Check out the Overwatch OC/Yume Ship Server community on Discord â hang out with 12 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.
°â˘ââMasterlistâââ˘Â°
Full works
°â˘ââTagsâââ˘Â°
Jailbird jabbers - not related content/just talking
Jailbird polls - polls
Spicyrat - N/SFW Posts/thoughts
°â˘ââCurrent Prompt Listâââ˘Â°
My overwatch bio and RULES below
°â˘ââRulesâââ˘Â°
1. You can request up to 3 chars at a time for headcanons. 1 for drabble/fic
2. All my readers are gender neutral and if I write notsafe fw its mostly genderlessly written. If otherwise I will always state.
3. I do write yandere and dead dove content. Will be tagged.
4. I will not write daddy/mommy kink. Age play, minors, anything racist or homophobic/transphobic etc. No form of pregnancy nor anything with anyone having children.
5. I'm 99% kink friendly.
6. I won't reply to requests that don't have a please or thank you.
7. I will only write for the following characters as of (Mar 4th 2026)
I write for the following
Ana
Ashe
Baptiste
Cassidy
Domina
Emre
Hanzo
Hazard
Junkrat
Lucio
Mauga
Moira
Mizuki
Ramattra
Reaper
Roadhog
Sigma
Sombra
Symmetra
Zenyatta
There are characters I want to write for I just need to learn their canon a little more.
Note: Please be gentle with me and lore/canon. I have not been active in overwatch fandom/writing since 2020. I am doing my best with my ADHD memory brain âď¸
I am proship - I ship canon characters with one another. Love OCs and selfships. Come chat at me about these things <3
°â˘ââMoreâââ˘Â°
I'm LGBT+, chronically ill and chronically chill. ADHD haver. European. Crafter, writer, coffee consumer. Closer to 40 than 30. I have learning disabilities that I have damn well tried to overcome but I do struggle with grammar and spelling no matter what spellchecker I use but I'm doing my best.
I'm married. I actually met my wife via the first time I wrote overwatch fanfiction hahaha.
Hello! I'm working on a resource for artists who sell at conventions & market stalls, if you have a moment, please fill out this form!
Any shares, reposts, social media posts, or forwards of this message are also greatly appreciated, thank you so much! :)
I've not written in like 6 months due to medical stuff but I am actually very proud of this one. Crackship, I know. Chap one is up.
Ship: Shion/Emre [TigerAi?]
Chapters: 1/?
SFW
Read on AO3 if you prefer
---
Neon Junction was bright, too bright. He leaned against the wall, scowling at the wet pavement; the puddles reflected the gaudy lights, bathing everything in a sickly palette of blues, pinks, and purples. Too bright, he thought again as he adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders. The rain brought the biting cold and it seeped into the joints of his body, the scars left by his modifications.Â
Emre had decided this wasn't the place for him. The city charged with electricity, never pausing, never sleeping and it made him feel every inch of the exhaustion in his bones.Â
The job of a dutiful dog of Vendetta meant whatever choices the system within him didn't take, she did. He sighed a shaky breath as he looked into the sky, no stars hung in the inky expanse, snuffed out by the light pollution, he felt something deeply ironic at that thought; he could relate.
Vendetta had wanted a bodyguard while meeting with the leader of the Hashimoto, he wished heâd been joined by Frej, but she was needed elsewhere. Emre had a feeling there was a ploy to keep them apart as much as possible, though he couldn't prove it and what if he could? It wasnât like Talon had a HR department that would deal with his grievances; others barely in his direction. His so-called teammates simply saw him as a machine that still thought of itself as human.
He watched as the rain started up again, drops falling from the cloudless sky, splashing in the puddles from before, causing the reflected lights to shapeshift into neon oilspill. He glared as he felt the cold pin pricks on his skin, rolling down his cheeks like tears heâd forgotten he could shed.
Emre headed inside, hopefully the boss lady was finished and they could return to their less sickly coloured base. At least Talon red suited him. He chuckled bitterly at his own joke. After all, it was better to laugh than to cry, right?
â
Shion was as sharp as she looked, those eyes scanned over everything that had the misfortune of catching her attention, which happened to be Emre at this moment. The way he dragged his feet, his downcast gaze as the glowing eye on his chest looked around, meeting her gaze. Emre looked up and saw the woman, the omnic who wore the mask of a beauty. Not his type, but he couldnât deny she was stunning.
Emre had never held the same dislike of omics as some of his former teammates. Sometimes Frejâs reaction to them made him feel disgusted at himself. The fear that perhaps deep down she felt the same hate towards him, he was the same sort of monster on paper as any of those âbotsâ during the crisis.Â
Heâd always been better at seeing the grey areas in life than she had. With the blood on his hands, he could hardly judge anyone anymore. No better than those he promised to protect people from.
Emre was brought out of his thoughts when the crisp click clack of heels pricked his ears, Chernobog forcing him to focus on the omnic as she walked, no, sauntered over to him. The way he painted lips pulled into a smirk, her eyes whirling and calibrating as she examined him.
âWell, well, arenât you the most fascinating specimen of what Talon has to offer?â Her voice was a purr, her throat lighting up red as she spoke. Her words came out in a purr despite the clearly robotic feedback that tinged her sultry tone.Â
Emre knew he was a flirt, heâd been told off for it back in his youth, his overwatch rookie days and even now he knew he couldnât help himself with Feja. But heâd never been into this brand of flirting, the obvious hunger of a predator sizing up its prey. The way the omnic with the horns acted every bit of the devil she looked as her lips curled into something darker. She wanted to watch the world burn, ever squirming, whimpering, scream of agony at a time.
She didnât want to own or claim. She wanted to play with her toys until they broke into pieces at her hands. And he wasnât going to play that game. Heâd be the first to admit his self-preservation was at an all-time low, but he wouldn't step into the jaws of disaster this way.
âIs the boss ready to leave?â he asked, keeping his voice level, he didnât want to piss her off or welcome whatever game she was offering him a turn in.
âAww, are you that desperate to leave?â She tilted her head to one side, the grin never shifting as her eyes glowed to match her voice patterns. She moved closer with the elegance of a tiger stalking its prey.
âWe all have work to do,â
Shion giggled, unsettling with her unmoving lips, the sound never reaching those eyes that bore into his. How could eyes so inhuman reach so deep? He swallowed as she moved closer, a hand on his chest, over the glass of the ever-watching eye. âăăăç§ăŽăăłăľă ăŞćŻĺâ (Oh, my handsome boy.) She giggled again and traced the edge of his chest plate.
Emre grimaced as Chernbog translated the language he didnât know, relaying it through their shared circuits. The wires like a second set of veins, burning within himself.
âDidnât anyone ever tell you that work can be fun?â That same clawing tone, altogether too fake, as if designed to be what a man wanted to hear. How many people had this worked on? How many people would drop to their knees for her? A fly waiting for the trap's jaws to close, snuffing out its life.
Emre looked up at her, the way she looked down her perfect nose with eyes glowing dangerously, waiting for his next move. Emre took her hand into his own, pulling it from his chest. âMaybe another time,â he said as the sound of Vendetta clearing her throat split the tense air of a machine pretending to be human and a human who was more machine than anything.Â
I made a bunch of colorful cocktails to raise a glass to Pride Month đšIf youâd like to grab these little drinks for your icon, wallpaper, header, or any other corner of the internet, please do!
And if youâd like a piece thatâs uniquely yours and raise your cup for your friends or chosen family,you can find my Ko-fi and VGen through the links in my pinned post or bio! When this post reaches 50 reposts, Iâll draw a giant omnic beach party featuring every omnic hero in July đ¤đď¸âąď¸
Hi! I see that you have a ocxcanon overwatch server and was wondering if it was okay for a 17 turning 18 (this year) year old to join? If not that's totally okay! đĽš
Sadly we have a strict rule for 18 upwards. You are more than welcome to join when 18!
I've not written in like 6 months due to medical stuff but I am actually very proud of this one. Crackship, I know. Chap one is up.
Ship: Shion/Emre [TigerAi?]
Chapters: 1/?
SFW
Read on AO3 if you prefer
---
Neon Junction was bright, too bright. He leaned against the wall, scowling at the wet pavement; the puddles reflected the gaudy lights, bathing everything in a sickly palette of blues, pinks, and purples. Too bright, he thought again as he adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders. The rain brought the biting cold and it seeped into the joints of his body, the scars left by his modifications.Â
Emre had decided this wasn't the place for him. The city charged with electricity, never pausing, never sleeping and it made him feel every inch of the exhaustion in his bones.Â
The job of a dutiful dog of Vendetta meant whatever choices the system within him didn't take, she did. He sighed a shaky breath as he looked into the sky, no stars hung in the inky expanse, snuffed out by the light pollution, he felt something deeply ironic at that thought; he could relate.
Vendetta had wanted a bodyguard while meeting with the leader of the Hashimoto, he wished heâd been joined by Frej, but she was needed elsewhere. Emre had a feeling there was a ploy to keep them apart as much as possible, though he couldn't prove it and what if he could? It wasnât like Talon had a HR department that would deal with his grievances; others barely in his direction. His so-called teammates simply saw him as a machine that still thought of itself as human.
He watched as the rain started up again, drops falling from the cloudless sky, splashing in the puddles from before, causing the reflected lights to shapeshift into neon oilspill. He glared as he felt the cold pin pricks on his skin, rolling down his cheeks like tears heâd forgotten he could shed.
Emre headed inside, hopefully the boss lady was finished and they could return to their less sickly coloured base. At least Talon red suited him. He chuckled bitterly at his own joke. After all, it was better to laugh than to cry, right?
â
Shion was as sharp as she looked, those eyes scanned over everything that had the misfortune of catching her attention, which happened to be Emre at this moment. The way he dragged his feet, his downcast gaze as the glowing eye on his chest looked around, meeting her gaze. Emre looked up and saw the woman, the omnic who wore the mask of a beauty. Not his type, but he couldnât deny she was stunning.
Emre had never held the same dislike of omics as some of his former teammates. Sometimes Frejâs reaction to them made him feel disgusted at himself. The fear that perhaps deep down she felt the same hate towards him, he was the same sort of monster on paper as any of those âbotsâ during the crisis.Â
Heâd always been better at seeing the grey areas in life than she had. With the blood on his hands, he could hardly judge anyone anymore. No better than those he promised to protect people from.
Emre was brought out of his thoughts when the crisp click clack of heels pricked his ears, Chernobog forcing him to focus on the omnic as she walked, no, sauntered over to him. The way he painted lips pulled into a smirk, her eyes whirling and calibrating as she examined him.
âWell, well, arenât you the most fascinating specimen of what Talon has to offer?â Her voice was a purr, her throat lighting up red as she spoke. Her words came out in a purr despite the clearly robotic feedback that tinged her sultry tone.Â
Emre knew he was a flirt, heâd been told off for it back in his youth, his overwatch rookie days and even now he knew he couldnât help himself with Feja. But heâd never been into this brand of flirting, the obvious hunger of a predator sizing up its prey. The way the omnic with the horns acted every bit of the devil she looked as her lips curled into something darker. She wanted to watch the world burn, ever squirming, whimpering, scream of agony at a time.
She didnât want to own or claim. She wanted to play with her toys until they broke into pieces at her hands. And he wasnât going to play that game. Heâd be the first to admit his self-preservation was at an all-time low, but he wouldn't step into the jaws of disaster this way.
âIs the boss ready to leave?â he asked, keeping his voice level, he didnât want to piss her off or welcome whatever game she was offering him a turn in.
âAww, are you that desperate to leave?â She tilted her head to one side, the grin never shifting as her eyes glowed to match her voice patterns. She moved closer with the elegance of a tiger stalking its prey.
âWe all have work to do,â
Shion giggled, unsettling with her unmoving lips, the sound never reaching those eyes that bore into his. How could eyes so inhuman reach so deep? He swallowed as she moved closer, a hand on his chest, over the glass of the ever-watching eye. âăăăç§ăŽăăłăľă ăŞćŻĺâ (Oh, my handsome boy.) She giggled again and traced the edge of his chest plate.
Emre grimaced as Chernbog translated the language he didnât know, relaying it through their shared circuits. The wires like a second set of veins, burning within himself.
âDidnât anyone ever tell you that work can be fun?â That same clawing tone, altogether too fake, as if designed to be what a man wanted to hear. How many people had this worked on? How many people would drop to their knees for her? A fly waiting for the trap's jaws to close, snuffing out its life.
Emre looked up at her, the way she looked down her perfect nose with eyes glowing dangerously, waiting for his next move. Emre took her hand into his own, pulling it from his chest. âMaybe another time,â he said as the sound of Vendetta clearing her throat split the tense air of a machine pretending to be human and a human who was more machine than anything.Â
