#she’d have killed gerard and taken over the whole operation i think AND NO IT’S NOT UNREALISTIC I BELIEVE IN HER

[metagalacticx]

“You haven’t even decorated?!”

Fictober Day 7✨

cw: violence (but like, canon-typical violence)

————

In the light of day Violet had made a pledge to herself. One that turned into a working mantra. Be chill. Be very chill. Do not freak out.

It had worked for the better part of three hours. No one had upset her enough for her to roll her eyes, or for that saccharine sweet smile she fires when pissed beyond belief to make an appearance. She had driven around downtown Beacon Hills picking up all the pre-ordered gifts, because everyone knows a party with close friends isn’t complete without them. Tiny gifts, but gifts nonetheless. At one point someone had cut her off in traffic and she’d dug nails into the steering wheel with a grimace, but remained otherwise composed. Be chill. Be very chill. Do not freak out.

"Is it… all right if I stand here?"

The voice comes from somewhere behind her and she’s wishing she had blown up at that stupid old lady on the street earlier, because then it’d have probably taken the edge off whatever she’s about to spit at Liam fucking Dunbar and his stupid mop of wet, floppy hair.

"Free country, Dunbar."

"But is it… all right… with you?"

With her jaws still clenched, she spins to find him beside her.

His eyes are wide, lake-blue now under the bleak porch lights.

"I just wanted to say I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you at the door."

Perfect. So he would have pulled the stupid prank anyway.

Ruining the one event she’s been looking forward to all semester by spraying someone else from head to toe with silly string, dousing someone else with flour, ruining someone else’s salon-perfected hair with yolk and shell and whatever other fucking gross thing he’d swiped over her dress.

"I swear, ask Mase when he gets here! He helped me plan it. It was supposed to be Garett."

Be chill. Be very chill. Do not fucking freak out.

"Are we cool?" He asks through that kicked puppy pout with eyebrows drawn down over piercing blue eyes that look so pathetic on his wet face. He’s lucky it wasn’t Garrett. He’d be nursing a broken nose by now.

"You know what," she cackles, sharp and loud, "we’re cool.

My dress is ruined, my hair is… really ruined, and now I smell like whatever the hell’s growing on the white-stained socks under your bed but we’re really fucking cool, Dunbar. We are ice fucking cold."

Liam winces but doesn’t move. "I know everything sucks, I promise I’ll help you clean up before everyone else gets here. Truce?"

Truce?

She balls her fist and swings. Liam ducks, but just barely.

"Hey!"

"I’m gonna strangle you!"

"Wait!" He’s pleading but not exactly trying to get away. "Hey, I get it, okay? Let’s just— fuck!"

Her kick lands and he’s hopping along the edge of the porch, away from her but not heading inside or out to the lawn like he should. Like she expects him to.

"Violet, wait! I’ll let you punch me, I get it. Just wait!"

She’s seething, eyes tracking the bobbing blur of Liam across the porch of his house. Where everyone else should be showing up in less than an hour for their costume party. The one she’s been planning with him for three weeks. The one he just fucking ruined.

"Stop moving, you fucking glazed donut!"

Liam does stop, but only to let out a surprised chuckle, "Glazed donut…?"

"I’m gonna kill you!"

Someone screams, it sounds like someone screams, but she’s not concerned because she’s got Liam by the throat and he’s flat on his back on the porch. It’s only when he’s knocking wrists and elbows against the floor— in his scramble to get away from the knee lodged in his side— and the sound hits her ears again that she realises the high-pitched shriek had come from him.

"Violet, wait! If you kill me—" he coughs as she tightens her hold around his neck. Her teeth are bared and if she just had slightly bigger hands, a slightly stronger grip she could—

"Who’s gonna—” he splutters, digs blunt nails into her wrist, “who’s gonna decorate the house?"

"You haven’t even decorated?!"

#asks #teen wolf #liam dunbar #violet #violet teen wolf #the orphans #? lmao #anyway #ficx #whew so um yeah hope this is okay 😭 #i love her i think she should have been with monroe in s06 #she’d have killed gerard and taken over the whole operation i think AND NO IT’S NOT UNREALISTIC I BELIEVE IN HER #i support women’s wrongs <3

[nitewrighter]

I just finished reading the pre-fall Gency argument fic that you made in response to an ask/prompt about another fic, and it’s amazing! Do Genji and Mercy make up after their argument, though? Does Genji tell Mercy more about what really happened with Moira in the Pining/Flight fic, and does he manage to explain to her why he felt he should still be stopping the Shimada clan (the part where he started to trip over his words during the pre-fall argument)? I’m so sorry for all the questions, but I loved this fic so much and would love to see them resolve their argument!

Yeah they make up, but more importantly have you ever gone, “OH FUCK I FIGURED OUT HOW TO WORK THIS FIC INTO A MAJOR CANON PLOT POINT?” Anyone?

Continuing off of this ficlet.

----

Genji lay on his narrow bed, staring at the too-high ceiling of his quarters and replaying the argument between himself and Mercy in his head as he had done so for the past few days.

I messed up.

A part of him felt like he should be used to it, after years of Hanzo telling him he was an embarrassment, but this stung differently and deeper. It wasn’t not meeting the draconian standards of the clan, it was realizing he had a perspective on death that was fundamentally incompatible with the morals of someone he cared for deeply. He glared at the ceiling as he remembered Moira’s words.

You’re finally understanding the difference between those up there, and those of us down here.

But McCree had spoken up against what Reyes had done. He wouldn’t shut up about it the whole mission. 

Well he and Angela were close so... Genji’s thoughts trailed off then, wondering if Ziegler and McCree would talk about how he and Reyes were monsters.

Even after having his body destroyed and reconstructed to this patchwork of flesh and metal, it had at least given him focus and purpose: vengeance. It was a relief from all the pain to commit himself to the destruction of the Shimada clan, to killing Hanzo, and he could have done that through Blackwatch, but now one death of someone who definitely had it coming had blocked the path. He had no way of knowing what was ahead, and he had just alienated one of the few people at the Watchpoint he actually liked talking to. But she didn’t get it, the Shimada clan had to be stopped. Hanzo had to die. What kind of world did she think she was living in? He raised his prosthetic hand and ran the thumb of his organic hand along the lines of its plates.

You’re not a weapon. I can’t let everything Overwatch touches become a weapon...  he remembered her words from the garden on a night that felt so long ago.

So what am I? Shimada Ninja? Blackwatch Agent? Assassin by another name?  Machine? his eyes trailed to his organic hand, Man?

He let his hands drop, hanging over the sides of the bed, I guess I’ve managed to screw up as every single one of those.

His morning alarm started beeping and he sighed. Cybernetics always woke him up a little too early.

After freshening up in the dormitory washrooms and dressing , Genji stepped out of his quarters and walked down the hall to the main body of the Blackwatch facilities. There were fewer bodies moving between the offices today. A significant number of office workers and agents had been either suspended or relocated to other Overwatch operations, and the remaining faces looked exhausted and grim.

It’s not just Angela dealing with the fallout of Venice... thought Genji as he walked through. He needed to talk to McCree, he decided. He wasn’t quite ready to talk to Angela yet. A part of him knew he needed to apologize, but another part of him knew an apology was worthless without a clear adjustment in behavior and perspective--and with the path before him so obscured now, he wasn’t sure what that shift would entail. Plus if anyone knew how to smooth things over between people, especially someone also from Blackwatch...

Genji’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard muffled shouting from Reyes’s office.  He looked around and saw what few agents were down in the Blackwatch offices had all chosen to give Reyes’s office a massively wide berth. One intern lingered close to the glass with wide eyes before being quickly escorted away by a more seasoned-looking clerk. The glass walls around Reyes’s office had been tinted opaque, but he made out Morrison’s muffled voice.

“---can assure you our agents and local law enforcement are doing everything they can, Gérard--”

“Don’t give me that!” Gérard was the shouter, something that sounded unnatural to Genji given how polite Gérard had always been in his previous brushes with the UN Attaché. “None of this would have happened if you had kept Reyes and his team where they needed to be!”

“We don’t have enough intel on Talon movements to know the timeframe on---”

“We have even less intel because of the shit you pulled in Rialto! Do you know how many active files I had to surrender to the UN Inquiry to keep Blackwatch from being completely gutted?!” Gérard snapped, “Talon took my wife and thanks to you I have to deal with that with both hands tied behind my back!”

“You’re not dealing with it alone--” Morrison was trying to reassure him.

“Morrison I cannot tell you how sick I am of covering for you covering for Reyes--And the fact that covering for Reyes is largely my job speaks to how much control you’ve ceded--” Gérard snarled.

“Chewing us out won’t get her back,” Reyes’s voice cut in bitterly.

“No, but you should both understand it’s one more product of your mistakes,” Gérard’s voice was thick.

Genji hadn’t realized how close he was leaning to the tinted glass of the office and started briskly walking down the hall, trying to put as much distance between himself and whatever was going down between Reyes, Morrison and LaCroix.  He heard the door slide open and shut and picked up the pace of his walk. He heard bitter muttering in French a ways behind him before hearing, “Agent Shimada?”

Genji pretended not to hear and started walking a bit faster down the hall.

“Agent Shimada!” there was a rapid clacking slap of expensive oxfords on the cement floor and Gerard suddenly caught up with him. Fast, was all Genji thought at first, I guess he was a field agent at some point-- But that trail of thought cut off as Genji took in the disheveled appearance of the usually suave and stylish Gérard Lacroix. Licks of dark hair were shrouding one side of his forehead, broken free of their usual glossy black coif. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket or tie, his sleeves rolled and rumpled up to his elbows and his usually paper-crisp collar rumpled and wilting, his suspenders emphasizing all the wrinkles of his usually immaculate shirts. He smelled like cigarettes. Genji didn’t even know he smoked. 

“I need to talk to you--it’s paramount importance--Your dossier said Talon tried to recruit Sojiro once--Yes?”

“Um... yes?” said Genji.

“Do you remember any names from that time?” Gérard gripped Genji’s shoulders and Genji’s arms tightened at his sides at the touch, Gérard’s eyes were wide, pleading.

“Er...” Genji hesitated.

“Anything. Any name at all. Even aliases are a lead. Code names are a cypher. I can figure this out. We can get her back--we have to--there should have been demands--there have to be demands--we can’t negotiate but we can buy time--isolate the signal--” Gérard’s fingers were drumming on Genji’s prosthetic shoulder as if punching out sums on an invisible calculator. He wasn’t even looking at Genji.

“I... wish I could help,” Genji’s words came slowly to him. They felt strange, soft, helpless. He really couldn’t remember any names from that time, at least none that he could be sure he actually remembered and hadn’t just pulled out of nowhere that would only lead Gérard on a wild goose chase. For Genji, the only really memorable part of that meeting had been Hanzo had taken a shine to some Talon lieutenant and refused to tell Genji about it when he asked.  

So much for specialized Shimada intel... Genji thought a little bitterly. But Gérard stared straight into Genji’s eyes and Genji saw a flicker of heartbreaking realization in Gérard’s expression.

“....listen to me,” Gérard’s voice dropped slightly as his hands dropped from Genji’s shoulders, “I....I’m talking to a suspended agent hoping for nearly decade-old leads...” Gérard made a sound that was between a chuckle and stuffing down a sob as he pushed those dark licks of hair from his face, “I’m a mess without her.”

Genji’s stomach stung a little at the words ‘suspended agent.’ It had felt so temporary but hearing it from Gérard made it sink in as a reality with no visible end, but just as affecting was Gérard’s distress, the fact that the charming, if a little litigious, agent was suddenly up to his neck in paralyzing fear and helplessness when he wasn’t the one in danger. Genji studied Gérard for a few seconds.  

“Without.... who?” said Genji. He knew it was Gérard’s wife but wasn’t about to let Gérard know he had heard the whole exchange between him, Reyes, and Morrison.

“Amélie,” Gérard seemed to be looking through Genji then, his brow crinkled, “Talon they--I mean we’re not positive yet but--well you aren’t cleared for this yet. I shouldn’t...”

“Suspended,” Genji shrugged, “And... looking like this, I can’t exactly get off-site to talk about it.”

Gérard huffed “And... I’ve heard you’re not exactly the talkative type,” Gérard smiled a little.

“Ninja,” Genji shrugged.

“I-I think she’d like you...” His shoulders sagged, “Practical... steady... if she were here she’d probably tell me I’m making a fool of myself.”

You are and I have no idea how to help you so please let me go, thought Genji, but the smile on Gérard’s face eased him a bit. Genji wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling--helping and yet not helping. He remembered certain looks in Mercy’s face when he would talk about the Shimada clan, those hints of wanting to do something but feeling the ability to do so just beyond his reach. How often did she feel that with all of his fury? With all his grief?

“I wish I understood what was going through Reyes’s mind in Rialto...” Gérard spoke and startled Genji from his own thoughts. 

“...Antonio told him his associates would get him out within the week, Reyes... responded... practically,” said Genji.

“Practically,” a huff fell out of Gérard, “Just like in the debriefs.”

Genji’s brow crinkled. “The point of Blackwatch is to operate from the shadows. It was never about how it would be seen because it... wasn’t meant to be seen.”

“But it still has effects,” Gérard murmured, “And you still have to live with yourself afterwards.”

You still have to live with yourself.

The image of Zhihong Peh gurgling on his own blood on the end of Genji’s sword flashed to his mind. The thwack of his father hitting a fish on a rock in Shirakami-sanchi.

Make it clean. Make it quick.

“Would Amélie still have been taken if...?” Gérard’s voice pulled Genji from his memories again, but Gérard just lowered his head and furrowed his brow. “It doesn’t matter now.  have to find a new angle. I have to... she...” he lifted his chin slightly, “Monsieur Shimada. I appreciate you putting up with the ravings of a madman. I must go. Thank you.”

“....you’re welcome?”  said Genji, but Gérard was already walking past him.

Genji stood there in the hallway a few minutes longer. Amélie LaCroix had been taken. Whether or not that had happened in response to killing Antonio remained to be seen... but it was clear that the fallout from Rialto had not helped. He looked at his hands. For so long ‘practical’ had been a straight line, but now it seemed that the path he had been carving out was caving in on him. What was practical now?

Whatever you can do to help.

And where do you start?

With the people who you know always help.

----

It was late at night in the lab and Mercy was nodding off slightly, her chin in her hand at her monitor when a coffee mug gently clacked down on the desk beside her. She flinched awake and her head swung around to see Genji slowly withdrawing one hand, holding his own coffee cup in the other.

“Peace offering,” said Genji, “...if you don’t want to deal with me right now, you don’t have to. Say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Mercy tentatively picked up the mug and sipped at it, glaring at Genji slightly through her eyebrows before lowering the cup into her lap.

“What do you want?” she said, her voice clipped. 

“I wanted to say... I’m sorry for storming off like that and...You were right,” Genji said quietly, “Killing Antonio creates far more problems than it solves.”

There was some hope in Mercy’s eyes, but she also gave him a sort of uneasy, puzzled look.

“And...” Genji’s voice was a bit more tight, “On a... lawful and ethical level, it... was wrong.” He dropped his voice to a low mutter, “Even if he would have wormed his way out of the law.”

Mercy huffed and smiled a little. “I... I know the law also needs reforms so that doesn’t happen, so that justice can be done... but in the meantime...”

“In the meantime we shouldn’t shoot people in the face,” Genji conceded with a shrug.

“Right,” said Mercy. Her smile was a little crooked. There was a long silence then, tentative, and a little anxious. Genji leaned against the desk, wrapping his organic hand around the mug, taking some comfort in its warmth.

“Angela—I need you to understand something about me,” Genji said, not looking at her.

“Please don’t—“ Mercy started.

“Just listen. The first time the clan made me kill someone, I was 14 years old,” Mercy’s eyes widened and Genji’s knuckles rolled tight on the coffee mug, “And that wasn’t the only person I killed for them.

Mercy’s shoulders shrank inward, her eyes not meeting his.

“The clan,” Genji paused and took a steadying breath before continuing, “Worked to make me into something… no one should be. It…cultivated a way for me to see the world that very much affected my concepts of what is acceptable. What is good.” He gave a short huff. “But I don’t… I don’t want to be them. I don’t want to cause the same hurts they have caused.”

She looked at him then. That same searching look. That same ‘I want to help but I don’t know how’ look, and Genji’s stomach stung with the strange helplessness he felt when Gérard was gripping his shoulders earlier that day.

“But Blackwatch never asked me to question what the clan taught me. It just… saw I was angry, saw I was hurt, and pointed me in a certain direction,”  he huffed, “And now I’m stuck here. And I can’t do anything. And... ” he took a steadying breath, “I care about you. I care about our friendship. And I care about what you think of me. I don’t know... if I will ever be fully rid of what the Shimada clan cultivated in me... it... it feels like it only got sharper after what Hanzo did to me. It feels rooted in my very survival instincts. But I know I don’t want to be Reyes, and I don’t want to lose you, and... if what Blackwatch did caused all this hurt to all these people who had nothing to do with what happened in Rialto.. it’s true that it should be suspended.”

Mercy blinked a few times. “Do you really mean that?”

“Well... to an extent...” said Genji, “If Blackwatch still had its intel networks up...”

“Maybe we could help Gérard find Amélie,” Mercy said quietly.

“You know about Gérard?” Genji looked over at her.

“I only got the briefing a few hours ago,” said Mercy. She was quiet for a few seconds. “Genji... I... I don’t think you’re a bad person for what the Shimada clan conditioned you to do. You do scare me sometimes, but I genuinely believe, deep down, you want to do good.” 

“I scare you?” Genji lifted his prosthetic hand and looked down at it.

“Not because of that...” Mercy touched the metal of his knuckles and he let his hand drop as his eyes raised to hers, “I--I’m scared for you. I don’t want you to think you’re alone. And--and I want you to be able to have a life outside of Overwatch.” She huffed. “That’s what it does. It takes in people who have nowhere else to go and who just want to help and it takes everything they can give and you never know if it’s being used to help or to...” her voice trailed off and she was staring forward. Genji touched her shoulder gently.

“For what it’s worth... without Overwatch I would have never met you,” said Genji.

“I’m glad I’ve met you too,” said Mercy, smiling a little, “Silver linings right?” 

“Right...” said Genji.

A long pause passed between them. 

“...so where do we go from here?” said Genji, quietly.

“Well... I still have my work... I suppose this means we can spend more time together?” Mercy shrugged, “And... with Blackwatch suspended... maybe you can take some time to figure out what you want. Outside of Overwatch. Outside of taking down the Shimada clan.”

I don’t know how ready I am to deal with that, thought Genji, but he just nodded.

“So...” Genji swirled his coffee in its mug, “What are you working on tonight?”

“Well... apparently there’s been this incident at Watchpoint Pembrey,” said Mercy, glancing back to her monitor, “But it’s very confusing on, well... a physics level?”

“Something is confusing the genius Angela Ziegler?” Genji pulled up a chair, “Tell me more.”

Mercy snickered a little. Then started telling him.

#gency #gerard lacroix