ＮＯ ＧＬＯＲＹ

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

your soldier inspired me to make this blog tbh its great to see you back!!!

HAHAA.A....a.a..... i answer this.... nearly a month later kjfdhg fuck i’m so sorry BUT I’M GETTING THERE. I’m just??? so fucking busy lately. if i’m not doing something derby related, i’m working and when i’m not working i’m at the gym and when i’m not at the gym i’m doing roller derby and it’s just a constant cycle

btu.. DKJFH I’M GLAD YOU MADE HER THO 

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

wraithreborn:

they watch jack contain the fire in body that already got burned. what’s the point– they should just finish this. reaper talked about waiting, about a game of cat and mouse, but in this moment their teeth feel especially sharp, throat especially HUNGRY. smoke and fire, they were meant to suffocate each other. and they should just get it over with.

reaper, says jack and they feel their jaws grind against each other. a lowered hand, anything to pacify them. because that’s what they are now, a wraith that has to be reasoned with. just fucking listen. they don’t want to. they want to sink claws in his chest, pierce skin, watch blood ooze out and PULL DOWN, ripping out ribbons of skin and muscle. dig deep into jack, find out where he buried gabriel reyes and pull him FREE, let him finally die. reaper wants to lunge, wants to bite and maim– because that’s that they are now. a creature of worst instincts ( only those survive death ). 

but then jack continues. and they blink, losing some of their jagged contours–

❛ bullshit — ❜ their jaws part and a cloud of ink bursts out of them, obscuring their features. ❛ who the fuck would go after overwatch’s intel, you had the best security in the world– ❜ except, a voice in reaper’s head causes him to pause, except someone has. it happened before. blackwatch, a custom-made coffin for all of their aspiration. robbed-exposed-buried– !!

they freeze, their tongue presses against their jaw and slide alongside teeth in a frantic brush. no, it has to be jack. otherwise– everything loses sense, including their will to just stay alive despite being nothing but dust someone has pressured into a human shape. this has to be jack covering his ass. ❛ you’re lying, trying to buy time– ❜

       ❛ — for WHAT ?? ❜ 

what do dead men need time for ?? the clock’s stopped ticking for them, and it rang with the shock wave of a blast. he isn’t nihilistic by any means. there’s still a reason jack’s been sifting through dusty, cob-web covered bases that haven’t seen flesh and blood for years. there’s a fucking reason he’s got SOMETHING chewing in the back of his mind, planting what-if’s and maybe’s. they’re festering, and he can’t reach to ITCH THEM. 

but he’s close. he’s so close. 

he shakes his head, once, quick. maybe jack has finally went insane after all these years. after all, he’s trying to reason with a man — no, not a man, an echo of one, the empty shell that got gutted — who wants nothing more than to make use of his empty grave. ❛ it wasn’t me. ❜ hopefully if he repeats it enough it’ll STICK. 

then jack angles his jaw higher and squares his shoulders. if reaper’s the empty shell then jack’s the messy insides that got SMEARED across the walls. a rough painting of a soldier who hasn’t quite realized that the battle’s been over with. ❛ i’m not going to beg you to trust me, but you came here, reaper. i didn’t force you. you found me out. ❜ he looks around, takes in their surroundings. a shitty room in a shitty apartment complex in a shitty city. ❛ you had a reason. ❜

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

wraithreborn:

funny thing about switzerland– no matter how hard reaper tries to remember, tries to strain their burned memories –they can’t remember how they died. it probably means it was instantaneous. maybe a merciful head trauma sent from the shattering ceiling, ruined anesthesia and shocking pain. or maybe they tried to run, while they still had flesh glued to their broken bones, but choked on smoke ( heh ) and collapsed to burn. they don’t know, don’t remember. but they did die– and foolishly left a body behind, free to DESECRATE.

maybe that’s the real complaint they have. that jack didn’t kill them good enough.

their chest keeps raising up and down, a mimicry of ventilation. wisps of smoke slither between uneven fangs, wafting upwards and away from their rage. a wave of blinks ripples through the blurred curls of ink, talons click. they’re ready. they give morrison one more WRONG word to say and then, they lunge. fuck the exhaustion that’s gnawing at them, hollowing them out. it won’t even slow them down.

❛ not getting WHAT? that you completely lost it during the last days? ❜ all of them had. but nobody shattered more than gabriel had. fell so hard from his shadows that he turned into ash the second he touched the ground. ❛ i’m not fucking stupid morrison– plant the charges, blow up HQ, blame it on me, sell them some teary speech about rebuilding from ashes and coming back stronger than ever– some grunts died, but that’s an acceptable loss, right ?? i was an acceptable loss, no, a fucking necessary loss– !! ❜

paranoid, they suddenly think. but without that sense of injustice attached to their death– what would even be the point of it? ( worse– what would be the point of SURVIVING IT? )   

         ❛ oh, what a load of BULLSHIT — ❜ he tastes venom, or bile. something acidic in the back of his throat that’s eating through what’s left.  ❛ it’d make sense if YOU did it. ever since i got that goddamn promotion — that was more than enough motive for you. blame my ‘incompetence’, preach that you’d do better, that they should have trusted you with overwatch in the first place and not some ‘over-glorified poster-boy’. ❜

it’s — startling how bad he wants to strike out at reaper. slam a fist through those disfigured teeth, knock them down their throat, make them BACK OFF. but it’s just smoke, and jack thinks seeing his hand cut through without any damage would only ignite this corrosive ember he’s got burning in his belly. he needs it DOWSED. 

the finger jammed at reaper curls and pockets into a fist, the gloves creaking at the knuckles. he won’t do it. he won’t be first one to throw a hit right now. no matter how much it’s HURTING him to bite his tongue, and stay in place. ❛ reaper — ❜ jack’s hand lowers. he takes a moment to realize that even mentioning the days before the fall he still pictures REAPER. not gabriel. not reyes. but reaper. and then wonders if they’ve been reaper all along; not physically, what’s in front of him now is a churning mess of WRONG, red eyes flaming with anger, but in essence. if what reaper became wasn’t because of some mistake, but an inevitability.  ❛ just fucking LISTEN. ❜ he wishes he could just pry open reaper’s skull and shove some SENSE down into it.

❛ there were files, wiped hard-drives. someone needed information from SWISS, and needed a cover. the blast ?? us being there ?? it was killing two birds with one stone. it. wasn’t. ME. ❜

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

morrison raising his eyebrow after doing his one arm push ups lms if u agree

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

jack’s lookin stressed asf and it’s D E L I C I O U S

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

swiftbreak replied to your post “goddamn shimadas”

[ g.enji voice ] i learned that from my brother

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

goddamn shimadas

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

whats with the shamada’s and their inability to keep one tiddy covered

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

wraithreborn:

and then it happens– vitriol boils underneath the surface of smoke, fluid-filled mounds raise in their elongated face ( too dangerously animalistic, but it makes sense– their long jaws have to accommodate all of their sharp teeth ). cancerous bumps keep growing until the inky skin can’t contain them any longer, can’t stretch any further. shadows POP with black slobber and pure redness of their eyes peeks through. they snarl at the sudden intrusions, blooming all over their face ( and lower– and inside them ). newborn eyes BLINK, they scatter their gazes in every direction possible, chase away the remaining ink– and then they find jack and turn into hate-framed SLITS. 

❛ you don’t know what happened to me, don’t talk like you do. ❜ low voice, words stitched together by inhuman growls. jack morrison does it again. strolls into their space, stomps all over it, sticks his flag in it and tries to tell them what really happened. everything they went through– it doesn’t matter. if jack morrison wasn’t there to witness it– then it doesn’t matter. 

he knows nothing about the days reaper lost because their mind got swallowed by the many maws. and he’ll never know. but that doesn’t mean he gets to talk like this. doesn’t mean he gets to be the invader AGAIN, taking parts of them and malforming them to fit his own narrative.

❛ logical? no. but since when was any of this logical ?? ❜ voice getting higher. they lower their head. jack is already inching his fingers towards the pistol, he knows the signs. ❛ was it logical to fucking blow me up? i had a busted knee– ❜ smoke is billowing from their mouth now. they hear the flames snap like twigs. their last moments in sizzling flesh, sticking to them like ash. they can still smell it, can still hear the thundercloud opening above them and bringing down the roof on them. ❛ –i wasn’t fucking going anywhere. you could have taken me in but you did– THAT instead. SO DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT LOGICAL– !! ❜

tired? not anymore. just burning.

❛ I WAS THERE — ❜ tasted the heat, felt it tear through his sinuses and eat a hole through his chest. he remembers coughing up faded embers, so confused, so fucking disoriented, unable to figure out which way was up or down because everything was black and his ears were ringing, BLEEDING, oozing ruptured mess down his neck. no fear, just shock. then years of training told him if he stayed he’d be in the boat as gabriel — oh, fuck. gabriel. can’t hear them. can only hear the muffled crackle of new flames being born, spreading through the grounds. greedy, so hungry. is he dead ?? he’s dead. he has to be. no way he could have survived that ( then why was jack BREATHING — )

exhale. jack’s anger doesn’t feel... as easily containable right now. and he doesn’t WANT to contain it. he wants to rip off the scab and let it flow freely like a puss filled wound. they can’t talk like normal people. they see a problem and break it further and call it FIXED. he wets his thin lips, and feeling the scars — the DAMAGE there — there’s ice in his veins. 

he’s up from his chair.

            ❛ you think i wanted to KILL YOU ?? i couldn’t stand being around you, but you think that i hated you enough to blow that base up ?? kill you, me, and everyone left INSIDE IT ?? ❜ burning bodies, sour-pig stench of cooked corpses. this is getting out of hand, decades old tension is finally spilling over; jack forces his grip to loosen on the gun to jab a finger in reaper’s direction ( and the look he gets, he almost expect reaper to take a SNAP at it ).

❛ you are so focused on me that you’re not GETTING IT. ❜

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

wraithreborn:

there’s a snarl somewhere behind their teeth, entangled with their tongue. it’s buzzing, rattling against the tired smoke but they don’t let it leave their throat. all they do is watch the soldier with their lack of eyes.

just for a second, they try to be like him. blind. but it doesn’t work.

❛ you just don’t fucking get it, huh. ❜ they reply with a flat question, their talons click through air in a kneading motion. ❛ and it’s always up to me to spell shit out to you. ❜

jack wasn’t there when gabriel woke up after death, chunks of flesh and smoke dripping out of his gasping mouth. he wasn’t there when he kept spitting out his old life to make space for growing maws and distorted eyes. wasn’t there when his mind snapped ( like a lightbulb thrown at the wall ). wasn’t there when talon decided it’s time to wake him up and reintroduce him to human responsibilities. but he was there when world declared gabriel reyes a terrorist. and he did nothing. reaper doesn’t blame him for talon, but they do DESPISE him for thinking that they apparently had any other options. 

❛ i died as a fucking terrorist. ❜ a special brand of anger, quiet and slobbering with exhaustion. like stretched out talons that are too heavy to swipe ( but they linger ). ❛ joining a terrorist organization was the next logical step. ❜ 

he wants to laugh. he wants to snatch off the visor and laugh in reaper’s face until his gut cramps up. ❛ what a SMART MOVE. ❜ reaper’s the physical embodiment of sickly sweet sarcasm, but jack’s voice drips with it now. it falls to the floors between them like a wet, weighted smack. ❛ you wake up and think ‘huh, guess it’s time to prove everyone right’, yeah ?? real smart. ❜

how long is it going to be before verbal insults switch to physical blows ?? at this rate, he knows someone is going to snap. it’s inevitable. they take something that could have been nice, or companionable, and hook their rotten fingers into it and rip it to fucking shreds. they are SO DETERMINED to make sure the other doesn’t have an inkling of something good that they fail to realize that the damage goes both ways. they’re both damned, he knows it. people don’t just come back from... that, and expect shit to be better than it used to be. they ruined their first chance, so why the hell would ANYONE expect him or reaper to fix it with their second go around ??

no, their second chance is just seeing how miserable they could make the other.

          jack leans forward, lets the visor eat up the sigh. ❛ don’t know why i bother at this point. ❜ running, digging, hunting down pointless information for an incident that everyone’s forgotten by now. stupid.  ❛ wanna stay talon’s attack dog ?? fine. wanna keep me alive for some sick fantasy of yours ?? fine. but don’t tell me any of this is logical, reaper. ❜

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

assuredofthis:

        ❝ i’m not gonna apologize for caring. ❞ maybe it is bad for his heart. maybe it makes him a less good officer, because he’s willing to ignore orders if they seem to be pointlessly risking the lives of his men for nothing. incompetent leaders killing their men for medals? nate cares enough to stop that. and yeah, he wants his men to like him, he wants them to realize he sees them as people, instead of quietly mutinying, as even nate did against the captain. maybe it bleeds into his chest, but nate wouldn’t change his compassionate heart.

        his fingers curl around his mug, heat travelling through him, a faint echo of the desert.  ❝ i brought all my men home. ❞ it’s a fact, but there’s pride painted on the underside of those words that he can’t wipe out; his men, his family are alive.  ❝ you know dave mcgraw? his platoon sustained heavier casualties. but, well— ❞ they don’t call him captain america for nothing; leadership is what gets men hurt, at the end of the day. it’s war, it’s unavoidable. but they do what they can.

❛ had to be paid some way. ❜ and he means the TOLL. if you keep taking something, eventually the war, the fight, IT TAKES BACK. life for a life, eye for an eye. jack’s gracious for his blindness. his fingers have run over the mangled knots of scars stretching over his face enough times to paint him a solid picture, and he doesn’t like what he sees. 

why he stays holed up like some goddamn hobbit now. it’s disgraceful, what he’s doing with himself, but there isn’t another option. the mere THOUGHT of having a strangers eyes on him, or being fucking THANKED, is enough to drive him mad.

         ❛ so, what’s this all mean for you ?? ❜ the cup clicks down on the table a little too loudly — misjudged the distance. his garbage is full of shattered mugs just for this reason, and jack spans his fingers around the bottom of the cup, testing for any drooling wetness of a cracked base. ❛ the question everyone hates but gets asked anyways: plan on going back out or are you officially done ?? ❜ he tips his head, angling his good ear towards nate. ❛ not a lot of good men left, you know. SMART men. they’re going to need more like you. ❜

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

// -lays down in your inbox with a dreamy sigh- your writing is so beautiful and articulate. i love your style; it makes me so incredibly happy to read it on my dash! have a wonderful day, you lovely individual!

AA?aAA/A???aAA/aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa this is..... RLLY RLLY SWEET AND NICE AND AAAAAAA??????/ bro you got me all flustered this night omg thank you so much??

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

I WILL BEAT U WITH A SHAMWOW BC IT IS AN INFOMERCIAL. UR GOLD IS A LIE

IF SHAMWOW IS AN INFORMERCIAL IT IS THE GOD TIER OF INFOMERCIALS

IT HAS SINGLE HANDEDLY SET THE BAR SO HIGH AS FAR ARE INFOMERCIALS GO

SO GO AHEAD AND BEAT MY ASS WITH ONE. JUST KNOW THAT ANY MESS YOU LEAVE WILL BE CLEANED EFFICIENTLY AND QUICKLY, LEAVING NO SPOT OR RESIDUE BEHIND

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

memoryserved:

No begrudging okay. No grumbled no, thank you. Not even a kindly go fuck yourself if he was really feeling so sideways. What would Jack even do if they told him to get out? He probably doesn’t know, either. He’s not prepared for that reception. Gabriel is here, so Jack is here, and Jack would still be here whether they’d invited him to stay or not.

There’s no shade of affable grumpiness to his silence. It’s cold and dominantly empty. It’s unresponsive. They aren’t worth replying to. Jack knows what his plan is and Kennedy’s not getting a say in the matter. They’re just in this room, too.

   “They broke my phone.” Something bitter says he’s just like Gabriel and it must be like a goddamn echo chamber when they’re in a room together – but he’s not. Not anymore. It’s been a year and maybe that’s done something for the better to Gabriel, who goes quiet sometimes but doesn’t make them feel like this. “Borrowed it to call in a pickup, but – talons, you know. The screen’s still cracked.” Gabriel likes coming here. To them. “How do you know them?”

he starts walking, feeling out the dusty corners of the room. it isn’t meant to make kennedy feel like they’re being sized up in any way, or that he’s circling them with malignant tendencies just hovering at the edges — jack just doesn’t feel comfortable enough to sit, and he doesn’t feel stable enough to stay rooted to a single spot. 

❛ sounds — ❜ domestic. normal. jack tries to mentally connect the idea of reaper fumbling with a phone but it’s not sticking, it falls through. if anything, it just solidifies the fact he knows GABRIEL better than he knows REAPER ( but they’re one in the same, aren’t they ?? ) ❛ nice. ❜ he tips his head, the visor’s glare spanning away from the window when he steps past it. he knows how bright it can be at night, and he doesn’t need to act like a BEACON for whoever’s out there still looking for them. both of reaper’s sake AND for kennedy’s. 

❛ an old colleague. ❜ friend doesn’t feel right. not right now, at least. ❛ mutual interests, i guess. we both had the same goal in mind so it just made sense to stick together. ❜ he shrugs, feeling a little lost with words. the memories he has of gabriel are sepia toned. old. full of rough treatment and discontent. there aren’t many GOOD ONES but the ones he has he wants to keep them to himself.  ❛ in a lot of ways we met how you two met, i guess. we both broke something and stuck around trying to fix it. ❜ jack pauses when he lands around his starting point, and a thought wiggles in. intrusive. paranoia in it’s softest form.

       ❛ — what do you know about gabriel ?? ❜

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

pistolslang replied to your post “nice thing to think about??? the soft red glow from jack’s visor ...”

sounds like an infomercial

his entire career is an infomercial

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

nice thing to think about??? the soft red glow from jack’s visor acting like a flashlight in the dark. jack looking over a table? it’s washed in red, the metal bouncing back the color. walking down an alleyway at night? soft red flashlight.

[weatheredsoldier-blog]

ok but jack absolutely having some facial hair under the visor?? like it’s a patchy beard, but it’s not like he’s actively growing it out. it’s closer to the whole ‘he’s busy, can’t see well/at all to even shave the shit and he doesn’t have the visor off long enough to even fucking care about it’ so. it grows. sometimes it gets uncomfortable under the mask and that’s when he just sucks it up, stands in front of the mirror. doesn’t even know why he’s there, he can’t see anything. ruined eyes aren’t helpful here, but it’s a part of routine, right?? you wouldn’t shave in the shower, you shave standing over the sink. 

so he does, and uses his hands to feel his way over his jaw and chin. tries to stretch the places where scar tissue is thicker and more disfigured so the razor won’t slice him up but it’s to the point he can’t tell what’s running down his face and neck. whether it’s water, bits of soap or shaving cream, or just blood. he can’t tell. 

and it hurts bc... i image jack was the type to really fucking care about how he looked pre-fall ?? shaved every day, made sure he was presentable and now he’s just

whats the fucking point

and i cry