Rare Munday pic (not even on Monday)

Officially Spacy, B.A.A, M.A, CF-SLP

@quick-drawn asked:

"lena...i thought you were DEAD."

"I know, I know." Her words were muffled, choked out around a smoke-ruined throat. Skin felt aflamed, ruined, even under the protective layers of her suit, far too hot for another to touch, but that didn't stop Lena from falling into his solid form. Tremors shook her fingers and hands as she clutched the back of his shirt, and the dull ache in her fingers suggested how fused the leather was with the ruined skin.

Lena was grateful for his solid form as her knees buckled, weak with adrenaline and dull pain that had begun to take over from it.

"Couldn't just crash it into the building." The rasp was weak, wet. Blood dotted her lips and sprayed onto his shirt as she spoke. Part of Lena wanted to apologize, but the other, louder part of her couldn't bring herself to care about ruined linen.

"S'too late to eject. Woulda gotten caught in the release system." Lena wasn't sure why she was trying to rationalize her decision to him, but a part of her felt better murmuring the explanation. It was easier to focus her energy there, rather than the dull, creeping blackness that fuzzed along her vision, or the sensation of her knees hitting the dirt. Fingers twitched with dull pain as she clutched into his shift, fighting the losing battle for consciousness.

"I did... my best. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to crash another - " She mumbled further, blood staining skin and cotton alike as Lena fell to her knees, still clutching tight to his jacket.

"The last thing I need is to trip and fall in front of everyone, thanks." Lena sniped back, allowing the comfort of their bickering to pull her in. While she could walk in heels, there was no graceful float that some people masters. Too many years of clunking around in military boots, graceful in their own right but hardly a transferrable skill.

"Boots would be comfortable, but I think flats or sandals would work better." She flipped through a few more pictures, highlighting the sensible shoes saved to the collection. Her legs were lean from years of running, giving form to most saved to the inspiration list. They've had to find the perfect pair after finding a dress.

Lena glanced over at them, an excited look gracing her features. It has been a long time since she felt giddy, excited for an event like this. "I've been invited to give a small speech at a fundraising dinner for the local shelter. They want me to attest how helpful the dogs are for the community members, and how important it is for the shelters to stay open. Said a firsthand experience from a visitor is ideal. And," Lena's grin grew. "No dress blues."

ㅤsure that lena had seen through their messy attempt at covering up their instinctive reaction, byan was silently grateful for her decision to not comment on it. made it easier for them to lean into the excitement that continued to build and to work on casting aside memories of a much less enjoyable past. when she sat down at their side and pulled open some photos, they tucked their phone into their pocket and leaned over, shoulder coming to rest against hers as their eyes watched the screen with interest. taking in the inspiration photos she flipped through, mental notes were being taken with each one, though their nods of approval were cut short by the look lena shot them.

ㅤㅤ" yeah, yeah, you're boring, i get it. "ㅤvoice light and teasing, they nudged against her shoulder playfully, grinning away as they surveyed the photo currently displayed on her phone's screen.ㅤ" for your information, i do know how to shop for people who aren't me. like, yeah, my style is more fun an' interestin', but i know it's not for everyone. ...'specially not when it comes t' functions that call for this kinda look. "

giving a nod to the picture to indicate the dress's more highbrow style, byan flopped back against the couch, a thoughtful look set across their features as their gaze drifted to lena.

ㅤㅤ" ...i s'pose i could be talked into allowin' a cute pair'a flats, if you're really that much of a danger to yourself in heels. but i'm not gonna be happy 'bout it. "ㅤan exaggeration, of course — lena's comfort mattered more than their own personal preference, and they didn't actually see anything wrong with flats. they were just kind of boring, that was all.ㅤ" what's'is for, anyway? feel like it takes an awful big event t' get you into a dress, s'pecially one that nice. "

What's the one thing your muse wants to live past them?

Spring, finally, blooming in the small mountain village next to the base. The sun peeked out from behind dark clouds already breaking up, and the entire community appeared to be out, enjoying the light. There was no way that she would leave the doctor in the lab, beneath the harsh, artificial light, pouring over whatever files and projects she was working on today. Not when the weather was this nice and there were fun things to do in town.

Lena, dressed comfortably in a pair of leggings and a hoodie, with running shoes tying the outfit together, shrugged. "Promised Reinhardt we'd stop by the candy shop, get him some of those little chocolates he likes. And I want some of the fresh bread from the bakery."

It felt so comfortable, so normal. They weren't Overwatch agents here, just people out for a walk in town, and enjoying the weather. A part of Lena hoped that the civilian clothes would be enough to disguise them from the posters that seemed to litter the whole world. At least the people in town were used to seeing agents emerge from restricted base.

"Was thinking about a haircut, too. It's getting a little long." As if to punctuate her point, Lena raked her hair into her face, which promptly fell back into her eyes.

@chronal-anomaly

the war continues but still, spring comes; hope in the form of a flower sprouting out of the ground. angela gently brushes against the petals with the tips of her fingers, turns her face towards the sun in gratitude, reveling in the warmth of light spilling across the florals of her dress. lena was right to have picked the blue one; it complements her eyes, brings attention to them when she smiles.

"it really is quite lovely today," she says, as she stands back up from the tulips, considerate to the fact that if lena hadn't convinced the doctor to leave her office, she would have missed some much needed fresh air. it's light and crisp, carrying the idle sounds of a bustling downtown where children run around corner merchants, and couples and friends pass by rows of colorful shops wrapping around the block. the kind of thrum of daily living that always feels more like a distant memory; a dream.

she adjusts the strap of her purse with a hum, glancing to lena with a contemplative smile.

"where should we go shopping first?"

Lena knew better than to agree with them about Overwatch, despite the similar complaints she had against the organization. Unified front, the media team insisted on, supplying them with talking points to discuss and what not to say to the general public. Still, these days are tedious, watering the flower of annoyance within her at the fanfare of Overwatch, the willingness to entertain these galas and the stuffy people who attend them. She took a sip of her champagne.

"They never put me in charge of the fun things." Lena quipped back, nodding at the wine in their hand.

"Self-righteous as they might be, we get the job done. And I'm thankful to get to work for an organization dedicated to working toward peace following the war. Even if it can be... restricting." She took another sip, gazing around the room at the other agents mingling.

"Would be nice to be able to get to who actually needs us, rather than what's restricted by the red tape sometimes."

. Smarter than media outlets would make her seem, of course. She was trying to evade, shift the focus on Overwatch itself, but using Pasiphos' own line of questioning.

"Oh, please, you and I know none of them have any opinions worth the oxygen," they said with a shake of their head, hand waving dismissively. "Complaints about who deserves what attention, bloviating on about how much they spend on Overwatch. I could buy an authentic renaissance piece for that much, and at least that I could hang in my sitting room."

They shifted their weight onto the other leg, taking a sip of wine, then looking at it as though it had verbally accosted them.

"You provide terrible wine, that is my thought about Overwatch," they replied after a moment. "But I am still more curious about you. Overwatch as an organization is just like any other. Self-important self-righteous people like Morrison and Adawe at the top, poor wretches at the bottom, and regular, more interesting people like you in the middle."

Pausing long enough to root around in her shoulder-slung bag, she retrieved a small first kit. She moved efficiently, retrieving fresh gauze, antiseptic, and quick-clot tools that would alleviate some of the sluggish ooze that spotted from the makeshift bandages. Steady fingers took hold of the fraying bandages as she glanced up at Cole's slack form.

"It's going to be okay. I'm going to help you." It was a promise, one made to many before Cole, and one made to those that came after, But that didn't make it any less sure, a vow etched in blood and stone. She'd stay with him or die trying.

The bandage unwound carefully, avoiding the pull of new flesh stitched with cloth. Wretched smell grew, filling the ramshackle hut, but Lena didn't look away from the torn and mangled flesh that finally reveal itself. She got to work, disinfecting, pinching off blood vessels, packing the wound, and wrapping what she could.

"Okay, it looks okay. I've seen worse." She talked softly, a golden thread tossed into the labyrinth to drag him from the murky darkness. "Just keep talking to me, Cassidy, tell me what you've been up to since I've seen you last. Meet any new characters since you've been gone?"

"Best I could," The words squeeze out, breathy, bottlenecked and choked, "Sure." His whiskey humor whittles to pennies here, a grimace crowbarring tension to his eyes, his lips.

He's still as he watches her fingers close the distance, pale things in the dim light, catching sunlight lines that puncture through window slats. Watchful, in the way cornered creatures are prone to. She looks young, he thinks. The affects of her condition. There is only the years of being on the job that hardens her disposition in subtler ways, in the efficiency of her movements. The pristine imagery of Tracer is muddled, further, by the hands of the desert, by the dirt dusting her brunette plumes, hitching rides in the creases of her clothes and smattering the crest of a cheek bone. Blearily, he thinks it suits her. Blearily, he thinks of palming the top of her head and giving it some tousling shove, some fond gesture he has some vague memory from years ago.

Blearily, he realizes it'd been a left-handed gesture as she makes contact to his bicep.

He drags out a slow exhale, shoulders slumping unevenly. Some tepid thing between wry and wary ensares his features. "Ain't much of a choice," he curls his fingers into his serrape, unfurling its fabric from his neck and into his lap, "Reckon this'll be the best you'll get me."

♢      —        send  [ META ] + a word / phrase / person / etc  and i will write a head  canon around it.

fighting style & ways your muse says i love you!

Some headcanons for your Monday|| accepting!

Fighting style

Lena's fighting style is characterized most often by speed and evasion. Her blows aren't immensely powerful, but she's almost impossible to catch by non-augmented humans. The likes of Jack Morrison, Gabriel Reyes, Genji Shimada and Akande Ogundimu have the best luck at catching her as she slips into and out of the timeline, but that still requires greater observation of her movements.

Her fighting style takes a lot of liberty from her competitive gymnastics and free running/parkour/tagging backgrounds. Adept at things like front and back flips, bending and twisting in almost inhuman ways has been helpful in building a unique fighting style. She is plenty comfortable with launching herself feet or yards into the air, especially given the help of the accelerator, making it difficult for enemies to follow her at times.

This does not come without challenges, of course. Lena isn't exactly the hardest hitter on the team, relying mainly on pulse weaponry. It's good for a distraction, and for lower strength enemies. Additionally, her speed requires her to have very little armor, sending her into firefights with little more than the accelerator and goggles for protection. The extra weight slows her down too much.

All this being said, Lena's primary position on the team is as a scout, distraction, and in-and-out jobs. She is also often in charge of getting civilians to safety, split attention between the primary team and herself, and providing a quick overview of the fight to the rest of the team. She's sent out alone regularly, or partnered with Genji, whose skillset compliments her own.

I love you

Lena has a difficult time committing to someone. Not because she doesn't want to commit to them, but because she wants to commit to them wholly. Which is, of course, difficult, when you've committed your life and soul to a paramilitary complex in hopes of making the world better. That being said, Lena loves in many different ways, with many different people.

She loves her team, both with old Overwatch and new. She loves each member, trusts them with her very life, and some of them, her secrets. These are people she'll take a bullet for as easily as get them a glass of water. Her manifestation of love in this category usually comes from acts of service. Running out to pick up what they need, dropping off food, completing tasks, little things that will make their lives easier. She usually doesn't stick around to say it, so her actions show it. Lunch at Cassidy's door when he's trapped inside his office, doing paperwork all day? I love you. Tidying Ziegler's offices/lab to the best of the doctor's specifications when she's not looking? I love you. Fixing the blender that Reinhardt broke, again, somehow? I love you. I love you. I love you. They're not easy words, but they're easy actions.

She loves Emily. With every fiber of herself that is not committed already to Overwatch, she loves Emily. And to a certain extent, Emily understands that, respects it, given the commitment to her own job. Given the rare opportunities for them to be together, the love she displays comes as Time Together. No matter what, something as simple as cooking dinner or shopping or folding laundry, its spent together with each other. Lena is very tactile as well, she'll do anything in her power to touch or hold Emily until they physically have to separate. Emily knows this as well, and you'll often find them tangled together with Lena laying her head on Emily's lap or lacing their fingers together as they walk. Each digit is a promise. I love you. I love you. I love you.

@byanyan asked:

receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself (haha... hah...) || Blood ( selectively accepting )

The morning was bright, chilly, with the promise of spring heat coming later that day. Saturdays were usually busy, Lena keeping her hands moving in order to keep her head clear. A morning run, maybe a stop by the farmer's market, before spending a few hours at the shelter. Today, she had picked up a few things from the local craft store to start a new painting project that week. Routine things. Mundane things. Things that should have helped soothe the raw tension and stress of the week.

Ending her errands, Lena returned home with an expensive coffee in one hand and bags clutched in the other. The door was still locked, but unlike when she left in the morning, the window on the side of the house was jimmied open. Routine as well, the habits of one pesky teenager who couldn't - or wouldn't - figure out how to use the spare key she gave them to open the door. Lena opted to ignore it, shouldering open the wooden door with a soft creak and moving to set her bags down on the table.

"Byan?" It had been a few days since their last arrival, Lena thinking - and hoping - they had been caught up with Sol and too busy to visit. Warm hope blooming in her chest was dashed quickly as she finally caught sight of the bloody drips leading from the window to the now-closed bathroom door, rushing water and faint cursing audible from the other side.

Apprehension grew, paranoia clawing its way from her chest, and Lena resisted the urge to slip the utility knife from her waistband. No use in making the situation worse. Caught between the urge to help them and the rake of suspicion across taunt nerves, Lena crept quietly to the door.

"Byan? You okay in there?" A knuckle rapped at the door, not daring to walk in on the teen without permission. "Can I come in? What happened?"

Realities slammed together, the blood of the past dripping from her kitchen, invading her mind, staining the fragile stability of here and now. Her eyes flickered to their face, the familiarity of Byan a seawall against the crash of waves over her. Another blink, and their eyes were milky white, face stained with muddy red, jaw slack and sagging as they promised her salvation. Words of a dead person, promises of the living, the repetition of that which she's heard before but the promised salvation not coming to fruition.

Lena choked.

Another blink and they were back, a concerned look pinching their face. Recognition darted across her face, something dizzyingly familiar. Lungs compressed, sucking in a sickening breath as the floor rushed toward her and Lena collapsed back against the counter. With hips nestled against the stained wood, she bent, attempting to settle the dizzying spin of the world.

Visions faded, blood drying from the floor of her kitchen, blurred by tears developed sometime earlier in the attack. When, she wasn't quite sure. Time rushed past her, grasping fingers gripping silk and feeling it slip through as she stuttered out a breath. War flickered in and out of her ears, the fading booms of auditory hallucinations in her ears, head swimming with the sound.

Lena looked up, sweaty hair falling in her eyes. The events of the day recounted in her head, going to work, leaving early for some reason, then a general fuzziness until Byan damn near knocked down the door. Had they been knocking for long?

"6:30?" She choked, voice harsh with unuse. Or misuse. She wasn't entirely sure. "No. No. That's not right. None of this is right. It's not that late."

Gunsmoke filled her nostrils again, choking her. Lena pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes until sparks flashed in the darkness. It didn't dissuade the paranoia that still scorched her skin. It didn't feel safe, the air around her still fraught with danger, with the threat, but she knew Byan and took solace in their presence.

I'm safe.

Lena gnawed on her tongue, feeling where old scars sat from the noxious habit. Her fingers open and close in some mockery of a fist. Her skin felt fragile, scorching.

"It's not that late." She protested gently, sliding to the ground, not removing the palms from her eyes. "It can't be that late."

ㅤㅤ" it is safe. "ㅤthe words slipped past their lips before they could take the time to formulate what response would actually be the best to provide in this moment. as it turned out, they were less sure of how to approach someone in the middle of a breakdown as they thought they might be — they were used to being the one trying to get rid of whoever was with them while they were somewhere else, living in a memory that wasn't repeating as actively as it always felt like it was. never had they been the one here, on the outside, with no real clue as to what the other was seeing, feeling, and hearing happening around them, and it left them feeling... oddly helpless. all they wanted to do was help.

ㅤㅤ" we're in your kitchen, lena. in your home. wherever you think we are— "ㅤa pause, and byan hesitated, rethinking whether or not this was the proper approach. they didn't know what was best, didn't really know what worked... but bringing her back to reality, grounding her to the moment... that seemed like the best place to start. the sooner they were pulled out of their head, made to realize they weren't where they thought, the easier it was for them to feel safe and relax... surely she would feel the same, right?

ㅤㅤ" ...we're not there. "ㅤagain, they wanted to reach out, to touch her and provide some more tangible grounding, but they resisted for the time being, continuing to simply observe her cautiously.ㅤ" we're in the kitchen. it's... "ㅤa hand dipped into their pocket, pulling their phone free for a quick glance at the time.ㅤ" ...6:30 pm. you weren't at practice so i came over to check on you when you didn't answer my call. you're safe. i'm safe. i promise, okay? everyone here, which is still just you 'n me, is fine, it's just... s'just a bad night. "

@moribundr asked:

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜

"I'm not lucky," The protest fell from her quick, tone mumbling in defense. Weapons had glanced against her skin, bullet slicing through a top layer of skin. It bled sluggishly, clotting together and breaking open with every movement as Gabriel looked down at it. Shoulder cant awkwardly up at him, Lena sat in a quiet corner of the transport while the remainder of crews worked to get the ship off the ground. "I'm just good like that. Just pure skill, commander."

It was a combination of the two, with a small amount of miracle folded in. Forced slow, guarding the woman that relied on Lena to get safely across the no-mans-land that made up the battlefield, the bullet glanced along her bicep from behind, bisecting the skin. A recall would leave the woman stranded, and thusly, Lena endured.

Depositing the woman somewhere that could be considered safe where a medic could take care of her, Lena staggered to the corner of the transport and waited for a medic to open up. Head woozy with pain and blood loss, it took her a moment to recognize Gabe's presence.

"'ave seen worse." Lena compared, argumentative tone giving her some kind of life for the moment despite her slumped form against the nearest truck. "I just, I just need to rest it off. It'll be fine."

She sidled through time, dragging the veil around disappearing shoulders with a clumsy practice of a woman learning to fly again. It was freeing, wings rebuilt on a lame bird in something reminiscent of flying again. Voice was crisp, falling from anywhere and nowhere all at once, as the space between space and time seemed to narrow and widened at her very whim.

"No' sure if I would be the one calling out the losers if I were you."

Lena dropped out of the timeline in a flash of blue, the sharp tang of ozone adding to that which has already curled into the ceiling. Falling sideways, body uncoordinated but quick and violent, her form dropped out of his range just as quick as she fell into it. It was infuriating to watch, Lena existing just out of reach of even the fastest of hands.

"Trying to help you, can't you see? You're projecting too much. Too angry. Gotta slow down. We can take a break if you want."

Irony dripped from her words, an eternal engine of a woman operate at breaking limits at every opportunity. But the rage of his movements stunted her own bottled anger, something churning and quick compared to his inferno. They were both weapons of war, steel rapid quenched in the blood pooled in cobblestones, Lena remade into something shiny and Genji rebuilt for function and sharpness. Did she really have any place to tell him to relax?

( @katazashi )

in and out, fast and sharp was every breath that took his shoulders along with them. guarded stance fire pouring from synthetic airways, weapons between four fingers shuddered and swayed with the desire to be thrown wherever he could manage. contrary to the way he stood completely readied, this was no sparring match. perhaps several minutes prior, until his inability to keep up with her got the better of him. another addition to the heap, ready to be set ablaze by any small spark. training was just a far off vision, something to be set aside for a few days once this was over. only left now were attempts to keep her at a distance, genji knew she could catch on if she truly wished. he was outmatched, that alone seemed to worsen the scorn at his core with every callout. blink. eager toss of upper-body where he presumed her to be.

@chronal-anomaly : "would you cut it out? i'm trying to help you."

help. he could see her in front of him one moment, yet not the next. it ground his teeth and synched his brows. reddened optics shifted around limited space, something about this new game of chase. it felt like he was finally winning this time.

❝ akiramenaide. ❞ scoffed out as shuriken stilled, posture remaining as it was before loosening. senses clearing the more he replayed her demand in mind. efforts failed to stall overconfidence, prompting monotoned taunting. head swiveled cautiously to try and find her again, it felt he had done about a dozen circles. ❝ are you afraid to finally lose? ❞

Something that @colecassiidy mentioned a few days ago has been on mind re: natural disasters and muse experience with them. And there's a thunderstorm going on right now so what a perfect time to ramble about it.

Lena, given her career both with Overwatch and the Royal Air Force, has experienced a fair share of natural disasters. Recovery efforts sent in by Overwatch in the aftermath make up a majority of these experiences, seeing the destruction wrought by disasters and people impacted by them. She's experienced some very minor tremors living in London, atop two major faults, but the most damage they've done is knock a glass or two over.

Where her direct experience with disasters lays is with weather. Tornadoes, hurricanes, and even just bad thunderstorms are a pilot's worst nightmare. She's missed many a flight due to weather, grounded even during emergencies to prevent her and her team from responded, but she's flown in even more of them.

While Lena is an ace pilot, one of the best and brightest that have ever come from the RAF Academy, the weather gets to all of them. Major crafts, buffeted in the wind, jerking controls from her, hearing the sounds of people and things fly about in the cargo bay. There have been moments in smaller crafts too, too light to resist the winds, here one moment and gone the next as mother nature dragged her across the sky.

They're rare, but they do happen, and as a result, bad weather puts her on edge. You might see her jump at the sound of thunder, or check the window nervously during a storm. Additionally, she'll spend some storms in the hanger, sitting with or in her plane as some sort of self soothing and a general reminder that she's alright.

park ranger park ranger park ranger park ranger rahhhhhh

@quick-drawn asked:

❝ i’d do anythin' for you, you already know that. so that shouldn't've been a surprise to you... ❞

"Idiot," The curse slipped from her before she could stop it, worry tinging tone into something near panic. Slick red sprouted between her gloves, making the leather catch awkwardly against the hole that split his chest in two. Dirt floated and settled, the air around them almost choking with the kicked-up debris from Jesse's tackle that sent both of them crashing to the ground. "You- I had the recall - you idiot,"

The rest of her grumblings were lost the to the whip of hot wind.

Dragging him behind what could be considered cover in this damn open field of a battleground the pair found themselves in was a feat in and of itself, Lena hefting the weight by the tug strap on his shoulder. The crunch of gravel responded, digging deep into his back, but she couldn't care about that in the moment. Lena's attention was sustained by the rich red that trailed out behind him, sluggish through his gear.

"Just, stay awake for me, cowboy. No falling asleep yet." Not until I figure out what to do.

Her comms crackled to life, Chase demanding to know what happened to Jesse. Lena reported back, voice breathless, with panic bit back into something cooler, more calculated that passed for field communication. Chase responded with the affirmative, stating that they would have to hold tight until they could find the enemy sniper before medical could enter.

Lena looked back down at Jesse, not allowing the feeling hopelessness to enter her eyes. "Idiot. A bloody, reckless idiot."

Lena knelt next to him, slipping out gauze and whatever else she could find to pack the wound. It seemed to slow the bleeding, red still oozing out around the harsh pack. Hopefully it would hold for the next hour, while the team sent whatever backups they could afford. Lena dragged his head into her lap, setting the well-loved hat just to the right of him, within easy reaching distance.

"Don't fall asleep. We're going to stay right here, wait for help. I'm not going to leave you behind, cowboy."

"s'complicated." She admitted, hating how small her voice had become. The path to becoming Tracer had been involuting, turning her back on treasured friends and loved ones, shooting Lena straight into the spotlight from the humble London streets she once came from. Enlisting, deploying, recruiting for Slipstream, and now this, Tracer, The Golden Child, the newest edition to the special forces that now touched down seemingly wherever they pleased.

Overwatch had their fans, sure, but they also had their critics. Those who used to exist in the same circles as her, anti-war anarchists who loathed to see one of their own join Overwatch. It was different when she was dead, lost in the expanse of Time and to be blamed on the mistakes of the organizations. But now, landing in front of them, very much alive without so much of a note? Bad blood flairs.

"I," Lena searched for the right words, selecting and discarding an explanation. "I left behind a lot, when I joined up with the military. Broke promises. Guess it came back to bite me."

. He felt a curl of victory in his mind when she seemed to acquiesce. Almost instantly it was replaced by a minute discomfort as she began to speak. He knew she was trustworthy, he knew she wasn't going off to do something untoward, but somehow he was still in the necessary position to grill her about little things.

His expression turned sympathetic, brows furrowing and mouth turned down as his gaze softened.

"I know you're an excellent soldier, but an even more exceptional person, Oxton. I'm sorry someone thought otherwise." At the revelation, his brows rose in mild surprise. "Do you want to take time off? If you need to, you've got it."