#c4lvarysl0ve

[mcreheros]

[ @c4lvarysl0ve started fallowing the boys ]

Brian mumbled. How does he and Timmy always get into this situation. This time, he hid his brother from gunfire and was more proactive in protecting his sibling. Holding his arms around the younger boy, hood down to try to hide himself and his sibling. Acting as a willing shield for his sibling.

He looked up and saw a farmiliar streak of light, and his eyes lit up. It couldn’t be? It was! Her! Tracer! In the flesh! 

“Timmy.” he said in a hushed tone. This time around, Timmy knew he was in actual danger. They weren’t at the Overwatch Museum. This was real life, and even Timmy knew it. “Look who it is.” 

Timmy looked up, and his gap toothed smile widened as his whole face lit up with a look of hope and excitement. “HEY! IT’S-”

“Shh” Brian whispered, covering his brother’s mouth and forcing his sibling to once again take cover. “Stay out of the way, Timmy.” 

Timmy giggled a little, and even Brian felt a sense of safety and relief, as their idol was once again here. Nothing could hurt them. She was here!

[trxnquilite-blog]

@c4lvarysl0ve​ ◌ continued from (x)

It was as though Tracer had grown suction cups, clinging to Zenyatta without any signs of coming unstuck.      ‘Good morning.’ He wondered if it was proper etiquette to continue the hug until the other person let go. Wouldn’t that be strange, though? Then neither person would ever stop clinging to each other.      If this was what she wanted then Zenyatta wasn’t going to let go.      ‘Do you require more sleep?’ he asked. ‘Or perhaps you need caffeine.’ Coffee was popular amongst people, particularly those that were sleep deprived. But Tracer wouldn’t be getting any if she went back to sleep.

[eremitical-engineering]

@c4lvarysl0ve | Continued from here

It wasn’t that bad? Sure, maybe it wasn’t completely fatal, but it still hurt like hell. “Excuse me for not being able to go back in time where I didn’t have the bullet in me,” he replies, following her with a rather disgruntled look on his face.

“And I expect to at least have my gear washed for me when I get back. Blood doesn’t come out easily.” That was certainly a trivial thing when put into perspective, so he figured it should be a reasonable request.

[solitcire-blog]

      Another day, another jam-packed schedule.

      Amélie always started her morning off earlier than she should have, probably due to the fact that she didn’t necessarily sleep much in the first place, but she felt that starting early always helped her. When it came down to a routine, she always showered, ate something small and then did her morning stretches to prepare herself for the several hours of ballet practice.

      By the time she left practice, it was nearly dinner time and she was already tired. Since the main role for the upcoming recital had yet to be picked, Amélie had to make sure that she was the one chosen for the position, and not anyone else. But, with her pushing herself as hard as she did, she felt exhausted and in no mood to be cooking that night. Unfortunately, none of the restaurant spaces looked promising, and in defeat Amélie decided it best just to head home and eat something small that didn’t require cooking.

      Instead of taking her normal route, she opted for a shortcut through an alleyway that could lead back to her apartment faster. It was dark, and her footsteps quickened, but she didn’t see a pair of legs on the ground that she happened to trip over without realizing. Falling to the ground with somewhat of a yelp, she quickly looked behind her to spot the woman just sitting there.

      “Wh-- What are you doing there??” She questions, all while scooping her bag off of the ground and dusting it off rather aggressively until she realized she must have dropped it in a puddle. “Ugh, now my bag is disgusting.” Quickly looking at the other, she scowls. Just what was she doing sitting in this dark alleyway?

      Regardless, she sighs, attempting to be as nice as possible considering she just tripped over a person in an alley of all places. “Sorry, but not many people just sit on the ground in the dark like this.”

                                     Closed Modern AU starter for @c4lvarysl0ve

[trxnquilite-blog]

@c4lvarysl0ve ◌ continued from (x)

     Shamefully, Zenyatta had been watching Tracer for a large portion of those five minutes. In the beginning he had considered intervening, but didn’t want to take away the feeling of self-gratification when she finally opened the jar by herself.      Or at least that’s what he told himself. He wouldn’t admit that the struggle had been a little fascinating.      Zenyatta reached for the jar, taking it only when Tracer allowed, and grasped the lid.      And without much effort at all, the lid opened with a pop.      He handed the bottle back to Tracer, complete with lid. ‘Enjoy.’

[trxnquilite-blog]

$ { ok but this one could actually be funny } - @c4lvarysl0ve

texts from zen ◌ selective ◌ @c4lvarysl0ve

$ - accidental text

[Lena] ▯▯▯▯▯▯

(It appears that whatever he’s sent cannot be read by phones.)

[trxnquilite-blog]

“i ruined everything...” - @c4vlarysl0ve

three words ◌ accepting ◌ @c4lvarysl0ve

     ‘It is easy to see it that way.’ While the words may have sounded pessimistic in any other tone, Zenyatta sounded quite optimistic, his voice unwavering from its usual calmness. ‘But you should view it as having created a different experience than the one that was expected. Make the most of what has happened, but be sure to reflect on and learn from your mistakes.’

[trxnquilite-blog]

@c4lvarysl0ve ◌ continued from (x)

     He hadn’t expected this.      Zenyatta was, he believed, within his right to be annoyed at Lena’s actions. If you interrupted somebody from doing something important they would be, in his experience, angry at the interruption. Luckily Zenyatta didn’t have any kind of an angry streak inside of him, so the warning was about as much as he could give Lena.      He made a noise that was reminiscent of a sigh before coming to his feet. The monk walked to Lena, whose mood had changed in little less than an instant. He put his arms around her - softly, comforting - before speaking gently.      ‘Do not apologise. I would simply prefer that you wait until I am not meditating to approach me.’