https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KaBu8Ot8QFA

It was an Overwatch romance that was never meant to be, that nobody asked for. Her, a pro gamer turned mech pilot with attitude. Him, a cheap Party City Halloween costume possessed by someone’s dad. Both of them controlled by cruel gamer gods with a thirst that no amount of Mountain Dew could quench.

They clasped hands (and guns) as I looked on from afar. ā€œOh, my beloved,ā€ I imagined D.Va saying as the seconds counted down to the battle that would destroy them, ā€œeven if we’re separated—or… worse—we’ll never be apart. I’ll always be with you in the vacuous pit of contrived darkness and 1980s Metallica tracks you call a heart.ā€

For what felt like an eternity despite being a sliver space between seconds—perhaps because they’d only known each other for about one minute—Reaper stared into D.Va’s mech suit. He took a deep breath as if to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. He said nothing even as D.Va’s expectant eyes beckoned him. Finally, he spoke:

ā€œMy ultimate is charging. My ultimate is charging. My ultimate is charging.ā€

It was all she needed to hear.

Until she realized he was maybe talking about his erection.

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