You can call me None ✨️ Any pronouns ✨️ occasionally 18+ content ✨️ pfp by @sweetsweetemo ✨️ Main/reblog blog is @thecreatureinthedark ✨️ Art/OC sideblog; i interact more on my main, i only made this for organization purposes. and to ramble abt my ocs. pls ask me abt my ocs i promise ill be sooooooooo normal and hinged-
having Thoughts abt Ariel and Ricardo again. idk if i can actually sit down and write today (feeling a bit under the weather) but i do wanna ramble so i decided to make a lil headcanon list instead, things that may or may not make it into future fics
Ariel responds Badly if someone flirts w him directly and he's not interested in the person. my headcanon is that Ortega flirted first, got stonewalled HARD, gave up on it. then a few months and life threatening situations later Ari realizes "ah shit fuck noo is this attraction??? WHY DO I WANNA KISS HIM????" and he was the one who had to awkwardly start the flirting again bc he cannot handle the pining. and i dont think Ortega has ever let him forget abt it-
the Psychopator fight was indeed their actual first kiss, a little while after the flirting got reinstated as their new normal. however Ari is Weird abt physical contact, and even after they started kissing he kept Ortega at arm's lenght as much as he could. it's only after the Catfiend fight, when he sees Ricardo almost fucking die in front of him, that he becomes much more open to physical affection in their relationship
Ari mostly learned how to care for his hair from Themmy. it started w tips and tricks, routines, products, and somehow ended w Themmy cutting Ariel's hair on a regular basis bc he HATES hair salons, and doesn't rlly think barber shops are much better. Ortega watched this happen sometimes, curious despite himself bc pre-Catfiend fight Ariel did Not let him touch his hair as much as he let Themmy do it and Ricardo was lowkey jealous of it
one time, still pre-Catfiend fight, Themmy was unable to cut Ari's hair for wtv reason for a while, and it ended up growing long enough to start bothering him. Ricardo offered to cut it himself on a whim, mostly so he could have an excuse to touch it and fully expecting Ari to refuse, but jokes on him bc Ariel was just desperate enough to accept. he did a somewhat decent, if mediocre, job despite panicking the whole time, and Themmy fixed what was wrong later. over time that incident ended up morphing into Ortega also being the one to cut Ariel's hair on a semi-regular basis; he got fairly good at it (helps that Ari found One haircut that he liked and sticked w it for... his entire life basically. he still keeps that same haircut to this day, which is just "short enough to not be a sensory nightmare while still letting his curls form and go wild")
Ariel treated Ortega's book collection like his own personal library since day 1. books just started going missing for a few days or weeks before returning to their place, w a new one going missing in its place. Ortega kept quiet for a while even after connecting the dots, until they were close enough that he could call Ariel out on it without sending him running for the hills. there are definitely a few books that had been borrowed around the time of Heartbreak that Ortega never got back
during the Nanosurge recovery, Ortega's apartment became a bit of a safe haven for Ari, despite it being right in downtown LD. there were periods when he wanted to be alone to heal in peace, then he'd stay in his own apartment near the edge of town, but mostly he liked holing up in Ricardo's apartment. there were books there, and good food, and he didn't have to worry abt reading his thoughts when he was home. it became a bit of a routine for Ricardo, getting home to Ariel curled up on some corner of the living room, reading or journaling while listening to some emo music on his ipod
its not wip wednesday anymore and i do not care, wip whursday time bitch-
im working on the Julian & Julia oneshot i started a while back. and.
He was taller, just enough that she had to tilt her head backwards slightly to be able to look him in the eyes. It was still an uncommon experience, especially with Julian standing so close, enough to give her a vague sense of vertigo. His eyes were black, dark enough that sometimes she couldn't even tell where his pupils started and his irises ended. Soulless, he had told her once, with a breezy laugh that screamed indifference.
Ortega couldn't disagree more. Especially now, close enough that she could almost see specks of brown in them despite the low light. Always so closed off, mysterious in just the right way, now oddly open, a vacuum she could lose herself in.
He smelled of sweat and jasmine.
"What's your problem?" He cleared his throat, looking away as he took a small step back. Julia almost thought he looked flushed, embarrassed.
Julian hums, looking away as he thinks. One of his hands fidgets with a strand of his hair, wrapping and unwrapping it around a finger. There's the beginning of a playful smile at the edges of his lips when he faces you again. "Well, that's a pretty broad question, isn't it? I suppose flying would be nice. Growing wings, seeing the world... I always did want to travel. Los Diablos can become quite small when you've wandered it tip to tip."
His smile falters, black eyes dulling as his mirth dampens. "But, if we're being serious... I want the tattoos gone."
heya! i've been doing fine, getting ready to give university another shot and trying not to freak out too hard over it lol; thanks for the ask!
💌 if you could write a love letter to one person, what would you write and to who?
Leo's crooked nose scrunches up slightly in confusion. "Why the fuck would I do that? That just sounds embarrassing. If I wanna tell someone something I can just, I don't fucking know, like, tell them? Or something..." He trails off, looking away and furrowing his brows. His cheeks begin to tint pink, thoughts straying towards a certain blonde flier. He snaps back to reality a moment later, glaring at you as if you're the reason for all of his life problems. "Why the hell do you wanna know anyway?! Did Ortega send you? I already told him I don't do all that mushy shit." He huffs, crossing his arms.
🏆 have you ever won a trophy for anything?
Leo opens his mouth, looking like he's ready to tell you to fuck off, but ends up closing it again. He looks to the side with a distant expression, biting one of his nails as he thinks. "Well, I mean-", he stops himself, eyes growing misty for a second before he schools his expression back into a scowl. "There was one time, but it was long ago. I won a skateboarding competition, what, eleven, twelve years ago now? Dunno." He shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant. "I got a, like, tiny sculpture, I think? Something homemade, with clay and one of those little keychain skateboards... It was stupid, anyway. I went everywhere on one of those things back then." There's a snort he can't hold back, fighting back a smile. "They tried to take my picture, for posterity or whatever. Lucky them Themmy and Sp... Ortega was around, I was ready to kick that kid's face in when they started insisting."
🤳 whats the last selfie you took?
Leo barks out a laugh, short and mocking. "As if I'd ever trust technology enough to do something like that. I'm stupid but I'm not an idiot, alright?" He shakes his head, annoyed at your naivete. "Pics can spread way too fucking easy. If I ever did do anything like that, it was way, way back." His lips stretch in a wry smirk, sharp and self-loathing. "Y'know, back when I still had some innocence to lose."
today for wip wednesday: i offer you a glimpse into the mind of my specialest boyfailure (Leo), aka the start of the new goddamn wip i started instead of working on any of my other existing wips
Stealth was never his specialty. He could be fairly good at it when he had to be, they made sure of that, but that didn't mean it was one of his "innate talents", if he even had any of those. He wasn't keeping count, but he was pretty sure he had made mistakes, and if his opponent had observational skills that weren't that of a dead fish he'd probably have been caught already.
Thankfully, that was not the case with Mateo Miller, or "Invincible" or whatever the fuck he called himself. Some stupid name for a stupid man, and really even without his telepathy Sidestep bet that he could have found out his secret identity easily - who the fuck genuinely believed that a diamanté mask and nothing else was enough to keep them from being recognized anyway?
Or maybe he just didn't care enough. Sidestep scoffed as quietly as he could, hot breath hitting the bandana he kept tied around his face. Also not ideal, but that paired with some stolen goggles and a hood kept his identity way more protected than some other dumbass vigilantes. If they could afford to be found out like that they shouldn't invest in masks in the first place, especially not stupid ones that kept most of their face visible anyway.
Someone raised their voice, not a scream but getting close to one. Sidestep adjusted his position, peering from the corner he was crouched behind. Mateo, or Invincible or whatever - the idiot was standing in front of a small crowd of protesters, towering over most people in that dumbass bright brown and purple skinsuit, one hand resting on the holster attached to his hip. A threat display more than anything, Sidestep already had some run-ins with the asshole and knew from experience that he was a terrible shot.
No, dear Mateo relied a lot more on his powers to pull through most fights. Some combination of invincibility and strenght, though Sidestep had seen him bleed and retreat more than once over superficial damage, so it really wasn't anything special. An idiot who got mildly lucky with a suicide drug and decided to make it everyone else's problem.
Sidestep held back a groan, feeling the protesters growing uneasy, some holding signs, something about disability rights and making the city more accessible to veterans and the like. Invincible had always been an asshole, a prime example that some people only want to pick a fight. He could see the LDPD car parked a block away, watching the commotion with clear amusement, and it only made him angrier.
Invincible had been missing for weeks, ever since getting buried under layer upon layer of rubble after getting caught in the middle of an unfortunate quake. Did it make Sidestep a bad person that he hoped Mateo had died there? The anger running in his veins didn't care. He was tempted to finish the job himself.
There was a rock in his hand before he could even think through what he was doing. A big one, bigger than his palm, and heavy. He threw it up, once, twice, judging its weight as he caught it on the way down. The commotion was starting to grow, some protesters with bigger balls than Invincible could ever wish to have standing up to him, waving signs as weapons, flimsy as they might be.
Mateo's stance shifted, subtle, threatening.
The LDPD stayed put.
"Fuck this", Sidestep muttered to himself, stepping out of his hiding place and throwing the stone straight at the back of Invincible's head. Hard.
It hit its target with a satisfying TWACK, leaving a bloody wound in its place. Any normie would have fallen over dead or knocked out, but Invincible only snapped his head forward and stumbled a few steps. The protesters did the wise thing and got out of his way.
"Hey Bootlicker, come fight someone your own size, fucker!" He yelled, changing his stance into a offensive one, getting ready for a fight. He could feel the way the atmosphere immediately shifted, the relieved, some happy, thoughts from the crowd contrasting with the immediate annoyance coming off of the Bootlicker.
He hadn't been doing this for very long, three months at most, but it was clearly long enough that he was doing some kind of impact. The fact that he was starting to get recognized amongst certain groups of people, enough to make them happy with his mere presence... He didn't know how to feel about that.
"You." Mateo turned around, slow like always, face twisted into a sneer, and yeah, maybe Sidestep had exaggerated a bit on the whole "your own size" bit, but it was the intention that mattered. "The little shit."
"In the flesh." He hoped his smirk came through in his voice even if Mateo couldn't see it through the bandana.
Bootlicker raised a hand to the back of his head, gloved fingers coming back stained red. If looks could kill, the glare he aimed at Sidestep in that moment would have had him buried 6ft under in a second.
"You're going to regret this." Mateo promised, his attention fully focused on Sidestep now. He towered over the other vigilante, at least a head and a half taller and with the width to match.
Sidestep held his ground, having to look up to maintain eye contact. He hated it, but it was a good way to show he wasn't threatened, despite the nervousness he could feel in his bones. He wasn't scared, he had fought Invincible before and came out on top.
He wasn't scared.
There was just something different.
"I highly doubt that." Sidestep snorted, switching stances from offensive to defensive as Bootlicker got closer. There was something wrong, some itch at the back of his brain he couldn't scratch, something responsible for the uneasiness in his limbs. "Considering it's you we're talking about here."
Must be the adrenaline.
"Exactly." Mateo smiled, cocky and angry and a terrible conversationalist. His thoughts were dense, hard to read like they always were, but Sidestep still saw the punch coming from a mile away.
He dodged, of course, stepping into Invincible's space and aiming for a punch in the stomach, quick and brutal. Sidestep always had to hit harder to do any level of actual damage to the idiot, but it should be enough to at least get him stumbling.
What Sidestep did not expect was the feeling of trying to punch a brick wall.
The pain that irradiated from his knuckles up his arm would have been debilitating had he been human. Mateo didn't stumble, didn't move - went for a grab that Sidestep dodged at the last second, putting some distance between them with a desperate roll to the side that had him gasping in pain when he tried to put weight on his right hand.
It was hard to see with the fingerless gloves he wore, the pain gate tuning down his body's alarm system to a dull throb. He couldn't move three of his fingers, wrist broken or sprained if he had gotten lucky. He knew there was blood, the warm stickiness of it running down into his sleeve. That would be a pain in the ass to heal.
Bootlicker laughed, cruel and sadistic.
So that's what was different. Mateo's thoughts weren't just dense anymore; they were almost solid, a natural wall forming around his mind that made it even harder to read, bouncing off Sidestep's probing thoughts like bullets off armor.
"Ah," Sidestep muttered to himself, getting to his feet as Bootlicker started walking towards him, "shit."
i feel like Cynder and Ariel deal w the same general theme, but in opposite directions
they both have something going on when it comes to Fate. but its very different the way they see it, how they deal w it
Cynder finds a lot of comfort in the idea that everything is premeditated. they can trust someone, or something, else to take the reins, be it some supernatural force or even just the love of their life. in FHR i think a lot of what they do comes from the feeling that they just can't not do anything. they might be a villain but they very much still think like a hero; if this is the way they can save the most people possible, that's just what they have to do. that's their role. and they won't survive it
it's... comforting, in a morbid sort of way, to think that they'll die some sort of martyr. their life never mattered much more than that of actual people. they deserve it for the things they've done, no matter how merciful they actually are as a villain. they're fine with falling. they just wish the landing to be soft, but they know they don't really deserve that kind of comfort
Ariel however. oh he HATES being tied down. by anything. he will fight tooth and nail against anything or anyone that implies that he's not in control of his own destiny. he's constantly trying to swim against the current, determined to prove everyone wrong, determined to live and to see the consequences of his actions through no matter what. even if he knows he will lose, he's not going down without a fight. stubborn to a fault, and contrarian to boot
FHR itself seems to have an underlying theme of fate and premeditated events going on. both in a meta sense but also in the story itself. Ace and their premonition power, the "no matter what roads you take, it all ends the same" part of the text that happens when you crash the car. even how no matter what your profession is you always follow roughly in the same footsteps, the same missions. again, some of this stuff is very meta, but then there's also how Ace looks at fate motivation Sidesteps in the eye while you're watching their final moments
the narrative, Sidestep themself, no matter their motivation, wants you to believe that what is happening in it is inevitable. no matter what road you take, they will all arrive at the same place. i don't really have a point to any of this, just rambling abt an aspect of the game i find fascinating. how everything seems premeditated and how that affects Sidestep's own sense of self, of autonomy
