#superrisu

Patient Name: Cinder Fall

Age: Enough to be a pain

Patient is to take, by oral use, one (1) penis, preferably 18 to 25 cm for continuous use.

Take once every day in the morning, and request for as many times as needed if in an insufferable mood.

Arthur Watts

Cinder: ...Did you just tell me to suck a dick with a prescription?

@superrisu​

OC Appreciation~

Gisha - @theplasmablade

Blanche - @issyscribbles

Name: Risu (Vivian)  City of Origin: London, United Kingdom.  Are you producing art or fic for the FemWatch Zine?  Art. If you’re an artist, what program(s) do you use?  Adobe Photoshop CS6, Paint tool Sai 2.  Who are your favourite artists/authors? Who is your inspiration?  There are way too many I love, but from the top of my head: Gurigom, Suqling, and Bampshi. I have a ton to learn from these guys! How do you deal with art/writing block?  I go onto art websites and just look through a ton of art! Or otherwise go and check out what my favourite artists are up to.

If you could make one ship canon, what would it be?  Pharmercy of course. (Gross sobbing) I just...love them so much. Who do you main in Overwatch?  Pharah, I love rocket launchers to bits. Do you do commissions?  Yes. http://superrisu.tumblr.com/tagged/commission+info Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/superrisu Social Media: https://twitter.com/SuperRisu and http://superrisu.tumblr.com/ Remember to be kind to yourself and others!

Notes: I felt that I owed ya this after months of silence. Exams still going on, wish me luck. :D Please tell me if there is anything you wish to change, or if I should just stop here when it comes to this series. 

I hope you enjoy.

The moon was bright with life that night.

Angela didn’t know what made her wake. If it was the movement of sheets, lacking warmth she was used to surround her. Not picking up the sound of gentle breathing tingling softly against the shell of her ears. It could have been the new, lingering scent of tobacco, now buried in the walls. Tilting her head around, she realized her bodyguard wasn’t by her side.

There she was. By the window.

She was already dressed. Impeccably so. Too impeccable. 

She was wearing boots indoors. Sleek, black suspenders contrasted nicely against ivory. They were angled slightly towards the waist, following the curves of Fareeha’s body in a flattering manner. White pinstripe trousers matched perfectly with a heavy, well-fitting shirt and a pearl white watch. Only the collar was loose, three buttons removed. Angela stayed a little quiet, drowsy eyes upturned towards the Egyptian, to observe a little more.

Her chest raised and fell in close succession. Her stare lost towards the skies.

A tremor found its way towards another cigarette.

If there was any fire, Fareeha made no sound.

When a burnt match was placed on top of an ashtray, she stirred.

A glint of moonlight shone upon Fareeha’s back, her posture no longer ridged.

“Angela?”

Pretending to be roused by the sound of the match, Angela blinked, letting long fair locks slide off her shoulders. Whatever was haunting Fareeha returned, though she tried hiding anxiety through a smile. “Did I wake you up? And here I tried my best not to…”

A shadow at a distance found Fareeha, striking her down.

Yet, she smiled.

And Angela was beaten.

She needs comfort.

A nagging voice tapped into her head, ignoring whatever thoughts came before.

The bed felt empty without her.

“Fareeha.”

Their eyes finally met, in a partial embrace.

“Come here.”

A flutter of a heartbeat was met with silence.

Until Fareeha switched her cigarette off, still smoke imitating the snuffed filter.

Removing the suspenders first, Fareeha’s hands went for her hips-

“Let me.”

Scarlett meeting blue, a gaze was returned with surprise. Breathing deeply, Fareeha falls against the bed, allowing Angela to remove her clothes. A gentle breeze from the open window made Fareeha shiver, having been reduced to only a laced bra and a pair of boxers. Feeling one hand on her shoulder, Fareeha immediately stiffened and looked up towards Angela, softening when she saw a hint of concern from her lover. Licking her lips, Angela gently coaxed Fareeha to approach her, wordlessly asking if she could help.

Though her face betrayed no emotion.

Letting a small smile escape her nerves, Fareeha tried to lighten the mood, warm breath whispering sweetly in her lover's ear.

"You missed a spot."

Freeing her shapely breasts by unhooking the bra, Angela was a little distracted by her guard's cheekiness, sapphires widening by an inch. Noting the fresh scar that now resided at the right side of Fareeha's shoulder, concern replaced the thought of having a taste of those soft, supple lips once more. Redirecting her mind towards inquiring about Fareeha's wellbeing before her own, the bedspread was lifted slightly.

"Wouldn't you know it, my favourite cushion..."

Laying her head gently in Angela's lap, warmth replaced the goosebumps that had grown earlier, two dark arms encircling the capomafia's waist. In turn, Mercy played with Fareeha's hair. Black velvet feeling as smooth as the chemise, satin nightgown made out of pure silk against her own body, a devilish smirk pulling her closer in tender gestures.

She could remain silent.

Fareeha did seem to be lulled back into sleep, enjoying the caresses made against her well toned back and neck.

Tomorrow would be too late...

Angela prepared to ask the hard question by turning her glance away, the moon being her only witness, uncertainty shining on her face.

"It's Ana, isn't it."

Her guard stayed in stunned silence for a moment. 

Mercy continued, despite her softer side urging to stop.

"She will be in the meeting. It is inevitable. I have to give control of the docks back to her." The only response was Angela feeling Fareeha's grip get tighter. It lessened when a few strands of hair from her tanned, sunkissed face were gently removed through calm hand movements, soft strokes contrasting against the blank face Angela looked down with. Tracing the wadjet tattoo inked around Pharah's cheek, she continued. "Not bringing you with me would be... odd. It would give many snakes an excuse to rattle."

Angela couldn't afford to look weak.

"And I need you by my side."

But she couldn't afford to have Pharah be in pain in any manner.

Eying the crux of Fareeha's neck, tempted to leave an amorous touch, Angela lamented internally she did still not have a tattooed mark representing their relationship. Fareeha had meant to make one at ‘Santa’ Torbjorn's ink parlour a week after they became lovers.

Then, Zarya showed up.

Three weeks after fearing Fareeha was lying a ditch somewhere, long dead and rusting, she had returned, much to Angela's joy. They took care of each other. Loved each other. Bickered a little, smiled together. Enjoyed the sights of each other's face. Every day, Angela learnt something new of Fareeha. Fareeha, in return, learnt many new things about Angela.

It was too good to last.

Then, who else would show up. Ana was alive.

Much to Angela's joy.

Fareeha promised she'll have the tattoo after the meeting. Angela assured, over and over, that Ana would not take her away from her.

Debt or not, she had the keys to the docks.

And to Fareeha's heart.

Pharah insisted only once. And Mercy relented.

Silence. A soft intake of breath. A pair of arms tightened the muscles, wordlessly clinging for support. Forgetting her previous thoughts, she resumed, hoping her affirming tone was soothing, rather than commanding. "But... I am here. If you need to talk."

I will listen.

When Fareeha finally brought herself to speak again, her voice was filled with pain.

"My father... died today."

Fareeha opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Mercy stayed silent, as promised. "She had to come back today." 

Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps it was disbelief. Fareeha kept a choke from escaping her mouth. "Of all days..." Swallowing words down before they met her tongue, Pharah kept trying to hold her demure emotions still, the only evidence of anger and grief swirling in her eyes.  

Another long stare was ushered by Mercy, uncaring if any emotion went through the cracks at this point.

Angela finally found Fareeha's eyes. They were glistened, brimmed with unused tears, keeping the burden all to herself.

"I'm sorry. I... I don't want to..."

Lifting a hand gently to cup her face, two sides of the angelic crime boss wanted nothing but the same thing.

"Let it all out."

Let it out.

"I'll listen."

I'm here for you.

That was all Fareeha needed to hear. A definite sob left the Egyptian, breaking through all barriers she had kept until that moment. Her grief on the inside surfaced on the outside. "She, she was alive. She, she was-was alive this whole, whole time. What the hell- what the hell did I cry to, a fu-fucking empty grave, a fucking, fucking joke...?!" Instinctively, Angela reached out, snow white hands tangled themselves into ink black hair, moving the parts of her bangs falling between her eyes. Burying her face into Angela’s gown, she cried.

She hated seeing Fareeha like this.

Mercy recalled when she mourned Ana's death, sometime after becoming her bodyguard. Those tears rolling down her cheeks beside the now known vacant tombstone were still fresh in Angela's mind. She could only observe her grief from afar, not wanting any sort of affections to be confused for pity. She took over the docks out of safety. Took Fareeha in officially as her ward.

It was too soon for her to lead the Amari empire. It was too soon...

For anything.

"Hush... hush. Let it out. Keep talking..."

"What else is there to say-?!" Fareeha froze when she noticed Angela flinching towards her tone of voice, instantly processing her lack of control.

"I'm... I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have-"

Instead of a retort, Fareeha felt herself being pulled towards the reclining of the mattress. Looking up, whatever stiffness from the previous flinching was but a forgotten memory. Gritting her teeth, Fareeha clenched her fists into the sheets, still keeping Angela close with her whole body. "She's, she's alive. Alive. I-I thought... I thought I didn't have the chance to say goodbye..." Gently keeping her warm, Angela made sure to remove all traces of tears with soothing touches, letting Fareeha hold her wrists down tightly when their foreheads met.

Afraid she would disappear, the guard clutched onto Mercy's embrace, her calm soothing the pain, the uncontrollable pain.  

Had dinner with the lovely @superrisu! Look at all the wine she needed to have to deal with me ;D