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I never posted headcanons here?? so here y’all go:

Jack Morrison was born in rural Indiana, growing up on a farm owned by his down-to-earth, typically-American parents. As a child, he was rather short-tempered, often getting himself into fights with those of opposing opinions. Even despite his rambunctious behavior, anyone who knew him would say that he was destined for greatness ( or, at the very least, something better than this small town, slow-moving life ).

At the ripe age of eighteen, just soon after his high school graduation, he enlisted in the armed forces. These early years helped to straighten his behavior out, and he was very quickly recruited into a highly-selective, top-secret government organization. This group’s sole purpose was to mold recruits into the perfect soldiers, training often running sun up to sun down. This is where he truly fell into what he would come to refer to as “the soldier mindset” --- attention on targets, guard always up. It is how he, to this day, continues to live.

Soon enough, a larger organization again picks him up; this one, code-named Overwatch, ran similar to a special task force. He worked his way up the ranks, very quickly finding himself in a leadership position. Strike Commander Jack Morrison came into existence, a man many came to admire, look up to, and, at times, truly care for.

As years went on, tensions grew higher and higher within the group. It all came to a tipping point in Switzerland, where a confrontation with long-time friend, Gabriel Reyes, ended in the supposed death of both men. Friends mourned the loss, a funeral was held --- still, though, no body was ever recovered. 

Time passed, people eventually moved on. Overwatch continued, performing in the memory of their long-time commander. All the while, he began to lead a personal renegade against the once-corrupt organization; the vigilante known as Soldier: 76 attacked bases, stole equipment, and worked in the shadows in an effort to find those who turned his company against him and bring them to justice.

Since the organization’s final fall, he has lived in a loose sort of retirement; putting the 76 alias away, he has lived solely as Jack Morrison, retired veteran, pseudo-father to his ragtag family. Only recently has he considered jumping back into doing vigilante work.

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    [txt]: I’m on my way! :D<3

    It’s pretty normal of Jack to call a meeting, he’s always been better at explaining through long winded speeches rather than text. She sons a flannel ( for the full lesbian aesthetic ) and hops onto the public transit near her apartment. What is a little unusual is Jack asking for help for anything at all, he’s never been one to need the help of others, always commanding, leading people into battle. Solitary Jack Morrison, more focused on the task at hand than himself. Lena sighs to herself, and gets off the bus by Hana’s place. It doesn’t take but a minute for her to be buzzed in and she’s knocking on the door loudly. God, she hopes that everything is alright.

    “Daaaaaddddddddddd. Anytime today would be brilliant!”

    He receives the text, but figures it isn’t vital he respond. While he waits for her to arrive, he decides to make some coffee; never mind that it’s the middle of the afternoon, and never mind that the anticipated topic included putting both their lives at risk --- there was no better way to get the energy flowing, to get the heart racing. It was how he preferred to discuss possible missions, after all ( what an echo of the past, a mirroring of jobs gone by, of objectives long passed ). When he hears her at the door, he smiles a little to himself, allowing the expression to linger as he greets her.

     “You’re impatient,” he starts, shutting the door behind her as she enters. “...coffee’s made if you want any.”

para || backdated for 4/15

[diieeasy-blog]

    Although being part of an elite secret military unit, Lena was usually not one for much conflict or violence. It only led to more disagreements, more hurt, more mess than what could’ve been achieved through peace. Her mindset didn’t stop her from participating though, and she gladly took her place in Overwatch to make the world a better place.

    Well, now that all of that was over, and everyone else seemed to settle into mercenary work, she’s been perfectly content flying jets around the world and leaving everything else alone. She’s a little surprised that her father figure is even texting her now, he loves when people leave him alone period.

    [txt]: what’s going on? i’d be happy to help!

      He knew already that she would be happy to help --- the two of them had a sort of familial bond, despite his best wishes not to, but did he really wish to involve her in his own personal drama? If he was being honest, no; this was his problem and his alone. Still, though, it was better to involve someone than to go about this sort of thing on your own ( this way, if things go sour, there’s a better chance of someone finding out --- who would know if he simply disappeared one night? Would anyone even notice? ).

       [txt]: Come by Hana’s place, I can explain it all then.

para || backdated for 4/15

[diieeasy-blog]

para || backdated for 4/15

@slipstreamsandpiloting

Days melted into weeks and into months, and time was an ever-cruel mistress; living alone in a former colleagues apartment, refusing to speak with most he considered friends — was this all that he was meant to achieve? What did an illustrious military career provide for him now? A distant lover, disappointed found families — it was all that he had to show these days, but that isn’t to say that he’s completely given up.

After thinking it over tenfold, countless hours spent overturning ideas and plans in his head, he finally came to a conclusion; what better way to make amends than to enact vengeance? He knew just the right person to assist him with this, too — the only party not biased in the situation: Tracer. He sends a brief text to his former teammate, hoping that she will accept.

[txt]: I need your help with something. I can provide details if you’re interested.

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        The change of tone is evident to him, and he takes a brief moment of pause before speaking up; sure, he was willing to defend himself accordingly, but had he himself stepped out of line? Had he crossed over a boundary he wasn’t meant to cross? These thoughts race through his mind, disappearing as quickly as they had arrived as he takes a step forward --- easy, he thinks, best not to start anything physical.

        “You know that isn’t what I meant,” the tone is defensive, of course it is, but he makes no attempt of changing this. “...I would go with you if it was someone we knew better. Hana, Sombra --- hell, even Max,” however reluctant he may be to give those examples, and he hopes to whatever fates are in play that none of them ever get married. “...but this Carolina girl? She won’t change anything.” 

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       There is a pause after that, silence filling the space between them and forcing an awkward stillness to arise; he wasn’t trying to bring out any emotions, not now --- right now, all he wanted was to be taken out of this deal to pretend to be some stranger’s family. Was that too much to ask? He didn’t imagine so, but as usual, Gabe had other ideas; to make this about himself, to make all of this just a show of his lack of family, his inability to connect with his own teammates --- god, it annoyed Jack to no end: there were people here that he could protect. Hana, Jesse, Sombra --- that was his family now. No strangers off the street, no children he blindly trusts. 

         “You already have a family,” his tone is softer now, though the annoyance is still evident. “...you don’t need to add one more. You don’t know her story, you don’t know why she doesn’t have her own family. You don’t know anything about her, Gabriel, don’t you get that? You can’t just keep bringing these kids into our lives without thinking it through first.”

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       “ --- and now isn’t the time to try to be the good guy,” he defends, knowing good and well that there would be another chance for the other man to prove himself worthy of forgiveness ( if he even wanted it --- things like these seemed only a ploy to attract more mouths to feed, and Jack knew better than to allow that to happen again ). “...you don’t know her! We’re not trying to adopt random people off the street, Gabe, you know that.”

       --- or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wanted to keep drawing in more and more, never stopping once to think of the challenges the added company would create; they spent so long caring for others --- so long forming a family of their own --- and to just allow this random stranger inside? It was a ridiculous notion to him. 

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       “You can’t just keep signing us up for these things,” he says, the disappointment obvious in his tone. How often had he spoken up about his distaste for strangers, his distrust of those outside of his comfort zone, his family --- did Gabriel not understand this? Did he not have the faintest idea that maybe Jack didn’t want to pretend to be family to someone without one? He had his own to tend to, he had no time for strangers ( much less somewhat hostile ones at that ).

        “ --- we don’t even know the girl,” he continues, trying to remain polite and calm about the matter. “ ...if this was someone we know better, then maybe this would be different.”

[diieeasy-blog]

 @doublebarrelshotguns

       He had given it a few days, in hopes that perhaps it would take that long for the other man to come to the expected realization ( in hopes of the world solving this problem on its own, of Gabe coming to his senses before any further action had to be taken ). Unfortunately, this hadn’t been the case, and that is why he finds himself now, going to confront his lover in one of the most tame, polite manners possible --- never mind the passive-aggression, or the restrained urge to argue, to fight, to stubbornly defend his opinion no matter what.

        “You do know that we’re not going to that girl’s wedding, right?” 

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       It wasn’t necessarily that he was busy --- ‘busy’ these days was code for ‘uninterested’ rather than preoccupied, anyway, and he wouldn’t dare claim such a term in regards to...well, whatever it was that Gabriel had become to him --- but he did release a soft sigh when the text message was received; perhaps it was the extra effort needed to move across the house, to leave the ragtag group of pets behind and to go keep the other man company through his pain, or perhaps it was the thought of the pain being more than they could handle this time ( a thought that, despite his best efforts, has crossed his mind before --- he hated to admit it, but death crept closer by the day, and their lives had to come to an end eventually ). 

       He cracked the bedroom door open slowly, the wood creaking as it gave way to a sight he has seen plenty of times before; his lover, expression pained and body stiff, lying on the bed as if awaiting a final burial ( only Gabriel wasn’t done yet, neither of them were --- it would have to be more than simple chronic pain to take them out ). 

       “Hey,” he says, as if this is a common occurrence, as if there is no pain present now. “...how’re you feeling?”  

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