WINTER SOLDIER
sorry, i haven’t been here all that much as of late! pokemon sun’s got a hold of my ass at the moment, but i’ll get back to your regularly scheduled drafts + replies soon! hope you’re all doing great :**
pink glitter
1. photosensitivity
so, i know most people who write jack morrison go with partial blindness / complete blindness for their portrayal, but i just wanted to say that i like to think of my jack with photosensitivity instead, which particularly affects his eyes. photosensitivity is an intolerance of light; while sensitive people are sometimes only bothered by bright light, any light is irritating and uncomfortable in extreme cases.
his photosensitivity happens as a permanent consequence from the events of the explosion. photosensitivity also happens to occur more frequently in lighter-eyed folks due to less pigment. my jack also suffers hearing damage in his left ear, but thanks to the super soldier experimentation, he otherwise got off scot-free. because of his photosensitivity, when he isn’t wearing the visor, he wears sunglasses at all times whether it be during a cloudy day, evening or indoors.
jack’s visor is only bright enough to be able to provide visual in darkness. he’s comfortable with the visor and often feels vulnerable without it. that being said, he wouldn’t be able to look into his own visor without some kind of protective eyewear like his sunglasses or his visor, which performs a multitude of functions aside from providing visual in dark areas and offering protection for his eyes.
❛ hard to imagine any satisfaction is felt in death. ❜ the arrow begins to spin between hanzo’s fingers again, spurred on by his contemplative thoughts. ❛ though, i would say having nine lives would help. ❜ pointedly, hanzo’s gaze drags up and follows the scar cutting over jack’s brow. it does not linger, it feels too personal, intrusive, and hanzo finds he does not have the same amount of curiosity as morrison has to ask.
hanzo returns the arrow to his quiver, and no sooner than his hands are free does he grab for Storm Bow. ❛ they do not. ❜ he neither accepts the apology nor waves it off, too caught up with inspecting his weapon for imperfections - as if morrison could have possibly ruined it for the few seconds it was held. but he does preen for the compliments — his ego is yellow with greed, and it flares with pride.
❛ tch. that is because your guns are manufactured in a pace line. no compassion goes into the weapon. ❜ he scoffs, the pad of a finger following the threads that are knotted above the slot for his hand. ❛ besides, guns are messy. archery is an art form. ❜
when he looks to morrison again, his eyes have slightly narrowed. calculating, always analyzing the odds. ❛ it is not the bow that summons them. and you are nosy. ❜
jack finds his employer curious. quiet as he listens to the head of the shimada clan talk and twirl his arrow, he is transfixed by the expert handling of the bow. he absent-mindedly nods his head in agreement and disagreement all at once. between nine lives, manufactured guns, and nosiness, jack shrugs. death isn’t difficult to cheat; he’s done it once and he’s certain he could do it again. and what greater satisfaction is there than cheating death itself?
“just because the gun’s made in by machine and the bow’s made by a master doesn’t make up for the difference in dragons,” he defends his rifle and his nosiness in one calculated breath. hanzo is just as wary of jack, he notices, with his ever-watchful gaze. “maybe i need a demonstration of the power itself in person,” he suggests, treading carefully. are the rumors true then? can the members of the shimada clan harness the power of a genuine legendary creature? jack might believe in miracles, but he sure as hell doesn’t believe in mythology.
“i would be honored if you would grace me with such a performance,” he gestures to the target practice. “would you please?”
❝ ah–, ❝ she intervened abruptly, the sharp jest that she was a medic and certainly did not take order from him regarding a gift sat on the tip of her tongue, but she let it remain just there. the scarf was taken from her and offered to him once more. ❝ it’s quite rude to give back a present, you know. keep it. it’s my job to make sure that you are perfectly healthy, after all. ❝
her response does not surprise him and jack’s lips apologetically twitch into something like a smile. being chastised makes him a little sheepish as he rubs the nape of his neck with a gloved hand. “alright, alright,” he concedes, bowing his head in defeat. “but only because you said it was a present.” he takes the scarf, thumbing the nice cashmere with care. “i still don’t feel right. what if our prized medic catches a cold?” he playfully inquires before gently throwing the scarf around the both of them. by the hand, he pulls her close so as not to strain the cashmere of the scarf. “this isn’t so bad, is it?”
【Old soldiers】“Still wanna fight? Guest you both didn’t have enough sleep last night. ”
I don’t know why i am tagging Reaper76. Really.
would you reblog / like this if you would wish to rp with an indie ana from overwatch? thanks ! i’m leo + im new to the fandom
IT was hard to talk to him. Small talk didn’t seem to be his thing and Reinhardt didn’t feel like talking much tonight. He was relieved when he received his drink and he had to stop himself from drinking all of it at once. Yes, he was tired and all he wanted was to have a drink and go to bed. If he had known that he was here, he might not have come. ❛ I think that depends on your nature. ❜ Friends were easily made if you didn’t rub them the wrong way, but some just weren’t sensitive enough for that.
He’s trying hard to stay where he is and to accept his fate, but it wasn’t easy. ❛ They’re all capable of handling themselves. Some are better than I ever was. ❜ There was no point in denying it. But perhaps it was because of all the tech and training some of them had. ❛ There’s nothing else for me to do. ❜
it hits him a little close to home. “my nature, huh?” jack muses into his glass, expression starkly neutral; all in all, it sounds like a passive-aggressive dig at jack for leaving reinhardt and all of their friends behind while jack played lone soldier, but jack doesn’t make any retorts. it’s the least of what he deserves and that’s alright with him. he knows an apology’s just not going to cut it for all of these years.
“i might be worth shit, but you’re gold, reinhardt,” he remarks, leaning back into his chair. he means it. sure, the young replace the old and that’s just how it goes, but reinhardt and jack are still here, still fighting just like the new generation. “you’re one of the best people i know. nothing about overwatch might be the same, but ...” he trails off, briefly considering how it isn’t his place to say these things; he has no right to say any of this. “our odds are better with you.”
@deathwalksamong
jack dodges a shot before taking cover behind a fallen bookcase. “if it’s of any consolation,” he calls, weaponless as he is caught unawares by the phantom, “i didn’t mean it when i asked you if you got your mask from the halloween store.” in truth, he only half-meant it and while he understands this probably isn’t a good time to goad his enemy, jack’s never been good at letting his opponent have the last word. if this is how he goes, he’s going out with guns blazing. god, this is exactly what he gets for trying to take one casual day off honestly. this is the last time he’s listening to any of those young punks that try to convince him that he’s too old to constantly be working.
rolling his eyes, jack searches for anything and everything to somehow distract his armed enemy. this bookcase can only hold his cover for so long. with curiosity, he tests the other’s fiery aim by throwing a stuffed bear into the other’s direction. boom! there goes the head, clean off. jack whistles, inappropriately impressed despite certain doom. “not bad, satan. want to try another? go long.” jack throws a stuffed giraffe next into the opposite direction before making a run for the weaponry encased in glass.
oddly convenient, but jack’s not complaining.
boner 76 reporting for duty
☁ shrug emOJI?
there’s only one umbrella when the first droplets of rain pelt the two. one umbrella, two ( and arguably a half ) men and zero places to take shelter from the swiftly coming storm. the rain only gets worse and there’s no telling when the passing storm intends to leave, but jack reaches for the umbrella before scouring the area for an appropriate stool. conveniently, there happens to be a few rocks. it’s not perfect, but it’s going to have to do.
“come here,” jack commands as he climbs atop the rock, just barely perfect to hold the tiny umbrella open for the both of them, which is frankly ridiculous because said umbrella can barely cover reinhardt’s shoulder let alone the both of them. in summary: both of them are still going to get very, very wet.
the way reinhardt looks at him makes him scowl. it’s the best he can manage. “wipe that smug grin off your face,” he huffs under his breath. “don’t make me hog the umbrella for myself, you hear?”
