basically siblings

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ellievsbear

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DEAR READER
Stranger Things

Discoholic đȘ©
h

JBB: An Artblog!
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Andulka
Today's Document
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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noise dept.
RMH
đȘŒ

oozey mess
Xuebing Du
Misplaced Lens Cap
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from United States

seen from Netherlands
seen from TĂŒrkiye

seen from Malaysia
seen from Japan

seen from Australia
seen from United States
@racket-queen-blog
basically siblings
apparently the theme of this blog is now âoverwatch characters sing and play guitarâ
@or-15-a @swiftwingedmercury
It was another hot day in Numbani. Fareeha was glad to be back in her Helix uniform, which was designed to be cool in the heat. Overwatch had never really understood that their dress blues needed to function in hot weather as well as cold. It was the second day of a three day conference on God programs, and Helix had asked the Lieutenant to speak about her experience guarding Anubis.
The bright side of the trip is that she had been able to spend at least some of the time with Orisa, and the two had decided to use Fareehaâs afternoon break to grab a plate of suya from a local vendor. The city around them rose proudly, and with every reason. In every corner and sidestreet there were signs of a healthy populace: garbage cans lined the streets, artists thrived with galleries and boutiques, and people were roaming the streets as if nothing could ever harm them. Amari made a mental note to take a proper vacation here someday.
âThank you for showing me around,â the pilot smiled, âThis conference has been a lot less boring because of you.â
âI appreciate Overwatchâs presence at this event.â She smiles with her eyes âyour organizationâs level-headed input on such a contentious issue has been valuable at the conference so far. Plus, youâre very good company~â
She takes the dish theyâve ordered and brings it to her face to take in the scent, loving the odor of her local quinine. The two had been posted as security detail for the event, the Numbani police force correctly believing that the force could benefit from a joint mission with the recently-revived organization. Many countries were still on the fence as to whether or not to allow the revival to continue, or to shatter it with force. Cooperation with a shining pinnacle of peace like Numbani would go a long way to swaying the decisions of pro-peace nations.
âI must admit, Iâm personally against the idea of the revival of the God-Omnium program. Non-unified, userdev-style improvements seem to allow the units that it produces to better socialize.â It goes without saying that sheâs a perfect example of that kind of one-on-one omnic socialization.
âItâs not my decision though, and I will stand behind the councilâs decision if they decide to approve a restart. If it does, I will welcome whatever-â she cuts herself off
âhold on⊠Farah, set your scanner to 243 Mhtz. Thereâs a distress call on old NATO frequenciesâ
The pop and fizzle of explosions, yellow-colored dust hanging in the stagnant air, the oppresive heat from the sun above and fires down below.
This is what Angela Ziegler rushed head-long in to, in full Valkerie armor protocol and armed to the teeth. Being a surgeon without affiliation (other than her own reputation) meant frequently travel from city to city, crisis to crisis. She previously had spent nearly a year in Mosul, developing a close partnership with the medic teams caring for wounded civilians in the continuing Omnic conflict there. However, with a tentative peace being reached, Angela deemed it appropriate to search elsewhere to continue her work.
Ever the restless one.
Numbani had not hit on her radar as a conflict zone; if anything, it was a haven of peace and a flourishing city full of potential. She had spent the previous few days lazily roaming the streets, relishing in the frequent and freely-available hot food and clean water, the sounds of children at play and adults working without the fear of violence keeping them indoors. Even the Omnic population here seemed content, coexisting without friction with the human populace. Unlike in England or Russia, they were granted the rights of any resident in the city.
Until today.
A distress signal from south of Unity Plaza sent her armored and ready without question. Rounding a block, she saw what was all too familiar in her eyes; a near war-zone. Some sort of explosive device had gone off in front of a building, unrecognizable in its usage. She scanned the space in front of her, looking for those most gravely injured. It appeared as though many of those near the blast managed to get away in time, but others lay on the ground, struggling to stand.
Dashing towards them, she stopped and went down to her knees next to a man who appeared to have shrapnel in his leg.
She worked quickly and effortlessly, this routine performed countless times. Call for ambulatory services and a police force, then to work on the patient. He was conscious, staring up at her with confused and wild eyes. It was as if he was looking at something far beyond and behind her.
âWhat is your name?â she asked, placing gauze and wadding onto the deep wound in his leg.
No response. -He must be shocked by the blast, maybe his hearing has been affected.- she thought.
âCan you hear me?â she said louder. The bleeding in his leg was now controlled, and she glanced around the street again. Ambulances had arrived, picking up those less-wounded. She gestured towards one of the paramedic crews towards herself and the man she tended to.
âHe is unresponsive but conscious,â she explained as they moved him to a stretcher, âCheck his hearing-â
The man she treated was now looking above where she stood, his expression one of panic.
âYou are going to be okay,â Angela reassured the manâŠ
Then, another blast. This one was in the middle of the street, but without the metal shrapnel and orange blaze that accompanied the first. A flash of white light, streams of smoke pouring from the epicenter. The ambulance crews frantically put all of the victims from the first blast into their vehicles, calling for police backup. This was something larger, more dangerous.
From the uppermost windows of the surrounding buildings a team of soldiers leapt down to the street, being joined by a squad from the end of the city block. They wore respirators and heavy clothing, and were by no means a rag-tag group of rebels or a street gang. Angela found it difficult to breath, let alone see, covering her mouth, wheezing. Through the thick white smoke, she could see an insignia she recognized. Silver, like a stylized rams-head.
Talon.
She felt her heart drop to her stomach, but this was no time for her to lose focus. Pulling her pistol out of its holster, she aimed it towards the men approaching, never the one to take the first shot. She knew well from speaking with her former colleagues that Talon had its ax to grind against Overwatch and its previous affiliates, and to always watch her back in case they were to strike. How did they know she was here? Was this first incident staged, to bring her into a trap?
A nearly silent shot rippled through the air, from the Talon forces directly aimed at the Doctor. She felt an intense pressure in left shoulder, knocking the pistol down from its aimed position, then the feeling of her back opening up, ripping.
She ran backwards a few paces, able to recompose herself after the shot and firing a few back at the unit. They made contact, but she knew as well as them that she could not take on this mass of highly-armed soldiers using just her pistol. The Numbani police forces would too be no match for this group⊠alone, at least.
Moving through the ever-increasing burning in her shoulder, Angela ducked behind a concrete roadblock. pressing her fingers against the transmitter on her cheek, she began to relay a distress signal:
âBreak-Break, this is Victor - Lima - Kilo - One -Three. Call to all available personnel. We have an emergency at street name Zeta, cross street Honeybush. Twenty men, all armed.There are civilians in the area who cannot evacuate, I am wounded as are others. Call for 09 medical evac and armed backup. I repeat, call for 09 medical evac and armed backup-â
Before she could finish, a hail of gunfire at the concrete block forced her to move her position. Taking refuge behind an ambulance whose crew fled on foot, she continued, feeling her breath weaken:
âRequest for response from responding personnel, over.â
Now to wait. Would anyone respond? Could she fight them off until someone arrived, if they arrived? The work she did not guarantee her life day to day, so she was prepared to face death in this moment. The fear lingered still, but she shook it from her head. Pressed against the cool metal of the ambulance, Angela took in a shuddered inhale, then exhale. She turned around its corner, firing a few more rounds off at the mass of men approaching her.
Fareeha pulled a comm from her side and held it to her ear, listening.
"...cross street Honeybush. Twenty men, all armed. There are civilians in the area who cannot evacuate, I am wounded as are others. Call for 09 medical evac and armed backup. I repeat, call for 09 medical evac and armed backup-â
In a fluid motion, Fareeha replaced her comm at her side, dropped her plate of food in a trashcan, and pulled an earpiece out to place in her ear.
âRequest for response from responding personnel, over.â
The soldier nudged a button on her comm.
"This is Papa-Hotel-Romeo-Hotel responding. We are 10 blocks west and en route. Do you copy?"
Her mind was already racing. Twenty enemy targets and no mechsuit, only her side arm. The first priority would have to be medical evacuation. Not knowing whether or not there would be backup, they would probably need a distraction. Looking to the east, she could see now some kind of disturbance. This far from the center, no one seemed to have heard the blast over the usual city hustle.
"Orisa, how fast can we get there?"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fareeha Amari and Amelie Lacroix are as different as two people could be, except that they've both fallen for Angela Ziegler. As the two of them resolve their differences and make peace, a new sort of tension springs up.
@or-15-a @swiftwingedmercury
It was another hot day in Numbani. Fareeha was glad to be back in her Helix uniform, which was designed to be cool in the heat. Overwatch had never really understood that their dress blues needed to function in hot weather as well as cold. It was the second day of a three day conference on God programs, and Helix had asked the Lieutenant to speak about her experience guarding Anubis.
The bright side of the trip is that she had been able to spend at least some of the time with Orisa, and the two had decided to use Fareeha's afternoon break to grab a plate of suya from a local vendor. The city around them rose proudly, and with every reason. In every corner and sidestreet there were signs of a healthy populace: garbage cans lined the streets, artists thrived with galleries and boutiques, and people were roaming the streets as if nothing could ever harm them. Amari made a mental note to take a proper vacation here someday.
"Thank you for showing me around," the pilot smiled, "This conference has been a lot less boring because of you."
Peeking Out
âSure, but donât ya go bashinâ no bots up like last time. I had tâ take thâ heat fer all that mess. Yâknow how many toilets they got in this place? A fuck ton.â
Slightly grumbly about that, just slightly.
âSo a pretty lady who works with all everyone, ainât no gruntân ainât no pushover, because I know ya ainât lookinâ at jusâ tits, way yer talkinâ.â
He tapped his finger to his chin, brow furrowing and hat  wavering atop of his head. Really there werenât many people that could be in this list, period. Medical, kinda, Sciences, kinda, Weapons, kinda, but of those there was only one who-
ââŠshit girl, donât tell me ya after Angie.â
Fareeha's face felt hot, but she didn't care. "I'm not after her," she clarified, "I know she's too busy." Knowing she was going to the shooting range after this, there was no way to wipe the grin off the little Amariâs face.
"Also there's no way someone that pretty doesn't have like a dozen people trying to ask them out." She rolled her eyes in typical teenager fashion.
@racket-queenâ liked for a starter
âFareeha.â
She composed herself. Satya wanted to speak with the other for a while now; confront some feelings, release a weight. She sighed, and stared at her, a bit intimidated by her stance. Fareeha appeared serious, standing upright as Satya herself did and making eye contact.
ââŠI donât know how you do this. I cannot seem toâŠâcommunicate wellâ with my team. Fareeha, Overwatch is a strange transition. I used to be capable of working with the people I am assigned to, but they areâŠstrange. Theyâre all so different. And yet you treat them like family.â
âThis is something I cannot do, and I admit that to you. I want to ask: why-how are you so willing to work with some of these people?
It felt like it was the first time Satya had admitted to having difficulty with something. She had always struck Fareeha as a composed woman, and it seemed a little special that Miss Vaswani would bring this to the mechsuit pilot. Â
"I am at an advantage," she answered, "My mother raised me in an Overwatch facility. This is home, all these strong personalities and various ways to do things."
She wanted to give her new teammate better advice than to give it time, something actionable. Fareeha held a finger to her chin and searched her thoughts, eyes scanning a corner of the room as though reading some invisible holoscreen.
After a momentary pause, she continued,Â
"Maybe the problem is inverted. Instead of adapting yourself to communicate with all of them, let them know how best to communicate with you."
Athens
âThereâs no way out for me. This is all I have.â She pursed her lips and rested her chin in the palm of one of her hands, she propped her elbow on the table. The morality of her actions was questionable, but she was working to a personal goal. Taking a domestic job like the one the other was describing would never get her anywhere.
âSo unfortunately, no. Besides, TALON would have me killed before I could leave.â
Fareeha was at a loss for what to say, but fortunately the waiter arrived with their food, giving her a few extra moments to think.
"For someone in such a tight situation, you seem to enjoy your work. Do you?" she asked before taking a bite of her meal.
The song is LeĂŁozinho by Caetano Veloso.
another pain flare up. đ„ diseases with no cures. đ„ em all. ill get back to yall when this wears off, tuesday at the latest
Athens
âIâm not a good person. I have limited legal connections. Iâm also on the most wanted list in various countries, last time I checked.â
Sombra laughed and crossed her legs, reaching up to comb through her hair again. She only intended to stop after she managed to get it to a satisfactory level of neatness.
"Hypothetical question," Fareeha leaned back a little, finally relaxing, "If tomorrow you were offered a way out, would you take it? A steady job?"
Her eyes were searching but playful, left hand rubbing her chin thoughtfully.
I bet she sings Thalia when gets drunk  á( á)á ~âȘ
Athens
Sombra felt a look of surprise come onto her. As she had mentioned before, she didnât have too many friends, even fewer who would willingly offer a place to stay for the night.
For good reason too.
Letting out a nervous chuckle, she scratched along her implants, drumming he fingers of her free hand on the table. Even though she was a double agent, working for TALON tended to be risky.
âThatâs nice of you to offer, señorita. But it would put you, not to mention anyone in the vicinity in danger. Iâm afraid Iâll have to pass.â
Fareeha nodded, oddly relieved that there was a boundary now. There was a line that she could not cross, a limit to how much trouble she could get into.
"You have the computer skills to get a very comfortable job as a database administrator and to sit in an expensive house," she noted, suddenly curious, "Why go through all this?"
Athens
âAlready did, chica.â Sombra smirked and handed her menu to the waiter. She had seemed rather engrossed in what had looked like moping for a while, so it wasnât exactly a surprise that she hadnât noticed.
Still, there was a strange feeling in her chest that didnât belong there. Sheâd best forget it.
Fareeha also handed her menu to the waiter. She felt her face heat a little. Having lost face, a strange boldness took over. Might as well go for broke.
"Listen, I know I mentioned the Helix safehouse earlier, but if you're tired of sleeping like that, there's a couch at my hotel room. I can take the couch if you want to take the bed, and there's a real shower."
She backtracked a bit. That had been incredibly forward, "If that's not a good plan, the Helix safehouse is still open."
Athens
Sombra laughed quietly. The look in her eyes was almost like that of a dog that had been kicked and she felt a strange urge to make her feel better. She brushed the thought away and quirked an eyebrow.
âCheer up, Fareeha. At least Iâm here, sĂ? Bet you couldnât have hoped for better company.â
"If I am going to be stuck in a romantic location with a platonic aquaintance, you are the person I would choose, sure." It was mostly true. Fareeha wasn't sure what her feelings for Sombra were. Trouble, that's what they were. Unadulterated trouble.
"You should order?"
Letters
(( NSFW under the cut ))
The Littlest Amari
Amelie allowed herself to be tugged forward,
c h u c k l i n g
at Fareehaâs excitement.
âAh but what about Chopin and Bach? Mozart?â She was only
h a l f
joking. âYou should be listening to the classics, ChĂ©rie.â
"I've never heard of those bands. Are they like Um Kulthum?"
They arrived in her bedroom, a dorm room what was no covered in posters of various tv shows and rock stars. The younger Amari went over to a vintage poster of a waifish white woman with dyed black hair is some sort of 1980's style mullet. Fareeha copied the woman's trying-to-hard-to-look-cool lean and looked over at Amelie.
"You can't honestly tell me you wouldn't want to rock out with her."