the chill than the fire and Junkrat leaned against his side, letting himself enjoy the closeness. 

After a bit, the others joined them around the fire and Lena passed a joint around, “For everyone except you, Junkrat. Sorry.” 

He shrugged, pulled a flask out of his pocket. “Not gonna share my plague. Got this anyway.” The whiskey left a warm curl in the center of his belly, his muscles loose and easy. Satya told a story about a Snow Queen whose frozen heart melted with the love of a peasant girl, and though Junkrat wanted to roll his eyes, he understood the feeling. The desire to have one’s own story told in myth - to be connected to something bigger. Lena told a story about Father Christmas. Mei about a Chinese hunter, Jia Deng, who hunted with a pet wolf and left gifts of his hunt with the poor during the cruel months of winter. Then Roadie exhaled a long puff of smoke and said,

“Bet you never heard of the Holiday Boar.”

Junkrat giggled into his scarf. “Ain’t gonna tell that one to this lot, are ya?”

Lena cocked her head quizzically. “No, can’t say I have.”

“Well. Long before the Omnium exploded, before the Omnics were even an idea someone had, the Outback was still a hardscrabble place. Dusty and hot and many were desperately poor, trying to eke a living out of land that wasn’t easily giving. One day a wild boar appeared in a village, ribs showing through its skin, hair falling out in patches, it was the most pathetic excuse for a creature the villagers had seen. Most tried to chase it away with kicks and shouts and stones thrown. 

“At the edge of the village there was a farmer. He lived alone on the land. When the boar came to his homestead, the farmer’s first reaction was the same as the others - he wanted to chase it away. Nothing good could come of bringing another mouth to feed into his life. But as he raised a hand to throw a stone, he caught a glimpse of the creature’s eyes and his long dead daughter’s voice spoke in his heart. ‘Papa, please.’ His hand fell and he sighed and the boar stayed.

“In the beginning he found it annoying, an intrusion on his solitude. Still, he fed the creature, sharing the little he had, and in return it kept him company, following him like a dog and seeming to listen when he spoke. Come winter the boar was healthy and grown to a surprising size. Villagers who saw it walking with the farmer nodded knowingly - at the first cold snap he’d likely kill it, and the meat could feed them all.

“But the cold came and still the boar walked with the farmer. The villagers eyed them more than a little oddly. Finally, on the longest night of the year, the farmer was sitting by a fire with the boar at his side as usual. The farmer was lamenting that the land had been even more reticent than usual, and he was likely to lose his home to the mortgagers. 

“The boar’s stomach gave a great rumble, then it leaned forward and puked up a pile of gold coins onto the ground. The farmer never went hungry again and the village prospered.”

Junkrat couldn’t help himself, he burst out laughing. 

Hana laughed too, shook her head. “There’s no way that’s a thing.”

“It’s Australia,” Roadhog argued, deadpan voice. “It absolutely is.”

Lucio nodded, took a drag from the joint. “I could see it.”

They told stories and Lucio led them in carols and the warmth of the fire and the whiskey and Roadhog at his side and Lena’s jokes “What do you call a dinosaur fart? A blast from the past! Why does a duck have tail feathers? To cover his butt quack!” and Emily’s laughter lulled Junkrat into a doze.

“He snores louder than a boar,” Satya said, irritably. Lena giggled.

“You gave him your scarf,” Hana said to Roadhog and her tone was equal parts teasing and curious.

Junkrat felt Roadie’s shoulders move in a shrug. “Never takes care of himself, even when he’s sick.” But though he was more than half asleep, he could hear the tight coldness of the comment. The relaxed ease had gone. Junkrat wanted to sit up and interrupt, but he was just so tired.

“Gave him your cold too, huh.” Still that sing-song teasing tone, but it cut at Junkrat.

“Maybe.”

“Come on, Roadhog. What’s up with you two, anyway? He won’t give us a straight answer.”

Felt like everyone’s eyes were on them, staring. Junkrat tensed. Sit up, he told himself. Stop this. But he didn’t. He wanted to know what Roadhog would say, even more than he didn’t want to know.

Roadhog’s shoulder moved in another shrug. “Someone’s gotta keep him from offing himself on accident.”

Mei laughed; least no one else did.

Ice through his body, through his stomach, his mind, his lungs. He coughed against it, but it didn’t move. The fire had burned down to little more than embers and even scarf and hat, mitten and whiskey weren’t enough to keep him warm. He forced himself up then, away from Roadhog. Faked a yawn like he just woke up.

“Knackered. Gonna call it a night. Happy Christmas all.” Forced the words past lips that felt frozen and barely heard the others saying goodnight and thanks for the fireworks. 

The moon glowed on the snow, lighting the way back to the cabin enough to keep him from stumbling on tree roots and rocks. His foot crunched softly on pine needles and he heard Roadhog’s louder footfalls behind him. He walked faster. Just wanted to be inside, to be alone, to be warm, to be silent. Even the light of the Christmas tree seemed to mock him with its fake promise of coziness. He’d take a bath, let the water warm his bones, soothe the chills, then sleep. 

“When I said ya ain’t gotta babysit me no more, I meant it,” Junkrat said stiffly as Roadhog followed him into the bathroom. “Promise I ain’t gonna drown in the bath. Even I’m not stupid enough to do that.”

“How’re you going to get in and out?” Roadhog asked bluntly.

Junkrat turned to look and of course there were no bars to let him navigate it himself. Once he took off his prosthetics he’d be screwed. Fuck. He pushed past Roadhog and out of the bathroom. Wasn’t worth it.  

But the bedroom was just as bad. Wanted to collapse onto the bed and sleep for a century or ten, but Roadhog was standing there in the middle of the room taking up all of the space and all of the air and Junkrat knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep with his… looming. Instead he shoved the pillows to the head of the cot and sat against the wall, wrapping a blanket around himself. Just barely resisted pulling it over his head, too. Knew Roadie would stare and it was making him jittery. Not in a good way. His head ached again, skin tight with the too hot too cold feeling of returning fever. Should have asked Lucio for more meds. He rubbed a hand over his face, wishing for relief. Wishing for Roadie’s hand on his forehead again, cool and firm and steadying.

“Gonna tell me what’s eating you?” Roadhog asked, finally. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked down at Junkrat from his full height. Not exactly the most inviting posture. 

“What are we?” The question spilled from him like he was vomiting. “An’ don’t give me some stupid shit like you don’t know what I mean. Hana asks and Lucio asks and you avoid the question.”

“Why do we need to put words to it? Why do they need to know anything?” 

Junkrat shrugged. It wasn’t for them that he needed words. It was him. He needed a foundation, an understanding. Because things were slippery and they could slide away from him before he had a chance to catch hold. “It’s me askin’. Now that ya ain’t my bodyguard. What are we?”

A long pause, a silence full of all the things Roadhog didn’t say. 

“Morrison said I could leave,” Junkrat blurted, unable to stand it.

Roadhog waited.

“Said if this do-gooder shit was too bloody difficult he’d have Lena turn me in. Serve my time and then whatever came next was my choice.”

No response.

“Told him I’d have to talk to you about it, but he said just meant me. I been thinkin...’ we should do it. Could probably convince him to let you go too. Then when we were far enough away could hijack the Orca, dump Lena and head back to Straya. Head home. Get the treasure, sell it to the Queen and find a place to just… live.” He blinked and the after-image of fireworks burst across his vision, constellations in all their permutations. Home. Was it? Didn’t really know anymore… But maybe there it wouldn’t be so hard, maybe there it would be like it had been.

Still no response, no movement at all. Like Roadhog’d turned to stone. Mountain. Felt his gaze go cold, measuring, calculating. Had seen Roadhog turn that gaze on others, size them up, find them lacking… but not on himself. He froze. Utterly still. Waited for the judgment to fall. Then Roadhog laughed. Not like something was funny, or maybe like he was funny and the sound was brittle and sharp in his ears.

“What’s so bloody funny, mate?” and his own voice held an edge.

“The idea that I would want to leave this,” he gestured around the room, taking in everything, “give up the good thing I got going here to… what? Live out some tiny shit life in that hellhole with you? Why the fuck do you think I’d want to go back to that? And with you?” He positively roared with laughter. “You are thick as a rock. Batshit crazy. A complete mess. Sure, when there wasn’t anyone else around who wasn’t trying to kill me, you were good for a laugh. A way to get my rocks off. But in the real world? Fuck no.”

“Fuck you too.” The words scraped his throat and he wished he had covered his head because he had that ominous prickling behind his eyes like he was going to fucking cry, or sneeze, and either way he was fucking well not going to give Roadhog the satisfaction.

“You want to know what we are, Junkrat? We ain’t shit. Nothing. Do what you want, stay or go. I couldn’t possibly give less of a shit.”

“Well that’s fuckin’ clear as crystal. Why don’t you fuck off then an’ let me sleep.” He grit his teeth, bit the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tasted iron. Not going to crumble. Watched as Roadhog turned and crossed the room. Watched the door click shut behind him. Watched the blank wall and refused to let himself crack. Silence then, that he’d wanted. But no warmth. Even wrapped in blankets felt like he was sitting in a snowstorm. Everything muffled and frozen. Freezing.

Then that chuckle in his head. You got an answer. Might not have been the one you wanted, but really Jamison, what did you expect? Did you honestly think he would go back to an irradiated waste land and a criminal life to be with you?

He thumped his head back against the wall, squeezed his eyes shut. Clenched his fist so hard his nails bit into his palm. Shut it. Ain’t real.

No? So make me be silent, then. More laughter. Oh Jamison. How do you think someone would want to be with you when your own mother couldn’t stand to be with you? 

You don’t know nothing ‘bout my mum, he told her. Nothing. But a couple tears leaked free, and the tingling prickles made him sneeze and he buried his head in the blankets and let himself go until he fell asleep, her laughter and Roadhog’s laughter still ringing in his head.

Sleep was restless, part of him kept jerking awake thinking he heard the door open. He hadn’t. When he finally woke completely he felt like he’d been hit by the ute, then had it back over him again. He stumbled out to the living room where he found Hana and Lucio playing a game with Emily, and Mei and Satya watching. 

“Morning, Junkrat,” Lucio said.

“More like afternoon,” Hana corrected.

“Potato potahto,” Lucio shrugged. “Wanna join? You can play winner.”

“Nah,” he cleared his throat, tried to sound nonchalant. “Where’s Roadie?”

“Apparently Morrison sent him on some mission. Something going on in Australia. Lena took him early this morning,” Satya said. “Guess you didn’t go ‘cause you’re sick?” Hana asked.

“Yeah. Something like that.” His head went light. Hadn’t thought Roadhog would actually leave. Take the treasure for himself and go… but there it was. He made his way into the kitchen on a floor that seemed to rock like a boat. Opened the sat comm with numb fingers. 

“Morrison.” “It’s Fawkes. I’ll take your offer. I want to turn myself in.”

[putyrmindtoit]

Gabriel Reyes was one of the six founders of Overwatch, later becoming its co-Marshal. He was also notable as the Commander of Blackwatch, one half of the first Jaeger pilots during the Omnic Crisis, and leading many strike teams on ground missions during the Crisis to great effect. After the Crisis, he mostly stepped back from the spotlight after Jack Morrison, his husband, was promoted to Strike-Commander.

Reyes was killed in action on August 26th, 2061, in a freak accident caused by a desync during a routine Jaeger operation in the Mediterranean Sea. He was buried in Arlington Cemetery next to his husband, although the recent exposure of Blackwatch to the press and the dismantling of Overwatch as a whole means very few respects were and are paid to a hero of the Crisis.

Completely unrelated, of course, is the rise of the terrorist known as Reaper; a black-robed harbinger of death that has recently been plaguing old Overwatch and Blackwatch bases. Survivors describe Reaper as a man that can turn to mist with a ghostly skull mask, seemingly hellbent on finding and destroying the information still lingering within those bases. Very little else is known about this man, other than he seems impossible to track or kill, and his knowledge of Overwatch implies he used to work for the organization.