#and also just knowing that despite my best efforts someone will be fighting or blackout drunk or having a breakdown on the day

[biblicalhorror]

My sister and dad wanted to work together to build the arch and it was LITERALLY my dad's only job for the entire wedding (he even had someone else pick out his clothes) and both of them seem to have forgotten about it entirely until today, when I asked them if they were still planning on doing that. Luckily, the groom's mother had an extra arch from her garden she was willing to donate, but now they're both too stubborn to give up on this idea of building one from scratch, again, ONE WEEK before the wedding

Life is.. a lot right now

[2manyfandoms2count]

#MarichatMay Day 28

Aaaand I’m back with some fluffy Adrien “she’s just a friend” Agreste doing what all good friends do when there’s a black out; bringing them food. 

I can’t believe it’s already the end of May!! Oh well, I’ll just embrace my lateness and bring Marichat May into June for a bit ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

@marichatmay

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Day 28: Lights out

Black outs hardly happen in Paris; “the City of Lights” wouldn’t be a fitting epithet if they did, after all. Ever since the rise of Hawkmoth, though, they had become more frequent, even if just for an hour tops, the Akumatised seemingly being fond of throwing large objects into electricity generators. 

It had therefore taken Marinette by surprise when the power had gone off in her neighbourhood, on a crisp November night. She hadn’t actually noticed at first. She had come home from the Collège Françoise Dupont and crashed on her bed, exhausted from a busy week at school. Her parents were absent, on a trip to a baking convention, so she gave herself some time to hang around, scrolling on her Instagram. After a full day of Brevet Blancs, the least she could do was relax. She gushed to Alya about Adrien’s newest pictures via text message while Tikki got the live commentary, making sure to save the ones she would ceremoniously be putting up on her board. It was a hard task -how could someone look so good all the time?- which was only interrupted by the signal that her battery was getting low. She groaned and rolled over to plug her phone in, but noticed the charger did nothing to rectify the situation.

Confused, the young girl tested several power outlets in her room before trying to turn on the lights. Nothing happened. 

“Mince, alors.” She swore lightly, taking the few steps that separated her from her window. She peeked outside, looking out for any commotion that would betray another attack. 

She could see lights across the Seine, and the Eiffel Tower was sparkling, sign that it wasn’t a city-wide problem, but the streets near hers were pitch black. One of her neighbours waved after seeing her, and shouted there had been a small fire in a nearby shop, with a potential gas leak, which was why the firemen had deemed fit to turn the power off for the block; it was supposed to be restored later in the evening when all necessary checks had been carried out. Marinette thanked him and went looking for candles in the mean time.

“Do you think Ladybug should go and help them?” She asked Tikki as she searched through drawers for matches.

“Unfortunately there isn’t much you could do.” The Kwami replied, floating up next to her, eating a macaron. “I’m afraid a Lucky Charm would not help in this situation.” 

Marinette made a face, thinking about her dinner. She was doubtful she’d be able to eat anything warm tonight. She entrusted the candles to Tikki and rummaged inside her fridge, grabbing some cheese and fruit from it. She took the remains of a baguette on the counter and some cutlery before making her way back upstairs. 

She set up for the evening, lighting candles around her room to allow her to see. She found some battery-powered ones buried in her Christmas decoration trunk and settled with a blanket and a book on her chaise. She was in the middle of a tense scene when there was a thud on her roof. Paralysed, feeling as if her heart could rip out of her rib cage at any moment, she let her book drop as her skylight slowly opened. She scrambled for the knife she’d brought up with her and stood up in what she hoped was a good attacking stance. 

A familiar dark figure dropped on her bed, holding what looked what looked like a picnic basket.

“‘Evening Purr-incess, did so-meow-ne order room service?” Chat’s eyes glinted in the candlelight as he slid down her ramp. 

Marinette’s arm dropped to her side. She was torn between yelling at him for scaring her half to death and hugging him for not being a burglar. And also (maybe) because he was him. “Hey Kitty, think you could give me a bit of a heads up before barging in like this?” She ended up saying, with just a hint of reproach in her voice.

“Sorry if I startled you.” He said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I came as soon as I heard about the black out. Will you forgive me in exchange of food?”

Adrien himself hadn’t been affected, despite living just a couple of streets away. The Agreste Mansion was very well equipped to deal with situations like this one. Had Nino not been suddenly logged off from their UMS game, he probably wouldn’t have known about the situation at all. His first thought had been for Marinette, whom he knew was spending the weekend alone. Showing up at her door as his civilian self with provisions was not an option -how would he explain his father letting him go outside in the middle of a power cut, when he wasn’t usually allowed out any other time?-, but for all she knew Chat lived on the other side of town.

“That’s really nice of you, thank you Chat.” Marinette smiled and decided he deserved a kiss on the cheek for his efforts. “What made you think I needed company?”

Chat froze slightly. He hadn’t come over in a while, too busy studying for their exams. He technically wasn’t supposed to know she would be alone as her parents had only remembered the convention in the middle of the week. “Er... Adrien told me you might need stuff? He called me earlier.” That was a believable lie.

“Adrien talks about me?” Marinette’s heart fluttered in her chest. She resisted the urge to swoon, but couldn’t fight the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Well, yes, I mean you’re his good friend, and good friends worry about each other in blackouts, don’t they?...” Chat trailed, a little puzzled by her reaction. Of course he would talk about her. She was the person he valued most beside Ladybug. And his oddly composed family, he supposed.

Whether Marinette chose to ignore him or whether she simply didn’t hear him, too busy internally jumping up and squealing at the information, he didn’t know, but she didn’t reply. He was happy to see her with such a wide smile. Marinette’s happiness was one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen, and he worked in the fashion industry, so that was saying something.

Chat cleared his throat. “Anyway, is there anything you need help with? In the bakery purr-haps?”

Marinette snapped back to reality. “Oh. Yes, I guess, I need to check the fridge downstairs is working, just in case. Do you have to go?”

“For you, I have all the time in the world.” That was another thing friends could tell each other, right?

“Okay, let’s head downstairs then. Do you need a flashlight?” She climbed to her bed to get hers, a relic from when she used to secretly read past her bedtime.

“I’ve got my night-vision goggles on, don’t you worry.” He winked, tapping gently on his mask.

They made their way down to the bakery’s storage room, at the back of the building. Marinette lead the way, expertly dodging bags of flour as she weaved her way towards the fridge. Chat trailed behind, marvelling at the many supplies that surrounded them. Sweet smells tickled his nostrils, chocolate, vanilla, raspberry, rose and passion fruit in between others, an original combination he very much enjoyed. Too busy basking in the quaint atmosphere of the bakery, he tripped on a box and brought down a packet of rice flour and a couple pans in his fall. The commotion gave Marinette a jump scare; she had been checking the temperature of the fridge, which seemed to be stable, with her back to him. She turned around, shining a light directly at Chat, lying on the floor covered in white powder, grinning guiltily.

“Sorry?” He said as he got up, trying to dust the flour off. His hair was completely white.

“Let me help you.” Marinette strode up to him with a giggle at his unusual appearance and mussed up his hair, standing on her tiptoes. The flour fell like snow over both of their faces. She smirked as she heard him purr in response. “For an animal that’s supposed to be discreet, you’re hardly light on your feet tonight.” He stuck his tongue out in response. Standing so close to her, their faces bare inches apart seemed to freeze his thoughts for the benefit of accelerating his heart beat.

Satisfied everything was in order, and the bakery was locked and secure, the pair went back upstairs, grabbing a box of macarons as they did, Chat admitting he’d omitted to bring dessert. They settled on the floor in Marinette’s room, laying down the picnic. Marinette was impressed by the amount of food there was.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, so I just took what I found.” Chat shrugged. Namely, sushi, quiche, ratatouille and beef Wellington.

“You’re really the best, you know that?” She smiled in reply, her head tilting to the side as she looked at him fondly. What would she do without her Chaton?

“Purr-etty sure that would actually be you.” He held her hand absentmindedly. 

They joked around as they ate, both enjoying the company. It had been a while since Adrien had had dinner with anyone. He appreciated Marinette’s humour, and her interest in him, while still being respectful of the mask and the secrecy that went with it. Marinette was glad to have Chat with her tonight. He made the black out more cheerful.

They ended up curled up in her chaise after dinner, Chat reading her book out loud thanks to his night vision. The traditional candles had burnt out, decreasing the light source in the room. His voice, so familiar and smooth, lulled Marinette to sleep. She snuggled against him as he spoke, embracing the warmth of his body. Chat stopped reading and looked at her affectionately, reluctant to disturb her in her slumber. He moved delicately from under her and picked her up, bridal style. He carried her to her bed and tucked her in. He nipped back down to get a piece of baguette and cheese for Plagg (the Kwami would never forgive him if he didn’t get him anything), and a battery-powered candle to leave beside her bed, in case she needed it when she woke up.

Marinette stirred as he open her skylight, muttering something along the lines of Lucky Charm. Chat found it odd, but didn’t question it. 

“You’re my Lucky Charm, you know that Purr-incess?” He whispered as he carefully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her on the forehead before leaving.

Marinette woke up the next morning in the best of moods. The power was back on, and she’d had the most wonderful dream of Adrien calling her his Lucky Charm.

[yanderedbh-moved]

In this scenario, you’ve become fed up with your life as the yandere’s glorified captive. Deciding you can’t take another day of this, you attempt to just get up and walk out. Much to your dissatisfaction, though, you are stopped at the door by the yandere. After a heated confrontation, you make a split-second decision to just try and force your way past them. However, in a blind panic, the yandere grabs you and throws you with full force away from the door, accidentally throwing you up against the wall. The unexpected strength of the attack was faster than your reflexes. After your head collided against the wall, you were unable to catch yourself before landing on your back. Knocking the wind out of your lungs, leaving you stunned and practically immobile.

Connor

For a brief moment here, Connor might unintentionally have a bit of a "blackout" moment. On account of all the stress and peril of his current situation, Connor loses full control over himself and his instincts as a hardened police Android take over. Resulting in Connor reacting with such force.

After he's apologized to you and after you've allowed him to scan and assess any possible damage caused, he will do his best to explain the cause of this outburst. Partly for your own sake of understanding and partly so you won't blame him later.

Though he might not want to do this, Connor can't help but notice how he has your full attention and that you undeniably view him as a threat he will use fear to get his point across towards you. He'll explain that he's powerless to stop this shift in his own behavior, and it'd be in your best interest not to test him again if you don't want this to happen.

Markus

He knows there's no way to prevent himself from feeling guilty over what he's done; he must admit to himself this choice was made with the both of your well-being in mind. Although this hurt, it really was a necessary evil.

Before he does anything, Markus will allow the silence and fear to fully set in for you to really learn your lesson here before he even does anything. After this, he will give you a choice. Apologize for leaving and swear you'll never do this again and he'll help you out here, or you can try your little escape again and see where that leads you.

After everything, though, you know there's no way you physically have the strength left and you to try and run again. With no choice but to admit defeat, you let Markus carry you back to the bed where you'll have an awfully long time to think about what you've done.

Kara

Before now, Kara always saw herself as a protective figure to you; it just didn't make any sense to her why you would try to run from her. What made even less sense to her, however, was how could she let herself bring you harm after she promised so long ago to do nothing but love and protect you.

To make up for doing this to you, Kara swears to look after you with the utmost attention while your injuries repair themselves. No matter how minor any of those injuries might be to her, this is her fault, and she must atone for this.

Kara might really beat herself up over this because, on the one hand, she really does feel guilty over doing this to you. However, this might also be a slight manipulation tactic to convince you to forgive her over all of this.

Hank

He's barely even able to fully process what has happened before he's a cursing mess. Not exactly hard to understand why it would cause Hank so much stress to see he directly caused someone he loves so much physical pain. As he's likely become so smothering over you to cope with the way he blames himself for Cole's death. So even a rather minor incident like this has his stress levels at a maximum.

He'll start swearing before doing his best to quickly bend down and get beside you. (As swiftly as he can though unfortunately his knees just aren't what they used to be.) As a lieutenant, he has at least the vaguest of medical knowledge to check to see if you have any significant damage on the back of your head or on your neck.

For a long time, he wouldn't know what to do other than to just hold you in his arms and whispering in your ear to you over and over how sorry he is. Needless to say, this stuck with him, and he actually is more hesitant to strike out in the future or to even so much as raise his voice.

Luther

To say he was regretful was an understatement. Honestly, there were no words to describe the shame and regret he felt as he watched your body slumped to the floor, and the way your eyes wide nearly tearing with fear stared up at him. No doubt, fearing that he was about to strike at you again.

It was nothing short of heart-wrenching to watch as all his efforts to convince you he was more than the attack dog he was programmed as were crushed with one regrettable outburst. Unable to stop himself, Luther would fall on his knees at your side, pulling you into his arms, careful not to bring any further strain to your harmed body as he wept and apologized.

Simon

It's difficult for Simon to decide what to do here, and seeing the way you're too afraid to move as you look up at him isn't helping. However, considering there's no way you're planning to try and escape from him for the rest of the night, Simon would likely take off to be on his own for a little while.

Simon knows he's a strong guy. However, he knows he's not exactly the toughest around, and any injuries you suffered by his hands will likely need no more than a night to recover from. That's isolation is best for you both.

It wouldn't be until much later into the night when you think you're all alone in bed that you would feel him crawl up beside you. Only after a long time alone to think about his actions, would you get a proper apology. Even here, though, Simon wouldn't waste his breath and promising not to do this again.

North

Like many yanderes here, it's genuinely tough for North deal with what she's done or by extension to fully comprehend the pain she's caused. Because of that North will try to cover the feelings of guilt and shame with anger.

She'll say things like, "See what you've done! I warned you not to get in my way or to leave me and look at what you've done! How could you do this to us? You must really hate me, even after everything I've done for you!"

Make no mistake though these words of harshness of hers are nothing more than a front North is putting on. There is no one here she's more angry with then herself no matter what she might say. The one thing which would eventually break through to her though it would be the site of you curled up on the floor at her feet and pain.

Josh

He was angry at you before for trying to leave him like this but, once he fully realizes what he's done, there is no one Josh is more upset with that himself. Josh wanted to show you there was no reason to fear or hate him, but what did he do instead? Nothing but prove your fears to be true.

Despite the intensity of his own emotions at the moment, Josh wouldn't immediately rush to your side. He knows you're already afraid in the last thing Josh wants is to further scare you or stress you out.

All he wants to do right now is hold his beloved as he brushes away your tears and rocks you gently to calm you down enough to stop crying and to stop fighting his affections.

Kamski

Despite the situation, there's a chance Kamski might feel a touch of pride in reducing you to such a pitiful fearful, and helpless state. Kamski might fancy himself in intellectual over a fighter any day, but he loves to see your reactions of all kinds. No matter the emotion, he can't get enough.

Because of this, Elijah can't help but chuckle and taunt you here. "My love, you really ought to know better than to try and test me like this, have you really learned so little about me?"

He would leave it up to you to get up by yourself, heal up, and decide where to go from here. After all, if there's anything Kamski finds more interesting than how you react to stimulus, it's watching how you'll decide to counter this and grow. It's all so fascinating, and he can't wait to watch more from you in the future.

Chloe

To be completely honest, it's tough for Chloe to even understand how she managed to get in this position in the first place; however, but she knows this is all just a big mistake. Just some freak accident, and the sooner you can understand that as well the better.

Even though she wants to make sure you aren't hurt too badly, the shock of realizing she's why you're in so much pain has Chloe immobile with fear, and she's paralyzed with shock for a few moments.

Entirely beside herself, Chloe is all but bawling her eyes out at she's hugging you as tight as she can, exclaiming again and again how sorry she is. As well she begs you for forgiveness chillingly, also asking you never to make her have to do something like that again... Because she can and will at the end of the day do this if it means keeping you by her side forever.

Gavin

Despite his initial shock over the whole ordeal, Gavin may have a rough temperament. Still, he really didn't mean to do this and is just as surprised as you at the fallout. He would be sure to try and hide his alarm and would try to use his own anger to cover what he's done.

Completely out of his element here when it comes to assessing your injuries even though there's a chance you're concussed, he will drag you back to the house to check your injuries.

Even though he wouldn't say sorry to your face or anything like that, you can tell that deep down, he wishes it didn't have to be this way, and he might even try harder to be more careful in the future.

Zlatko

"You're going to have to be smarter than that if you want to escape me, my sweet." Yeah, don't tell me you thought Zlatko would feel sorry or apologize to you after what he's done. Unfortunately, that's not precisely Zlatko's style. He never used pet names with you and only would really break them out if he was trying to scare you or get under your skin. And now that you're lying helplessly At his feet, your mind can't help but race as you tremble thinking of all the possible ways this man could hurt you punish you for running.

In his mind, this is nothing short of a valuable learning opportunity for you, after all, what fun would you be to keep around if you are a dull, predictable pet. Zlatko has androids he can use, which were programmed to do that for him. What he wants from you is something more interesting.

Ralph

Since the shock of everything caused the wind to knock from your lungs and you to see stars for a moment, you're actually unable to move. In that time, Ralph's is horrified, wondering if he's actually accidentally killed you.

Ralph would never be able to forgive himself if this were to actually happen, so without missing a beat, he's hands and knees over you begging to wake up and answer him.

Eventually, when you do come to your senses, and you're afraid of him on a whole new level, unsure if you'll ever be able to predict his next mood swing.

Daniel

Oh boy, the unfortunate overwhelmed android. He thought things were going wrong when you tried to leave, but now that he's done this to you, things are looking all the bleaker for the two of you.

Before now, Daniel felt scared and full of awful impulses, but he knew he could count on you to help him calm down in times of anxiety and not do something stupid. But now that you were the one responsible for these feelings. How could he ever hope to keep his emotions under control? It was a lost battle, to say the least.

A part of him couldn't help but feel genuinely angry with you, though. After all, you knew better than anyone how Daniel had such awful memories of being replaced and abandoned. However, still, you did this to him.

Nines

A far cry from the more smothering types of yanderes Nines isn't afraid to show you who's really in charge here; however, just because he's hard on you doesn't mean he's doing this because he wants to see you suffer. Nines might say he's testing you like this as a way to make you stronger like he's helping you here.

Nines wasn't surprised to see he was physically strong enough to do something like this to you. What did alarm him is how he struck out and hurt you at all, considering how he usually has much better control over himself and isn't so prone to outbursts like this.

Nines realizes fairly quickly the notion of you walking out on him or by extension, ever losing you in general causes him great fear and weakness. Something he doesn't want you to see. Nines wouldn't apologize or express how he hates to see you in pain; instead, he would warn you not to test him again and to leave you alone for the rest of the night.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled.)

[SPOILERS FOR SWORD & SHIELD START HERE].

Oh Hop, my sweet, sweet summer child.

I've used a similar setting in three fics already. Time to get original bitch. Anyway! This story was a test run for a Postwickship fic for me and it's a success: I've had tons of fun. This is supposed to be set post-game but in an AU where Shieldbert and Swordbart or whatever their Eng names are didn't show up to steal old rusty held items idk. I just really wanted to write hurt/comfort for them lol I headcanon the player character and their crew as 16 in SwSh so they're 16-17 here. I wouldn't puncture the lung of a 10-year-old, jeebus. This could be a little incoherent because I wrote it in more than one sitting and while doing some research on the side at times, so I hope this is satisfying to someone out there.

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Anima Curanda (A Soul Who Will Be Cared For)

Summary: Hop tries finding his way back to civilization after a trip field gone wrong, Gloria finds her best friend injured in Postwick and the air surrounding them is filled with unanswered questions, undisclosed pain and concerns. A lot of concern.

Fandom: Pokémon Sword and Shield Ship: Pre-rel Hop/Gloria (Postwickshipping)

Wordcount: 3.8K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Hahaha, it hurts! It just hurts!

What hurts? Too much to keep track off, frankly. He just aches all over, from head to toe; from the migraine of having barely slept to the pain of having walked and biked for days and days; from the dark thoughts he tries to keep buried from the outside world and the hazards on the ground that he stumbles over when he starts to overthink things.

 Despite how many times he’s been curb-stomped to the ground, how many times he’s flown in the air after the shockwave a move can make, and how much all of these hurt afterwards, he’s kept rising to his feet over and over again. He’s lost to his rival ten times already, he’ll never shine as bright as his brother or the friend he spent his childhood with, unbeatable as they are and ordinary as he is. He’s nothing special, nothing shiny, just nothing.

Portraits of Lee decorating the living room and countless discussions between his own family aside, there’s a lot of other things that tell him he’s the inferior product. A lot of other little, tiny things – of details, even – that ache to think about, that pinch his heart to the point of being slightly nauseous.

 Everyone on his team has fainted, aside from Dubwool who’s courageously fighting the hail with him. He regrets having ever taken his first partner, his most loyal one, away in some PC box out of the sheer mass of his insecurities, of that constant will to improve despite nothing good ever coming from that. He hangs onto its Ball as firmly as he can, the strength of it making him afraid he’ll make it shatter if he clenches it too strongly.

He’s actually surprised he feels this strong to begin with. After trekking for days, fighting everything he could, trying to find new members to reinforce his team, it’s surprising he can still think of himself as strong enough to do that. If it wasn’t for the pain bolting in his chest, he wouldn’t be clenching that ball as if his life depended on it.

 And what a pain it is! It started with the missed Psycho Cut of a wild Gallade, whom Corviknight had narrowly the assault of shortly before getting taken down itself, hitting right into the left side of his chest and most likely at least making some internal damage in there. That was around two days ago, if he isn’t wrong, and it’s shown no sign of hurting less anytime soon.

It bruised rapidly, or so he thinks compared to those he’d often get when he was younger (and also not unlike the ones Lee got during the Eternatus incident, on second thought…). Pressing a hand against it too strongly makes him yelp in pain while his skin keeps worsening in colour around where he got it. He was lucky for it not to have bled on the spot, but that doesn’t make anything much better: it still hurts a ton and he still has trouble breathing because of it. If it’s not getting better after a couple days, when will it do so?

 At times, black dots appear all over his vision, for some reason, and he starts swaying and staggering until Dubwool catches him back with its fur. He used to apologize verbally, the first times that’d happen; but he’s found himself having less and less breath to give his excuses with. Sentences became a couple words, words some syllable.

It doesn’t help that he’s constantly lightheaded and easily gets dizzy. If he moves a little too rapidly, his vision goes for a swim and may not come back. If it wasn’t for Dubwool fending off the Sneasels that take interest in them at times, he’d have been a goner for sure. He has the feeling this is all related to his injury, to that toxic-looking bruise that’s festering under his miserable layers, but doesn’t see exactly how. Well, that’s not entirely true: he can easily suppose it’s because that injury makes it harder to breathe, so much harder, because of the pain it fires up in him every time he tries to speak and breathe.

 The city is in sight. Wyndon’s lights and tower are in view, and he finally feels some relief, Dubwool seemingly bleating in agreement. However, right as he charges his legs to rush there, he trips over some ice, his damp sole gliding for a split second, losing his balance and falling again. Dubwool doesn’t have the time to react properly and stop him, so he falls right on his chest from all of his height, a sickening thumb resonating with his fall. The air gets propelled out of his lungs in one fell swoop, dizzying him even further.

He has no time to lose, especially not what he’s that close to the city, so he tries getting up on his arms. The pain that has been dully brushing against his ribs is now acting in an even fuller swing, the black dots not leaving his line of sight, almost preventing him from breathing altogether. He could stop to take a taxi, but what if he’s to pass out before it even comes? No, no, he has no time to lose…

 His legs have endured a beating of their own before, decorated with scratches and bruises from the rocks he didn’t see coming and the claws of the local wildlife, tired of pushing on themselves to make him keep going. As a result, he has to use Dubwool as a support, failing to rise up once or twice before managing to finally regain a footing and continue his route to Wyndon. He’ll be there soon, he’ll be able to know what’s wrong and to finally give himself actual rest. Arceus, doesn’t that sound amazing?

He suddenly coughs violently, not even having the time to say anything or even put a hand in front of his mouth. He’s left gasping for air, unable to really make oxygen enter his chest anymore, especially once he sees what has just gotten out of his system, spread on the snow like an unremovable stain on an immaculate carpet. This is it: he has to go forward now or he’ll never see the light of day again.

 With tremendous efforts, he makes it to Wyndon, out of breath; legs shaking in instability and arms tired of holding a hand against an injury that most likely doesn’t get any better from getting pressed. He’s still coughing, even if it hurts him even more to do so, and he’d just like to laugh it all off. He’d have done that if the pain wouldn’t get even more excruciating from such a gesture alone. The Centre is very much near now, and he can get there if his chest doesn’t give up on him too. Still, there’s another sight that makes him stop for a few seconds, and a shiver goes down his spine.

In the distance is his childhood best friend, his journey companion, his (former?) rival, waving at him vigorously. She’s smiling, grinning even, as he runs towards him. It’s only when she notices the hand clutching the hurtful part of his abdomen that Gloria drops the smile and immediately worries. It’s kind of hard to say for sure when most of his vision is blurry from the tears that are flooding it by the second.

D-dammit, he doesn’t want to worry her of all people!

 “Hop, are you alright?” She asks, voice hesitant, in a tone he hasn’t heard in a little while.

“Y-yeah, I… I should be… real soon…!” He’s breathless and speaking hurts even further; yet tries smiling, only for his face to follow his chest.

“You’re sure about that? You look like you’re in pain!”

“It’s nothing…! I pro –”

Before he can pronounce his false oath, he starts coughing again, despite all his best efforts not to. The thing building up in his airways gets out anyway, no matter what he wants, and his vision starts swimming again. He’s afraid he’ll blackout before he can reach the Centre, so he should quickly stop that conversation and…

“Let me see.”

 He stares at her for a millisecond, eyes squinting. He was just about to grab a tissue and clean the inside of his palm.

“Hop,” her voice strengthens, reminiscent of the Champion who’s beaten his until then undefeatable brother. “Please, Hop, let me see. It really doesn’t sound right.”

He reluctantly gives her his hand, the black dots dancing around them like will-o-wisps. She doesn’t respond to it, her reaction instead cementing itself in silence. That is, until she finds what words she wants to put on it. It drops in a glacial, no-nonsense tone, raw and undignified:

“…I’m calling for help.”

 Before he could interrupt her attempt at doing so, the quick move he tried to pull off to do so makes itself felt and he collapses on his knees, the pain in his chest unbearably intense. It’s like he’s been kicked in the abdomen, and then someone was twisting something inside of it. Breathing is becoming impossible, or at least barely, from how painful it is to inhale and exhale, from how difficult it is to simply focus on that with such a hazy mind. He wants to cry, but that sounds like choking himself even further…

Gloria seems to be over with her call rapidly, as she next kneels down to his level, her warm hands on his cold shoulders, then on his forehead. Her touch is delicate, as if she’s stroking crystal, while he’s busy not strangling himself with whatever’s happening inside of him at the moment. She gives him soft words of reassurance, shelters him with her arms from the rest of the world, tells him he doesn’t have to lie or suffer anymore. He likes that. He wishes his arms could do the same for her, but she simply is so much stronger than he is, and there is nothing he can do about it. Maybe, one day, he’ll be able to pay her out…

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon,” is the last thing he hears before his vision fades to black.

  Gloria wishes she could have been waiting with Dubwool by her side, both so she wouldn’t be alone and because it’s her best friend’s closest partner; but, naturally, that’s not possible in a hospital, so she instead fumbles with its Ball.

She tried calling Leon and Sonia earlier to warn them about what had happened, but neither of them responded. If she’s to assume, she’d say Leon is busy with managing the Battle Tower and Sonia is head-deep into her studies, may have had a sleepless night and is now snoring over her desk, left unable to be awaken by her phone (which she most likely put on Plane Mode anyway…). She’ll have to wait for them to pick them back up and call her back, then. Ah, that sort of stuff happens. Plus, they can’t have known.

They really can’t guess what happened.

 She can’t quite put back the pieces, at the moment, because of how little she knows about the sequence of events that brought Hop to Wyndon, on a fairly sunny day with cold air, with most of his party fainted, an exhausted Dubwool and, most of all, a couple broken ribs. If Hop can communicate with Dubwool, then she really can’t, even if she’s never wished that much in her life that she could understand bleating. She hadn’t even considered the question until today!

What worries her the most is the blood he was spitting when he was trying to talk to her. Is that a symptom of broken ribs? She can’t remember having ever broken such a bone in her life, or known someone who did. Truth be otold, there may have been that one time where that could have happened, but she never got to know why. A few years ago, the neighbours suddenly went to Wyndon for a week, taking Hop with them, and Mum just kept saying that things would be back to normal soon. She didn’t lie, but the sketchiness of it all makes her suspicious… It doesn’t help that, that year, the Gym Challenge finals got postponed.

 Still, there’s something inside of her that just knows something’s gone terribly wrong. She can’t exactly pinpoint how, or why, or if it’s even possible that such a feeling could be right. All she knows is that she’s having an awful impression of it all and that her heart is beating in overdrive. Winding out is not exactly the easiest thing to do when she’s stuck in a waiting room, having to choose between pacing indefinitely or sit on a chair and play around with her fingers or her phone.

She’s tempted to go outside to wait for the news to be given to her, absolutely; but she’s afraid that, if she does so, the doctors will have nobody to give it to if she’s still outside by then. That’d be underestimating how much she wants to see him, to know what exactly happened and how she, as a Champion and as a friend worthy of such name, can fix things. That’s part of her missions as Leon’s successor, right?

 Set on staying here until someone gets out of the operation room, the bright red light of the “In Use” sign sitting over the doorframe whose direction she regularly glances at still shining over the daylight pouring through the windows, Gloria settles on studying her surroundings yet again. The walls are still white and pristine, with barely any spot or stain to be noticed. The floor is covered by a layer of grey linoleum, as boring to comment on as it’s functional. If she can guess such a room is regularly cleaned, she can also tell there’s been a couple stretchers that have wheeled through it to the operation room today already. The lines and stains left by these, unlike the walls, are still visible.

The room is empty and, aside from her unnerved breathing and impatient footsteps, silent. The soundproof walls make it so she can’t hear a thing, even if she puts her ear against the wall, morbidly curious, trying to keep herself from dipping into some seriously messed-up thoughts that have been trying to assault her mind ever since Hop started showing signs he wasn’t as fine as he’d have liked her to believe.

 In a way, it’s funny that he’s doing exactly the same thing as his brother. They both said “I’m fine, don’t worry” at times where they knew they weren’t. Still, she doesn’t think that Hop did that on purpose, now that he’s tried freeing himself from Leon’s shadow. It’s more of a thing that she sees herself doing… As hypocritical as that may be, and as much as she dislikes knowing he purposefully lied to her thinking it’d be the right thing to do for her sake, she can understand it. She can understand it and that has to be why she hates it so much…

Gloria’s back hits the wall as she glides down to her feet, crouching with her forearms on her knees. Time’s too long and she’s getting nauseous from the anxiety that keeps piling in her throat and chest, heart throbbing. Trying not to cry is already a behemoth task in itself, so she focuses on that, only for her thoughts to change back to what could be happening and questions she can’t have an answer to.

 She snaps back to reality when the red light turns off and the door finally opens, revealing a gurney getting wheeled to the other side of the room and a surgeon, still wearing his stained scrubs, walking up to her. She stands back up, rising herself on stiff and yet trembling legs, and lies back against the wall, gulping. Her mind rings and burns with a thousand questions; but her voice can’t catch up, not even a whisper exiting her mouth. The man gives her a tired, yet soft smile back:

“Your friend will be fine. Absolutely is the brother of the former Champion, his fighting spirit showed in the OR…”

 She has to retain herself from hugging the man right in front of her and give him a waterfall of thanks. Instead, she remembers for a split second she’s the current Champion, shakes her head and keeps the waterworks from unfolding for a little while longer:

“Thank you so much, doctor.”

  There is a silent horror seeping in her veins from being here. Everything about the room is eerie: the slow, somewhat regular beeps of a monitor; the oxygen mask sitting there, accompanying an otherwise soothing breath; the abnormal serenity of the air around her, the whiteness of a room that reminds her of the snow and the smell of antibiotics.

She remembers waiting in a lobby with Hop decorated like that in Hammerlocke, his hand clutching hers while he tried not to bit his thumb or cry in stress, the both of them tired and battered yet the lucky party of the fight against Eternatus. She remembers the horrified yet relieved look on his face as they discovered in what state his brother was. She remembers the words that got out of his mouth, how he found it so creepy to have Lee lying there, almost lifeless.

Surely there is some irony to be found about Hop now playing that role.

 It hurts to be there, to see the time standing still yet again, as she waits for him to wake up. A part of her does like him to be resting after the nightmare he must have endured to end up like that. With the injuries he’s sustained, it’s only normal he doesn’t wake up immediately. She’s trying to combine that with the effect of sleeping gas, but as a girl who’s never had a surgery, it’s hard for her to estimate such a thing. She’s got to wait and…

“Gl…”

 She’s about to drift off when she realizes Hop’s head is now turned towards her, the faintest smirk on his lips. He looks beyond tired, exhausted by the experience and the trauma of the surgery, pale all around, but he’s still here, safe. The light press she feels on her hands makes her realize she’s been holding his all along. That’d be embarrassing if she wasn’t trying to get her priorities straight.

“Hop, you’re awake!” That’s beyond obvious, what’s the point of saying aloud like that? Maybe it’s just from the sheer happiness of this being a fact…

“T-thanks…”

 His voice is weak, low and raspy, barely more hearable than a whisper; quite the opposite of the roaring tone he’d usually speak in. Still, that’s his voice, that’s him being able to breathe yet again, and it’s more than enough for now. Of course, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t wish deeply for his recovery to happen soon; that’s just settling down for a sustainable goal for now. Better not rush things in, for she has a feeling that may have happened to her good old friend over here…

“How are you?” She asks, keeping her own voice down.

“Huh… Sore…?”

“Better than gone, I suppose.”

“…Yeah…”

 Hop inhales deeply, wincing slightly when he does. A slow hand strokes the left side of his chest, trying to calm something down.

“A-again… Thanks for… y’know… saving me…”

“That was nothing. We have to look out for each other, don’t we?”

“Ha… Yeah…”

The mood sinks with his smile, dragging her heart with it.

“Sorry for… that…”

 Gloria doesn’t reply immediately, letting a silence settle itself, uncomfortable and thick.

“You’re having problems breathing, right?”

He nods.

“No wonder you do, with what you got for yourself… How did you even go for that long with these injuries?”

“I wanted to… make sure my… team would be safe.”

“The good news is that they’re safe, now. Dubwool seemed really worried about you when I found you two!”

“He’s such a great ’on, right…?”

“He sure is.” She clears her throat. “Anyway. I meant to ask you to be easier on yourself from now on. It was really heart-breaking to see you like that struggling to even breathe.”

“Sorry for being such a klutz… Got hit by a Gallade… Slipped on some ice…”

“…and pierced your lung.”

 He freezes.

“So, as I said: don’t do that again, okay? You deserve a lot more than dragging yourself like that, Hop.”

He looks aside.

“You… think?”

“Of course I do! What am I to you, a liar?”

He almost laughs until his pain catches back to him, causing the fit to immediately stops in its tracks.

“’t wasn’t what I meant…!”

“I guessed so.”

 It’s to Gloria’s turn to look aside and feel something burn inside of her, scratching her chin with her finger.

“I meant to say, you’re amazing, Hop. I don’t want to see you go like you almost did. What’s a Champion without her rival?”

“Huh…”

“That’s right, not the same person! You matter very much to so many people! So, please, can you take care of yourself?”

Hop still doesn’t reply. He looks like he’s lost his words somewhere along the way.

“Not for anyone either. For yourself. I… I hope you’ll one day understand how important you are.”

She can understand she’s being confusing and emotional. Trying to pull strings together is harder than usual.

“I’ll try that, then…”

“Good.”

 The two of them settle in a comfortable silence. She’ll have to ask him when he’s better what happened to him in case such a disaster is to happen again (which she really hopes it doesn’t). For now, he’ll recover, and she’ll be by his side as he does so. Too bad for her Battle Tower scores and public interventions, some things just matter more than clout and fighting experience.

You know, once she’s sure they’ll be safe and sound, she can tell what’s truly on her mind and heart. It seems like he still doesn’t have a clue as to what’s hiding under the rocks…

  “Hop!!”

Busting through the door, not even waiting for a yes or a no, Leon enters the room his baby brother is stuck in. Soon, however, his intense concern turns into a sort of awkwardness and utter surprise when he realizes he’s facing his brother and his best friend sleeping against next each other, their hands fiddled together.

 Before he can mellow out and smile at the sudden sight of safety and softness, Sonia’s voice comes from behind his shoulder.

“Let them sleep instead of screaming like that, you big idiot.”

He has to agree with her, so his shoulders untenses as he lets her enter and closes the door behind them.

[mark-xeen]

Transformers Archive Reimagine (T.A.R.)-Punch/Counterpunch

Punch

Transformer:

• Name Punch

• Alignment Autobot

• Altmode- A triple changer with one car vehicle mode and a second robot mode

• Role- Double Spy

Archive:

• Summary- Punch is a deep undercover spy working for the Autobots.  Punch possesses a unique secondary robot mode as an altmode, further helping him infiltrate the Decepticon ranks as Counterpunch. However, as time goes on and pressure begins to build up, Punch teeters between the fine line of maintaining his cover from the Decepticons and reminding himself which side he truly belongs to.

• Notable Appearances & Facts

o Within his Tech Spec, Punch is written as being a cool-head individual who doesn’t talk much and keeps to himself on both sides due to his role as a double agent. This is best summarized with his quote “In my business, there are no friends, only suspects.”

o Transformers Cartoon- In the finale “Rebirth” (which was Punch’s first and last appearance in the Transformers cartoon), his main role in the episode was to uncover the Decepticon’s plan involving the vault, get out of sight, and change back to his Autobot form so he could fight them. While he put up a bit of fight, he ultimately lost and the Decepticons still managed to get the key. Punch would later regroup with the other Autobots and aid in the battle. From what was shown, Punch was just a regular spy for the Autobots with no traces of his split personality. 

o Transformers Headmasters- In continuation of this rather questionable Japanese only sequel, Punch’s role as the Autobot’s spy was further expanded, with the revelation that he managed to get himself promoted to Scorponok’s trusty informant. While he mainly did his best to sabotage the Decepticon effort by giving the Autobots vital intel, there were times where he had to give the Decepticons actual information in order to maintain his cover such as giving details on the Autobot Headmasters’ location. While he mostly maintains his cover surprisingly well, his cover was nearly blown a couple of times, and even completely blown by Galvatron. But given the nature of this show this didn’t last long, as his cover was restored after Galvatron’s death by friendship and ice.

o Transformers Universe Marvel Bio- While Punch/Counterpunch never made a full appearance in the Marvel Transformers comics he was given a bio. It was here where Punch’s mental problems first appeared. In his two sectioned bio, Punch’s cool headed authoritative nature is actually a front, hiding a mech whose is a complete wreck with paranoia and nerves stemming from his job. This along with his distrust towards others eventually results in the double spy developing a split personality. But what makes it interesting is that while Counterpunch behaves more like a Decepticons in terms of personality and ruthlessness, he still retains his Autobot sensibilities and loyalties, remaining resolute and tight lipped behind enemy lines. Furthermore, both he and Counterpunch are unaware of the other’s existence along with everyone else aside from Optimus Prime himself. Despite the growing concern, Optimus keeps Punch deployed due to his usefulness but sees the agent as a ticking time bomb and fears he might actually turn traitor.

o Transformers Dreamwave Bio- Similar to Marvel, Punch and his alter ego Counterpunch never appear directly in the Dreamwave Transformers comics and instead only appears in the Transformers character bios. His Dreamwave version borrows many elements from his Marvel one, he’s displayed as a bot who is quiet with a cool headed attitude that is mistaken by his comrades as him being a calm, authoritative person, when in actuality he’s a complete nervous wreck. This eventually results in his created alter ego Counterpunch developing a life of his own. The bio further delves into the reasoning behind Counterpunch’s behavior by stating that Counterpunch became a way for the Autobot spy to indulge in some of his darker urges and impulses without any guilt. This has gotten to the point that he started having blackout periods while being Counterpunch. Despite this, Punch refuses to report these incidents to his superiors out of a belief that he can keep it under control. Though he begins to wonder who’s really in control- him or Counterpunch? 

o Transformers: Of Masters and Mayhem- Out of all the appearances so far, this story delves into the dangers of Punch’s psychological problems and his sense of identity. In Masters of Mayhem Punch’s backstory is expanded upon. He was an actor from a city called Harmonex, however, during the war, the city got destroyed with Punch being possibly the only survivor. Punch, guided by his anger, became reckless, which got his unit killed. Eventually Autobot high command asked him to work as a spy due to his unique T-Cog. Many years later, reports of Decepticon attacks as well as Counterpunch’s involvement in an Autobot massacre causes Punch to be labelled as a traitor and locked in the brig. While locked up, Punch started hallucinating his alter ego Counterpunch with the ego claiming to be the real mech and Punch being the alter ego. The reasoning for this is that no other mech beside Punch knows about or even remembers Harmonex. Counterpunch claims that the city wasn’t real and he made it up as part of Punch’s backstory. Punch’s mind shuts down and Counterpunch takes control. When the Decepticons arrived to free him, Counterpunch took part in the battle, but seeing the dead bodies of his fellow Autobots caused the Punch personality to take over again and fight against the Decepticons, resulting in him getting blown apart. However (un)fortunately Lifeline was able to put him back together, but ended up permanently repairing him in his Counterpunch form- now more confused of who he was as the memories of both egos were flooding his mind. Soon afterwards Counterpunch is recruited by Impactor, before leaving he asks if the Leader of the Wreckers knew Harmonex to which, surprisingly, Impactor says yes. Counterpunch then became a part of an insane plan to turn the new Wreckers into a combining team, resulting in the creation of the Autobots’ most insane combiner since Superion- Wreckage.

Reimagine:

Punch’s defining traits are his split personality and his job as an Autobot spy. Especially since there is a lack of Autobot spies in media, mainly on TV. It would be cool if Punch keeps his role spy. Both of these traits could definitely be played with in several different ways:

For starters the Punch and Counterpunch dynamic could be explored in different ways. You could make it where Counterpunch could be an embodiment of Punch’s dark urges and impulses where he tends to let loose and doesn’t care whose caught in between; a wild card if you will. While he will play his role as a spy for the Autobots, he could just as likely attack his comrades if he felt like it.  Another possible way is using Counterpunch like a dark, twisted guardian for Punch, as the latter is a paranoid mess. He may even unknowingly protect Punch by doing actions that help alleviate suspicion off of them. 

This in return could affect how one views the other, especially as one becomes aware of the other: Punch could fear or hate his alter due to the danger and threat Counterpunch could pose. He could see Counterpunch as an escape from his terrifying life staying behind enemy lines and someone to blame if he ever felt like indulging in his dark impulses. Or he could find Counterpunch as a sort of ally/comrade to do the things he himself couldn’t do. For the latter one, maybe have Punch do some self-reflection on his and Counterpunch’s actions and try to understand what Counterpunch is.

One could even play with their awareness towards each other, like having both mechs be unaware of the other’s existence at first but over time they slowly come to realize there is another ego in their mind. Would one of them try to interact with the other? And if so, would they leave messages or clues or would one, especially Counterpunch, try to mess with or gaslight Punch? Also if they don’t share memories of the other, they could share emotions or feelings about individuals, which could explain/justify why Counterpunch is siding with the Autobots.  

And while it’s easy to write him off as “Punch’s evil split personality,” this can also be an attempt to explore what Counterpunch is as a character and give him some depth. Such as, is he just Punch playing a part? An alter that formed to deal with all the trauma and stress the bot went and is going through? Or was he an independent mech from the beginning and the war just gave him the freedom to show himself?

If one wants to make Counterpunch as a “good guy”, he could be written as one of the problem Autobots. His reasoning for siding with the Autobots despite having a personality and ideology similar to a Decepticon could be because of Punch’s lingering resentment, he himself doesn’t like being around others that are similar to him, or he just likes hurting his “comrades”. 

Even without the double mind for the double spy, it would be interesting having an Autobot pretending to be a Decepticon in order to gather information and we could see what it's like to be in that environment. We the audience could be privy to seeing Decepticons in the day to day life where they’re not plotting something. We could see Punch as he tried to navigate across the tightrope of blending in and trying to gather information, while reminding himself who his enemies are. We could see an Autobot who is forced to juggle actions involving facing his fellow Autobots in battle; is there a way to bluff his way out of the situation? Does he have to reveal where their location is? Or does he have to kill someone in order to keep his cover? Also if he encounters a Decepticon spy, he would have to figure out how to out him to the Autobots without blowing his own cover and minimizing the damage this spy would cause. 

This in turn could affect how he perceives his fellow bots. Due to his job he knows well enough that people have a side they keep hidden. As a result he puts on a façade of a calm bot in order to bring suspicion to himself. Even some of his superiors don’t escape from his paranoia. After all, how can he truly trust even his own leader if said leader was once close friends with a certain Con? But if there was someone Punch trusts completely he would let a small bit of his guard down, not completely after all someone could be listening to them. They would be the person around whom he would let his genuine emotions and concerns come out. And if they were in danger he would try his best to get them out while trying to keep his cover.

[thedarkgodmogar]

IM BACK WITH A FANFIC

Suprise bitch, bet you thought you’ve seen the last of me.

Anyways. I realize it’s been 3 years. Life happens, I had no ideas or motivation. But then suddenly i got a random idea for a stingue gang au fic and I actually wrote some of it! I decided to go ahead and share the first chapter, see if anyone likes it, and try to keep my motivation going. (it’s also just been years and i miss this soo) I promise I’ll try my best to keep up with this one.

First chapter of the stingue gang AU under the read more. Title TBD, but basically Sting’s an idiot and flirts too much.

When Sting walked into his boss’ office, he fully expected a beating.

He doesn’t know why, his last job had been flawless. He’d shot the boss of Titan Nose through the head before anyone even knew he had a gun, left the Sabertooth emblem on the wall to mark his work, and then took out half the gang on his way out. He didn’t know exactly why the boss wanted them gone, they seemed pretty small and insignificant. (Sting half suspected it was because they named themselves something stupid like Titan Nose.) But usually when one walked into Master Jiemma’s office, they leave with a black eye at the very least.

Sting’s never been one for fear. He’s lived on the streets his whole life, can shot someone through the eyes with a pistol fifty feet away, a rifle a hundred, and the last time someone got the better of him in a fight was Natsu Dragneel about three years ago- but that’s a story Sting would rather forget. Even with his aversion to fear, he has to stand outside the big mahogany door for several seconds, steeling himself for whatever the hell awaits him inside.

Come on, Eucliffe, stop being a little bitch and just get it over with.

With a resigned sigh, Sting pushes open the door. The air inside the office is heavy despite the rooms size and various windows; Sting’s never once seen a single window open to let in a cool breeze. His eyes scan the right side of the room, where large bookshelves are stacked against the wall, filled with all kinds of official ‘legal’ stuff Sting could never hope to understand. The left side is empty except for a door half hidden behind a curtain; despite his best efforts, Sting’s never been able to find out where that door leads. The walls are just bare concrete with what looks like old blood stains splattered at various spots, mostly along the bottom, and the wooden floorboards creak under his feet. No one can sneak around in here

Sting steps into the middle of the room, facing the desk in the very back. If Sting had any eye for interior design, he would call the piece of furniture pretty, with its large slab of redwood held up by two growling tigers. But he doesn’t have a sense of interior design, nor is he concerned about the desk. He’s more concerned about the man sitting behind it.

Even sitting down, Jiemma Orland is a hulking figure, easily over seven feet tall, and with muscles that are barely contained under his leather-looking skin. With beady eyes and long white beard, he looks like an ox on steroids.

“Master-”

“Do not speak unless spoken to,” Jiemma says in that booming, commanding voice that always makes Sting feel like an insect waiting to get stepped on. Sting promptly snaps his mouth shut.

Jiemma turns his beady red eyes on Sting. “You’ve completed the job.”

Sting knows it’s not a question, but he answers anyways, “Yes, Master. The Titan Nose boss is dead and his men scattered. They won’t-” “And the emblem?” Sting swallows hard. You haven’t done anything wrong. He has no reason to be mad… hopefully. “On the wall right over the boss’ head.”

Jiemma nods, and Sting lets himself breathe a sigh of relief. He watches as Jiemma pulls a file out of a drawer before quickly snapping it shut. He puts it on the far edge of the desk. Sting’s curiosity soars, but he remains still until given permission to move. “Another job, sir?”

Jiemma grunts in acknowledgment as Sting picks up the file, then nearly drops it when he sees the name scribbled across the top.

Cheney, Rogue. Fairy Tail.

Both infamous names in Fiore, one more so than the other. Fairy Tail is the strongest gang in the whole city, having taken over half the town, most of the ports (including Hargeon, the biggest port in the city), and import trades. The only gang keeping them from owning the entire city is Sabertooth, and it has been a long, long war. When Sting joined Sabertooth at age twelve, the fighting had already started. It’s said Fairy Tail had tried to resolve things peacefully a couple years before that by giving a few things, taking a few things, charging less for port usage, and sharing a little information. But Jiemma wanted only pure domination.

Everyone knows the story of Fairy Tail. It’s the other name on the file that holds his interest. Rogue Cheney, also known as the Shadow. It’s said they joined Fairy Tail around the same time Sting joined Sabertooth. If a suspect or political figure disappeared, or a bank robbery where the cameras didn’t even see who did it, The Shadow was the one behind it. Rogue Cheney has made quite the reputation for themselves.

“The maggot has been slinking around our territory,” Jiemma growls, dragging Sting out of his thoughts. “More weaklings have gone missing. The fairies need to be reminded who they’re dealing with. Do not fail me, Sting.”

  Sting nods, tucking the folder under his arm and bowing. “They will see the true might of Sabertooth. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good.” Jiemma waves his hand in dismissal. Sting quickly makes his way out of the office, an actual bounce in his step. He got out of there without getting his ass kicked! And he got a new job! Not just any job, he gets to fuck with Fairy Tail! Either there’s a glitch in the matrix, or luck is finally on his side.

As far as Sting is concerned, there are two main Fairy Tail teams: Team Natsu, and Team Target. Team Natsu was to be avoided at all costs until further notice. Unless he could manage to get Natsu alone, then maybe he’d have some fun. But, as loathe Sting was to admit it, the other members of that team were Fairy Tail’s main force, and too strong to take on all at once.

Team Target was exactly as the name said: his target (he’s never been the most creative with names). Consisting of Yukino Agria, Rufus Lore, Gajeel Redfox, and Rogue Cheney, they were a pretty formidable team of their own right. Yukino is known for being a master at hand-to-hand combat, specializing in martial arts, as well as picking any lock you put in front of her. Rufus is their main intelligence, with a mind like a snake and a memory like a steel trap, almost nothing gets by him. Next to Rogue, Gajeel Redfox is their main firepower. Sting’s heard stories of Gajeel ripping iron with his bare hands and using the ripped off piece to stab a man through his heart. Sting isn’t sure if he believes those stories, but all rumors come from some truth.

Sting’s spent several long days trying to figure out how to deal with them. There was no way he was getting to Rogue without going through them, but taking them on all at once would be stupid. Ugh, why do groups have to be so together all the time?

Whatever. He was done thinking about it. Now, Orga had agreed to go with him to one of the best clubs in the city, where he one hundred percent planned to get blackout drunk and find some hot dude to spend the night with.

The music was loud enough Sting could feel it shaking the floor under his feet, feel the heavy bass in his chest. The flashing strobe lights made the mob of people dancing almost look like a horror film. They also made his eyes hurt. He made his way to the separate, slightly more subdued bar area in the adjacent room, where he sat and ordered one of the strongest drinks they have.

“Goin’ out strong tonight, ya?” Orga laughed and clapped him on the back as he sat on the stool next to Sting.

Sting wouldn’t really say he has friends, but Orga Nanagear would be the next closest thing. Orga had a presence in a room that was just too hard to ignore, and not just because he’s nearly seven feet tall. He laughs a lot, and even though Sting suspects it’s because he’s high ninety-eight percent of the time, Sting still likes the sound. Not many people are seen laughing in Sabertooth. It doesn’t hurt that the big guy will go drinking with him anytime he asks.

“You know me. The worst part of not being drunk is being sober.” Sting raises his glass, then takes a long drink, the alcohol burning his throat.

“Ha!” Orga guffaws. “Well, ya better watch it tonight. Yer not gonna believe what a little birdie told me.” He looks at Sting expectantly, who just grunts in acknowledgment.

Orga leans in real close. Sting can smell the weed on his clothes. “Word is some punks from Fairy Tail are gonna be showin’ up tonight. Some birthday or somethin’. The Shadow was even seen with the lot of ‘em.”

Sting nearly drops his glass.

No. Fucking. Way.

Sting does his very best at pretending he didn’t almost have a heart attack. “How many fairies?”

The look Orga gives him shows his efforts are useless. “Dunno exactly. Think only about seven? Maybe ten? It’s a small party.” The grin on his face makes Sting want to punch him. “That Natsu kid is with ‘em. You lookin’ to get yer ass handed to ya again?”

Sting ignores that. Ten Fairies, all within striking distance. And Rogue is one of them. Maybe this is the chance he’s been looking for. He’ll have to be careful, especially with Natsu; he’s the only one likely to remember Sting’s face.

No, ten Fairies is too much. He just needs the one. If he dodges Natsu, he can get to Rogue. Slip in close when they’re not looking. He’s heard how Fairy Tail parties, even crashed a few when he was younger, before Jiemma found out and broke his ribs. They’ll be drunk within the hour. All of them except Rogue, who’s hatred for alcohol is a weird abnormality in these parts.

He can do this. After all, he’s a master at seduction.

Time to snare him a Shadow.

[jadekitty777]

Doomsday Dinner Party

Ooooh, we’re starting to hit some of my personal favorites for the week! 

Day 3 – Best-Worst Date @taiqrowweek

Summary: The world might be over as they know it, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still time for a dinner date. [Zombie/Walking Dead AU]

Rating: T

Warnings: Just your typical things you’d expect in a zombie story – gore and lots of cussing.

Ao3 Link: Doomsday Dinner Party

~

“What’s all this?”

Tai looked up at the tall, lanky man who had just entered the room. He waved to the spread along the table like a game show host would when showing off a prize. “Dinner.”

“Yeah but what’s with the candles and the-” He looked around the table as if hoping to find something else to point out and just settled for repeating, “…candles?”

“Qrow, if you are about to tell me you have never been on a date before when you are the smoothest motherfucker I have ever known, I’m going to develop a complex.” Tai deadpanned.

The man barked a surprised laugh, raising a hand to his mouth to stifle some of it, but the wide grin stayed. “I think we’ve been hanging out too much if you’re starting to talk like me.”

“Your sense of humor is hilarious.” He retorted, pointing to the chair opposite him. “Now sit your ass down and eat.”

“Yes sir!” He saluted him before doing as told. He picked up his fork, looking down at the blue-trimmed plate.  To pretend the warmed up can of green beans and the strips of beef jerky was a feast by any measure of the word was so utterly absurd Qrow didn’t even bother joking about it as he carried on, “And you even dug out the good china and silverware! You really went all out. All for lil’ ol’ me?  What’s the occasion? Wait!” He mock gasped. “Please don’t tell me I forgot our anniversary.”

“Qrow this is our first date. Shut up already.” His tone was as dry as the Arizona desert, unamused at the other’s antics. He paused, then added hesitantly, “I just, wanted something normal. You know?”

The other speared some vegetables, expression bitter. “Nothing’s normal anymore.”

Tai looked away. “Yeah.”

There was a thick lull that settled, no other sound but a battery-powered clock that was miraculously still ticking. Qrow broke it with a sigh, “I’m being an ass again, aren’t I?”

“Lil’ bit.”

“Sorry.” He pointed finger-guns at him and winked, “Let me make it up to you tonight baby. I’ll rock your world.”

“Oh for the love of God. You’re the fucking worst.” Tai groaned.

“Since you’re like the only other person in a three-hundred mile radius, does that mean I get second place? Because, I gotta say, that’s actually a step up for me.”

He couldn’t decide if the joke was in bad taste or not, but it was so left field he couldn’t help but chuckle, if only because Qrow’s eternal insufferableness still managed to be endearing. He wasn’t the only other person in a three-hundred mile radius – or at least he hoped he wasn’t. It was hard to say if they just hadn’t seen anyone else because they weren’t staying in one place for very long or if just that few people had survived once the real fallout began.

The news of a chemical bomb striking Canada in early September had hit overnight and by that morning, Tai was being called to arms for the national crisis. He barely had time to think as he packed up some of the girls’ clothes and toys and dropped them off with his ex-wife. “It’ll be just a few weeks. I’ll be home in time for Christmas.” He had told them just before he drove off to the nearest military airport in central Texas.

Christmas was months ago.

The attack had been without provocation and even if the source was ever determined, his platoon had never been told. At first, his only assignment was to provide immediate relief to surviving victims – but upon arrival, he’d found himself in a warzone. No one knew what to make of it. It was like a nightmare as they were overwhelmed by a force they hadn’t been prepared to fight.

The dead just… coming back to life. The bodies of former comrades rising from the ground, mindless and hungry before they turned on them. If one was lucky, either they killed it or were killed. If one was unlucky and only got bit, then it was days of suffering as the body overran with the volatile sickness that had people running high-grade fevers and coughing up blood. By the time they had figured anything out, so many were already gone – and it only grew worse as information of in-home attacks started coming in. The chemicals had poisoned the air and spread across the states and into Mexico. Hospitals and morgues were overrun within days and, soon, entire towns.

Tai could still hear Summer’s terrified cries as he gave her directions to a military encampment and told her to take the girls and stay there. Gave promises he doubted he could keep that he would come get them. Choked down his own sobs when he told his girls, maybe for the last time, how much he loved them.

He tried to reach Raven as well, but his ex-girlfriend never answered. He left the information on her machine anyways, praying she got it but fearing it was already too late.

After a month, the blackouts started. Reports stopped coming in. Within another week, people started to desert. He followed his own squad as far as the Montana border and that was about when General Ironwood, sounding a little unhinged, started talking plans about storming the Pentagon. For what reason, he never made clear, but that was all Tai needed to hear to know it was time to set out on his own. He tried to invite Winter along, knowing his lieutenant was desperate to head to California where her own family was but, for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, she declined, leaving him only her blessings.

Getting out of just Montana took weeks; the streets were crowded with abandoned cars and being forced to avoid towns with large populations was making him take detour after detour. It was shortly after the ground was dusting with the season’s thicker snowfall that he found himself in a department store, desperately searching for something, anything, to eat. What greeted him instead was a grand ol’ view of some guy’s pale ass while he slipped on a pair of “free” boxers in the middle of an aisle.

That was how he met Qrow.

They bonded over a pack of Oreos and some Snapple. As it turned out, they were both headed the same way. Qrow had an estranged twin sister he hadn’t seen in years but knew had been living in Wichita Falls. “It’s appropriate, since she’s a witch herself” He had jeered. Apparently, the two had been split up when their parents divorced and they hadn’t kept close contact over the years. When Tai asked why he’d seek her out at all, the other man just shrugged and looked away, his gaze dark. “Nothing else for me here.”

He didn’t ask any more questions after that.

“Gotta say,” Qrow’s voice brought him back to the present. He was eyeing some of the candles that were burning brightly on the kitchen counter. “I know I’m being a bit of jerk about it but, this is actually kind of nice.”

He smiled happily though he couldn’t resist teasing, “That’s only making me worry more that this really is your first date.”

“Of course not. Just, I always had a bit of trouble keeping my relationships long term. My longest was maybe a year and then I just started to purposely distance myself until Oz got fed up and walked.” He scratched the end of his nose, looking both a mixture of amused and sheepish. “According to my old AA coach, aside from all the rampant drinking, I also have a bad habit of sabotaging myself due to my insecurities. Purposely avoiding calls and being late. Picking fights just because. That sort of thing. It was part of my ‘recovery’ to work on it.” He rolled his shoulders some, “But obviously, I still do it.”

“You’re not that bad.” Tai reassured. After a moment, he snorted and added, “Actually, you’re no worse than me really. I tend to rush things. I was jumping into bed with Rae without asking all the important questions. She never wanted to be a mom, but I didn’t find that out until after she was pregnant with Yang.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his face flushing with embarrassment. “And with Summer, I somehow was even worse. I proposed after we were only together six months. So when she just told me one morning she wanted a divorce because she wasn’t happy with me, well… that was a hell of a blow. I told myself next time I’d do it right and take things slow.” He looked across the table, waving between them, thinking of the various nights they had lain together. “Instead, I’ve upgraded to pulling off the clothes before the first date.”

“Wow, we’re perfect for each other.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Qrow chuckled, popping a strip of jerky in his mouth and saying around it, “To be fair, there’s not much opportunity to do anything slow right now.”

“Nor is self-improvement a high priority when you’re constantly running for your life.” He countered. He had to wonder what it said about both of them that, despite knowing those things, they were still making an effort regardless.

“For what it’s worth,” Qrow said as he set his fork down, “If I have to walk through this hell on earth, I-”

He never got to finish before the sound of a siren loudly going off jolted them both to their feet. They stared at one another with wide eyes, before they hurried to peer out the kitchen window. They had holed up in a small, fenced in home that was part of the rural district on the north side of town. They hadn’t bothered to waste energy clearing the streets, so they could see how the straggling dead were lifting their heads and starting to stumble down the street.

Tai turned his head some, listening to the pulsing drones that echoed across the town. “Is that… the tornado siren?”

“How is it even going off?”

He shook his head. “They have back-up power for emergencies. Maybe something malfunctioned?” Or someone was setting it off intentionally, though he couldn’t fathom the reason why if that were the case. “Either way, that’s gonna attract a lot of attention if it keeps up.”

Qrow took a few steps back, frowning. “Then we need to leave, now.” He turned, heading for the den where their stuff was. “Can’t get a damn bit of sleep like this.”

Tai glanced out at the darkness warily, not really liking the idea of traveling at night. But knowing the alternative could be worse if they got caught in an unexpected horde, he blew out the candles and joined the other in gathering their things. They searched the house one last time for any last provisions they could scrounge up and poured the melted wax from the candles before packing them up too. Most of the lumbering dead had made it to the street corner by the time they stepped outside and the jarring noise of the alert and the thickness of the summer’s heat and humidity pressed down on them.

Tai pulled open the gate while Qrow started the car, the roar of the engine gearing up being lost to the siren’s call. He hopped into the passenger seat, saying, “Looks like they’re heading towards the center of town.”

“Then we know where we’re not going.” He backed the car up, heading up the street. “Alright navigator, which way should we go?”

“Go left. We should avoid the main street.” Tai said, turning on the overhead light and unfolding their map. He ran his finger down the blue trail lines. Even though the 44 was a straight shot into Wichita, they definitely wanted to avoid going through Lawton. “If we keep going down this way, eventually we’ll hit a road that crosses into the 17. We can follow it up to Sterling and stay there for the night. It’s mostly just countryside from here to there. Should only take an hour or so.”

The other nodded, leaning back some as he drove with one hand. Tai could have believed he was entirely relaxed, if not for the white-knuckled grip he had on the wheel. “Sounds good to me.”

He clicked the light back off and settled back as well. With no street lamps and the moon barely a crescent, there wasn’t much to see. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; without all the light pollution, the sky was littered with more stars then he’d ever seen in his entire life. Clusters upon clusters of them that shaded the sky in a dark sapphire blue and the barest hint of violet nebula clouds that he’d taken to admiring during times when they were holed up and safe. Sometimes Qrow would join him and they’d huddle under a shared blanket as they tried to pretend they knew anything about constellations.

“They’re not all dragons Tai.”

“Oh fine.” He moved his finger in a few wide arcs.

“What are you making?”

“A crow. The dragon needs a meal after all.”

“I can’t decide if you’re trying to scare me or seduce me.”

After a few minutes, they were already out of the small town and into nothing but miles of dark fields on either side. Qrow was keeping their speed tempered so they could avoid any potential hazards. Still, Tai tried to stay alert, knowing they could come upon something at a moment’s notice whether it be an abandoned vehicle or a shambling body. It was why he didn’t miss something shifting in the dark and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I see it.” Qrow murmured softly, the headlights illuminating the form of a deteriorating body that was reaching out for them before he swerved carefully around it.

A few feet later, there was a small group of about three that they also drove around. When they hit another cluster, this one a little bigger, Tai felt tension coiling within him, gripping his own knee tightly. “Qrow…”

His partner shifted forward, gripping onto the wheel with both hands now, “Maybe we – fuck!” The tires screeched as he slammed on the brakes.

Tai caught himself on the dashboard as momentum jerked him forward, heart stuttering to a stop at the sight of the massive horde now illuminated in their headlights. They came lurching towards the car, the sound of their snarls loud over the hum of the engine, a few hands banging onto the hood.

Beside him, Qrow cursed again as he fumbled for the gear shift, throwing them into reverse. “HOLD ON!” Tires screeched as he hit the gas pedal hard and they shot backwards, only for them to slam into the bodies that had been behind them. The whole car shook hard enough toss them in their seats and rattle their bones.

And then the back of the car pitched upwards like it was on a hill and stopped.

Qrow’s breathing was coming out in rapid pants, slamming his foot on the gas again and again as the mass of dead came closer. The tires were spinning but the car wasn’t moving. He gave a yell of frustration, tearing off his seatbelt and reaching over the backseat for his weapon. “Get our stuff, I’ll cover you!”

Tai didn’t argue, throwing open his door. It smashed into a few of the bodies that had started to come close and he dove out of the car, pulling open the back seat, tossing the duffel bag and backpack over his shoulders. While he was, Qrow slid across the hood of the car, landing on his side and swinging his gardening scythe in a fierce arc, looking much like the grim reaper himself as he lobbed off a few heads.

Tai unsheathed his own machete knife, slamming it up the underside of someone’s jaw, a harsh kick dislodging her and throwing her down. “Come on!”

The other threw a few more wild swings before turning and sprinting back down the road with him, his long legs making it effortless in catching up, angling his weapon astride himself. Their feet pounded together on the asphalt, a discordant harmony to the growls and snarls following behind them. “Now what?!”

“We run back to town!” Tai replied, reaching behind him to grope for the mesh pocket on the side of the backpack. They had only been driving a little while. They couldn’t be more than a few miles from town – but even if they got back, then what? Unless the horde moved on, they’d be trapped. His hand caught around the flashlight and he yanked it out in front of him, the beam of light bouncing along the road as he tried to guide their way, only to reveal a slowly growing crowd stumbling up on the street from the west side. “Shit! This way!”

They ran a diagonal path into the fields, the tall weeds swallowing their shins. The taller pushed back his bangs, throwing a look over his shoulder. “Why are there so many?!”

He yelled back between gasps for air, sweat already slicking his skin from the heat. “They must be coming off the freeway! They’re probably following the others because of the siren!” And now they were following them, pushing them away from the road and from the town. Without having slept or eaten well lately, Tai knew they were going to run out of energy very quickly. If they didn’t think of something soon, they were going to die.

Qrow slowed his pace some, squinting at a dark, imposing shape they were quickly approaching. “I think something’s ahead of us!”

He held the flashlight forward, exposing circles of white that didn’t make sense at first until they started to get closer. It was a brick wall that was about nine feet tall and, as he waved it down both sides, found it was covering a few acres worth of land. They’d never be able to run along it without being intercepted.

His grit his teeth as he realized their only choice was to go over.

As he put away the flashlight and his knife, Tai looked to the man beside him, the worried look on Qrow’s face clearly telling him he was coming to the same conclusion. “Can you make that jump?”

“Yeah, I got it!”

As they came to the wall, Tai ran ahead, finding purchase against the brick, lunging upwards. His right hand caught along the back of the fence, using the leverage to pull himself up. As he did, a scythe flew by, Qrow having pitched it over like it was a javelin. He looked over, seeing the other man distancing himself a few paces before rushing forward and taking a leap.

The tips of his fingers grasped onto the edge before he was falling back to the ground. The man cursed, stumbling backwards and shaking out his hands before trying again. His second attempt fell even shorter. Qrow looked up at him, panicked, while the growls behind him grew ever closer. “Uh, Tai?!”

Tai glanced to the other side of the wall, seeing nothing in the enclosure except some large tanks – a propane facility, possibly – and yanked off the bags, throwing them over the side. He swung around, jumping back down. “I’m gonna vault you over, alright?” He clasped his hands together into a make-shift stirrup. “Put your foot here and put the other on the wall. You jump and I’ll push you upwards. Got it?”

“Yeah!” He replied, placing his foot in his hand as told.

He counted down, “One, two, three, JUMP!” Suddenly, all of Qrow’s weight was on him as he hopped up. Tai’s arms shook with the strain, lifting the other’s leg high when he was able to grab the edge again, the extra height giving him the boost he needed to scrabble on top. Once he was sure the other was secure, he took a few steps back as he readied himself again.

Just as he was about to run forward, a hand grasped onto the back of his shirt and a hiss echoed in his ears.

“TAI!”

Acting on instinct, he threw his arm back, his elbow driving home into the nose of his captor, throwing him and his gnashing teeth miles from his shoulder. He pivoted on his toes as he drew his machete again, hurling it into the skull of another, but when it didn’t slice through like he wanted, he just used the leverage to push the stumbling dead into the crowd behind him, making quite a few fall down like they were dominos. More continued to stagger over them.

Qrow had stood, running lengthwise along the wall as he pulled out his pistol and took shots. “HEY! HEEEY OVER HERE!” The noise he was making was drawing most of them his way.

Taking the opportunity, Tai dashed forward and scurried up the wall a second time, finding it much harder this time when his whole body shook with effort. He straddled the wall, the adrenalin that had kept him going waning fast. His heart was hammering hard, lungs and eyes burning, muscles trembling with strain and clothes stuck to sweat-soaked skin. He waved when his partner called in concern, wordlessly pointing to the other side, and they both hopped down to the other side. Tai fell back against the wall, hand against his chest as he caught his breath.

Qrow hurried across the grass, fishing again for the flashlight before he turned it on, giving several long, slow sweeps of the area. Other than the tanks he had seen before, there was a single, long, metal warehouse at the far end of the facility. But nothing else. For now, they were safe.

He pulled off from the wall, walking over. “We did it Qr-!”

The flashlight hit the ground, the beam of light dancing as it rolled away, and Qrow whirled on him, dragging him forward into a bruising kiss. After a moment, Tai tore off his bloody gloves, tangling his clean hands into the other man’s hair, kissing back with equal fervor. He hummed pleasurably as their tongues tangled together, the other’s hands slipping up his chest and around his neck.

When they pulled apart, the other whispered breathlessly against his lips. “I’m glad it’s with you.”

“What?” Tai gasped back.

Qrow pulled back slightly, his gaze intense as he said heatedly. “If I had to walk through this hell on earth, I’m glad it’s with you.”

Tai stared back at him, his heart thudding again for an entirely different reason as he replied, “Yeah. Me too.” And then he lent forward, capturing his lips in another kiss.

~ A/N: Not written – the moment when these two discover that Qrow’s twin sister and Tai’s former girlfriend is the same person.

Also, a dad’s happy reunion with his two precious daughters because for god’s sake I’mnotamonster.

[shaldreth]

I fell in love with Lotor and then realized he's a fucking idiot

AKA: a (bad) dissertation on Lotor's potential as a character and how his motivations basically undermined all of it. 

Spoilers through the end of season 6; written pre-season 7.  

Let's just get my credentials out of the way first: I recently watched Seasons 1-6 of Voltron in the span of about 2 months. I am vaguely aware of some fandom discourse. I know very little about the original Voltron show or its plot except what I've gathered from a single day browsing the wiki. And finally, I love manipulative trash cans. Doesn't matter if they've got gray morality, complete amorality, or if they're just plain evil: I unironically enjoy their existence (the only exception is Ni Jianyi who terrifies me, but, well, I attribute that to good writing). 

So imagine my delight when in his very first episode, Lotor demonstrated that he'd been very competently keeping tabs on the political status of the central Galran Command even while exiled by: rooting out his main opponents, publically humiliating them, and positioning his Generals strategically in the audience to ensure that the crowd's response was positive and enthusiastic, all within probably a quintant or two of getting back. ....And then he blatantly admitted to manipulating public opinion not five minutes later. ....While looking unfairly gorgeous. 

As character introductions go, it set a really fucking high bar, and I think a lot of people were immediately invested in learning what his endgame was. Regardless of whether his ultimate goals were ‘good’ or ‘evil’, people expected them to be competent and..... worthy. Worthy of all the time and effort that was put into this character, and the show in general. And then S6 happened. So buckle up friends because we’re gonna take an in-depth look at his journey from potential political mastermind to... merely obsessed, like his father. 

Immediately after being appointed Emperor Pro Tem, Lotor goes out and retakes a recently liberated planet to bait out Voltron. Which is.... something that we never actually saw his father do. Ever. Zarkon seemed content to let rebel planets stay lost, which is really silly and not at all a sustainable method of ruling an empire (suggesting that Zarkon probably would have lost control of a large portion of the Empire sooner or later anyway even if Voltron hadn't managed to destroy him in Blackout). Anyway, it showed that Lotor is a competent tactician, since he gets exactly the information he needs and does way more damage to Voltron than he probably expected to. He even follows up properly by calling in reinforcements to save his ass fortify the newly retaken planet, which may have given him a nice boost in popularity back home. 

(It also set up a number of obvious parallels between Lotor’s Generals and the Paladins of Voltron. Excellent teamwork and loyalty? Check. Cheerful personality? Check. Big strong type? Check. Brooding, dark-haired second in command? Check. ...Wait, that makes Narti Pidge’s parallel. Or maybe Shiro’s, since she’s sometimes mind controlled....? ANYWAY. )

We start to see a couple cracks in episodes 4 and 6, because it becomes clear that Lotor is actually not spending that much time managing the Empire. He's way more interested in getting the materials to build the Sincline ships. At this point in the series he's still doing a great job of evading detection and throwing misdirection everywhere to keep Haggar from guessing what he's up to, so it starts to look like he's trying to undermine the Empire from within. I mean, think about it: he set himself up publically as a celebrity to strengthen the Empire, and then he disappeared and did none of that. He even exiled Throk, one of his biggest political enemies to Buttfuck, Space - Population: Ice Worms after his public humiliation. Which is a really bad idea if you want to keep a guy out of trouble, but a really good idea if you want to give a guy the time and space he needs to get angry, start another rebellion, and further destabilize the Empire. 

Lotor has lived in exile for years; he himself is the perfect example for how people rebel when sent to some corner of the universe with minimal supervision. He should know better than anyone that exile is a bad way to actually get rid of someone, yet he does it anyway. 

Season 4 pretty much cements the idea that Lotor never actually wanted to rule the current Galra Empire, and was only using its resources for his own gain. He's removed from the position of Emperor Pro Tem with minimal fuss, and probably would have been quite happy to lay low for a while afterwards.... except that his dad then tries to kill him and he does the really dumb thing. I think almost everyone agrees that killing Narti was one of the dumbest things Lotor could have done. He could knock her out? Kill the cat??  Anything other than ruin his own party???

But nah. He stabs Narti and immediately the parallels between his group of Generals and Voltron shatter, because they betray him and try to turn him in to Haggar. Or, rather, he betrayed them.... .....actually maybe the parallels still apply, because I'm pretty sure that if Kuron had actually stabbed any of the Paladins at any point, the rest would have flipped out as well, so really the entire arc may be more of a statement on Galra culture as a whole..... 

ANYWAY, the whole Narti thing might look like the place where everything starts to go south, but it actually doesn't ruin any of Lotor's potential. Killing Narti could either be the callous act of someone who's bad at communication and doesn't actually care about his team (which is his team's interpretation, and a fair one), or it could be taken as a really stupid moment of panic, which I’d argue is a little more interesting, since Lotor never panics. But either way, the outcome was the same: as soon as he had control taken away from him, he turned desperate and all his flaws started to come out. Narti's death was one of the dumbest things Lotor ever did, but I also want to argue that it's the one act that opened up his narrative potential the most, because it could have sparked some interesting discussion about whether all of his actions are due to being arrogant, maladjusted, and self-absorbed... or if any can be attributed to fear.

Unfortunately, while fanfiction capitalized on that potential immediately, the show never really did. I was hoping for a season of self-reflection as Lotor used his intelligence and manipulative skills to sway Voltron to his side and overthrow Zarkon and Haggar in retaliation for his one miscalculation of the series. I wouldn't even have been mad if he had betrayed Voltron again at the end, because it would have been in keeping with his suggested characterization so far, and I like competent opponents with actual realistic goals.

Season 5 looked like it was on track! Lotor was clearly still doing his best to manipulate Voltron as much as he could from a prison cell, furthering his goals despite his enormous setback. It's not really clear how many of his accomplishments during this season are due to careful planning and how many are due to luck; did he know Zarkon would offer the prisoner exchange? Did he know Sendak was going to be at the Kral Zera? Did he know Shiro was Kuron and would secretly hand over the Black Bayard so he actually had a fighting chance against Zarkon? ....Probably no to the last one, since it hinged on Honerva remembering her son, but who knows. 

Regardless, Lotor takes a lot of risks and makes a lot of progress. He actually becomes Emperor. Dude, holy shit, congrats. Take a breather and regroup!! That big of an milestone should have been enough for anyone, but instead he pushed his luck searching for Oriande, becoming completely dependent on Allura for her guidance and her protection, and then he failed the White Lion's trial. Like, completely whiffed it. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. The S6 finale makes it clear that Lotor's morals and goals are almost completely opposite Allura's, and that should have been the perfect place to start developing him further as.... you know, an actual emperor and moral counterpoint?

Instead, we got Season 6, where Lotor turned his fakeness meter up to 11 to seduce Allura. ...Badly. Like... really badly. ... Okay, listen the nanny thing was weird, there’s no denying that. She showed up for one episode out of completely nowhere and was never mentioned again. But Lotor felt more natural during that first episode of S6 than he did the entire rest of the season while romancing Allura, and I think that was probably on purpose. His voice and his face and his smile when he spoke with Allura were all the same ones he used during his first scene in the gladiator ring, when manipulating public opinion. I don’t think we were ever really meant to believe in Lotor’s feelings for Allura when his very character was introduced with the same sort of deception. 

And all of that would still have been fine if he hadn’t had such a stupid final motivation. I suppose Season 6 makes sense when you consider that his ultimate goals actually had nothing to do with the Galra Empire, but it doesn’t feel like a good culmination of his character arc. So, knowing that his ultimate goal was the creation of a new Altean Empire, Let’s briefly review: 

- Lotor spent three seasons manipulating the public to gather support and popularity. The conclusion of this was Kral Zera, where he actually became Emperor. But none of this matters. “Emperor of the Galra” is actually unrelated to “Emperor of the New Alteans”, or whatever. Unless his plan was to marry Allura and spend the next 10,000 years carefully integrating his Alteans into the Galran Empire while giving them every advantage possible, becoming the Galran Emperor didn’t actually have much to do with his Altean goals. His Alteans aren’t Galra citizens. So why spend that much time making himself popular with a race he hated? Narcissism??? 

- Lotor may have also spent three seasons subtly supporting rebellion across the Galran Empire, because he made a couple conspicuously bad decisions when it came to handling his political opponents/rebellion planets. Conspicuously bad enough to be deliberate, given what we know of him as a competent tactician. But supporting rebellion would only have helped him if he had planned to use rebellion to take over, and we just established that being the Galra Emperor doesn’t actually help his main goals. So does that make all the seasons of subtle rebel support.... a side-effect? Carelessness? Supporting the Voltron Coalition didn’t really matter if he intended to replace Voltron with his own shiny robot. 

- Lotor’s generals are all half-galra. Originally, it seemed like he had chosen to align himself with societal outcasts because he could inspire loyalty and comraderie in them, and because after a lifetime of discrimination at the hands of Central Command, they’d probably be willing to support his rebellion. That’s, like, a huge fanfic canon. But instead, his final, power-driven speech suggests that he chose half-galra Generals simply because he couldn’t stand to work with full-blooded Galra. Which makes his close-knit team and all their beautiful parallels with Voltron... accidental??

- Lotor spent let’s say... a season and a half? trying to seduce Allura.  This makes the most sense out of all of his goals, because marrying into the last remaining full-blooded Altean royalty totally fits with the New Altean Empire. What’s stupid here is how he handled it. Instead of coming clean about his Altean colony and, I don’t know, properly hiding his tracks as soon as he realized he could marry royalty?? He left the quintessence farm up and running. We know Lotor can get into and out of the rift way faster than Keith and Krolia, so there was really nothing stopping him from going to hide a couple skeletons in his closet sooner than never. He could probably have won Allura’s loyalty forever if he had presented her with an Altean colony and pretended to need her help restoring Altean culture; instead, he did dumb. 

I’m just... I’m sad, okay? I’m not sad because he was evil; I’m sad because he didn’t want to be his father, and he absolutely turned into his father, and there were almost no signs of that until the very end. He could have been evil and still competent! While there are parts of Lotor that are really well written, it seems like they were all pushed to the side to make way for his obsession - an obsession he wasn’t even that obsessed about previously!!! - in the final couple episodes of Season 6, and he just... does so many stupid things. 

So really, in conclusion, either Lotor got quintessence sickness, Haggar made a Lotor clone while he was visiting her that one time, or we should all be more sympathetic of Zarkon's stupidity in Seasons 1 and 2 because clearly Galra politics are infuriating enough that being Emperor for a couple pheobs was enough to make Lotor lose his McFreaking Mind. Zarkon had been Emperor for 10,000 years; it's understandable that he was a little quirky.

Also, I saw a post a few weeks ago that basically said “the worst thing that can happen to Lotor is that he comes back from the void and gets obsessed with Allura like in the original show”, and I wish I could find it again, so if you know that post, pls link me. And I agree, that would really really suck, I don’t want that. But I’m hopeful that the writers just decided to adapt his character a little, so that instead of being obsessed with the Altean Princess, he was instead obsessed with Altea, and therefore that arc is already over. But I guess we’ll find out soon! Fingers crossed. 

Feel free to comment with alternate interpretations of everything here!

[akaiikowrites]

talk is cheap (and i’ve got expensive taste) pt. 2

Summary: “It’s like Romeo and Juliet only with frat parties.” Katara might be drunk, but she’s still pretty sure she just met her soulmate. [College AU]

Notes: for @zutaramonth 2017, day fourteen, drinking games. part one. ao3. very slightly less shitposty because i had to make room for the feels. behold the glorious (ish?) conclusion to this two shot.

Completely obliterating the curve for her organic chem final despite having an epic hangover and a sprained ankle very nearly makes up for the fact he doesn’t call her.

“You didn’t even give him your last name,” Toph points out. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she suddenly lunges forward in a lightning round of jabs that pushes the sandbag back a few inches. Despite the effort her breathing remains even as she bounces back. “I don’t think you can blame this one on him, Sugar Queen. And I’m all for blaming guys.”

Truer words have never been spoken. Finishing the wrapping on her knuckles, Katara says, “My turn with the sandbag next.”

A few weeks into the next semester the Epsilon Kappa House catches on to Toph’s cons.

There’s not much they can do about it besides banning Toph and, by extension, Katara from attending their parties. Of course Toph and Katara only find that out when they’re told to leave at eleven at night during a kegger. Defiant to the bitterest end, Toph backs out of the house with both middle fingers raised. It’s a beautiful moment.

“Home?” Katara asks. It’s cold as balls out. The miniskirt she put on isn’t helping matters. Even if she did spend two hours getting ready, this isn’t worth it, and she wants to go watch Netflix until she passes out.

Cracking her neck, Toph says, “No. We’re going to the Lambdas.”

Which is almost a worse idea than wearing a miniskirt in February. “No,” Katara says. She wants to sound firm, but it’s ruined by her teeth chattering. Irony is somewhere in an Inuit girl being cold. “Toph, no.”

“Toph, yes.”

Lambda’s a fifteen minute walk to the exact opposite end of Greek Row. Technically they’re outside of Greek Row. A shadow frat. The kind that has all the best rumors about blood sacrifices and dead pledges and raging parties. Mysterious. Dangerous. Sketchy as fuck.

Somehow she’s a little surprised that it’s taken them until their junior year to make it here. Eventually they were bound to run out of frat parties to crash on account of Toph’s schemes. Maybe she should be grateful.

There’s a party going on. There’s always a party going on.

Within minutes Toph’s set up her usual arm wrestling game. It’s her favorite mostly because no one can beat her. Katara needs about eight shots to handle the music, the crowd, and the ever present scent of smoke. Also she might be resenting Toph for this. Just a little.

Katara walks into the dining room, or what she assumes is the dining room, keeping to the edges as she tries to make her way toward the kitchen. She glances through the crowd mostly because she’s curious what’s holding sway over a good twenty drunken college students. That’s how she sees the love of her life and the jerk ex boyfriend of her past down shots of vodka. They slam their shot glasses down on the dining room table in the same moment. Everyone erupts into drunken cheers. There’s a sizeable pile of shot glasses next to both of them.

The love of her life has the decency to notice her staring at him. He looks like he just got hit with lightning. “Katara?” he asks. It’s almost a yell, but he’s got a way of softening it. That’s another thing she likes about him. Feeling a little dizzy with the fact that he noticed her and remembered her name, she lifts a hand in a half wave and smiles.

Meanwhile, the ex leans closer to the love of her life so he can see her. “Katara?” he yells. There is no softening. The jagged line of her eyebrows brings back bad memories.

“Fuck off, Jet.”

Without waiting for a response, she starts shoving her way through the crowd again. Heart beating in her throat she waits until the next round of cheers goes up and her hand’s closed around an opened bottle of tequila. Not much of a consolation but she takes it. Has to take it.

Knocking back nine shots in quick succession, her brain finally processes that she could’ve gone and dragged Toph out. Pulled the “I’m your best and only female friend you have to walk home with me so I don’t die” card. Now that the buzz has taken the edge off, she wonders if she should still do that, or if maybe she should go back to the dining room.

The decision is made for her.

She’s staring into her tenth shot when Jet comes swaggering up and into her space. “Hey, baby,” he says. Between the dining room and here, he managed to find a toothpick, which he’s chewing on. When they were dating she always thought he must have a whole pack of them hidden on him.

“No,” she says. Narrowing her eyes up at him, she dares him to try fucking with her. They both know how that ended last time.

Jet’s chewing pauses. “Baby,” he says. “God, you look pretty tonight. Pretty as a picture.” Low, coaxing, to match the way his hands reach for her hips like he’s going to pull her closer. It worked so many times during their short relationship.

Now it just ends with him stumbling back and swearing at the tequila in his eyes. Katara’s just tipsy enough to find it funny. Hilarious, even. One of her hands reaches out to grasp the counter to keep herself from collapsing to the floor in helpless giggles.

Someone’s at her back. Hands cup her elbows and lift her from her half collapsed position. Katara tips her head back and glimpses a firm mouth and dark scar. That’s enough to let herself fall back into him. He doesn’t even stumble back, just takes her weight and redistributes it, so mostly she’s tucked under one of his arms. Clutching at his tee with one hand, she says, “I think the tequila was spiked.”

Briefly she comes to. It’s cold on her legs except for where there are hands gripping her thighs. She’s wearing a leather jacket that smells like everything wonderful. Her face is mushed into the back of someone’s neck. Toph’s voice says, “I can’t believe she passed out on you.”

It’s four am and she’s in her bed. She’s still wearing his jacket. “It’s like Romeo and Juliet,” Katara moans. Her mouths feels like fuzzy caterpillars and she’s pretty sure if there was anything left in her stomach, she’d puke. Again. If she puked. Honestly, she can’t remember if she puked. “Only with frat parties.”

“Katara, they die at the end.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m dying now.”

An unknown number calls her three days later. Normally she wouldn’t bother answering but she’s waiting to hear back about a study abroad application so she picks it up with a cheery, “Hello, Katara Foster speaking!” Like a fucking well adjusted person who didn’t get blackout drunk three nights ago.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to find you but Katara I don’t know how to use Facebook and your blind friend made me go on a spirit quest with her in exchange for your number except it wasn’t your number it was your brother’s? Because our spirit quest sucked. I ended up having to go break your dad out of this biker bar with him, and then there was a riot, and now we all have matching tattoos. I might have told your dad about carrying you home. I think he expects me to marry you. And it’s a little soon for that but maybe we could at least do dinner while we’re both sober?”

“You’re the reason everyone’s been disappearing?” That’s not what she meant to say. Something scathing and witty would’ve been nice. Or at least a solidly aggravated oh my god.

An awkward silence. A cough. “Yes?”

Reaching up, Katara pinches the bridge of her nose. Inhaling deeply, she tries to sort through everything that brought her here, to this very moment. Fighting a lost cause, as they say. “Let me... Let me get this straight. You went on a spirit quest? With Toph?”

“Yes.”

“And went on a roadtrip with my brother?”

“Yes.”

“And got matching tattoos with him and my dad?”

“Yes.”

“All to get my number because you couldn’t figure out Facebook?”

“...yes.”

Finally it comes. “Oh my god.” The relief at saying it almost matches the sheer aggravation that comes with it. “I can’t believe you— What kind of— Why would you do that?”

There’s no hesitation in him. “Because I like you.” Maybe he’s thinking she’ll ask him why—and she’s not going to ask, she has a feeling it involves her being pretty, like it always does with guys—because he says, “You’re strong, and kind, and smart. You can’t hold your liquor and you’re friends with a conwoman and you stuffed snow down my shirt as part of some weird courtship ritual. You don’t take my bullshit. I like you.”

Weirdly there’s this kind of burny pressure behind her eyes. Almost like she’s about to cry, which is ridiculous, because why would she cry over something like this? Except the burny feeling is only getting worse.

“You like me?” she says. It comes out sniffly and awful and she kind of wants to punch herself in the face.

“Yes,” he says. By now he should sound exasperated because she’s been ridiculous this whole conversation but instead he sounds almost soft. Tentative, like he wants to treat her gently, as he says, “Yes, I like you.”

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Zuko.”

[artbytesslyn]

Hi! Do you have like, a list of headcaons for widow somewhere? Your take on her is super interesting and i wanna know more!!!

because lots of people are asking where I ‘align’ myself Widowmaker-wise, here’s a handy list that will also help interpret my art. Most of these are headcanons! It’s okay if you disagree with them! Anyway, here’s the sections included under the READMORE:

WIDOWMAKER AND AMELIEPRE-TALONTHE LACROIX TRAGEDY (The Gerard and Amelie dynamic)WIDOWMAKER AND SOMBRA DYNAMICWIDOWMAKER AND MERCY DYNAMICWIDOWMAKER AND REAPER DYNAMICWIDOWMAKER (HEALTH)

It’s long!

WIDOWMAKER AND AMELIE-

-Widowmaker is NOT capable of reverting to a healthy Amelie, by the ‘power of love’ or otherwise.-Widowmaker could be pacified, but the way she processes emotion and the equilibrium of her body can never fully recover. She could recover as Widowmaker, but not as Amelie.-It’s possible to wake Amelie up in some way, but this would NOT result in healing. She would likely fight and kick and scream until someone sedated her. She would be completely resistant to help or treatment.-Widowmaker does not suppress Amelie. That isn’t how their relationship works. -Widowmaker doesn’t view Amelie as ‘dead’. -Widowmaker views herself as completely separate from Amelie. -Widowmaker regards herself more as a protector of Amelie than being of the same entity. -Amelie can communicate with Widowmaker. Their emotions mix and are expressed differently. -Widowmaker remembers, Amelie feels. Widowmaker as a singular entity is unfeeling. This is kind of complicated, but imagine Widowmaker is literally a picture of white glass. By itself, it makes no impression. But if you project it on top of something else, then it blurs the image underneath it and influences how the viewer sees it. Widowmaker is the filter laying on top of the what remains of Amelie. -Amelie isn’t a physical person anymore. She’s a presence inside Widowmaker. -Widowmaker is fiercely protective of Amelie and her memory. It is one of the only things she reacts strongly towards.-Widowmaker doesn’t see Amelie’s memories as her own, even though she has access to them.-Widowmaker refers to Amelie in the third person and inserts her into conversations. (Ex: “Amelie remembers him.” or “Amelie has been whispering.”)

PRE-TALON-

-Angela and Amelie were very close.-Amelie knew Lena, but not well. Lena had a one sided crush on her pre-Talon. -Gerard was NOT ABUSIVE. -Gerard and Amelie had a very loving relationship. They were a brash and theatrical couple who thrived off of each other and threw love in every direction. They were a presence at HQ; the Lacroix tragedy sent far reaching scars across Overwatch as a whole. -Ana knew the couple well. She thought Amelie was a bit young for Gerard, but the girl grew on her quickly. She felt the Lacroix tragedy deeply. She still believes Amelie was always an agent for Talon, because it’s what Jack told her. -Widowmaker remembers her past life.

THE LACROIX TRAGEDY-

-The Lacroix tragedy had hard consequences on Overwatch’s already-compromised position, despite the lie that softened the blow. Even without Amelie’s blood on their hands, Gerard’s death made the struggle all the more great.-Amelie’s kidnapping tore Gerard up. For months he bartered with his coworkers and friends to strengthen the search. There was little communication between Talon and Overwatch. It wasn’t a typical kidnapping, there were no demands made. They only knew that she was taken. Months pass. No word. Gerard is convinced Amelie is still alive, but others doubt. He continues on regardless, letting his personal health take a backseat. He knows Amelie must still be alive, but he also knows Talon. He knows them better than anyone on the team. He’s seen pictures of their victims and their hostages. But still, he presses on. Ana sees him struggle, sees his steadfast loyalty in Amelie, and helps the best she can.-Amelie is returned, unscathed but affected. Gerard rejoices and, in his franticness, demands Angela and Morrison release her into his care. He needs to know that she’s okay, domestically, he needs to see her at home again, he needs to see her smiling and happy again.-Amelie’s personality suffered greatly. Gerard saw this, and kept it private. He believed she could recover, he believed she just needed time. He watched after her as closely and protectively as he could.-The night before the murder, he confessed Amelie’s radically changing behavior to Angela in hopes she could help her. Angela recognized the signs of chemical/ mental altering and implored Gerard to bring her back into her care; Amelie was a close friend, painfully close, and Angela was horrified to hear how drastically she’d been affected.They made plans to collect Amelie and transfer her into medical in the morning. -Instead of acknowledging their mistake in prematurely releasing Amelie and accepting responsibility in both Amelie’s torture/ reconditioning and Gerard subsequent murder, Overwatch buried it all. Morrison told the organization that Gerard’s death was caused by Talon and Amelie was kidnapped once again, and was likely dead.-Morrison believed he had to do this. He thought the the organization would crumble from interior conflict if the details were brought to light.-Ana discovered Amelie later during the hostage situation in “Legacy”. She reported, and Morrison let her findings speak for themselves instead of using the information he already knew regarding Gerard’s death. Ana herself was personally stung hard; Gerard was a dear friend and Amelie, a trusted part of his life. This was the last action Ana had as part of Overwatch. Amelie was labeled a traitor and painted to be a willing participant in Talon’s operations. With the only man capable of factually discounting this dead, and friends distraught over the incident, the Lacroix Tragedy became a story of warning and betrayal.-Angela never believed this, but alone she couldn’t fight. Amelie was gone without closure. This incident left her view of Overwatch convoluted and broken. In the end, Overwatch fell, and she walked away knowing it was right. WIDOWMAKER AND SOMBRA DYNAMIC-

-In Sombra’s eyes, the Lacroix tragedy is a perfect example of her distrust of all large, organized syndicates. A secret with a living scar to prove it.-Sombra sympathizes with Widowmaker. She feels she has a personal stake in her existence. -Sombra understands, to an extent, that she can’t remove Widowmaker from Amelie. -Widowmaker would not acknowledge Sombra as a friend, or even ally. However, she allows Sombra actions that she loathes from others, including breaches in her personal space, conversation, and prying. -Sombra would protect Widowmaker in a life or death situation. She isn’t fond of this fact, but she accepts it.-Widowmaker has acted outside of her perimeters to protect Sombra in dogfights. -Sombra is one of the only people, save for Morrison and Reaper, who know the extent of Overwatch’s transgressions against the Lacroix family. -Sombra is NOT an abuser and doesn’t use this information to overpower Widowmaker in any way.-Sombra makes efforts to help Widowmaker feel human. Giving her clothing in cold weather, preparing comfortable areas for her, and knowing her routines are among them.

WIDOWMAKER AND MERCY DYNAMIC-

-Angela had very strong feelings for Amelie, but refused to act on them because of Gerard. She saw how happy they were and wouldn’t step between that. -There were...incidents when Angela drank too much, though. Amelie kept them to herself, as not to embarrass the doctor.-Angela wants to help Amelie, even now. She doesn’t understand the extent of the damage, as she hasn’t witnessed her up close. -Widowmaker remembers everything about Angela, even those personal encounters. She doesn’t know Angela communicated with Gerard. Because of this lack of communication, Widowmaker believes Angela was part of Overwatch’s coverup, and doesn’t know how she resisted.-Widowmaker feels familiarity in the presence of Angela. Amelie cries out in a very specific sort of way when she’s near.

WIDOWMAKER AND REAPER DYNAMIC-

-Like Sombra, Reaper sympathizes with Widowmaker. He sees many similarities in their stories.-Unlike Sombra, he remembers Amelie. He remembers how full of life she was, and he wishes he could bring that back. She doesn’t deserve to live this life, to endure the same pain as himself.-He has contemplated killing Widowmaker, as a mercy. He doesn’t, and he considers it selfish on his part.-He cares for Widowmaker, and Widowmaker, like with Sombra, gives him many allowances in return. -Widowmaker and Reaper are domestics. They know each other well.

WIDOWMAKER (HEALTH)-

-Widowmaker does not eat. Because of her very delicate bodily state, her digestive system can’t process food. Instead, she has glucose injections and IV fluid.-Most of her time is spent in a medical bay at Talon HQ when not on missions. It’s time consuming work, keeping a corpse just alive enough to complete functions.-She doesn’t appear on Infrared. -She doesn’t sweat.-She is prone to blackouts during especially strenuous activity requiring full days away from a base. -She doesn’t fear death. She has expressed disappointment on Reaper and Sombra on occasions where they’ve saved/ protected her. -Widowmaker is extremely delicate, health-wise. Her body doesn’t handle trauma well and her natural recovery to injury is severely stunted. In case of incidents she must be immediately be returned to base.-Widowmaker is valuable enough to Talon to be kept alive despite it being an ordeal for them. She isn’t perfect. But her aim is perfect, and her speed is perfect, and that’s all that matters.-Her lower legs are prosthetic, allowing her to leap and dash around despite her poor constitution.

WELL, that’s not everything BUT IT’S ENOUGH FOR NOW.