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     Cornered. Trapped. Those are two words the spider never thought she’d be.      She is prepared for such situations, of course. She was trained to endure       rigorous combat and even potential capture and torture; she will gladly call on      that training in the event that the airship she’s called out for with her distress      signal leaves her stranded. 

     But she can’t help the frustration that pulls down at her lips as she stares at      the dead end of the subway tunnel -- the one that was supposed to have an      exit. Whoever is responsible for this out of date map on her visor is      going to have a very, very bad day when she gets out of here. The spider      whips around, eight eyes searching the darkness for the heat signals that      were pursuing her. She managed to out pace them somewhat but now with      her halted progress... they’re catching up. 

     So be it.

     Widowmaker gets down on a knee, reloading her rifle and shouldering it.

     Let them come -- she’ll pick them off. One. By.

“N-No...I killed you...You’re dead...” She stumbled back. Ghosts, that was what it could have been. A ghost built from guilt. 

“You are dead. You cannot be alive. I had your blood on my hands.” 

She could feel the mask of hers breaking. 

“I tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone...That you died...that I killed you..” 

Send me a “ 💞 “ and I post a gif showing my muses feeling towards yours.

I can arrange a disassembly

@orphees

“Gérard!”

The words come out as a giggle, as she feels arms around her middle and being pulled towards the other. She’s laughing, truly and fully, holding a thing of lipstick. She tries to wiggle away, but it’s no use. She succumbs to his kisses attack.