Fantasy The Good, The Bad, And The Dirty

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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“My fingers aren’t skinny,” he said. Dagan had no issue with it, he supposed his fingers were more slender in some aspects. They had plenty of callouses though, his hands were far from smooth. Piano playing? That seemed laughable. “Yeah, yeah,” he said as the other teased him. “It’s never… It’s never felt important, no offense. Like the hero shit. But now it’s kinda real. Really real.” He shrugged, Dagan wouldn’t say it, but a worry had begun to form. Ronan was messing with heavy things, people who didn’t like him. He didn’t know what he would do if someone figured the other man out. Dagan liked his friend, he didn’t need anything to happen to him. “Just ‘cause I’m worried about the suit fitting and working doesn’t mean I’m a fucking mess in every way,” he assured the other. He smiled over at Ronan.

Silence filled the air for just a moment, making Dagan wonder how long thenother would keep this up. Forever, he supposed. I don’t want you to be a hero. I want you to be normal, so we can do normal things together. Like the pair had before. It wasn’t that he was disappointed by the other’s heroic status. It surely made their time together more fascinating, but it also led to anxiety on Dagan’s end. If the suit failed his friend, then it would be Dagan’s fault. He knew Ronan wouldn’t say it but Dagan knew it was the truth. I cant let anything happen to you, I’d never forgive myself.

Outside of his crafty abilities, Dagan had absolutely no power. “Are you just gonna keep that thing on or what?” He teased the other. Dagan risked another glance toward his friend. “Unless you’re on your way to go melt some fuckin’ idiot, you should probably take it off.” He was teasing the other now, nudging him. Dagan’s gaze lingered on Ronan fkr just a moment. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

"Your fingers are very skinny." Ronan would retort. Rolling his eyes as he let go.

Ronan had understood the concept of normal, he knew what normalcy was. Yet he knew he would never be able to truly achieve it. There was always a disconnect between him and normal, non-super people. He was capable of so much good, as well as harm. A subconscious fear of himself had grown like a fungus behind Ronan. Knowing just what he could do to someone like he did his mother as a child. Her arm was forever covered in a nasty scar because of his ability. While yes, he was generally a bright guy, at the same time he harbored his own anxieties and depression. He tried to suffocate the negativity deep in his heart, burying it like a coffin in the back of his mind. He dare not speak it or think of it. That’s generally the kind of person he was. But something about Dagan made him want to break down his walls, let his guard down, and relax. But yet Ronan knew he couldn’t. Always steeled stiff like a tire iron. “It’s not about how important it is to me.” he would admit, his voice a little bittersweet. Dripping with an unrecognizable disdain as he decided to put the mask back on, hiding behind it. Just as he always did. If not a literal mask, an emotional one. “It’s about how important I am to other people.” He murmured, muffled slightly as his mouth was obstructed. "It's always been very, very real. But it's not like you'd know it. You're not the one experiencing it."

He would wait, a rather long time until he took the mask off again, smiling as he did. “I probably should. Shouldn’t I?” he hummed. Turning to look behind himself at his neatly folded clothes. “Or…” he trailed. Turning back to his friend as he held a hand out. “We can go melt some asshole like you mentioned. I’m sure there’s someone, somewhere who needs help. You can come along and actually see it first hand too.” he scrunched his nose. Gesturing him to agree. “But we don’t have to.”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Dagan hadn't expected the suggestion. He blinked, the shock showing clearly on his face. "You can make it matter to yourself." He wasn't trying to be cheesy, "Doesn't matter though, I guess. If you're not into it you don't have to be." He looked back at the other. Right. Real. Dagan shrugged. "I guess, it's real to everyone else. It's just different because I know you." He shrugged.

"Like, if anyone else was the one doing this shit, I think I'd still think of it as real." He winced, knowing how it sounded. But it also didn't matter too much. The suggestion from Ronan made him hesitate. He laughed softly at the idea. "Yeah? I s'pose it wouldn't hurt to see. I'd love to, actually." I don't want you to die. I don't know what I could do, but if I was there it would give me peace of mind. "How do you even know if someone out there is... Doing something?" He esitated. "Doesn't matter. I think we should."

Was Dagan meant to hide though? Any ties to the other seemed... It wasn't the right thing. He didn't think he wanted to be seen with Ronan as a hero, for his own safety. He pushed those worries aside, smiling over at the other. "Let's go."

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

Ronan stayed smiling. His eyes curling as he again pulled the mask on, properly fastening it to the suit as he flexed his fingers. Trying to loosen the fabric as he turned back to his friend, again the mask covered any emotional depth, a blank slate as he took a step towards Dagan. Slowly taking his hand to pull him along.

“You know. There’s this one guy I keep running into. He’s killed some people. I haven’t been able to stop him though.” He began. “Every time we fight, he somehow manages to get the upper hand and escape.” He stated, disappointment evident. “I don’t think he’ll be out tonight, it wouldn’t fit his m.o to try anything at this time. Usually it’s later, or so early in the morning nobody is around to see him.” He explained. “But if you see someone wearing a red Oni mask, run, okay?” He requested stopping as they reached the door, his other hand resting comfortably on the handle as he waited for a reply.

“And I mean all of this in general. I tell you because I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened. It’s my job not only as a “hero” but as your friend to make sure you don’t get hurt because of me.” He finished.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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For just a moment, Dagan's smile faltered. Hearing about how the other had seen others die didn't seem ideal. It made him worry. Oh my god. He didn't know what to say, just staring with his lips slightly parted. He stoped himself from standing there, mouth agape. "So long as you're careful, Ronan. I don't want anything to happen." The other's hand was warm in Dagan's own. He wondered if he felt cold to Ronan, given the other 's skin was always emanating the most noticeable heat. "I know, I know. I'll run or whatever." Not that he was particularly fast, but he supposed it would give Ronan some peace of mind.

"You be careful too," Dagan said suddenly. "I get you have powers and I'm just normal, but you're not fuckin' invincible." I"m kind of scared. Dagan didn't want to see Ronan get smacked around. Still, the way the other had spoken left him curious. Ronan sounded a bit excited to show of his amazing skills. He didn't know what else he was supposed to say about that. "I know I sound like some annoying ass parent, it's just a little worrying." He was teasing the other now. "Seeing you in action." He nudged the other boy before walking out of the door and onto the street again.

"Which way?" He looked to Ronan for guidance, a nervous grin spread across his face. They had begun to walk together, Dagan trailing behind just slightly. Wouldn't someone know that Dagan knew who Ronan truly was? At least, if they were walking together...

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

It was unlikely anyone would recognize Ronan anyway. Firefly didn’t wear anything like he currently was. So unless someone was being overly curious about Ronan, he doubted anything would happen. But it seems the same doubts also came over Ronan as soon as they stepped out. With a small sigh, he’d let go, backtracking inside to quickly pull his other clothes on top of the outfit. Taking his mask off as well, leaving his hair all messy as he took his spot next to his friend again. Dagan was cold to Ronan, admittedly he felt some sort of need to warm the other up. It was why he got particularly touchy with him at times, holding his hand or weird touches that otherwise would make no sense. Ronan was a furnace, always there to warm Dagan.

“My safety comes secondary.” he insisted. His face becoming serious as he bent down slightly. Leaning in awfully close as he stared Dagan in the eyes, trying to express his sincerity. Words trapped in his throat that he just couldn’t seem to admit. I like you. Sometimes he wished he could just scream it, confess, but he couldn’t. It was the one line he refused to cross to make sure Dagan remained at his side. But it was why he was so insistent that Dagan save himself over helping Ronan. Quite literally Ronan NEEDED Dagan to ground himself. And it had grown into an intense admiration.

“And stop worrying, there’s a reason I’m still #1 in online clips right now.” He joked. Looking around before pointing in a random direction. “How about that way?”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Ronan's insistence that Dagan save himself first made the man want to roll his eyes. He needed to remind the other of so many things, affectionately. It was simply funny to him, knowing the way that the other functioned. He wasn't sure if it was selflessness or genuine compassion that made the other man worry for him in that way. Not that he doubted the other in any capacity, he was simply worried.

Who wouldn't be? Their best friend breathing fire and saving strangers was overwhelming to actually see in person, Dagan was quite concerned about seeing it all in action. What if it went horribly wrong? He wasn't sure he could do that. "Well, that's very heroic of you," he teased. Reaching up, he pushed a few strands of the other's messy hair out of his face. "I'm sure that seeing you do all this in person is worlds more impressive than any shitty internet clip." He grinned over at the other.

"Don't you get nervous though?" He had turned the corner with Ronan, glancing around. "I wouldn't be able to do anything, if I had your abilities. It just seems..." He smiled oer at Ronan. "It's really impressive."

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

Ronan knew he was being too altruistic with his idea of keeping Dagan safe. Ultimately it would have just been safer to not bring him at all. But he was eager to wear the new costume. He wanted to prove to him just how much he really liked it. To him it was the most personal gift he could receive, and he was proud to wear it for Dagan. Maybe it was just the fact that he liked him. Or maybe it was the fact that Dagan was the only person outside of his family that actually knew the real him, and his voiceless persona that the media swarmed like flies to a garbage can.

Ronan smiled. Warmly at his friend who always seemed so cold. He hoped to be a source of light for him, a warmth that never went away. Perhaps he also wanted Dagan to rely on him more as well, as he relied on Dagan. “Oh. I get nervous all the time.” He admitted. “But then I think of how upset my mom would be, or you, and try harder not to disappoint you guys.”He hummed. His breath leaving a fog as he spoke. The cold season was coming in, not that Ronan minded, he barely ever felt cold anymore.

“It’s not all too impressive. Honestly I just want to have you around more… it’s hard only having one friend.” He admitted with another laugh, his voice awkward and a bit shy as he rubbed at his chin. “But I don’t need any more. I’m happy just being able to hang out with you when I can.”

Slinging an arm around Dagan, Ronan pulled him nice and close, leaning in.

“If you feel at any point you may be in danger, I want you to leave okay? I’ll come find you after.”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Something about hearing the other speak made him feel a little better. When Ronan smiled at him, for just a moment Dagan's whole body felt warm. He didn't want things to happen to the other. He had taken a few careful steps forward and walked over to the other. He had hugged Ronan. "I think it's cool," he said suddenly. "You're really cool, Ronan. I appreciate the shit you're doing. It's fuckin' scary though. I don't want anything to happen to you." He had hugged him tightly, surprised by his own movements. Perhaps it had been triggered by their closeness. He wanted to squeeze the other close to him, it made him relax a little bit.

"I trust you," he told the other. Everything was honest. He didn't have the heart to lie to Ronan. He hadn't in a long time. it’s hard only having one friend. The words made him frown a little, he wanted to tell Ronan it was fine. "You're the only friend I need, too." He was being reassuring, but he meant it entirely. "I love being around you. It's good to have you here." He grinned, teasing the other a little by leaning against him. "Now, I wanna see if you're actually gonna make the suit work. Like it looks really good, I'm just worried it'll fall apart or some shit."

Dagan paused for a moment, sighing. "Not that it'll fall apart entirely. I just think, I want to be sure it works. I'm sure you get it." He had released the other from the hug. He had smiled over at the other man, following after Ronan. The warning about leaving had Dagan nodding. "Yeah, I'll leave. Promise. I just... I think it'll be fine. I trust you."

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

Ronan’s heart wasn’t quite ready for Dagan’s hug. The way his heart rate spiked and his eyes widened should have been enough to express just how unprepared he was. But he accepted it, gladly returning the hug with a small, yet firm squeeze as he set his head in the other’s shoulder. Relishing in the moment. Ronan’s face would heat as well, warming in the crevasse between his shoulder and neck as he hugged him. Hanging on to every word. Like a lovelorn dog desperate for any attention.

Once the hug was over, he reluctantly moved back. Keeping a smile on his face as he did so. “I’m glad you think I’m cool.” Hed smile. Still radiating that warmth as he went back to taking Dagan’s hand. Wanting that physical connection regardless of how small. To him it was all he needed.

“The suit is fine, Dagan. It’ll be fine, it’ll be absolutely fine.” He insisted. Squeezing his hand as he insisted against the other’s worries. “You made it perfectly, so give yourself some credit.” He added. Finally letting go and putting some distance. “And if you keep saying that your worries I may get hurt, it might happen. So don’t jinx it.”

And with that, he was off, guiding his friend on a journey.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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"How could I not think you're cool?" Dagan meant everything he said. At least right now he did. Ronan's words held some truth. It was better to not vocalize so much worry. It could manifest in a bad way. "You're right," he agreed. Dagan had barely noticed Ronan's blushing face, instead humming softly to himself as they walked alongside each other. That was when they saw it. Someone else. Someone who clearly wasn't doing good. Though there weren't any other people Dagan could see, he could hear someone screaming. His eyes darted over toward Ronan for a moment.

"You're going to do great," he mumbled to the other. Dagan figured he should hide, stay on the sidelines. There was yelling, there was commotion in general. Dagan had given the other's shoulder a squeeze, reaching up with a hand he hadn't realized was shaking until now. You're going to do great. I think I'd die if you did. I'll never forgive myself if anything happens. He watched with wide eyes, excited for whatever would come from all this. His hands shook a bit, so Dagan shoved them into his pockets. He didn't want anyone to see, least of all Ronan. It seemed humiliating, to know that someone could see him and realize he was so afraid in the moment. Not for himself though. For Ronan.

He could hear sounds around him, the ground shook as the other masked man moved across the street. Dagan had caught a glimpse of the other standing before Ronan, which made Dagan slip away. He had walked into a small alleyway between two tall buildings. Watching from the shadows was safer. Dagan was surprised to hear a voice behind him, and when he turned his head he came to realize that there was someone else in the alley. Something about the hand that settled on his shoulder made him stiffen. He was still watching Ronan, not wanting to take his eyes off of the other. The hand on his shoulder tightened their grasp. "We need to get out of here. We aren't safe." The woman's eyes were wide with fear. "You can go," Dagan's words were a bit softer than he expected. "Please, get out of here. Save yourself." He was being sincere, he didn't want to see the other hurt. He didn't know the woman at all, but he didn't want her to get hurt.

That was when a crack was heard.

Dagan tensed up, looking above him. The two buildings that the two were between had begun to fall. His eyes widened. "Fuck," he mumbled to himself. His hands trembled as he ran out from between the two buildings. He couldn't stay there, he also didn't think of the woman, silently hoping she had run as well. Ronan had been doing so well. He stilll was doing well, but the panic that had settled in made him feel ill. Ronan was being perfect, Dagan could never put himself in such a position. Please be careful Ronan. Please don't get hurt.

He knew the collapsing of the buildings wasn't exactly safe. He should run, but he couldn't leave Ronan. Panic had settled in, but he knew he had to move. Dagan was frozen for just a moment. He didn't know where the supposed villain was, he couldn't see him. Just Ronan. "Are you okay?" He was speaking in Ronan's general direction. He had begun to run towards the other. Ronan, I shouldn't have come. This isn't something for me I don't think. That was when he felt it. A sharp, piercing feeling that made him practically crumple where he stood. His vision had blurred as he felt a piercing pain in his stomach. "Oh my god," he wheezed. Dagan's head was spinning. Oh my god. Am I dying? His vision was spotting. He couldn't feel much of anything, just heard a loud sound of thudding around him. Only then did the world go black.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Devastated

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

The other man’s hands moved faster than his brain, damn near tearing off the clothes he had covered the superhero getup in, he would pull the mask on, Nodding aggressively in response to the other’s words. Dropping his jaw to allow smoke to bellow from his lungs, he sprung forward into action. Jumping forward like a bullet into the commotion, parting spectacularly through dust as he faintly heard explosions sound. A trail of his smoke following him as the hero tried to save people. Weaving between the running, screaming crowd that quickly overwhelmed him. A sensory overload as he collected some people left and right, pulling them to other civillians to take. Overall just doing search and rescue until he stopped, faced with a mortal enemy that hadn’t even made a name for himself. Menacingly cruel as they watched over the devastation with an equally stoic mask, forever pulled into a nasty scowl.

It was by far the worst stunt pulled by the villain. And ronan was reeling. With a spark, the fire breathing hero began to torch at the source of all the screaming, lunging at who he only knew as “The Oni” with the intention to injure and capture him. All while he listened to the screams of those trying to escape. It felt like his ears rang. And while he tried to keep mind of Dagan, slowly did he become a secondary thought. That was until the buildings began to shift.

It was a haunting sound to Ronan, the voice of dagan bouncing around in his ears and invading his mind. Spinning around towards the source, he shot frantic looks up, gunning it towards Dagan, leaping and bounding over obstacles as what felt like the sky fell above them. But he just wasn’t fast enough. Clambering and grasping forward to try and cover Dagan, becoming a human meat shield, he fell just short. Collapsing underneath the weight of reinforced rebar and concrete. Screaming for Dagan. It was cut short however as he disappeared underneath the rubble. Entombing him, and effectively putting him out of the battle as his chest was sliced and shredded. Unable to withstand the piercing force of the collapsed buildings. Nestling glass and metal, wrapping around his shoulder to his back. Soon to be a permanent reminder of his failure.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  mood

  
  
  
  

  who knows?
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

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Dagan lived a hidden life. Devoid of prying eyes, now he was free of the public eye. There were of course exceptions. The place he had taken up calling home was far from homely. Still, it did the job. A near death experience left him thinking about what was really worth it. His old job had never been worth it. That was the logic Dagan functioned under now, this was worlds better than his life before. Being alone stung at times, worrying no one cared about him. Not many people got to see their own funeral, Dagan was no exception. Yet, he had seen the aftermath. It didn’t compel him in any way. Instead he felt like disappearing was the right thing.

A dingy warehouse had become home to the brunet. There was a small living quarters, he’d been shown them before, but every time he managed to walk into them it still felt surreal. Having skipped out on college for trade school felt like a blessing with all the odd machines that were scattered throughout the building. He’d been told what they did once, and it hadn’t been hard to modify them, even improve them. Dagan had felt oddly proud of himself for being able to accomplish such a feat. The man who had taken him in– after practically murdering him, which Dagan had yet to understand– had shown him the way things worked.

And then passed on.

Some things didn't make sense to him anymore. He barely thought of Ronan, and when he did it was only in negative ways. He had felt alone, especially now. His friend's absence, and now the absence of the man he had lived with for the past year and a half. He was pretty sure that was where it had all come from. Dagan was alone, and he was content with that. He could only do what made sense to him, in this case it was taking the role of the man before him. It wasn't that he thought it made sense, but there wasn't anything else to do. The only thing he could do was continue wreaking havoc on behalf of his predecessor. Fighting against Ronan, the very person he wanted to stop being a hero. That was why he did it. Hoping that he would quit. THat was why he had even headed out today, the asme thing he had been shown how to do. The same way he had almost died. Causing problems wherever he went. Dagan was practically gone, nothing like he had been before.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

Nightmares plagued the hero since that day. After coming to and eventually clambering out of his cairn of cement, he spent hours, combing, looking for a body that he was never able to find. Hours turned into days, and he would search, hoping to find something, anything, but there was never a body. And at the funeral, he sat, stoic, unmoving, devastated. But he didn’t dare cry. His eyes would redden, but he never once allowed a tear to drop past his lashes as they evaporated. The nightmares always consisted of a mangled corpse, resembling his friend, begging for an answer as to why Ronan was unable to save him. And it ate away at the hero. He felt like the killer while the people around him praised him like a messiah.

He’d awaken in cold sweats, his left arm aching from each beat of his heart as the lasting damage of the collapsed buildings wretched his nerves. It was miraculous he could still use it, considering how much time it took Ronan to seek medical attention after spending so much time trying to find Dagan. He blamed himself, hated himself.

And since, he’d made it a persistent goal to kill whom had done this. Never once did he not wear the costume made by Dagan, patched, he would wear his old clothes on top. Hiding his injuries and damaged costume so that he could hold on to the memories he had left, aside from the pictures he kept in a box under his bed. Never once allowing his bad arm to be his disadvantage.

Somewhere over the course of his constant fights with “The Oni” Ronan would pick up on a small difference, There was little strength behind Dagan’s attacks, unlike the man before who would spar with Ronan, he would notice that now the villain would keep his attacks at a distance. But that didn’t stop Ronan from trying to claw his way at the man with murderous rage. Spitting flames as he took damage. Like a tenacious dragon. He hardly resembled the Hero he had once been. No longer was he righteous when it came to the Oni, now instead it was all violence. At one point he managed to get close enough to finally touch Dagan, yet he was sliced with a dagger he hadn’t been anticipating. It broke through the weakened goggle glass of his mask. Cutting through the tender skin underneath and blinding him in that eye. It wasn’t visibly bloody, pooling inside the mask. It had been the worse injury the man had sustained since though. Aside from the few bullet marks as well as miscellaneous scars he retained because of his recklessness while trying to take Dagan down.

And today would be no different, pulling on the costume as he had done many times before, hed slip into the night. Ready for his patrol. With a keen eye for his nemisis.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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No one cared about him. That had been Dagan's final conclusion. Unaware of the world around him for at least a month after his apparent death, Dagan believed whatever was told to him. It was the least he could do. He had almost felt indebted to the other. His brain felt scrambled, trying to pick through his memories. He loathed himself for having been friends with Ronan, someone who had apparently cared so little for him.

That was what kept him going.

The feeling of betrayal. He had looked around at the people on the streets. He was blessed with some form of mechanical knowledge, so he modified the suit that had been left behind. More mechanics, less physical strangth. Dagan hadn't really ever recovered much strength. He was still weak. He could barely leave, for fear of being seen. He had implemented some other things, in hopes that the metallic parts of the suit wouldn't leave fatal burns. He couldn't die. Dagan refused.

His eyes scanned the scene behind the mask, when he settled his gaze on Ronan's masked figure. You shouldn't be a fucking hero. You don't deserve such a title. He stared, trying his best to focus. That was when he let the first weapon go. Throwing a knife in Ronan's direction. It was safer for him to keep a distance, Dagan had to make things work as best he could, and it took effort, he knew that.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

Ronan wished he was able to apologise. Wished he could hug dagan one last time, but what once was a pity party for himself became a driving motivation. As long as the Oni existed, Ronan would be there.

There was one thing Dagan didn’t account for, and that was the fact that ronan was finally done playing around. Honing his skills over the course of many months, he finally pulled his trump card. Unleashing a thick stream of something that resembled a magma, stopping the blade effectively before he began to advance. Scooping the magma into his once fragile hands as he weilded the heat as a weapon of sorts. Reacting with the fabric gloves, they’d burn into a bright brilliant flame. And once was a slow, marching approach became a bound, then a sprint as he ran at Dagan. Mouth dropping open as he blew flames at him like he’d tried so many times before, He was going to end it today, he would avenge his best friend. And he’d willingly die trying.

He had never made a sound during their fights before. Always quiet. A silent yet obviously motivated individual. It all changed as he let out a hoarse scream. The words undecipherable as he reached for Daganwith a flaming hand. Smoke trailing him like a cape as his masked face grew closer. Ready to tank everything thrown at him.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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He had started small. That had become how Dagan functioned. Go easy and when he got desperate he would lash out. He had reached out as the other ran towards him, feeling the heat of the fire. His face and hair had become slick with sweat, hands trembling just slightly. Get a fucking grip. Though this had become normal now, anxiety still gnawed at him in such instances.

Dagan hadn't realized how close Ronan truly was until it was too late. His eyes had widened as he held up and arm to brace himself, though the impact made him feel sick. He pushed back, barbs on the arms of his suit sticking out just slightly, something Dagan had implimented once when Ronan had gotten too close before.

The heat radiating off of the other made the interior of the suit hot, Dagan felt his body shaking. Their colliding bodies was more than Dagan had expected, resulting in him falling over. He quickly pushed himself up. The man felt something in his body burning. He was definitely going to be wounded, but he could carry himself through it. Dagan was sure of it.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

Ronan was honestly a little surprised that he managed to actually grasp him this time. His hand clenching down, he’d allow the barbs to pierce through. Keeping firm as his other hand planted straight into Dagan’s stomach. Powerful and scorching as his fists continued to flame. One powerful punch turned into two, then three, he kept going. His own hands becoming bloodied as he connected with the barbs. But he didn’t care. He finally had the Oni. and he didn’t want to let him off soft. He wanted to remind him of all the pain he’d caused not only him, but the people, and most importantly of all to him, to Dagan. At one point he’d plant his fist straight into the center of the mask, knuckles bleeding and pouring his hot blood across the mask. His eyes impossible to see through the smog as he heaved and puffed smoke.

Though he eventually lost his grip, allowing Dagan that leeway to wiggle out of his grasp and grow distance between himself and Ronan. Sleek in his own sweat, the “hero” would stand still for a moment, taking in fresh air before he began another approach. Hands coming up for yet another attack. He moved like an animal, desperate as he began a relentless pursuit. Unaware of the growing eyes on him as he chased after.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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The first punch to his stomach was survivable, but as they cntinued he groaned. The one to his face made Dagan practically double over. Blood oozed from his nose, dripping down his face until he tasted the metallic tang on his tongue. Wheezing, Dagan silently hoped the filter in the mask would help him breath a bit better. He was trying not to gag for air. Dagan wanted to throw up, he could taste the blood, it was overhwelming. His senses were in a frenzy, his brain felt like it was shutting down. Oh fucking hell.

He hadn't thought Ronan was capable of besting him. He had slipped away when he had the chance, but staggered as he moved away from the other. He lashed out again, swinging his armored arms at the other in hopes of stunning him. His skin beneath the suit was beginning to blister. Not everywhere, he had things to help combat the heat, but everything was beginning to get overpowered. He needed to run. He had to hide. Dagan tured, launching another knie at Ronan and relaxing just slightly when he saw it strike the other's shoulder. He could probably run, though he could tell parts of the mechanical suit were beginning to fail. That hadn't happened before. It hurt, everything hurt. His movements were beginning to slow, as much as he wished to hide it.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

Call it some lucky shots, but both seemed to slow “Firefly” down as well. But probably not as much as Dagan would like as Ronan’s smoke continued to seethe from his nose and mouth. Puffing through the cracks in his mask as he stopped moving briefly, crying out as the knife landed into his tender, bad arm. But it seemed to only enrage him further as he ripped it out with another cry, And once again he was running after, with the disadvantage of being barely able to use his arm through the pain.

Leaping at him Ronan would make another mad grab for Dagan, Missing as he fell forward, but yet again he was undeterred as he scrambled after him. The press following like mosquitoes to a rare blood type. What once was a small group of onlookers was becoming an army of news publications due to the commotion Firefly caused. Yelling with each desperate movement as he gained on The Oni, spitting fire to hopefully cut off routes.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Dagan didn't know what to do. Get out of the fucking suit. Get the fuck out of it. You're going to die. The taste of blood and smoke made him feel so sick. Dagan's body was moving slower and slower now. His throat was getting tighter, and when Ronan lnged for him again, he felt his body sink down. iFucking shit. It fucking hurts to do anything. The way he had planned to take out was now on fire. Dagan had run towards the next best thing, beginning to clamber up the fire escape of a building, hoping he could jump over the flames.

He thought better of it though, simply hauling himself up higher onto some random balcony. He could see ronan getting closer, and finally, their bodies were close. They were technically face-to-face. Yet the two of them didn't really see each other. Dagan could feel his body trembling, he was staggering about, almost unable to stand upright. The sweat had begun to mix with his blood, likely painting his face a tinge of red as he tried to stand upright.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

Dagan. That’s all Ronan’s head was filled with. How he would finally take revenge for his friend. Everything else was numbed, the pain, his exhaustion as he exerted himself to end things quickly. For once he had taken the upper hand, and accepted it as he jumped, with ease joining the Oni on the balcony. Quickly approaching from behind as smoke finally stopped pouring from him like a chimney. Taking the knife from earlier, hed grasp the weaker man’s leg, forcing it into his thigh and twisting the blade before he’d stand above the Oni. Victorious at last as he gazed down. The glossy goggles of his mask giving him a far more threatening appearance as hed bend down, taking in the look of the other’s eyes. Enjoying the pain he could see reflected in them. To Ronan, it was soothing that this monster felt it.

Then came words, the first words he’d spoken in front of Dagan since what had happened, since Dagan “died”. A tone once thought never imaginable as slowly Ronan lowered himself. Kneeling on Dagan with all his weight. “Do you give up?” he’d ask. Slowly grabbing for the mask. “Because it’s time to send you back to hell, and meet your maker. Let me do you a favor and send you personally.” hed puffed. "I'll take everything back that you've taken from me." He added. in a somewhat sultry manner despite the context as he pulled at the mask. melting it before gazing upon the identity beneath.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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This was it.

Dagan's body felt heavy, it felt like it was already melting away. The knife that had somehow found its way into his leg because of the other made him groan. His hands grasped at the other's wrists, trying to stop him from taking his mask, despite all the pain. I don't want you to know. I hate you. I hate you but I don't want you to know. Though it seemed a bit too late for that. His eyes were full of tears, which Dagan had decided was due to the pain. And certainly not any remaining emotional problems that felt unresolved.

He was gasping for air as the other pressed his weight onto him, but the way the mask melted off of his face made things so much worse. Dagan's dark eyes met Ronan's. For a moment, he was reminded of everything before. The mask that he made. How he had helped his former friend. Though that was quickly replaced with the betrayal he had felt for so long. His body was still fighting against Ronan's weight. Dagan had no time to stare in awe, for he had already known his friend's identity. He didn't have anything to say either. If Ronan wanted to end him, it was his choice. Technically, it wouldn't have been the first time.

It wouldn't have been a charming thing to see Dagan in this state. His mouth full of blood, his bangs slicked to his forehead with sweat. He knew he looked awful, but he didn't care.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

/* ------ right side ------ */

It was a moment Ronan had been waiting for for a very, very long time, Taking and melting that mask would have been the most satisfying feeling in his life, but instead, it made him sick, A pang piercing him in the heart as though he’d been shot by cupid’s arrow and had it forcibly removed. At first, he felt as thought he was hallucinating. Frozen with shock as he awed at the squirming mass underneath him. A silence comg from him as slowly steam would cover the goggles of the mask. Clouding over his eyes as his hands raised to wander Dagan’s face. Gentle now as he wiped the blood and sweat away with a sleeve while keeping him restrained. Feeling his face, he could come to the conclusion that none of it was in his mind and was instead all too real.

What made it so sickening was the fact that so many emotions hit him that he couldn’t figure out what he felt. Relief? Anger? Fear? Sadness? Disappointment? He didn’t know. But a soft “Oh my god.” escaped from the man. His own hands beginning to tremble at the realization that he almost killed Dagan for the second time. He dry heaved, stroking his cheek with a comforting thumb. Unable to act on his feelings of betrayal but instead, his own lovelorn weakness that had plagued him. The reason he was still going was here, he was alive. And it made Ronan break down as his everything began to tremble and shake. Running his fingers carefully through Dagan’s hair he allowed himself a minute to take everything in. Trying now to soothe that fearful look.

But then, he would pull Dagan’s head to his chest, cradling him like the most precious jewel in the world as he continued to try and understand. He didn’t know if he wanted answers. So he didn’t ask and questions. Instead, After some more time he unveiled his own face. Aware of the approaching sound of drones that he’d become far too keenly aware of before he carefully slid it over Dagan’s face instead. Hiding him from the nosiness of the press as he looked at him with only the most sincere look he could. One eye clouded and glazed while the other was red from tears that never fell. steaming from his cheek and sizzling. At least the facial scar didn’t do much to impair his appearance. Complete with longer, dark hair that hung in front to hide the injury it seemed.

“You’re a random pedestrian that got involved, and to protect your identity I’m covering your face with my mask.” he eventually asserted moving to stand while keeping Dagan hugged close in his arms. "You accidentally got caught between me and the Oni, and I'll be taking you to a hospital." he recited the story. giving him a stern expression now as he looked to the drone. Giving a forced but convincing smile as the cat seemed to finally escape the bag.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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  undisclosed.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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Ronan was too gentle. i want you to hate me as much as I hate you. Dagan couldn't force the words out though. His mouth was ajar in mild shock as the other acted so calmly about the revelation. It wasn't that he didn't know what to do, he just knew it wouldn't be wise to do what he had planned. Instead he remained frozen in Ronan's embrace. The warmth that radiated off of him only aggravated the existing injuries he had. The knife was still in his leg, though neither man made a move to grab for it. For as much as Dagan had grown to loathe Ronan, the reunion was momentarily sweet.

The nostalgia of it all had worn off, but Dagan's entire body ached. He was in pain. He didn't protest as Ronan cradled him close. He hadn't spoken to anyone, had anyone touch him in so long. His body was limp in Ronan's grasp. He didn't say anything until the other slid the mask onto his face, trying to give him a cover story. "I'm not going." He spoke bluntly. "I can't." He was supposed to be dead. Anyone with common sense would know he was meant to be dead. Dagan couldn't go to the hosptal. He had learned how to patch the Oni up before. Then applied those skills to himself. He didn't know what he would do now though. The mask was hot against his injured face, and he wanted to tear it off. He wanted to shatter it.

Instead he stared back at Ronan. "I can't go to the hospital," his tone had gotten a bit more frantic. He had propped himself up with his arms, positioning them just slightly behind himself. Dagan tried to push himself to his feet, but felt his knees buckle. He grimaced, pulling the knife out of his leg. He could leave still. Even if he could barely stand, he would have to find a way back. Ronan was showng the world his face. He's such a fucking idiot. Everyone will have it out for him now... Dagan's gloved hands grasped at the balcony railing, trying to use it to pull himself to his feet once more.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡