'Tis the season to talk trauma. How did Rafael confront Heartbreak during the Heartbreak Incident? (If you know, what HB Scar does he have?) How does this manifest in his personality and thought process?
Hey, didn't see your message there...Ok. During The Heartbreak Incident Rafael searched through his feelings and offered up his most precious one: Friendship, to Heartbreak on a silver platter in order to save his friends. He ended up shooting Heartbreak MULTIPLE times before being forced to turn it on himself...and the rest is history. -His HB Scar is 'Friendless' and it shows. Its what makes his feelings of betrayal run so deep, because it was TOTAL: Relational(Ortega and Chen never cared about me), Ideological(The heroes, my comrades, serve my masters and left me to die), Structural(I was never a person to my friends, only a tool. A sidekick. They never cared about Rafael the person.) and Moral(Everything I believed about the world was wrong.). -Personality-wise it manifest in low-level derealization(Which makes feelings of anger that much more potent), RABID PARANOIA (Manifest as being overprepared) and an inability to trust ANYONE despite wanting to(He subconsciously self-sabotages his relationships because he fears being hurt again).
After months of hardly getting out of bed, months of fighting the agency’s insurance plan, months of insisting that the hero’s condition was, in fact, service related, they were finally getting a custom wheelchair delivered.
Today, they got their independence back.
The doorbell rang and Hero had never moved faster on their cane, rubber tip taps and accompanying footsteps echoing through their entryway as they reached the door. Opening it, they were greeted with a beautiful sight. A smiling worker stood behind their brand new chair.
The rigid frame was coated in a metallic blue, with shining push rims to match. Black metal completed the footrest and backrest support, blending into the black wheels and side guards. It looked sleek; It looked perfect.
Waved in by the former hero, the worker lifted the caster wheels over the door frame, pushing the chair up and inside before locking the small silver brakes.
“You ready to take her for a spin?” They asked, and the hero grinned from ear to ear. They took a seat, sliding back till their hips were settled. The worker pointed out the buckle and Hero clicked it shut.
“Safety first,” they nodded and the worker chuckled in response.
Brakes unlocked, they pushed, and they glided like they were on a cloud.
They sighed at the ease of movement, moving down the hallway with little pain. It had been so long since they could just move. They missed moving just for the fun of it, for the rush of wind in their hair and adrenaline coursing through their veins. They missed jumping across rooftops, turning their feet on a dime, climbing walls, and starting fights that they could actually win.
Overwhelmed with the return of that feeling, they found themselves increasing their speed more than what may have been advisable around the house. Consequently, when they tried to turn around, they clipped the doorframe, leaving a scuff mark on the plaster and a slight damper on their confidence.
“Takes a little getting used to,” the worker assured.
Hero continued, slightly abashed at their excitement. The worker watched, then suggested they raise the footplate a little to accommodate Hero’s thin soled shoes. After a moment with an Allen wrench, Hero was properly fitted into their new wheelchair.
Now, it just needed a name.
In their time as a Hero, they had practiced restraint when fighting countless villains. They never aimed to maim or hurt more than necessary, even if the villains pointedly did not return the favor. Ever since being forced to retire, Hero carried that sentiment into their civilian life too. However, there were times when they wished to be a little petty. Sometimes, when people blocked ramps or stared at them a little too judgingly, they wished warm pillows and bad hair days upon them. Their prayers for minor inconveniences rose especially when they saw news of a certain villain, who Hero suspected to have a set of very crushable toes.
Maybe, Hero would have to pay them a little visit, with the help of the brand new Metatarsal Muncher.
They couldn’t wait to get out of the house, to be able to function on a daily basis. They were going to get groceries, get out to retirement-events, go outside with a sense of focus not being spent on trying to stay upright, shop without a mind clouded with pain.
If only it hadn’t taken them this long to accept what they needed.
The worker showed them how to disassemble the chair. The ultra-light wheels came off with a button press in the middle, the cushion was removed so the back could fold down. Hero got to assemble it back themselves and, satisfied, the worker bid them goodbye with some maintenance and care instructions.
Far too excited to wait, the former Hero loaded their chair into the car and headed for the park, thrilled to go watch the robins and blue jays hop between the trees. Once, the former hero had envied their freedom, the ease with which they traveled and lived their lives. They had wished they could soar above the sky and dive down back to the ground. Now, as they followed the smooth concrete path through the oaks and the birches, they made peace with their own kind of freedom.
It may not look the same as it once did, but life moved on.
If they had earned nothing else in their time as a hero, it was the right to live their life in the least amount of pain possible. Despite any reservations, they would use this tool to help them, and if anyone had a problem with that, they would meet the wrath of the Metatarsal Muncher.
acloudyskye is a relatively small electronic music artist, digital artist, and animator largely known in the "FORM" artist community.
He blends this style of super suspenseful and emotional melody with cinematic drums and roaring synth drops that gives his music a larger than life feel. The lyrics are often vague but bring such a weight to the song when put in context with the melody.
Along with his music he's also been building a world through his animation. The animation style rings as a sort of PS1 era graphics paired with a overgrown post apocalyptic setting that's so pretty to look at. He's only made a few shorts so far, but he's slowly building a world and a rich story through his music and animation. You can check them out on his youtube:
Despite being a relatively smaller artist, talk to any one of his fans and they're a dedicated one. Not one song unlistened to. Everyone eagerly awaits the next release to delve deeper into this world. Fans from everywhere we're inspired to make fanart of all sorts. One of possibly the biggest projects came from the beat saber moding community:
For those that have never played beat saber before, it doesn't normally look anything like this. This was all handmade, modeled, timed, for this one song. For this ONE experience. This map became the highest rated beat saber map of all time almost overnight. This is the kind of stuff acloudyskye inspires
There's one song in particular I want to point specific attention to:
(If you're not wearing headphones or listening on good speakers, you should try to)
This song consistently stays top of his most listened, and for good reason. It feels like a panic attack. The one line right before the drop is so jarring to me - "...Gasping for air as I fall through the ground"
"as I fall through the ground"
It's as if you expect you can't go any lower. You've reached rock bottom but instead of feeling the ground below you you fall into the infinite, further below.
Thank you for reading, acloudyskye truly is something special :)
Villain grit their teeth. Of course they didn't know.
The building behind them roared, flames rising higher with the wind.
Years of work gone to waste in the blink of an eye.
Villain looked to the hero and their anger abated just slightly. They were still new, their mind fresh and malleable, yet to be poisoned by the lies and corruption that ran rampant at their beloved agency.
So Villain told them. Not for the first time, Villain spoke of tragedies covered up by the agency, mistakes buried under files of false reports. They touched on a theory of memory manipulation, though it was clear they were certain it was true.
Hero listened as the flames rose into the night sky.
~
"You let them get to you," Other Hero said. There was pity in their eyes as Hero stared them down.
"Is it true?" Hero asked again. They were desperate but determined. They had to know. Everything Villain had said could have been lies - a ruse to get them to join their side. Hero didn't want to believe it, but the grief in their enemy's eyes had been real.
The agency had done something to them and Hero needed to know what it was.
Other Hero shook their head sadly. "I'm sorry, Hero."
Hero's heart sank. They barely had time to dodge.
~
"You naïve fool."
It wasn't the first time Hero heard those words, but it was the first time they'd heard it in that tone. They struggled to steady their breathing, but it was hard when their lungs felt like they'd been lit aflame.
Villain worked on their injuries with a meticulous focus. They were furious, but their hands were steady, every movement quick and precise.
Hero took a few more wheezing breaths. "...I know where the records are."
Villain froze.
"O-Other...Other Hero..." the younger gasped. "They-"
"Enough." Villain set a hand on Hero's knee, the touch gentler than Hero would have thought them capable. "Save your breath."
They could talk once Villain was sure their new protégé wasn't going to die in their lair.
Random prompt #27
TW: blood, corpses, implied blackmail, manipulation, implied murder
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"My, my, dear hero. I didn't know you had such a taste for blood," Villain laughed as they leapt down from their perch on the side of the building.
They circled around the so-called savior like a hawk, heeled boots clicking against the cold pavement of the now blood-stained alley. The villain hadn't seemed to mind the body of their Righthand and a few henchmen laying not too many feet away, crumpled and beaten to a pulp. They were much too focused on the now frozen in shock hero.
"It'd be a shame if this were to get out to the public, no?" The question was asked as Villain stopped in front of them, that annoying clock-like tick from their boots heel finally stopping. "One of them was an innocent."
Hero remained glued to the spot, their bloodied hands shaking at their sides. They would be ruined if anyone found out - outcasted, hated, disowned, thrown out. Hell, maybe even killed by their own team.
Their widened gaze snapped from the villain's challenging gaze to the corpses piled at the back of the alley. They had killed them. An innocent civilian with not one connection to the fiend in front of them, died because they didn't think before engaging a fight.
"I can already see the headline: 'Hero Gone Unhinged, Resulting In The Death Of A Mere Bystander'." Villain continued, their smug look merely increasing ten-fold. "Your career is done. Kiss your title goodbye,"
Anger flashed in the hero's eyes and they took a step threatening step forward. Their enemy merely smiled, expression now fond as they copied the action. "Unless," They purred, head tilting to the side with a Cheshire Cat grin.
"You join me, and then nobody needs to know about this slip-up of yours, hm?"
"...I'd be a villain either way."
"You take my deal and you live as a powerful outlaw with even more powerful connections, or you crawl back to that agency of yours and live as a disgrace of a hero when the truth comes out." Villain retorted, tapping their heel a few times.
"The clock's ticking, dear hero."
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The hero should not have been patrolling the streets.
Why?
Because they were not a hero—no, they were retired. Instead of sliding through the shadows of the night, they should have been curled up at home, under warm blankets with a cup of tea to soothe their lungs.
They were not good at denying the urge when it came, pulling them out of comfort into the chill night air.
The hero was turning a corner when a muffled shout set all their senses on edge. It took them a mere moment to pinpoint the location: from the right, across the street. The hero sprinted across towards the hulking warehouse and rounded towards the back. They slowed, peering cautiously around the corner to gauge the situation.
Bulbs along the top edge of the warehouse that usually would have lit up the scene were dark. Three shapes were just barely illuminated by light leaking in from the street and surrounding buildings. One of the shapes, their back to the hero, held up what was unmistakably a gun. The other two had their hands up over their heads. Behind them the large delivery gate was open, a truck backed up to the ramp for the unloading of goods. The hero could just make out the words “Crystalline Heartz” on the side of the truck. A jewelry and gem company.
“You’re going to turn around and walk towards that wall,” said a voice.
The hero’s heart jumped in their chest. No way. There was no mistaking that voice, and now that they looked closer… the robber’s stance and body shape was very, very familiar.
Suppressing a curse, the hero crept closer until they were almost right up to the robber. In one swift motion, they attacked from behind and twisted the gun away so it clattered across the blacktop. The robber turned and swung, but the hero dodged and drove a fist into their abdomen. The hero grabbed the robber’s collar and hauled them close. The eyes the hero knew so well widened behind the holes of their mask as they made eye contact.
“Get out of here,” the hero hissed, and let go.
The robber snatched up the gun, and fled. The hero bent over as if they had been hurt, and yelled a hoarse “hey!” at the back of the retreating figure.
---------
The hero returned home two hours later. They’d had to wait until the authorities had arrived, and then there had been a statement to give and stiff, awkward pleasantries to exchange with some of their ex-colleagues.
Now, they opened the door to their flat and slammed it behind them. The hero stormed into the living room, and stopped at the sight of their partner slouched on the couch, working on their laptop.
“What the hell was that?” the hero snarled.
Their partner looked up, their smile hesitant. “Hey, honey—what’s wrong?”
“Don’t lie to me,” the hero snapped, tossing aside their jacket. “You don’t think I can recognize the person I’ve loved for eight fucking years?”
Their partner stared at them, expression closed, then looked away. “You said you were going to be late at the office.”
“Is this what you do every night I’m late at the office? Did you never really stop?”
“Well, obviously you’re not at the office every night, are you?” their partner accused.
The hero’s heart beat loud in their ears. “I wasn’t—I what? This isn’t about me, [Partner]. Answer the question.”
Slowly, deliberately, their partner sat up and set their laptop on the table. Their jaw worked before they finally said, “It’s—this is recent. This was just the second time.”
“The second—what the fuck? Why?” The hero’s voice cracked on the last word, and suddenly they were coughing: painful, hacking coughs that tore through their throat.
Their partner sprang to their feet. “I’ll make you tea—”
“No, sit down,” the hero gasped. They stepped towards the couch and sank onto the far end. “Explain.”
“I get angry, okay?” Their partner said, voice tight. “You heroed for the agency for a decade, a decade, and the moment they hear you’ve got cancer, they just let you go! Didn’t even try to offer you a position within their admin, just slammed the fucking door! And now we’re stuck with jobs that we both know aren’t enough to pay the hospital bills, the insurance is shit, you say it’s alright but you know it’s not, and I just thought—I just—we need the money somehow.”
“And you think,” the hero started, their voice now dangerously low, “that petty villainy is going to get us that? What am I supposed to do when you get locked up? How is that supposed to help? You wielded a gun, for fucks sake!”
“It wasn’t loaded,” their partner mumbled.
“It doesn’t matter!” The hero stared at their partner, breathing heavily. “If I wasn’t there, if you had been caught, I...”
They buried their face in their hands.
“I’m sorry,” their partner whispered. “I realize it was a terrible idea. I’m—I’m so sorry.”
“You can’t do things like that,” the hero muttered.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
The hero looked up at their partner. Their arms were wrapped around their torso, and they looked on the verge of tears.
“Please don’t be...” their partner licked their lips, then started to rise. “I’ll go make you tea.”
The hero caught their partner’s hand and pulled them back down beside them. Their partner sat rigid, eyes fixed upon their joined hands, as the hero used their other hand to roll up their shirt and traced the bruise forming there. “I didn’t mean to hit you so hard,” the hero murmured.
“It’s okay. I’ve had—had worse.”
At the thickness in their partner’s voice, the hero looked up. Their gaze traced over the tears that were falling now, the tightness in their partner’s face as they still tried, unsuccessfully, to hold them back. “Oh, love. You’re crying.”
Their partner let out a choked laugh and turned their face away. “Y-yeah, I noticed.”
The hero scooted even closer and shifted, lifting both their legs onto the couch and wrapping them around their partner’s waist. They tugged their partner into their arms.
“I just don’t want to lose you,” the hero whispered.
“Couldn’t I—can’t I say the same thing about you?”
The hero exhaled. “You’re right. That’s… it was unfair of me to put all the blame on you.”
They laughed softly, bitterly. “I actually don’t know how you managed to stop, back then. I miss being in the thick of it all, the excitement, so, so, much. So some days, I… I wasn’t working late. I just pick a section, go for a walk, and I pretend I’m patrolling for trouble. I can’t go to the hot sections because one of the other heroes might recognize me, but I… it makes me feel a bit more alive just for a bit. To pretend.”
“It is different,” their partner said, pulling back to meet the hero’s eyes. “I had someone amazing who made it worth it to stop. You had it taken from you, and that’s...”
“Hard,” the hero finished, blinking quickly. “Yeah.”
“But no more lonely night walks, okay? Will you… please call me if you’re feeling like that?”
The hero nodded and sniffed. “Yeah. And you better call me if you feel like robbing anything so I can come beat your ass.”
Their partner laughed through their tears. “Deal.”
