#also by 'on the verge: i simply mean that i have permanent knot in my back from stress rn. and it's making me feel things

[welcometogrouchland]

Kind of on the verge right now. You guys want silly comics?

[ljbrary]

Sicktember Day Three: Chicken Pox

uhhhh yes i know im late sue me 

just kidding please dont

aNYway ive already lasted longer than i thought i would doing this so i count this as a win

link to ao3 :)

from this list of prompts

Day Three: Chicken Pox

Title: i’ll watch over you (but who will watch over me?)

Word Count: 1207

...

Obi-Wan Kenobi left the Jedi Temple as a padawan with a master, and came back as a master with a padawan… minus a master. (That small little addendum turned out to be just like the little stones that dig into hands when one falls — it cuts deep enough to draw blood. And, well, perhaps that was a bit of a simplification, but Obi-Wan would rather deal with blood and bruises than the deep ache eating at his heart.)

 After being one himself, Obi-Wan was under no illusions that having a padawan would be easy, per se.

 He just never thought that it would be this hard.

And maybe it wasn’t -- Anakin Skywalker tended to be an exception to many things, and whether it meant he was exceptional or difficult was anyone’s guess -- sometimes it was both.

 And so Anakin Skywalker was difficult -- but he was also exceptional.

 Because he was as kind-hearted as he was wild, and unfortunately Anakin Skywalker had the biggest heart of anyone he knew; he was as bright as a supernova and as intense as the cresting wave of a tsunami; he was determined to be better, whatever that happened to mean, and he was persistent enough to stand up even after falling down countless times.

 And so little nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker was many things, and unfortunately little nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker was sick.

“You can’t keep scratching, Ani,” Obi-Wan chided for the umpteenth time in the last hour. 

 Master Che will have my head, he thought as he once again swatted poor Anakin’s bulkily bandaged hand away from a particularly nasty looking sore on his arm.

 “But it itches, Master,” he croaked, sinking back into the sterile sheets of the Halls of Healing in defeat. He’d been stuck like this for the past week, and Obi-Wan could tell that the sores crisscrossing his arms and face weren’t the only thing itching him; the need to move, to do something and to take action seemed to be just as in need of a scratch as the chicken pox torturing him was.

 Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh, the burning hole in his stomach that had become a permanent resident since Naboo and all that it entailed seemed to sink a little deeper. This was his fault, of course; not much wasn’t these days, it seemed.

 Of course Anakin had not gotten his immunizations. He was a slave for kriff’s sake! How could Obi-Wan have been so stupid as to not take this into account? Of course Anakin would get sick; Obi-Wan should have predicted it, should have prevented it. (It was starting to seem like he wasn’t very skilled in the art of preventing things; especially things that hurt other people.)

 Obi-Wan released the hand wrapped loosely around the wrist Anakin was slowly but surely inching toward his face before his grip tightened and hurt Anakin any more than he already had; Obi-Wan didn’t think he would be able to bear it if that happened. 

 Though, then again, he didn’t think he could bear this either, and well, perhaps bear wasn’t quite the right word, because to bear something one has to acknowledge and accept it, and Obi-Wan couldn’t quite bring himself to do that. The only thing he could bear was the stress of a Padawan and all that it entailed, and the tight knot of stress happened to be a great filler for the burning hole sinking through his stomach.

 “Come, Ani,” Obi-Wan coaxed. “Drink some water; hydration is important if you want to fight this off, young one.”

 Anakin grit his teeth. “I wish I could fight this off, Master,” he lamented, voice scratchy and cracking. “I’d love to take a lightsaber to this.” He cleared his throat. “This is almost as bad as a virus I caught on Tatooine once, but at least that one didn’t itch,” he groaned, shaking his hand out of Obi-Wan’s grip for the umpteenth time as Obi-Wan once again foiled his plans of scratching at a blister.

 Quickly, before Anakin could get another go at giving himself scars from scratching, Obi-Wan snatched the glass of water at his bedside table and brought the sloshing liquid into Anakin’s line of sight.

 Anakin obediently opened his mouth when Obi-Wan brought the cup of water to his lips, liquid dribbling out the sides and dripping onto the sheets, Anakin unable to hold the glass himself due to the unfortunate addition of bandages wrapped around his hands to prevent him from scratching at his blisters; (they hadn’t worked very well, in Obi-Wan’s opinion; Anakin was a very determined and persistent child, after all.)

 Anakin’s energy, although fiery and lively despite his circumstances, was noticeably waning, and soon enough the flickering of his eyes and lack of energy to fight Obi-Wan’s policing of his scratching had him sinking back against the sheets and pillows behind him; until the only thing that told Obi-Wan that Anakin was awake was the loose, bulky grip around his hand.

 He looked so… peaceful, on the verge of sleep, Obi-Wan thought; he looked just like Qui-Gon, all serene and a pacified but with the faint undertone of something heavy that was threaded through the muscles of his face and through his aura in the Force.

 Obi-Wan’s chest constricted, and he suddenly understood Anakin’s need to scratch his sores all that more vividly; understood the need to get the pain to stop, no matter how, no matter what, even if it just meant more pain in the future, because at least it was satiated for the moment, no matter how many times it came back for more.

 Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head.

 Qui-Gon was gone, simply and with no strings attached; no amount of scratching at this searing hole would bring him back, no amount of satiating the sharp sting of loss would ever fully seal the wound it left behind; Obi-Wan had crashed to the pavement, pebbles imbedded in his palms and jagged stone to tear at his knees, and no amount of bandages and bacta would ever heal the scars.

 Obi-Wan bit down hard on his lip. Stop this thinking at once! He commanded himself.

 He gazed down at his dozing charge. 

 There are more important things to lend your worry to, he chided himself.

 And yes, maybe Anakin did share some resemblance with Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon was not here, and Anakin was; and Obi-Wan was no longer the padawan, Anakin was.

 And so Qui-Gon’s memory would always be the scars on his knees and cuts on his palms, but Anakin might just be the bacta to seal the open wounds until they scarred over. And so Obi-Wan might not be forgetting the pain of Qui-Gon’s absence any time soon, but he had a duty to Anakin to make sure this dreadful hole in his chest didn’t eat him any more than it already had.

 Obi-Wan glanced back down at the young features of his student’s face; the Qui-Gon-like features.

 (He ignored the sharp burn at the backs of his eyes, the tightening of his throat.)

 “Sleep well, young one,” Obi-Wan told his sleeping Padawan. “All will be alright, I promise”

 (And oh, if only he could promise that to himself.)

[nautiscarader]

Wendip Week day 5 - Time Travel

(Ao3) 

Also this was supposed to be short and yet it is 2.5k and still has no plot

==================

- I'm really glad you agreed to help us. - Wendy gave her best friend a kiss to the cheek and waved her children goodbye - We're gonna be by ten. Tyrone, Emma, be good to auntie Tambry. - We'll be back before you know it. - Dipper said, as much to his children, as to the babysitter.

The door to their cozy, two-storey wooden house closed, and the sound of engine soon reached them from the outside, as Dipper and Wendy left for a well-deserved evening alone to celebrate their anniversary. Tambry grabbed a can of Pitt Cola from the kitchen and jumped onto the sofa.

- So, what do you guys want to do? Play some board games, or do you want me to tell you stories? Heh, I have some pretty embarrassing stories about your folks and-

It took Tambry a paralysingly long moment to notice that she has been talking to no one the whole time. She jumped to her feet and frantically looked around, trying to spot all the possible places for a seven- and ten-years old, quickly coming to realisation that there were way too many of them.

But there was only one where a noise was coming from.

The basement.

At once, Tambry dropped her can and rushed downstairs. Other parents might have worried that their children would accidentally break bottles of wine, or cut themselves on some of daddy's tools, but in Dipper and Wendy's case, the consequences of wandering into their basement unprotected were far, far more severe. Apart from the sharp tools and bottles of intoxicants, their basement was a home to their treasure vault.

In the past twenty or so years, the couple (with occasional help from Tambry and others) have travelled around States and the world, to all the places Ford has marked as "of interest". And over the two decades, they have collected many treasures, as well as many objects of interest they kept in their ultra-secure vault, locked not only with technology, but also spells and enchantments.

And when Tambry saw it it wide open, it did not surprise her in the slightest. After all, those were Wendy and Dipper's kids. Tambry's mind went berserk, trying to imagine what the kids could have touched, and as she got into the vault, she saw the Time Tape, a relict from Wendy and Dipper's short-lived part-time job as time agents.

The kids turned their heads around, and just as they began disappearing, Tambry launched herself forward, and as her finger brushed the wobbly, ephemeral surface of time rift, she was pulled forward, but instead of slamming her head against the opposite wall, she began falling, deeper than she ever had, flying though time vortex itself, filled with clocks and occasional telephone boxes, some of which contained two stoned guitarists.

Just as she thought she would feel sick, she felt pain in her arm when she collided with ground.

Tambry turned around, her mind still on Wendy and Dipper's kids. She recognised the place already: she was on the same hill where Woodstick concert was taking place, evidently still with the crowd of attendees. The whole place was filled with people, but as she looked around, Tambry immediately saw two familiar figures: one red-haired boy and one brown-haired girl, just on the verge of the forest, and she leapt towards them, shouting with her last breath.

- Tyrone! Emma! - she grabbed their shoulders Why did you-

But as she looked at the two children, her heart sank as she began noticing subtle differences. Emma didn't have green eyes. Tyrone's hair wasn't as long. And he wasn't as tall as he used to be a moment ago. Emma didn't have a beauty mark on her cheek.

The strange kids stared at her in confusion, but as she was about to ask what happened, she heard a murmur from the crowd behind her. And when she turned around, she nearly fainted. She suddenly realised that the crowd she passed by weren't random people.

As the dozens, if not hundreds of children turned their heads at the same time, in a near-synchronised motion, Tambry began noticing the same features over and over again: red hair, freckles, chestnut hair, birthmarks, brown and green eyes...

- Hi, Aunt Tambry! - spoke the children in blood-freezing, eerie, collective cheer. - What the fu-

And then, she was falling again, through the asphalt, the ground, and the vortex again, but this time, with all the red- and chestnut-haired children. She was still frantically looking for Tyrone and Emma, but she quickly realised it was a futile attempt, and by the time she thought that, she felt pain in her back again, as she landed, this time, in a spacious, gold-and-marble hall.

She expected she would hear hundreds of cries of the children, as they would landed and sprain her ankles or broke their arms, but so far, she was the only one who mis-landed, while every sing;e child or teenager around got onto their feet as if they just exited a school bus.

- Emma? Tyrone?

Tambry asked, being helped by two children, and to her relief, she finally found them, rushing towards her with tears in their eyes.

- Auntie Tambry, we-we are sorry... - Emma cried, closing her arms around her waist. - Yeah, we messed up... - the older boy spoke, without meeting her eyes and joined his sister. - That's... that's okay, kids, everything is fine...

Tambry knelt and brought them into a tight, warm hug, glad things finally started making sense.

And as she opened her eyes, she saw a giant, floating head.

- EMMA AND TYRONE PINES!

The Time Baby boomed, filling the air in the courtroom with its mighty voice.

- YOU HAVE BEEN PULLED FROM YOUR ORIGINAL TIME STREAM TO ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES AGAIN THE TIME ITSELF. - it continued, reading from a piece of paper - TOGETHER WITH YOU, WE BROUGHT ALICE PINES, DAN PINES, PETER PINES, STAN II PINES, STANFORD II PINES, STANISLAU PINES, TERRANCE PINES, DEBORAH PINES, ANNE PINES, DANNY PINES, TYRONE PINES, TYRONE PINES, PHOEBE PINES ...

For the next five minutes, the giant, floating baby continued listing - from the sound of it - names of every single son and daughter of Wendy and Dipper present in the hall. And then it spoke Tambry's name as well, as if she was a punchline to a very long joke.

- DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? - Uh, yeah, about that, I don't. - Tambry spoke, crossing her arms. - Who-who are you guys? I know Wendy and Dipper have been busy once they retired from adventuring, but not THAT much...

Immature snickering erupted around her.

- Auntie Tambry, it's real simple. - Emma tugged her shirt to bring her attention. - All of us here are kids of our parents from alternate universes. Our time-siblings if you will. - Yeah! - another girl, around age of fifteen agreed - Like, in our timeline, our mom and dad are bad-ass freedom fighters... - ...our parents were the same age when they met! - ...my dad moved to Oregon permanently! - ...my mom moved to California! - ...our parents first broke up but then got together again! - ...our parents attended the same sports school! - ...our parents run a coffee-shop!

Everyone in the hall, including the primordial, pan-dimensional Time Baby, collectively groaned.

- Okay, is there *someone*, who can explain to me how to untangle this mess? - Tambry cried in anger - Because I didn't sign up for this... - "Untangle" is, in fact, the correct word.

The crowd of one purple- and many chestnut- and red-heads turned towards the new voice, and just when Tambry thought that something would start making sense, she hiccuped when she understood who just greeted her.

- Waddles! - the crowd of Wendy and Dipper's offspring cheered in unison, and ran towards the chubby pink pig that flew into the courtroom in his leaving chair, Tambry more perplexed than a moment ago. - Indeed, I am Waddles, though not the one you know. I am a distant descendant of the one, brave pig you call Waddles, and who is known in our civilisation as the "Oink-Father". - I need a drink... - Tambry hid her face in hands. - But Tambry here is right - Waddles continued, as he circled the room, until he flew towards the screen - It would seem that one set of children travelled back in time, modified the past, altering their future. Then, another set of kids travelled from the now-changed future, their present, to the same past, hoping to fix it, but modifying it again. Repeat that around, er, seventy-two times, and you get the results!

Waddles spread his stubby trotters, pointing to the crowd of time-travelling children, and continued.

- Your many time travels have twisted the time continuum into a knot-like structure. What's worse, the many parallel universes you've created have ended some of them, and began new ones.

As he spoke, the singular line on the enormous screen began twisting and turning, until it resembled a ball of yarn that has been a target of a whole litter of hyperactive kittens.

- However, hope is not lost. You will find that in order to solve this multi-dimensional conundrum, we must simply use a trivially easy algebraic property of inverting the product.

At least a dozen of children around Tambry let out a collective gasp of understanding and began nodding.

- Er, come again? - Tambry spoke to the talking pig, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. - Simply speaking, you first put on your underwear, and then your pants. But if you want reverse the process, you must first take off your pants, and then the underwear.

The future Waddles looked down at his body.

- I assure you, this analogy is true, even though I have very little experience in that matter. - So... you mean that we need to find which groups of kids brought which one with them, put them in order, and then, like, escort them back, one by one, from the end? - Precisely!

Tambry cursed her best friend under her breath.

- I will never babysit any of you. - she grumbled - I might even never speak to Wendy again either. - she threw a paralysing glare at the crowd of children around her. - Heh, funny story - one of the teenage boys spoke - In our universe, you and our parents... er, kinda-sorta... Ah, never mind, you'll find out. Maybe. - Okay, someone give me some ultra-strong coffee from the future, or something, and let's do this.

And so, it began. Tambry lined up each group of kids together, and after much reorganising they began jumping through time. From universes that looked completely similar to hers, through those still aflame in Weirdmageddon, to those that were literally the mirror ones of hers, complete with traffic signs flipped horizontally, Tambry began the longest school trip of her life, escorting the cavalcade of children, trying her might to keep them holding their hands in line, which was much easier said than done when you are attacked by pterodactyls, or have to swim through the river of chocolate.

After hours, maybe days - she couldn't tell, and she was afraid to ask the children, who she suspected had an answer - she was left with just two kids. The ones she swore to protect, and whom she has failed miserably.

- Okay, guys. Can you tell me WHY IN HECK did you decide to do this?!

Emma and Tyrone looked at each other with shame, and showed her a photo on Tyrone's smarter-phone. A photo only they could have taken. Wendy Corduroy, age 15, kneeling in front of 13-year-old Dipper Pines, as she was telling him goodbye after their first summer spent together. Their future father was still perplexed by Wendy's act of taking his hat and swapping it for hers. She was saying something, but only they knew what they talked about, though Dipper's reddened cheeks gave Tambry a good indication what was Wendy's farewell message.

- We... we wanted to give our parents something for their anniversary. - And we thought we could go back to when they first met, you know, and take a picture. - Emma looked at her younger parents - Look how cute they are! Especially dad! - Yeah, he was heads over heels about your mom. - Tambry smiled. - Except we messed up... Turns out it really matters if you spook that goat and she runs left instead of right! - Hey, it's okay. - Tambry ruffled the boy's hair. - You put all the things back in place?

The two nodded eagerly.

- Okay, we can go back.

Tambry took the time tape, and was about to pull it one last time, but she decided to give it to the children.

- You do it. You know better than me how to use it.

For the last time Tambry felt the now-familiar feeling of her insides somersaulting, and, for the first time, she has managed to land on her feet. Seventy time travels taught her when to flip instead of flopping, something the children seemed to have grasped instantly.  

She opened eyes. They were back in the vault, in one piece, and just as she was about to say something, she heard the familiar sound of engine.

- Quick! get into positions!

She prompted the kids to run upstairs, while she closed the vault's door and followed them soon. By the time Wendy and Dipper opened the door, Emma and Tyrone have managed to bring the plates of snacks, open, empty, and scatter a dozen of cans of soda, and set up entire board and pieces of "Crippling Economy" on the table, to make sure their parents wouldn't suspect anything.  

- Hey, kids! - Wendy spoke, knowing she shouldn't worry too much as their house was still standing. - Did you miss us?

The two adults couldn't even take off their coats, before their children jumped to greet them with the most affectionate of hugs.

- Alright, alright! - Dipper smiled - We got you presents, don't worry... - No, mom, dad, we got you one!

The two nodded and presented to them the freshly printed photo, and watched as their parents' faces brightens in awe.

- Dipper... - Look, we were so young... - You were so small! - But you were as beautiful as today.

The kids let out a simultaneous "yuck" as their parents kissed, knowing to prolong the moment for maximum embarrassment.

- Wow, kids, thank you. - Dipper hugged them again - But where did you get it? - Auntie Tambry was going trough her phone and she found it. - So... we decided to frame it! - That's very thoughtful, you guys. And, hey, where's Tambry?

Just as Wendy asked, a loud snore reached their ears, and the four fund Tambry sleeping on the couch in the living room, the same one she expected to slack off on the entire night.

- You must have seriously tires her out. - Dipper spoke with hushed voice. - Eh, you know how it is - Emma shrugged.  

The Pines family tip-toed from the living room in order not to wake Tambry up. Just as Wendy was about to hang the new picture on the wall, she started thinking "Was Tambry even with us when Dipper left..?". But she was too tired to remember this, and she let out a prolonged yawn, ready to tuck their kids in their beds and join her husband in their bedroom soon.  

=================

Also, this fic contains names that coincide, completely coincidentally, with Wendip kid OCs by @fereality-indy, @nina-a-pines, and Supergroveraway.  

[muchymozzarella]

Canonical Facts About Hanzo Shimada

the lovely @mujaween​ requested this ages and ages (like... a few days) ago and I am here to serve

disclaimer: the Canonical Facts title is a joke from the first post (canonical facts about Gabriel Reyes) where I was supposed to write a canon post but it ended up being a character study instead

These posts are extrapolated from canon but aren’t necessarily confirmed in canon (but are possible/likely) 

ANYWAY

THERE IS A POSSIBILITY THAT HE MAY JOIN TALON, IF NOT OVERWATCH, OR CONTINUE AS A LONE AGENT

art by @hisonae (”Talon Hanzo”)

This is based on multiple elements in the cinematics, the story, the game. 

1) He loves Genji and wants to redeem himself for what he did, so he could go to Overwatch. 

2) His voice lines, though not necessarily canon, show he still has issues with Genji, and may not be as willing to join him, even if he wants redemption. 

You may call yourself my brother, but you are not the Genji I knew.

You will never amount to anything!

3) Widowmaker and Doomfist both have voice lines in game which invite him to join Talon. 

Talon could restore your family's empire.

Hanzo, you should consider joining us. I think we'd see eye to eye.

Though I don’t find it likely he’d join Talon for power, there are still situations in which he might, including to protect Genji or others, to obtain information, etc. Since he’s an assassin, Talon could also hire him as an agent, same as Reaper.

DESPITE REJECTING THE CLAN, HIS VALUES AND BELIEFS ARE STILL SHAPED BY THEIR VALUES. 

Also: HE BELIEVES THAT HONOR AND DEATH ARE TIED TOGETHER DUE TO HIS CLAN’S ASSASSIN ROOTS. 

He’s mired in old ideas of honor, hammered into him by his family. He’s clearly in turmoil about his ideas of right and wrong. 

His voice line: With every death comes honor. With honor, redemption. 

He becomes an assassin for hire because while he rejects the Shimada clan’s ideals, he still attributes what he knows to what they taught him. And in a clan of assassins, honor is tied to death. Despite wholly rejecting his place in the Shimada clan, he’s still carrying their values with him, the disdain of Genji and his choices ingrained in him, despite a part of him knowing that he has to make amends on Genji’s terms and not his own. 

And I think that’ll cause problems between him and Genji in the long run. 

A good example of how Hanzo may react to this change in ideals by Genji is seen in Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender. Even when faced with love and acceptance and real goodness, he still fell back to his sister and father, because that’s all he’s been taught to trust. Even knowing in his heart they are evil and ruthless, he went back to them because he was uncertain and afraid, only learning to change much later in the story out of his love for his uncle.

This may be what Hanzo’s arc will end up being.

Even if he doesn’t go back to the family or to Talon, he’s likely not going to just embrace Genji’s choices and Overwatch so easily. He’s essentially adrift, on the precipice of making a choice--and nobody can tell for now whether it’s going to be one that’ll benefit the ‘heroes’ of Overwatch

HE CUT HIS HAIR AFTER GENJI’S SUPPOSED DEATH

As seen in most media, cutting of hair is symbolic of a dramatic change in life. It’s also an act of grief or dishonor in some cultures. Hanzo’s hair is significantly shorter and more uneven in his default skin 

as compared to his young skin

Because of how rough and uneven it looks, it was likely done out of grief and shame. Which makes this even more interesting: 

The fact that he’s got it cleaned up and styled in a top knot that in ancient times used to be a status symbol means he’s probably more sure of himself and his next step here. His clothes could be a sign of change, they could also be just a cover. But his hair and piercings seem a bit more permanent, could mean more than just a part of a cover. 

HE WAS EXTREMELY JEALOUS OF / COMPETITIVE WITH GENJI 

His voice lines attest to his need to be the best, and his disdain and belittling of Genji. It’s likely Genji had or could do something Hanzo couldn’t, whether it be natural skill at fighting/being a ninja assassin or Genji’s freedom. 

You were never my equal!

i will not be judged by you.

Think you can do better than me?

We are nothing alike!

Genji is an excellent swordsman, skilled with shuriken, fast enough to deflect bullets and to swiftstrike (at least now). He is also more mobile than Hanzo. It’s possible Hanzo felt inadequate compared to Genji; not necessarily because Genji was better, but maybe because Hanzo felt like he had to be so much better than Genji, who spent more time shirking duties than fulfilling them. 

This apparent superiority complex or insecurity of Hanzo may be another layer of animosity between the two. 

BONUS FACT: GENJI’S “DEATH” DIFFERS IN TELLING WITH HANZO AND GENJI 

If you look at the hero bios for each character, Genji’s bio says 

Following the clan leader's untimely death, Genji's older brother, Hanzo, demanded that Genji take a more active role in their late father's empire. Genji refused, enraging Hanzo. The tension between the brothers built to a violent confrontation that left Genji on the verge of dying.

But Hanzo’s says

Upon the death of his father, the clan elders instructed Hanzo to straighten out his wayward younger brother so that he, too, might help rule the Shimada empire. When his brother refused, Hanzo was forced to kill him. This act broke Hanzo's heart and drove him to reject his father's legacy, ultimately leading him to abandon the clan and all that he had worked so hard to attain.

Hanzo’s story is that “he was forced to kill him”. Genji’s is that Hanzo got angry and that’s when he ‘killed’ him. 

Whether the clan gave specific orders for Hanzo to kill Genji or Hanzo’s been taught for so long that death is the only way to restore honor, and felt like he needed to kill Genji simply because that’s what the clan taught him was right, is a very important distinction to give us insight on how Hanzo’s mind works. 

Because again, if he ties honor to death... 

That could spell trouble for a lot of people, Hanzo (and Genji) most of all.