#asks: jack

[blindsoldier]

“knock knock” and uhhhhhhhhhHHH FUCK M E UP W JACK MOrrison unless nah

Send “knock knock” and my muse will answer the door in their underwear.

A rhythmic, musical tapping snaps Morrison out of sleep, heartrate kicking up a notch as he fumbles to drag himself out of bed, tripping over the boots he’d discarded the previous night in the process. Being back around Overwatch, or what’s left of it, has him constantly on edge - things are still… tense between its former members, and Jack’s constantly waiting for the next disaster, the next attack. He can only assume the knocking is an emergency, and yanks the door open with a grunt.

“Lúcio? Is that you?” Jack stares at him, squinting. He’s close enough to recognise him by height alone, or at least make a confident guess. It occurs to Jack that he’s still in boxers, and he’s too tired (Hell, too old) to be embarrassed about it, because he’s still expecting an emergency-

“S’goin’ on?”

[blindsoldier]

-blinks into the room to hug her grumpy superior- (speedinginreverse for either Jack or Gabe)

@speedinginreverse

There’s a flash of blue, then Jack grunts in surprise when he’s abruptly clung to by Overwatch’s newest recruit. It’s downtime, off-duty, and most of the core team are lounging around in the recreation rooms, but Jack can’t help still feeling–responsible, like he can never quite drop the Strike Commander role for a few hours.

It’s not that he’s never been hugged before - it’s just that he’s never been particularly good at knowing what to do about it. Jack turns red, patting Lena on the back in return. “Okay, okay,” he mutters, in a tone of that’s enough.

[blindsoldier]

Would Morrison like a hug?? *opens arms*

jack’s ability to express affection physically pretty much starts and ends at “clapping someone on the back in a friendly greeting” because he has the expressive capacity of a rusty hinge

(but also SDKFJ YOU’RE FREE TO HUG HIM he’s just not prone to asking for affection himself!)

(also non-rp blogs pls no r/b!)

[blindsoldier]

‘ your hatred has a body count & we will not forget. ’ // hmmm ovw agents sure did kill a lot of Omnics

“Yeah,” says Jack, quietly. “Yeah, I know.”

He doesn’t like to think about it. The first omnic crisis was hell on Earth, and Jack doesn’t go back there in his mind if he can help it. But generational memory is a thing; he knows that better than most, the fear and pain and anger of knowing - of feeling - the slaughter of your ancestors.

“We thought we were doing the right thing, at the time,” he says, and then pauses, shakes his head in disgust. There’s a bitterness in his voice (more than usual). “Nah. Nah, we–we really fucking didn’t. But we did it anyway.” Jack runs a hand over the lower half of his visor, sighs through the mask.

“How do you…” He cuts off, dismisses that thought. “We weren’t the only ones committing atrocities, Zen.”

[blindsoldier]

"Are you still thinking about them?" // @ 76

Soldier takes a drag from his cigarette, stares out at the blurry city of stone buildings that lies at the bottom of the hill, a few late-night stragglers covering their heads from the rain as they pass, illuminated by the occasional street lamp. Jack can’t see them, the visor lying just within arm’s reach, but he can imagine them there, all the same.

Up here, at the top of the hill, it’s a little quieter. Stars burn brightly overhead, and Jack catches himself looking up towards them sometimes, trying to glimpse a speck of light like he used to, like if he catches them off-guard, they’ll appear for him.

“Hard not to,” he says, eventually. “He shot me.”

He takes another drag.

“He could’ve killed me before my friend had a chance to stop him.”

Those things will kill you.

“But here I am.”

He sighs smoke through his nose, glances to the side at his omnic friend, at the blurry, featureless face. It’s somehow comforting, and Zenyatta never pushes him. Jack doesn’t know how he can ever repay that.

“Don’t you get tired, Zen? Of…” The corner his mouth twitches up, a little wryly. “Of everything?”

[blindsoldier]

“I love cuddling with you first thing in the morning.” (For Jack)

How this became a routine on their days off, he doesn’t know. Jack’s arm is draped lazily around Angela’s shoulders, holo-TV remote hanging loosely from his hand while the other is busy spooning cereal into his mouth while he prays the bowl doesn’t tip out of his lap. 

“Me too, Ange.” 

Which is true enough. It’s nice - a kind of closeness he doesn’t usually permit himself with people, even if it’s not… necessarily wise, given that they have to work together, and Jack has to just hope neither of them ever cross any lines.

“I might get called in,” he admits, after a while. “You know how busy it’s been.”

[blindsoldier]

“If you want to ruin your life, be my guest, but leave me out of it.” (Jack)

He exhales sharply through his nose, rubbing at his temples. The stress is getting to him - to all of them. Overwatch is being hit with sanctions left and right, there are constant arguments and in-fighting, Reyes is getting more and more secretive and playing fast and loose with the rules- Jack barely knows which direction is up anymore. As a result, he’s been doing what he does best: pushing everyone away, and inadvertently treating them like shit when they try to get close again. It didn’t take long for Angela to notice.

She’s not the first to call him out, and he doubts she’ll be the last.

For a long time, there’s silence. Just Jack at his desk, fighting off a migraine, and Angela opposite him looking hurt and furious. He doesn’t look up at her.

“Just… Close the door on your way out, Ziegler.”

[blindsoldier]

[ 📲 • sms ] —— you take forever and a day to reply. - redeemon

TEXT MEME.

[TEXT: KID] This might surprise u but I’m busy.[TEXT: KID] Please text people ur own age. - Jack