Fantasy The Good, The Bad, And The Dirty

[morumana]

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

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

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OOC: This is a thread between cultmentality and I (morumana).

Plot: Muse A is a hero, they are loved by many people - hated by as well. None the less, Muse A tries to keep as many people safe as they can. Of course, it is a big burden on their shoulders as they have many enemies. Though one of them was the worst it seemed, and equal match though of course good always prevailed evil. Muse B had found themselves battling Muse A on the roof top of a sky scraper. Muse A got the upper man and soon enough the masked Muse B was strangely easily thrown down on the roof top. Muse A moved over to the struggling and tired Muse B, only to take off their mask and they never thought it would be their missing friend/brother/crush who they were fighting the whole time and had beat up so badly. The only thing they knew what Muse B wasn't their arch-nemesis. Because Muse A had witnessed Muse B being taken and killed by his arch-nemesis years ago. But if Muse B is pretending to be the said arch-nemesis, then what happened to the real nemesis he had fought so many times and was certainly stronger than Muse B.

Muse A: Han Ronan (Ronan Han)

It started as a hobby for a teenage Ronan. Dressing up in heavy-duty techwear for optimal motion and a half-face mask. And born with the seemingly god-gifted ability to not only jump at superhuman heights but to be able to breathe nasty flames, Ronan started as a mostly harmless vigilante. Yet over the course of time, it became less of a hobby to shove bad guys into jail cells and rather a job. Gone was the era of comic book characters in tight spandex. With Ronan, otherwise known as "Firefly" leading the surge of "supers" in their world his once bright and eager attitude began to slip from him. Like smoke in the wind. It was hard as a teen especially. With only one person he could fan out his woes to, the pressure became crippling. To the point nearly every night he'd return just to collapse on the couch of his best friend.

Once the happiest teen now became an exhausted husk of himself.

(-Not to serve as the opening to the RP, but rather the introduction to the character-)

SPECIAL THANKS TO THE PERSON WHO MADE THIS FREEBIE TEMP

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Dagan has always felt small and insignificant in the world he occupied. For many years he wondered: "What happens when you die?" He's never had the opportunity to answer such a mystery. Instead he continues to live every life, demeanor dripping with apathy. This isn't to say he's never held any regard for those he spends time with. Dagan has always been an envious man, though he tries to push that side of him deep down so he can relish in the company of friends he keeps. Formerly thinking that making a positive difference was worth it, he had been hardened and now almost unrecognizable to those who once knew him. Taking up residence in a space that is not his own, Dagan has continued on the legacy of someone he has been meant to loathe, deciding that this was a perfect way to spend his days.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

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

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

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

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It had been maybe three years since Ronan started this whole “vigilante” thing. Three years of voluntary crime-busting and painstaking effort for what? Fame? It wasn’t like he was making any monetary gain. When had it become so tiring? At some point that vigilantism grew into something more. Less of a hobby and more as a job versed in heroism. Some days Ronan would come back beaten down both physically and mentally. Others Ronan would be fine. But the man deemed “Hero.” was almost never happy with his position. Chin deep in his self made career Ronan felt as though he was wading in tar. Moving forward but only barely as the adoration of the people grew. He was sinking in it. Feeling as it invaded his mouth and nose and seeped into his lungs like a sickly infection. That’s what the love of others felt like to the hero. A virus that was bound to kill him if not spiritually, but actually.



The most draining thing wasn’t the work itself but the expectations shoved onto him as his celebrity status grew. Constantly under a camera, the Hero had to question every move he made, calculate every sentence. It was crushing when every little flaw would be picked and digested by an unforgiving audience. Consumed and dissected until there was nothing but his shortcomings.



It was a cycle in Ronan’s head. One that replayed even until this moment as he huffed out a massive puff of smoke. A drawback of his power. Being able to breathe fire was cool until the smoke and ash suffocated you. Puffing clouds helped lessen that feeling but he had to be cautious about how he did it. Holding a cigarette box in hand Ronan rubbed his shoulder, releasing the pressure that pulled at his neck and shoulder, Ronan made his familiar trek down the street. Patting himself of any ash that may have lingered, he finished his minimal tidy-up and began to hop up the steps to what had become like a second home to the Hero. And with a half assed knock the Man would enter the door. Sluggishly shutting it behind himself with a huff before he dragged himself in. Looking for that familiar face of Dagan.

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Dagan felt like he didn't have much to contribute to the world around him. He slept often, he had always been a little less interested in class. Until now. He felt like there was a purpose introduced to his life, although right now he wouldn't say that to anyone. He was picking the better sides of things. Dagan had always been somwhat cheerful, yes, there was a pessimistic outlook he held on life, but he was able to be cheerful enough. He had just worried that he would be seen. Dagan didn't want to be seen. He didn't want to be known by the public as anything other than a normal guy. Somene who was just there, sometimes at the right time other times at the wrong moments.

The sound of the knock on the door made Dagan raise his head, glancing toward the direction of the door. It was a familiar alert from Ronan that let Dagan know he was coming in. His days were often spent in classes, a local trade school ha caught his eyes and he began to pick up classes when he had the spare time. He had looked over at the other, blinking when he heard footsteps in the hall. "Hey," he called out from where he stood in the kitchen. He had turned his head, seeing Ronan waling inside. The other's presence was a relief, something he realized it was nice to have around.

That was the thing, Dagan tended to keep to himself, but Ronan's presence was calming. He had looked at the other with an excited gaze, though he didn't say anything for a moment. "What's it like out there?" As if the other didn't smell like smoke, even just slightly. "I was hoping to go for a walk but..." He was kidding, he just felt like something would lighten the mood.

who knows

joy again

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[morumana]

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

mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed

Han Ronan

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"Same old - Same old." Ronan found himself letting out. His shoulders and face were regrettably heavy as he began to walk further in. If there was one thing Ronan liked the most about his friend, it would probably be the normalcy that he offered. Normalcy was the one thing he couldn't see himself finding much of, so these small moments meant a lot to him, although they were so seemingly insignificant, even the smallest smile that didn't have any ulterior motive was enough to keep Ronan coming back, not to say there weren't good qualities about Dagan, but Ronan was certainly far more patient with him than anyone else in his life that wasn't family. Walking with a bit of weight in each step, The man would eventually sink ink into a rested position against the kitchen counter. Tugging his jacket off, the young "hero" would offer a shrug in response. "I'm not too sure, honestly. If you wanna go on a walk I can go with you." he offered seriously. His own smile peaking through although not as enthusiastic as the other.

He wasn't invulnerable, fighting hurt him too. And right now Ronan was definitely feeling that hurt. It presented as a sort of sluggishness, stemming from a fear to look weak to those he treasured most. If he couldn't be there to save them, what could they rely on? That thought process alone was terrifying. Every battle was different and sometimes he even burned himself in hasty attempts to end things quickly. "But while we are at it, you seriously need to lock your door. Do you know how dangerous it is?" he scolded, using a purposely harsh, nasally tone to attempt at sounding like a grandma or grandpa. He wasn't really sure what the voice was, but it was just an attempt at lighthearted banter.

"Oh-" he'd add on. "Do you mind if I spend the night? My Ma' would flip her lid if I came home like this right now." he asked. Setting his jacket beside himself before he'd cross his arms. Moving his eyes in an interested manner to what Dagan had been doing before Ronan just waltzed in.

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Ronan's attempt at a joke ade a warm smile come across the man's face. "Jeez, you sound just like my parents. My mom would have a stroke if she knew I wasn't lockin' the door." Soft laughter filled the room for just a moment. "You should sit down," he said. "You're moving like shit. It'll only worsen if you move around too much." Their eyes met for a moment as Dagan offered the other a friendly smile. He knew better than to act like Ronan was in perfect health. He wasn't stupid, and he knew that Ronan wasn't either. "Hm?"

Dagan chuckled again as the other requested to stay over. "Course you can. I figured you'd ask." There was a pause as he turned his gaze down to the now empty sink. At least he had managed to do his dishes. "Do you have any open wounds?" The question was casual, not as if he was expecting a gaping open sore or something that was gushing blood. Dagan worried, for his friend and his friend only. Without waiting for an answer, Dagan had already walked out of the kitchen and returned with a beat up first aid kit. Just in case. He really only held onto it for poor Ronan.

Surely Ronan wouldn't want his pity, but Dagan would readily give it. He sat in a chair beside Ronan, placing the first aid kit on the table. Dagan had already unzipped it, grabbing a few items out of it. "What happened this time?" He was always curious about Ronan's scuffles. Dagan knew about the other's job, if one could call it that. It fascinated him, but he was much too glad that he wasn't entangled in the web.

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 ------ */

“Sounds like both our moms need to relax sometimes.” The man would puff back. The minimal eye contact earned nothing but the same expression. No shyness, nothing awkward. He was comfortable. Leaning perhaps a little to close in the other would cock his head, smiling once more with fighting to maintain that eye contact. “And what if I don’t want to go sit?” He’d press. Only keeping that leaned posture until the other man walked away.

Reaching up to again rub the dip between his shoulder and neck, working at that soreness. he’d frown at the first aid. He always did. it was always a reminder that he wasn’t as strong as he needed to be. And that bothered him. “Put that away.” Ronan would insist softly. He was damn near rolling his eyes as he began reaching up to his shirt to casually unbutton a few down. Showing off a large bruise, it wasn’t open, and nothing quite looked or felt broken. He could breathe. Of course he wouldn’t show the rest of the bruises that wrapped around. On his neck, on his back, on his legs. But it was all fine. Things that he could live with. Things that would heal on its own. And he could stand couldn’t he? Continuing to lazily smile back Ronan would move to cover back up. Humming a little as he worked up until he got to the collar of his shirt which he left loose. “See? Nothin’ bad...” he trailed.

“Well. Nothing bad this time. I got whacked real good with a pipe. The guy didn’t have any significant power… maybe more strength than average but nothing I can’t handle.” He nodded. Pleased with his own answer as he pushed himself off the counter and gave a few confident strides. Landing next to his friend before beginning to collect the things he removed from the box. Putting it all back in before shutting it. Perhaps it bothered him that it had become a familiar part of their routine. Ronan shows up after getting his ass kicked, out comes the first aid without words, and he has to get patched up. It wasn’t “normal.” And he hated that.

“Maybe we should toss this friend out anyway. He’s seen some better days..” Ronan mumbled. Flicking the kit with his finger lightly.

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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The quick refusal of the first aid kit made the man roll his eyes. He had heard it all before, he didn't know what he was meant to say until Ronan truly showed that he didn't need someone to patch him up. "You can't be so against these things, Ronan," Dagan chided. "It's only natural to get hurt sometimes. You're in the middle of all these insane fights, I don't want you to end up fucking dead because of it." He looked at the bruise, sighing softly. "Fine," he relented.

It wasn't that he loved to baby the other, but there was genuine concern he held for the other man. He wasn't invincible. THat was the disdain that Dagan held for heroes, though he wouldn't say it. Anyone with some kind of excessive power... It just frustrated him. He didn't know what else he was supposed to say to say. Ronan wanting the first aid kit to be taken away made the man roll his eyes. "Ronan, that's insane. If you get hurt then you'll need someone to take care of you. Unless you want to go to the hospital?"

The glance he gave the other showed his open disdain at the thought. "It's not smart. You're fine though." He smiled over at the other in an almost comforting way. He was trying to be comforting. "I just worry," he said. He spoke easily, grinning over at the other. It wasn't at all meant to undermine the other, he just felt like the lack of self care Ronan displayed was outwardly worrying. He frowned a little bit, wanting to tell the other it was fine to need help. He didn't though.

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 returned the hounding with his own annoyed expression. Clicking his tongue and making “chit” noises every time Dagan continued. It was embarrassing, especially to hear what should come from his mother come from his friend instead. It was exactly what he came to escape from. “Aiyah…. Then should I just cry over every little injury?” he groaned. Slumping his posture once more. His shoulders came forward as he leaned his head back. Not bothering to look at either Dagan or the Med-kit as he thought to himself all the things he could say to plead his case. But realistically he didn’t have one. He knew he was being unrealistic with the request but he honestly didn’t want to hear the truth. Especially when afterward Dagan went on to try and be comforting. To Ronan it all felt fake, maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but it was driving him crazy. It wasn’t even the help that he hated. He didn’t mind getting patched up when he actually needed it but yet it felt like it was just unnecessary unless he required the patch up. He never outright lied about his body and the states he would be left in.

Adjusting his posture once more Ronan would pull his head back forward. Struggling to keep the smoke building in his lungs from escaping from his nose as he briefly grit his teeth. “Hey.” he’d eventually mumble. “Should I just get this whole face-reveal thing over and done with already?” he’d ask. Changing the subject he’d slowly lower himself into one of the chairs to the table as he decided that it really was uncomfortable to keep moving around, just like Dagan had said it would. “The press is slowly getting more and more on my case. It was hard enough to escape. They’ve resorted to drones now. Y’know that? I have to really try to lose them now.” He complained. Shaking his head.

“But that means I wouldn’t be able to come back to being normal. I’m already not. But I can't even act like I am if that happens. I can't disappear because people need me to come to the rescue but I’m scared.” he sighed. “I'm terrified of what’ll happen when they finally find out who I am. Because they will. They always find out. I just don't know if I should do it on my own terms or not.”

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Everything felt good, calm, and comfortable. Up until the other brought up revealing himself. Dagan frowned, looking at the other. "I really don't think you should." He knew that there were often times when the other had no choice, but he didn't want harm to come to the other man. "Something will happen, it's safer to just stay anonymous until you have to show who you are." He just hoped the other wouldn't have to do that. It terrified him. He knew that Ronan wouldn't appreciate Dagan's worry, but he couldn't help it.

"I know you're someone who's more than capable of taking care of himself. It's just..." Dagan hesitated. It could hurt Ronan's family, everything could fall apart. "I don't want anything to happen." He couldn't help the worry that began to seep into his tone as he looked at the other with tired, worried eyes. He wasn't trying to undermine Ronan, he never would. "Do they really have drones?"

It was a genuine, shocked question. "Can't you just..." He trailed off, frowning. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried." He frowned, "I guess I'm no better than a nagging parent right now."

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 just a moment of his stress taking over. It was often that Ronan would complain about the fights he got into, the lowlifes that he’d fight. But it was rare for him to stress out like this. Blowing off some steam perhaps a little literally as he sighed out again, calming down, he would listen to what Dagan would say. He had options. It was just the irrationality eating away at him and making him jump to conclusions. Balling his hands together as he set his elbows on the table, the man would rest his head against them. Bouncing his leg for a long time. Eventually just nodding to confirm that yes, there were drones that would follow him in and out of battles.

“Right… well.” Hed suck in a huge breath. Jumping back to his feet as he grabbed his friend’s hand. Tightly-gripped as he’d pull him towards himself. “Follow me.” He let out. Overly enthusiastic as he gave a smile. Much brighter than it had been in a long time. Full of excitement as he continued to motion. “Let’s go make a new mask. And a new costume.” He insisted. “I’ve just been wearing the same old clothes and it’s hardly durable. Or distinct. Since I can’t get away from this hero thing I’ll just go all out.” He wrinkled his nose. Eyes curling with that dumb smile.

“So let’s design it together. You got a pen and paper?” He asked. Looking around.

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Dagan hadn't expected Ronan to grab his hand, though his brows raised in momentary shock. "You think it's time?" He stared for a moment. Dagan couldn't hide his amusement at the other's excitement. "I've got a pen, yeah. Sit back down, jesus. You're all over the place." The words were affectionate. He carefully separated their hands and walked into the other room. He came back with a notebook and a few pencils and pens. It was safer to have some of everything.

He assumed it was good he was in trade school. For once, he would have access to materials that probably would be expensive. Call it a personal project and then say he had to scrap it. If the other wanted something to protect him, it should probably be sturdier than athletic fabric. Sitting back at the table, he tugged Ronan's sleeve and prayed he sat with him. "So what were you thinking? Do you wanna be that recognizable?" Not Ronan himself, but his supposed hero persona. The thought of the other being decked out in some kind of heroic garb was a little funny to Dagan.

"You'll definitely be what everyone's talking about if you show up in something new." He hummed softly as he began to sketch something simple out.

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 ------ */

“Trust me, I know. I feel like this job has made me bipolar.” He agreed. Carefully letting go of his hand after what seemed like a moment of hesitance. He was a bit of a mess emotionally, that much was true. But he liked to think that is was a good thing he was able to express himself like he was. “No point in being upset about it. I just gotta learn how to move past it. Fake it till i make it.” he explained. Following Dagan’s movement as he stepped out of the room.

Standing until his friend would come back, hed eventually give in to his request. Pulling a chair over and slowly sliding into it. But he kept up that energy. Taking his own pen and paper and leaning forward to begin sketching- albeit shittily. Art had never been his strong suit but he was trying. That’s all that mattered to him. The activity had him smiling like an idiot as he drew an oval to represent a mask. Looking to Dagan almost expectantly. “Do you know how to use hinges to articulate a jaw? Maybe I can get a mask that’s full coverage that opens at the bottom when i open my mouth.” He tried to describe. Tapping the pen on the page as he thought. “And i don’t wanna change my outfit too much. Something still dynamic but less… I don’t know.. Flammable? Maybe padded too, help lessen any blunt damage like pipes… god those hurt.” he snickered. “I don’t want something colorful or anything. I’m not trying to be out here looking like Shazam.”

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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The other asking him if he knew how to mimic a jaw made him nod. "I should know how... What would you want it to be made of though?" Dagan paused, pen poised in the air still. "We could try some form of metal, but it would depend on how hot your flames get. It could be dangerous, I'd hate for it to just melt off your face or something." He hummed softly.

"I s'pose I could look through what we have in scrap at school? What would you want for the actual body of it? I agree, something not flammable. I just..." He had fallen silent for a moment. "I'm trying to figure out the best material." He had finished drawing a rough sketch, nudging it towards the other. "What do you think of this?" He had handed the notebook to Ronan, looking at him curiously. "I don't think it changes things too much, and it'll add some more protective feature. Maybe then we can get rid of that," he pointed to the first aid kit. He was teasing Ronan now, but he figured it would probably be true.

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 ------ */

“Worst case scenario, none of the wounds will be very deep.” Ronan agreed jokingly. Taking the paper to look it over himself. It was a good sketch, unlike the goofy little stick figure he doodled onto his own page. He wasn’t jealous of his friend’s art ability, but he damn sure was impressed by it. Oogling over what the other had sketched with gleaming eyes. He liked the reinforced look that Dagan had given his outfit. He worried slightly about the weight, but he was sure he could make it work. “Metal would be terrible. I’m not immune to burns so the metal heating up could burn my skin and it wouldn’t be fun. I was thinking more among the lines of clay or porcelain, and maybe we can reinforce it to make sure it won’t shatter.” Ronan explained. “My current mask is made of resin. And it does its job. It’s just not comfortable.” he trailed a bit, sighing. “Resin doesn’t melt but it does break down when my face heats up, so now it's all brittle and feels hard and rigid. In a way that makes it feel like it’s scratching my face.”

Leaning back in his seat, he’d push the paper back to Dagan. Humming while rhythmically tapping his fingers on the table as he thought. “As far as the body goes, what about kevlar? Do you know where we can get that?” he smiled, looking away as he let his eyes shut. “Its heat resistant and light. Pretty durable too. I’ve seen the firemen use it when cleaning up after my messes.”

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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"No, no. I agree, there's no way we could do metal." Hearing the other bring up porcelain made Dagan frown a bit. "Maybe. The hinge with clay or porcelain may be hard... I don't know if I'd be able to make a porcelain hinging thing without it shattering." HIs face got a little warm, "I just... I get kinda impatient." Working with metal was his favorite because of the way it was easy, hard to damage. However, he couldn't risk Ronan getting burnt. He thought for a moment as kevlar was brought up.

"Probably." He would have to make a note of that, Dagan had written it down and looked back to Ronan. "It's not going to tear then?" He didn't want to risk it. "I was also thinking we could try and make a backup one? I wouldn't want you to have one get fucked up and have nothing. It wouldn't... Be the same exactly, but something lighter just in case." Dagan tipped his head toward Ronan. "I was wondering... When you'd need it by."

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 shrugged. “From what I understand Kevlar is pretty durable. That stuff is hard to cut.” He insisted. “And that’s from personal experience. Last week- that guy that called himself “the butcher” who swung those massive arm claws around like a maniac… he sliced down one of the firefighters who showed up. Except he didn’t. Barely got through the jacket.” He hummed. “Motherfucker got through my shit though. I’m glad he didn’t actually get my skin. That could’ve been rough.” He smiled. Looking to Dagan before it sheepishly fell off. Knowing he probably wouldn’t like to hear about how he constantly got hurt.



“I’m.. uh, I appreciate you helping me out with this.” He murmured sincerely. Reaching up to pat him on the shoulder. Physicality was neither of their strong suits. So it was a bit awkward as he began to smile yet again. “I have no rush. Take as much time as you need, I’ll leave it to you so just… surprise me.” He wrinkled his nose again. Slowly standing up with a stretch. “I trust it will look good if you make it. I don’t even want to see the final design till you make it and hand it to me.” He decided, starting to stalk off to the couch. The couch that he promptly dropped himself on with a small grunt. Shifting till he rolled into his side and really got comfortable. It was cold, but he didn’t want to bother his friend more than he already had.

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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If it was so hard to cut, then Dagan knew he would have a hell of a time trying to get it ready for use. How he was going to sew or attach the different parts. He didn't dare say that though, he didn't want to upset Ronan. He would figure it out. He knew he could, it would just take a bit of research. He had looked to the other. "If you're sure, then I'll look into it. I just don't want you to... It's good that we can find something that won't turn your ass into a furnace." Dagan would hate for the other to be in a metal suit and end up burning himself alive.

Feeling Ronan's hand drop onto his shoulder made Dagan's skin feel a bit warm. He had smiled over at the other quietly, trying to rein in his thoughts. Watching as Ronan walked toward the other room. "Jesus, you're just trying to flatter me." His words were teasing, but he did feel oddly proud of himself. "But are you sure you don't want to see it until..." His gaze trailed Ronan as he walked toward the couch. He supposed the answer was yes. Dagan had stayed in the kitchen for a bit, making a list of things he would need to get. That was what mattered right now. Making sure he had gathered all the proper supplies so that Ronan didn't end up dead the next time he was fighting someone.

That was how the next week continued. Dagan worked as best he could, trying to figure out how to put the suit together. He wasn't sure how long he had worked at it, but finally, it was complete. He had called Ronan over, telling him that the suit was finally ready.

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 ------ */

In that week Ronan hadn’t bothered to even so much as call Dagan. Keeping to his word that he didn’t want to see or hear about that suit until it was completely ready. It felt like a personalized gift, a sentimental one and it weighed so importantly on Ronan because it was Dagan who made it. Something about Dagan making it specifically made Ronan all giddy inside, and he began to work hard to not get hurt just so that there would be no injuries once he tried on the new suit. Aside from a few scratches and bruises that he couldn’t escape of course. The old ones still persisted as well, but they were so dull it was nearly impossible to tell the difference.



Respectfully he took to blowing off any steam before he entered, quite literally as he shrugged of the jumpsuit he wore in a alley. Carefully looking around for any drones before he unleashed a large blast of flame onto the jumpsuit. Incinerating the evidence as he usually did, seeing as usually by the end of his fights they were unusable. And once he was pleased with the little pile of ash on the ground, he reached up and fixed his messy hair. Slicking it back and taking off his old brittle mask.



Then he was on his jolly way. Pocketing his hands in the sweats he’d been wearing underneath. Hopping a bit with each step before he was back at the doorstep. And with three soft knocks, he announced his presence. Slipping in right after.

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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Ronan's absence was a bit irritating, but it was nothing Dagan wasn't able to cope with. Obtaining the materials was shockingly easy given the limited time he had to obtain them, Dagan felt a little better. Then finally, Ronan showed up. The familiar sound of footsteps on his front stoop made him sigh softly, rubbing the side of his face for a moment as he turned to the doorway.


"You could wait for me to actually open the door," Dagan teased. He had stood up and walked to the entryway where he saw his friend. "Come on," he said lightly. He had reached for the other's hand for just a moment to pull him along the pathway towards his room. He had stopped outside, before opening the doorway. "Here," he said. "It's in here. Just let me know if it's... I need to know what you think 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 ------ */

“Why wait when I can just come in now?” He beamed back. Gladly taking the hand Dagan held out with enthusiasm. Squeezing it firmly. Perhaps he found it endearing that his friend actually tried. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had come to terms with the possibility he would be disappointed. But he’d accept it regardless. It was less about the costume but rather what it would stand for eventually. Which made it more special to him.

Casting a glance to his side where Dagan stood, Ronan shook his head. “You know, you think a little too much.” He murmured, letting go of his friend’s hand with a small hum. “It will be fine, im pretty easy to please like that.” He admitted, crossing his arms as he turned to his friend. “I just appreciate it. Don’t beat yourself over something like this, because I’ll love it no matter how it looks. Okay?” He tried to comfort. Unraveling his arms he’s grip his friend’s shoulders firmly, giving him a small shake.

And with that, he let go, turning his attention to the room. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to see it right away, but seeing just how nervous his friend seemed to be, he figured it couldn’t hurt to get it over with. “Where is it?”

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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"Right, right." Dagan rolled his eyes as the other spoke about his thinking. His worrying. Dagan knew it was irrational, but it couldn't be helped. He had worked day and night over this suit. When it came to something like this, of course he'd be a perfectionist. "It's just... I want it to be good. If it looks shitty or isn't functional, then we both wasted our time." He frowned, glancing to Roanan. Now the other was radiating with excitement.

"Ronan just come on. Look at it already!" He had opened the door to his room, showing the other the suit that laid on his bed. "See? Here it is." He glanced back to Ronan with excitement and nerves fighting in the pit of his stomach. Oh my god... This is actually insane. What if he hates it? He glanced toward the other. "You should try it on," he said suddenly. "I wanna be sure it fits."

Small adjustments could easily be made. Something bigger would take longer. He had picked it up off of the bed, thrusting the suit and mask into Ronan's outwardly strethced hands. "If it doesn't fi I can adjust it, but we should know now. You know?"

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 fumbled to grab the suit and mask. Sighing out in relief as he caught it and properly adjusted it in his arms. Just feeling the fabric he knew it wouldn’t be too comfortable. But he could always wear something underneath. Taking a look at the mask, he’d raise it higher to his face, examining the hinge with squinted eyes. Mostly just pretending to nitpick as he turned slowly on his heel to step off to the bathroom connected to the room. Wordlessly, Ronan would shut the door behind himself. Quick to start undressing and redressing himself in the suit.

Well, there goes the “no skin-tight spandex” idea he was originally going with. It was tight, padded but tight. With interesting coloration and glass goggles built into a mystery material mask. The goggles were shaded, which helped hide his eyes far better than his last costume. That was a nice touch, he noted to himself. Fastening the mask on, he tested the jaw, opening and shutting his mouth. Ultimately pleased with it all, he gave a few good stretches. Feeling the range it offered. Maybe after a few good fights it would stretch out, but it would work.

Folding up his other clothes, He would awkwardly come out. Putting his things on the floor as he held his arms up to his sides. "It's great!" he let out enthusiastically. Eventually reaching up he touched at the mask. Stuffing his hair properly in as he faced Dagan. “A little help?” He asked. A smile behind the emotionless mask. Although it had its flaws, He really did like it.

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

© weldherwings.

 

[cultmentality]

Dagan Iman.

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The way the other had moved to go change so quickly made his brain feel like it was melting. Dagan wasn’t one to worry unless it mattered. The other’s dark eyes scanning every detail with scrutiny made his eyes widen in shock. “Are you sure it’s good?” He looked over at the other he was surprised that the other had walked into the bathroom to change. The other’s return made him smile a little bit. “It looks good on you,” he said. “But I can’t exactly see your face.” He paused before chuckling.

He had stepped toward the other, beginning go help the other out. He had tilted his head to the side. “You’re able to see out of the goggles, right?” Dagan tilted his head to the side, pushing his hair outnof his face. He held a hand up, sighing softly. “How many fingers am I holding up?” He was holding two fingers up. He had leaned nearer to the other before carefully removing the back. “Do you think you’ll fuck this up? Like… Do you think it’ll break?” He had winced at his own words.

“Christ, I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanna be sure that nothing breaks. I don’t… If your shit breaks then everyone could know and–“ He winced, frowning at the other for a moment. Humming softly under his breath before he began to set the mask aside. “I’m glad you trusted me to make it,” he said after a moment. He exhaled slowly through his nose and looked over at him. “It’s been good so far I think. You’ve been doing a lot of good shit, even if the town acts so freakish over it all.”

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 ------ */

“Seven.” the hero would joke. Nodding his head as he laughed to himself a bit. “No, I see fine. Two fingers. Skinny, piano-worthy fingers. Were they always that long and skinny?” he asked. Reaching out to pinch his index and wiggle it slightly. Just light teasing.

Ronan returned a small, giddy snicker. Seeing Dagan so nervous was incredibly off-brand of the other man. “Look at you-” He let out, raising his hand to rest his palm against the other’s forehead. Pushing him back as he got a little too close for comfort. Well, way too close for comfort. It was a moment like this where he wished he could always wear a mask, just so that he could hide his face as he got embarrassed. Managing to keep an unbothered expression, he'd smoothly allow the heat that pulsated from his face to cool, He glanced away, playing absently with some loose fabric. “Getting worked up over nothing.” he finished his sentence. Taking the mask back after a moment to hold. Rubbing it over with a thumb as his eyes filled with a sort of sentimental joy. “It’s really not like you to get like this, yknow?” he continued. Letting out another soft laugh.

“But you have a point. Let’s see.” He hummed. Suddenly using his elbow to nudge Dagan a small distance away. Raising his hand in front of his face. Sucking in a short breath before he would puff out a small flame. Effectively engulfing the material and shaking it until it dissipated. Leaving his arm to smoke yet not smolder. Nodding his head, he’d then hold his hand back out to Dagan. “ Looks like it worked just fine.”

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

© weldherwings.