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happy fathers day to the tired dad of overwatch sometimes i can still hear his voice,

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"anomalies lead to surprises."

INBOX - @chronal-anomaly

it's not lost on jack morrison that lena is the one saying this; air force pilot-turned-chronal anomaly. he withholds a sigh, studying her with a responsibile look. it isn't as if he doesn't factor in damage control in his daily schedule - but like all things in it - he likes to stay on top of them.

"is there something you're trying to tell me, oxton?"

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“ you’re working too hard. ” the statement is angela’s version of a greeting, arms folded across her chest as she leans against the doorway of the commander’s office. “ take a break, jack. it would do you some good. ”

INBOX - @valkguard

the commander takes a few more moments to finish reading over the report that's been stacked centered above the other less-organized papers scattered across the desk. he takes a pen, underlines a sentence at the bottom, then finally glances up at her. the folded arms against the doorframe are met with a smile that matches the orange glow of a setting sun, which has stretched from one end of the office to the other. it had been preferrable for him to take advantage of the warm light while he still could, considering that overhead flourescents made sitting in an office all day quite miserable.

"surely not as hard as dr. angela ziegler," jack says in teasing earnest, stacking the papers of the report together and carefully sliding it off to the side. a hand gestures invitingly to the leather chair on the other side of the desk for her to sit down, his own giving a suble creak as he straightens, hands folding on the desk.

"what's the report looking like today, doc?"

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its him

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laying here in my sleep deprivation thinking about doomed by the narrative jack morrison,,, thinkin about his dream, thinkin about how he wanted too much good for the world that it was only inevitable that it would destroy him

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Indiana

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i am still getting used to people like you. //cole

cole's a funny kid. thinks his troubled past makes him dark and mysterious and hard to figure out, the way all teenage boys do, but jack has always been perceptive; even when he wagers that he knows as much about the kid as he also doesn't, he can read the signs just fine.

jack never pushes it. he honestly doesn't even particularly care to know, either. he listens, though. he always listens whenever cole takes that risk with him.

"like me," jack repeats, leaning out over the second level deck, admiring the snow. its not uncommon weather for gibraltar but being able to catch sight of a fresh snowfall - while it's still untouched, perfect - should count for something.

"and how am i?" the commander inquires, in an idleness that—like the sheets of soft white stretching across the base—sits quiet, too. and because he also understands cole enough to know that he works better under indirect attention, jack keeps his eye on the view.

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obsessed w this tweet that makes me think of jack morrison

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Christmas themed sentence starters!

"We should totally hang some mistletoe." "We are not hanging mistletoe." "I don't need gifts. Just give me eighteen boxes of pigs in blankets and I'll be happy." "We should bake gingerbread." "Don't look! I'm not done wrapping your gift yet!" "Look! It's snowing!" "Want to decorate cookies with me?" "I need to confess something. I've never cooked a turkey before." "Wait, did we forget the roast potatoes?" "Present time! This one's for you." "Stockings go over the fireplace, not in the fire." "Hot chocolate, blankets, and the lights on the tree. Is there any better way to spend christmas eve?" "I think the tree needs more decorations." "I think there's too much on that tree." "Oh christmas tree, oh christmas tree. ...Uh...what's the next line?" "We should watch christmas films!" "Why are you putting lights there?" "We need more lights." "That house must be visible from space with all those lights." "You should put the star on the tree." "Can I put the star on top?" "The houseplants deserve tinsel too. Otherwise they'll get jealous of the tree." "You cannot escape the ugly jumpers, (name)." "Are you seriously wearing antlers?" "Get in the spirit, name." "I stocked up on fancy chocolates for christmas three days ago. Now they're gone. I am full of sugar and regret." "I'm practising my surprised face. How's this?" "Why even put candy canes on the tree? Aren't they supposed to be eaten?"

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the sigh falling from cole's lips fans out familiar like summer heat across field crops; yellows and oranges—a domestic filter that drowns the gym of its flourescent white with warm saturation.

jack morrison is trying very hard not to smile here, but the blue of his pupils are so warm, and crows-feet are starting to pinch at the corners of his eyes. he breaths out through the mouth to prevent the curve of his lips, the back of a hand thumping against the teenager's shoulder.

"alright, no need to shuck me away," jack says, before thumbing to the weights beside them.

"no more corny puns if you can bench-press three sets of twenty—" the weight bar in question is already stacked at a hundred pounds, which is purposefully a bit much for what he's asking, but cole could use more muscle, and this isn't so much as setting him up to fail as it is to see how far his progress is coming along.

"i'll spot ya."

The groan comes launching right out from his bones in all the ways all teenagers have ever groaned and will groan so as long as there are teenagers pummelled by Dad Jokes as far as the eye can see.

"Stop—" He bleats, exasperation bundled in the knuckle of a single word, but Jack Morrison does not stop, hits a fucking follow-up, two-hitter, all while casually knotting his shoe laces like he's in an overglorified ad with how the sunlight slices through and splashes him in an impromtu spotlight.

Cole jabs in a breath, lips pursed sour and brows as tied up as the Strike Commander's boots. You stick your damn nose through a window, and a gattling gun meets you in the middle — he might prefer the metaphor over the current situation right now.

"How 'bout we stop right there–"

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local 17 yr old doesnt know how to reconcile weird ass shiny blond man (@seventysixed) being nice to him, is reduced to skittish cat behavior

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jack listens to gay sm*t audiobooks in his earpods when hes working out alone btw

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“He smiled understandingly - much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced - or seemed to face - the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby.

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you ain't just corny, you were born on the cob.

@vastiitas

jack contains the urge to laugh with an amused smile that brings out the dimples in his cheeks. angela would never dream of talking to him like this, but cole acts just his age—unapologetically so. the commander would pay good money to hear the kind of thoughts rattling around in that kid's head; he's glad to have been blessed in getting to hear it for free.

his hum is contemplative as he lifts his leg, sneaker balanced against the edge of the workout bench.

"you must have me confused for the kernel," jack says, reigning full attention with re-tying his laces. double-knots secure the world's perfect shoe-string bow, and when his posture straightens back to a stand, his brow lofts at cole.

"—but tell me more, son, i'm all ears."