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willboland · 7 days

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A dumb little thing about who i think the f1 boys would main in overwatch based on my own perception of the idiots.

Max - Absolutely the annoying Genji main who spams I need healing but will also get a 5 stack on his own when he's on crit bc he's just that good.

Sergio - Mercy bc he'd just pocket Max all game and heal NO ONE else and get angry messages from the rest of the team about him not healing them. There's two healers for a reason in his eyes.

Carlos - Reinhardt but he's very chaotic and charges in swinging his hammer on his own and then kicks off when he immediately dies.

Charles - He'd play Echo and always flank the enemy healers when they were out of position so the rest of his squad can capitalise on capturing the point.

Lewis - Sombra bc he loves hacking everyone and pissing them off and then just yeeting out of there with his translocator. Absolutely stands invisible next to the enemy team spamming boop

George - He'd be that annoying Lucio that just wall rides everywhere and boops everyone off the side of the map and then do the dj emote he paid 8 quid for.

Lando - Widowmaker for sure. He's got a really good shot on him and would terrorise the poor enemy Mercy and snipe them out of spawn all the time.

Oscar - Junker Queen. Half bc she's an aussie and half bc no one else will play a tank. He only hopped on the game one time with Lando and now he's 400 hours deep.

Daniel - I think he'd like Orisa. He's definitely played a few different tanks bc he hates playing healer and Lando and Max would always hog the dps roles.

Yuki - Definitely DVA. He loves getting play of the game with his DVA bombs that he definitely just yeets into the enemy team and hopes to get a few kills.

Kevin - Torbjorn. He'd run around with his little hammer trolling his team and the enemy team and get no kills himself whilst his turret has 100.

Nico - Moira but a dps Moira. He hates playing healer but its the only role left so he picks the most dps healer and is a nightmare. Gets the most kills on the team and has 800 healing in a 10 minute match.

Esteban - Wrecking ball. He's actually good at him too but will still just swing around a point and keep hitting the enemy team off to stop them contesting.

Pierre - A really REALLY good Tracer. He jumps around everywhere and knows exactly which target to go for and when to back out and use his recall.

Zhou - Life weaver bc he isn't the best at aiming and wants to help the best he can so he plays healer. He's pretty good at prioritising his tank and other healer and lets the dps just do what they usually do.

Valtteri - Symmetra. Definitely spams the sentries outside of spawn so the squishes will just instantly die and the team gets staggered. Actually pretty good and skilled with her.

Lance - Junkrat bc he's annoying af and he loves just standing behind a wall spamming his bombs into the air in the hopes he might kill someone. Would only end up with like 3 kills too.

Fernando - Mauga. Man's a machine and so is Fernando. You know he loves terrorising tf out of the enemy team with his massive machine guns.

Alex - Reaper main through and through. He's really good too which makes it even more annoying bc he can wipe a full team on his own if he really tries. Definitely in a mini war with Max to get the most kills in a game.

Logan - Soldier 76 sorry not sorry. He's not very good at OW and is more of a COD boy so picks the most generic easy to play hero he can.

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wind-becomes-lightning · 1 year

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Obito and I

Ok this is so so silly and I've had the idea a while ago and just thought fuck it I'm going to do it for Obito week. yeah Uh, I don't know how to explain it.

Uchiha Obito and uh, me I guess

Rated G.

3178 words

Ao3 Link [x]

for @obito-week: always watching & free spot.

One afternoon Uchiha Obito appears in my room. [..] The man is all an Obito has to be, tall, broad, black haired, facial scars, weird eggplant coloured coat and all. He seems almost as shocked to see me as I am to see him. As if I’m also a figure that has just jumped out of a story book.

One afternoon Uchiha Obito appears in my room.

I just finished a philosophy session on the toilet, head full of ideas about where I could take my afternoon nap as I hear a little sound not unlike a big piece of plastic being sucked up into a vacuum cleaner.

“The neighbours are at it again”, I curse to myself as I pull up the sweats I should have changed three days ago. There is still this white stain on it from where I dropped toothpaste and each time I see it I remind myself that I have to wash it, but I never do.

I feel grumpy as I walk back into the bedroom and almost drop my phone when there is Obito standing in front of me.

“Obito!” I almost yell.

The man is all an Obito has to be, tall, broad, black haired, facial scars, weird eggplant coloured coat and all. He seems almost as shocked to see me as I am to see him. As if I’m also a figure that has just jumped out of a story book.

With a shaking finger that has exceptionally perfectly applied violet nail polish on it that makes me wonder for a moment when the hell he has learned that and why the hell he can do it much better than me, he points at the pictures on my wall. His mouth opens and closes and then opens again.

“Why?” It's the only thing that he seems to have the ability to say.

I follow his eyes to the art print he is pointing at, an especially great fanart that I once got during a request event. Obito is on it, hair dripping with water, tongue out and aimed at Kakashi in front of him, they are both half naked. An artwork I truly cherish, the first time I jumped up and down in my - this- room in the morning after some amazing artist fulfilled the art wishes that I could never fulfil myself.

Still, I must admit, that must be really weird to see for someone like Obito. I almost feel ashamed that he has to see something so private not only to myself but himself, as if I was a paparazzi taking pictures of him against his will. Half naked and with his best frenemy and all.

I shrug. “I like the ship.” I don’t know what else to tell him.

Maybe he thinks I’m mad. Probably he thinks I’m mad. Quite likely he thinks I’m mad. His eyes harden, the rinnegan in its incredibly unnatural colour peers into me. His mouth forms the word “ship”, but he lets his finger sink.

I wonder if this would be the right time to ask him. I step from one foot to another with insecurity. My hands feel sweaty. Well, it is not any day that a character from a book suddenly appears in front of you. This isn’t Inkheart. I didn’t read him into existence. Or did I? Who knows, maybe sitting on the toilet and thinking of naps triggered this sort of thing.

“Why are you in my bedroom?”. I finally find my courage.

Obito stares as if it is an outrageous question. Then his face frowns and he waves frantically: “I just materialised here. I don’t even know where I am, who you are and why you have pictures of me hanging on your wall.”

I can’t help but be flattered. My own drawings of him are good enough to make him think they are pictures. Inside I'm giddy. I can’t wait to tell my tumblr friends about this.

“Are you stalking me?” He says, pointing again, another art with him and Kakashi, just that Yamato is with them too. A collaborative art I made with two of my tumblr friends that I am also personally very proud of. “That’s really creepy you know?!”

“Takes one to know one.” I have no mercy.

He clearly isn’t pleased. He steps away from my wall and inspects the computer in front of it. I assume he has never seen a computer before, especially not one with a double screen and light up keyboard and mouse setup like any good Sims gamer should have.

He rubs his chin.

“Electricity!”

“It sure is,” I say and feel like I’m talking to one of my dead grandparents.

“Electricity - good. Electricity - works - maybe.” He is thinking obviously, but apparently that has made his brain go back into caveman mode.

Caveman mode. I chuckle to myself.

“Bring me back!” he points at me again. “Whatever you did to get me here, make it go away.”

“I did not bring you here,” I shrug my shoulders again. “I don’t know where you were and how you got here, I just came here and you were there. Maybe you made a kamui mistake.”

I wonder if kamui was always connected to my bedroom and then my next thought is, if kamui was always connected to my bedroom, why didn’t Kakashi come through? I agree with myself that it would have been more fair if Kakashi had come through.

“How do you know about Kamui?!” He seems genuinely offended.

Well, there is nothing but forward, I think and let out a deep sigh. Having to have this conversation really wasn’t what I thought I would be doing when I got up in the morning. All I can do now is hope he takes the truth well enough not to jump at me. Even without his powers, Obito could probably crush me.

And while there were times in which I have declared on the internet that I want him to crush me, I would rather not right now. Especially not if there are pancakes for dinner.

“You are a fictional character, my man.” I say and pick up the Kakashi pillow on my bed and shake it a little. “From a book, you know? This is merchandise. I’m a fan.” I wave to the pictures and wiggle with the pillow again.

A moment passes, then another. Both of Obito’s eyes are focused on my fluffy Kakashi pillow, a vein on his head pulsing dangerously.

“Fictional?” he grumbles, his hand in a fist.

I prepare myself to get crushed afterall. At least I would die with my head in his titties, which is, I decide, not so bad of a death. “Yes, fictional.”

He turns around and punches into my wooden desk so hard that the keyboard loses most of its keys and my graphic tablet tumbles down to the floor with a crash.

Probably that means he isn’t taking it very well, I think to myself.

Obito can’t read books that are not written in Japanese I realise as I hand him the few light novels I have of the Naruto franchise. None have the manga pictures, but I have to assemble my keyboard again first before I can turn on my computer to show the manga to him.

Truly, I should have known that Obito can’t read English or German, why the hell would a character that was by all means made up by a Japanese man be able to read that? But then again I can communicate with him well enough without needing subtitles. This is all very strange.

“My name!” he yells and points at the page that he holds open. So he can read his own name. I feel like a proud mother. “Am I in this story too?”

Lazily I take the book from him. “No, sorry to tell you that you are dead.”

His eyes go so wide that I fear another punch is coming so I say: “But in the heart of many of us fans you are always alive.” How cringe, but it is the truth.

“Are you stalking Kakashi even more than me?” Obito picks up the figure I have on my desk of Kakashi in his Anbu uniform and then also picks up my pillow from my bed weighing them both up and down.

He seems surprisingly intrigued by the way Kakashi’s muscles are shown on the figure.

“I like him the most,” I say. “He is my favourite character.”

Instinctively I hold my hand out to save my precious figure from slipping out of Obito’s hands. He already looks angry again, as if I have personally hurt him by having a character I would like more than him.

Well, people with the best taste in ships, like me, have always known that Obito secretly is obsessed with Kakashi. After all that was the entire point of the story (I like having my own delusions.)

Finally I get my shit together and turn on the computer. My wallpaper is a rotation of many different wallpapers, but of course this moment that Obito sits right beside me the rotation choses a picture of him with Team Minato as a kid. I quickly open a browser window to hide it, but he has already seen it.

“I don’t remember we ever took a picture like this together,” he says with a frown.

Right, he thinks the fanart are “pictures” of him. “It’s just art,” I say dismissively. “It’s not canon.”

His eyes narrow.

“Ta-da!” I say and present him the coloured version of the Naruto manga.

Obito stares at the pages as I scroll around, not trusting him to know how the mouse works. I know that Konoha will eventually get computers too, but only after Obito’s death and even if they already had them, I wouldn’t trust his violent urges.

He stares as I scroll and scroll. Then finally, as if it took him 10 chapters to realise as much, he says: “Wait, I’m not the main character?”

The news that he is nothing more than a side character in his own life comes hard to Obito. I empathise with him, I too have severe main character syndrome while being an extra at best. Maybe that is why he finally stops looking so angry at me each time I say something. Trauma bonding over your insignificance.

“And you… like this story?” Obito says and he sounds as if it makes no sense to him that anyone would like a narrative in which he isn’t the main character.

I shrug, which I feel I have done a lot in the last few hours: “It has its moments.”

His eyes wander over the several pieces of memorabilia and fanart I have scattered around my bedroom and he nods his head. “You seem obsessed,” he notes.

“There are people worse than me,” I clarify, because I don’t want to accept the very real assessment that nonetheless makes me look bad. “At least I don’t use bots to vote in a popularity poll that literally doesn’t matter or send anon hate.

Obito blinks at me and the wheels behind his eyes are turning. I push his chair away from the desk so I can sit in front of my computer again and he just lets it happen. Surely the world he is from has chairs with wheels, I think to myself, or maybe Obito really had never seen anything but the inside of his cave.

He shakes his head in disbelief. “So there are more of you?”

“More of me?” I can’t shadow clone in this world, I think.

“People who enjoy these… drawings.” Obito snaps with his finger in the direction of the computer screen.

I laugh. I can’t help it. “God yes” I say and hold my stomach. “Millions. It is very popular actually, one could argue that it is one of if not the most famous shonen manga that has ever been popular. Not only Japan though, that is also in the west.”

His nose crinkles and I can feel another anger outburst incoming so I pick up my keyboard and hold it over the desk just so I don’t have to play puzzle all over again now that I have it put back together.

“And you all,” he waved with his finger, “are Kakashi stalkers?”

“Oh no, many are also your stalkers.” I reply and to prove it to him I open tumblr and push the screen into his face.

“See? There are entire blogs that are dedicated to you. Personally, I think their hot takes can be a little weird, because in my head canon the reason for your personality shift is a deep rooted delusion with the world that is later fixed by giving you someone to believe in in Naruto and on top of that you are changed by the trust that Kakashi puts in you, a trust that you craved as a child but never got until the very end. Generally people hate the redemption through death type of storyline, but I feel like a self sacrifice fits you very well, at least from what you know before you lost yourself to the personality of Madara.”

His jaw swings open. I realise that I won’t ever convince him that I am not in fact obsessed if I keep talking like an obsessed person.

I add: “Uh, that’s just literary analysis though, I don’t know you personally.”

“Roll the tiny wheel,” Obito says and I assume he means to force me to scroll.

Like always, tumblr does not disappoint and it takes me about 1.06 minutes to find a picture in which Obito is shirtless and posing. I blink looking at the thickness of his thighs and the large man titties showing on his chest. The artist was kind enough to put at least five fire emojis as a caption. I unashamedly press the like button.

“Who took that picture?” Obito says, outraged. “That is an invasion of privacy!”

I laugh. “Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t see that this is a drawing. You don’t look like this.” I gesture at his body form.

Obito takes the mouse from me and I have to hold on to the cable so he doesn’t rip it out. He scrolls on. There are so many half naked pictures of him that have him posing or crying and I am very unhappy about my loss of mouse privileges because that means I can’t like them all to keep them for later.

“These people,” he gestures, “when they draw me like this. That means they like me?”

Now his eyes suddenly shine bright as if he is a kid again. It is very cute, though a little concerning that the prospect of someone really liking him makes him so very happy.

“Oh yes, they want to jump your bones.” I avoid mentioning that I am one of those people that generally wants to jump his bones. “They think you are hot shit.”

For the first time since he has literally appeared in my room Obito smiles with satisfaction. Then he moves the mouse and scrolls on to another fanart of him and Kakashi kissing. His eyes stay frozen on it, then he picks up the mouse and throws it against my screen.

Legs pressed against his body Obito sits on the floor in front of the door to my balcony. My monitor is not damaged and neither is my mouse I realise with relief while he murmurs behind me.

“People just like the ship,” I try to explain. “They are usually not that serious about it. It is all in good fun.” I weigh my head. “Well unless it is on twitter because that’s just a warzone.”

I sit down next to him and can’t believe the absurdity of the situation. There he is, Uchiha Obito, the pride of the Uchiha clan, or, well the pride of Uchiha Madara, or well more like… the victim of Uchiha Madara’s pride of the Uchiha clan, and is gloomy because people in a world he doesn’t inhabit think he and his best frenemy also sometimes kissed. Truly the weirdest of turns of events.

“Sometimes you say such weird things.” Obito says into his knees. “I don’t even know what you mean.” He looks up at me. “I wonder if your definition of ship is different from mine.”

Probably not, I think, but probably yes at the same time. “You see, when people like two fictional characters that they think have chemistry, they often want them to end up together in the safe harbour of love. So we call it shipping.” I make it up on the spot and feel very confident that my explanation is correct. “Giving characters a happy ending is just very fulfilling. Or giving them a sad ending. Or first we hurt them then we make them happy. Or just making them suffer for love… everything really.”

“But Kakashi?”

“You have chemistry.” Undeniably.

“All we do is fight!” He looks at me from the side.

“Like I said,” I repeat, “You have chemistry.”

Obito sits up straight against the window of my balcony door. He puffs out his chest. “No, we really don’t.” He says it as if it was a fact. “You and that.. that art person are just the weird ones. I’m sure those that really like me would never think something as outrageous.”

“Maybe,” I say and shrug, “but it is very popular.”

—

I feel like a teacher in the following hour as I explain to Obito what Ao3 is, how it works, how to search for something and how it clearly shows that one of the most popular ships have him and Kakashi paired up. Clearly, I am not the weirdo here in this world and I want him to accept that.

While he keeps scrolling on, now much more gentle with the mouse, I sit on my bed and turn pages in a book that I’m pretending to read while I watch him closely.

Sometimes he sighs. “That’s not true” or “I would not say that” or “That’s disgusting” and I have to hold myself back to stand behind him to see what things warrant such reactions.

“These people”, he gestures to the monitor, “all know so much about my life. More than I have ever told anyone.”

I sigh and turn a page in my book I’m not reading. “That is because we all know your story.”

“Because I am a fictional character.” Obito sounded exasperated.

“Because you are a fictional character,” I confirm.

“But thi-, this is like you are watching me at all times,” he whines and waves with his arms again. “Like every little of my interactions with others is analysed and turned into writing. I feel rather violated.”

I would apologise for the fandom, but it is not like we were aware that Obito would be a sentient being that could appear out of the story at the blink of an eye as if inkheart was real. I can’t help but feel sorry for him though, this day was a lot to take in. “I guess we should eventually find out how to get you back where you belong.” But for that I first need to find out how he got to me of all people.

bonus doodles that a friend made while I was reading the story to them: