#cuiomae

[ravusnightblossom]

cuiomae replied to your post: What’s Your Position? “…..” … Well, it’s not...

gabe vc> :eyes:

”.......”     

[chronal-anomaly]

💬~!

Memories || accepting

“Backup engine.”

“Check.”

“Comms unit.”

“Check.”

“Lifeline.”

“Check. Y’know, Winston, I’m not quite sure why ya need the Lifeline. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Focus, Tracer. Secondary comm unit.”

“Check. All systems a go. Starting bootup.”

A hum filled the control room, the sound of the small plane’s engines clicking on and warming up. A blue glow emitted from the craft, the visual appearance of time. They had designed it to be tiny, barely capable of holding the small, 100lb woman. The rest was dedicated to systems, secondary systems and tertiary systems designed to save her in case of failure in the other two. If everything was lost, she could use the Lifeline and the craft would immediately return to this current moment in time. It was almost ingenious. 

The on-board camera showed her smiling as she flipped switches and pressed buttons, preparing for takeoff. This was a huge honor, something that she had been training for, for years. After Lorenzo broke his arm in a simulation accident, Lena had been left the last one left standing. And so she had trained; under the watchful eye of Jack and Gabe and Winston, Lena had run hours and hours of simulation, often working for almost sixteen hours a day before calling it a night and going to bed, only to be up hours later to train again. 

It had been a long two years under the watch eye of Overwatch, but finally, the prodigy was ready to fly. 

The cameras flashed, held back by some security. Inside the observation booth, a team of the world’s best quantum scientists, Winston, Ana, Jack and Gabe all watched her taxi the craft down the runaway, listening to the quiet engine hum. This was it–Overwatch’s saving grace. The future of the organization weighed one her shoulders; too many failed missions, too many upsets, they needed a success story. And Lena was going to be that success story. 

Lena grunted as the plane lifted off, murmuring a prayer to the Celtic goddess Arainhod. She didn’t pray much, but now seemed like the time to return to the Old Religion. Winston muttered in her ear, along with an on-ground flight master. Small reminders, stuff she did naturally. 

Now it was time to accelerate. 

The craft groaned and shuddered as it approached the speed of sound–this was her favorite part. Crashing through the sound barrier, protected by the headset over her ears, watching the shockwave behind her. But this time, she wasn’t to watch that shockwave. 

One second she was here, the next, she was gone. 

Cheers erupted in her ears, those on ground excited for what happened. Gabe was in her ear, demanding what she’s seeing, what’s happening. Quietly, Lena responded. 

“It’s… black. Expansive. Gorgeous.” She gasped, staring around at the galaxy-like surroundings. Colors and stars in the distance like a massive painting, calling to her. “Piloting into the first time space.” 

The craft reappeared, moments before she took off, looking down at herself getting into the plane. It was certainly… scary, but they warned her about this. Winston continued to talk her through, pulling her back into the Time space. 

“Good. Oxton, try ten years now. Visualize where you’re going.” Lena obeyed, diving into the Timeline again, looking down at a young version of herself at the military academy. It was her senior prank, dropping almost three hundred peeled potatoes down the stairs of her school. The general, spitting mad, chasing her down–something was so fun about those days. 

“I’ve got some turbulence on reentry, Winston.” Lena reported as she reentered the time line. 

“Check, Tracer. It’s probably normal. Stay alert.”

“Yessir. Moving back 200 years.”

“Go ahead. Be careful, Tracer.” 

It was then, there, that Lena felt another wave of turbulence. “Turbulence, Winston. Am I a go?”

There’s conversation on the otherside. Winston talking to the Commanders and the Captain. Finally, Gabe came back over the airwaves. “You’re a go, Tracer. Gotta break a couple eggs, right?”

Lena smiled and nodded, visible on the camera. The plane soared through the galaxyscape, Lena marveling at the sight as she hovered over the next time portal. Hovering just above it, she could see the lives of those below her; what a shock it’ll give them. 

“Entering portal.”

“Check. Stay safe.”

Lena nods on camera before slowly navigating the Slipstream into portal. Successfully through, Lena flew the pressed the cloaking device designed to prevent those from seeing her craft. Before the plane managed to disguise itself, though, Lena was struck by an overwhelming shudder. Metal groaned and creaked and a sharp yell escaped her.

The plane was wrenched back into the galaxyscape, none-too-gently, flipping her on her head and cutting ties to the camera feed at the base. In her ear, people began yelling. Gabe and Jack, to her, Winston, to the scientists, demanding some kind of feed on her. 

“Tracer--fuck--Lena, can you hear me?” Gabe called. Lena gave him nothing but a grunt back as she tried to wrench controls back from whatever had struck the plane. “Listen, Lena, you need to get control, you need to get back online!”

Winston’s voice came over next, giving her commands to attempt to retake the plane with. Things that she had already tried--and they had worked, to a certain extent, but Lena was still barreling toward nothing and everything, toward the massive purple sky in the distance, so far away from home, all alone. Her hands flew over the commands, shutting down the primary engines, hoping whatever it was would release her. Second engines kicked on, giving her a second wind. 

Something wrenched her harder, dragging Lena against the side, bashing her skull open. Lena let out a sharp yell as blood dripped into her eyes. 

“Oxton, can you hear me?” Jack’s voice came over the waves next, trying to reach her. Dazed and disoriented, her head hurt too much and Lena was incapable of remembering her own name, let alone how to operate this craft. 

“....Mayday.” She finally managed out, bringing her brain back around. If she could just focus on the voices in her ears, getting back to them. Making them proud. If she could just get back to them, they’d be proud of her. “Mayday. Craft has been compromised. Activating Lifeline.” 

Winston nodded, flipping switches on his end. Ana pulled the two commanders back--they’d just get in the way. Scientists, reporters, the whole damn world was watching this moment, listening to the desperate calls of the woman trapped in space. Jack looked ready to strike Ana, Gabe just looked... frozen. Scared. 

“LifeLine is activated. Hold on, Lena.” 

Lena waited with baited breath, waiting for the plane to jerk back toward the beginning of her journey. 

The jerk happened, though it was a lot less smooth. Whatever clung to the craft, it wasn’t letting go without a fight. Lena grunted, pulling the controls back against the force.

Two fingers flipped on the secondary comms unit, giving the observation booth another visual. The cameras were choppier, but they worked, showing her pinched and bleeding face. Desperation and fear lurked behind dark eyes and she focused solely on escape. The mission be damned, she just needed out of this, out of this enclosure. Out of Time. 

Jack, Gabe, Ana and Winston got a live-time picture of Lena’s face screwing up before she screamed, breaking the violent silence. Her face seemed to pull apart in front of their very eyes, ripping down the center along with the plane. 

“Mayday, mayday, Slipstream is down, I repeat, Slipstream is down--!

This is Overwatch’s Tracer, signing off. Thank you, commander Morrison and Reyes. Captain Amari. Thank you, Winston. 

The comms unit cut off and the plane exploded in front of their very eyes. 

[xmilitisx]

👀 how are you feeling, jack? :>

“Tired as balls.”

@fromtheshadcws

[adfrigus-a]

cuiomae replied to your post: You mean eight vibrating balls the size of a fist...

Gabe vc: arent you happy to know i can shapeshift B)

“Oh, babe, I’m happy with everything about you.”

The shapeshifting is just a bonus-

[lxnkyrat-blog]

12. How are they bodily expressive? How do they use nonverbal cues such as their posture, stance, eyes, eyebrows, mouths, and hands?

Character development questions!

Junkrat is a ridiculously expressive individual. Though he has (some) acting skills, he often gives himself away, unable to contain his actual thoughts or glee, which leaves him as a very open, easy to read book. 

His stance says a lot about how relaxed or tense he is, his brows arch and furrow along with his emotions, and to intensify his expressions. When talking verbally, his hands will move along with his mouth, as he likes to demonstrate, to talk people through his thoughts and ideas. 

On that same token, however, there’s a fair amount of body language that is unintentional, stemming from underlying issues, like Radiation Damage. 

[xmilitisx]

Ghosts: Has your muse ever seen something they couldn’t explain?

There’s ghosts in the fields of Indiana. 

They’re old and they moan and twist, vicious and bloodied in the name of progress. Old families and old houses, eaten by time and by the fields that sprawl on and on. You see them sometimes, standing on the edges of rows- 

their clothing tattered, face gaunt. 

Sometimes, they have nooses around their necks, despite the tallest tree having been cut down generations ago. Sometimes they look at you from windows and from barn lofts, a feeling of creeping cold you can’t quite shake.

Of being observed, God’s cold touch a soft frost that steals across your skin and takes your breath. He hears them when he’s pitching hay, whispers from cornstalks and hissing from the silk that makes up the tassels. They follow him to the edge of the fields, the noonday sun casting shadows that don’t belong to the rangy boy.

He hears them in his mother’s voice, his father’s laughter- a split second of time that’s there and gone again.

In the wailing of his sister’s cries, newborn and newly bereft.

They follow him from field to field, from war to war- a consistent companion in the best-

and the worst of times.

And when he’s old, tired and aching- the ghost he fell in love with, finds him. 

There’s ghosts in the fields of Indiana, but thicker still- are the ghosts that linger in the open edges and torn places of his heart. 

@cuiomae @fromtheshadcws

[chronal-anomaly]

i followed you because i was looking for OW people to rp with, and you seemed really friendly and nice. i stayed because you're a BADASS writer who loves angst as much as i do, and are indeed super fucking friendly and i love talking to you ooc as much as i love torturing your tracer. :3

Finals got me down but love me pls || always accepting

Aaaaaa You’re too nice me to me Cuio I will crush your heart don’t teST ME 

[xmilitisx]

For the Shrine, Gabriel leaves some fresh tamales, a bottle of scotch, and one of those candy rings. you know the ones.

Legends made into gods. Gods made into being by belief and faith, by need and necessity. Between the two, universes are created into being.