Moved To @ow-old-men

🧡 He/Him | Gabriel/Gabe 🧡 Old man enthusiast, war criminal connoisseur. No longer doing that here tho, find me over on @ow-old-men

[ow-anteater]

I’ve moved, find me on @ow-old-men

Long story short, tumblr nuked this account back in January, I remade and realised it’s actually kind of nice to have your main also be your most used blog! It’s also also nice to get a chance at a sort of ‘soft reset’, and finally make an url that makes actual sense …

So, this account will be retired, while I continue on my merry way over there!

This blog will stay as an archive of my old posts, eventually I’ll try to compile some of my faves and link them here, it’ll be fun I prommy 🙏

So yeah, go follow @ow-old-men for more of my amazing #content

Also I love you all but that should, at this point, be a given

[ow-anteater]

*puffs cheeks out* Gabe, I need you to pat my head and tell me, "Your a good healer." ;^;

*sobbing, crying, my arm fully outstretched making very shaky contact with the back of your head* you- yo- you're doing good

[sailorbrazil]

Iphs mygh bothrday

[ow-anteater]

Launching my new skin pack available in the OW2 store NOW! Back To Basics! (By Which We Mean The Basic Character Concepts)

Reaper now has a big ol scythe!

Mercy has 14 eyes

Lúcio, Parah, Junkrat and Roadhog are all wearing full on fursuits

D.va’s mech looks just like the results you’d get if you told and AI to make you the gaming PC that a gen Z gamer girl and God have to begrudgingly share, complete with rainbow LEDs

[ow-anteater]

BITCH I AM BACK

[ow-anteater]

MAY THE WORLD LOOK AT YOU WITH EYES UNWAYVERINGLY KIND AND MAY YOU NEVER STOP LOOKING BACK WITH CURIOSITY I LOVE YOU ALL TO BURSTING AND BEYOND AND WE WILL MAKE IT THROUGH THIS AND MANY MORE YEARS I LIVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

[ow-anteater]

*through clenched teeth during the entire runtime of Glass Onion*: I want to chew on Daniel Craig’s tits a normal amount

[ow-anteater]

Merry crisis, still hot

He/him

[ow-anteater]

As much as I disagree with the idea that Reaper is this strikingly handsome, ‘35 at most’-looking fella under the mask, I must admit I have a special place in my heart for the idea that he looks like weirdly young under there? But more than that- it’s not a handsome, unblemished type of young. It’s freaky

It’s a symptom; his regenerative ability fighting tooth and nail to restore him to a time that in truth never really was. Layers and layers of desperation piled on top of a withering core, trying to claw its way back to a lie

He outlived his own legend and his body mirrors that. He is both his own decay and the public image of him as a gallant soldier fighting to stay alive; the war of his life still raging on his face. He is not outfight monstrous to behold but he is … uncanny. Shifting, in a state no human should be able to inhabit. It’s not that the years haven’t marked him, but he’s also being undone and reassembled all the time

As much as I adore art of him being outright monstrous, I’m just obsessed with the notion that under that mask he is surprisingly mundane. He is simply a man slipping away from himself. I adore the idea that it’s an intimate kind of horror we see on Ana’s face in that one comic; that this is the kind of grief and fear and helpless undoing only a friend would fully grasp when looking upon it

[cowpokebeetle]

haha sad gay old people

[terrible-overwatch-fan]

i've hced genji as agender and using they/them pronouns ever since i noticed their color scheme matches that of the agender flag tbh, so i would also be here for he/they genji!

Oh shoot, you're right! No wonder they have such nonbinary swag. Literally the colors. I'm so glad people are onboard for this idea.

If y'all like he/they Genji though, I feel like you also have to be onboard for @ow-anteater's they/them Brigitte. Gabe from that blog should make a post about it for me to reblog.

[ow-anteater]

Your brains- large. I will incorporate this into my belief system

They/them Brig is simply my most precious headcanon. They simply are a transfemme they/them lesbian (whose close friends sometimes uses she/her but mostly in a joking/over the top doting way) and I adore them so. Reinhard has helped them pick all of the like five-ish names they’ve tried when they came out

And if we’re talking skins and pronouns I have to mention Anna’s Bastet skin which is so incredibly nonbinary-coloured. She/they kitty cat

[ow-anteater]

Going with the assumption that most FPS players are men and defaulting to he/him pronouns for all players: boring, untrue, runs the risk of further alienating women in the gaming sphere

Defaulting to they/them pronouns for everyone of undisclosed gender: cool, neutral. Might accidentally introduce a nonbinary egg to gender euphoria

Rapidly changing pronouns for the player to match the character they’re playing: For SOME reason the only model my brain will bend to, up to and including they/theming Brig players based on a personal headcanon. To be fair, might also finally trans some tracer one-trick’s gender

[ow-anteater]

For me for me please sir can I get a Ramyatta with number 36 whatever that may be?

Coming right along good sire, #36 Heaven Sent by The Steeldrivers

Shake my head and I wonder how / I'll ever get to heaven now

Time does not treat him gently, but he is learning to do so himself.  It’s one lesson into the next like dominoes. First came the dull realization that few hands would ever touch him gently, then the wisdom to not let himself be counted among his advisaries.

“Brother, would you forgive me?” he’d asked the night sky, his voice hushed and tense. He remembers still, the first time, with Mondatta right there beside him, not in the flesh - he’s had to forcibly scrub every easy human metaphor from even his most intimate thoughts - but in something warmer and more real than that. Right there beside him to hum thoughtfully and say:

“It is not my place to do so.”

Back then, the words had welled into his chest like tar, staining even the parts of him the crisis had left unscathed. Now, the memory wells up in overwhelming clarity, the details crisp and almost searing. The thing it leaves behind now is warm and sure.

“Would you now?” he asks now, his chin tilted up so only the scant stars catch the sound. The sky is covered in dappled gray, forever clouds lit up and burning by a million lives unfolding beneath them. At times, he misses the clarity of the monastery, the serenity, the sharp cleanness of the sky just after the first snowfall. And yet he’s grown fond of this as well.

A world wrought from violence and fear yet painting the belly of the sky in a flighty, bleeding brush. His own fists shine dully, flashes red and green with the traffic lights flickering on and off right outside his window. 

The hazy monk who inhabits his memories never answers his query. It’s a step, he’s trying to convince himself, to freedom and revolution and justice. To his own apotheosis.

He hopes he gets to go gently in the end. Gently and forgiven.

Time will wither him, he can already feel it. He grows slow and blunt now that Anubis can no longer support or upkeep him. He has a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't change much even if the god program still hummed along somewhere out there. He was never meant to outlive his maker. He has much to do still, and little to atone for. 

“I will forgive me,” he tells the unblinking stars, the two brightest one that peek through the cloudlayer. A satellite spins and travels in a sinewy line over the sky; a machine shooting star to fasten a machine dream upon.

[cryptcoop]

FINALLY ! SOMEONE WITH GOOD TASTE ! 

[cryptcoop]

Who cares about biology?

Consider supporting me on Patreon!

[ow-anteater]

I need sixteen Ramattra/Doomfist fics on my desk at 7 am tomorrow SHARP. I’m being so serious about this; I need it.

Just two dudes trapped - entirely voluntarily - in a very big ‘our get along shirt’ scenario, having to work together. Desperately trying to out-scheme the other. Punching in increasingly elaborate ways to impress intimidate the other

Also like … yadda yadda Ram finding the good and tender at the heart of a brutal and genocidal human race through falling in love with a man who work to see that tenderness eradicated. Akande realising the fragility of a people doesn’t make them worthy of scorn, that trauma kneels at the heart of all violence - including his own - and that something can be both strong and achingly tender at the same time

But I mean, of course, mostly the silly stuff …

[ow-anteater]

#5 and Doomfist, if you're so inclined?

I AM SO INCLINED. Akande being the worlds worst boss coming right up, inspired by #5 The Weight by Amigo the Devil

They'll write about our story here for years to come and maybe even more

Akande very rarely goes out. Doesn’t mean he doesnt know how to do so in style. It is planned down to the smallest detail; he looks resplendent, the press knows what to report on, guests are screened sufficiently and the exits carefully mapped.

The owner of the place is sobbing through a gag in a backroom, if he isn’t passed out by now.

Gabriel is seething, Akande can sense it even from here, across the room from him. It matters not. He never had the sense for the delicacy of their project. What they’re trying to accomplish requires finesse as well as savagery. Before he recruited him to his cause, he’d hoped Reye possessed both.

He circles the room. His hand presses politely into the back of a partygoer in a red dress. It shifts and sparkles when she moves, like rippling wine in the low light. She looks up at him and immediately shifts her gaze downwards. Her eyelashes are long and midnight dark. 

“This is pointless,” Gabriel grates, suddenly appearing right beside him. Akande manages to keep it together; he had not yet turned ten when his nerves had gotten torn well enough to grow over thick and impervious. Like thick skin on war proven knuckles. He studies Gabriel, the way he falls in line with Akande’s steps effortlessly. He is keeping it together nicely, though his shoulders are raised and tense. In this light his skin almost doesn’t look grey. On a rooftop somewhere, Amélie scans over them.

“Pointless? Please.” They come to a stop right under a grand window. The crowd is shifting and vibrating. Akande can sense their collective eyes bound tight to the two of them. “It is beyond important to make an appearance.”

“I simply do not understand why you grovel for their affection.” Gabriel’s voice is strained.

Akande scoffs. “Unclench your jaw or you will add a headache to your ailments.”

He gets the sense Gabriel would have spat on him if he could. The thought amuses him. The notion that he can’t amuses him even more. It makes him soften, he turns slightly, waves a hand and explains:

“I do not require them to love me.” He swirls his glass, tips his chin up and smiles at a passing blonde. “I need them to love my purpose.”

Gabriel breathes, harsh and ragged. The closest he can come to a biting laugh in this setting. “You’re a shit liar.” He’s facing Akande’s gaze head on. Always searching for the next thing that will destroy him. “Admit you love the limelight.”

His eyes are flint and rage and despair. Akande corrects the way his suit sleeve rests over his arm. He suspects he wouldn't feel even a smidgen more powerful even if he was wearing the doomfist tonight.

“Your right,” he nods slightly. “I do find this amusing.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrow, then he barks a laugh, low and grating. “This is all a game to you.” There’s no malice or question behind, no judgment. 

“Couldn’t be further from the truth,” Akande grins. He thinks he is owed this. He allows himself to revel in this moment. He looks out over the crowd and sees only the world that he is about to reshape, the rebirth he will welcome. It’s not a game, it’s a playground. And they will never ever forget the man who crafted castles and justice and grandeur from the sand.

There is nothing he loves like this.