When Jack Opens His Eyes Again, They Reflect Each Other, Water Over Light And Light Beneath Water

When Jack opens his eyes again, they reflect each other, water over light and light beneath water 

Based on a scene from @segadores-y-soldados lovely fic, Old Habits.

Thank you @starsherit for commissioning me!!

SEP Days pt. 1///Part 2

I started listening to Health because you said you listened to them and they're so good!!!

Anon, you have no idea how happy this makes me! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡Their music is just. so. good. Their stuff (with an emphasis on Death Magic) was a huge inspiration for most of the drawings I've done over the last few months. If you haven’t already, check out their songs ‘USA Boys,’ ‘Stonefist,’ 'In Violet,' and ‘L.A Looks.’ Those are my personal faves.

That’s the way that life goes

Dyin’ to live; livin’ to die

Part 1///SEP Days pt.2 aka Gabe gets taken for a ride on the ruse cruise

AAAAAAAA!!! I STILL DON'T HAVE WORDS TO DESCRIBE MY THANKS FOR THIS FIC!

Everything about this is just so perfect. You took the premise of my comic and elevated it to a whole other level. Your writing's so good 😭😭

I'm gonna go cry a river of joy now

SEP: Sunsets

I wrote this based on the comic “SEP Days” that my friend @vapewraith drew - I love silly SEP and Crisis interactions between Gabriel and Jack so I loved this comic and really wanted to show how much Vape’s art and colors inspire me.

Thank you again, Vapewraith - thank you for nearly nine months of your wonderful Overwatch art!  ❤️  ❤️  ❤️ ———

“Soldiers, line up here.”

There are tart groans and muttered whines as the SEP candidates shuffle to a stop and the group practically collapses against the walls and waist-high concrete barriers.  The exhaustion and aches are practically tangible in the air as the supersoldiers-in-training ease themselves into sitting or leaning or even lying positions - Number: 37 practically throws herself on the group even though it’s as miserably comfortable as sleeping on broken groundstone.  Number: 123 next to Gabriel rolls his shoulders, hissing every time the right one moves back too far, exactly where one of the rubber bullets had hit him earlier.  Number: 88 on the other side of Jack seats herself and then curls up into a ball, pulling the drawstrings on her hood to shut the world into what Jack assumes is blissful darkness.

They’re in one of the halls of the SEP facility - tucked away into a deep mountainside “somewhere out west,” the building is hard angles and brutal concrete and cut-steel, as soft as titanium and as gentle as the injections they get every morning and evening.  Yet even here, in “wherever’s-range,” there is still beauty: the massive windows, normally just cold, crystalline glass, are open to the sunset, bleeding colors across the land and sky, dripping into the hallway with the vibrancy of oil paints.  Reds smoke into bright, endless pinks, golds melt into bold, sunshine yellows, oranges shift into liquid amber, and at the edges of the atmosphere, velvet purples sigh into silky blues, tinting the more vivid colors and steeped clouds with the dusk of night and the emerging stars.

It’s a sight neither Gabriel nor Jack will ever get tired of -

No matter how exhausted they are.

“The doctors will see you shortly -” the SEP instructor starts to say, reappearing at the far end of the hallway, before he looks up from the papers on his clipboard and scowls at the group of crumbling supersoldiers, snapping, “Is that what you call ‘lining up?’”

“Maybe if y’all didn’t work us so damn hard,” Number: 141 growls, his voice climbing into a hoarse yell, “We’d still have the energy to fucking stand!” 

(The rest is under the cut!)

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