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insomniacscribblesao3 · 1 year

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excerpt from my lovechild fic based on an rp with a dear friend.

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... "Well, it's kind of a stupid reason," He starts, feeling her eyes on him like she was ready to dissect him like a seventh grade science project. He returns the energy, staring back as he thinks. There's something vaguely familiar about her features, the way her hair falls in her face, the hint of freckles that the soft glow from the window barely illuminates, her light eyes. Genji feels like he's seen her somewhere before, like he's looking at a puzzle with only a few pieces missing but can't make out the whole picture without them.

"I got—"

Angela had to maintain her cool. Her brain was telling her he'd done something bad, but he didn't appear like a criminal. His clothing appeared to be clean, even, and of great quality. But she couldn't just pass judgment solely on appearances. She hears her name shouted out again, and her eyes widen again, before he has even had a chance to respond, “It’s my mom – Grab on tight otherwise a seven feet fall is waiting for you.”

The approaching voice within the house rendered them both alarmed and looking at the door of her bedroom through the windows. Genji immediately sat up, eyes darting around to try and think of a hiding place. Under the window? No, her mother could walk onto the balcony and see him. He wouldn't be able to shuffle into a corner of her room in time, and hiding in her closet would be a straight up invasion of privacy. Then what was left?

And with that, she pulls him standing, and with all the adrenaline that drove her beyond her normal strength, she physically shoved him on the other side of the railing, making sure he held the bars tight enough by keeping her own hand over his - she believed it would be useful as coverage. She didn't expect the stress scenario to make her hands sweat as much as they did.

Luckily, Angela thinks faster than him. Genji goes on to question her plan with furrowed brows as she approaches, but barely has the time to let out a startled yelp when she ushers him up and pushes him off the ledge with an almost superhuman grip. He hangs off the railing like a sack of potatoes, teeth gritting at the sting that sets into his already cut fingers. Ow. 𝘖𝘸. As if reading his thoughts, the girl presses down her warm palms on his, like an anchor, steadying him almost desperately as he feels the tendons in his left arm screaming out for help.

In a matter of seconds, her mother appears, arms crossed and face somewhat frightened. She pushes the glass door wide open, and stands just at the doorstep, “Is everything alright?”

Her mother's voice joins hers on the balcony. Genji tenses, looking down below him over his shoulder and trying to suppress a groan. His legs dangle in mid air as he tries to look for anything to support his weight on, but only finds the ground far below him and promising a 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 painful fall should he slip.

And Angela just nods almost so fast it’s suspicious, trying to stand as wide as possible to hide and cover the hanging body from her railing, “It’s just – I saw…” Then she shakes her head, “I saw only silhouettes. Nothing in particular. There was maybe three.. or four of them?”

Her mother nods along, “I didn’t imagine this district could get so… unhinged. I made it clear to the construction company that I wanted utmost perfect security and safety, hence the gates and walls. I’m so sorry if this frightened you, my dear. I can see you’re a bit unsettled.”

To that, she nods nervously and answers immediately, “It’s – It’s alright, they’re gone anyways. I’ll just go back to rehearsing and –” But before she could continue, her mother interrupts,

“Have you showered already? You’re still wearing your daytime clothes, and it’s almost bedtime. You know you have to get up early in the morning, and your time sleeping is limited. Shower and go to bed. Oh and pack your things beforehand, otherwise we might be late again. You don’t want that.”

He exhales as quietly as he can, breath coming out stuttering with pain, and tries to hone in on their conversation. The mother's tone is cold at best, incredibly stuck up at worst, and Genji feels a pang of sympathy at the way this Angela is spoken to. He knew the pain of living by a schedule well, and the way she complied with an obvious tiredness behind the anxiety in her voice was painfully familiar to how Hanzo sounded in the evening.

Right. As usual, she was bound by rigorous timetables that even dictated when she had to sleep. She merely nods along, taking big breaths – and as her mother walks closer, her breath hitches and she clutches his hand even tighter. "I'll see you in the morning," she whispers, brushing her cheeks one last time before returning inside and closing the glass door.

The conversation is quick and dry. For a moment, Genji hears the sound of footsteps coming closer and tenses, considering the idea of dropping down it if came to it, but it barely lasts and soon Angela lets go of his hand and disappears from the balcony. He knows he should wait for her to return, but his arm feels like it's on fire from supporting his whole weight, and Genji feels like one more second of hanging like this would result in him tearing something. He grunts and swings himself up, throwing a forearm over the railing and dragging his torso up, eyes screwed shut as the pressure on his tendons lessens.

Angela waits good ten seconds after her mother has left before grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him back – as absurd as that seemed, she didn’t quite want him to fall.

He winces, sitting back down on shaky legs and holding his strained arm once he is finally on solid ground. The cuts on his palm had worsened from the pressure of the railing's edge, and he had resorted to periodically wiping the blood off his already ruined jacket. When he looks back up, she's looking like an angry mom about to scold a child, and Genji raises an eyebrow at the repeated question.

So now it's her turn to cross her arms in front of her chest and ask, “So, what did you do that you ended up here?” As if her query wasn't enough of a taunt the first time, she asks it again, just because she was calm enough not to assume he was planning to kill or kidnap her. If he desired it, he would have done something by now, but instead he merely stood there. Maintaining a respectable distance. Giving her glances, and nothing else.

"First of all," He starts, rubbing the muscle between his thumb and his palm that felt awfully sore. "Your mom sounds like she has a stick up her ass."

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if you'd like to read the full thing, here's the link to the fic :-)

#overwatch gency #gency #young genji #young angela #highschool sweethearts #based on an rp #otp #humor #fluff #hurt/comfort #genji shimada is a little shit #wholesome #first love #overwatch #my fic link #fiction #modern au

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mercy-mercie-mercymorn · 1 year

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repeating in the mirror im gonna work on literally any of my fic wips and then proceeding to make a new untitled document

#mercymercie.irl #ICE BEARS FIC CH. 2 IS COMING #gency maybe if i vibe right #currently trying to gather the spoons for a jeanlisa thing

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aishicc · 2 years

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Overwatch (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Genji Shimada/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Genji Shimada & Hanzo Shimada & Hana "D.Va" Song Characters: Genji Shimada, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Hanzo Shimada, Hana "D.Va" Song Additional Tags: Platonic CyborgRabbit, Gency, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Team Dynamics, Video Games Are Life, shimada bros Summary:

Reuniting with Hanzo in Hanamura Genji prepares to try and get D.Va, and by extension MEKA, on Team OverWatch before he has to try and get his teammates to accept Hanzo as one of them.

#overwatch #my fics #gency

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twistedhaze-fic · 16 hours

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Man Made Monster - Chapter 1 - TwistedHaze - Overwatch (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Well this is NOT what I expected to post first but its one of my most beloved fic projects so I hope everyone enjoys it! Genji Shimada character study fic :D

#overwatch #overwatch fic #genji shimada #genji shimada fic #theres hints of gency spuriken and genyatta throughout this but this fic is Not focused romantic relationships #but if you like reading about those relationship dynamics even under a less romantic lens theyre in there!#i think all three of these characters are VERY significant to Genji's character growth so I have been taking much care writing them #i should tag them individually probably #gency #spuriken #genyatta #my writing

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naffeclipse · 2 months

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Hello! I love reading your fics so much <3 I've been a big fan since your Gency/Overwatch fics and it's been nice seeing you continue with your writings

Oh my gosh, hi, hello! That's nuts you found my writing blog since it's been a good couple of years since I wrote in that fandom, ah! That's really sweet though, thank you! <3

#i feel like a bug under a rock #like oh whoa you still see me?! hi!#naff nuh huh

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und-3-ad · 7 months

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Religious hyper-fixation projected onto my favourite women.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

i am a total SLUT for angelic coded and straight up angel characters but it also makes me seethe. my two favourite characters in all of fiction (Angela Zeigler from the hit game overwatch and Elizabeth Liones from the semi-hit anime Seven Deadly Sins) are so angel coded and one of them literally is an angel. the potential with that is DIABOLICAL. i need, like i NEED, biblically accurate Elizabeth art and also like a rewrite where her powers are religiously accurate i'm on my knees like i'm in church. also. can't forget angela. i need gency fics or art right, of genji just WORSHIPPING HER. like someone educates this man on western christian culture, how just like WORSHIPPED angels are and the gears start turning in his little cyborg boy brain. i would absolutely write this but im just a little girl, in my little room, with my little laptop and brittany broski okay?? someone else has to do it (i'm totally capable of it but i'm just not).

#overwatch #seven deadly sins #religous themes #religious imagery #worshipposting #angel #angelic themes #elizabeth liones #angela zeigler #mercy overwatch #meliodas #genji shimada #genji overwatch #melizabeth #gency #overwatch gency

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cybernightart · 8 months

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A couple Random Genji and some kiriko + other headcanons/short story things? Not a full fic or anything but headcannons that kinda flow into a story of some kind. I don't even have a clue how many I've done at this point XD

Second half of this gets a little sadder, and mentions stuff from his Playboy days including drinking and drugs and stuff not much but it's there so still head up.

BUT then I wrote a short cute thing of how I imagine kiriko reunited with genji so it's not all angst and depresso.

Also random Gency here and there! (There's alot not going to lie lol)

And lastly as per always, this is very very rambly as I'm just getting my thoughts written out and there's not much actual order and there might be some jumping back and forth but I tried to keep it as steady flow as my brain would allow. This one is rather long though.

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This one actually starts with Dva! (This is partially inspired of a few other head cannons I've seen from people) After she joined OverWatch in between missions whenever she's doing more normal streams that aren't streaming the fights, where she's in her room gaming or doing other streams around the base, she would bring some of the other members onto the streams either they would pop in to say hi or would stay for whole streams. At first it would primarily be the new blood crew, as they had been around either for longer and her Chat had gotten to know them too.

But then after a while chat started to notice these same two people popping in for quite a lot of streams not really ever acknowledging chat but just talking to Dva. They would be giving her food and bringing her drinks and stuff ,making sure that she's staying hydrated ,making sure she's okay, and just all around taking care of her. One of the two was immediately recognized to be mercy which the chat started lovingly referring to as "mom" because in any stream she appeared in even for a couple seconds she was always just taking care of everyone and looking after everyone and reminding her not to stream too long. The second person wasn't immediately recognized, at least by name anyways. Genji wasn't known to the public what his name was, they just knew he was the ninja guy from OverWatch, that they had seen on the news a couple times in some fights like when they took down doomfist or in Paris. And they had especially never heard him talk before this, so all anyone publicly knew about him was there was this omnic looking guy who was a ninja with green lights on him. And after the first few times he popped in to check on Diva bringing her stuff, and way more specific stuff that he knows would be better for her to have during stream or gaming sessions because he himself being quite experienced in the gaming department he knows what kind of snacks or beverages are better to have while still being healthy at least a little. And after these many appearances by this unnamed member they had no idea who he was, Diva eventually explained to her chat that that was Genji and he was a cyborg ninja who looks intimidating (and can be very intimidating) but who's actually a really big sweetheart is very caring and stuff. So considering how Chat had started referring to mercy as mom, they started referring to Genji as dad, which then eventually snowballed into people shipping them on Diva's stream even going as far as drawing fanart of them. Which at this point no one on the base actually knew Genji mercy had a thing going on outside of tracer ,sojourn and Cassidy and kind of Winston but he was mostly oblivious. They mostly knew from before overwatch shut down, from the random dates they went on or the late night conversations and the all-around flirting between the two of them, but none of them knew that they were even more of a thing than before and were even closer.

Moving on to the next head cannon which ties into that one. We know Genji and Hanzo reunited on the 10-year anniversary of Genji's death when he was around 35, and he's 37 now, and the last letter we know of really between the two is when he told her about reuniting with his brother. And we also know from the recent logs from PVE that Genji hasn't actually been at the monastery in a while and hasn't seen zenyatta in a long time and has just been writing him letters. So I personally like to believe in that in that two-year span Genji was wandering around again with ,a new purpose in life this time ,specifically on the mission to track down Angela. Where he eventually found her after about a year or so, because he had no idea where she was, since he left the monastery he didn't have any of the letters that she could have sent in the meantime, specifically one where she mentioned that she was leaving Cairo and going somewhere else. So for about a year he was on kind of a wild goose chase just kind of running around trying to find her eventually he did find her. At this point she was in between her trips to places to help people and was just in her home in Switzerland, which I like to imagine she lives in an apartment.

Which is where Genji tracks her down to, end of instead knocking on the door like a normal person he knocked on her window, because he couldn't be bothered taking the stairs inside and just wall climbed up to her balcony because it was "easier". He brought with him a few gifts including Swiss chocolate which he was able to get much easier now being in Switzerland, and a couple other assorted gifts.

So as Angela was sitting at her desk filling out paperwork at midnight, she heard a knocking on her window which at first she brushed off as the wind but then realized how distinct of a knocking it was. So cautiously she grabbed her blaster from the table she'd been working on all her Valkyrie suit stuff on, quietly tiptoed over to the window peaked through her blinds and didn't see anything except for a faint green Glow. Which definitely confused her at first so against your better judgment she opened the window, poked your head out and was looking side to side couldn't see anything or anyone, balcony completely empty. Until a little ribbon thing fell in front of her face was she immediately recognized and looked up to see Genji dangling from the upstairs balcony Spider-Man style because of course he is. And before she can say anything Genji says a sweet little "hello doctor", and plopped down in front of her perching himself on the balcony wall. Then after 2 seconds of fully registering what's going on she happily yells out Genji's name as she wraps her arms around him. Where he quickly has to grab onto the window / door so they both don't fall off the balcony with the force she have charged at him with. She apologizes, genji says it's fine, they both giggle, Genji then reaches up and completely takes off his mask/helmet, reaches out brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear and leans in and says "I missed you <3" in a loveing hushed voice. Which mixed with the cheeky smirk on his scarred face makes Angela's face go completely red. Flustered she looks him in the eyes and smiles before saying "I missed you too<3" as she leans in and kisses genji on the cheek making him go so red in the face that even his ears are blushing and steam releases through his shoulder vents. And for Genji can even get any words out Angela pulls him inside like grabbing on to the front of his new hoodie, what she then cheekily but honestly compliments saying how it suits him, and he does the same with her new hair cut.

You then spend roughly the next year living together slowly getting closer and closer and more and more comfortable with each other than they already were (like they were basically dating at this point but just hadn't admitted it) snuggling, doing daily tasks together, when Angela came home from her long shifts at the hospital genji had done all the household chores and had cooked dinner for them both. And where all-around enjoying life to the best of their abilities, considering all the stuff going on in the news, and eventually the recall. Which they desired to answer together, and made their way to Paris arriving just in time to save Winston, tracer and mei along side Reinhardt, Brigitte, and echo.

Back to the Dva streaming thing, once genji and mercy found out dvas chat called them mom and dad they both laughed at it, but also kinda agreed. Genji first said he didn't see it for himself, which almost everyone else chimed in with all the times he has looked after someone, helped them out, made sure they are staying hydrated, looking out for their health (mental and physical) and has overall became someone any of them can talk to for reassurance or guidance. That combined with all the terrible dad jokes. They both eventually accept their roles as the mom and dad friends of the group.

Genji 100% makw some of the worst but the best dad jokes

Some examples of this, like in PVE when Genji checks in on mei to see if she's doing okay, comforts tracer about mondattas death, even him talking about Cassidy about how he hasn't been sleeping and helping him deal with the emotions and memories causing that. I'm definitely also see him befriending Zarya pretty quickly, after not getting off on the right foot with her not trusting him seeing him as part omnic and not knowing if she can trust him because of it, once they step foot into the gym together they instantly become workout buddies, especially considering both of them are frantically trying to help the others not injure themselves while doing what they think are basic workouts. Primarily with mei, Lucio, dva, even Baptiste and then a couple of the others. Lucio on multiple occasions would go into the gym not wearing proper footwear and immediately get sent back out by either Zarya or Genji. And with the people they don't have to help out as much in that way, they both spar or train with the others and help push them when they need it and help them to go easy when they need it (like brig, tracer or rein)

Genji also gives the best massages in OverWatch, primarily to mercy but he does them for everyone else as well. And when someone injures themselves in a non bloody we should probably take you to the medics kind of way he can help bandage up rolled ankles or other pulled muscles and other more athletics based injuries from both personal experience and stuff he's picked up from being around mercy for so long.

And for the third time back to Dva stream thing, there was one time she was doing a cooking stream with Lucio, and Genji happen to walk into the room to see them trying and shopping things and immediately having to dash over there and take the knives out their hands because Jesus Christ they were going to hurt themselves the way they were trying to do it. And after he confiscated the knives he showed them how to properly use them so they wouldn't hurt themselves horribly, and then physically got them to try cutting again this time with his supervision so they could hands on learn how to do it while also having genji there as a safety net to make sure they don't cut their fingers off.

And eventually after a while of convincing Genji eventually came on to one of Diva's dreams for the whole thing and ended up playing games with her which is where she found out Genji used to play video games a lot (and it turns out Genji is better than her, he kicked her butt a few times and then went easier on her but acted like he was still trying so she could feel like she had beaten him and to not humiliate her in front of her stream) and he was better than her at fighting/shooters games but Dva was better in racing/flying/absurd nonsense games(think like gang beasts and fall guys) except for things like Mario kart (or whatever the OverWatch equivalent would be) where they were pretty evenly matched.

And there was one time they tried to play VR only to very quickly realize that Genji could not because he couldn't get the headset over his mask, and even when they finally did get it to stay in place(kinda) he couldn't hear anything through it and it looked ridiculous over his mask, and everything was tinted very green. So dva changed the set up so the camera wasn't facing him so he could take his mask off and properly play, because she still wanted to play with him but didn't want to make him uncomfortable because she knew he wasn't very big on showing his face especially to the hundreds of thousands of people watching.

Dva also introduced him to games like beat saber which he loved, and was very good at, mainly because of all the sword training (even though it wasn't accurate it was definitely helpful)

Now switching gears to some different head cannons, this is where the sad stuff happens!!!! ANGST TIME!!!!

Genji when looking back at his old self (playboy days) is very overly harsh on himself and views himself as a way worse person than he actually was at the time. Looking back at those days with the opposite of rose tinted glasses. Overall just viewing himself as a very mean selfish person when, in actuality he was still a very kind-hearted sweet person like he is now. Back then though he wasn't allowed to show it or would be punished when he did for "being weak". And he also looks back at his Playboy partying days not really acknowledging why he was doing all that. Forgetting the mental state he was in at that point, with his mental state during black watch and the initial years of his time in OverWatch overshadowing the negative emotions he felt back then.

he had no interest with being a part of the family business but also just didn't agree with it, he was drifting from his brother who he used to be almost inseparable from and now it was almost like talking to a stranger with how cold and distant Hanzo seem to have become. Or whenever he went out trying to make friends or tried dating people, either they didn't want to interact with him because they were scared of the fact he was a shimada and believed him to be dangerous, or when they did want to interact with him they only wanted to interact with him so they could use him for his money and status ,or only going after him for his looks and not actually him as a person. then an assortment of other small things which built up only topped off by the ever-increasing stress and pressure put on from his family and Clan elders, and eventually the assassination of his father sending him over the edge into full party Playboy this is the only way he knows how to cope mode.

With him constantly getting drunk, high, or even a combination of both, and just overall being a Playboy by "sleeping" around to try and escape from his reality, to feel something, something that wasn't all the bad things he was feeling now.

The only one who actually knew anywhere close to what Genji was going through or how he was feeling at this time was kiriko. (I don't care what her canonical age says it makes no sense so I'm still sticking with she's a couple years younger than them. So like when genji's 37, she's 32-33 or something) they would hang out with all the time, and she very quickly picked up on his rapidly decreasing mental and emotional state, not knowing how to help other then just being there for him.

When he wasn't drunk or out partying, he was going out around hanamura/kanezeka, primarily to the arcade with kirko. Where she witnessed all the good things Genji would do and how nice he was with people. like when he saw kids struggling at an arcade game, trying their hardest and failing, he would go over and help the kids in whatever way they needed so that they would win. And if the kids had given up and we're starting to walk away, he would go over play the game and win big prize, the go over redeem the prize and then give the prize to the kids. Or when someone was being harassed, attacked or in general being put in danger, he would stand up for them and defend them, using his skills as a ninja too take down multiple of these harassers or attackers with ease, as kiriko would tend to the person in need to see if they had any wounds or in general to see if they're okay. And if Genji did need help in fighting, he would fight side by side with kiriko defending the city together, helping wherever they could.

She just remembers all the joy he would bring to people around the city. Primarily just by doing little things and being a nice person, actions that he would dismiss as not being meaningful or actually good deeds, not being able to see past the part of him which made him tied to one of the most feared and most dangerous yakuzas in the whole of Japan ,and in terms of criminal empires at the time, in a lot of the world. Genji instinctively would have put on a mask of the cocky full of himself spoiled rich kid with a carefree attitude, only ever letting it really drop around kiriko or in these random moments of kind-hearted gestures with locals or complete stragers. Where you could actually see the real him, the real him that he had to hide from the clan because he was seen as weak and undesirable, and overall just not being cut out for the family legacy. Which overtime only weight heavier and heavier on his heart and soul, not being able to see that the locals around him loved and appreciated him. Not seeing the sentiments and opinions that they hold even to this day of Genji, not seeing him as a shimada, but as Genji. The green haired goofball who would get himself into trouble but had a kind heart and was just an all-around good kid, that they never found out what happened to and to their knowledge just disappeared one day, the same day Hanzo left and was almost never seen again, with only the occasional sightings once a year on the same day. And not too long after the brothers disappearances, the rest of the clan will go on too, either gone into hiding, arrested or killed.

The Kind-hearted sweeter quiet but Goofy side of Genji is the side that kiriko remembers, even years later. She doesn't mourn for the loss of the cocky rich Playboy persona who would get into fights to prove he was better and didn't care about anyone other them himself.

She missed her best friend. The sweet guy she grew up with, who happened to be into a family who didn't want him for him. And as much as kirko still looks back on the clan with rose tinted glasses, much like how pharrah looks back on OverWatch, she still remembers what the clan did to Genji. Not just ordering him to be killed, not just his own brother who they both trusted who Genji loved wholeheartedly even though they had grown distant and/or it was never really shown anymore, but for how they mentally and emotionally broke him down over the years. Leading him down a path which he never wanted to take a step down in the first place. A path which he thought was his only way of escape, even if it was temporary.

She remembers all the nights of Genji coming back from being at the club, only for him to come home to angry screaming about how disappointed they are in him, the shame he's bringing to their family, and the countless other heated arguments between him and Hanzo, where Genji hardly able to speak for himself because how drunk/high he was, get frustrated and just storm away to his room not even listening to Hanzo yelling after him. And all the times she would go into his room to find him sitting on the floor in the corner quietly crying, far too drunk to even try hiding his emotions at this point. where she would sit with him and just talk to him for hours as he cried until he passed out. And all the nights she wished she could do more to help him, all the times she regrets not protecting him, and all the times she replays the memories in her head, going through all the different outcomes of things she could have done differently that would result in him still being with her today, and the different lives they could have been living. All things that are not her fault, things that she had no control over, but still keep her up at night. All the times Genji took the blame for something she did to protect her from being punished, all the times he stood up for her and was there for her, even being the one to advocate for her to join him and Hanzo in training despite all the protests from the elders and the uncertainty from Hanzo, his father and her mother, he stood up and believed in her that she was ready, eventually winning them over and allowing her to join.

All these memories of the friend she lost and wished every day that he could come back, that one day he would come knocking at her front door with donuts ,cookies or sweets in hand like he used to do when he would sneak them both sweets when they both really shouldn't have been having sugar, or weren't allowed any because they were in trouble.

She even keeps a bunch of mementos around her apartment that remind her of him. including her first kunai, his headband that he used to wear all the time in training that Hanzo would tell him look stupid but he didn't care, just seeing how annoyed it made Hanzo made it worth it. A bunch of his drawings she framed and hung up that he would do in secret ,that he didn't think were that good but kiriko absolutely loved and would try to tell him they were amazing. A bunch of assorted toys and plushies she keeps on her shelves and desk that they won at the arcade together. Or even how she continues to dye her hair the same shade of green years later because it was the color that she would dye it when they would dye their hair together.

And even though she couldn't have done anything differently....she feels like she failed him. which is one of the reasons she tries so hard everyday to fight for her friends and for the people of kanezeka, because hopefully someday, she can feel like she made it up to him. Now constantly paranoid of losing someone she cares about, terrified she loses someone like she lost Genji. And still wanting to continue the small deeds of kindness that he would do, that he didn't think meant anything but to her and everyone around him meant the world.

Of course at this point she had no idea he is actually alive.

Whenever genji had a free moment in OverWatch, he would be trying to find her/find a way to contact her, and thinking of all the ways that he could go about explaining everything to her and apologizing for not finding her sooner and not being there. With a million thoughts running through his head not knowing how to go about it. Telling Hanzo was one thing because as much as his brother didn't like to believe it he was predictable, Genji knew pretty much exactly how Hanzo was going to react and could guess every single thing he would do the entire meeting, and even though he knew kiriko he knew that she wasn't like Hanzo, kiriko most likely changed so much you know those years, unlike Hanzo who stuck in the past. She didn't know how she would react, if she would hate him, if she would be happy, if she would punch him in the face the second she saw him, A million ways he could go about it and not one he was certain on. After talking with zenyatta and Angela he eventually decided todo what felt right.

(when reading this next part, picture it with the calm happy music from the kiriko cinematic! It adds to the feels)

So on random evening, the elevator doors opened and out walked a man who had never been there before. A man wearing a gray hoodie and joggers, with what looked like a cybernetic hand, with his hood pulled up and a black cloth mask covering his lower face, and from under the hood peeked a couple strands of bright green hair, and in hand where two boxes of doughnuts. And on his way walking to one of the doors he stopped and said hello to the old man who appeared to be the janitor/maintenance man for that apartment building, and a little girl wearing a kitsune mask with a fox plushie in hand. She was sitting on the floor coloring with crayons, where upon closer inspection she was trying a very familiar green haired girl then also familiar blue spirit fox. Smiling under his mask, he bent down to get a closer look at the drawing, which caught the girls attention, initially being a little scared he signed to her telling her that it's okay and he just wanted to compliment her drawing. She shyly thanked him, and then Genji asked what her name was, to which she replied with "little fox" while giggling and then asked what his name was, and he replied with "Sparrow" and told her that he was here to see a friend that he hasn't seen for a really long time. Did they then said/signed their goodbyes, has Genji stood back up bringing the donuts with him and proceeded to walk to the end of the hall. Where he paused, took in a deep breath, then knocked on the door, holding up the donuts so that he couldn't be seeing through the peep hole. And when kiriko open the door, confused and who it was especially this time of night, she looked up as Genji lowered his mask and simply said "hey kiriko"

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thepayloadisgay · 11 months

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Zenyatta turned to his friend, feeling him shift position yet again, the hiss of his joints breaking the strained silence. The poised fingers at his knees relaxed, and the orbs that hovered rolled inward, settling around his neck with a pleasant chime.

“There is a disquiet within you today,” said the monk as he watched Genji shift onto his knees. “Actually, ever since Overwatch recalled you.”

A quiet sigh, as Genji straightened his back and placed his hands atop his thighs, moving each finger one by one, trying hard to centre his balance and thoughts.

“Do you regret rejoining?” asked Zenyatta as he watched his student struggle with what he usually found so easy. “I know working alongside your brother -”

“It's not Hanzo,” he interrupted, breaking his posture as the vents in his shoulders moved, hissed and coiled a swathe of steam, disturbing his ribbon. “It’s Angela.”

Zenyatta tilted his head to the side, watching the unsteady fingers of his student roll over his thighs as he re-attempted his pose. “Dr Ziegler? Is she alright?”

Genji smirked as looked ahead, his ribbon settling at his back. “She is well,” he said, spreading hands over his thighs once more. Genji remained still for a while and breathed in, out, letting the silence of their makeshift meditation room in new HQ embrace him. And with it he closed his eyes, but all he could see, was her. “I think I’m in love.”

The orbs by Zenyatta’s neck shifted, making a gentle hum as the omnic’s face shifted to mimic a human’s smile. “I could have told you that, Genji.”

Genji faltered, disrupting the rhythm of his pose. Eyes narrowed from the midday sun, voice elevated in question. “You knew?”

Zenyatta rested his hands atop his knees, pinching two fingers together slowly, and laughed. “You are different whenever you speak of her - in a good way. Your voice changes, your mannerisms shift,” he said as the orbs extended around his head and began to hover. “And when you are around her, when you look at her for a moment when she smiles, you forget.”

Genji stared at his hand, at his wrist, bound in a small yellow ribbon.

“You forget. Because all you see is her.”

He turned to Zenyatta, staring as he hovered a foot off the ground, a perfect picture of peace. “What should I do?”

“Tell her.”

#genji shimada #zenyatta #gency #just a realllly old drabble from an ancient acc i'm reposting #may post some more old stuff here too #amongst the new fics and drabbles #genji has feelings #but he sucks at them #zenyatta is just lol i love u bro but please use at least one of ur two braincells #drabble #overwatch #overwatch fic

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dei2dei · 1 month

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Fic Back Friday

For today on FBF I have a fun Overwatch (Gency) AU, THE ORACLE AND THE HUNTER. I'm a sucker for historical & fantasy AUs, and this is a fun read.

#fic back friday #overwatch #gency #angela ziegler #genji shimada #fic rec

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nitewrighter · 1 year

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The Knight of Frost, Part 2

Been playing a lot of Elden Ring and RDR2 and wouldn’t ya know it, it got me really inspired for this AU.

Thinking about the inherent eroticism of running away hysterically screaming from Elden Ring bosses...

CW: For some Horse Body Horror.

Continued from The Knight of Frost

---

Mercy grew up as most girls from her time and place grew up--much as the people in her grandmother’s story grew: she knew long, harsh winters and bright, precious summers and springs, and autumns that seemed to cascade all at once in just a few short weeks. She grew taller than most girls, and with an odd grace and delicacy about her, unbowed by the drudgery of her day to day life. But there was a kindness at her core, perhaps fueled by that constant wrestling with the end of the story, the idea that out there was a knight trapped by a curse for no reason other than the strength of his heart and loyalty. She grew up cleverer than most in her village: with an excellent head for memorization that made her an ideal apprentice for the local midwife and apothecary, and steady hands that allowed her to learn to lance buboes and quickly take over the task for her teachers when gout gave a shake to their wrists and unsureness to their fingers.

All this was paired with a no-nonsense personality that prompted little frustration from her teachers--they recalled beating her only three times--once when her daydreaming lead to idleness, another time when she directly contradicted them in front of a client, and a third time when they found she had been advising and examining in back alleys when her training was not yet complete but their clients had no coin for the apothecary’s consultation. The impressiveness of her fury and passion in defending herself in each case was only rivaled by the impressiveness of her stoicism as the birch met her backside. She was strong, and tall, and always just a little bit angry, like a lone evergreen in a dry place: needs that were not quite being met, but doing her best regardless.

All the while as she grew, the winters seemed to get longer and longer, and leaner, as they started biting into what would have been planting time and wiping out seedlings with harsh spring frosts without warning. Mercy was 11 when most of those that farmed only grain and vegetables left their village in hopes of farming warmer climes, and when the grain left, the alehouse quickly went quiet and mean. Still the village stumbled on. For a while Mercy and her grandmother managed--the sheep of their farm still managing to find gorse and dried grass amid the frost, but even they grew leaner, gave less milk, birthed fewer lambs. The village was valuable enough to travelers going through the mountains for them sustain themselves on trade for a bit. They traded cheese and wool for wheat and barley, and Mercy honed her craft healing travelers’ injuries and even acting as midwife for a birth or two. But soon those creeping winters discouraged more and more travelers from their pass, soon, what reserve supplies there were in the village dwindled, and what few people remained were more or less planning out their own timelines of leaving themselves.

Eventually Mercy and her own Grandmother had to plan for their own departure from the village, and Mercy’s grandmother’s plan amounted to “leave me to die here, I don’t care.” which of course Mercy would not accept, and that’s how Mercy ended up furiously pushing her grandmother in a wheelbarrow down the mountainside, her shepherd’s crook strapped to her back, with the entire flock of sheep in tow, bellwether bells clanking. Still determined, still just a little bit angry, and bright as a flame, her scarlet cloak billowing and pale hair whipping in the wind, and their very own snowy cascade thundering and baaaa-ing down the mountain.

They settled in a new town in the valley, sold most of their sheep for a new house, even got their footing by reuniting with some of their old neighbors. Mercy found work bonesetting, boil lancing, pulling teeth, mixing medicines, and midwifing, her grandmother focused on spinning wool from the three sheep that remained and keeping their little garden in her old age, and for a while, they were content. Mercy found even more business as more people settled into the town, driven out of their own remote villages by the cold same as her and her grandmother. She got a few offers of marriage, but her grandmother ended up scaring most of them off demanding a higher dowry, and eventually her own age got people to muttering and the offers quickly died down. She didn’t mind. Mercy was pleased to hone her skill more, and it was all she could do to let the busyness all her new customers lent her keep out the dread of more people pouring into the valley all the time--her apothecary jars and shelves getting barer and barer as she struggled to treat the influx of people. Also, deeply, quietly, Mercy and her Grandmother missed the grand vistas of their mountain village, and this town was decidedly smellier than that wide open mountain air, but it was a good enough life.

Until the winter found them once again. Curling around the mountain peaks that framed their little town and sinking slow and cold into their valley with every sunset. Nervous mutterings rose up around town as frosts wiped out seedlings and travelers spoke of more routes through the mountains closing up and becoming too dangerous to traverse. Whenever the door would open at the ale house a freezing wind would rip through.

“It’s not right. Not natural. Something has to be done,” someone would mutter into their ale.

“How is wind unnatural? And how does one expect to do anything against wind and winter?” another would reply.

“It’s the old empress’s curse,” another would murmur, “The one from the legends.”

“Well how does one expect to do anything against the long-dead and consigned to legend, Bartleby? Answer me that!” said the second. And that would usually be the end of it. But one night, when Mercy was drinking away the memory of a particularly nasty boil-lancing, a new voice spoke up.

“You could investigate,” the new voice drawled, and Mercy’s eyes flicked away from the foam of her own ale, her eyes falling on a tall figure in a wide-brimmed brown hat, “You head into the cold, you might be able to see what’s causing it. I’ve a right mind to gather several men and do just that.”

Mercy rolled her eyes and sipped her ale.

“And waste food and supplies on what may very well be a death wish?” the second villager, one of Mercy’s own displaced neighbors, scoffed a chuckle, “You travelers are always mad.”

“Maybe,” the man in the wide-brimmed hat conceded, “But... here’s the way I see it-- We go off on this trip, maybe we find out what’s making the winters the way they are, and we stop it, not promising anything like that, but if such an opportunity arises, you can be damn well sure we’ll take it. But ultimately, the goal here is to break through the old main pass to get to the capital city. From there, we re-supply, and come back here with food, more warm clothes, and, if everything’s gotten too bad... a safe way through the pass to greener pastures.”

Mercy’s mouth quirked at this. She hadn’t really thought of what moving again would look like. She could push her grandmother downhill in a wheelbarrow but finding a way out of the valley? When every path would be uphill? She sipped again, tentatively. If they made it to the capital city, she could re-stock on all the items she couldn’t forage here. Could she really trust such a retrieval to some errand boy?

“All I’d need is a handful of volunteers..” the man in the wide-brimmed hat said slowly, but everyone in the tavern gave him a visible cold shoulder.

Mercy gave a short huff into her mug before turning around to look at him.

“Would you be willing to pay for such a trip yourself?” she asked.

“It is in my interest, just as it is in everyone else’s interests, that those trade routes reopen. I have a bit of coin, I’ll pay for what supplies I can, but I know I can’t do this alone.”

Mercy thoughtfully drained the last of her ale in two gulps and set her mug on the wood of the bar. “I have need of supplies that can only be found out of this cold,” she said, not looking at him, “Is your expedition to be exclusively men?”

“I just figured only men were mad enough to go,” the man in the hat shrugged, “Is this volunteering?”

Mercy pressed her lips together. “Would I be the first?”

“The fourth,” his hat flopped a little with the conceding bob of his head, “But I can’t afford dead weight.”

“Do you have a healer among you?”

“There’s Baptiste, but he’s a sellsword. I fear his knowledge of healing comes from just as much as what kills you.”

“You wound me, my friend!” a dark man with a bright smile called from the other end of the bar.

“Miss Mercy, surely you aren’t considering traveling with this vagrant!” one the tavern patrons touched her sleeve.

“Supplies are dwindling,” was all Mercy could reply. She looked back at the stranger in the wide-brimmed brown hat with a stern determination. “I’m trained in herbalism, midwifing, bonesetting, and several disciplines of barber-surgery. I don’t eat much and I have a strong back. Is that good enough?”

“Eh--” it took a moment for the man in the hat to regain his composure, “Y-yes, It’ll suffice.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” she stuck a hand out, “Mercy Goatsrue, at your service.”

“Cole Caisede, miss,” he clasped her wrist with his opposite hand and shook it, “At your service.”

In truth it took some convincing for her grandmother to let her go. And even then it was like “Go ahead, leave me to die!” and Mercy could only respond with, “You won’t die so long as there’s any opportunity to spite me further,” and her grandmother replied, “So you’d better not die then, you damned foolish girl!” And that was about as warm a goodbye as either of them would get. It was dark and very early in the morning when the party departed up the main path out of the valley. Mercy in her scarlet cloak, Cole Caisede looking every bit the rugged mountaineer in his hat and cloak, smiling, knowing Baptiste donning a veritable hodgepodge of clothes from different lands, and a towheaded man with wind-blistered skin who only tersely introduced himself as Bayless who provided two scrawny mules and a wagon for their supplies. It was far too early in the morning for there to be many people seeing them off, and much of the village thought the expedition was too mad to see them off with fanfare. It was quiet and gray, with slow-drifting flakes peppering the air. The path out of the village lead to an incline that started reasonably, but soon had to split into rocky, tedious switchbacks that took some convincing to move the mules along. It took them a day to reach halfway up the bowl of the valley, and they spent the first night trying to find and point out their houses and farms and the different landmarks below.

Finally, when they crested the lip of the valley, Mercy drew in a breath of the still and sparkling air. It was brighter up here, with the valley so prone to the shadows of its own walls and all the sinking cold and darkness that came with it, but that brightness did not mean warmth. Still, it was heartening for the party to feel such light as they had not known in some time. Baptiste scanned the skies, the seeming endless void of blue, the light itself rendered strange by a dazzling ring of light around the sun.

"...no birds," he said, as they pushed on through the snow.

"No seeds or bugs to eat," Mercy huffed. Her skirts had been kirtled and kilted to just below the knee, covering the tops of her boots and further insulating her wooly leggings, but the weight and wind forced her towards the back of the party. For several days the party trudged on, saying little, putting all physical and mental energy towards the seemingly endless trek forward, making camp and eating thin soups of barley and dried mushrooms by night, with their own exhaustion prompting little conversation. Eventually the gradual lightening of their packs, the long hours together, and their own adjustment to the toil of their journey prompted more words.

"Do you give any credence to those 'curse' whispers?" Cole asked as he poked at their campfire one night.

"My grandmother told me the story all the time when I was small," said Mercy, scraping up the last now-cold dregs of her soup, “It always frustrated me that it... always felt unfinished... but it feels dangerous to walk into a story that isn’t your own.”

"My logic has always been, the more thought one gives to a curse, the more power a curse has," said Baptiste, running his knife along a whetstone.

"But it ain't natural, we're in agreement there, right?" Cole propped his forearm up on his knee.

"Wasn't this whole expedition your idea?" Mercy set her bowl down and drew up her flannels around herself.

"Well if the curse is real, that doesn't mean I'm just going to sit down and take it," said Cole, "But the quality of the light up here...the stillness, I must say it lends itself to queer thoughts and fancies."

"You are already naturally given to queer thoughts and fancies, my friend," said Baptiste, not looking at him but giving a lazy wave of his knife in Cole's direction.

Cole gave a wry, smiling huff at that, his breath fogging in the firelight.

There was a braying and nickering and the three of them all glanced at Bayless, who was tending to the mules. Bayless was muttering things to them, not audible over the wind and the crackle of the fire.

“Everything all right over there?” Cole called.

“They mislike it here,” was all Bayless said, coming over to the fire.

“Hm...” Cole poked at the fire, then glanced up at Mercy, “Goatsrue. You said you know the story?” he glanced up at Mercy.

“I can’t tell it like my grandmother,” Mercy shrugged.

“Tell it anyway,” said Cole.

“Cole...” Baptiste began warily.

“What? Maybe we oughta know what we’re walking into.”

“And sometimes to know a thing is to call its attention to you,” said Baptiste.

“You know, when you travel, you’re supposed to just nod politely at the local superstitions and move along--not carry them with you,” said Cole.

“It’s just a children’s story,” Mercy waved her hand, “It’s really not so terrible. I mean the giant spiders scared me but--”

“Giant spiders? Well now you can’t not tell it!”

Mercy snorted and glanced at Baptiste, who simply gave a resigned shrug, and then she told the story. The mules fell silent as she spoke, and she told herself it was just that their own tiredness had finally overwhelmed their unease. Mercy scanned the faces of her not-quite companions, then. Bayless had finished his soup and tucked into his own blankets, Baptiste kept sharpening his knife as the fire died down, not heavily indicating that he was listening, but giving her a careful glance here and there. Cole rubbed at his stubble and listened intently, sometimes popping in with the odd question as she had done with her grandmother in her childhood. The fire had settled down to embers and Baptiste and Bayless had tucked into their own sleep rolls by the time she finished.

“There weren’t as many giant spiders as I thought there would be,” said Cole.

“I said it had spiders, I didn’t say the whole thing was giant spiders.”

“...not exactly a happy ending, is it?” Cole was wriggling into his own sleep roll.

“My grandmother said it wasn’t really about having a happy ending,” replied Mercy, watching the embers, “It was about doing your best even when all hope seems lost.”

“Sounds like a cheery lady,” Cole shrugged.

“I like to think the princess grew up and came back to rescue the knight,” Mercy murmured.

“Hmm... But if she had... do you think we’d be having these winters?” Cole waved a finger at her.

Mercy pursed her lips at him a few seconds before muttering, “It’s just a story,” and getting into her own sleep roll. She watched the embers as sleep closed up around her like flower petals she had not seen in well over a year.

Cole was right about the land lending itself to strange thoughts though, as her dreams were troubling and just a little too clear to simply be dreams. She dreamt of a blue-skinned hand with blackened, claw-like fingertips crushing a little corn husk doll in its grip. She dreamt of frost bristling along spider’s webs, of spikes and twisted spires of ice, growing, growing, closing in around her. And the sounds--she could hear those uncanny sounds, the low thundering, the cracks and zips and high-pitched creaks of water freezing over. Of icicle stalactites quivering above, threatening to fall as a distant chant grew louder and louder.

The cold keeps the flesh.

In her dream she was walking through that cave, the spikes and spires moving, as if leading her on through the tunnels. Her eyes fixed on the quivering stalactites above, the chant moving through the ice, echoing off the walls too strangely for her to gauge where it was coming from. They quivered with the chant.

The cold keeps the flesh.

She couldn’t quite bring herself to react when that first icicle fell, much like anyone’s reaction time in a dream. A part of her was thankful that shatter and spray of ice in all directions was a shock enough to spring her back to consciousness, jerking awake in her sleep roll, her breath fogging as her chest rapidly rose and fell. Her eyes flicked around the camp--there was still the faint glow of embers on their fire, and the faint snoring of her compatriots, and just beyond the camp, the white landscape tinged blue by moon and starlight. She scanned the hills surrounding them, the way their crags had been buffed away beneath a blanket of snow, and that snow had been swept into smooth, curving, sometimes spiked looming shapes. She breathed as she looked around, trying to place herself in the moment.

You are on a quest. You have to cross the mountain pass and bring word of this winter to the capital city and plead for help. You need supplies to bring back to the valley. Yarrow and betony and hyssop and--

Her thoughts fell dead silent as her eyes fell on a distant figure on a hill, and she knew, in that moment that the figure was looking at her. She knew her own face as lit up in the dying embers of the fire, her head covered by that hood of scarlet for warmth, and she looked at this figure, distant and cold in all ways. They were in armor, dark and glittering and complex, taking on a bluish tinge in the moonlight much like the snow. Far too tight on them to glance off blows like normal plate. She wondered how they had even managed to get such armor on. In fact, there were ridges on the side that looked almost... skeletal. She could not see their eyes, but she could feel them, and her breath shuddered in her throat.

They seemed to be on a horse. An unusually large and oddly muscled horse, to be sure. Nothing like the tired but reliable old farm horses she knew in the valley. The eyes of the horse seemed off. She knew of the way animal’s eyes could be lit at night but there was a dullness to their paleness that made her stomach turn. The coloring of the horse seemed off as well--it seemed a piebald at first or perhaps that was the manner of tack in these parts? No, they weren’t so far from the valley for it to look so--

The horse shifted slightly in the moonlight and a sound of horror fell out of her as she clamped her hand over her mouth on instinct. But what was the point? This figure already saw her. And she herself could not break her eyes away from them in turn. But the horse--the horse was not made of all a horse should be made of. She had read enough medical texts and done enough surgeries on suppurated flesh to know it when the horse’s flank caught the moonlight. This was a horse whose flank and back left leg had been reconstructed from the corpses of men. The chant echoed in her head:

The cold keeps the flesh.

Bile burned the back of her throat and tears welled in her eyes but she knew she could not spare either so she kept her hand clamped on her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut and silently begged what gods were watching to wake her up once more.

“Goatsrue?!” Cole had jerked awake at the sound she had made, “What is it? What do you see?!”

Her hand flinched away from her mouth shaking and she moved to point at the hill, but the figure and their horse were already gone.

#I can't TELL you what a goddamn relief it is to be pumping fics out again #Gency #Ice Wraith Genji AU #CW: old-timey use of queer (as in 'unusual') that is also kind of a double entendre but not really #you know that situation where 'strange' just doesn't hit quite the way you want to and 'queer' has a certain intimacy to it? Is that just me #good bye fucked up deer fall it's time for fucked up horse winter

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