Hard To Be God.

[futuremyopia]

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FUTURE MYOPIA [n] The tendency to have a foreshortened temporal horizon with respect to considering the consequences of one's choices and behaviors for one's future self. Otherwise known as Temporal Myopia.

Indie multimuse blog written by Mori (30+, they/them) ft. Horror/SF based OCs, Kayfabe AEW characters, and Gorillaz.

21+ ONLY, minors blocked on sight.

Personal blogs do not interact.

@niratias is my real life partner.

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Afilliated with: niratias | marinashafirrp/itstaztvrp | piperafterdark

[piperafterdark]

She has no idea what a 'Vine' is. Too young, too not chronically online. For all the little grass there is left to touch she sure seems to like touching it. It's the madness of it all that brings a laugh from her anyway. Out of the kitchen and into the front of house the two go, Piper's hand grabbing his Much Too Large(tm) one to make sure he doesn't end up slipping for real this time as they dart between tables. And she kind of hates it, the few gasps of almost delight like this is some fun game, a LARP for their entertainment.

Some people, man.

She wishes it was cool air that met her when they end out in the front, standing among a walkway of people in one of those little side streets that have been turned into a pedestrian only zone. Ads glare down above them and Piper stops to gather herself but finds she doesn't quite let go of Orange's hand.

"Can lay low there." She points to what seems to be an… arcade? It's kind of hard to tell since there's no sign out front, but the hazy silhouette of claw machines through darkened windows is promising.

Or they're about to stumble into a Tyger Claw laundring scheme with cops on their heels. 50/50 shot if you ask her.

"You good a skee ball? You seem like you'd be good at skee ball."

[futuremyopia]

"Have you seen my hands? I can hold like five skeeballs in one of them," possibly true. He doesn't like how small her hands are in his,. speaking of, and he's gazing down at them with a blank expression. Determined not to have a crisis about the ONE THING he had going for his life and his gimmick being stripped from him, he follows her lead.

There's a click sound as his sunglasses retract, something new he's had installed he's been very eager to constantly show off before propping the door open.

He frowns immediately at the sight of boring tile instead of the fun carpet that glowed a bunch of neat colors under the UV lights that he remembers from when he was often getting wasted in a Jersey Shore bowling alley when he was way too young to be drinking. The machines don't even take tokens with the funny rat on them anymore.

"They have uh...the thing with the mallet. I did that once. But there was a guy and I was beating the shit out of him in it." This won't be the same. How disappointing. "Wait are we really gonna play games? I kinda wanna play some games..."

[niratias]

"Part of the job is letting people misunderstand me. Underestimate me. Write me off as complacent, tired, lazy. Then," he snaps his fingers, "I deal with them before they have the time to try me when they're stronger. I'm bait. In doing it, I keep the rest of you safer. Besides- this was nothing. That kid won't last a year without getting arrested flashing iron around as openly as he was. I've seen it a thousand times."

Mox is perfectly cool. He's truly not bothered by the hateful slurs, the rage slung his way. If he was, it would be obvious.

When did Orange start to care so much he doesn't even want to hear that vitriol aimed at his lover?

[futuremyopia]

"Fine," he concedes, though he sounds pissed still. He's closed off again, breaking his line of sight with Mox and looks anywhere else. "I don't agree with you. But you feel this way about it so whatever."

He would have done the same for Chuck- and had, and still will, if he ever had to. His image of Mox is perfection and if no one else understands that then they can die.

It dawns on him that Mox did the same thing to him. Doesn't mean he has to like it.

"I won't...talk about it anymore."

[futuremyopia]

SO WHAT IF YOU COULD SEE

SOMETHING SOMETHING INSIDE ME

[futuremyopia]

training @niratias

[futuremyopia]

her theme song is animal by three days grace

[niratias]

"I let people talk when I know they can't back up what they say. That means people come gunning for me and are, likewise, not strong enough to manage it. Then I make an example of them and dump their headless corpses in the Ohio. What's not to get?"

His hand drops away from his face.

"I get that you get angry at insults like that, but you have to let it roll off of you. I've been called worse. Will be forever. Some of it is even true. You're not obligated to defend my non-existent honor just because you fuck me, you know."

[futuremyopia]

Orange is very bad at hiding his anger. His hands shake, his breathing picks up, and he makes eye contact.

"I defend you...cause you're my boss. I don't...care...I'm not leveraging our relationship. You got honor, you're so fucking annoyingly humble about it and it makes me want to bite your head off sometimes," Mox is just as infuriating, they're so different and that's probably why they've worked so well. "When we're at work, we're at work. I'm not saying something because you're my sub or my boyfriend or whatever. I'm saying it because I respect you and I'm pissed they don't."

[ropewalked]

"Be honest. Does the vest make the outfit work? I went for "cool guy" but I feel like um...cool silly." @futuremyopia Orange -> Speeball

"I think it works!" Speedball looks Orange up and down, before giving him two thumbs up. "You do look cool! It's just...different! For you, I mean. But it's very unique and that suits you!" They nod.

The denim vest under the denim jacket with the denim pants was definitely a take on the Canadian tuxedo, but it wasn't one he was too mad at.

"Besides...I've never really taken you to worry about how anyone sees you," Mike tilts his head a bit, side to side for a moment. "If it does bother you, you can always change. I think you should try the vest without the jacket."

[futuremyopia]

"Ah this sucks," he's peeled off everything but his shirt and dumps it on the floor, not bothering to fish out the jacket. "Why is fashion so hard?"

it really isn't, but any attempt to try to do anything but the regular same shit. The only time he's worn something besides white, blsck, or blue it was a terrible photoshoot that ended up on a terrible book, and he will never talk about that unless someone managed to find said book.

And if they did, he would kill them.

"I don't. Care about what people think. Most of the time. Right now I really care about it..." Shit. Fuck. He didn't want to say that.

[bootpiglover2]

[futuremyopia]

tasty

[futuremyopia]

maybe i will bite the bullet and give the bipolar-bpd coded OC BPD with his bipolar

[futuremyopia]

I want to make it clear- I do not write orange as j.ames ci.pperly. I write him as if he was an original character that popped into my head. We can toe the line with RPF but I refuse to assign attributes to the real man vs the character he plays

[futuremyopia]

[niratias]

you're my favorite bad idea. - orange to mox

The thrum of music from the amphitheater across the river, hum of traffic noise, buzz of a dying neon sign behind them...this particular spot is where Mo.x tends to come when the world is too much and too loud but he still wants to be part of it. It may not be the rooftop where their life together began, but there's symmetry all the same.

Mo.x fishes his cigarette free of his lips, pinching it between two fingers and squinting at the cherry like the response he needs is hidden in its glow somehow.

"I thought your favorite bad idea was joining a fucking gang. I guess I got it twisted."

A joke. His fallback. If he doesn't know how to connect emotionally, that's his angle. It means he's vulnerable. Means it's real.

all-out party

[futuremyopia]

”I was in a gang. We just did like, charity instead of drug running or whatever,” the Conglomeration isnt comparable. He knows that. But it doesn’t matter.

“i feel like…” He should stop talking. “I feel like i am doing something worse than joining a gang. That's not the bad idea. I think. I just gave up. Thats…the bad idea.”

Hard to admit you stopped hunting your partner’s murderer and even harder to admit you fell for your main suspect. Part of him resents Mox for telling him the truth. There’s something that aches still that might not ever go away.

His codependency on Mox is so unbearably unhealthy and yet. He’s allowed to belong somewhere and he’s allowed to move on and he’s allowed to let himself love someone. God does he love him. If Mox didn’t dump him the night he fucked up in that parking garage, Cassidy’s figured out they’re likely stuck forever. That was probably decided when Mox kept wearing the barbed wire chain Cassidy gifted him.

“Not a bad idea. The only good one I’ve had in years.”

[theofaron]

Paradigm Shift

[niratias]

Gabe does not realize that is Mox's shirt. If he did, he wouldn't be able to say much, as he's got one of David's on his pillow back at his apartment. That would make him a hypocrite, and then he'd have all kinds of other embarrassing secrets come to light. Who has the time for THAT?

Gabe stays clear of the walls and doesn't bump any furniture, so outside of some messy footprints, he shouldn't leave much in his wake. The question makes him freeze, if only because Orange has likewise stopped walking and he is trying to avoid running into the smaller man.

"...Because you were closest, and it would be fucking stupid to be outside like this longer than I had to be. Shower. Now."

How many more times does he have to ASK?

Deciding he's waited long enough, Gabe pushes past Orange, leaving a bloody handprint on his shoulder and searching for the damn thing on his own. When he finds it, he starts stripping immediately, heedless of having an audience. He nudges the water running, turning the nob to hot.

[futuremyopia]

Whatever. Orange watches him leave, then pulls out his phone:

>Jon txt- hi txt- ilu txt- gabe at our house looks like got put in blender txt- make clrk come get him i dont like him here txt- K thx

He realizes, now his house is the Rider's house, no matter how much he hates the idea of people hanging around him. He's still trying to get used to the idea that he will have to put up with people he doesn't like.

Maybe he's starting to have some regrets.

While he hopes his shower will remain piss free while it's in use, he's scuttling to cover boot tracks and whatever blood's dripped wherever with a swiffer that's almost out of squirty juice. There's a singular towel, and when he realizes he doesn't like the concept of sharing that with his guest he's gone out of his way to toss an extra on the sink with a trash bag. His clothes are useless, he'll find a way to dispose of them. This isn't the first time someone mangled has ended up here.

"Did you get hit by a bus?" He's probably close enough on that guess when Gabe's done. He's also looking. He's trying to make it seem like he isn't by squinting. "Um. Are you broken?"

[clark-connors]

#gunsdown