paradoxmage117
My Little Corner Of Hell
Please Enjoy Your Stay
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Author Ask Game
tagged by: @turbo-toast You are now the reason I’ve opened up Tumblr for the first time in literal months.
author name: ParadoxMage
where you post: AO3
most popular one-shot: Uhhh... Wow I haven’t looked at that in forever. First Kiss, this dumb little bit of adorableness for Emily/Lena from Overwatch that got prompted by some post or another. Apparently people like cute stuff!
most popular multi-chapter story: Midnight Messages, easily. Was my longest story of all time for a long time, before the sequel finally overtook it. It took me a long time and I’m so incredibly happy that it was received so warmly.
favorite story you wrote: Hmm... Hard question. First one that comes to mind is a fic I wrote called Armistice which I wrote for the WidowTracer servers Secret Santa as a gift for TheRealG. It was a pure and simple 5K fic, and it just felt really good to write and I loved the whole process of creating it. Might be that one.
story you were nervous to post: Probably my first one. I don’t think I’ll link it because I was a significantly worse writer then and I try not to dwell on what I did or didn’t do, but the first step is always the hardest. It went ok though, seeing as I’m still around now, nearly three years later.
how do you pick your titles: Uhhhhh. I’ll let you know when I figure it out. Usually I just stare at the page until I think of something I don’t hate.
do you outline: For long stuff YES. Otherwise my brain would explode. For one-offs I often just go stream of consciousness if they’re short.
how many of your stories are complete: 33. In the early days I mostly wrote one-offs that were only a few hundred words long. I accrued a decently sized library of fics that way.
in-progress: 3. Midnight Revelations, the sequel to Midnight Messages, Midnight Extras, which is side stories from that series, Lifeblood, a fic which I keep meaning to continue but haven’t yet (whoops).
coming soon: I update Midnight Revelations every other Saturday, so that’s coming. Other than that I don’t have much in the way of plans unless inspiration smacks me one like Maxwell’s silver hammer.
do you accept prompts: Absolutely! If anyone wants to give them to me. No promises I’ll finish them though... I’ve been terrifyingly busy lately.
upcoming story you’re the most excited for: I’ve been working on Midnight Revelations for the better part of a year and change and we’re starting to get into some interesting territory. I’m having a lot of fun with it. >:)
tag five fanfic authors to answer these questions: Uhh.. I don’t know if I know that many on here, I don’t use Tumblr that much. @mizuaoi, @for-general-madness, @redcap3, @budgiebum I guess. Well, this was certainly fun. Now to never use Tumblr again.
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Hey you, you're awesome! Keep it up!
Well this came out of left field! I haven’t even opened this Tumblr up in months, and then I get this.
Thank you. So much. I really needed to hear that right now.
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Midnight Revelations Ch. 6
She spends the rest of that day and the following one in the medical ward.
It is nice, almost.
Angela runs many tests, drawing blood and checking her lungs and a hundred other things, but that is not of import. Needles cannot hold any fear for her, so the tests are simply a thing to be done quickly and efficiently.
The uncomfortable part is Angela, though she is in some way also a great comfort. It has been a long time since she was able to hold a simple conversation with someone without watching every word and taking care not to let herself slip. Her conversations with Lena have been almost entirely over text. It is nice to be able to just talk to a person as though she is human too.
But she can feel an undercurrent of… something, beneath it. The way Angela looks at her. It’s some strange combination of shock, joy, and, just maybe, guilt.
She finally addresses it on the morning of her second day in the medical wing, while Angela is taking her blood pressure.
“What happened?” she asks. “What happened after Gérard was found and I disappeared? Angela, you look at me like you don’t know who you are seeing. Why?”
And you look so guilty, she thinks to herself.
The doctors hands keep going through the motions, finishing up reading her blood pressure, her mind far in the past.
At last, once she has set the cuff and manometer aside, she looks up and meets Amélie’s gaze.
“What happened?” Angela says. “You want to know the truth?”
Her gaze falls to the floor, and her voice is soft.
“I failed you. That’s what happened.”
Amélie looks at her, not understanding what the doctor means. She tells her so.
Angela keeps her eyes down. “When they found you after all that time, they obviously wanted to have you examined. A physical and psychological evaluation. Who do you think they had review your condition?”
Realization dawns. “You.”
Angela nods. “Me,” she says simply. “And I couldn’t find anything wrong. Not one thing. You could barely remember what had happened, and I had no reason to keep you under observation for more than a few days, so Gérard took you home. And then he was dead and you were missing. And I knew it had to have been my fault.”
Angela is still talking to the floor, as though she can’t bear to meet the gaze of the woman who, in her mind at least, she doomed.
“I didn’t find out just how horrible my mistake was until a few months ago, when Ana and 76 arrived. Before that, no one had made the link between the presumed dead Amélie Lacroix and Talon’s new sniper. And then she told us about what you had become, and I couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that the woman I knew, my friend, could be capable of such things. And as it turns out, I was right. You weren’t capable, but the creature they created was. But what you became, what they made you, is my fault. I should have seen it, should have stopped it. And now, it’s too late.”
There are tears leaking down Angela’s pale face, the story of her failing finally on display to the woman she failed. Angela starts to turn, to put distance between the two of them, when Amélie’s blue arms wrap around her and pull her close.
“You cannot blame yourself Angela. I won’t let you. The past is done, and there is nothing you can do to change it. You did everything you could then, and it is only with hindsight that you could know any better.” Amélie hugs her tighter. “It’s ok.”
Angela responds in kind.
Nine years later, and their tears can finally be shed.
Ao3 Page
Ko-Fi
Midnight Messages
#MyWork#fanfic#overwatch fanfic#overwatch fanfiction#widowmaker#mercy#Midnight Messages#Midnight Revelations
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ATTENTION PET OWNERS
This post is going to rushed but I’m still shaking and it’s hard to type but I NEED people to know this
My mom just took my dog to the vet
She(my dog) was(still is?) having a seizure
Last month we took my dog to the vet and they told us she had developed diabetes, they told us it was caused by the food she was eating, purina beneful.
They told us that there have been many many many reports of Beneful has been causing diabetes, seizures, and even death in dogs.
We had no idea
We immediately switched her food and put her on a special diet plan for her diabetes, unfortunately the effects were already permeate.
Today at 11:20 my mom woke me up crying, I helped her carry my dog to the car (while she was still having a seizure) and watched her drive away red faced and still crying.
Please please PLEASE if you are feeding your pets Purina beneful PLEASE switch their food ASAP
Beneful is poising dogs and I don’t want anyone else to experience what I just did
Also if you could please help me signal boost this so everyone can know
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me @ my cat: baby enjoy toy. mommy buy for you. enjoy entertainment baby
cat: fuck you. give me more crumpled starbucks receipts
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it’s actually evil that ppl wanna say that they support bi women but then as soon as a bi woman is dating a man & she wants to talk about her attraction she’s shut down in lgbt spaces bc no one wants to hear about het relationships. if you shut down bi ppl discussing their attraction to the opposite gender then you are not an ally to bi ppl & you never were
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in 👏 2019 👏 we 👏 finish👏 our 👏 WIPs 👏
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“i am a monument to all your sins” is such a fucking raw line for a villain it’s amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos
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The Raptor’s Grip by ccauchemar
Chapter 8: Encryptic
Summary: Doomfist holds debrief with his special ops agents. Later, in secret, Sombra warns Widowmaker that Talon intends to recondition Lena. Widowmaker insists she has a debt to repay - Despite the odds, they can’t let Lena become another victim of Talon.
(to get around tumblr’s nonsense, a link to the chapter will be posted in my first reblog of this post)
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Yo ADHD folks are you looking for an app to help you remember to get stuff done?
Because if so I’d like to recommend Habitica!
You make a little avatar of yourself!
Totally customizable!
And!!! If you’re wheelchair bound, guess what! Wheelchairs for your avatar are free! Check it out!
You have the categories of Habits, Dailies, and a To-Do list
And every time you check something off, you get health and XP!
Huzzah! I leveled up!
Use your XP to buy items and rewards!
I'ma give my little avatar a new helmet!
You also can get little pets!
I hatched a dragon!
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Midnight Revelations Ch. 5
Hey guys. Another 2 weeks, another chapter, as promised. I’m gonna start sticking these under the cut so you don’t have to scroll too long. Enjoy!
She comes back to herself slowly at first, the first thing to enter her hazy mind the dull realization that she cannot remember where she is or how she got there. Once the true meaning of that thought registers she bolts into full consciousness, throwing herself from the unfamiliar bed and settling into a ready combat stance in a way that is far too practiced.
“Amélie?”
She doesn’t think, simply moves, and suddenly a pair of blue eyes are looking up into her own from the floor, their owner pinned to the ground by a pair of violet hands that Amélie takes a moment to realize are her own.
Those eyes are watching her, incredibly steady for someone who was just thrown to the ground by what would appear to all observers to be an enemy operative about to make a kill.
Those eyes are looking at her.
They are seeing her.
They know her.
“Amélie, it’s ok,” the eyes say, the voice female and faintly accented. “It is the 22nd of June, 2076. A little over a week ago Overwatch lead a strike team into a secured Talon base on a raid and found you in a highly guarded lab. They brought you back here, where you have been free of Talon’s influence since. You passed out in the meeting room three hours ago and we brought you to the medbay to treat you how we could and wait for you to regain consciousness. You are safe.” Those eyes stay locked on hers, projecting truth and surety and safety to bolster the words.
She feels her grip loosen and her hands pull away with no real direction from conscious thought. Her mind is too busy processing the words, feeling the reality of them click into place. She looks around clearly for the first time, registering the medical equipment, the IV drip dangling from its bag, the bed which she had just vacated and that is now covered in a tangle of bedding… and the blonde woman who owns the blue eyes that seem to know her, still on the floor where Amélie had pinned her, as though she is afraid to move.
It is the doctor.
No. She has a name. She knows her name.
“...Angela?”
Those eyes flash, with pain, with joy, and with all the other things that Amélie has seen swirling there in every interview but has never been able to put a name to.
She now knows one more of them.
It is recognition.
“I think I knew you?” she says, and as the words come out they stop being a question and become a fact.
A memory flickers behind her eyes, just a glimpse, but ironclad in its clarity. A hospital bed, Gérard lying motionless in it, a machine next to him displaying his vitals. And next to her, a hand held comfortingly on her shoulder, is Angela.
The doctor stands, slowly, as though she is afraid of startling her.
“Yes,” she says quietly. “You did. A long time ago.”
Slowly, she approaches and guides Amélie to sit on the edge of the bed. Amélie follows dully. Now that the knife edge of panic has left her, everything is registering sluggishly. Once she has been seated on her recently vacated cot, a question forms on her lips. She is not sure if she wants to know, but she knows she has to ask. Needs to.
“What happened?”
Angela looks at her warily. “Don’t you remember?”
She thinks back. What did the doctor say? She had passed out in the meeting room?
What had they been asking her about this time?
It comes to her after a moment. Known Talon operatives. They had shown her Sombra, Reaper, Doomfist, and…
“The doctor,” she says, and Angela’s expression is all the confirmation she needs.
“I’m not certain precisely what happened.” says Angela. “It could have been something in the modifications Talon performed on your mind and body, or it could’ve been an anxiety attack, or maybe something else entirely. What happened from your perspective?”
“It was just… cold. I felt frozen. My body went numb and my mind felt disconnected. Everything seemed to be happening far away.” She shivers at the thought. That sensation was all too like what it was to be reconditioned. Cold, devoid of thought and emotion, left without will.
Angela nods, and Amélie can see her mentally filing the information away, the doctor in her making sure to note any signs of illness or unrest in her patient. Which, Amélie is surprised to discover, she has apparently become. At the very least, she woke up in the medical wing with no restraints upon her, so perhaps her status has changed somewhat.
There is a way to know for sure.
“Will I be returned to my cell now?” she asks.
Angela shakes her head. “Not yet anyway. I’ve requested time to run some tests, assess your condition more fully. I have most of the notes on the Widowmaker project we recovered from the raid, but a lot of the data is incomplete. My guess is that the main body of information was stored on the head doctors personal computer. She was always paranoid about someone stealing her research.”
The way she says that, commenting on Talon’s surgeon and making definitive statements on the nature of her character. It rings with a deep hurt, and a familiarity.
“Did you know her?” asks Amélie. Any information about the doctor is to be sought. She is the monster that made her. She wishes to know who to blame.
Angela sighs, and she looks weary. So, so weary.
“Yes,” she manages. “I did. A long, long time ago.”
“Then do you know her name?” she asks.
Angela looks at her in surprise. “You don’t know it?”
Amélie shrugs. “When would I have had an opportunity to learn it? Talon spoke little of her, and I was not in a position to ask questions during my days there.”
The blonde doctor nods her understanding, accepting the kernel of dark past written into the statement.
“Very well. Her name is Moira. Moira O’Deorain.”
Ao3 Page
Ko-Fi
Midnight Messages
#MyWork#fanfic#fanfiction#widowtracer#widowmaker#Midnight Messages#Midnight Revelations#overwatch#overwatch fanfic
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I’m a mess right now
Open up this stupid blog after a few days to check up on things and I’ve got nearly 30 notes on my latest fic, Armistice. That hasn’t happened... well, ever, if I’m honest.
I’m a mess of pure happiness right now. Thank you all. This is the way to ring in the New Year.
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Armistice
Hello all! Merry (Late) Christmas! (I know it's the 28th, but I'm Jewish. I routinely forget about Christmas. It happens.)
This was written as part of the Widowtracer Discord's secret santa as a gift to TheRealG, of Fish. Merry Christmas ya dork! Hope you enjoy!
The title is a reference to a real event known as the Christmas Armistice, or the Christmas Truce, that happened in World War 1. Basically, in 1914, a bunch of different parts of the Western Front all had a ceasefire, and people from both sides came and went and celebrated the day. I'm not much of a history nerd, but I know at least that much and it came back to me while I was thinking about what to write. This was the result. It’s pretty long so the rest is under the cut. Hope everyone enjoys.
Lena was pulled out of the smoking wreck of her kitchen by the phone ringing. She snagged it with one hand while she grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the sink with the other, aiming the nozzle at the flickering flames currently erupting from the open oven, discharging a heavy blast of CO2 as she answered the phone.
“‘Lo?”
“Hello Lena,” replied a familiar voice.
“Winston! How ya doin bud? I was going to head over to the Watchpoint in about 15 minutes.”
She fired another blast from the extinguisher, finally dowsing the flames fully. The charred wreck of what was supposed to have been a christmas cake lay still smoking inside, reminding her of the gorilla’s various warnings that she shouldn’t try and bake anything.
“Alright, maybe 20 minutes. I had a bit of a mishap.”
“You didn’t try to cook again did you?” There was a sigh in the gorillas voice. “Lena, we’ve been over this. Your pension isn’t enough to cover replacing your kitchen every time you try to reheat something in the oven.”
“Oi!” Lena replied indignantly, but the rest of whatever objection she might have formed disappeared as she inhaled a breath of smoke and burst into a coughing fit.
“Alright, maybe you have a point,” she managed to wheeze out a moment later.
Winston let out a chuckle, though it died out a moment later. “Your magical ability to burn everything you touch isn’t why I called you. Something’s come up.”
Lena dropped the charred remains of the cake into the sink. “What’s going on? Bad news?”
“Very,” replied Winston. “I’m afraid our Christmas plans will have to be put on hold, at least temporarily.”
“Well shit.”
“I agree. But this is more important.”
“What’s happened?” Lena asked, already moving to her bedroom to grab the rest of her kit.
“There’s been a break in. An old Overwatch base on the edge of London triggered an alert, which Athena picked up. It would appear that someone is snooping through our graveyard.”
Lena stopped midway through buckling on her accelerator. “Hold on. Edge of London. There isn’t an Overwatch base there. I woulda known about one so close to home. Nearest one is you, right?”
“It would appear not,” Winston replied. “From what I can tell it was entirely off the books. A research station. Run by Blackwatch.”
Lena let out a low growl. “Of course it was them. Slimy bastards. What were they doing in there then?”
“The simple truth is that I don’t know. Whatever data they had was kept on site. We didn’t even have a record of its existence until we caught their alert.”
A realization hit her. “Then how did whoever’s robbin’ the place know to go there?” she asked, already dreading the answer.
“I don’t know, but that’s a good question to ask them when you get there. I’m sending you the coordinates. Good luck.”
“Thanks love. And I’m sorry that this had to happen on Christmas.”
There was a pause, then a sigh. “So am I.”
Wiston ended the call. Lena was already heading for the door.
◇ ◇ ◇
She stopped a street away from the address Winston had given her and parked her bike, going the rest of the way on foot.
From the outside the building looked like nothing more than an abandoned warehouse. Broken windows, grafiti, the works. You’d pass it by without a second glance. The illusion broke about two steps through the door, which from the inside was revealed to be several inches thick, titanium, and secured by three bolts each the size of her arm. All of them were severed, and the door hung slightly open.
She moved forward slowly, cautiously. Faint tracks in the dust told her that the unknown invaders were an unknown invader, and that the two of them were the first to be here in quite some time.
As she moved forward she came across signs of struggle. A broken sentry turret mounted near the ceiling was letting loose small bursts of sparks. A single hole had shattered its lens and buried itself in the things mechanical heart. In the next corridor the same sight greeted her. And the next. Each dispatched with a single shot of unerring accuracy.
A cold feeling stole over her, though she wasn’t sure why.
She kept following the footprints. Every once in a while they deviated into a room off the main hallway, but always they came back out and continued in the same direction. Whatever they wanted, they hadn’t found it yet.
Sound echoed down the hallway to her. Something slammed, there was the rustle of pages, then a thud, like a book dropped on the floor. The sounds of a search. She kept going, anticipation coiling in her belly. She flicked her pistols out of the vambraces on her arms and into her hands.
Ready.
There was a room at the end of the hallway, bigger than the others. Lena’d been in enough Overwatch bases to know the main control room when she saw it. The room was stocked with file cabinets, multiple desks with computers resting ready on them, and a central monitor in the middle of the room. The large screen was on, a progress bar displayed.
Data Transfer in Progress:
54% Complete
And rifling through one of the file cabinets was the thief themself. Herself.
Lena recognized her immediately. Blue skin, absurd getup, long hair up in a ponytail. Her eyes fell on the rifle laying on one of the desks near the cabinet being searched. She remembered that gun. Very well indeed.
She let out a whistle. Immediately, Widowmaker turned and grabbed for her gun, visor coming down over her eyes and beginning to glow red. Lena gave her a cheerful wave. The rifle came up, pointing at her.
By then however Lena was on the other side of the room, a flash of blue lighting up her passage. Pistols already ready, she let loose a quick burst of pulse rounds, unsurprised when the enemy sniper rolled out of the way and came up in a shooting position, gun in ranged configuration.
Lena closed the gap, working to take away her opponents greatest ally, distance. At range the sniper might prevail, but close up was where she herself worked best.
Widowmaker seemed to anticipate the move though, immediately reconfiguring her gun into its SMG form, letting fly a spray of bullets to block her approach. Lena blinked behind a desk for cover. As she did, the enemy turned and sprinted back down the hallway they’d both entered through.
“Hey, that’s no fair!” Lena cried after the retreating form, in hot pursuit a moment later.
Widowmaker’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a moment later Lena’s own joined the crowd of reverberations.
The other woman heard.
Widowmaker turned, firing a bluish object down the hall toward her, and Lena only remembered about her venom mines a moment too late.
The mine burst, spraying the unique toxic fog contained within, forcing Lena to her knees with coughing and choking. Through her streaming eyes she could see Widowmaker stopping for a moment to watch. She was smiling. Then she turned away and began to run towards the exit once again.
She wouldn’t be laughing for long, Lena thought. She pushed on that place in her mind that triggered her rewind, but as she did, something gleamed in the corner of her eye.
“Look out!” she cried as the rewind brought her back to the moment before the mine had exploded, on her feet and still mid stride. Her voice weren;’t filled with exhilaration though. She was afraid.
Apparently Widowmaker heard the difference in tone, and she turned to look at her formerly downed foe. Which was why the last remaining sentry guns first shot took her in the side of the head. The second caught her in her side and the third took her in the same place. There was no fourth, because by then her gun had snapped up into position and that final sentry was disabled, now with a single hole in its lens like all the rest.
Widowmaker gave a grim smile, then began to run to the exit again. It was only a few steps later when her left leg hitched, twisted… and gave out. She reached down to her side. Lena could see the blood her fingers came away covered in.
She approached the woman on the floor. Slowly now. The need for haste had gone.
“Are you alright?” she asked. She wasn’t even sure why she was asking, but the words were out before she had even thought to say them.
Widowmaker’s head twisted around violently to gauge the distance between them. The side of her visor was shattered. Lena could see a sharp cheekbone, and a golden eye glaring out at her. Then she whipped her head back around and began to lurch across the floor to where she had dropped her gun.
Lena didn’t even have to think. Without consciously deciding to do it she had blinked past the wounded woman and grabbed her rifle, throwing it down the hallway towards the still open door which beckoned a return to the normal everyday world of a London Christmas.
Lena stared at the opening for a second. Debating.
Then she turned to look back down the hall.
Widowmaker was struggling to get to her feet a few yards away, one hand pressed against her side. The purple of her suit was dripping red, and it leaked between her blue fingers in a steady flow.
“Are you alright?” Lena asked again.
Widowmaker did not reply. Using the wall, she tried to pull herself upright, but once again her leg twisted out from beneath her and she fell back to the ground, a small cry escaping her lips.
The sound was soft, barely a whisper. It was not something one might expect to hear from the world’s most feared sniper.
Lena, cursing her own foolishness, slowly began to move closer.
“How bad are you hit?” she asked.
This time Widowmaker’s gaze snapped up to meet hers, one eye still hidden behind the red glow of her masks optics, the other gleaming sharp and gold from within the shattered part of her mask.
“Shoot me yourself and finish the job, or leave if your delicate sensibilities won’t allow you to kill me,” Widowmaker snarled.
Lena ignored her. She took another step closer.
“How bad are you hit?” she asked again, keeping her voice low and calm.
“Did you not hear what I said? Kill me or leave. If you do neither than I will kill you instead.”
Lena couldn’t help herself. She laughed. It was cold, no real humor in the sound.
“Love, you’re clearly hit pretty bad. You’re out of weapons, you’re probably gonna bleed out pretty soon, and if I had to guess I’d say your comms are out from the shot that blew your helmet to smithereens. You’ve got no help coming either I’d guess, or you wouldn’t have a problem with me sticking around and having your reinforcements kill me when they show up.
“So are you gonna let me take a look or not?”
Lena felt that Widowmaker wanted very much to appear gobsmacked, but wasn’t willing to be deprived of the decorum.
“That was… surprisingly clever,” she said after a while.
Lena smiled. It was sharp. “Well I didn’t get into Overwatch by being an idiot did I? Now are we done with the formalities? Or do we need to snipe at each other a bit more?”
“I’m weighing my options,” replied Widowmaker. But even still, the next time Lena moved forward, Widowmaker didn’t try and stop her.
When Lena was within arms reach of her that changed though. Her right arm flew out without warning and caught Lena a strong blow to the side of her face. In the instant the distraction gave her Widowmaker made a break for the door.
She got another ten steps, maybe eleven, before she crumpled to the ground again.
Holding her now tender jaw, Lena slowly covered the distance between them again and crouched on the ground a few feet away from Widowmaker’s prone form.
“Well that solved a whole lot didn’t it,” she said from her spot on the ground. Widowmaker didn’t deign to reply. “You gonna do that again?” she asked.
“I make no promises,” Widowmaker said, speaking to the floor in front of her rather than to the other woman. Lena sighed, then got back up and moved next to the fallen Talon agent.
Slowly, moving as though she was handling a live bomb, Lena prodded at the area around the wounds, peeling back the tatters of Widowmaker’s jumpsuit to inspect the entry points. Some part of her was interested to see that Widowmaker’s blood wasn’t quite red. It was just slightly more purple than a normal person’s, like the red blood cells weren’t as present in her veins.
“Oh dear,” she said. She touched the skin around the area. Widowmaker let out a hiss of pain, but was otherwise silent.
“This is really, really not good,” Lena said, mostly to herself.
“I had gathered. It does tend to be a bad thing when one is shot,” Widowmaker replied dryly while still avoiding looking at her apparent helper.
“Hush you,” Lena replied absently, her attention still on the wounds. The two shots were several inches apart, one taking her in the hip and the other in her side. Probing further, she could feel both slugs still buried in her skin. She did her best to ignore Widowmaker’s muted expressions of pain as she did so. Right now those slugs were helping keep the wounds from bleeding too much, but without medical attention it wouldn’t matter either way.
Lena rose suddenly. “Right then. You. Up. Now,” she said.
“What?” asked Widowmaker, in surprise as much as anything else.
“You’ve got two slugs in you, and they ain’t coming out. If those stay in it’s not only gonna hurt like hell, but you’re gonna eventually bleed out. You need help, now. And since I think we’re both beyond the fallacy that there’s help coming for you, that leaves me. So. Up. We need to go.”
“Go? Go where?” asked the sniper, finally turning to face her. Lena once again found it disconcerting to look at her face, one eye covered red, one revealed gold.
“My place. I’ve got a few of Mercy’s portable medkits stocked up in case of emergency. I think this definitely counts.”
Widowmaker sneered. “I am not allowing you to take me anywhere.”
Lena sighed in exasperation. “Look, you’re gonna die here unless you let me help. No one’s comin’ for you, and even if they were, they wouldn’t make it here before you bled out. I can’t exactly bring one of the world’s most wanted into urgent care, I know you won’t let me take you to some of my friends who’d be able to fix you up much better than I ever could, so that leaves me taking you with me and patching you up as best I can. So are you gonna suck it up and come quietly or not?”
The sniper remained where she was on the ground. “I’m weighing my options.”
“Alright, that’s it. Up. Now.”
With a bit of difficulty, Lena managed to get the sniper to throw an arm over her shoulder. Then it was just a matter of getting them upright and shambling out the door.
Lena blinked at the brightness of the snow frosted outside. God, she’d forgotten that for the rest of the world it was Christmas. The street was covered in lights, and she took a moment to admire the scene. That moment was shattered by the sniper hanging off of her like a sack of groceries.
“Why have we stopped?” she asked, pain making her voice tight.
Lena got them moving again, heading down the street to where she’d parked her bike. “Just admiring the scenery. It is Christmas after all.”
Widowmaker gave a derisive snort, then fell silent.
“Just out of curiosity, you ever ridden a motorbike before?” Lena asked, hoping her tone sounded conversational.
Widowmaker lifted her head, and her eyes fell on Lena’s preferred method of transportation. “You have got to be kidding,” she said.
“Hey, it’s this or walk, and the Row ain’t exactly close. You should’ve picked a better place to rob,” Lena shot back.
Situating the two of them took a minute, but once Widowmaker was in place things were fine. The death grip she kept on Lena the whole ride made sure that there was no chance of her falling off.
A very tense 20 minutes passed, but they arrived at Lena’s flat without incident.
“Alright, we’re here. You done trying to crack my ribs or can I get off?” Lena asked, a hint of a smile in her voice.
Widowmaker withdrew her hands quickly, as though she wanted to pretend that she hadn’t been hanging on to the other woman for dear life moments before.
Lena stood next to her so that Widowmaker could swing an arm back over her shoulder, then she helped her down onto the pavement. Widowmaker let out a quiet grunt when her feet hit the ground, but was otherwise silent.
“This way,” Lena said, and led them up the few steps to the door to her apartment building. They crossed the lobby quickly and headed for the elevator. As they stood waiting to reach her floor, Lena could feel Widowmaker leaning on her more and more heavily.
A minute later they were on the fourth floor, and the two walked down the hallway to Lena’s flat without any trouble, entering quietly without being seen by any curious neighbors.
“Alright, right over here,” Lena said, leading the now semiconscious woman over to her couch. She lowered Widowmaker down slowly, doing her best not to jar her injured left side as she did. Widowmaker, for her part, nearly fell onto the couch, and seemed to have no major inclination to shift once she’d attained a stable position.
Lena took once glance at the sniper and immediately rushed to the bathroom, where she kept a few of the nanobot packs that had saved her life and others on more than one occasions. If Widowmaker was this bad off, then time was of the essence.
Lena returned carrying not only the medkit, but a more run of the mill first aid kit and a pair of tweezers. Widowmaker was in the exact same position she’d left her in. Lena took that as a bad sign.
“Hey, you still awake?” she asked as she sat down next to the couch and began to pull out the things she’d need.
“Hey!” she said louder, and when that got no reply she started shaking the other woman’s shoulder vigorously. A faint groan greeted her actions.
“Alright, good. Least you ain’t dead yet. I need to pull the bullets outta you before the kit’ll do much good. I’ve got a shot of anesthetic for that bit. It’ll pinch, just hold still.
“No!”
A hand seized her arm, the grip so tight that it hurt.
“Do not numb me,” said Widowmaker, suddenly wide awake. Her eyes were wide and sharp… and terrified. “Do not,” she said again, squeezing Lena’s arm as she did so.
“I won’t. Promise,” Lena replied, keeping her eyes and voice steady, while inside she wondered.
Widowmaker held her grip for another moment, then released her. Lena rubbed at her wrist. There were fingerprints on her skin.
“Alright. No anesthetic. Sure. I’ve got a topical numbing agent here. Should I use that or would you rather we do without?” Lena asked.
Widowmaker considered for a moment, then there was the tiniest acquiescing nod. “Very well. But nothing more.”
“Absolutely,” Lena replied, trying to inject her voice with calm.
She worked in silence for a moment, applying the numbing gel to the site of both wounds. She could feel Widowmaker tensing her muscles beneath her hands, as though trying to resist the chemicals effects. Lena gave the cream 15 minutes to set in before she moved in with the tweezers.
“Alright, this is gonna hurt. Be ready,” she said. She felt Widowmaker pulling her muscles taught in preparation. Then Lena made her move.
2 minutes later there were two metal slugs laying on the floor next to her and she was pressing the medkit into Widowmaker’s side, feeling some small amount of relaxation flow into the tense body beneath as the nanobots began to go to work.
“Well, that’s all I can do for now,” Lena said, standing up and dusting off her hands in a theatrical manner.
“You shouldn’t have even done this,” Widowmaker replied.
“A simple thank you would’ve done just fine too love,” Lena shot back, then headed for the kitchen to wash up. “You want a cup of tea? Breaking into secret bases, being shot at, having minor surgery performed on you, it must be pretty thirsty work.”
She received no reply.
Shrugging to herself, she finished washing her hands and set the kettle to boil on her still slightly charred stove.
Waiting for the water to finish heating up, she ducked back into the living room for a moment to examine her unexpected guest, and was a bit surprised by what she saw.
Widowmaker was staring raptly at the little tree she’d set up in one corner of the room.
It wasn’t much, wasn’t even a real tree. She’d bought it at the supermarket on an impulse two weeks before and had been genuinely surprised with how nice it’d been to decorate it. She hadn’t had a Christmas tree since… God, since before Overwatch fell. It’d been nice to think back to those times. They hadn’t been simple, not by any means, but they’d been happy.
Widowmaker seemed transfixed by it. Her golden eyes reflected the few strings of lights Lena had wrapped around it, and it was only then that Lena realized the sniper had removed her fractured helmet and placed it on the floor next to her. Without it her face looked more open. Softer.
Or maybe that was just because of the tree.
Lena snuck back around the corner into the kitchen, the expression on the sniper’s face occupying her mind.
Because she barely looked like the woman she had fought on a rooftop overlooking the Row while Mondatta lay dead in the street.
She looked new.
As soon as the kettle whistled, Lena pulled it off the stove and poured water into two mugs, throwing a mint tea bag into each and carrying them with her back into the living room. By the time she got there Widowmaker’s attention was off the tree and onto her. But she wondered.
“Here you go,” she said, handing one of the mugs to her surprise guest. “You didn’t say whether you wanted or not so I just made one for you. It’s mint. Figured that would be a pretty safe bet.”
“Merci,” replied the sniper. She took a tentative sip. Apparently, finding it to her liking, she took another drink a moment later.
“It would appear you cannot burn tea then,” said the sniper. Lena could practically feel her smiling behind her mug.
“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?” Lena asked indignantly.
“It means I see a rather large amount of scorching in your kitchen. So unless an arsonist was at work in there, I would guess that you burned something. Rather impressively too.”
“Shut up,” Lena replied, but there was no heat in the words. Somehow, it didn’t feel like a real insult. More like banter, the easy raport shared by friends, even though that wasn’t even remotely close to what they were.
Lena took a sip of her tea. “That pack’s gonna take a bit to work,” she said as a way of testing the waters.
“I had come to a similar conclusion,” Widowmaker replied. She smiled sharply. “It seems you are stuck with me chérie, at least for now.”
“Or you’re stuck with me,” Lena fired back, a smile of her own already in place. “You mind if I ask a question while we’re waiting then?”
Widowmaker shrugged, but made no other reply. Lena forged ahead.
“Why’d you pick today? I’m not gonna ask what you were trying to steal, figure you’d never tell me that so why waste the time. But why’d you try and steal whatever it was today? I mean, it’s Christmas! Don’t evil criminal organizations give holiday leave?”
Widowmaker’s smile faded. “No,” she said. “They do not give holiday leave.” The next part came out quieter. “At least not to me.”
She continued at a more normal volume. “I was instructed to carry out this mission on today’s date specifically because of its significance. Talon believed that any major opposition would either be tied up in their celebrations or be off balance and complacent because of the general spirit of the day. They thought it would make the job that much easier. They did not count on you.”
Lena gave a rough smile. “Yeah well, I didn’t have much in the way of plans. Meant to visit one person later on but this interrupted. Otherwise it was just me.”
Widowmaker’s brow furrowed. “No visiting family? Or friends?”
“Don’t have much left of either if I’m honest. Lost my parents during the last days of the Crisis. Bounced around in foster homes till I was 16. Then I lied about my age and joined the RAF.”
The sniper arched an eyebrow. “A very daring feat for a teenager.”
Lena shrugged. “It was the only thing I had left in my life. I’d dreamed of flying forever. Home was shit, school was shit, only thing I had left to hang onto was that dream. And I got it.” She smiled nostalgically. “The RAF was some of the best years of my life. It was the first time I felt like I had a real family. Then I got called into Overwatch. Everything changed after that.”
“The Slipstream,” Widowmaker said. Lena’s head jerked upright.
“Oh, so you lot know about that then. I’d wondered.” She sighed. “Yeah. The Slipstream. I’d… really rather not talk about that.”
Widowmaker made no comment. After a moment, Lena continued.
“After that, well, I was in Overwatch. They were my family. Then that got torn apart too. We’re scattered all over now, those of us who aren’t dead. I haven’t seen most of ‘em in a long time. I miss them.”
Lena remained silent, staring at the ground, lost in her memories. “But yeah. Not much in the way of family or friends. Just me.”
Widowmaker said nothing. Merely watched her. Lena was glad that the sniper hadn’t tried to say she was sorry. It always came out sounding so fake when people did that.
“What about you?” Lena asked. “You have any plans before this? Anyone to go visit?”
She could swear she felt the temperature in the room drop 10 degrees at the question. The former… well maybe not peace, but at least passivity, shattered. Lena could see it in Widowmaker’s face. Could see the walls going up.
“Forget I asked. Sorry,” Lena said. She wasn’t here to force information out of the sniper, and from that reaction it wasn’t just a sore subject, it was an open wound.
“Hey, you were wondering about the kitchen right?” Lena asked, hoping to switch the conversation to something less painful. “Well, this isn’t the first time I’ve burnt the hell out of it. I’ve been informed by just about everyone I’ve ever known that when I try and cook something the first thing they do is call the fire department. It’s not my fault I swear! It just sorta… happens.”
“What were you trying to make this time?” asked Widowmaker. There was a smile quirking at her lip, though she appeared to be doing her best to control it from blooming into a full grin. She was failing.
“A Christmas cake. I saw this fantastic recipe online and I just had to give it a shot.” Lena rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. “Turns out that shot was taken with a flare gun.”
Widowmaker let out a small chuckle. Lena gasped. “I didn’t think you had a sense of humor!”
“I have one, but it only shows when there is something funny. That would explain why none of your jokes or comments have ever worked.”
“Oi!” Lena cried, and gave her a light swat on the shoulder. Widowmaker took another sip of her tea, still smiling.
Silence fell, and the two enjoyed it, drinking tea in comfortable quiet.
Eventually though, it was Widowmaker who broke it. Her face was hard, sharp, all drawn lines and flat planes. Less of a face, more a picture. A wall. Perfectly composed, perfectly false. She appeared to have come to a decision.
“To answer your question, I am alone,” she said, her voice a quiet monotone. “No family left. No friends. I visit my husband’s grave every year. That is all. There is nothing left for me.”
There was silence.
“I’m sorry,” Lena said, and she hoped to god that Widowmaker could tell how much she meant it. The sniper gave no sign of hearing her, merely remained still and silent, her face made up and unchanging.
Statuesque.
“Why’d you tell me?” Lena asked a moment later. “You didn’t need to y’know. Why bother?”
Widowmaker shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Her voice dropped lower. “Maybe because nobody has ever bothered to ask.”
Without knowing what she was going to say, Lena opened her mouth to reply. She was saved from finding out what words would have come out by a quiet chime from the medkit. The nanobots had finished.
Lena peeled back the patch in silence, examining the now unbroken blue skin beneath it.
“Right, looks like you’re all healed up.” Lena tried for a smile, but there was something false in it. She really should’ve been happy to be getting rid of the sniper. Having a wanted criminal she’d shot at and been shot at by in return on multiple occasions sitting on her couch really shouldn’t have been something she was enjoying… but she had been.
She was sad to see her go.
Widowmaker reached a hand down to rub at the spots on her body that her torn suit laid bare. She nodded as her hands felt the smooth skin, as though content with what she was feeling.
“Thank you,” she said, turning her eyes, those lovely golden eyes, to meet Lena’s.
She might’ve been fooling herself, but Lena thought there was some melancholy in those eyes.
But that was probably wishful thinking.
Had to be.
“I guess there’s no reason for you to stick around then,” Lena said, turning her eyes off of those hypnotic golden irises.
“I suppose not,” replied Widowmaker.
Neither made any attempt to move.
“They’ll probably realize you’re gone right?” Lena asked, looking for something, anything, to force her to do what she knew needed to be done.
Widowmaker nodded.
Neither moved.
At long last, Lena stood. “I’ll walk you to the lobby, ok?” she asked.
Widowmaker smirked. “I suppose it’s the least you can do.”
“Yeah, after I saved your sorry ass.”
The sniper scoffed. “I would’ve been fine.”
Lena laughed. “Yeah, sure. Just keep telling yourself that love.”
The two retraced their steps.
Down the hall.
Into the elevator.
Down to the empty lobby.
To the doorway.
And then they stopped.
“Well then…” Lena said. She wasn’t sure what she was saying, or why. All she knew was that she wanted to extend the moment.
“I have a question, before we part ways,” Widowmaker said.
“Shoot.”
“Why didn’t you leave me?” she asked. Her eyes stared unflinchingly into Lena’s. “You could have. No one would have known. It would be one less enemy to fight, and no one could blame you. So why didn’t you?”
Lena thought. Then realized she already knew the answer. “Truth be told, leaving you there never even crossed my mind. Guess you were right. My moral code wouldn’t allow it.”
She tried for a smile. She wasn’t sure what it ended up looking like.
Widowmaker returned it all the same.
Still smiling, Widowmaker pointed up at the top of the doorway they stood under. Lena’s eyes had enough time to observe a small burst of white and green pinned to the frame, before a pair of cool blue lips met hers and all rational thought ceased as the other woman followed the laws of mistletoe.
An eternity later they parted. Lena opened eyes that she hadn’t realized she’d closed, examining the cold blue face as though she’d never seen it before.
“Why?” she asked.
Widowmaker shrugged. “Payment? You did save my life.”
“Won’t catch me complaining,” Lena replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Widowmaker smiled gently.
“Adieu chérie,” she said, and then descended the few steps to the street and disappeared into the night.
Lena stood in the cold and watched her retreating form, and when she could no longer see her she remained watching the space where the sniper had been. Only when her fingers began to gently numb at the tips did she finally return inside and go back to her apartment.
She could still feel those cool blue lips on her own.
And Widowmaker, as she walked back to the old base to retrieve her rife, could still feel Lena’s warm mouth on her own.
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I’ve said it before, I will say it again. This is amazing, you are amazing, I love you and I love this! IT’S SO GOOOOOOD!!!!
tried a new style! secret santa for @paradoxmage117 frm the widowtracer discord server :3
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Midnight Revelations Ch. 4
They are waiting, as they always are, and they have questions, as they always do.
The meetings don’t tend to change, they simply shift subtly.
Sometimes the soldier makes a remark. Sometimes the doctor interjects.
Sometimes they ask about the past, sometimes the future.
They do this dance again and again, going through the motions with the steps just slightly tweaked.
She wonders what they will ask of her today.
“Amélie,” starts the gorilla. He always starts things, apparently holding some kind of tacit leadership position. Sometimes it seems like he’s rather uncomfortable with his role, but from what she’s seen he appears to be holding things together well enough.
“We have some questions about certain personnel you may have encountered in the course of your time in Talon. If you don’t mind, we have some images to show you and we’d like you to tell us anything you know about the persons involved.”
“Very well,” she says. In truth, she is glad of the change. In the last few days Overwatch has examined much of her past, having her recollect things she’d rather keep buried. Something as simple as looking at a few pictures is a welcome relief.
Winston swipes a hand across a datapad lying on the table in front of him, and a face appears
hovering in the air between them. Amélie recognizes it immediately and can’t stop herself from smiling slightly.
“She would not be happy to know you have this photo. She treasures her secrecy above all else.” Amélie looks at the slightly blurry picture of Sombra, clearly caught by a helmet mounted camera while at high speed. Nevertheless her image is unmistakable. For someone who so emphasizes stealth, Amélie has always found her love of fluorescent purple and pink to be a bit counterproductive.
“So you recognize her?” Winston asks.
“Of course,” she replies. “Her name, or at least the name she goes by, is Sombra. If she ever had another then she chose not to share it with me.”
“What do you know about her?”
“Not as much as you might hope or expect,” answers Amélie. “I know that she is a hacker, a thief who trades in information and data. She specializes in stealth technology and has strong ties to Los Muertos in Dorado. I’m sure none of this is news to you.”
Winston nods.
Amélie smiles. “Something you may not have known is that as often as Sombra worked for Talon she was stealing from them.”
Winston sits forward in his chair. 76 splutters in an outraged manner. The doctor watches carefully, as do Amari and the omnic.
“What do you mean? Are you certain?” Winston asks, clearly not fully believing her yet.
“I am absolutely sure. She showed me some of the data she stole on certain occasions. Sometimes it pertained to me.” Amélie smiles, the smile of a predator, and she knows it. “Sombra has no loyalty except to herself, and she works for no one unless she has something to gain. Talon trusted her, like the fools they are.”
Winston doesn’t seem to know what to say. Amélie never thought she’d ever have the chance to see a gorilla gobsmacked, but apparently she was mistaken.
After a moment, a question seems to occur to him, and he reaffixes his gaze on her.
“Do you think she’d work with us?” he asks, and the question takes her so off guard that she thinks she probably looks like Winston did only a moment before.
“I…” she starts, but the sentence dies in her throat. Would Sombra work with Overwatch? Even though Amélie thinks of her as a friend, and she would like to believe Sombra thinks the same of her, in truth there is much she doesn’t know about the other woman. Sombra is a liar, a thief, a charlatan, a puppeteer, but in her own way she is strangely moral. The incident with the Lúmerico CEO stinks of her work, and the entire goal was to bring a corrupt man to justice, even if he ended up being exonerated.
So the question remains. Would Sombra work with Overwatch?
“Honestly? I do not know,” she says. “Sombra is, and always has been, her own person. I think the only way any of us would ever know would be to ask her. Either she’d laugh in your face or take you up on it.”
‘Or quite possible both, knowing her,’ she thinks, and smiles a little.
“Hmm. Very well. Thank you.” Winston makes another motion on his datapad and a new face appears. This one is also familiar, but for worse reasons most assuredly.
“That is Reaper,” she says quietly, staring at the haze of black smoke billowing from the thick coat and from behind the owl-ish mask. There are not many things in life that scare her, but he is one of them.
“Yes,” says Winston. “It is. Can you tell us anything more?”
Amélie shakes her head. “I did my best to avoid him as much as possible. I thought it too dangerous. Whatever he was, I’m not sure how much of him is still human. I found it best to keep my distance.”
76 shifts in his seat, muttering under his breath. Amélie only catches snatches. “Traitor,” “Better off dead,” “Murderer.” She pretends not to hear, though she files the information carefully away.
Winston doesn’t appear to have noticed the soldiers comments, preoccupied with what she has told him of her experience with Reaper. He doesn’t appear particularly happy with her answers, or lack thereof, but he moves on without comment. Another swipe, and a new face appears.
It is familiar as well. Unpleasantly so.
“Akande Ogundimu,” she says. “Doomfist.”
Winston looks rather resigned, as though he was expecting that answer.
“You know him then.” It is not a question.
Amélie nods. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Her mind flashes back. A meeting room with a shadowed figure examining her, assessing her, ordering her to be taken away. Looking into a pair of eyes that gleamed not with simple malice, but something much more terrifying. Intelligence. He was a maniac who believed his goals just, and was smart enough to achieve any task he set his mind to, with just enough cruelty to use any means necessary.
She has met him twice. It was enough.
Akande Ogundimu terrifies her.
She tells Winston so, adding in anything she can remember about him, his position in Talon, absolutely anything. When she is finished he seems pleased by the information. He examines her closely, as though trying to read her mind.
“Amélie, do you know of any recent events pertaining to Ogundimu?” he asks.
She shrugs. “The last news I had of him was that he had been taken into custody by Overwatch. By you.”
Winston shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Amélie feels the hairs prickling on the back of her neck. Something is wrong.
“Akande Ogundimu escaped from a maximum security installation run by Helix Security two weeks ago. We have had no news of his whereabouts since.”
Her blood freezes. She has met people so horrible that they almost cease to be human, but Doomfist is one of the worst. He is strong enough to take what he wants and smart enough to use it to the destruction of all who stand in his way.
“Merde,” she says quietly. She isn’t sure if Winston heard, but she thinks he’d be inclined to agree regardless. After all, he fought the man, hand to hand. Winston knew exactly what Doomfist was like.
“I’m guessing you didn’t know about this,” Winston says.
She nods weakly. “If I had known…”
‘I would have been terrified and that is all. There is nothing I could have done,’ she thinks.
The thought dies unsaid, and an uneasy silence fills the room.
After a moment, Winston coughs into his hand.
“Do you mind if we continue?” he asks.
Amélie nods.
He slides a hand along the data pad and a new picture is revealed.
Amélie freezes.
It is the face of her nightmares.
Through the pain and the treatments and every single review and calibration, she was there, a demon with her hands wrapped around Amélie’s neck, keeping her under her thumb.
“It’s her,” she says, voice barely clearing a whisper, and the words bring cold silence from the rest of the room.
“You know her?”
It is the doctor now, and there is an edge to her voice, something that is a next-door neighbor to fear and nearly lifts the blonde woman from her seat with the strength of it.
“How do you know her?” she asks. “How?”
She can feel herself shaking, tremors running through her in unceasing waves. “She’s the doctor,” she says, and her lips are starting to numb with cold. Her teeth chatter. When did the room become freezing?
“She is the one who did this to me.”
If uproar had an inverse, this would be it. The room fills with a silence full of unspoken shouting and cries of outrage that are all too silent.
She notices all this in the background of her mind. The majority of her is too busy focusing on the cold leaking into her limbs, stealing the feeling from her fingers.
Then her hands.
Then her arms.
Then her legs.
She feels herself collapse, but it’s far away, kept distant by the cold filling her up, cutting her off from sensation and emotion.
She hears shouting now, feels the ghosts of hands lifting her, as the cold creeps up her torso, past her neck, and into her mind.
And then there is nothing.
Ao3 Page
Ko-Fi
Midnight Messages
#MyWork#Fanfic#Fanfiction#Overwatch#overwatch fanfic#Widowtracer#widowmaker#Midnight Messages#Midnight Revelations
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this is SO dumb but take it. the idea just decided to eat my brain
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