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xzhonglis · 4 years

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Thieving Arts

Characters: Loba Andrade, Mentions of Revenant

Summary: A recollection of Loba’s life and what has taken place. An empowering fic.

Rating: T for mentions of blood

Categories: angst, hurt,

“Why do you do it,” they’d ask her.

“Why not? With nothing left to lose, why not go for the gold,” she’d reply, a twisted smile on plush lips.

& -

There is no worse hell than watching your parents get gunned down before you, their blood splattering your clothes, the chill of their fingers as you held their hand one last time, the lifelessness of their bodies, the paling of their once vibrant and colorful eyes…

It was reality, it was life… And life was never kind to her, still wasn’t.

Before finding herself mixed up in this murderous sport known as the Apex games, she was nothing, a nobody, a simple street thief just trying to survive, living day by day, biding her time for the day that she would finally get her revenge. For many years, a red face and glowing eyes haunted her dreams, leaving her shaking and unable to sleep. As a child of only nine years old at the time of the tragedy, the simulacrum was everywhere she turned, the everlasting fear of, when is he coming? Will he be back for me? Figures, shadows, anything dark or a deep color of red put her on edge, anxiety fueling her to keep going, never stop, don’t look back. And run she did.

& -

In the years to come, fear turns into rage and rage turns to the desire for revenge…

The feeling of her first theft was exhilarating to say the least. As a beggar, there was only so much she could do to get by… But stealing? As long as the thief never gets caught, who's to say what they could get by with. For her, it was simple in the beginning. Stealing cash, food, clothes, shoes, if it was needed, she would obtain it by whatever means necessary. Even if the means were less than lady like… Whether it be by brute force, a flirtatious exchange (a lady never gives up her most prized possession, especially to those who are most unworthy), or a full out brawl, the prize was hers, it always was. Sure, there had been a time or two when she’d been knocked off of her pedestal, but those times are rare and only deepened her strive to get better, do better, and steal better.

The bigger the stakes, the higher the values soared.

Each successful endeavor only fueled her confidence, bouncing from place to place, prize to prize… It was then she began to make a name for herself. She was no longer in her parents shadow, no longer afraid of what may be lurking in the dark, she was living.

She was Loba Andrade, heir of nothing, ruler of her own life--

In the height of her new life, there were whispers of new tech, tech that could transport you to a different location in a matter of seconds. Unable to resist the temptation, it was then she pulled off the most rigorous and dangerous stunt of her life… Breaking into a heavily armed and secure facility.

It was tough, guards crawling all over the grounds, around every turn and corner, it was still surprising to her that she managed to pull it off. Living on the streets had done her well, learning to fight and how to blend in stemming from that experience. If one didn’t watch where they stepped, they could end up dead or worse… Those were the times she’d rather not think about, having seen gruesome outcomes, people disappear… No, the streets were dangerous and only the strongest survived. She survived.

While having escaped with bumps and bruises that day, the bracelet was nothing like she could have ever imagined. With this, the fear of escape never crept into her mind, breaking and entering whenever she pleased, through bars, windows, wherever she could throw it, she was there. She was an unstoppable force then, flowing with wherever the wind took her, or the prize, whichever came first.

Oh, how life loved to play games…

The glowing yellow eyes, the shining of the red cybernetics, the chilling of his voice… It tore her world apart in an instant. While she had never formally gotten over her family’s demise, seeing the source of all of her nightmares brought her to a screeching halt. He was back, he was here, and he needed to suffer a fate much worse than what he wrought on her all of these years. She would see to his end, even if it meant meeting her own.

Revenge is so bitter, the intensity leaving a foul taste of it on your tongue…

“Demonio,” with a voice as strong as she could muster, the insult rolled off her tongue, nails biting into her palm from tightly clenched fists, eyes levelling him across the field, hatred burning deep within dark depths.

Her reaction seemed to amuse the simulacrum, his head tilting to the side, a low chuckle being heard, “You seem familiar… It’s a shame I’ve killed too many parents to recall you.”

All she could recall was her own scream of pain, rage, and agony echoing in the background, rushing at him with a gun in hand, ready to end it all. End all of the suffering, the killing, the haunting of dreams, the nights of crying alone in a lonely bed, not knowing the love of a family, the comfort of friends, or the joy of feeling true happiness…

& -

But death always had other plans, having the upper hand…

He was unkillable, having found out that his brain, his life source was in another location… It was time for another heist, another mission impossible, but to her, it was every bit worth it. If it meant ridding the world of his very presence, she’d die trying. Breaking in had been easy enough, even going so far as to try to destroy his source code, the very thing tying him to this ungodly earth.

But yet again was the opportunity taken from her, alarms sounding and guards swarming in from every door. With no other choice, she fought her way out, the lab exploding around her, debris littering her clothes and hair… She was a sight to behold in the broad daylight, looking like she’d fought in a war. Perhaps she had. She’d been fighting her whole life and it had finally caught up with her.

Covered in ashes and blood, she stood tall, a pheonix bright in the light, dangerously beautiful…

From that moment on, from her destructive entrance to an up close and personal run in with death, she’d found footing within the games while trying to find a way to bring down the merciless killer within their ranks. While others still off’d her, some attempted to speak to her and seem friendly. It was appreciated, but not necessary. She’d prefer to be alone rather than involve anyone else in personal affairs. It was safer that way, less collateral damage if the worst scenario were to pan out.

The most jarring part was when the simulacrum sought her out and told her of his own plans, plotting his own demise. It left her unnerved and torn. If she finished out her quest on revenge, he’d also get what he wanted… Should he be left to suffer? It seems as if fate let the choice up to her and she didn’t like it. What was the right answer? Her getting her revenge and him getting his dying wish? Or was it her leaving him to suffer for all eternity, trapped in iron prison with no hope to escape?

& -

Life is full of choices, some easier than others… The outcome is for you to decide…

They always ask her why she chose to live the way she did.

She’d always give them the same answer and smile, “Why not?”

#Loba Andrade #loba apex legends #apex legends

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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Never Meant to Be

Characters: Angela Ziegler, Reaper/Gabriel Reyes, Genji Shimada, Tracer/Lena Oxton, Widowmaker

Summary: Takes place during a raid of an Overwatch base with Mercy being caught in it. She crosses paths with Reaper and chaos follows.

Rating: T for mentions of blood

Categories: angst, hurt

The air was thick with smoke, falling debris and ash littering the ground as explosions rocked the normally peaceful atmosphere. Her normally stark white and vibrant orange suit was dimmed by the soot covering her from head to toe, the headpiece of her biotic scanner having been broken by a rock. The attack on their base had been unpredicted but very calculated by Talon making her wonder if there had been an undercover agent in their midst. There was no way someone could have walked in and simply set the bombs off, it made no sense. They were very thorough in their routine security checks… Or so she thought.

With a grimace, Angela continued on, hand grasping her bloodied shoulder. Honestly, she would have gotten out sooner but being her, she did her best to do a sweep of the crumbling building, digging through rubble or administering aid when possible. It’s just who she was. Nearly tripping over what was left of a pillar, the medic caught herself with a steady hand on the wall. From where she was in the building, she could see the dozens of Overwatch agents fleeing the building, relief immediately flooding her body. Good, they’d made it… It was now time for her to evacuate. Hopefully the team had done the same, but Angela knew they were capable of taking care of themselves--well, most of the time anyway. Righting herself, the blonde doctor continued the descent down to the first floor, her steps lighter than they had been before. She would make it, they all would. Talon may have destroyed their base, but not their spirit.

Nearing the base of the stairs, Angela heard heavy footsteps causing her to pause momentarily and listen. From the way it sounded, they were very close and she vaguely wondered if they were in trouble or trying to escape the building just as she was. Rounding the corner and entering the room, she froze in her tracks. Blue eyes would widen in shock, hand lifting to cover pale pale lips. It was as if Death himself was standing before her, the bone mask sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. Her intrusion did not go unnoticed, the dark hooded figure now giving her his full attention. An inclination of his head caused her to step back, the air suddenly turning cold and tense between them.

“Reaper,” she whispered, heart pounding in her chest. Was he the one behind the attack? All evidence seemed to point towards him, yet something was off. Why attack a small base? Why not the main building?

A deep chuckle was her response, the sound reverberating in her bones, “Mercy.”

This was not good. Angela knew various Overwatch agents were on Talon’s list but she did not expect to be cornered so easily or be so alone, so vulnerable. “What are you doing here?” The answer was obvious, but she decided to tread the waters anyway. Even though her voice was soft, she stood firm, eyes never leaving him.

“You tell me, Doc.” It was more of a rhetorical question but the answer itself seemed to stop time. She hadn’t been called that since… Since…

No.

“What… What did you just call me?” That can’t be right. The only one who called her that is dead, has been for years and yet… His silence only confirmed her suspicions, Death seemingly toying with her. It was almost as if he was amused by the predicament as he stood with his arms crossed beneath his chest.

“Gabriel…? No, it can’t be,” her voice would trail off then, pale orbs filling with sorrow. A dam that she had desperately trying to build was suddenly burst open, emotions racking her frail frame. He was supposed to be dead, they had a burial for him, they mourned him, her heart was broken over him. “You’re not him,” Angela whispered, her mind frantically trying to put up what defenses it could.

“I’m not? Is it because I’m a monster? A monster you helped create?” Reaper’s voice was dark, a certain rage lying underneath the calm exterior. He took a step forward, nearly towering over her then.

A shaky hand immediately flew to her pistol, breath hitching in her throat. “Helped create? I’m not sure I understand?” In all honesty, Angela didn’t understand. How could she have created something so dark and unearthly? In his close proximity, she could smell death and decay rolling off of him in waves, the severity of it nearly causing her to gag.

“You don’t remember? You don’t remember calling out, falling to your hands and knees, digging through countless amounts of rubble until your hands were bleeding and you were exhausted? Don’t remember trying to resurrect a dead man even though there was nothing left of the physical body? I guess there are limits when it comes to playing God.” His words were like venom, stinging her very core, each word causing her to wince. During his verbatim, Reaper had made his way into her space, close enough she could reach out and touch him if she so wished.

In that moment, all traces of doubt were gone, it was him. No one knew what she had been through that day and to hear it brought up so plainly tore at her, blue eyes misting over with tears. “Gabriel, I’m… I didn’t know how it would affect you but I had to try… I had to try to save you. I needed to save you.” Having lost so much that day, Angela couldn’t bear to lose someone else, especially someone close to her. She gave her all and then some to bring him back, working tirelessly until the point of exhaustion and someone physically pulling her away from the scene. Perhaps she had been selfish in her ideals but at that point during the crisis, she felt as though she needed to prove that she could save someone, to prove herself as worthy in holding the passage of life or death in her hands. The other underlying factor was that while they hadn’t agreed on everything in the organization, Angela respected Gabriel as an officer and as a man. He was a close friend and often lent an ear when she complained about Jack Morrison’s running of Overwatch or just listened to her incessant ramblings of nanobiotics and various subjects. It also didn’t go unnoticed by the young doctor that her heart would flutter in her chest at the very mention of his name.

“It would have been better for us both if you hadn’t tried,” his raspy voice brought her back to reality, hollow eyes staring into her own.

The implication of his words hit her like a ton of bricks, her medical instincts taking over. “Are you in pain? Why do you hide behind a mask?” Forgoing any warnings her brain was throwing her, Angela reached up to place a hand on his mask but was promptly stopped, clawed fingers gripping her wrist.

“Rather bold of you, Doc, when moments ago you were trembling in my presence,” Reaper sounded amused then, a deep rumble vibrating in his chest. While his grip on her wasn’t crushing, it was firm enough to where she couldn’t escape his grasp.

“I just want to know what’s been done to you, I could maybe reverse it and you wouldn’t have to worry about… About this.” The blonde nodded towards his face, worry etched in her features. If she had caused such damage, it was probable she could fix it, right? Even if it took time, modifications to the nanobiotics, she’d try.

“The damage is done.” Dropping her wrist, Reaper stepped back, looking off to the side, studying the broken glass of the window.

Just as she was about to speak, a hand pressed against where his ear would have been, as if he was receiving something across comms.

Isn’t she a target, Reaper? Either you shoot, or I will. We’ve overstayed our welcome.

Drawing a shotgun, he levelled it at her, no sign of remorse or emotion as he stood there. Time stood still now, the two of them engaged in a stare down. Who would move first? Or, who would break first?

Pursing her lips, Angela stood tall, eyes glossing over once more. This was their reality now and they were on opposite sides. They’d never be able to regain the time they’ve lost or rekindle what they once had. Those were the thoughts that hurt her the most. Why had it turned out this way? This brought about all new heartache that was so deep, she clutched the front of her Valkyrie suit.

In a moment’s hesitation, a shot was fired, but not from his own weapon, the sound echoing off the walls around them before a flash of green was in front of her, the sound of metal clashing causing her to flinch. The bullet was deflected into Reaper, causing him to hiss in pain before using his wraith form to escape the room.

“Angela!” The cybernetic ninja landed before her, sword drawn at the ready. “Are you alright?”

“G-Genji?” Her voice broke then, Angela aware of how exhausted she truly was as she wobbled on unsteady legs. “I’m fine, but we should get out of here, it’s unsafe.”

“Everyone else is out, we were worried when you didn’t make it to evac. Can you make it?” Scanning her for injuries, Genji noted her bloody and now bruising shoulder and broken halo but other than minor scrapes and cuts, she was mostly fine.

With a nod of her head, Angela gave him a weak smile, “I think so. Thank you, Genji.”

Hesitating a moment as if he didn’t believe her, Genji responded with a nod of his own, “Very well.”

It only took them a few steps before Genji realized that she, in fact, could not make it on her own. Fatigue had begun to settle in her bones, her gaze hazy and her breathing uneven. Stopping, he crouched before her, causing her to nearly stumble over him due to her lack of attention. “Get on, it’ll take less time to make it out of here.”

“Genji, there’s no need for this, I am perfectly fi--”

“Angela, you’re not. I can see it and you know it. Now,” motioning once more for her to get on his back, he waited, not saying another word.

With an apologetic look, she gingerly placed herself on his back, hands around his neck as his hands hooked under her legs. “I’m sorry, Genji…”

Humming in response, Genji stood, surveying the area for any threats before continuing toward their destination. “You should have been more careful. You could have really gotten hurt or worse--” His words fell on deaf ears having noticed that she was asleep, her breathing evening out against his back. Shifting his hold on her to make her more comfortable, the ninja shook his head, wondering what he was going to do with her. Angela never ceased to amaze him.

Arriving at the makeshift medbay, he was met with an exuberant Tracer who was throwing too many questions at him before he could even respond to the first one, most of them being about the injured woman on his back. “Tracer, I know just as much as you do at the moment but Ang-- Mercy needs to rest. She was with Reaper when I found her.”

“Do you think he did this to her? He’s lucky I hadn’t found him first! Poor doc, I hope she pulls through it okay!” Letting his slip up go, Tracer frowned at the sight of her.

“I’m sure she will, she’s one of the strongest people I know.” With the help of the former Cadet, they were able to lay Angela down fairly easily without waking her, stepping aside to let other medics tend to her injuries. While they were both anxious and worried, there was nothing they could do but wait for her to wake and fill them in on what happened.

Unheard by Tracer, Genji whispered, “Please be okay, Angela…”

#angela ziegler #genji shimada #gabriel reyes #lena oxton #overwatch #angst #THIS FIC HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD FOR MONTHS #i had to do it #not sure how else to tag it #no real ships here?#maybe if you squint?

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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Am I the only one who thinks that ravenclaw is really underrated and we are not mentioned enough ? Like... everyone think that we are only smartasses but thats not true ! We are lot more and some of us are not even that typical A students. Our house is also really acceptable of different people. We just dont care. \We like to be unique and we are also really creative orrr... artsy if you want! I want to spread this more since most people doesnt know that.

You definitely said it all- We really are underrated, but that's why I love ravenclaw so much, everyone here chose to be in this particular house even though it isn't the most popular one, we are here because we saw how fascinating it is, and I think that's pretty cool ;)

#harry potter #Ravenclaw

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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@fadenet characters of color event: princess azula ♡ avatar: the last airbender

“My own mother thought I was a monster. She was right of course, but it still hurt.”

#atla #azula #she was so pretty

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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(Part 2)

Summary: Short drabbles about the many times Octane fell for Wattson during the games and out of the games. Rating: K-T Relationships: Octane/Wattson Tags: Fluff, Humor, Octane being dumb, Wattson being a cinnamon roll

The second time Octane fell for Wattson was when he saw her tinkering on her pylon, the static causing her hair to stand on end, a concentrated look on her face. She’d never looked more breathtaking.

It was quiet in the halls, his daily stroll taking him anywhere and nowhere, the need to move driving him on. The silence allowed his mind to wander, his thoughts circulating around the blonde. Their conversation was quite comical considering they’d never really spoke before she knocked him senseless, him commenting on her strength, her blushing up to her ears. It was the adrenaline, she had said, hands covering her face. Even though it was muffled, Octane had heard her and he answered with a laugh, “Keep tellin’ yourself that, mi amiga!”

A loud clatter startled him, halting his steps. Peering around the corner, Octane noticed the familiar pylon sitting on a table top, the sparks popping around the metal. A curse was heard, the scientist appearing behind the table, frustration clearly etched into her normally soft features. “I don’t understand what the problem is…” Speaking to no one in particular, Wattson sat down in one of the many chairs in the lab, fingers massaging her temples.

The mechanism itself was a mystery to Octane, having no idea how her brilliant mind came up with such a contraption, he just understood what it did and how it influenced strategies in the Apex games. “Wait!” Her voice rang out, causing him to jump as she quickly stood, screwdriver and wrench in hand. The beaming smile that was on her lips caused his heart to momentarily stop, eyes trained on the lithe figure before him. How he had never noticed her beauty before, he wasn’t sure, but looking at her like this was something else. Silently, he watched her work, interested in all of the twists and turns in her movements, lip bitten between her bottom teeth. Definitely beautiful.

A loud pop was heard, Octane immediately becoming concerned at the brightness of the static shock that was emitted from the pylon. He was about to step in and check on her when she popped back up, an excited squeal escaping her. “That does it!” With a clap, she sat the tools down, watching as the electricity was freely escaping the machine. It seemed Wattson had finally fixed it. It was then that she noticed his presence, a friendly wave sent his way.

“I wasn’t aware I had a visitor,” he heard in her thick accent, hands clasped in front of her in a signature fashion.

“I was just takin’ a stroll and I heard somethin’ interesting so I came to check it out,” he responded, hand gesturing to her handiwork.

“Oh! I see. After the last fight, it got damaged pretty badly so repairs were required.” Wattson was still smiling at him when the machine crackled once more, the static electricity letting itself become known as it caused her normally clean kept hair to stand on end.

Not being able to help himself, Octane laughed as the blush flew to her cheeks, her hands coming up to try and tame the unruly mess. “Does that normally happen? It’s quite… shocking?” His attempt at a joke was lame but it caused her to relax and laugh with him.

“Well, sometimes! It just depends on the severity of repairs that have to be made.” Giving up on her hair (at least until she switched the pylon off), Wattson now gave him her full attention.

Honestly, she looked adorable like this and he couldn’t help but smile, even though she couldn’t see it behind his mask. “The hard work sure pays off, amiga. I’d never be able to make somethin’ like that.”

The honesty behind his compliment brought her heart a flutter, her flush darkening ever so slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, shifting her weight on her feet.

“Silva, yer gonna be late for lunch! Where are ya hidin’ this time?” Lifeline’s voice echoed down the hall, causing them to both look for the source.

Seeing her approach, Octane shrugged his shoulders, “Guess I’ve been found.” A giggle was his answer, Wattson shutting off her machine just in time for the medic to stop in front of her lab.

“Whaddya doin’ here? Bothering her again with yer nonsense?” Hands on her hips, Lifeline sent him a scowl.

“No, he was interested in my work.” Wattson stepped in then, smiling softly at the red head.

With a disbelieving look aimed at her childhood friend, Lifeline let the subject drop, “Ya, sure. Let’s go, Silva, before ya get into trouble.” Turning to go, she let them be, making note to ask him what was really going on.

“Ah, well, I guess I’d better go or she’ll be draggin’ me by my ear next.” With a nod, he turned to go, a wave sent over his shoulder.

“See you!” Wattson waved in return even though he couldn’t see it. There was a certain lightness in her heart from their encounter and the smile never once left her face.

#wattane #octavio silva #natalie paquette #turtlesunshine

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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“Everything can be hacked… and everyone.”

she’s here!!1 (pardon the quality I hope this uploads right omg)

commission info 1|2

#Olivia colomar #sombra #overwatch #WHAT A BABE

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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in your eyes i saw the sun shine, i saw the sun rise, and i saw a love that will never end, because i’ll be there to protect you.

#ichihime #bleach #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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The Many Times Octane Fell for Wattson

(Part 1)

Summary: Short drabbles about the many times Octane fell for Wattson during the games and out of the games. Rating: K-T Relationships: Octane/Wattson Tags: Violence, Fluff, Humor, Octane being dumb, Wattson being a cinnamon roll

The first time Octane fell for Wattson was when he got sucker punched by her when she came out of a portal.

The sickening crack of his jaw being dislocated rang in his ears as he was knocked to the ground, the triumphant blonde now standing over him and hands clapping. “That was so much fun!” Her smile was so bright then, eyes shining with mirth as the voidwalker offered a slight smile in return. Their smiles soon fell as suppressing fire came their way, the two figures retreating to take cover.

“I’ve got ya, Silva,” a familiar voice came from behind him, DOC already taking care of the extent of his injuries. All that was left now was a bruised ego and the subtle flutter of his heart.

Octane was quiet, his mind still circling around the blonde scientist. Never before had he been hit with such ferocity that it left his mind spinning, especially by Wattson no less. She could definitely hold her own in the games and he made sure to note that.

“Ya ok, now? Yer bein’ awfully quiet. Did the hit finally knock the rest of ya brain loose?”

A rap on his shoulder brought him back to reality, shaking his head. “Thanks, Che, but it’ll take a lot more to take me down!” Jumping back up, the springs in his legs hissed, eyes scanning the battlefield for the girl that had knocked him senseless. With no sight of her, Octane pulled the wingman from its holster, turning to Lifeline. “Ready to go, mi hermana?”

Even if he didn’t find her, he’d make sure to speak to her after the game. She could pack a punch and he was impressed. When he’d heard confirmation from his teammate, he threw out his jump pad, adrenaline pumping through his veins before darting forward into the fray.

“Yip-yah!”

#wattane #octane #wattson #octavio silva #natalie paquette #well ive jumped on this train oof

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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Open Pt 3 (END)

When he found her, she was a crumpled mess in a desolate corner, barely visible in the dim lights. She was shaking, fingers tangled in loose raven waves and her breathing ragged. His heart ached for her. Slowly he approached, his steps light in hopes not to startle her or cause her to run again. “Renee,” he began, continuing to speak to her when she didn’t respond, “Renee, look at me.”

Run, danger, move--

Pale eyes snapped open, fear and uncertainty rushing through her veins as she searched for the danger her voices spoke of. Once her gaze landed on him, she was back on her feet, looking every bit like a cornered animal ready to run. He wasn’t supposed to find her, see her in such a weak state. Why had he followed her? “Why’d you follow me?” She hadn’t intended to sound as harsh as her voice projected but it was too late now, his momentary flinch catching her attention. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Wraith was angry, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out-- and he was by far anything but. “You’re probably right and judging by the atmosphere, I’d say you’re not exactly looking for a shoulder to cry on. Not that I’d ever complain or mind you know, if you really needed it--” You’re rambling again, Elliott. The more he spoke, the deeper her brows furrowed, annoyance beginning to roll off her in waves. Not the right approach… Clearing his throat, he tried again, “Look, something is wrong with you, I know that much, and whether you like it or not, we are a team. We look out for each other, in and out of the games. We’re friends, Renee. Please, talk to me.” Poking at an angry Wraith was never a good idea, he knew that, but he had to try.

Cares for you, don’t let him see you weak--

Another wince, the voices prodding at her subconscious. Mirage was being sincere, his heart on his sleeve out in the open for everyone to see. She’d never let anyone in before, never had anyone that cared for her well being in such a way. She was used to being alone, always taking care of herself with just basic survival skills and just enough to get by. Why did he care so much? She was messed up, unexplainable, and barely even knew herself. Why waste your time on something that was broken beyond repair? Voice barely above a whisper and so very fragile, she answered, “Why..?” It was all beginning to tumble down, her walls, her defense, her brave and stoic facade. He was going to see the shattered woman beneath the tough exterior and she couldn’t stop it. “You shouldn’t waste your time with me…”

Watching her unravel before him was like seeing her in an entirely new light and she couldn’t have been more beautiful to him. Her hair was a mess, uniform still dirty and stained with flecks of blood, and the way she was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth was slightly distracting. “Like I said, we are a team, me, you, and Pathfinder. In the games, out of the games, we care about you. If something is wrong, we try to fix it. Which is why I’m here, because I care about you. I want to help you. You mean a lot to me-- I-I mean us! Yeah, us!.” The way her eyes widened slightly caused a slight flush to fall along his cheeks. Had he said too much? What if it all backfired and she didn’t want to have anything to do with him? Why was it so hard to talk to her as Elliott rather than the fake facade of over confident Mirage? Smooth, way to go, Elliott…

He was nervous now, the flush evident on his cheeks and his weight shifting between his feet. The way he was speaking to her was almost endearing and the voices in her head began to quiet, eyes softening as she studied him. How had he managed to calm her so easily? How had he managed to quiet down the turbulence within her mind? In all honesty, she had no idea, but one thing was for sure, she didn’t deserve him. He was too pure, too light for her own personal darkness to taint, but he was always there. Here, in the games, in every dimension she’s portaled through, he’s always at her side in some way.

“Renee, say something, please? You’re not gonna kill me are you?”

The nervous lilt to his voice brought her back to reality and before she could stop it, a smirk spread across her lips with a soft chuckle on her breath, a lone tear trailing down her cheek. “You’re an idiot. A persistent idiot.”

Not quite the answer I was expecting but I’ll take it-- wait, why was she crying? “Er, thank you?” Was it a backhanded compliment? He couldn’t tell but he let bygones be bygones since he got her to smile and not kill him like the many scenarios his mind imagined. Lifting a hand, he scratched the back of his neck, dark eyes still on the small woman before him. “Are you okay? Is something still bothering you?”

With a shake of her head, Wraith took a deep breath before exhaling, hand wiping away the evidence of her turmoil. “No, not any more. I’m fine.” Thanks to you. Taking a spare hair tie off her wrist, she began trying to tame the mess of hair that had fallen loose and fix it back in the signature bun she always wore. “More importantly, are you? You mentioned something earlier on the field.”

“Oh, yeah, that--” Now he was once again caught in her piercing stare. She was breathtaking. “I, well,” just tell her. “My, uh, my mom’s been sick and lately it’s only been getting worse. I’m all she’s got left and I’m not sure how much time we have before…” His voice trailed off then, eyes anywhere but on her and hands limp at his sides.

What a cruel game death played.

Once the bun on her head was secure, Wraith listened as he spoke, arms crossed under her chest. Family, something she didn’t have or remember having. Repeating her earlier gesture, she laid a soft hand on his arm with a slight frown, “I’m sorry.” Situations like these made her awkward due to the fact that she barely had enough people skills to make it through, and comforting someone was still new territory.

The warmth of her hand was felt through his jumpsuit, his gaze softening as it landed on her, his own hand covering her own. Mirage knew she struggled in a social environment, but her even trying to remotely comfort him was more than enough. “Thank you,” he responded, letting his touch linger a moment longer before pulling away, heart fluttering in his chest. The smile he gave her then was brighter than ever, his old antics already sliding into place. “What'd ya say when we get back, drinks are on me? I feel like we could use it after today. And who could say no to spending time with me?” A wink was sent her way and she merely rolled her eyes.

“You’re on.”

#miraith #mirage #wraith #turtlesunshine #FIN

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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what if…………. she got the plotline she was promised….. haha unless?

#WHAT PLOTLINE IM LOST #orihime #bleach

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xzhonglis · 4 years

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Open Part 2

Another battle won, the trio came out battered, bruised, and exhausted. It was quiet on the dropship, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Mirage, Wraith, and Pathfinder all sat together, the turbulence jostling them every once in a while.

“Friends, I am going to get some more medical supplies for your injuries. I shall return.”

A grateful smile was given to the MRVN, watching as he disappeared around the corner, seeking Lifeline. Wraith really enjoyed Pathfinder’s company and constant positivity. They worked well together as a team and they could usually get out of a sticky situation. At first she was skeptical, but he gradually wormed his way in and she was glad he had. Mirage was a different story. He was loud, cocky, and too confident for her liking yet he consistently chose her, chose to be on her team, trusted her and listened to strategies. Wraith would brush him off, ignore him, even snap at him occasionally but he always stayed. He was always there and with time, her defense began to fall and he slowly edged in, earning his place right next to Pathfinder. She trusted them. Turning to face Mirage, she began, “About earlier--”

He was asleep, arms crossed on his chest, head slumped forward. A small smile then fell across her lips as she watched him. Looking at him like this made him seem so vulnerable, a softness gracing his features. In the quiet of the dropship, not another legend in sight, she raised a tentative hand, brushing the unruly, mussed brown waves off of his forehead, his brows scrunching together at the contact. Withdrawing her hand, she went back to silently observing. It was then that the voices caused a disturbance, making her wince, palm gripping the side of her head.

Don’t deserve him, too unstable, too dangerous--

“No, that’s not rig--” A groan was heard, her eyes squeezing shut. It was no longer quiet, the voices seeming to amplify every sound around her, the steady rumble of the dropship, footsteps echoing in the hall, even Mirage’s breathing sounded eerily loud. Another hand came up, tugging at her hair, “Stop, not here, not now…”

Unbeknownst to her, Mirage was awake having heard her speak and her restless movements. Immediate concern washed over him, hand reaching out to touch her, “Renee, are you alright?”

He’s too good for you, you’ll never be enough--

Recoiling like he had burned her, she stood from the bench, breathing heavily and sweat dripping down her brow. “I- Sorry.” Turning on her heel she raced from the lounge, unsure of where she was going. Quiet, she needed somewhere quiet, somewhere to recollect herself, away from him so the voices would stop. No one bothered to stop her, instead watching her dart down the hall, unsure of what had happened.

Mirage was left confused, not sure if he should follow. His gut told him no, but even further down, something was pushing him to move. Standing, he began his pursuit after the shifter, ignoring the stares and whispers of the other legends. He’d find her, he’d make sure of it.

Please be safe, Renee.

#turtlesunshine #mirage #elliot witt #wraith #renee blasey #miraith

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