#wingsofjustice

[reyes-is-dead]

This is group SMS chat 24/7.

Why?

[whiskeyandsake]

Name one of your favorite tropes.

Enemies to friends to lovers. I live for it!

[wingedangela-blog]

>> “Call me” drabble / starter for @wings-of-justice 

in her dreams, she dreamt of fareeha. little fareeha and a basketball, tossing it to angela. long, dark legs bounding past her and dunking into a net. fareeha screaming at her mother, ana amari punishing her with a glare. a slammed door as members of overwatch looked on. a hand placed on a teen’s shoulder and soothing her after a first heartbreak. a proud smile on a stage as she accepts an award for military service. drunken revelry in celebration. the cairo skyline and arms touching, hairs on end. morrocan mint tea and pomegranate, so warm and red on their lips. carnivorous for devouring the world, and all riding the highs of being the most powerful the world had ever seen. needles and thread against skin after the heat of battle. held hands in the face of loss, so much loss. the loss of overwatch, the loss of her mother. the weight of fareeha’s body against hers as she mourned. the grim determination in the set of her lips when she refused to smile.  and then, in this dream, fareeha, no, pharah, shot from the sky.  angela woke up in a start. cold sweat made her hair cling to her cheeks. the sheets, too, tangled and trapped her. “fareeha,” she murmured, parsing out reality from dream. “fareeha?” where was at now? angela scanned the dark room. a hotel outside seoul, where she had been aiding earthquake victims only hours ago. she checked the clock. 1:28 A.M. she didn’t even sleep that long. fareeha.  angela stared at her phone for the longest time before leaning over the bed to the nightstand, and finding her number. it had been months, maybe even a year now, since they had spoken. but in her sleep deprivation, she only wanted to know that she was safe.  it rang.

[glorypast]

LORE! LORE! LORE!

Send “lore” and I’ll write an urban legend or ghost story about your character

The first time it happens, Morrison doesn’t think much of the whole thing. He’s shaving while he waits for the bathtub to fill, ready to plunk little Fareeha into the water with her toys once he’s done. No big deal. He loves to babysit for her on the rare occasions that he gets to see her.

Jack sets her toys on the edge of the tub, then checks on her. She’s sitting on the toilet lid, watching him shave. Over her shoulder, she’s slung a facecloth, mimicking the hand towel over his shoulder.From behind them, Morrison hears a clatter. Ever the soldier, he clenches his teeth and spins around, ready to attack whatever human or animal made the noise. There’s nothing there, however, and he puffs a little bit of laughter at the toys now floating in the water. 

“Whoops. Uncle Jack’s a klutz, huh?” He reaches over and pats Faree’s head, then returns to shaving. 

“Hey, when I do this tomorrow, you wanna practice with me?” Morrison will remove the blade, of course, and make sure she uses only lotion on her little face, but it’ll still be fun for Fareeha and an easy way to keep an eye on her. “That’s fun, right?”

“Can we now?” 

She sounds so hopeful, it actually makes Jack ache at the center of himself, but he gives her a gentle smile and shake of the head. “I’m almost done, sweetheart, and we don’t want your bath to get cold. But tomorrow, I promise. Okay?”

Fareeha shrugs amiably enough, content to be four and have a bubble bath with toys. She watches with huge, luminous brown eyes as he finishes up and washes off. Morrison gives her a thumbs up and she returns it. As she disrobes for her bath, Jack adjusts the little footstool so he can help her climb in an–

They both stop and stare, eyes wide. They look nothing alike, yet by expression, they’re almost indistinguishable. It’s Jack who speaks first, looking down at the little one before looking back at the toys. He knows better, knows, but that doesn’t stop him from asking, “You didn’t do that, right?”

She shakes her head, then reaches up and takes his hand.

“Not me, Papa. Scotty.”

Morrison blinks and shakes his head in return, not understanding. By instinct, he picks her up and holds her close to him, not trusting anything when there’s some sort of invisible danger lurking. 

The room seems no different, no matter how hard he strains to feel the disturbance and after a moment, he exchanges another look with Fareeha. Muscles tense, as if preparing for a horror flick jump scare, then he reaches out forcibly knocks the toys back into the tub and…

…

…

Nothing. Nothing happens. 

Morrison turns with a grunt and starts to set Fareeha down again. Talk about anti-climactic.  

“Uncle Jack’s gettin’ jump– “

Thwack!

Jack spins around again, hands ready to rip apart anything that suggests danger. There’s a large wet spot on the back of his head from where the toy struck him, still dripping with warm water from the tub. 

“Ghost with a sense of humor,” he mutters, pulling Fareeha close again. “Or a bad temper. Great. Just great.”  The soldier looks at her, searching her little face. “You feel okay if I put you in the tub? I’ll sit right here so you stay safe. Then we can find your mom, okay?”

[ironcladsquire]

wings-of-justice replied to your post: ��- someone they wouldn’t mind kissing

“I did not send this ask, but I do appreciate your honesty. Didn’t think you’d think of me that way, Brigitte.”

“Well, I...didn’t think you’d be finding out like this.  I guess we’re both kind of surprised, huh?”  Of course, as far as she could tell, Brigitte was the only one of them who was embarrassed about the whole deal.  Hopefully that would pass in time- as would the rosy complexion she currently bore.

[gamfcowboy-archived]

Technically Fareeha would be ‘touching herself’ if she did her hair, smoothed her clothes, applied sunscreen for the beach…. *is the picture of innocence*

Now look here.

I person needs t’know their own junk. I don’t care if yer male, female or undecided, y’gotta know what ya got.

So yeah, she would be, an’ god help me fer sayin’ this, but she needs t’ handle herself proper so she knows when someone does it wrong.

Someone told me that shit once, an’ it saved me a lot of pain when I met someone wasn’t as interested in my wellbein’ as I thought they were. It ain’t jus’ fer shits’n giggles, alright? It’s somethin’ everydamnbody needs t’do.

[embrace-tranquility]

"So, Zenny, what's it like dating a Shimada? Would you recommend it to m-- I mean, to others?"

Oh he has an idea what she means. Pharah, sweet girl, you forget that Zenyatta can read body language, and auras. And if Pharah’s aura has anything to say, she is definitely asking it for herself, but he decides to humor her.

“Dating a Shimada hm..” he says, rubbing his chin, appearing to be in deep thought. “Well, since I am currently dating Genji, I assume you mean Hanzo. Using their last name is a broad term, seeing as both brothers are vastly different, yet have some things in common.”

“They are both as stubborn as mules, though.” he adds with a snicker.

“What it is like dating Genji? It is wonderful. Genji is kind and funny, a bit of a dork, but aren’t I? He is very caring, remembers what I like and what I do not like, he is very thorough, and also a tad protective, but in an endearing way. Genji means the world to me, and I wouldn’t have him in any other way. His good habits and bad habits, they are all a part of him, and thats why I love him, for who he is.”

“Hanzo is…a tad different than Genji. He’s calm and calculated, where Genji is impuslive and head-on. He might seem annoyed or irritated, but he has a gentle soul. I think he has build up barriers around himself to protect himself from others, or to protect others from hurting, but once you get through that, you will have a very caring, strong and protective lover.”

“Do I get an invitation to the wedding of you two?” he asks, a sly tone to his voice.

[jessemccowbae]

@wings-of-justice

Christamighty, this day.

There hadn’t been any one particular stressful part of it, but it had been hectic since Jesse woke up. Early briefings, getting together with Lena and Lucio to finish a post-mission report that was far overdue, a training session with Genji that had quickly turned into a sparring match and then a grudge battle. That had lasted until dinner, and when Winston had asked for help cleaning out one of the older storage rooms, he’d seen Reinhardt wince slightly, and quickly volunteered himself. Most of his non-mission days on base since the recall had been pretty relaxed, but this one had damn near worn him out.

It was still a bit early to turn in, though, and he hadn’t had a smoke in days. He was doing a lot less of it lately, between politeness to the people around him and Angie’s constant disapproving glares every time she saw him with one, so wrapping up a busy day with a cigarillo and a drink sounded like a fantastic plan.

So it was that he headed to the Watchpoint roof just as the sun was going down, taking a deep breath of sea air and chasing it with a sip of bourbon. In the fading light, it took him a moment to realize someone had beaten him to the idea. Jesse broke into a soft grin as he stepped outside. “Well now, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a dump like this?”