竜神の剣

I have been doing alright, but I’ve also been extremely busy as of late. For good reasons, mind you. I am now doing what I love for a living, and though I recently went through a breakup, I have never felt more happy to put myself out there and live my life to the fullest. I feel really grateful for everything I could achieve in these past year.

(Also I might have gotten slightly addicted to FFXIV so there’s also that.)

So, now, for the stuff that’s a bit less nice: As you probably guessed by this year of utter silence, I don’t think I will be ever returning to this blog.

It really pains me to say this because Genji is still a character I love, and I have genuinely enjoyed writing him for all these years; not to mention I got some amazing stories going on here, and I am grateful I got to meet all of you. Nothing will ever change that.

But the fact is, I am now completely emotionally divorced from Overwatch as a series. In huge part because I do not think the people it belongs to deserve devoted fans like us. The various sexual harassment incidents at Activision were already a thing that made me refuse to continue actively engaging with their products. And then, them killing the first game for a pseudo-sequel that did not deliver anything it announced and only forced the whole thing into adopting a somehow even more predatory business model was just the straw that broke the camel’s back for me.

Now, playing the game and writing collaborative fanfic is two different things for sure. I would gladly reclaim Genji as my own and keep interacting with you all here. But at this point, the lore of the series is such a muddied mess of permanent retcons, nonsensical storylines, and shallow newer characters that I don’t see myself ever wanting to try and engage with it ever again. And, well, that’s kind of a problem to write a world with other people.

Ngl, we all knew it’d be bad when Michael and Jeff jumped ship, we just didn’t think they would fuck it up that badly. (In hindsight, though, this is the WoW people. Of course they were gonna fuck it up.)

The addition of a character as fascinating and attractive as Ramattra might have changed my mind last year, but that’s a siren’s song I’m willing to ignore because there’s no saving the dumpster fire that the franchise in its entirety has become in my eyes. OW2 signed a death warrant for a game that helped me recover from a pretty dark time in my life, and that is heartbreaking to say the least. I highly doubt they will prove me wrong anytime soon. I feel like I’ve waited long enough for them to pull their shit together.

So, with this here post, I’m just officially announcing I’m retiring from this RPC. You can hit me up on my main if you wish to stay in touch.

Thank you all for sticking with me for so long. I wish you all the love and success in the world.

Arz

I am putting this account on hold for a little while. Things have been kind of piling up on my side of things and I really cannot promise I can write replies as fast as I used to.

Promise, this won’t last five months like last time! As always, I thank you all for your support.

 AFTER repairs. How long would that take? Not like the simulacrum was pressed for time, but he did NOT like to be bedridden for long, least of all in a pile of SCRAP like this. “We’ll m-meet again in the rrring,” he assured in the same menacing hiss.

Clearly he did not mean as TEAMMATES.

One of his feet made an OBNOXIOUS metal SCRAPING against the floor with every labored step forward. The leg itself was on the verge of GIVING UP and dropping away from him at the hip. His gaze shifted for the dirtied metal frame dragging him along, yellow optics flicking over the SEAMS in silence at first.

Sparrow was not like the MRVN. On the contrary, Revenant suspected the other was HUMAN under there, and that the metal was merely an advanced ARMOR of some form. Maybe. Maybe it was something… else. He yearned to TEAR OFF A LIMB and FIND OUT. Would it be BLOOD or would it be CIRCUITRY that spilled out?

“Just once? I’ll fffix that.”

Guess they really no longer had to pretend to enjoy each other’s company. Sparrow thought it preferable to get what he wanted to say off his chest while the other was in no position to tell him off in less diplomatic ways.

“We will settle this next round, but you must know I will not make it easy for you, so you better give it your all. I will be expecting better than what you showed me today.”  There was some distinct snark in the cyborg’s low growling now. “This lack of regard for your own safety definitely makes you sloppy. If you want to blame somebody for your current predicament, it should not be me.”

Sparrow ended this last sentence with a pained grunt. The burning in his chest was getting harder to ignore. He might not have taken the full blown of the explosion that incapacitated the simulacrum, but it still hit him close. He got hit by fist-sized shards of bombshell big enough to deform his armor, and ironically enough it was his own plating that was now stabbing into the little flesh he still had under there.

It hurt, and he could feel how dangerously close to his heart the damage was. All he hoped was that he would not pass out while he was still half-carrying the other.

They finally arrived in view of the medbay. The perspective of getting to lie down and rid himself of the literal burden on his shoulder was enough to make him peaked up the pace. This relief was however short lived, as he passed a hand over the keypad, only for the door to remain firmly in place. He tried again a few times before he realized there was absolutely no noise coming from inside. No personnel was waiting for them here.

Trust is very easily lost these days (Accepting)

After he came back all bumped up with his wrist at an awkward angle, he had hoped he would remain discreet enough for his fellow Legends not to notice he got himself in trouble. But of course, Octane spotted him about as soon as he returned, ready to rub in his face that, yes, the Hammond Robotics honchos he was going after would not take kindly to... attempted blackmail.

“It is not that I did not trust your warning. More that I did not expect their bodyguard to spot me so soon. Not to mention I had to hold back... You know, sponsors orders. Something about how it would have been bad PR if I killed someone outside the Games.”

“I would be grateful if you kept quiet about this around the others.”

A pause. He glanced down at his own wrist.

No I’m not going to make a joke about the shorthand of the word suspicious (Accepting)

A little while ago, Sparrow would have said he just did not particularly mesh well with people who were loud and abrasive. But that was before the last round of the Games where he unexpectedly began seeing Octane as both an entertaining companion and a trusted friend. So maybe the reason there was someone on the dropship he could barely stand wasn’t a problem with himself or with loud people in general. Maybe it was just that Mirage really did get on his nerves by simply existing.

He didn’t think he liked the guy, and the guy in question probably noticed by how dry his tone was when he addressed him, compared to how he talked to literally everybody else. When Elliott eventually confronted him on the reason he was so suspicious of him, the cyborg saw no reason not to just tell him the truth. Maybe this would spare the two of them any unnecessary headaches in the future.

“Staying cautious on this rock means staying alive for another day. I do not like letting my guard down, even on our days off.”

    whatever the reason he may be here for, eidolon had no real reason to get into his business. their posture straightens at the realization they had been staring, a small bit of guilt waves over them before speaking up. “ah- my apologies, i didn’t mean to stare.”

   in all honesty, they were only here as a small visit to someone- rarely did the androgynous cyborg stay in their home country for very long, but there were always exceptions. “no need to worry about speaking my language, many travelers share the same trouble as you do; but i am willing to translate anything for you.”

“Do not mention it, I would have been staring too if I had noticed what was under your sleeve earlier.” Genji reassured them. “I imagine you are as used to getting gawked at as I am. It is at least good to attract someone’s gaze for reasons different from the usual.”

It was a strange thing to bond over. Technologically enhanced humans were really not that unusual in this day and age, but real cyborgs like them, whose machine parts were a very vital part of their beings, were still an oddity. In fact, Genji was pretty certain this was his first time meeting another person like him.

The ninja couldn’t deny he was pretty curious about this stranger’s story, but seeing how traumatic the memories of his own cyberization surgery were, he decided against pressing them on that topic right now. He instead responded to their offer with a smile in his voice.

“I really appreciate your offer, but I have no need for an interpreter. I do believe I might need a guide however. If you are interested, I am ready to pay you for your services.“

  “ ay, GRACIAS, amigo! “

his thanks sounded genuine, perhaps with a hint of surprise in his voice. part of him expected sparrow to be a lot colder, so he appreciated the compliment a little more than from somebody octane knew wasn’t entirely annoyed by him. maybe he judged the guy too quickly– which proves to the speedster yet again that if you try hard enough, you can befriend anybody. and he will take this to heart.

allowing his teammate to take the blade from his hand, octane now used his free hand to supprt himself on a nearby wall, watching as sparrow opened the blade with two hands and utmost care. the odd, green fluid inside the implemented syringe moved along with each turn; this was octane’s favorite part of the whole weapon. it was just… fun to watch the fluid splash around, maybe even shake the whole thing and you’ll get BUBBLES! it satisfied a part in his brain octane couldn’t pinpoint.

“ está bien! i’ll show you some. cut my own fingertips off plenty of times but it ain’t so bad, compadre, trust me. “

he laughed as he held his hand out again for sparrow to return the knife. thinking about it, he now had the intense need to shake it and watch the bubbles inside the built-in stim.

at first, he only shrugged in response to the other’s question. he wasn’t REALLY doing this whole thing for money… he just liked the attention, the fans. that stuff. money didn’t really matter in that way to octane– sure, it was nice to make some on his own without taking it all from his father’s bank, but… still.

“ dunno, get more stims? ooh, wait, nevermind. i thought about getting, like, an artificial geyser for CASA DE OCTANE. those things are COOL! fuck stairs when you can get into the next level with those things, right? heheh. “

The cyborg rolled the blade in his fingers some more. Toying with the handle and making the liquid inside the syringe froth was entertaining enough for a few seconds. He lightly prodded at the blade with the tip of his index and noticed it left a small chip on the metal of his prosthetic. This was a decently sharp weapon, definitely worth whatever Octane put in having it made.

Speaking of the pecuniary issues, when his partner gave him a response to his question, he was somewhat taken aback by how outlandish and yet so obvious Octane’s plans were. He was one of the rare people who were in the Apex Game for the thrill of it after all - much like the old himself, the ninja recalled having been told. Perhaps there was a part of that in his newfound fondness for the guy.

“Right, I forgot who I was speaking to for a minute.“ He chuckled. “This sounds very you. Definitely inconvenient for going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, though. I would be curious to see this for myself.”

While he was speaking, he had a go at closing the knife with a flick of his wrist, and when he failed miserably, he simply handed it back to its owner.

“I will have to ask my sponsor if I am allowed to visit you once we are out of this mess. I have not really had the luxury of free time since I woke up in this body.”

He would pace around the empty corridor for a bit and have a look outside. all he saw was the Ring slowly creeping closer behind the hills, tainting the sky orange. Shame the only window there was not directly facing any of the screens. He would have liked to check how many participants they were still up against.

They couldn’t just linger here until someone caught them anyway. He grabbed Octane’s arm and slowly pulled him down, beckoning him to sit back down.

 This job seemed simple enough. Just scouting for more information to attack later. He hadn’t really pumped himself up enough for an actual fight; even Ana wasn’t here at the moment.

It took him a moment to realize something was following him. Were his senses dimming with age? No, whoever this was must just be incredibly quiet. Or maybe he should’ve gotten his ears checked after the explosion. That couldn’t have been good for his hearing.

He slipped behind a corner and went around, pointing his rifle carefully. Despite not being incredibly prepared, he was always able to get himself back into the fighting groove. Or at least pretend to.

When he puts the rifle against the person, the sound it makes is…odd. It sounds more like a clink of metal. As he sees a bright green glow coming from where the man’s eyes would be, realization hits him. “Oh. Shimada,” he says. Genji wasn’t exactly easy to mistake for anyone else once you could see him. 

Then he realized. “Wait. Commander? Was my disguise really that bad?”

It doesn’t leave him feeling particularly threatened, though. Genji’s never been a threat, and they were on roughly the same side. Slowly, he lowers his rifle, setting back into a resting position; still able to be used just in case, but not active.

Mostly, he’s just mad it was that easy to see through him.

The old man’s voice was different. It was more gruff and more grave than the authoritative tone Genji was once used to hear barking in his earpiece. He relaxed and turned around as soon as the gun was pointed away, letting a satisfied chuckle slip.

“It was just a hunch, really. But I have to thank you for confirming it.”

“I have some idea of what it feels like to fake your own death and to keep your real name a secret. This would be one thing on which I have more experience than you or the captain, apparently.”

He would gladly have elaborated on what he just said, explain how he began suspecting 76 might not be a complete stranger ever since he came face to face with the real Shrike, but it looked like this story would have to wait. There was some movement inside the suspected Talon outpost. Lights being turned on, people rushing about... Clearly not the best conditions for some spying.

The green light of the ninja’s helmet flickered off and he pulled the soldier by his wrist, beckoning him to follow him deeper in the streets where no light could reach.