SPARROW // HAWK

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! My name is 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇, They/Them, I’m in charge of this chaos. This blog is a HIGHLY PRIVATE and SELECTIVE, LOW ACTIVITY writing blog for Genji Shimada of Blizzard’s Overwatch. Below you can find useful links to important things! I hope you stick around to write with me!

*//(  I forgot I drew this a while ago and it pretty perfectly captures what Genji looks like atm with his greying temples and bit more tired look. 

      Jesse will never forget them. The nightmares still linger to this day. The way Gabriel, a man so sturdy and who had seen it all would flinch at the echoing screams. Who would look away, grimace as he had to hear the echoes of agony of a young man he vowed to protect as his own…feeling useless. He could protect them from the world. But not his own body. He will never forget begging Angela to help him, to find a way to stop his pain and only gaining sad tired blue eyes in response. How she worked to save him. Tirelessly, holding him back as he cursed their names for keeping him alive. All the death glares and the brooding silence. The pain behind red glowing eyes.

He remembered them the most. Squinting at him with rage, fury he had never seen before. The heat of a fire birthed of a dying man cursed to live in a robotic shell. The trauma, the fear of never knowing if he was still human. Did Genji remember all the times Jesse sat by his bedside? All the times he’d look away in shame, expecting the Cowboy to leave, to hate him? All the times Jesse would vow to him he was still there. That he’d never leave and smile that dumb smile if only to make Genji smile faintly back?

 How….How could anyone do this? To hurt someone they were suppose to protect? To love. Every time he thought of it, and he put himself in Hanzo’s place, McCree would easily set his sword through his own chest. He would die before ever hurting Genji, no matter what goddamn system told him to do the opposite. 

Excuses. All of it was excuses…

“You’re a stronger man than I am, Sparrow. You always have been…”

 Jesse glared down at his cigar before dropping it to the ground and stomping on it, all but losing interest in it. This topic always made him feel sick. Disgusted. He couldn’t. Not ever. Never would he stare at the older Shimada with content…but that was the last thing Genji needed and he could already tell this was bothering him. No. He’d hold his grudge deep down inside. Let it fester and darken that old spot he had in his heart for the rest of his life. Save it for the day they inevitably met…but for now instead he’d give Genji a faint smile that would never reach hazel eyes. 

“But-….fine. For you. I’ll leave it be. Hell maybe might even get a drink with the bastard if it pleases you.” McCree would lie smoothly. The words on his tongue felt like dirt. He wanted to spit it was that painful to say out loud. Only for Genji would he stomach such vile at all. Being in Blackwatch taught him a thing about a good pokerface but he vaguely wondered if it would be enough for the ninja. If anyone knew him the best, it was him…

“Lets…just drop it, yeah? Should’ve never let it rattle m’cage in the first place. Hope y’can forgive me.” With that, he’d pull his hat off and place it against his heart, bowing his head some apologetically. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 --  A lesson explained in one of Angela’s orientations. The brain couldn’t handle remembering every single pain the human body had endured, so it forgets the feeling of pain after it happens. But the lasting damage still effects it. Changes the way people perceive things, and reacts. It does this to protect itself and the body that houses it.

You remember the lesson on trauma.     You remember the white knuckle grip on the edge of your chair and the acrid taste in your mouth through the entire rehabilitation. The conflicting memories of Hanzo’s pride when you excelled in training flashing back to the mourning in his eyes as brothers met unwilling on the floor of their home.      You remember the initial spark of rage that grew when Hanzo told you what was to become of you, you remember your anger, how the fingers on your left hand were the first to go when you’d foolishly grabbed the blade of his sword as the disconnect between reality started and the rage and desperation to live replaced it.     You did not die with your tail between your legs, you died spitting blood and swinging a blade like an rabid beast. Your dismemberment and mutilation was brought upon by your own attempted retaliation and brutality as self preservation outweighed your concern for the condition of your body ---

Your stomach churns in the brittle silence, dragging yourself from the gnawing depths of your memories. You busy yourself with studying his expression. Always a gentleman on the outside, always a scoundrel beneath that cowboy... Liar.     The sigh that passes your teeth carries with it a metallic whistle as synthetic vocal chords flex with the action. 

          “ I don’t expect you to understand the intricacies of what living with the Shimada name was like. And it would be complicated to try and explain it... just know that it was no fault of Hanzo’s for what happened. He did what they pressured and taught him to do and it destroyed him much like it destroyed me... though my scars are on the outside, he bares his inside, where they cannot be tended to by a found family that loves him. 

Imagine the greatest loss and pain and agony of your life. Now imagine you had to endure it alone and no one ever came to help you.     How much that would fuck you up... ”

Your voice trails, hands finding your own brand of nicotine in your pocket and your lighter to go with it, the inhale of curling smoke like a book end to your thoughts.

        “ You can’t fool me Mccree, I see through you. And I won’t ask you to break bread with the man on my behalf, but I will ask that you let us both be free of the shackles of the past. Meet him as the man he is now, not with the ghosts you know of me still lingering in his shadow.

And-   please, you don’t have to apologize. You’re allowed to have your own feelings about it, and I don’t blame you for them. I just ask you try not to let them color your views of someone I still hold close to my heart.    At least for my sake.

@cybushin "You hold more resentment for my brother then I do at this point it seems"

     “Well here? It’s a cardinal sin to go against kin. The worse thing a man can do in the eyes of a former Deadlock member.” Jesse lit his cigar with an rumbled growl. “Bastard deserves a few rounds with Peacekeeper…”

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 -- Until you were pouring out old pains into your palms to reconcile with old scars never quite healed right.       Healing is hard.       Nothing about stringing together the pieces of who you used to be gets any easier the longer you do it, there’s just more thread and a person shaped thing in your stead. Some days you’re soaring, and some you’re plummeting. Such is the way of life when living with ghosts in places they weren’t meant to be.

Hands raise, shifting off the metal plates that conceal your face, that you might be vulnerable and human in this moment with the man who watched you trudge through the thickest parts of your agony and who stayed, irregardless of the brutality and the grime of it all.          Tired eyes centered with an unnatural red glow, always carrying bags, even from beneath winged liner and the fraying greys climbing up your temples, stray silver amongst black. You are lacing scars and patchwork metal and skin, old piercings redone for some sense of agency. Old faded tattoos half eaten away by rot. 

The look you give him is tempered, how could it not be?  You understand his ire, the man watched you tear wires from your body and fill the halls with the screams of your torment. Your recovery was anything but graceful. You chased death like a dog, desperate and diligent, and determined. You remember the long argued conversations about value, and worth, and living in spite of dying once. You can’t blame him for his anger. But you can’t revel in it either. It’s an old feeling you no longer wish to be friends with. For your sake, you hope he’ll put it to the grave too.

“ It’s easy to think the situation was simple when you’re this far away from it, but I can assure you from living it, things were never that easy.       The stress the elders placed on Hanzo was a weight no boy should ever have to carry.    He was a kid.    So was I.    We never should have been put in that position- HE never should have been. The psychological damage of killing your baby brother... I can’t imagine how much that must have eaten him alive. And for how long? He suffered alone in silence.      After I was gone, he had no one. ”

The pause lays heavy on your chest, the discomfort of the subject playing across your features even despite the time you’ve spent untying that noose and weaving the rope into braids with shaky hands. 

“ What my brother deserves is the chance to heal. And he has enough obstacles fighting himself over that fact as it stands, he scarcely needs more people wanting their pound of flesh. He’s suffered enough. We’ve both suffered enough... I just want him to find peace. Something that makes him happy, that he allows himself to be happy with, and a future where he can stop trying to wash long dried blood from his hands.

POST 3-5 SONGS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR MUSE.

1. TREAD ON ME - Matt Maeson (Essentially my Genji theme song tbh)

2. UNDERTOW - Son Lux

3. ALL GONE - Mother Mother

4. WASHING MACHINE HEART - Mitski

5. HALLUCINAGENICS - Matt Maeson