morscordiss

[morscordiss]

Homestuck pilot.

Feeling like this rn

[morscordiss]

Ramattra daki on its way. Losing mind

[morscordiss]

Perish / Parish | Chapter Five, The Crux

Previous Chapter: Chapter Four, Brotherhood

Next Chapter: Coming soon!

Word Count: 2.7k

Reading time: roughly 10 minutes

Synopsis: You finally start repairing the railgun shot on Ramattra! While this happens, Sojourn talks with Jack Morrison about her intuition. Ramattra and the reader get more comfortable talking to each other, (finally, just took about 10k words.) and Ramattra finally starts opening up to you about details of the Monastery life he had before.

Authors Note: hello! Sorry for the very late chapter I had every single social obligation happen all in one week along with my niece being born! A gap between chapters like this shouldn’t happen unless I have very severe writers block. While I am writing this, I have just played 10 hours of D&D and made cookies and food for all of them. Very happy to have this up! Also, after doing more research on monks and Buddhism; Ramattra’s character gets another layer of tragic on top of the currently existing one.

edit notes: fixed minor issues. added bold & itallics. 5 days later and I didn’t even realize I spelt the name of my own fic wrong </3

  It was a beautiful start to a new day, you slept like a rock and felt energized for once. The weight of the previous day’s work still left you a bit sore, but it was manageable.

Everything was slowly coming back to you as you started your routine, the Null Sector attack on New Queens Street, the broken R-7000 on your back doorstep, repairing his faceplate and the servos in his hands and shoulders, the awful gunshot through his chassis, and the odd monk from yesterday.

You finally began to process this all, slowly but surely on the sixth day.

This was all so incredibly fucked.

But, that all needed to wait. You weren’t aware of how long Ramattra’s systems could handle his coolant fluid pooling in his chest— and you didn’t want to find out. Most omnics wouldn't have lasted for so long…

But Ramattra was built for a reason.

Ramattra was a machine forged in the pits of Anubis’s omnium to wage war. Every part of his nature other than the soul gifted by Aurora was made to dismantle, destroy, and control.

But that wasn’t all that he was, just as not every omnic’s personality matches what their purpose was originally for.

Ramattra used to be a monk and is now a revolutionary. That’s all you know…

This man has been in your home for six whole days and that’s all you know.

It feels nearly invasive living with someone after so long being content by yourself. It’d probably be good for you— if circumstances were better. Maybe they will one day.

You should probably go talk to Ramattra and make sure he’s ready for the long day of repairs ahead of him.

…

   Ramattra had finally begun to grow restless.

Maybe it was because Zenyatta confirmed that Overwatch believed he was still in the area. That must be the reason why he’s gotten so fraught.

Or was it because he was finding himself enjoying human connection and interaction? He was willingly putting himself into this mechanic's hands and was accepting this happenstance.

In some ways. Zenyatta was correct, he could’ve left by now and easily fixed himself up on his ship. It would have been more of a hassle, but he was used to these unforeseen and unfortunate circumstances before— and he’s almost always alluded his consequences.

But why hadn’t he left yet? Was it the amenity of being cared for by someone else? Or was it just the weight of his unending responsibility finally being lifted even just for a negligible amount of time?

He could be growing soft, his mind now malleable to such comforts— a human peer and running away from his responsibilities was not like him.

Why wasn’t he feeling like himself? 

Maybe it was his way of adapting to the situation before him…

Hopefully, that is the cause.

…

   You both ran into each other in the shop,

And even better, you both wanted to start on diagnostics!

Time flows by quickly as Ramattra sits up on the still dented pseudo-medical table you had set up for patients- but this time a sheet was draped over the dents

Hospitality made everyone feel a bit better— and so did professionalism.

Your dexterous fingers snaked through the waves of cabled hair to the base of his neck before plugging in a jack straight into your huge computer. Then, you've got to work!

Or at least tried to, now that he’d gotten more energy all of the data was encrypted.

Of course it would be.

“Mind letting me through here?”

“My apologies,”

“It’s fine— it’s probably good you have strong defenses.”

The sound was nearly snuffed out of the room— the only thing left was an uncomfortable silence before Ramattra shifted, and he turned his face to meet yours.

“That is incredibly blunt of you.”

You didn’t respond, instead, you took the scolding from him.

You really shouldn’t be getting so comfortable around him. It wouldn’t be illogical to assume that he hates you.

But if he truly did…

This relationship was born out of inequality and opportunity. You’re there to fix him so he can go off and continue whatever he does best.

Which will probably kill you.

Huh.

What did you get yourself into?

“My diagnostics have been up, are you paying attention?”

“My bad, I’ll get on it. Just out of it today, sorry.”

Maybe you should start treating him like what he is,

Dangerous and brimming with ambition.

Thankfully, your response was enough to quench his curiosity for now.

…

   “Vivian, I understand where you’re coming from but there’s no reason for the leader of Null Sector to still be here! He has no ship, no support, and from what you’ve described, barely any function left in him!”

Jack Morrison and Vivian Chase sat alone in an empty room at the New Queen’s Street police offices. It was just hitting noon, but the room was dark and cold, shades drawn and the door shut.

Before both of them, multiple maps lay— sprawled out with multiple different red and blue markings depicting different large cities all over the world. Old maps of Rio and Numbani found themselves on the floor.

“Jack, do you think that he wouldn’t take complete and total advantage of what our knowledge is right now?”

“Oh I would— if he didn’t have a hole bored through his chest, I could absolutely see him taking this opportunity.”

Morrison shook his head, his hand balled into a fist on the map in front of the two currently. Frustrated was a good word to describe Jack. Here was one of his top tacticians and officers completely overpowered by their passion.

Something he’s all too familiar with, and notoriously so.

“I just doubt from the kind of tactician he is that he’d just suddenly disappear from our radar after such an upset. We both know from experience that he can pop up, leave, and then show up when it benefits him most.”

“Vivian, you’re saying he showed up, tore half of New Queens’ to pieces, and then decided after his supply channels had been destroyed or found that instead of taking his losses— which he has done before, that he instead decided to bunker down?”

“I just— something is wrong here… It’s a gut feeling Morrison.”

“Look, you’re an amazing officer, Vivian, but I think this being your home is making you more paranoid. But I really can’t see what you’re suggesting to be the likely action.”

His word was final in all of this, but Vivian hoped that out of everyone, he’d be the one most likely to listen to her.

Guess she’ll just have to do it by herself.

“Yeah, I get it. Let’s move on to focusing on the next couple of cities then if you’re so sure.”

…

   Of course, nothing on Ramattra’s diagnostics surprised you.

There’s the hole in his chassis, mainly electrical damage and hardware damage other than the alloy melted. It should be pretty straightforward:

Drain the chassis, start on the hardware that’s destroyed, then slowly but surely fix the missing electrical work.

Because Ramattra has been cognizant, there’s no damage to his CPU, but there’s a close to a hundred-percent chance one of his many motherboards has been damaged. Obviously, power supply is an issue, so is coolant— If there was ever a fan there, it sure doesn’t exist anymore. 

This will take many delicate hours, and of course, when you’re finally feeling apprehensive you have to operate. Whatever, it’s just your luck.

And to bring even more joy to this occasion, Ramattra had to be awake so he could communicate with you.

Sometimes, omnics can catch when things fail faster than your computer can. This mainly helps you in not having to work backwards as much as you could traditionally.

Moreover, even with omnics being around for so long nobody has figured out a way, or shared a way to fix any serious injury without the omnic staying online.

“You know the drill by now, just talk to me so I know I’m doing something right— all information is good information.”

“Of course.”

“Great, I’ll go grab what I need, and then we’ll start. Get comfortable while I’m gone.”

Ramattra settled onto the examination table to the best of his abilities. Thankfully, the fluorescent lights above hadn’t been turned on yet. He could hear the sounds of rummaging, bins opening, and the mechanic muttering to themselves about everything they’d possibly need.

Soon, he’d have to lie under the hands of a human and actively communicate while deeply uncomfortable. The idea of it almost angered him— but this one hadn’t done anything inherently harmful.

If they wished to get rid of him, they had plenty of opportunities.

He’ll be fine. Just another nuisance to deal with.

Ramattra’s fans idly hummed and soon after the mechanic had finally come back, a rolling table full of equipment. 

A laser cutter, a sauter, an assortment of resistors—some thermistors immediately caught his eye, niobium capacitors, some magnetic amplifiers. His optics shifted to another section of the table which had a diagram of the 3D scan of his injury, machine guardings, cylinder barrels— most likely to correct the broken hydronic actuator the railgun shot had caused, and a rainbow assortment of wires along with three motherboards.

He’s impressed— albeit slightly violated, you had done good research.

“Finally got everything, I’ll let you know when and where I’m about to touch so you expect everything, got it?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Great. I’m gonna need you to open your chassis so I can start draining the access coolant— I got a vacuum right here.”

The mechanical hum of Ramattra’s chassis opening followed by some steam greeted you as you turned on the fluorescent lights above both of you before quickly adjusting them so they don’t blare into his optics.

It was interesting finally looking into his chest- wires, tubing, and all sorts of parts greeted you along with a quarter of his chassis full of some purple coolant— and since there’s none of this type of stuff on the market, he probably made it himself.

It probably runs through all of the Null Sector Units.

“Okay, I’m gonna get rid of the coolant in your chest cavity first, then after that I’d like you to choose a topic to talk about, then, talk for as long as you can.”

“Is that necessary? I can alert you when needed without it—“

Restraint strained Ramattra’s vocoder. He wasn’t completely against talking to you but in the middle of you fixing him was new.

The idea of him casually talking away as your hands dig into him was quickly thrown out of his imagination, too childish to be anything more than a daydream.

“It’s ideal if you can talk. I will find out if something’s wrong faster if you do, but I won’t force you to.”

“Well then, get on with it.”

You whisked the vacuum around the chest cavity, and everything broken or too loose to hold on was easily sucked away. Shortly after, only the melted remains of the blast and what mechanized gore was left.

“Awesome, I’m going to start with cutting off the melted alloy. Just talk about whatever.”

Shortly thereafter, a clamp connected to the plasma cutter was placed onto one of the ribs of his chassis. Then, you put down your safety glasses and slowly began, sparks flying out while the metal heated up from a deep red, to a blinding white— leaving behind a tint of blue on the heated alloy.

“One of my first days at the monastery, I was taught to sew my robes— it’s one of the things we needed to do during orientation.”

His voice was calming as you carefully traced the melted edges of the wound, slowly heating the metal while leaving a train of heat behind you. Soon the chassis plate would be completed, then you’d be able to move on to the exit wound on his back.

“You’re meant to chant while doing so, it’s all about dedicating ourselves to the three treasures; in an omnics’ case, it is the Iris, dharma, and sangha.”

The metal dropped into your gloved hand, a malformed doughnut ring still hot to the touch. You threw it into a bucket of water close to your seat before you moved on to the other hole.

“I broke many needles that day, and each needle only frustrated me further— each time my chanting would falter.”

You ushered him to a sitting upright position before hurriedly scooting the wheeled stool you sat on over to the side where his back was, quickly removing the clamp on the front of his chassis and adhering it to the back of his chassis. 

Soon enough, you carefully drag the gluegun-esc pen along the melted edges from the gunshot.

Ramattra continued recalling the story from years ago, his tone became somber,

“But, I was given as much time as I needed, Mondatta made sure of that.”

“Well, that and many needles.”

You chuckled, which made him continue; You’d gotten used to the material which made cutting easier. You were nearly done— a fourth of the circle remaining.

“I spent many hours chanting and trying to focus on what was ahead of me. I remember finishing with my robes and the sky had darkened.”

The alloy fell from its suspension, almost dropping back into his open chassis. But, before it fell you were able to skillfully grab it with some shop pliers. You once again dropped a ring into the bucket of water.

“Done, nice job. I’m gonna get some 3D scans of the leftovers and have my printers replicate them, while that’s going on I’m gonna test and see which lines are dead and what wires are live— sadly this’ll be the worst part.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll make sure you know when something I do should hurt though, so please continue talking and let me know if something feels wrong.”

Your hands fumbled with a small robot that quickly scanned the areas affected and compared it to Ramattra’s completely functional other half, making a blueprint, then a 3D image of the missing ribs before flying off to where Ramattra assumed you kept your fabricators.

“How much do you know about Buddhist beliefs?”

You launched yourself and your rolling stool back to your toolbox, opened a drawer labeled ‘Electric’, and grabbed a volt meter. Then, you ushered Ramattra back to lying down.

“Honestly? Probably not as much as I should. I understand the idea behind it though, light knowledge of some teachings.” 

“Do you want to know more about my beliefs?”

You hesitated for a bit— if you were in danger this would probably be the best way to find out.

If you weren’t, hopefully, you’d finally be able to learn more about your impromptu roommate.

“Yeah, I do.”

And Ramattra was delighted.

Finally, a helpful human for a change.

“Much of what I believe is still tied to the teachings that the monastery gave me, I no longer honor ahimsa— I owe no one a vow of nonviolence.”

You finally finished fumbling around with the volt meter, dipping your head back into Ramattra’s chassis, and finally taking it all in.

Not many Ravager units exist anymore. This is probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You hum in an acknowledgement while Ramattra speaks, any interval you make sure to nod your head as a sign of your listening. 

It’s pretty nice to listen to anything other than the hum of machinery while you work. Makes everything just a bit easier. 

“The concepts of liberation, an ever-changing sense of self, ignorance, and karma. There are many things that I learned there, but I believe that the real world had the most valuable tales of human nature that the walls of the monastery could not provide.”

You could only guess the number of wafer-thin circuits that were in his body. Must be miles of this stuff in him. That technical part of your brain buzzed with possibilities of specializations that an R-7000 could have, and you’ve had one in your home.

You could probably write a paper on the special features many omnics have— especially those made by God-programs.

“We are only a single-generation race, and we are dying all too quickly.”

But suddenly, Ramattra's statement lay heavy in the air as you finally stopped working. He spat out the end of his sentence, voice ripe with strife.

And you finally started to truly think about the world Ramattra had woken up to one fateful day, and the world he sees daily.

Cruel enough to take away the safety of innocents, and barbaric enough to steal the rare chance at life away from the rest.

“You’ve seen for yourself what happens to my kind when we resist, haven’t you?”

[morscordiss]

Perish / Parish | Chapter Four, Brotherhood

Previous Chapter: Chapter Three, The Fall

Next Chapter: Chapter Five, The Crux

Pairing: Null Sector Ramattra x Mechanic & machinist reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Reading Time: roughly 10 minutes

Synopsis: You let Zenyatta inside which causes Ramattra and him to have a rather emotional reunion. While those two spoke, you went back to your shop to try to busy yourself. While the two monks spoke, Zenyatta gave Ramattra a warning and confronted him. This caused Ramattra to be met with the harsh reality that he actually likes your company a lot. After the conversation finishes, you talk to Ramattra one last time before you head to bed, and of course, he’s acting weird.

He had settled into his meditation for the night, a stick of incense slowly burning on top of an old dresser, his meditation orb that was connected to his staff from years spent at the monastery slowly moving in calming patterns.

That quickly stopped when he heard erratic footsteps and the sound of his door being violently opened.

“Someone’s at the door, do not move unless you are absolutely sure. I’m gonna go answer it now-“

And by the time he was going to answer, the door had already been and the sound of their footsteps fluttering away down the corridor had slowly dissolved.

He stood up off of the floor and with his forefinger and thumb put out the incense with calculated precision. He then grabbed his scarf and put the void accelerator back into his staff and then sat on his bed, lying in wait for the sounds of a fight.

At least he looked somewhat put together if he needed to intimidate anyone.

…

Vivian couldn’t sleep that night. Her day was only full of the same thick tension that had laid on her shoulders earlier. She knew how insomnia worked, and she knew why she was having a restless night.

That damned cult leader.

She knew why he was doing everything, hell, she understood more than most his mindset of burning everything to the ground and dealing with the intricacies of the consequences later.

The monk was their only sign of hope within all of this destruction and darkness.

But the first step to getting justice for Vivian was finally letting go, and going to sleep.

…

The door finally opened and Zenyatta was greeted with a very out of breath and exhausted human.

“Greetings, do you have time to speak with me? The matter is urgent.”

His voice dipped low in concern.

“Yeah, come in.”

The mechanic was on edge, so his assumption was seemingly correct. Hopefully his brother was still alive.

Zenyatta floated inside whilst the mechanic quietly closed the door behind him. It seemed like he entered through their home instead of their shop- a simple mishap. Hopefully when he leaves he can find the usual entrance.

Introductions went smoothly as Zenyatta explained that he was a shambali monk and had some ties to Overwatch. Nothing too intimate, but certainly not a lack of pertinent information.

“It’s nice to meet you Zenyatta, what can I do for you?”

Their tired eyes followed Zen as they politely shut the door behind them both.

“There have been rumors that the leader of Null Sector had been damaged around this area, and Overwatch is searching for him.”

The light chimes of Zenyatta’s prayer orbs filled the room with a light and calming sound, the complete opposite of the loud thrumming of the mechanic's heartbeat.

“I believe that you know where he is, am I wrong?”

The question rang in the air as Zenyatta finally looked at them, the fear on their face answered better than words would have.

Nobody spoke for a minute, as Zenyatta decided to interpret their non-answer anyway.

“Worry not, I do not plan on giving up any information- he is my brother even after everything.”

The years of camaraderie warm on his vocoder.

Zenyatta checked in once again on the mechanic. They were unable to meet his optics. He already knew what this could mean.

The mechanic sighed as they sipped the cold water.

“It depends on how he feels about it, but he's never mentioned you before, so I’m a bit apprehensive about it…”

“I understand, you are wise to be wary- Overwatch wants him to see to his crimes but I am… impartial to him.”

Zenyatta reached a hand out to the mechanic, a sign of good will.

“You have my word on this, on my honor as a Shambali monk. Now, where is my brother? I must talk to him.”

…

Ramattra’s auditory system must have an issue, because there was no way in hell that he just heard Zenyatta’s vocoder.

A whirlwind of emotions went through his systems all at once: despair, hopefulness, happiness, minimal regret, but mostly yearning for what it could have been.

He did miss Zenyatta dearly, but he couldn’t continue to stay inside of the monastery- certainly with how slow things had been going for omnics.

And without thinking, Ramattra slowly made his way through the shop towards the sound of Zenyatta’s voice.

He barely paid any mind to the now quiet machines, the buzzing of whatever needed to stay on to function through the night, and the whirring of his fans. They were the only sounds other than his footsteps.

Maybe this was just a cruel mechanization from Overwatch to drag him outside to finally put him down like the dog they saw him as. Either way, he’d end this cruel game once and for all.

But instead of being greeted with some false amalgam of an old friend, he was greeted with a matured Zenyatta and a quietly panicking mechanic.

“Brother, I am glad to see you again.”

Zenyatta’s orbs stopped just for a second before returning to circling his frame. His voice was quieter than it had been while they were together at the monastery. He had taken on after Mondatta but… that would just be a path to destruction.

“And I am as well, but… Why are you here Zenyatta?”

Ramattra stared at the mechanic while speaking to Zenyatta but they couldn’t meet his eyes, instead finding purchase in their glass of water.

“To warn you mainly. You know well that Overwatch is searching for you, do you not?”

Zenyatta’s calm voice almost cut through the tension.

“I am aware,”

He turned to face Zenyatta, but remained imposing and unmoving.

“You must leave. This is a conversation between brothers, I apologize.”

Zenyatta turned back to the mechanic, a sympathy laced in his vocoder that Ramattra had heard long ago, primarily when Zenyatta was conversing with new monks.

“I get it, but I’d like an explanation afterwards. I can tell that this is… emotional. I hope everything goes well for the both of you”

They bowed, short and curt, before quickly leaving their own kitchen- presumably going to work on something in their shop space.

It was time for the interrogation to begin.

…

“Ramattra, you understand the importance of your actions, do you not?”

Zenyatta immediately cut through the thick silence after the mechanic left, wasting no time to confront Ramattra.

“I am fully aware of what I have accomplished and will continue to do, yes. You know this brother.”

Of course, this was irksome. Ramattra knew what he was doing. He’s been completely conscious of it since leaving the monastery for the second time. He isn’t stupid, but he knows it’s only to comfort Zenyatta.

“It brings some consolation knowing that you understand the extent of your actions, but on the other hand… it brings me much pain.”

The statement rang, plain and simple within the air, but without a second thought Ramattra replied quickly;

“You and I both know very well that the answer for our people did not lie within the monastery walls, Zenyatta. You do not need to chide me for my choices. I’d rather it be me alone making these sacrifices.”

He stepped closer, the rage roiling on his speech- ready to either fizzle out like a dying star or continue on its path to destruction.

“I know brother, you see yourself as a soon-to-be martyr, you’ve had that complex since I’ve met you.”

Zenyatta’s usually calm demeanor falters just for a second, and so does the calming movement of his orbs.

“Other than your nit pickings of my decisions, you’re here because of Overwatch, correct?”

Ramattra’s statement cut through the emotional reunion without remorse.

“Yes, they wish for you to face consequences for your violence. But, I am not here because I wish for you to face those penalties. I am here to warn you of their ongoing investigation.”

“I did not need you to confirm it but… I thank you nonetheless. But how did you come to affiliate with them?”

A reunion with one of the only few brothers he had wanted to see before he died and this is how it’s going? No watching stars together again, no appreciation between parties, just endless bureaucracy.

“A young man I trained was a part of their black-ops team, and came to the recall after my training with him. He brought me up with some of the administrators and now I am here.”

Ramattra shook his head in disgust and disbelief- instead of spending his time with the people that needed his counsel the most he spent that precious time on a human man? It was disgraceful.

“Shocking that you’d take a human under your wing, isn’t it?”

“I should be saying that to you, brother.”

“That is different, I am in need and they are the only one who can fix me in my current state”

He knew he was just grasping at straws, but it was better than going down without a fight.

“Ramattra, in the state you are in you may leave, it is your choice now to stay. You wish to stay- don’t you?”

Zenyatta had spoken the one thing that Ramattra wished would stay unsaid; and it caused him to nearly shut down.

“I will not judge you for it, I cannot imagine the weight of caring for yourself and the null sector soldiers at the same time… but it is very ironic.”

“You do not get to chide me for reveling in the few comforts I am given, Zenyatta.”

“I do think I should be able to call you out for your hypocrisy, brother.”

He was going to be nothing like Zenyatta, as he would be doing the work the Shambali were too afraid to do.

“My hypocrisy at this moment isn’t the defining moment right now. It is how to keep both of us… relatively safe.”

“It is refreshing to see you feel pity for humanity.”

“They are not human. They don’t have incessant hubris, endless avarice, or any naturally human qualities. They act more like our people.”

A sudden realization washed across Zenyatta. It seemed like fate had a rather hilarious way to warm his brother up to humanity.

“I see, brother.”

…

The silence filled the room easily.

On one side was Zenyatta, who couldn’t be happier that Ramattra was finally facing some character development.

On the other hand, Ramattra was so angry that he could overload his systems with another thought.

And then there was the mechanic- cluelessly organizing their shop space after the heavy repairs from the day.

And while you were there, you couldn’t help but eavesdrop just a little bit, enough to catch on that this wasn’t just a friendly meet-and-greet, it was a warning.

You couldn’t get the pit out of your stomach as ideas of the worst to come kept pelting you in the face. Thankfully your inner panic was helping with keeping you out of eavesdropping on anything else.

And the dull ache of sleep was calling to you still, but it had been overwritten by the overwhelming flood of adrenaline that shot straight into your heart.

The idea of even having to face Overwatch or Sojourn alone sent shivers down your spine. Obviously, you needed to hurry up on patching Ramattra up or else he’d leave in poor shape.

But more than your self-preservation, you were worried about Ramattra, who knows what he’d face in the hands of the penal system.

He had a point, even if you disliked violence.

But who listens to anything nowadays if it’s not violent?

God, you need some sleep and to figure out the plan for what’s ahead.

…

Ramattra’s hands absentmindedly gripped his staff while Zenyatta was droning on and on about humanity and human nature.

He’d always hated how Mondatta would drone on about humanity too, even while he was sewing his robes.

Ramattra missed having someone’s guidance, even if he was stubborn about what he believed.

He wished he could turn to someone in this tumultuous situation- his brother on one side and himself on the other. Maybe he just missed friendship- maybe that’s why he liked the mechanic so much.

They were intimate with him in ways that he didn’t know he needed, he hated being vulnerable but they hadn't taken advantage of him yet. Maybe that’s all he needed, a different perspective that allows him to breathe for a bit, to dig in his heels and think on other matters while someone else thinks about more important issues.

Or maybe this entire thing was corrupting his systems.

That suddenly sounded like a much more reasonable explanation for this sudden yearning for companionship.

“If that’s all, Zenyatta it would be best for you to leave so my position isn’t revealed. I sincerely thank you for your time.”

He was being sarcastic and anyone could hear it on his vocoder but Zenyatta ignored it easily.

“Anytime, my dear brother. Hopefully, this company helps you warm up to the amenities of coexistence.”

And with that, Zenyatta was floating over to the mechanics shop.

…

Very light knocking woke you from your daydreaming, and you opened to see Zenyatta- the floating monk.

“Thank you so much for your space and time, but I must be going. May you please show me the shop entrance? I’d rather not interrupt Ramattra anymore.”

“No problem, follow me.”

Half of the lights in the shop were on, making just enough light for you to be able to maneuver around all of the heavy equipment. Finally, you both made it to a door right next to a hydraulic press.

“Here it is! If you need anything from me, this is the ideal door to go through. If you have an emergency, please don’t wait to knock- just come right in.”

“Thank you again, I will be off. It was lovely meeting you.”

“Likewise, stay safe.”

…

With the visitors finally gone, you had time to check in on Ramattra before going to bed for the day.

Making your way back to your kitchen was as simple as writing your name on the palm of your hand.

But opening the door from the shop to your home wasn’t. You didn’t know what mood Ramattra would be in after such a unique visitor, they both seemed to have a very convoluted past with each other too.

So, you slowly open the door and slip inside your home to be greeted with absolutely nothing.

No sound, nothing out of place, just silence once again.

Until Ramattra rounds the corner into your living room.

“I appreciate that you left during that conversation.”

“No problem, not my place to be anyway.”

An awkward silence filled the space between you two for the umpteenth time.

“But still… This is an unusual circumstance. You’re handling these changes well.”

“And you aren’t also? It seems like your whole world flipped itself upside down within less than a day.”

“It did, but change in routine is also important. Success without sacrifice is useless.”

Ramattra looked at you this time, something clicking within his systems after a second of searching.

“I guess so… are you ready to head back to your room or do you wanna talk about what happened today?”

You leave the question open-ended so as not to stress him out any further.

“I am unsure… maybe it would be for the best if we tabled this conversation for tomorrow.”

“I get it, I’m exhausted anyway so this works out well for me. You know my place enough to make it back to your room right?”

Your legs felt so heavy and you were hitting your limit for the day. You prayed he’d finally go to his room for the night.

“Yes, thank you for your hospitality- it will not go unnoticed.”

“Anytime, I’m going off to bed. I hope you have a good night Ramattra.”

“Likewise.”

Before you retire to your room for the night, you look back at Ramattra.

He’s nearly at full health and soon you’d have to let him go, but that’s for the best.

But deep in your heart, you wished he’d stay with you just for a little longer.

And then you left him, the call of sleep too strong to ignore anymore.

[morscordiss]

Perish / Parish | Chapter Three, The Fall

Previous Chapter: Chapter Two, The Burden

Next Chapter: Chapter Four, Brotherhood

Pairing: Null Sector Ramattra x Mechanic & Machinist Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, character study, Will edit tags in the future

Word Count: 2.0k

Estimated Reading Time: roughly 7 minutes

Synopsis: Sojourn is working with Overwatch to try and find Ramattra. You work on repairing Ramattra's busted shoulder servos and faceplate while Ramattra has an existential crisis. Then after a long day of repair you're greeted with a knocking at your front door.

   The sound of footsteps clacking on a cold floor rang out in the Overwatch drop-pod. It had been two days since Vivian had shot the leader of null sector with what she believed would’ve been a fatal blow, the only thing stopping her from confirming him as dead was the fact that they had no body. Hell, he had practically dropped off of the face of the earth.

She remembered every second of their nasty confrontation, the weight of her railgun, her mouth feeling so damn dry, and her screams of anguish after she realized he had gotten away. She was just so exhausted from it all. But the shame from her failure left a lasting impact on her.

It’s not like she wasn’t used to failure, but in her hometown? Seeing so much carnage while she had worked to keep the town orderly and peaceful?

Thankfully, Overwatch had made it so that anyone entering or leaving New Queens Street would be documented, and very few people stayed. Mainly the elderly or rebellious kids stayed while everyone else made it to the cargo ship or got subjugated.

They have to find him, to bring back Overwatch- to save the people who’d surely be killed if they showed signs of resistance. But they had nothing other than the assumption that Ramattra was too injured to leave the area safely.

Vivian really wanted to believe that he was still in New Queens Street, but knowing how crafty he was, they needed multiple backup-plans. 

Nobody destroys her city without consequences, and she’d make it her mission to find this bastard and take him out.

The only reason she decided against tearing apart the entirety of downtown was because apparently the ninja knew someone who used to be close to Ramattra from their days at the Shambali monastery.

Hopefully Zenyatta would be willing to help her and Overwatch out if he trained Genji.

…

   It had been five days since you found Ramattra outside. 

And within those five days, you both fell into an awkward routine with each other.

You’d wake up around ten in the morning, grab a drink, and then immediately start working on a repair or a part that Ramattra needed. Then, by noon your hands would be calloused, your shirt covered in oil and metal chips. Thankfully the trusty rag you had hanging out of your pants pocket was still absorbent enough to clean off the machines when the pressurized air blaster wouldn’t.

He had already started to get used to the sounds of a human workshop. The sounds of a clean metal finish on a mill or lathe, the tight screech that came when reaming, and the loud jerk when round pull the red emergency brake on any machine.

Today, the mechanic had decided to first work on putting his faceplate. Seemingly, they’d realized the much more efficient way to do it- the scrapped faceplate laid on the workbench across from him. Even for scrapped work, it was very well executed.

They had grabbed a camera and asked him to remove his face plate, he assumed that they’d just do a 3D scan of the damage and use higher-grade filament to create a copy that perfectly covered the damage.

And Ramattra was right! But, the print would take about 7 hours due to the precision that you had demanded from your machine- that and needing to print metal.

During that time, they had grabbed a plastic storage container full of servos motors of all shapes and sizes, yellow, blue, red, and black wires sticking out haphazardly from the pile, bits of copper wire fully exposed to the elements.

The feeling of malleable human hands inspecting his shoulder brought him back to reality. 

“Hey Ramattra, I need to take off your arm to get to this motor- I already have a crane set up.”

They pointed a thumb behind them,

“Fine, my only request is that I end my day with my arm on my body.”

After living with him for multiple days, you had noticed that he’d always assume the worst when it came to you or other humans, and of course, this hurt your ego.

“Perfect, that’s the plan. Come with me please,”

You gave him a curt tight-lipped smile and turned around, finally able to roll your eyes. 

But your touch permeated long after your hands left him.

…

The work table now had a patterned blanket covering the dented metal along with a simple white pillow. Well, at least you tried to make this more comfortable for him. 

The table had an extension on the upper right-hand side along with a home-made crane.

And shockingly, the crane did not comfort him at all.

He laid down onto the table, resting his head against the pillow so kindly procured for him and watched as the mechanic had laid out all the tools they needed; multiple screw drivers, a pulse tracer, even more wires because they seemingly had an infinite amount in storage. But of course, the human still had kept that oil can on top of their toolbox.

…

Your calloused hands slowly started to disconnect the threaded fasteners that kept his shoulder together. From what you could tell, his shoulder had a universal double joint and both the input and output shafts were connected to parallel servomotors. 

So, this would be an utter nightmare to take apart and put together if you didn’t keep track of every little bit and piece of the omnic in front of you.

After you removed his arm at the shoulder, you moved the extension table that currently held it away from you so you could peek into exactly where that servos would be and found what was left. Honestly, if you had no prior knowledge of what this motor is supposed to look like you would’ve thought it was a piece of scrap shoved into him.

What a wonderful start to such a complicated fix!

…

After an hour of slowly removing even more pieces of Ramattra to get at the worlds most convoluted motor, and then spending another hour putting his arm back on his socket, and then at least forty minutes doing diagnostic testing to double-check that you had done it correctly- Ramattra’s right shoulder had been repaired.

But there was still the molten shot that was below his left shoulder. It almost made you nauseous. It was such an extreme piece of damage that you almost didn’t want to even try to fix it- all of the rewiring, fabrication, and attention to detail that one motor made grounded you to reality.

You would need an entire day to fix that one gunshot wound, and you need to get that taken care of as fast as you can despite how frightening it is.

…

Watching your hands tear him apart and put him back together was an experience that Ramattra wasn’t equipped for.

He watched something that he hated so clearly within his mind take him apart and piece him back together with so much  passion and care, he watched your face twist and turn in seemingly never ending concentration. The warmth of your skin all over him. Reconnecting wires, slowly unscrewing threads, doing everything in your power to keep him alive.

But above all was the overwhelming contrast that your effort held to all of the violence he had perpetrated and experienced.

And when he was confronted with such compassion, 

He decided to pull away.

The last time he felt how much anyone had cared about him was back when Null Sector was still young and full of passion, not just him and the mindless drones he created. But after Kings Row all of that changed.

He had been hardened through years of warfare, clawing at any possibility to fulfill his instinct to protect his people. He had hardened himself because if he didn’t, who would?

If he didn’t take power, someone else would. And there was no guarantee that they’d be kind. If he did not take action, then who would? The same question repeated in his systems for years by now, the same question that had made him leave the monastery.

There was no time for him to waste, he was still in the middle of a battlefield after all. His safety was still uncertain, and your loyalty had yet to be tested. 

Even if he didn’t like the thought of it, he was completely willing to kill you if the moment arose. 

That was the last thought he had before he meditated for the night.

…

The lack of windows in your shop made it easy to forget what time it was or how much time had passed.

You had finally left to grab a snack when the flooding darkness of night swept through the windows of your home. You hadn’t yet invited Ramattra here but after fixing his shoulder he seemed more tense than usual. So, you let him be.

You actually enjoy his presence. He’s a good conversationalist when he does decide to talk to you, but one thing creeps into your mind while standing in your kitchen with a glass of water,

You have been giving more than you’ve got. The relationship you two have was built on that imbalance.

Which is not a bad thing, it’s supposed to be this way for now. He is injured and needs help, and it is your job to provide repairs and what little comforts you can. Accommodation is a part of this job just as much as the repair is. 

But you becoming attached wasn’t, and you know that he wouldn’t be here if he had that choice currently.

You’ve always given more than you got, though. Every now and then, you remember this and go on to have an emotional night. It happens maybe once every two months? This is probably happening now because you overworked yourself too much- or maybe it’s the stress of having the person who is responsible for tearing apart your hometown inside of your house asking you for aid.

Your head ached, your hands felt so heavy, and you were sore everywhere. All the physicality needed to move, run, and haul everything you needed today finally put its price onto your body. Your head spun, and you finally felt the ping of nausea.

And you sat on the floor of your kitchen for an embarrassing amount of time as you tried your best to ground yourself back to reality using any possible method to try- the cold feeling of the glass in your hand, the humming of the air conditioner, the ornate tiling on the floor below you, and the dry feeling and lack of taste in your mouth.

It was hard to make new friends with how stressful things had become. It felt like every power was trying to suffocate each other and the regular people were in the line of fire- just being used as pawns. A part of you knew that you’d be in the line of fire, just not in this way.

Nothing seemed to be able to get to you other than your own thoughts.

Well, that and a knocking at your door.

Even with all of this violence just on the street, someone had came to your door and knocked.

You scrambled to Ramattra’s room, leaving whoever was at the door waiting.

…

   He had heard many things about this place from the omnics he had encountered during the effort to bring order back to New Queen’s Street and if anyone would be willing to shelter Ramattra, it would be this mechanic.

The immediate sound of footsteps running all over the home had also been a good indication that this was the right place.

He hoped he was right, he hoped that his brother would be here alive and well.

As Zenyatta floated idly, he whirled his orbs around himself in a never ending form of meditation. He would wait here forever if it meant seeing him again. He hoped that Ramattra felt similarly, but their paths had left each others' a very long time ago.

Hopefully this time it will be different.

[morscordiss]

Perish / Parish | Chapter Two, The Burden

Previous Chapter: Chapter One, No Mercy

Next Chapter: Chapter Three, The Fall

Pairing: Null Sector Ramattra x Mechanic & Machinist Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, character study, Will edit tags in the future

Word Count: 2.0k Estimated Reading Time: roughly 8 minutes Synopsis: Ramattra and you discuss more of his injuries and share your thoughts on Overwatch. You come to the decision to fix him up and not hand him to Overwatch. Later in the week you two become more comfortable with each other as you try to help Ramattra carry the burden that he's been silently shouldering for years. Extra: this should have about 14 chapters all together not counting the prologue and epilogue. Hopefully I can continue on this insane streak I have!

   This situation is a very delicate one, as you’ve never had to patch up an omnic that is recognized as a terrorist around the globe before. But, everytime you help someone out you learn something new and gain more wisdom. In this case, you wish you had a lot more wisdom than you have currently! After Ramattra had introduced himself, You had stayed silent for a very long time, slowly but surely digesting the information you’d been given. His voice is the same as those on those televisions, his silhouette the same as well. If he was telling a lie, it was a very well manufactured one. Thankfully, he could tell that you were taking your time with this information, your head in your hands as you continuously tried to breathe, trying to mull over your options. Those options being: Firstly, taking him to overwatch- but with the things you’ve heard about overwatch that just doesn't seem like a good idea. Secondly, you could take him to the authorities which are… currently not here.

The cacophony of emotions that overtook you was enough for you to politely see yourself out before going over to your shop sink and dousing your face in the coldest water you could get. 

… Ramattra watched as the mechanic left the workshop and some part of him felt bad. He was aware of the very high chance of you recognizing his voice and was thankful that this eventful introduction had been taken care of early- but this would most likely change the type of aid they would be willing to give him. He preferred not to lie or to make demands because once you do, the relationship is tarnished easily- whether it's between two organizations or two people, it just never seemed to work out. While the mechanic was gone, Ramattra finally closed his chestplate and brought his hand up to his faceplate, they were correct; more than a fourth of his faceplate was completely blown off, leaving his optic out in the open. He glanced at the mill where you were working before you aided him with his voice box and saw a rough work-in-progress version of what he assumed would be the repair to his faceplate.

Whatever was happening in the other room, he hoped that they’d come to their senses quickly to discuss the future ahead of them. … Some time passed before you were able to step back into the room. It wasn’t because you saw Ramattra in a negative light or even disagreed with his methods, it was just such a unique situation to you and one of the few that you’d have to figure out what to do completely by yourself. Within fifteen minutes of leaving the room, you’d already stepped back into the workshop.The quiet sound of Ramattra’s fans whirring being the only sound within the room. “Hey, I’m back. Sorry about that, I'm just… overwhelmed.” Your shoulders slumped and your heart beat fast against your chest. R-7000’s could sense things like heart rate so pretending that you were completely fine was out of the picture. An unpleasant thought also came up: Ramattra had military power, and you saw his hands easily dent the table… He could easily take care of you even in this state if you became a liability. You were dragged out of your thoughts by Ramattra speaking again. “This is far from an ideal meeting for the both of us and I’m appreciative that you’re being… honest.” The word hung heavy on his tongue as he grappled with your earnestness. It was uncommon to deal with a human who was willing to be so vulnerable with him. But, he was thankful that both of you had certain liabilities revealed. “Well, you can tell in some ways when I’m not, right?” The mechanic quietly asked him, their fingers pinching at the bridge of their nose. “In arbitrary ways, yes I can. Now then, we need to discuss our next actions accordingly.” Ramattra’s posture straightened on the dented medical table, sitting up for the first time since he had been laid down in the shop. The sounds of fizzling wires, the haphazard whirring of his fans, and clanking of destroyed servos motors. An emphatic reminder of all the work that still needed to be done. “What are your main concerns- maintenance wise or safety wise?” The mechanic spoke quietly with concern laced into their features, brow furrowed and eyes glazing over him- reevaluating his capabilities. … Ramattra started on about how you could turn him into overwatch or whatever authority you deem fit, but something caught your attention other than his patronizing tone. Out of every possible worry, you believed that taking care of his injuries was the most pertinent issue even before what would happen if he happened to be found. Just from looking at him you could tell that multiple of his finger joints on his left hand were busted, his right shoulder servos were shattered- but the term obliterated rings more true. And, of course, there was his faceplate. Nearly half of it was blown off, enough to see the exposed optic underneath. Any of the LEDs that were under the plating were fried. The cracks of what remained spiderwebbed along his hairline, across where his nose would be, and his other optic. His brow had soot wiped across it. His jaw, once well-taken care of and painted royal purple, was now full of scratches from the debris almost making it look like he weathered a sandstorm. But there was one more problem and it was behind his ratted scarf- without asking you moved it aside. It was a miracle you didn’t notice the hole that bored through Ramattra’s left shoulder. The metal had cooled down over the time it took you to discover it. But, the railgun shots were distinct and melted anything in its path, leaving a nearly reamed hole behind. “Why didn’t you immediately tell me about this?I don’t even know how this got past me earlier- how are you even functioning?”

You abruptly started to inspect the technological viscera in front of you, mind jumping from plan to plan as you tried to piece together all of the repairs he needed done.

“Have you already forgotten my model? We were created to be unshakeable.” “Well, this is the worst wound I've ever seen in years, Ramattra. I hate to table an important conversation- especially one that I started. But, for your peace of mind I do not plan on turning you in, I believe in your cause and I agree with your sentiments. When this is at least patched up we can start being realistic on where we go from here, okay?” “Do not act like my sentiments are unfounded, I am nearly defenseless and can think of many who would take this opportunity to strike.”

“You currently have no more teeth to bite on- I am aware. I intend on getting you up and running- and fuck Overwatch. I can’t think of many people who I’d willingly put into their administrative hands. They’re currently a barely-functioning mess and both of us know it.”

That seemed to shut him up, as for the next hours he stayed completely silent unless answering questions about how he felt. … Two days have passed since the both of you had talked about Overwatch and the future ahead. And with time passing by, it became much easier to talk to Ramattra. He felt similarly. You gained a certain respect from him from the similar ideals that you both shared. He appreciated your action while you slowly but surely told him about your beliefs and how you found yourself so encompassed in repairs. You had a lot of omnic friends, and one day one of those friends got badly hurt by an attack. You listened, learned, and slowly but surely garnered a steady clientele by supporting grass-roots types. But as time went on, you slowly became more and more radical. Which wasn’t an issue, the bigotry ran deep within all countries and organizations. You’d seen too much to stand by while friends and families were destroyed in front of your eyes, the only generation dwindling before your eyes. Omnics were second-hand citizens across the world, and you weren’t friends with anyone who thought differently. It was just that simple for you. The first difficult conversation you had with him was about human nature. You both talked about selfishness, competitiveness, hierarchy, violence, and domination across the histories of mankind. Ramattra had a very pessimistic view of humanity and so did you, but even with the harsh realities of the world around you needed to stay positive. Both of you knew that the only way to keep on fighting for a better world was by believing in the best of people. You believed that with time and active effort that humanity could fight against what Ramattra called “animalistic tendencies.” Once again, you came to the conclusion that you had very similar views, the only difference was that you had hope for humanity while Ramattra was uncertain. But could you blame him for being so wary of humanity? The same humanity that gouged out such a hole in him? Destroyed his face and his voice? You knew better than to ignore his experiences. These types of conversations littered the times when you weren’t working on repairing Ramattra. You started small with defective servos, slowly moving up to his faceplate. Thankfully, the railgun shot in his shoulder had melted so much metal that none of his coolant was leaking out- but that did mean a part of his chest cavity was full of liquid. You needed so much more energy to defeat that beast. While working on a plan to safely drain the coolant fluid you fell into the familiar rhythm that the rehabilitative process created. It was intimate and uncomfortable, and over the week you had seen Ramattra in various states of undress, cognizance, and emotions. You’d never say this outloud to him, but nursing him back to health was an amazing way to build a friendship. 

Ramattra was finally comfortable enough to tell you about his past, the topic that came up the most was his time in the Shambali monastery. Everyday he’d tell you something new, and every day you’d add little pieces to the room you gave him for his stay. You firstly made him a place for meditation, then a hook to keep his staff on, and lastly left his scarf neatly folded on his bed after you mended it and washed it to the best of your ability. He didn’t say much or immediately acknowledge the changes you made to his space, but he was warming up.

…

Ramattra was shocked to say the least when nearly every day after repairs he’d find a new accommodation to his room, whether it was his staff, his scarf, or adding a pillow or blanket to the ground to act as a meditative space he’d always end up overthinking your actions for him.

The warmth of companionship was something he had given up after Lanet’s death, the thought of hurting someone who seemed to care for him with no strings attached laid heavy on his mind. He couldn’t find the will to thank you for your kindness even as he grew more accustomed to your presence, your touch, or your voice.

So, every night after you had either gone to work on a specialized part or went to sleep, Ramattra spent hours meditating, thinking, and ruminating on your actions.

You never claimed to speak for humanity, and in a way he didn’t see you as human- but your actions did help him gain perspective. It was nice to be around someone who also looked towards the future, the betterment of society.

Someone who didn’t believe in the thralldom of his model. Someone who saw the compassion that Mondatta said bled through him.

For the first time in a long time, Ramattra felt the burden of being alone, even if it was just temporarily.

[morscordiss]

Perish / Parish | Chapter One, No Mercy

Prologue: Kiss Me, Son of God!

Next Chapter: Chapter Two, The Burden

Pairing: Null Sector Ramattra x Mechanic & Machinist Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, character study, maybe smut in future? Unsure as of now. Will edit tags if I decide it makes sense story wise. Word Count: 2.2k words (fixed mistakes!) Reading Time: roughly 8 minutes

Synopsis: You’re a mechanic and machinist who’s been aiding rebellions around New Queen Street for a couple years, usually helping out by being a street medic and mechanic. You don’t disagree with Ramattra’s methods, but you do wish he never felt the need to resort to violence.

Ramattra’s plans have failed, and as he slowly loses power he reflects on his actions and wonders if they’d all been for nothing. You’re (un)lucky enough to find him right behind your workshop. you decided against listening to the evacuation orders because you wanted to help those guaranteed to be stuck in the city during the invasion. Maybe it was bravery, but most likely it was recklessness. Either way there's an omnic who needs your help and this is exactly what you stayed behind to do.

Inspiration: name was grabbed from L4D2, specifically the last mission “The Parish” & it made my neurons connect. This chapter is also named after L4D's first mission, No Mercy. Hospital theme went hard anyways. Just had to throw my hat into the ring with all of these fun mechanic AU's popping up! Please check out the drabble if you'd like some more info before starting this first chapter!

The sounds of the Null Sector invasion shook the entire area of New Queen’s Street to its very core, and as one of the residents, it did to you too.

Nobody should ever be used to the sounds of war, but in this day and age, it has become a regular occurrence. Whether it was from Overwatch or the alleged group of Talon, you’d become very used to groups grasping for power. Null Sector was just one that you didn’t expect to see back after the failed liberation in Kings Row and the assassination of Mondatta.

As you stayed inside your messy shop space while you heard the screaming, explosions, and gunfire, you and the five omnics you were able to grab and push inside your home were panicking a lot. Some talked amongst themselves about the Null Sector’s leader, some agreed with him, some didn’t, and most were shocked to say much about it. You patched up the ones that needed any support before directing them to a boat while Overwatch was still in the vicinity.

Now, it was just you in your basement. A while ago vehicles stopped crashing and buildings stopped falling, but you could still hear the sound of war and carnage so close to you. You could still hear the sound of the speech droning on in the background above all of the noise:

“My fellow omnics...do not be afraid.”

the deep voice spoke to, hopefully nobody at this point. The sounds of the televisions slowly getting more and more fractured as you listened in;

“This is not war… liberation… creation, humans have oppressed us… lived in fear.”

louder sounds happened- it sounded like metal screeching right on your house. It was disgusting- similar to nails on a chalkboard.

“That ends now-”

You heard something heavy above your house fall- it sounded like a heavy omnic. You thought you had got them all out of the area? Had you not? Hopefully this time, you weren’t too late to save a life.

…

Ramattra’s body felt so heavy, he still had some light function but his vocoder was destroyed, his optics weren’t able to focus in on any objects, but he still had his hearing. He could tell only his most vital systems were online. Hell, it was even hard to think properly.

He did hear human footsteps though, and that thought terrified him- but all he could do was lie there and pretend like he was dead.

But the oddest part about this was that it seemed to be a civilian who found him. Most humans quickly left the city but this one didn’t. Maybe they were just reckless? Most likely just stupid or otherwise impulsive.

“Shit… how is this gonna even fit in the shop… or the door for that matter?”

The grumbling of a human voice once again confirmed his suspicions, but this had meant that he nearly died right outside of a mechanic’s house. Maybe he could live another day here. Though, he wasn’t completely sure this person wouldn’t recognize him from the hundreds of red screens that showed his faceplate- even if it was obscured just enough.

He felt two hands inspecting his body, starting at his chest and slowly feeling around his entire body. Multiple varying thoughts and feelings about this situation pushed and pulled in his systems easily but he did wish he could speak, and so he tried.

He couldn't see their face but one could assume it was full of horror that something could even function in this state, even without the LEDs on his forehead glowing. He heard the human curse loudly and apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you were still lucid after all the damage you took but… You’re an R-7000 so I should’ve known better. I’m going to try to get you into my shop- I have a manual mill and lathe set up to a generator so I should be able to slowly piece you back together…”

The human continued to ramble about what they planned to do to get him up and running which was slightly relieving to Ramattra because although he’s stubborn, this isn’t an issue he could fix by himself.

The irony of a human nursing him back to health didn’t bode well for his already destroyed mental state though. Maybe he was just hallucinating the human above him, or maybe it was whatever otherworldly power trying to confuse him. Either way, he was still losing energy and was quickly fading back to black.

…

Out of all omnics you have had the pleasure to help, an R-7000 Ravager or a ‘Squad-killer’ was unknown to you. Of course, you’ve heard about them and their creation by the God program Anubis but seeing one desecrated in the alley behind your shop was a very unique experience.

You ran back into your shop to find a specialized stretcher made for you by one of the last organizations you helped out with on the ground of a protest. It was made specifically for omnics and had a hydraulic lift system that would surely pick up the Ravager. You moved back outside quickly and slowly pushed him onto the stretcher before raising it back up but before you left, you saw a shepherd's staff on the ground right next to him. You grabbed it and went back to work.

The shop was cold, dark, and smelled of metal chips, oil, and whatever candle you tried out to get rid of the everlasting smell of grease, sweat, and on occasion, blood. The only pieces of machinery are an old lathe, a mill, and a couple of 3D printers with resin and filament around them.

Some blueprints for common and uncommon omnic parts were littered around a work table along with some newly welded sawblades next to a vice-grip. MIG, TIG, and arc welders along with a torch. Plus your nearly person-sized toolbox full of everything you’d need to freestyle parts from scratch like a center, way too many drill bits, a file, and more.

The pseudo-medical table you had finally put the R-7000 on was thankfully already sanitized from the last couple of visits. Taking a cable and snaking it around his neck, you plugged him into a power source as you wrote down a list of things you’d need to do.

It was gonna be a very long night, but this type of work is your passion anyway. You finally looked back at the omnic before getting to work, heading to the mill first.

…

When Ramattra regained his consciousness for the second time since he was nearly destroyed, he came to consciousness while lying on a metal table. He finally had the energy to recalibrate his optics and hearing sensors but was kindly greeted with the lovely sounds of fabrication.

The shockingly smooth sound of cold rolled steel being milled to a clean finish, but he could hear the human error behind the wheel of an ancient piece of technology- a manual mill.

Not only did he pass out outside of a mechanics shop, but the damned human also knew how to machine like an elderly man. Most of those machines weren’t even relevant fifty years ago, so it was a miracle this one was even running and someone could use it with such ease.

Ramattra decided to try to move his head which was a successful endeavor- he could see the human at the mill, an equally ancient lathe, a section full of types of metal, filament, and electronics, and a very large toolbox with an oil can and multiple papers on top of it.

Wrenches, drills, batteries, nuts, and bolts of all sizes decorated this impressively old-fashioned workshop. A pair of old welding gloves and a newer type of welding helmet at a MIG welder. But, he had to get this human to work on him at some point- he hoped that’s what they were doing while using that primitive technology.

Ramattra once again used his vocoder to garner the attention of the human. The reaction was the same, a jump, and before he knew it, an emergency lever was pulled on the mill as they hurried across the shop to him.

“I’m sorry, I was just working on a new faceplate for you because yours is in… bad shape. But, that can wait. You need to be able to communicate with me before I can work on you- I need to know what you want me to help you with.”

And like that, they grabbed their toolbox and rolled it over to him, some screwdrivers already picked out and wire replacements on the table, along with the same can of oil from before along with a soldering wire.

“I’m going to need you to open your chassis so I can take a look inside and replace or repair the fried wires of your vocoder,” and what else could Ramattra do other than follow the orders of the human above him?

A draft of hot air was released into the room while the human moved a light to look more into his chassis- it felt invasive, but he was never one to enjoy being vulnerable.

“Thank you, does one of your hands still work?”

Ramattra nodded.

“That’s good news, if or when you need me to stop, just tap the table three times- try doing it right now so I know what it sounds like.”

The ringing of metal to metal echoed around the shop while the human above him smiled.

“Perfect, thank you for following my instructions. I’ll start now- first I’m going to take a peek around your vocoder and feel around the wires. The reason is that I want to see if you feel any sort of sensation- good or bad. Just knowing some of your sensors are still online is good okay?”

Ramattra didn’t move. He felt like he was being coddled like a child. He was fully aware of what this would entail because he’s an engineer himself but sadly, there wasn’t an easy way to let this person know as his motor skills had thoroughly declined.

At least this human was seasoned enough in omnic repairs that they knew about basic sensor input.

As a human hand touched the inside of Ramattra’s chest, he nearly grabbed onto their hand and tore- anything to stop the awful sensation of organic on omnic.

A shiver ran up and down his spinal sensors and he gripped the metal table. The sound of metal crunching under his fingertips alerted the human above him to stop before continuing at a much slower pace, a bead of sweat going down their brow before being wiped away by gloved hands.

Finally, the human had unscrewed the vocoder box and started to solder the wires that could be salvaged or gently tug on those that couldn’t.

If the sensation of skin to wire was awful before, this was abhorrent.

Whatever Ramattra had been gripping onto was subsequently dented to oblivion- the loud crunch deafening in the workshop. The human had quickly stopped, observed the damage to the table, and took their hands out of his chassis.

“That… has never happened to me before. I didn’t think it would be that bad- maybe I could divert your sensor systems to my computer while doing this to avoid-”

Ramattra’s patience had worn thin. His vocoder is just barely working well enough to tell his human off

“That would be impossible, now how about you continue before this table is crushed to pieces-”

The vocoder still stuttered and cut out multiple times during his sentence but the passion was easily understood. The mechanic's positive demeanor changed quickly to being stone-faced and precise as they moved quickly to replace the wires within Ramattra’s vocoder.

…

Any small movement out of place the table would be slightly more dented than the last time you saw it. Honestly, it was annoying and disappointing but everyone handles these types of invasive procedures differently, and you could easily repair the table later with the R-7000’s help.

It wasn’t uncommon that patients would be worried about having a human work on them, usually it was just because you were the closest and it was an emergency, but slowly and surely you started to get regular patients that were comfortable with you.

Hell, you got compliments on your bedside manner constantly and many of the omnics appreciated that you talked them through procedures even as simple as replacing a busted servo. So, it was uncomfortable to have an omnic with so much strength be unsatisfied with your work.

You finished as quickly as you could, soldering the wires with as much precision as you could while the Ravager was as silent and still as he could be, the sounds of his fans whirring and melting with the sound of metal meeting metal. You finally screwed his vocoder shut and gave him a polite nod and moved back from him quickly.

“Try talking now, please.”

The ravager made a sound similar to a cough before speaking;

“Human, you finally finished.”

You felt a sinking feeling in your gut. How could you forget that voice- that was obviously the voice of the leader of the null sector.

The ravager must’ve sensed a change in your heartbeat because he slowly sat up on the table and introduced himself,

“I am Ramattra.”

Thank you so much for reading! this has been pretty fun so I hope to have chapter two out within the beginning of next week! Mainly inspired by Left 4 Dead name-wise & song inspiration was Loser by Beck.

[morscordiss]

Masterlist

hey, just thought I should finally get a master list out due to how much I’ve been writing. But here’s some quick information:

STORYBOARDED - means that I’ve gotten the rough outline of the story down and am currently waiting on a spark of inspiration

WIP, X/X DONE - X amount of the story is done- will usually post when 2 or more chapters are done and when the 3rd is close to finished

VAGUE IDEA - thinking more about the story / currently story boarding or building off of an idea

below the cut does spoil some of my upcoming works, you've been warned! (no actual plot information is dropped though.)

OVERWATCH

RAMATTRA

Clandestine , AO3

Monk Ramattra x GN Reader, NSFW, light angst. roughly 20 minutes of reading time & 5.3k words.

On The Cross (Storyboarded)

Part 2 of Clandestine, Monk Ramattra x GN reader, NSFW. I want to focus more on characterization this time as I'm genuinely shocked it's been doing so well both on here and AO3!

Kiss Me, Son of God! , AO3

angst drabble, prologue to Perish / Parish.

Perish / Parish 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, AO3

A take on the mechanic au- sponsored by my failed machinist AAS. Null sector Ramattra x GN! Mechanic & Machinist reader.

Killing In The Name Of (storyboarded)

Null Sector Ramattra x GN reader, character study

Why We Break Windows (Storyboarded)

Null Sector Ramattra x GN reader, character study

COLE CASSIDY

Save a Horse… (WIP, 2/3RDs completed) coming soon

Cassidy x GN reader, NSFW

So Doggone Lonesome (Storyboarded)

Cassidy x GN reader, fluff & light angst

GENJI SHIMADA

Tessellate (WIP, 1/3rd completed) Coming soon

Blackwatch Genji x GN reader, angst & NSFW

Twisted Nerve (Storyboarded)

Angst drabble, character study

Achilles Come Down (vague idea)

Genji x GN reader, angst

HAZARD / FINDLAY DOCHERY

Take Me Out! (Vague idea)

Gn reader, character study

Keep On Rollin’ Baby! (Vague idea)

Gn reader, character study

[morscordiss]

Kiss Me, Son of God!

Genre: Drabble, angst. Prologue!

Word Count: 780ish words

Estimated Time to Read: 2 minutes Now a prologue to my new series Perish / Parish

Synopsis: Ramattra’s plans have failed, and as he slowly loses power he reflects on his actions and wonders if they’d all been for nothing. It felt like the world had been screaming at him.

Inspiration: Kiss Me, Son of God! By There Might Be Giants.

Extra: honestly I love using religious imagery for Ramattra because his design and story are just so deeply intertwined with it. I could probably write an essay on just how much religious allusions there are in him lmao

Ramattra has spent years of his life building up Null Sector and keeping the mission alive in remembrance of everyone he’s lost, either to their inaction or their death. His conviction, rage, and ambition have been the driving forces behind so much of his life’s purpose.

So why is everything falling apart now?

He’s badly damaged, one of his optics nearly shot out from a railgun. The invasion of Queen Street took a disastrous turn after one of his old allies had told Overwatch about an old plan he decided to use. It was his fault for not changing enough of the original plans anyway, his most impulsive decisions always caused him the most trouble.

He could still see so much of the city burning, hearing the awful sounds of war and his own booming voice over it all. His manifesto was still airing to the citizens but by this point, they’d most likely been evacuated. If it was happening to anyone else he would’ve found it ironic, but it only added to how helpless and resentful he felt.

He felt so stupid that he didn’t think about this one contingency. But why would he have? None of his previous friends seemed to be the type to work with Overwatch of all organizations. Of course, Overwatch is so quick to name something a terrorist organization but so eager to work with a former ‘terrorist.’

He could feel the coolant leaving his systems. His servos were already losing strength as he was slowly drained of his energy. The scarf wrapped around him was an utter mess both torn, drenched in coolant and oil. This symbol of his time working to absolve himself of sins he didn’t commit finally destroyed.

His mind drifted as he limped through the city about what would happen if he got into Overwatch’s custody. Knowing how cruel they could be and how many of their previous members went to Talon eagerly, he assumed the worst.

But he had to. They never saw him as a truly sentient creature. Humans never did, the most preformative ones feigning righteousness- one that popped into his database was Hazard, poor man was so close to understanding but then again, he was just that- human.

Ramattra used the last of his strength to carry himself deep into a less destroyed alleyway and finally fell, his back scraping loudly against the brick. His censors barely even worked so he couldn’t even feel the nauseating pain that he should’ve been in but he could hear the awful sound the alloy against the wall made.

Before he powered down he took a good look at his surroundings. Broken glass on the ground, a dumpster, and some old mechanics’ tools. Hell, there was even a bin full of metal chips, multiple types of metal inside. It felt like the world loved to tease him by giving him flickering hope at every single step in his journey before tearing it away from him.

He then tried to see if he still had his most powerful tool; his voice. A pitiful attempt on his part, as the only sound that came out of him was an awful screech. He stopped quickly to avoid drawing any unwanted attention to himself. But did it really matter anymore? He had lost and this time it felt like he was finally dead. His head felt so heavy and his systems just kept on screaming errors at him. Awfully humbling when your own body is telling you to give up.

He sat in that alley in all of his former glory slowly dying. The resignation settled into his body for what seemed like the final time.

He hoped that history would look kindly on him and his cause, but knowing exactly who would write it made that thought end quickly. Maybe his death would cause more movements of similar types, maybe he’d finally be able to save his people.

The clattering of his staff woke him up from his daydream. He didn’t even realize he was still holding it. The shepherds’ staff and what it represented added even more insult to injury. He had led so many to their deaths and he knew that, he remembered Lanet. He remembered Kings Row. He remembers it all. He thought about the monastery, the prayer, the reflection, his teachings both before and after leaving. He remembered his time of pilgrimage, he remembered finding Zenyatta.

Nobody could even look him in the optics anymore. No more bonds of friendship able to save him, no more righteous war for freedom. No more people looking at him with both reverence and loathing.

The lights on his forehead finally flickered away, leaving him unmoving on the pavement. The shepherd who led those to the ideals of a better life and future finally stripped bare of his ironic humanity.

“Kiss me, Son of God!”

[morscordiss]

About the Author

so, surprisingly the first thing I've written for a bit has actually been doing well so I've decided to start writing again regularly. below the cut is a little bit about me & what type of requests I plan on taking

What do I write?

Well, as of now I plan on being pretty Overwatch focused. But, if you're interested in me dipping into other fandoms you can just do an ask and I'll let you know if I'm down or not. If I reject anything please don't take it personally, usually it's just 'cause I cant think of a cohesive story.

Why am I writing?

as of now, I'm working on getting a diagnosis for an autoimmune disorder that's made me consistently bed-bound or chair-bound. Writing helps me work my brain and keeps me sane as of now.

What wont you write?

I feel like most of this is more of a common sense type of thing. I don't care if you send me an ask that's weird, but anything like incest, race play, and other more extreme topics within that realm I am unequipped to talk about with the nuance that I hope my work has.

Also, I also feel like this goes without saying but do not use ANY of my work for ANY type of AI fuel. I might find robots hot but I sure don’t find generative AI and the destruction it’s causing the poorest of us.

No, I will not budge on this issue. It is a morality issue for me.

Basic introduction?

I'm a 19 year-old college student going into Vet Med a little late. I use he/they/she pronouns and use the name Talis or Tal online pretty often. I use a cane for my autoimmune disorder. I love horror games, retro videogames, and playing Dungeons & Dragons with my buddies from high school.

I've done some light fanfiction writing in the past when I was in high school, so I'm decently experienced. If you have any questions please feel free to ask me. Most likely come the end of September I will be burnt out from school, so I hope I can maybe keep up with the schedule I'm creating for myself. I plan on posting once or twice a week minus drabbles, those will just be whenever the inspiration hits. Soon I will also create a master list of all of my works once I've made enough to warrant it,

[morscordiss]

Clandestine

hey irls if you saw this no you didn't lol.

Pairings: Monk!Ramattra x gn!reader Genre: fluff(?), angst if you squint hard enough, NSFW/smut

MDNI

Reading time: Roughly 20 minutes Word count: 5.3k Warnings: use of religious language & otherwise very sacrilegious Synopsis: You're at the monastery to study the rise in Buddhism amongst omnics and take your time to truly appreciate the cold stone walls full of art in Shambali. One late night while you couldn't sleep, you found yourself in the monastery's archives in which you find a particularly tall omnic. Extra: Multiple chapters but decided to put it all into one post because I wrote this all within two days, so why wait? Smut only in chap 3, end of chap 2 suggestive only.

Inspired by: Ghost, Square Hammer & Talk, Hozier

Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67201864

Chapter One, The Archives

Slowly wandering around the Shambali Temple late at night was a true gift. The stone walls of the religious site are quiet in the face of the night, barely a sound by the time you usually look around and take time out of your day to clear your thoughts. 

This was your third day of sightseeing late at night. You were invited to the temple to experience the beauty and peace that the Iris gives those willing to listen.

The room you stayed in was fine, simple, and comfortable. Perfect for many of the monks at the temple. But because they didn’t expect many visitors of flesh and blood, it lacked some of the luxuries you’d be accustomed to, like a sleepable bed. 

Maybe you should’ve communicated that with Mondatta at the start of your second day here, but he’d become busy quickly- the perks of being a religious figure.

The intricate carvings and tapestries draped across the walls were beautiful. Woven and painted by the monks themselves, every piece tells a story. The awakening of Aurora was painted and chiseled into the very soul of the temple. It was overwhelmingly beautiful and overwhelmingly human. 

The raw devotion you saw day to day in this place was awe-inspiring. But you’d noticed many other things that depicted that raw emotion within the Shambali Monastery. 

Two monks of the mission stood out to you. The first is a monk named Zenyatta, who is full of young energy and has a heart of pure gold. Positive and wise beyond his years- he took the most after Master Mondatta to you. 

Peace was something he truly believed could happen and would take any beating if that meant helping another. Sometimes, his views seemed a bit naïve- but otherwise he was well grounded.

The second monk that stood out to you was a R-7000 Ravager who took the name of Ramattra. He was larger than all of the other omnic monks at the temple. He had experienced true suffering after his awakening and had quite the chip on his shoulder from it. He stayed far away from you, but why would you press him on his discomfort? 

You weren’t even able to get close to him like that. From what Zenyatta described of his viewpoint, he was more grounded in the harsh reality around him, even if that made him jaded, cynical, and otherwise withdrawn from you.

You were finally removed from the circular motion of your thoughts, finding yourself in a very large room full of dim lighting and bookshelves. You’ve just entered the Shambali archives. There, you saw a large omnic still wearing his robes, scanning a text. His optics quickly found you at the entrance of the library before turning away, faceplate still dug into the ancient text. 

He did not greet you or otherwise acknowledge your presence. 

Most of the monks in the monastery welcomed you with open arms and would greet you- but not Ramattra.

You stood in the entrance way for a bit, scanning the room and Ramattra with your eyes as the seemingly infinite piles of books littered the area. There was a desk that had a couple of books on it, and a small light above. You assumed that’s where Ramattra had been keeping himself busy for the last couple of hours instead of retiring to his room for the night.

“This is the archives. I would’ve thought you’d know where your room was after a day but clearly I made a miscalculation.” 

His venom shot at you quickly, he assumed you would’ve left shortly after he gave you the perfect example of ‘go away, I’m going to ignore you now’ body language. His voice rasped a bit in sarcasm, the lower tone making static buzz from his voice box.

“My apologies, I prefer looking around the monastery when it’s quiet. It’s much easier to enjoy the art when it’s quiet and I don’t risk interrupting any ceremonies.”

It’s quick and gets to the point. No need to be rude to someone who’s housing you for the time being. Even if it did get under your skin, the other two times he’s spoken to you have been of a similar caliber. It still hurts, though.

He seemed to nod in acknowledgment, optics once again scanning you before setting the text down in his study corner. He then finally decided to talk to you alone for the first time in all of your visit. 

“Why did you decide to come here? To make us uncomfortable? It seems your kind makes it their personal vocation.” 

He’s large and imposing, the LEDs on his forehead glowing in the dim light, even covering your face in a light red hue. 

“I’m completely willing to leave you if that’s what you want from me,” 

You step back a little, enough to reclaim some of your personal space. His intimidation is slightly working on you. But, in all you strive to be as professional as possible.

“That wasn’t my question, but I appreciate the offer. But I’d rather you answer my inquiries instead of dancing around them. Why are you here?”

He was brimming with arrogance.

Of course, you can’t just politely side-swipe his questions. 

Of course, it just so happens to be a nasty confrontation late at night when many of the monks are in deep prayer or sleep mode.

 You always have the best of luck when it comes to situations like this. 

He spoke to you like you had just opened your eyes to the ugliness of the world. Your grip tightens in your pockets as you take a deep breath and answer him:

“I’m here to study and write. Most people don’t get an opportunity to see such a large religious movement happen in their lifetimes so I wanted to document as much as I could from an outsider's perspective.”

Simple, respectful, surely an appropriate answer right? You weren’t lying at all. You weren’t dressing your speech up to sound important or enlightened, and best of all maybe this would show him that you aren’t miserable to be around so you can at least greet each other while the sun is up?

“Why would a human have such a close eye on an omnic form of religion?”

This time he was serious, not insulting you at all, and genuinely sincere. He did have a point though, because most of the humans around the Shambali monastery weren’t interested in anything other than violence against the omnics who inhabited the temple. You’d heard of the hate crimes happening from anti-omnic hate groups around the monastery for a couple of months now.

“I’m a scholar, I specifically study religion and how it affects the people and the world. That’s why I couldn’t ignore the invitation from Master Mondatta.”

Your reply seemed to make the omnic feel less tense, the servos in his shoulders loosening at the answer. He must’ve been just looking out for the safety of the other monks and himself. A gesture that showed the love he had for the omnics around him.

“I see. That is a respectable profession.”

The small bit of approval made you so relieved, it’s much easier to study when you’re not so on edge. You slowly relax just like he has, relieved at the acceptance, respect, and lack of hostile behavior from him.

A short, and small meeting that just so happened to be at night. The stars above are the only thing watching you two quietly talk light philosophy together, sharing some beliefs, surface-level hardships, and memories of fonder times. 

Ramattra is extremely intelligent, very aware of the social constructs binding him and his people like a constrictor to certain roles or beliefs. He is a wonderful conversationalist to someone like you who is very interested in his unique perspective inside the monastery. 

But none of your conversation truly encompasses any heavy topic- just references to how the real world is.

“Would you mind meeting here again? You’re a very good conversationalist.”

The question rings in the air for a moment as you almost stop breathing. A second goes by before Ramattra slowly answers

“I do not mind, you seem to be… open to some of my thoughts.”

Ramattra keeps it brief, his voice calm. He doesn’t get the opportunity to talk to a scholar every day and you intrigue him. You can hold an intellectual conversation and you also don’t hold many human assumptions against him as if they were written within the stone of the monastery itself. That is relieving.

You slowly leave the archives, waving a polite goodbye to your new acquaintance as he gives you a polite nod. You continue to look around the chiseled walls of the monastery, the intricate woven tapestries with brilliant woolen thread hanging from the walls, the metallic decoration all across the building’s exterior and interior. 

It’s a beautiful sight, and the stars above add a bit of extra light to the otherwise dim hallways.  You finally make it to your room before going to sleep. But you continue to think about your meeting with him.

Chapter Two, Talk

Multiple days have gone by since you first met Ramattra in the archive. As of tonight, it has been your fourth time talking with him in the archives past ten at night. You two have embraced the late-night meetings, even if he still treats you as he did before during the daytime. 

You decide against asking him about it, because if he didn’t like talking to you he would’ve stopped showing up at the archives so late at night.

Tonight in particular, you’re excited to see Ramattra. During the light you were able to catch Zenyatta and talked to him about his relationship to Ramattra and what got them to be so close, It turns out that Ramattra is the reason Zenyatta is a monk in the first place and that alone is inspiring to you.

Sadly, you couldn’t talk to Zenyatta all day because of his duties but you did catch him eyeing Ramattra after your conversation. Hopefully, you didn’t set him up for any awkward conversations, or maybe he could finally let go of his pride and treat you like he does during your private meetings.

You’re back in the hallway that leads to the monastery’s archives again, but this time you can’t seem to focus on your surroundings like you’ve done in the days before. The door seemed nearly foreboding, light seeping out of the door frame. At least you knew Ramattra was there.

As you enter, you’re met by the sight of Ramattra already sitting at your table, he has a glass of tea for you hot and ready, and has already moved his books to the side to give you space to rest your arms.

“Greetings, I hope you are well.”

He bows his head slightly to your entrance as you slide into your regular seat with him. You smile as you sit beside him and take a sip of your freshly brewed tea.

“Hello Ramattra, I’m good- how are you today?”

The warm drink swirls around in the cup before you, the scent of herbs and honey the only thing other than old dusty times within the archives. Ramattra is relaxed, his staff propped up against the wall beside him.

“I am also well, it’s lovely to see you again.”

Ramattra’s head bowed slightly to you and he watched you slowly sip the tea he brought for you. He remembered the type of tea you like after he asked you the day before but took it upon himself to add a little bit of honey for the colder nights in the monastery.

“Any particular topics you want to go over today? I know you mentioned some interest in the Abrahamic mythos yesterday, right?”

The omnic nodded, folding his hands on the table before you.

“Yes, the story of Lucifer was specifically interesting to me, Could you tell me more about it?”

This night in particular talked about heavier Christian myths of Lucifer and jumped around to Dante’s Inferno more than once. Ramattra’s dissection of the multiple texts proved to be thought-provoking.

You two both spoke about hypotheticals and then more about the many layers of Hell that Dante described within his multiple books- which also got many questions and critiques from Ramattra.

But, you two both circled back to the conversation of fate, freedom, and liberation, and how that tied to the story of Lucifer’s fall. Ramattra just couldn’t let the story go and wanted to continue to contemplate the ancient tragedy.

“He never truly had any freedom; his entire existence was fated from the beginning. How did he betray God if it was his purpose to betray and fall? Why was he punished for doing what he was made to do?”

Ramattra rambled on and on, you added quips in between his arguments, analysis, and critiques. This conversation in particular was more passionate on Ramattra’s end than anything else you’ve seen from him.

Maybe he sees a similarity between the Christian devil and himself, that’s the only reason you could think of why he was so overzealous about the analysis of the story.

Hours passed while you two spoke, but you’re only human and the cold fingers of exhaustion gripped your mind, your eyes finally heavy for the night.

“I’m sorry Ramattra, I’m just getting really tired- can we call it here for the night?”

He stopped speaking before slowly nodding in understanding. Honestly, he should’ve kept more track of time but he just loved being listened to and found your insights enthralling. But, sadly you were only human and still had to sleep- ‘poor design’ he thought, ‘poor optimization.’

You stood up from your seat and shuffled behind Ramattra, listening to the quiet hum of his fans get a little louder. You took note of his reaction to you just from getting a little closer than usual.

He stood up after you, following you to the door. The sound of his footfalls was heavy but graceful against the cold stone floors- the intricate designs seemingly rippling away from him.

You waved your goodbyes, and finally turned away from him but right before you stepped out of the archives for the night-

Ramattra grabs your arm lightly, his optics staring right at you. He’s so close that you can feel the warmth of his LEDs on your face.

“I would like to see you under different circumstances tomorrow night. I wish for you to teach me about the forms of worship you study.”

You nod in understanding. That’s easy enough because that is your job at this point. Of course, you could teach him about other religions across time but you’d think he’d already have a comparative understanding in his memory already.

“I don’t believe I said that correctly, What I meant was-“

His voice anchored you to the ground.

“I yearn for you to worship me.” 

There is suddenly no sound in the room at all other than the heavy beating of your heart right in your eardrums and the sound of his fans whirring.

His hands take yours as you are blown away by his bold showing of affection. But, you are still silent.

“Come here tomorrow if you wish to indulge my curiosity for you. But for tonight, think about my proposal.” 

He finally lets go of your hands after bringing one to his faceplate. There’s a quick vibration that came from it, seemingly a kiss.

He then gives you a polite bow and finally leaves you alone. You finally let out a sigh of relief. You wait until Ramattra is completely out of the hallway and you have no possible way to run into him again as you quickly and quietly scurry down the hallway, the pattern on the stone floor a blur as you shut yourself into your room and rub your eyes and try to wake up from this asinine dream. 

The last thing you think of is the sound of his voice against your ear before you have a nearly sleepless night.

…

Ramattra walks as calmly as he can back to his quarters. He has either made an amazing proposition or made the biggest mistake in his life.

He didn’t know why he’d been thinking about you so often- maybe it was because you didn’t seem so scared of him because of what he is.

Maybe it’s because you could hold an intellectual conversation with him and didn’t push away his ideas even if they were admittedly, radical.

Maybe, he just wanted to see you under him. To explore his own repressed desires and yearnings. It didn’t even need to be an emotional affair, he told himself, it could just be a quick tryst and you can go back to talking in the archives late like nothing happened.

His rash and utterly impulsive decision to tell you about his feelings had left his body and mind buzzing, By the Iris he couldn’t even sit down with how much extra energy his body was creating. 

He’s notorious for being awful with words during stressful situations which is why he’s started logging what he wants to say before he says it- this is something he should’ve logged before stepping into the archives that night.

Ignoring some errors popping up in his mind, he decided to go through the last two times you both had spoken to each other within his memory. His coolant finally caught up to the amount of kinetic energy he was giving off.

So his form of sleep for the night would just be looking at you, and listening to you talk.

Chapter Three, Worship*

You came to see Ramattra tonight in the archives again, once again meeting him under the cover of night during a quiet night. Your feet feel heavy as you finally make it to the archives where he is waiting, no longer admiring the Buddhist art all around the hallway you just walked through. Your eyes are completely on the door as you slowly open it to see

Nothing. 

He doesn’t seem to be here. 

He is usually here, waiting for you.

It’s an unwelcome surprise. You waited for hours just to see him again. 

So why would he now finally leave you?

 He could just fucking with you… Or maybe something came up?

“Greetings, my apologies for being late. I was just making sure I was… prepared for the evening.”

You nearly jump out of your skin. He isn’t even remotely quiet so how did he sneak up on you? Were you so encompassed in your thoughts that you couldn’t even hear the ravager walking down the same hallway you did? Your head was high up in the clouds.

Ramattra was close, his robes in their normal state. His faceplate was no different but he had a different aura about him, like a man on a mission. His optics danced over you quickly before settling back on your face.

“And have you thought of my proposal? I will take any answer you give me.”

He steps before you, patient but excited. You can hear the whirring of his fans more than usual. Maybe he’s nervous.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Simple, effective, and quick. But not as quick as Ramattra was to feel you.

His hands are on you quickly, and the instant the metal touches your waist you’re hit with the true coldness of his alloy against you, his servos working overtime, his fans nearly purring, and his optics scanning you like you’re made out of marble. The contrast of how warm the insides of his palms are compared to his fingers surprises you.

Ramattra is full of passion and has been for a very long time. He is intimidating, devoted, intellectual, and arrogant. But as of now, his hands are running along your waist. His fingers mushing into your sides, molding you out of clay like Prometheus did for mankind, worshipping you like he’s ready to crawl down to the underworld for you like Orpheus.

He finally kneels before you in such reverence that you would’ve thought you were the most beautifully sculpted idol.

His hands snake up your sides as he slides them up to right under your chest before bowing his head before you.

“You feel divine under me.”

His words are quiet, full of light static, and from deep within his voice box. He slowly tugs you down to his level, so you are on your knees and burrows his faceplate into your neck, a quick vibration coming from his forehead- his way of kissing you. He moves his faceplate around your upper body and face, drowning you in his affection before he finally speaks again.

“I can feel your heart rate and temperature rising…” he murmurs into your skin

“I’m glad you’re indulging in my fantasies.”

He gets off the floor, leaving you on your knees before him. He is ominous. He is an omen before you. Intimidating, impossible to feat, and beautiful.

“Can you worship your God?”

His hand now lies on your head as he closes the space between you. As he says this, steam rolls off his back.

“Our secret rendezvous… a tryst between lovers…

 And soon you’ll wish for more than these clandestine encounters.”

You’re still looking up at him. The monk with a beautiful halo of light above him from one of the archives’ lights still on and with the steam still coming out of him he looked ethereal- like the devil himself. 

His hand guides your chin up and you look dazed into his optics as he chuckles, the sound deep coming from within his chassis. 

You’re pulled to him like he is the moon and you’re the ocean, nearly magnetized by his presence alone. His chassis is hot, his hands are hot, and one of his cables is now draped in front of him. His dishevelment spurs you to finally act.

Your hands explore his chest first, feeling his alloy and moving his robes to get better access to his body. A sigh escapes you as you remove the lighter colored scarf that’s tied around his waist and slowly unravel it and lay it beside you. You tug at his chest plate to have him kneel before you and he quickly gets the memo- kneeling before you as you spread kisses along his chassis, dragging your lips along the alloy of his collar-plate and down his arms, kissing his fingers one-by-one.

Ramattra doesn’t feel the need to verbally express his pleasure because his fans sound like they’re going to lift him off the floor. Quiet static still escapes him though. He quickly ignores the warnings about his rising temperature.

Relishing in the sight of you bowed before him, your eyes wide staring at him through thick lashes, and looking to him to guide you-

He never realized just how much this electrified him. The power he held over you was intoxicating.

He never realized just how much he truly liked being treated like he was divine.

“You look sublime below me…”

His voice roils with the power of an imploding star, his voice booming in your head like the Abrahamic God speaking from the burning bush to Moses. He lights a pure white flame within your soul. His hands start to tug on your shirt and he quickly takes it off of you.

“If you do not stop me now, your fate will be inevitable, but be my prophet, and I shall make your body into my shrine.”

He commands you like Poseidon commands the typhoons of Greece- and you follow his every order earnestly and with the voracious strength of a hurricane. You whisper a “yes” to him and he becomes even more handsy with you, dragging his fingers down your spine and pressing his hands against the indent of your lower back, forcing you even more into his body.

“Now then, I will splay you out like a true offering to the Gods.”

He is as beautiful as the fallen angel Lucifer, manipulating your thoughts with his silky voice. His beauty is enamoring and clawing at you to sin to stay within his grasp forever. The only thought left in your head is how you could please him.

He then pushed you on your back and completely caged you in. His large body being perfect for the task, his cables now fell around your head. While drenched in the red light of his LEDs, Ramattra removed his tunic- leaving his pants on. His bare chest had gold detailing which your hands traced. 

He finally grabbed the waist of your pants and tugged them off with your help, a satisfied grunt coming from the man above you.

Without much of a warning, Ramattra grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs over your head, forcing you into a salacious pose- you didn’t get much time to stretch for this anyway… but he didn’t seem to care.

“You will give me everything you have.”

His demands bordered on profane but what could you say as you were spread out nearly bare to him? He was so dominant with you now- overwhelmed with the contact and thought of ravaging you.

He did think about ripping your underwear off of you and spent an embarrassing amount of processing power on whether he should or shouldn’t- but after seeing your legs over your head he just had to.

The rip of your underwear tears through the room along with your sharp gasp and Ramattra stops right after, his optics taking in the sight of you.

Metal hands grab your jaw and press cold fingers against your mouth. His fingers soon press down on your tongue as you swirl and suck his fingers- the static is louder than before and he chuckles.

“Good. You obey me well.”

His fingers leave your mouth with a string of saliva still on them, trailing down your body before he traces in between your thighs. He doesn’t waste any time.

One digit enters you slowly, his fingers are thick and his hands are large. While he slowly fucks you, his other hand rests besides your head as he finally cages you back into him.

Your quiet gasps and whines fill the room, everything is hazy now other than Ramattra. His hand moves slowly and with purpose. Even now he is reluctant to give you much. He can tell you’re growing restless while you can tell he’s getting cocky.

“If you want more from me, you must beg.”

He sneers from above you while lewd sounds still permeate the air. You have enough room to grab his wrist and milk this moment for all that it’s worth and hopefully get what you want at the same time.

“Corrupt me, Ramattra. Make me look like how your fantasies did.”

His movement stopped, his fans nearly pouring heat out of him before he removed his finger, and then added two more.

His thrusts are much faster now and he presses himself against you like an animal. Your surprised moans fuel his desire to scourge you. He’d make sure to keep this moment saved in a special file in his memory just so he could remember the sight of you.

You could handle one finger before but three? And at the pace he set? You were bound to come undone before him in a matter of minutes.

His fingers were long, thick, and the pace would easily leave you bruised and sensitive for a while afterwards. Shortly, you felt the arousal in your belly start to build like white-hot energy. 

Ramattra could also tell, even if you weren’t panting like an animal in heat. Your heart rate was skyrocketing and he was going to bleed you dry.

If you weren’t already close, his fingers starting to vibrate inside of you changed that. Such a demanding pace, with such thick and long fingers, and now vibrating against gummy walls had you tumbling down your orgasm fast- a loud moan of Ramattra’s name the last thing you said before you saw stars.

When he saw you cum from such a vulgar position he finally understood those who sook out pleasure. Your body had a sheen layer of sweat that made you look radiant, your body shivering like you’d just been reborn and it was all from him. Your seraphic form in such a devilish pose made his mind nearly overload.

But he did not let up the pace. His voice box made a sound similar to a shaky breath as he continued past your first orgasm, fucking you easily into overstimulation.

Once you realized that he truly wasn’t willing to stop at one orgasm, you had to hold on to his chassis like your life depended on it. 

His chest plate finally opened before you, many wires and steam before you. Ramattra spoke quietly to you-

“Pick a wire and pull it taught- if you’re lucky it should force me to reboot.”

His voice was breathy and he didn’t have enough hands to direct your hands for himself, and allowed to pleasure him you easily followed his instructions.

Haphazardly grabbing a small handful of wires and pulling, you forced a sharp groan from above you and he slowed down his finger-fucking. His response egged you on as you continued to manhandle his wires

His vision was clouding up with warnings from his essential systems which he quickly closed to focus on you. He could feel himself losing some control- but that was expected. He felt you feeling around in his chest cavity before you grabbed a particularly sensitive wire and pulled.

The sound you heard in return was divine.

A long, deep moan full of static stuttered out of his voice box and his head fell, his hands stuttering inside of you. His first failsafe was overloaded quickly and was sent to his second he was close and he could tell you were too.

“Cum only when I say so.”

He was cutting out every other word, his overheating finally making him glitch and with the rest of your brain power, you grabbed your last remaining wires and twisted them in between your fingers.

Ramattra released a groan before bringing his head to meet you, his optics laying on your eyes once again as he sped up his fingers and rested his faceplate on your forehead.

“Now.”

You yanked hard on his wires as you both came- your legs shook wildly while his entire body shook. Moans filled the quiet night before the lights on Ramattra’s head went dark for a second

Ramattra’s second failsafe was easily overwhelmed by you, his entire body shutting down and forcefully rebooting. Within three minutes he was back awake, the red LEDs on his forehead igniting as his optics refocused on your fucked-out form sweaty, and your lower body drenched in your spend.

He slowly removed his fingers from you and sat back up, taking your hand and sitting you up into him after you set your legs down. Your hips burn from the intensity. He wipes his fingers onto his pants and helps you redress- minus your destroyed underwear.

You both didn’t say much after. He wrapped his scarf around you and sat with you as you both recovered though, he was sweet and stayed without being asked.

“I enjoyed our time together… and I hope we can do this again.”

You shouldn’t be shocked that a faux god wouldn’t want to let go of such a keen follower. Especially one so devoted to the cause.

[morscordiss]

bitches love me for my deeply tragic yearning concealed with boyish mischief