cabón

7

I am a good Zenyatta. As Zen, I have more carry potential than a lot of healers, I can save my team in a teamfight, I can take care of myself, and I can strike fear into the hearts of lesser foes.

But I can only carry so much with my tiny robot arms. And when I break the Reinhardt shield, someone else needs to be hitting the called out discorded Mercy with me, or shit will hit the fan when y’all noodles waste your ults on a target only to have it come back to life again.

literally all of these screenshots came from losses ffs

her: will u massage my feet
me: well well well , how the tables have turned, remember last nite when i asked u to put some waffles in the toaster for me ?? and what was it tht u said then ??? 
her: i was like half asleep !! remember when i took out the trash on tuesday january 10 ?? 
me: oooohhhhhhhh , remember when i did the dishes three nights in a row ?!
her: oh my gosh , i get u chocolate like every night!
me: i’ve cooked ur every meal practically !  why dont u massage my feet ! u never do that
her: oh but i scratch ur back every night 
me: that is just not true 
her: oh my god can u just like stretch my leg or something
me: THE WAFFLES

anonymous asked:

hi emery my name is Jason and someday in the near future I won't be alive anymore. I'm 18 but I've lived a long 18 years if that makes sense. I have stage 4 lymphoma and it's terminal and I'm not here for pity anything (but if you aren't why are you telling me about cancer) yeah yeah I know I just want to tell you your books and writings have had a profound effect on me. and now I'm not scared anymore. you've shown me the end doesn't have to be sad. it can be beautiful in the next life, Jason

my heart is just….all over the floor. all over. sending you so much love, jason. i’m glad you’re not afraid anymore. i hope your journey is a kind one. thank you for reaching out to me.

Hate To Love You

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Breakups, hostility between reader and Bucky, nasty words, swearing, fighting, violence, blood, injuries 

Word Count: 1087

Summary: When you and Bucky broke up you swore you were done with that life, however when Steve rings asking for your help, telling you that there was no one else he could ask you agreed to one more mission. What could wrong? 

A/N: Feedback appreciated. 

Tagging: @turnmyheaphonesuprealloud @poemwriter98


“There isn’t anybody else?”
“Sorry y/n, Wanda’s still in Sokovia and I couldn’t get Nat back on such short notice.” 
“It’s fine, not your fault Steve,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What time do we fly out?” 
“Zero six hundred tomorrow,” He replied, the sound of relief hanging in his voice. “Thanks for this y/n, I owe you.” 
“Yeah, yeah.”

I disconnected the call, feeling my shoulders slump as I leant back on the kitchen bench, already exhausted by the thought of tomorrow’s mission. It wasn’t so much the mission itself though, it would be nice to get back into doing what I’d trained for years to do, it would be nice seeing Steve again. However I was also one hundred percent sure that Bucky would also be assigned on the mission, hence why I had a blooming headache starting already.

It had been eight months since I’d last seen or spoken to him, eight months since we broke up in a fit of shouting, tears and thrown objects. It hadn’t been pleasant and as a result I’d walked straight out of the Avengers compound, fully intending to never ever go back. I had been determined back then to get out of that business completely, find an apartment in the city and go to a normal nine to five job like everybody else. However, once something was in your life it was hard to let it go, so I found myself doing odd freelancing jobs, sometimes even for Nick Fury if he asked.
I wasn’t at all surprised that he’d passed my new number onto Steve, telling him that I would be more than happy to help him out if he needed.

Pushing myself off the bench I moved to the kitchen cabinet, pulling down a glass and the bottle of whiskey I kept for occasions such as these. Uncapping the lid I poured two fingers into the glass, swallowing them down in only two mouthfuls, the amber liquid burning as it went down my throat. I looked up at the clock as I poured out a little more alcohol. Only seven hours to take off.

-

The sound of my boots on the tarmac seemed to magnify in the quiet morning, the fog still hanging low to the ground and the sun only barely peeking out in the horizon. I took a deep breath and watched as it misted out in front of me in the frigid morning air.

“Y/n!”
I spun around at the call of my name, my eyes landing on Steve, dressed up in his Captain America suit, the cap hanging off one of his wrists. He jogged the last feet between us, bringing me swiftly into his arms, lifting me up slightly off the ground.
“It’s so good to see you!” I said with a genuine smile, having only just realized how much I actually missed him. “Eight months hasn’t changed you a bit.”
He shrugged, releasing me from his grip and standing back, his eyes sweeping over my form.
“It’s changed you though,” He chuckled. “You look good y/n.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling the blush creep over my cheeks.

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