#so he is directly implicated in their deaths

[autisticrosewilson]

So do you guys actually think that Jason's entire story, relationship to the others, and philosophy amounts to him being a rebellious teen who wants his dad's attention? Like are you 100% serious? I thought you were joking about that but too many of you are saying it with your whole chest.

And what the fuck is this "Bruce antagonizing Jason is fanon!" Shit I've been seeing? You guys are aware that a parent can love their kid and still be a shit parent right? I know you guys don't want to fathom the thought that maybe your blorbo might also occasionally have to face responsibility for consistently endangering children but let's not start being delusional now.

Bruce does love his kids, that doesn't mean that he hasn't hurt them. And I'd also argue that for the most part he feels in the right for it, and he's said multiple times that he believes it's for their own good, so you can't even argue that he's sorry about it. It's okay for you guys to admit that your PERSONAL INTERPRETATION of the character wouldn't do that but don't sit here and pretend that it's not a facet of the source.

[dennisboobs]

the funniest thing when considering the whole serial killer dennis angle is that he is the only member of the gang who has been legally cleared of murder.

[sunlitmiracle]

smashes my current interest together with my old interest (aka yet another "what Dungeon Meshi but Gamers?" AU)

Once when I was a child I had a complete crying meltdown over Creatures, because the manual insisted that the complicated AI of the Norns made them truly alive and 10-year-old me was freaked out at the idea of being solely responsible for making sure these real animals wouldn't die. The funny part was that this was the Playstation version of Creatures, which has no biochemistry and very basic AI compared to the PC/Mac games where players actually were debating whether or not it was true artificial life. A PSX manual gave me existential dread and it wasn't even telling the truth.

Anyway, kid!Marcille would also have a meltdown over the Creatures series, especially if she had the computer games and got to see how vastly different some breeds' lifespans are. Like in C2 where you have Norns that live for around 5 hours and Norns that live for 10, both of which are vastly more than Ettins who don't even live for 1.5 hours (and usually less due to radiation or starvation).

Lucky for her, having the computer version means she could download modified genomes made by other players that make creatures live longer or even outright remove certain death triggers. However I think she'd have more fun learning to read and edit the genomes herself, to get a better understanding of how the game works and how to change it to suit her own tastes. And because she could pretend she's one of the mysterious ancient Shee who created the Norns, Grendels, and Ettins and then vanished, leaving behind relics of their old society.

(Speaking of Grendels, she would unfortunately dislike them because they're the Designated Evil Species and she'd hate how they harass and attack her Norns. I think she'd also pity them though, because they get sick a lot and have short lifespans. Likely she'd just end up downloading/creating a genome without the aggression towards Norns. Ettins she'd like except for in C3 when they dismantle her meticulously-placed gadget setups, so she might mod out their hoarding compulsions too. Both of them would of course also live for however long her Norns would live.)

Also. While standard creatures' lifespans are counted in hours, if you modify the half-lives in the genome editor you can increase it to centuries. Or even just over a millennium if you set the half-lives to their max length (assuming you also leave the old age death trigger at its vanilla value).

and I like to think that elven Creatures players would pass around copies of what they consider a template genome that's appropriate to their own lifespans. Something that would make their creatures live for weeks or months of continuous play. I also like to think the Creatures DS Warp is still active in this AU because of the hilarious frustration when these long-lived Norns travel to worlds run by short-lived players whose Norns have vanilla lifespans, and vice versa.

(Most of the time in Creatures, offspring of parents with different lifespans will just have one or the other, but there's a chance the genes cross over right in the middle of the various age triggers and cause unstable aging rates. Like a Norn that goes through the childhood stages in hours but then has a very extended adulthood. Or a days-long childhood followed by suddenly dropping dead of old age once the vanilla adulthood genes kick in. Or, if the child has one parent's half-life decay rate and the other parent's age triggers, all sorts of odd things could happen. I once had hybrid Norns who lived for 20 hours and would die of organ failure before reaching the old age threshold!)

(Now that I think of it, Marcille would absolutely hate fast-agers. The first time she watches a creature hatch, turn old, and die in just one brief minute of life, she would be sobbing for days. One of the first things she'd learn to mod out would be mutations that cause the Ageing/Life chemical to decrease unusually fast.)

On a lighter note, while I don't know what her favorite designs would be I think she'd love choosing cute breeds to use in her world. Once she figured out how to give her creatures the comfortable life she wants them to have I can see her redirecting all her gene-editing efforts into changing color expressions. She might even learn to sprite or model her own custom designs.

[quillyfied]

There’s something my dad used to very exasperatedly tell us kids about the way we did our chores, how we would “spend more time and do more work to NOT do the chore or not do it correctly than it would take to just do the job right the first time.”

Something about Ed driving the crew relentlessly from raid to raid. Something about Ed steering directly into a storm. Something about Ed taking the time to chop the wheel off the ship. Something about Ed dragging and loading a cannon to point at the mast. Something about Ed putting all his energy into forcing the crew to do something about it.

Something about putting more effort into taking the long way around and what that could mean.

[technicolorxsn]

watching the newest chezzkids analysis vid and im wondering if I might have misinterpreted some stuff,,,

[starlightbright]

RIP Ricky September they had to kill you because it would have been unrealistic to not keep you on as a companion 😔

EDIT: I've noticed some people taking this post really seriously, so to clarify: no, I don't think Ricky was literally a perfect uwu anti-racist angel. This post was mostly a joke about how he was running around doing companion shit and, most of all, how the Doctor and Ruby both thought he was a hottie. My actual feelings about Ricky are that he's a complacent white liberal. Character reading under the cut if you want an explanation.

I do think the implications of making him unplugged from the racism bubble, paralleling him with the Doctor (man who shows up with knowledge about history and technology and guides the other character through dangerous situations), and directly contrasting to Lindy (including being open to trust the Doctor without second guessing him the same way Lindy and all her friends did) are supposed to be that he wasn't like the other people there and is thus LESS racist since racism comes to be what defines their society. I've seen some people basically ask "then why'd he move to White People City?" but within the text it's actually Rich People City; the reason everyone there is white is because systemic racism financially benefits white people. Making him LESS racist is NECESSARY to giving his death any meaning - because if he definitively would have called the Doctor a slur and walked away, then the Dot killing him quickly was a mercy kill because we KNOW all the other residents are going to die in the wilderness.

THAT SAID, I also don't think he was a progressive anti-racist. Do you know what Ricky actually is? A white liberal. He might disengage from the White People Bubble, he might not be outwardly cruel to black people, but he's still surrounded by people who are and benefits from a system where ONLY WHITE PEOPLE ARE RICH. The culture might be fucked, but he still benefits from it without doing anything to actually fight it. It's like how many a white liberal will read about the history of slavery, feel sad about it, and then be uncritical of prison labor. If Ricky was meant to be progressive, there'd be something, ANYTHING in the text about how he's tried to educate his followers on their society's problems, but it got deleted. He is COMPLACENT.

That's sort of the point, I'd say, since the theme is about how priviledged white people put themselves in a bubble of people like them and choose to look away from what's wrong in society. Those people become complacent at best with no effort to actually speak out or change things. Hell, even within the text, Ricky SEES a problem others are looking away from (the slugs eating people), but only tries to fight it by making a TikTok about it and becomes complacent again, accepting that people are just going to be eaten.

So tl;dr: no, I don't think the white liberal kid literally would have been a companion. I think if you stuck him in the Ood episode, for example, he'd have shaken his head when he found out about their plight, maybe made a TikTok with sad music playing over footage of them, and then said "welp, nothing else can be done." I think it's FUNNY to imagine another companion that the Doctor and Ruby both are giggling like schoolgirls over.

Also I kind of thought he was ugly - no offense to the actor but the makeup they had him in combined with the lighting and closeups made him look way older than 27 so he gave off this uncanny "how do you do fellow kids?" look.

[thewisecheerio]

Messmer's actually terrible at his job. (affectionate)

Messmer is a fascinating villain, because he is strangely compassionate. I would go so far as to argue that this same compassion that is so at odds with his villainy is the very thing that drove him to become that villain in the first place. Hang with me; this is a long post.

Spoilers for Elden Ring DLC. Obviously.

Messmer tells us himself that his purpose is to purge all those stripped of the grace of gold. "Yet...my purpose standeth unchanged. Those stripped of grace of gold shall all meet death...in the embrace of Messmer's flame." We can piece together who gave him this genocidal purpose from his armor set's description, which tells us directly that he's working on his mother's behalf *and also* taking all the blame for it.

So he's playing war criminal on Marika's behalf. And I do mean playing. I'm not downplaying the fact that he is a war criminal; he has murdered on entire people. But here's the thing: he's *terrible* at playing the sole part of the spiteful, hateful overlord. He's *awful* at reveling in war and its victories.

Why? Empathy.

Messmer is strangely empathic for what could have otherwise been a cut-and-dry villain:

1. His relationship with Gaius, an Albinauric: We learn from Gaius's Remembrance that he was Messmer's bestie. We also know that Gaius was an Albinauric both from his armor as well as the location "Albinauric's Hut" in the direction he comes from at the beginning of his fight. Albinaurics are despised by the Golden Order, but Messmer didn't seem to care. In fact, he cared so little that he gave Gaius command of either a huge chunk or perhaps his entire army, second only to him. And what is given as the basis of this friendship? The fact that they were "both cursed from birth", i.e. a mutual understanding of what it is to be despised. They're trauma bonded because they have empathy for each other's predicament.

2. His relationship with the Jar people: Even though the Jar people were used as weapons of war against his own people, he doesn't seem to resent them. How do we know? There is a hospital where the Jars and their innards are being cared for in the Storehouse, a stone's throw away from where Messmer spends all his time. There are even a few baby Jars running around in it. Strange thing to do to what is essentially an enemy of your people, unless you consider them to also be victims of the same conflict.

3. His relationship with his soldiers: Messmer shares his own flame with his army. Yeah, that absolutely could be interpreted as a utilitarian move for the sake of war. Power up the troops, boost your chance at victory. But it's a strange choice when he could have just armed them in the traditional way of handing them sharp, pointy objects and pointing in the desired direction of stabbing. Instead, arming your soldiers with your own power could also be interpreted as something you do when you care about their survival and are potentially working directly with them to ensure it.

4. The mourning of people who betray him: Speaking of his soldiers, Messmer gets betrayed by at least a few of them. We learn this from the ashes of Andreas and Huw. Huw's ashes further tell us that Messmer *mourned their loss* as brothers-in-arms. Weird thing to do to someone who has betrayed you, unless you care very deeply about them to begin with.

5. The implications of the Storehouse: Even though he is actively genociding Hornsent on Marika's orders, he somehow has preserved an entire library of their history. At first, I thought this was maybe just British Museum vibes: steal all the artifacts and refuse to give them back. (And that could still be a correct interpretation.) But in context of the rest of these points, if you're truly hellbent on erasing a culture, why would you bother to preserve any of it? Would you not burn the libraries along with the people? It's a fairly common thing to do in our world's wars--destroy the art and history to ensure full erasure. And yet, it seems he can't even bring himself to avoid some small amount of sympathy for the people he was explicitly tasked with killing. If you really *think* about the basis for his sympathy for Marika, this does make a lot of sense. Messmer is following Marika's orders because he knows about what the Hornsent did to the Shaman. Wouldn't it then also be the case that once Marika's reign became nothing but genocide, i.e. an exact reversal of what was done to her people, he would have the same kind of sympathy for them? Perhaps this is a form of harm reduction in the only way he could square with what he thinks is his purpose.

6. His own self-hatred: Messmer despises his own flames, which we learn from the Messmer's Orb description. If you were happy to be Doing a Genocide, would you not celebrate your weapons of war? Wouldn't you take pride in them as tools of power? Unless, of course, you're not actually as happy as we think and maybe having regrets and come to be filled with severe self-hatred. Woops.

So then, if Messmer is this guy running around with a lot of Big Feelings (and probably a deep need for a Prozac prescription), why does he even agree to this genocide in the first place? Isn't that an *odd* choice for someone who seems to care pretty deeply about people, even people despised by his family's governing order? Why does he carry out these orders even to the point of developing a deep self-hatred?

This is where Messmer's sympathy, one of his best aspects, also becomes his fatal flaw.

I mentioned above in 5 that Messmer has access to information about both sides of this conflict. As much as he might have sympathy for everyone around him--including weapons used against the Shaman like the Jars--that means he *also* has sympathy for the Shaman. So if you have sympathy for the other side and sympathy for your side, and you are raised by your own side, then what is the natural outcome? Your side wins. If you must choose a side, then you fight on behalf of Child Soldier Fostering Mother Marika. She raised you, after all. It's inevitable.

In the end, that same sympathy he seems to extend to others also is what causes him to do war crimes. Out of an abundance of sympathy for what happened to the Shamans, he agrees to take up arms.

At the end of the day, he's still a villain that needs to be stopped so that he'll stop oppressing an entire people on behalf of his mother's misguided attempts at revenge. But making his reasoning to agree to become that villain in the first place *empathy* of all things? Fascinating.

[ohproserpine]

vii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), allusion to death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Rocks and twigs dug into your knees as you crawled forward, the jagged edges cutting your skin as you reached Alastor's side. With trembling hands, you cradled his face against your lap.

"Alastor," you called for him, desperately clutching onto his body, trying to pull him back down to Earth and hold him there "Al, Al, please."

"What did I do? What can I do?" More tears dribbled down your cheeks as you looked down at your husband, leaning in to press tender kisses to the apples of his cheeks. You held him as tightly as you could, careful not to cause him any more pain.

"I can figure out a way to help you, I can. I know I can, baby," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. Your gaze remained locked with your husband's lifeless eyes, the world spinning around you as panic tightened its grip on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Al. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

˚୨୧₊♱

You woke with a startle.

Gasping for breath, your chest heaved with each inhale, the rapid beat of your pulse slamming against your ribcage, the sound hammering in your head. Blinking repeatedly, your vision slowly adjusted to the unfamiliar sight of a ceiling painted with outrageously colorful prints. Faint traces of neon lights filtered through the thin curtains, casting erratic patterns across the room, accompanied by the distant thump of music.

A gentle knocking at the door broke through the haze, accompanied by the muted tones of a familiar voice seeping through the metal barrier.

"Dollface? Are you up?" Vox's voice, though muffled, was unmistakable as it filtered through the door.

Shakily, you pushed yourself up and sat for a while, gathering your composure. The room spun around you, the vibrant colors of the walls and lights blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Eventually, with a deep breath, you pushed yourself into action, moving to open the door.

As you swung it open, Vox stood on the other side, his signature smirk etched onto his features. His mechanical eyes gleamed as they scanned you for any signs of distress or fatigue. And despite your disorientation, you straightened your posture, trying to maintain your usual demeanor in front of him.

"Good morning," Vox greeted smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Of course, he wasn't interrupting anything. It was clear to both of you that you had just rolled out of bed. Your hair tousled in disarray, your sleepwear crumpled and creased, and your bed behind you a mess of twisted sheets and pillows.

Still, you forced a polite smile and shook your head.

"No, not at all," you replied.

"Excellent," Vox grinned, stepping a foot past your doorway. "May I come in?"

Despite the internal alarm bells ringing in your mind, you nodded, moving aside to let him in. As he passed by, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized, like prey under the gaze of a predator before the pounce.

Closing the door, you leaned against it, feeling the cool surface against your back, and turned to face Vox, attempting to hide the unease simmering within.

"What can I help you with?" you asked, keeping your tone steady.

Vox's gaze pierced yours, his mechanical eyes glinting with a hunger that unsettled you.

"I thought of how we could discuss the details of our partnership," he hummed, running his fingers along your dresser. "Over dinner, perhaps?"

The proposal hung in the air, heavy with implications you weren't sure you wanted to explore. Despite your best efforts to hide it, a seething sense of unease bubbled beneath the surface, twisting your features into a grimace.

"Dinner?" The word felt like acid on your tongue as you struggled to maintain your façade, your gaze sharpening into a glare aimed directly at the overlord. "I'm sorry, but… I'm not interested."

Vox's laughter cut through the tense atmosphere, but it sounded forced and hollow.

"I meant a professional meeting, love," he covered up with a wave of his hand, the charm in his voice slightly strained. "Let's go over your contract."

Relieved, you nodded, though beneath, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled.

This could be a chance for you to really have a gauge on your situation. Everything had happened so fast, and you found yourself stumbling in the dark. You knew the Vees were a powerhouse in the entertainment district, their influence stretching far and wide, extending into every corner of hell. They were notorious for their employment methods, for their ability to shape destinies and manipulate lives with the stroke of a pen.

Who knows what was even in your contract?

"Wonderful!" Vox's cheerful interruption jolted you from your thoughts as he extended his arm. "Well then, let's not waste any more time. Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" you spoke slowly, your tone guarded.

"Shall we get to your duties, my dear?" Vox clarified smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his words laden with expectation. "Velvette is waiting."

"Oh—" you jolted. Quickly, you gathered yourself, smoothing down the wrinkles of your robe and adjusting your disheveled hair with clumsy fingers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you reached out and linked your arm with Vox's. The overlord smirked as he led you out of the room and through the corridors, already launching into conversation about his latest product line.

A part of you found it amusing how similar he was to your husband—both of them chatterboxes who couldn't keep their mouths shut if they tried.

Nodding along to Vox's conversation, you fell into step beside him. As you two walked, it was impossible not to notice the subtle shift in demeanor among the demons and imps, who hastily cleared a path for Vox, some even bowing respectfully as you passed by.

"And here we are!"

Arriving at Velvette's office, you entered cautiously, the tension thick in the air. Models lounged around in various states of undress, their statuesque figures draped in luxurious fabrics. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to suspicion as they observed your every move. Some whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, casting wary glances in your direction, while others maintained an aloof demeanor, their gazes piercing yet blank.

Velvette stood at the front, her figure partially obscured by the tall curtains behind her. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over you with open scorn.

"Finally! Took ya long enough," Velvette scowled. "Edna, will you please go get her dressed?!"

Edna, a tall and slender imp with delicate horns curved against her head, nodded obediently before gliding over to you. With a gentle tug on your arm, she beckoned you to follow her backstage. You stumbled nervously, clutching your robe as you obeyed.

As you stepped away, Vox chuckled, waving you off with a flourish. You offered a cautious wave back before being enveloped by the heavy fabric of the curtains.

"I know what you're trying," Velvette scoffed as she tapped away on her phone, her perfectly manicured nails, painted in a glossy shade of neon pink, clacking against the screen. Vox turned to her, his expression one of exaggerated innocence.

"Whatever do you mean?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"Oh, please don't act as if you weren't sending marionnette over there heart eyes," Velvette accused, her crimson lips forming a thin line of disapproval. "Listen, I don't care what you do with your little girl toy. Just make sure you don't get in the way of my show."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Vox hummed, taking a seat on one of the plush couches.

Velvette turned to him, surprised, her curls bouncing from the abruptness of her movement. "You're staying?"

"Of course. I'm eager to see your dazzling ideas, my dear," Vox replied smoothly, spreading his long legs across the expanse of the couch. "After all, your show is going to be featured on my channels. It's all anyone has been raving about on Voxtagram lately."

"Cut the crap. You just want an excuse to ogle at her," Velvette scoffed.

Vox leaned back against the cushions, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Can you blame me? She's quite the sight to behold."

Before Velvette could snap back, Edna returned, leading you out from behind the curtains. You emerged, feeling somewhat exposed under the scrutinizing gazes of the two overlords.

No surprise, as the main act, you were dressed in one of Velvette's main designs. Black netted stockings hugged your legs as they met the bright red stilettos that adorned your feet. A red corset cinched your waist and emphasized the curve of your hips, accentuating your figure. Below the corset, you wore a dark miniskirt with cream ruffles and lace, its fabric swaying with every step.

You felt abash as you stood in the outfit. In the past, you had been considered a flapper girl with your bold demeanor and penchant for daring fashion choices, but even you couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at the lack of modesty of the skirt in this particular outfit. It barely grazed past your crotch, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

"Let's see…" Velvette hummed, completely absorbed in her task as she approached you, Vox long forgotten. With a couple of snaps of her fingers, the clothing and accessories you wore began to shift and change, transforming before your eyes.

Velvette's fingers danced through the air, conjuring delicate lace and cascading ruffles that stuck onto the corset. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a cream fur coat, draping it over your shoulders with a flourish. The colors morphed, the fabrics transformed, until finally, with a satisfied clap of her hands, she took a step back to admire your new look.

"Makeup!"

Suddenly, you yelped as a chair was dragged over, pushing against the back of your knees and causing you to fall right into it. A bunch of imps swarmed around you and they wasted no time in getting to work, dabbing various products onto your face and expertly brushing powder along your cheeks.

Once they were finished, they handed you a mirror, allowing you to inspect their handiwork. Unlike the outfit, the makeup look wasn't as unsettling. Your face was adorned with makeup reminiscent of classic clown makeup, featuring exaggerated lashes, a layer of white face paint, and a bold red lip.

"That's it! That's the one," Velvette grinned, delighted with the makeover. Her grin turned into a smirk as she turned to Vox. "Well, what do you think—Satan!"

Vox's screen began to glitch and buffer, emitting sparks of electricity that charred the couch beneath him. The sudden noise startled some of the models, their eyes widening in alarm as they scrambled to move away from the malfunctioning android.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Velvette shouted.

Vox tried to respond, but all that came out was static.

Concerned, you approached him, the clicking of your heels against the floor echoing.

As you settled beside Vox, there was a momentary pause in the static, and he stared at you with wide eyes, the malfunction seemingly halted by your presence.

Part of you screamed at yourself to leave, to let him handle his problems alone. But another part of you remained, despite everything. Somehow, you still felt a sliver of sympathy for the overlord.

Leaning in closer, you furrowed your brow, the red gloss on your lips catching the studio lights. The corset pushed your chest up, and Vox found his eyes shamelessly drifting.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, your voice laced with genuine worry.

But before Vox could respond, he short-circuited, a burst of sparks and smoke emitting from his malfunctioning screen. You recoiled instinctively, your hand reaching out to shield yourself from any potential danger. With a final surge of electricity, he powered down completely, leaving behind a smoldering heap of metal and wires.

"Is he… okay?"

Velvette waved a dismissive hand. "He's always doing this. Probably overloaded his circuits again."

"Now, can someone please get this thing out of here?!" she commanded, snapping her fingers and tapping her foot impatiently.

As the models and attendants hurried to comply, you were pulled back up to your feet by the overlord. "He'll reboot eventually. Now, let's get back to work."

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Vox, you followed after Velvette as she led the way to a photo studio within the boutique.

The scene before you was akin to a circus, with vibrant hues of bright reds and pinks resembling a Valentine's Day massacre. A carousel in the background spun slowly, its eerie music echoing through the studio. Beating hearts hung suspended from the ceiling, their rhythmic pulses visible as they dripped with blood.

"Alright! Let's get the rehearsal started!" Velvette shouted out as she began to direct the crew. Cameras were adjusted, lights were fine-tuned, and the set was re-arranged to her satisfaction.

Turning to you with a tablet in hand, Velvette tossed it into your hands. You caught the device and quickly read through the document on the screen, realizing it was lyrics to a song. Your eyes rushed to memorize the words, the familiarity of the process washing over you.

Decades in the show industry had honed your skills to perfection, making this routine feel like second nature. A small pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, reminding you of simpler times before everything went amiss.

“Alright.”

Barely giving you ten minutes to prepare, Velvette deftly plucked the tablet from your hands as she stepped back and settled into a director's chair. The chair creaked softly under her weight as she made herself comfortable, slipping on heart-shaped glasses that glinted in the studio lights.

"Let's see what you've got.”

Lifting the scepter to your lips, you pressed it against your mouth, leaving a trace of red lipstick staining the surface, a stark contrast against the sleek metal. As the lights dimmed, signaling the start of your performance, you took a deep breath and began to recite the lyrics.

I write poems to burn by firelight Drink champagne and guzzle gin Good girls call me "the town bicycle" Don't knock it 'til you've tried my life of sin

With a flick of your hand, you pushed back the curls of your hair, the strands catching the studio lights as you kept your gaze glued to the camera lens. From her chair, Velvette smirked and captured the moment with her phone, the flash briefly blinding the dimly lit set.

Oh, my pimp, knows never mess with me Last prick did that faded quick to black I have no idea where to find him, officers But if you do, please mention that I'd Like to have returned the pretty knife That I stuck ten times in his back—

Before you could even finish, the door burst open with a deafening bang, causing everyone in the room to jump in surprise. Valentino stormed into the boutique, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. Without uttering a single word, he launched into a violent rampage, his movements wild and unpredictable.

The air was filled with the sound of crashing props and the desperate, panicked screams of assistants as they scrambled to evade Valentino's wrath. You jerked back instinctively as an arm was thrown in your direction, narrowly avoiding the chaotic fray unfolding around you.

"Damn it, Valentino! What are you doing?!" Velvette shouted over the commotion, her voice strained with anger and disbelief as she dug her fingers into her hair, her perfectly styled locks now in disarray.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the moth demon screamed back, his voice seething with rage as he held poor Edna by her throat, his grip like a vice around her delicate neck.

"I'm airing out my frustrations!" he spat, his eyes wild with fury.

A sickening tearing sound filled the room as Valentino viciously tore Edna apart, blood splattering across the floor and staining the nearby racks of clothing.

"Fuck!" Velvette cursed under her breath. Fumbling, she retrieved her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen in agitation as she dialed Vox's number.

"My dear," the businessman's smooth voice echoed through the speakers, a calming presence amidst the storm. "What can I do for you?"

"Cut the shit. Are you functioning now?" Velvette's words were clipped, forceful, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Functioning?" The overlord's response was hesitant, his movements jerky as he twisted his head, the wires on his neck audibly cracking with a spark. "I… suppose so."

"Good, because I need you up here now!" Velvette's voice crackled with urgency. "Mothboy is wrecking my department! And I'm waiting for a certain flat-faced prince to come and help!"

Without another word, Vox nodded with a weary groan, the weight of responsibility settling heavily upon him like an oppressive cloak.

"Just another fuckin' day with Val," he scoffed bitterly, his tone tinged with resignation as he pushed himself to his feet with a mechanical whir. "Fuck my life."

In an instant, he transformed into a crackling spark of electricity, zipping up into the CCTV camera before seamlessly teleporting into another one located in Velvette's studio.

"What's going on?" Vox sighed wearily as he materialized, his voice tinged with exhaustion, hands folding behind his back as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.

"Valentino's lost it again. And he's tearing everything apart," Velvette hissed as her hand shot up, grabbing Vox by the collar of his metallic frame.

Her nails dug into the surface, leaving faint marks as she pulled him down to her eye level. "You need to stop him before he causes any more damage!"

"Consider it done," Vox muttered, rolling his eyes before moving toward Valentino. With a firm grip, he halted the demon mid-carnage, spinning Valentino around to face him. An unsettling grin stretched across Vox's metallic features as he locked eyes with the enraged demon.

"Val! What's got you out of sorts today?"

“That piece of shit! Can you believe what he did?” Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he flung a small imp across the room, the helpless girl crashing into a clothing rack. “The ungrateful whore!”

"Uh huh, which whore are we talking about now?” Vox spoke nonchalantly as he pulled his phone out and idly scrolled through it. Before he could react, Valentino lunged forward, his claws snatching the device from Vox's grasp.

"Who else would I be talking about?!" Valentino spat, his grip tightening around the phone until it crushed in his hands. With a primal scream, he hurled the remains of the tech against a nearby wall, the impact causing the column to crack under the force of the blow.

You watched with a frown as Vox attempted to calm Valentino, but his efforts fell short against the demon's relentless anger. Despite Vox's attempts, Valentino continued to rage, his voice echoing through the room as he screamed about hotels, phone calls, and among other things you didn't bother picking up.

“Fuck. Alright, he's not calming down anytime soon,” Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned to you and motioned for you to follow as she began storming out. “Come on."

Quickly, you nodded, falling into step behind Velvette as she navigated through the gory scene. Blood stained the bottom of your heels as you stepped past limbs and puddles of blood, bones cracked underfoot, and muscles squished beneath your weight. The overpowering scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fear.

The overlord guided you out of the room and towards the other side of the building, where a door adorned with your name on a golden plaque awaited.

"This is your dressing room. We'll have another shoot in a few hours, so get yourself prepped in here while I go take care of the piss baby," Velvette scowled, already busying herself with her phone again.

"Will do," you sighed, running a hand through your hair, grateful for the moment of rest.

"Good. I'll see you then," Velvette declared with dramatic flair, her vibrant curls swirling around her face as she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving a trail of her perfume lingering in the air.

As you were about to step into your dressing room, the door beside you suddenly swung open with a creak, revealing a slice of the pink-filled bedroom beyond. To your surprise, you were met with the familiar sight of a fluff of white hair. An accented voice filled the air, screaming into a phone, the sound echoing down the corridor.

"I told ya, I didn't mean to—," The demon turned to you and froze, his eyes widening as he dropped his cigar in shock. The carpet beneath your feet caught fire from the dropped cigar, but neither of you seemed to care.

He stared at you, wide-eyed.

Hands flying up to your mouth, you stared back.

For a minute, all you could hear was the muted sounds of Valentino's screaming from the phone speaker and the building's hustle and bustle

"Dollface?" Angel Dust finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as he blinked dumbfounded. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Your heart dropped like a heavy stone, sinking into the depths of your chest. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stood there.

Everything was becoming too much to even process. Your body betrayed you as you lost your balance, collapsing and hitting the floor. A high-pitched ringing pierced your ears, drowning out all other sounds, as warmth seeped from them.

"Aw, shit," Angel Dust hissed in panic. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, dragging you into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Ending the call, he tossed his phone away and guided you to a plush couch, the fabric soft and inviting beneath your touch as you sank into its embrace. Angel Dust settled beside you, his presence comforting like a warm blanket on a cold night. He offered you a sympathetic smile, though slightly awkward, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured soothingly, his words a gentle caress to your troubled soul.

Opening his arms wide, Angel offered you a hug, and you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his arms as he enveloped you in a comforting hug. Slowly, your senses came together as you nestled against him, the gentle rhythm of his breathing calming the storm of emotions raging within you.

"It's gonna be alright," he whispered softly, his voice a comforting murmur. Moving closer, he wiped away the warm liquid seeping from your ears. You could faintly see his hands moving away, stained with red. "You alright? What happened, mama?"

"A lot," you sighed, raising a hand to massage your temple as you recounted the events of the past 24 hours, from Mimzy's lounge getting busted down to your soul exchange with Vox.

Angel listened intently as you recounted the events, his expression shifting from concern to disbelief as he processed the gravity of what you had experienced.

"Damn, you've been through hell twice. You're one tough cookie, mama," Angel said with a warm smile as he reached for a brush on his vanity and gently ran it through your messed-up hair.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, a hint of laughter escaped you.

"You could say that," you sniffed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you let out a long-held sigh. "It's been a while since I've been able to let it all out like this. Most demons aren't exactly the nicest."

Angel Dust chuckled with a shrug, his hands gentle as he worked through the knots in your hair. "Yeah, I've… ah, been tryn'a to stay 'good' for a while now. Charlie's been real pushy with the redemption thing, and I thought, what the hell, why not?"

Suddenly, he paused his brushing and gawked at you, his eyes widening in realization. "Charlie! The hotel!"

Your heart skipped a beat as Angel Dust's words sank in. "The hotel," you echoed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place in your mind.

"Shit!" Angel laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, there ya go! I get off shift tonight, and I sure as hell can get my ass over there. Hell, I can leave right this instant if you want!"

"Won't Valentino be pissed?" you asked, a flicker of concern crossing your features. "You'll be—" Your gaze darted over to his discarded phone on the floor, which was buzzing with calls. "Well, already are in deep shit."

Angel Dust frowned, his expression hardening with resolve. He grabbed your coat and swiftly removed it, tossing it aside to cover the buzzing phone. "Fuck 'im. He can bark all he wants in the studio, but outside of it, he's got no power over me."

The spider leaned in, his touch as gentle as a soft breeze against your skin, his fingers delicate as they brushed a stray hair from your face. "I'll help you. So don't get your pretty little tits in a twist anymore, alright?"

With a heavy heart, you whispered your gratitude, bowing your head as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. Today had been bleak, but a glimmer of hope lingered for a brighter tomorrow.

"But I don't want to get you in trouble, Angel," you said softly, wiping away your tears, exhaustion washing over you. "I can wait until tonight."

Angel Dust's expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Nah, babe, ain't no trouble for me. Besides, waiting ain't my style, and I ain't about to let you deal with this mess alone."

"Plus," Angel grinned devilishly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, the corners of his lips curling up. "I know your man is going to tear shit down. And I want front row seats to all that drama."

˚୨୧₊♱

"NO!"

Charlie shrieked, her voice piercing the air as she lunged forward, her fingers grasping desperately at Alastor's piece on the gameboard. "Al! You can't just do whatever you want! You have to follow the rules!"

Alastor leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he regarded Charlie with amusement. "But my dear, where's the entertainment in that?" he purred as he tilted his head in mock innocence. "Rules are made to be broken, after all. So, I had a little fun with it."

"A little fun?" Vaggie scoffed from her spot on the floor, her brows furrowed in frustration as she idly shuffled the cards.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, dickhead," she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "That's what you've been doing these past 2 hours. If you don't start playing properly, might as well not play. I mean—why did you even bother?"

"For the entertainment!" Alastor cheered, his grin widening as he rolled the dice once the turn landed on him again. With a flourish of his claws, he moved his piece three spaces, landing on an unclaimed building which he quickly purchased. "I came here because I love seeing you wayward souls struggle to accomplish something great, and fail spectacularly!"

Vaggie scoffed and rolled the dice, her hand deftly moving the piece along the board with a flick of her wrist. However, her expression soured noticeably when the piece landed on the Jail panel. She seethed and sank back, silently cursing her streak of horrible luck.

"Ah, like you are doing now!" Alastor smirked down at her like the asshole he was, punctuating his words with a clap of his hand. "Good job!"

Vaggie clenched her jaw tightly, her knuckles whitening as she lifted the board, readying herself to strike Alastor. However, before she could make her move, the door burst open, and Angel Dust rushed in with a gasp. He looked every bit disheveled, as if he had just run through all nine circles of hell.

Charlie's eyes lit up at the sight of him, and she lifted her hand, waving him over excitedly.

"Angel! Perfect timing. We need one more player for Monopurgatory," she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly towards the game board. With a gleeful expression, she plucked a piece from the board and held up a small metal figurine with a wide smile. "You can be the cupcake~!"

"Sorry, princess, I've got business," Angel huffed, brushing his hair back as he turned to Alastor. "Alright, freaks. We need to talk."

Alastor hummed, studying Angel with mild amusement. "My, my, such urgency," he remarked, his smile widening into a grin. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

"It's about Vox," Angel replied, pressing his hands flat against each other. "I need to speak with you in private."

Alastor's grin faded slightly, and he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at Angel. Well, this was certainly getting very entertaining.

After a moment of contemplation, Alastor shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever daze he had briefly fallen into.

"Vox, you say?" Alastor mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. With a nonchalant shrug, he pushed himself up, twirling his cane in the air. "Oh, well, in that case, let's chat."

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor moved forward and gestured towards the door, indicating for Angel to follow him. Charlie and Vaggie exchanged puzzled glances, but they remained silent, watching as both men left the room.

"You know, I'd usually never even think of entertaining you, and I'd rather let you deal with your own issues. But you seem to be in a great deal of suffering!” Alastor laughed heartily as he shut the door.

"So, pray tell, what happened? Did you get yourself entangled in another deal from a whim decision? My! I certainly hope you don't bring any of this into the hotel. What will the papers say?"

Angel rolled his eyes and cut Alastor's rambling short, jabbing a gloved finger into the Radio Demon's chest. "It ain't about me. And you're gonna want to listen because it's your missus that's in deep shit right now."

Alastor's eye twitched at the mention of you, a brief flicker of static and symbols dancing in the air. His crimson eyes bore into Angel Dust, his expression unreadable, save for the wide curl of his lips.

Inwardly, Angel smirked. If he didn't have Alastor's attention before, he sure as fuck had it now.

"What does my wife have to do with this?" Alastor quipped sharply, his claws delicately removing Angel Dust's finger from his chest. "I fail to see the connection. Do enlighten me."

"Wanna be enlightened?" Angel waved him over, "Then follow me."

Without waiting for a response, Angel turned on his heels and strode out of the hotel. Alastor followed closely behind, his red-clad figure cutting through the streets of hell like fire against the night.

A few streets later, they approached the border edge of the entertainment district, and Alastor halted abruptly, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.

"I don't particularly fancy this area, and I'd rather not enter," he scoffed, adjusting his coat and brushing away dust from his sleeves with a disdainful flick. "It's rather unsavory."

"Just look," Angel rolled his eyes, gesturing upwards towards the towering Vee tower, where a new advertisement had just been erected.

Alastor's gaze shifted upward, and he froze as he beheld your face plastered across the billboard, larger than life, dominating the skyline of the entertainment district. The vibrant colors of the advertisement clashed with the dark hues of the surrounding buildings, drawing attention like a beacon in the night. Beneath the image, in bold letters, was a sign that read: "Sponsored by VoxTek," stark against the backdrop of your image.

There was silence for a minute, then another, before a sharp crack split the air.

"Angel?" Alastor's chipper voice rang out as he stared up at the billboard with a manic grin. Crackling began to be heard as his limbs lengthened, each movement accompanied by the sound of bones shifting and sinewy muscles stretching beneath his ashen flesh.

"Would you be so kind as to…" His antlers began to grow in size, curling and twisting like the branches of a gnarled tree.

"—explain…" His eyes darkened, the whites turning to a deep, swirling black, while the pupils glowed with a golden light, resembling the flickering dials of an old radio.

"—what exactly am I looking at right now?" His hands elongated into grotesque claws, the fingers stretching and sharpening into razor-sharp blades capable of ripping flesh—or in this case, wires—with ease. As his claws extended, they stretched his glove to its limit until it tore right off, revealing the glint of his wedding ring.

"Vox got her soul," Angel replied immediately, his voice steady despite the horrifying sight in front of him. "Screens has her wrapped around his finger, and he's not planning to let go anytime soon."

Alastor's head snapped to the side with a sickening crack accompanying the movement.

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

˚୨୧₊♱

[xvysarene]

𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝔻𝕖𝕖𝕕

Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Prompt: “You’re pretty good at running away.” Words: ~2.8k Genre: Eventual fluff A/N: In a writing slump and kinda dislike how this one turns out but oh wells

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“Marry me,” you had said.

Those two words—whether they were your saving grace or the beginning of your damnation, you weren’t sure.

Then, he surprised you when he said, “Okay.”

Nothing more and nothing less.

It almost felt like he had anticipated your arrival, barreling your way into the base upon learning of your father’s, one of Onychinus’s highest-ranking partners’, demise.

Seeing your stupefied expression, he nonchalantly shrugged. “It’s a practical solution to an unfortunate situation.”

That wasn’t your first time meeting Sylus, and you’d be far too naïve to think he would ever do anything for free. Every favour, every exchange, came with an unspoken contract—an inevitable quid pro quo.

But it was a choice between marrying him or being eaten alive in the N109 Zone.

“Although, I must ask—have you truly thought this through?” Sylus inquired, his gaze sharp.

There was a reason why you chose to move to Goldwood City once you had the chance; far away from the lawless land to start anew, free from the shadow of your father’s association.

As if the death of your mother caused by his recklessness years ago wasn’t enough, the old man had to pull you back into the very world you had succeeded to leave behind.

Staying away was a luxury you no longer had with your old man’s enemies haunting you.

Head held high, you met his gaze directly. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure of my choice.”

Oh, little did you know, that your return to the N109 Zone as Onychinus’s leader’s wife, would mean putting your heart on the line as well.

Perhaps it all started that one evening, when a nightmare jolted you awake, haunting you with the vision of your mother’s lifeless eyes and being captured by the people your father had entangled himself with.

Without even realising it, you were already standing at Sylus’s doorway. 

“Why?” he questioned when you asked if you could stay the night in his. “Something wrong with your room?”

Indeed, he offered you your own space even though you were legally husband and wife now. It had been a relief at first, a perfect arrangement, until the nightmares escalated.

“It just feels too quiet tonight,” you lied, unready to fully bare your soul.

Sylus finally looked up from the papers he’d been reading, one eyebrow arched. “Not used to being alone at night back in Goldwood?”

Your face flushed at the implication. Just as you opened your mouth to deny it, something in his expression shifted.

It was so fleeting and subtle that you weren’t even sure if you had imagined it.

He raised a hand, halting your reply. “Actually, never mind about it.”

When he simply returned to his papers, offering no clear sign of whether you were welcome, you frowned.

You were about to take your bruised pride back to your room when you heard him let out a resigned sigh. “Are you coming or no? You’re letting the draft in,” he said, pulling back the duvet on the vacant side, inviting you to settle in.

His acceptance was surprising, but you quickly climbed into bed before he could change his mind, feeling a surge of relief and security with him close by.

If you were too close for comfort, he didn’t mention it.

Sylus was so warm that you shuddered from the sudden temperature change. The base, with its perpetual chill, was a stark contrast to his body heat.

“What are you reading?”

“Mundane proposals,” he muttered, tone laced with boredom as his eyes skimmed the pages in front of him.

With your interest piqued, you scooted even closer, your hair slightly brushing his arm. “Anything I should know about?”

When you told him that you wouldn’t settle for being a trophy wife, he offered you an administrative position in Onychinus, which you happily accepted.

“I feel that these are better off in the trash.”

A small chuckle escaped you, drawing Sylus’s attention. He cast a glance downward, amused by your reaction.

That somewhat prompted him to give a brief outline of the proposal, perhaps to get him through it too. And he was right, it was so dull that you felt your eyes fluttering closed, lulled by the deep timbre of his voice.

“—heard that the twins take good care of you.”

“Hm?” You peeked one of your eyes open, though it was futile as it soon closed again.

Whenever he was away, Luke or Kieran—often both—were always by your side, becoming more than just your guards; they were your mentors, teaching you the complexities of Onychinus’s operations, and they were slowly becoming your…

Friends. A foreign term to you.

Friendship had never been something you could afford, not with the constant paranoia of trusting the wrong person, no thanks to your father.

In your drowsy state, you remembered mumbling, “I feel at ease when I’m with them.”

“At ease, huh? That’s a rare concept around here.” Sylus’s voice cut through the fog of your drowsiness.

Your mind, still wrapped in the haze of sleep, seemed to speak for itself. “You also make me feel more comfortable than I expected.”

Looking back, you laughed mirthlessly at your own stupidness. Where was that defense mechanism you had sworn was ingrained within you?

You knew better than to allow yourself to be vulnerable, to let someone slip past your guard easily in such a short span of time.

Especially someone like Sylus—a man cloaked in power, whose intentions were always enigmatic.

“You’re pretty good at running away.” The voice, carried by the wind, reached your ears. “Pretty good, but not the best.”

“Here to claim your bargaining tool back?”

His footsteps stopped a few paces away from you. Refusing to meet his gaze, you remained looking ahead. The once vibrant colours of sunset faded into darkness, as if the sky itself mirrored the ache seeping deep inside your soul.

Sylus let out a deep sigh. “How much did you know?”

A few days ago, while you were sorting through Onychinus’s papers, you stumbled upon an old, yellowed document hidden deep on a neglected shelf, seemingly placed there to remain undiscovered.

As you read through the faded ink—an exchange made between your father and Sylus a long time ago, marked with their signs and bloodied fingerprints—it felt as though you heard your old man laughing from his grave, determined to terrorise you even in death.

That bastard had sold you to Sylus, bartering your life for a sliver of power within the N109 Zone.

“Did you have fun watching me pathetically beg you to marry me? Knowing all along that you’ve owned me anyway?”

The memory of his calmness that day burned in the back of your mind. Your intuition was right after all, he had anticipated you coming to him.

And if you were honest with yourself, it wasn't even your father you were so angry with—you’d always known what a monster he was.

No, what burned like a hot iron in your chest was the sense of betrayal, the sting of disappointment aimed squarely at Sylus. 

How could you have been so blind, so gullible to believe that this man could be anything more than another player in your father’s ruthless game?

“I asked you that day if it was what you truly wanted,” he calmly said, “I never forced you to marry me.”

You bristled. He was right, of course.

“But you would make sure that one way or another, you would claim me as your possession, wouldn't you? Even from the moment we first met,” you spat.

It was a few years ago when you were first introduced to Sylus. Your mother had begged you to accompany her to a function, and how could you refuse when the guilt of leaving her in the N109 Zone with your father still weighed heavily on you?

For whatever reason you couldn’t understand, she had refused to move in with you.

The function was a blur of faces and conversations that made your head spin, the air thick with the aroma of expensive cigars and the tang of power.

You felt out of place, an outsider in a world that had once been your cage.

“Darling, I want you to meet someone.” Your mother’s tone was a strange mixture of joy and nervousness. She gently took your arm and guided you through the crowd until you stood before a tall figure, his presence commanding.

“This is Sylus, the leader of Onychinus,” she introduced. “He’s agreed to work with your father on some very important matters.”

You blinked in surprise. Somehow, you expected the leader of the most prominent organisation to be someone closer to your father’s age, but he was only a couple of years older than you.

Sylus’s features were sharp and striking, though it was his eyes that held you captive. They were intense, piercing, as if he could see right through you.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Y/N,” Sylus greeted. He took your hand in his, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Your mother’s keen eyes noticed the crimson that spread across your cheeks, her lips pursing to contain a smile.

“Oh, Sylus, no need for such formalities,” she said lightly, elbowing you to greet him back.

You tried to compose yourself, but his unexpected charm and the way he looked at you left you flustered. “I—uh, nice to meet you too," you managed to stammer.

“Your mother speaks highly of you,” his low voice sent tingling sensation on your insides.

The soft rustle of grass as Sylus settled beside you made your skin prickle. Stupidly, you still craved his closeness.

The nightmares had ceased when you began staying in his bedroom altogether, finding security in the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. But since fleeing the base, they returned relentlessly, creeping back each time you managed to get a shut eye.

He stretched out his long legs, the fabric of his jacket brushing against you slightly, his gaze fixed on the distant city lights glimmering on the horizon.

“I didn't want you to find out like this,” he finally said, voice low and measured, as if he had carefully chosen each word.

“Then enlighten me, Sylus, what was your grand plan? To control me? To tame me into the docile wife you always wanted me to be?”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek black box, pressing it into your hands. “This will explain better than any of my words.”

Slowly, you opened the latch, revealing a collection of emblems—some new, some tarnished—from various N109 Zone fractions. Resting on top of the seals was a folded envelope, its edges frayed.

Sylus nodded towards it, urging you to read the letter inside. As you unfolded the paper, the familiar handwriting of your mother’s came into view, despite the hurried and uneven scrawl.

What I could not say, his deeds will show. Have faith in him.

“Your mother approached me before the agreement with your father was finalised.” Sylus’s expression was unreadable. “She wanted me to protect you. From your father, and from anyone that might harm you.”

As the dots began to connect inside your spinning head, the realisation dawned. “And that’s why you asked for me in return? Why didn’t you tell me this when I first came to you?”

“Keeping you near would make it easier for me to ensure your safety, at least until I could handle all of your father’s enemies.” He shot you a sideways glance. “Do you think we’d be here now if I had laid it all out for you from the start?”

You both knew that if he had, you would have likely flipped him off and done everything in your power to escape his presence.

The cold metal emblems bit into your palm as you examined them, each one representing what had once been a looming threat. A deep understanding shifted your perspective entirely; this was what Sylus had been occupied with during the days he left you in the care of Luke and Kieran.

He had been thoroughly hunting down your father’s enemies, your nightmare, to ensure that you could finally be free from them.

It wasn’t his incompetence that had kept him from finding you days after your escape. No, he had been securing the final pieces of your freedom.

“What did you ask from my mother then? There must have been something you got, that’s how you grant wishes.”

Sylus gave a soft huff, as if he was on the verge of a chuckle, and shook his head. “Contrary to popular belief, I do grant wishes without expecting anything back.”

Your eyes flicked to him in surprise as he continued, “Nothing. I asked for nothing in return. Your mother earned my respect, and that was enough.”

Everyone understood that dealing with Sylus was a risk, a gamble that could even cost you your life.

Studying him intently, you searched for any trace of deception, but all you discovered was a grave sincerity. His eyes were unnervingly tender when he watched the shock painting your face.

“I’ve kept my promise to your mother. You're a free woman now, free to do whatever you want.” Sylus broke eye contact then, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he added, “We can also get a divorce.”

A divorce.

The word set something unsettling that clawed at your insides, sinking deep into your core, and catching you completely off guard.

For a moment, your mind replayed the way his intense red eyes met yours with kindness, to his touch that held a tenderness that couldn't be faked, and the subtle ways he had shown his care for nearly half a year now.

You hugged your knees tighter, the cold ground beneath you contrasting sharply with the warmth of your memories. “Is that what you want? For us to go separate ways?”

“What I want,” he began slowly, “never matters. This has always been about you. Your choice.”

A second passed, then ten, before you quietly whispered, “What if I choose to stay with you then?”

It was as if a wall had been erected again.

“You are not thinking with your head right now, but with your heart. You trusted me because you saw me as your only lifeline.” His voice was rough, edged with frustration.

“But what if underneath the leader of Onychinus, underneath the man that everyone fears, is the one I want to stay with, the one I feel at ease with? Not because of my father’s shadows nor his enemies.”

Sylus breath hitched, a sudden tension rippling through his frame as he struggled to keep his composure. “You don’t know me.”

His voice carried a warning, attempting to push you away, but you stood your ground.

In that moment, you understood why he often held himself back, creating distance whenever he found himself growing too close.

He was afraid of caring for you beyond what he thought his promise to your mother allowed, struggling to maintain the balance between his feelings and his commitment, fearing that crossing that line would mean violating his duty.

“Then show me.” You moved closer, invading his personal space. “Show me what’s behind all this.”

With resolve burning in your eyes, you cupped his face and leaned in. Your lips sought his, praying you hadn't misread him all this time.

That you wanted the warmth and tenderness you’d glimpsed in fleeting moments to be real and not just a reflection of your own desires.

For a breathless moment, he remained still. Then, something in him seemed to break, a crack in his armour. Strong, corded arms slid around you, pulling you closer until you both tumbled back onto the grass, entwined.

His hand brushed the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as his lips pressed into yours with a ravenous need.

It was a kind of kiss that laid bare the truth, shattered every wall, and left you panting for air.

Your breaths intermingled when you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. There was a vulnerable openness in there, a look concealed beneath the hardened exterior.

“You never read my mother’s letter, did you?” you suddenly asked him.

Confusion flickered in his eyes, his brows knitting together as he shook his head. With trembling fingers, you retrieved the letter from the box and held it up between you.

The dim light from the horizon cast soft shadows on the small message scribbled on the bottom of the paper.

Sylus’s eyes traced the words, his gaze shifting from the letter to your face as the message slowly registered.

Sylus—remember that you, too, deserve love just as much as she does.

It was as though your mother had not only seen the heart within him, but had also foreseen what he had struggled to admit.

With a gentle touch, your thumb brushed against his cheek, lips featherlight as it brushed against his once more. “Take me home, Sy.”

[skyahri]

Soul |Ryomen Sukuna X Reader| HC

Summary: Sukuna meets the reincarnation of the only person he's ever loved.

Warnings: Implications of sex? Female pronouns. Reincarnation. Fear and anxiety.

- - - - -

"Rin..."

It came out like word vomit before Yuuji could even process what he was saying.

You looked at him, confused. Your name wasn't Rin and you'd never met this man before. Who did he think you were?

He slapped a hand over his mouth. Sukuna had forced his way to the surface just to ramble out a name? In all these years as his vessel, he'd never done something so trivial.

Sensing the flicker of cursed energy, Gojo, Megumi, and Nobara prepared themselves. It'd been a while since Sukuna had tried anything. Some sort of pact he'd formed with Yuuji kept him mostly content, although they weren't sure what it entailed.

It happened in the blink of an eye; Sukuna had taken over and stood directly in front of you, one hand flat on your chest and the other on your face.

"Rin... I could never forget the feel of your soul."

Your heartbeat fastened. An overwhelming feeling of fear fell onto you, rendering you unable to move.

What would you be able to do anyway? He's a God, and you had no abilities outside of actually seeing the damn things.

You had no idea what he was talking about. Your name isn't Rin and you'd never had any kind of encounter with either men until just now.

Megumi tried to move forward, but Gojo stuck an arm out in front of him. Something was off about the way Sukuna was acting, and he didn't think it was threatening.

It would be best to see how this played out instead of possibly starting a war that was never meant to begin in the first place.

"What are you doing? We can't let her-"

"Hold on."

They watched as Sukuna looked you up and down, inspecting your robes, hair, and face with a certain softness. His face was still hard and his movements still confident, but there was just that feeling.

"You look so different, but thats to be expected. Are you fairing well?"

You swallowed hard. His delicate touch did nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only confused you more. He was tucking your hair behind your ear, giving you some sort of smile, and yet you feared he was going to rip your heart right out of your body.

"Um..."

Really, how were you supposed to respond? What sort of answer was he expecting? What were the consequences if you were to answer incorrectly?

Were you meant to comment on how you supposedly looked different? Was it your features? Your clothes? Your haircut?

"I'm scared."

Sukuna paused. You were horrified to have answered wrong, and now you could only hope he wouldn't kill you.

But he did something unexpected; he laughed. A thick, hardy chuckle that made your blood run cold.

Was this the end? How pitiful. Slain on a random Tuesday afternoon all because you wanted to meet up with an old friend. That's not a proper death.

"A thousand years and countless reincarnations, yet you still know how to make me laugh."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. You only had a moment to panic before a lifetime of memories filled your mind.

You remember the time before modern civilization when you relied on hunting in the woods and crops from the neighbor's farm.

You remembered your parents, siblings, friends, and other villagers. You remember your home on the outskirts of town just against the forest line.

But most importantly, you remember Sukuna.

You remember meeting him as a human, and then several years later as a curse. You faced off against him, and although you couldn't beat him in the end, you'd come close enough to earn his respect.

He stood above you, two arms crossed, one on his hip, and the other outstretched to offer you a hand up.

Who were you to refuse such a gesture from the king of curses?

He allowed you to join his temple alongside other followers of his with the condition you devoted yourself to him entirely. The offer was presented as a choice, but the alternative was death, so any reservations you had were null.

You wanted to go with him anyway, but that's beside the point.

From the very beginning of your journey with him, it was made clear to everyone that you were 'special' and not to be bothered.

This fact didn't hold up too well with some of the others, but what were they to do about it? Argue with Sukuna? Tell him they were more deserving of his attention? How pathetic.

He allowed you privileges that would only ever be known to you, like dining with him or joining him on trips. These small pleasantries became grand ones, like sharing his bed and allowing him to claim you.

Your relationship was equal from then on. You were not just a follower of his anymore. He was just as devoted to you as you are to him, and he ensured you knew it.

He'd always make sure to tell you how special you were, that he was taking his time with you and granting you pleasure. How you were his favorite, and no one else could even compare. How others had not been so lucky in the past.

He'd escort you to and from the hot springs, have humans bring you flowers and jewelry, and allow you to see the most vulnerable aspects of him.

He promised his love for you would never die, and here he is a millennia later proving true to his words.

Once the unrelenting onslaught of memories subsided, your hands met his- one still on your chest feeling your heartbeat, and the other slid partway into your hair- and all you could do was appreciate his presence.

You stared up at him. His face was different, but that intense look in his eyes was all the proof you needed that he was still the same man from all those years ago.

Tears beaded up in your eyes and quickly dripped down your cheeks. Crying had never been your thing in the past, but you didn't care to stuff the feelings down. Such a reunion was an occasion enough.

"My love," you whispered.

He leaned his forehead down to meet yours.

"My Queen."

[starcurtain]

Hey! I apologize if this question has been asked before since it seems like a pretty obvious one, but where do you think the idea of Aventurine being a sex slave came from? Other than the obvious factor of it being something fun for the fandom to mess around with, I mean.

It's something I kind of took for granted as being true before playing his quest, but after finishing it I realized there wasn't really any indication. The only thing I can really think of is his master's comments about him having a good body. Is there anything in his behavior you can think of that would lead to this conclusion if it wasn't a popular fan interpretation already/kind of just an easy conclusion to reach with a slave character?

(also kind of related but what do you think of the idea that he sleeps around/with his clients to make deals? he's obviously willing to sexualize himself with the boob window, but that doesn't necessarily mean he goes further.)

As far as I can tell, the idea that Aventurine was involved in sexual slavery comes from three (maybe four) places:

First, the comment from the master about Aventurine's appearance. People were holding this comment up as refutable proof that Aventurine was used in sexual slavery on top of being tossed into the Hunger Games; however, the response from other players on this interpretation, especially the Chinese side of the fandom, was very mixed, with a lot of people pointing out that the context in the game probably meant the slave master was talking about Aventurine's ability to attract attention from fans watching the literal Sigonian Hunger Games, rather than having a direct sexual-slavery connotation.

Second, the comment from Sparkle about stripping naked and getting on his knees for Sunday. This one has way more implication in English than I think it might for an Eastern audience, actually. In English, this pretty much sounds like Sparkle saying Aventurine trades sexual favors for success in his gambles. However, I suspect the original intention in Chinese was more about humiliation. Western audiences don't have as much history with honor-based prostration, i.e. accepting corporal humiliation as a form of reconciliation that Eastern audiences might be more familiar with. And in any case, Sparkle is Sparkle. She probably just went for the lowest blow she could think of here.

Third, the general assumption that if Sigonian slaves were being chained, branded, beaten, sent to death matches, etc., it seems logical that they would also be taken advantage of in other ways. I honestly think this is probably the fairest take--many, many real slaves around the world faced (and still face!) sexual abuse, so if slaves from Sigonia were treated so poorly you could make them fight to the death for entertainment, it stands to reason they were probably also not safe from other forms of assault. We also have no idea what happened to Kakavasha in any of the years between his being a tiny child fleeing the massacre and then being purchased as a slave as a late-teens-early-twenties person. That's a very long time for a child to have to survive on their own on an extremely hostile planet and not face risks of all kinds or end up needing to do unspeakable things to survive. So I think this is at least not that far-fetched, although it's important to say there's nothing in the game that directly confirms this.

And fourth: I read a tweet semi-recently that stated that one of the Chinese (or maybe it was Japanese) names for a quest Aventurine was involved in was actually a reference to a book about a teenage sexual assault survivor. However, when I tried to verify this myself, I couldn't find any quest Aventurine was in that was based on a book about sexual assault in either English, Chinese, or Japanese. It's possible I just missed something, but I'm taking this one with a bit of a grain of salt currently, since I can't confirm it personally.

Regarding your other question, about whether I think Aventurine sleeps around to make deals...

I definitely think he does not, for one major reason.

First, I will admit that Aventurine is definitely willing to use his appearance to his advantage. This is pretty obvious. He wears incredibly flashy clothes, baths himself in cologne, overloads on glittering golden jewels, and absolutely calls attention to his appearance when working with clients.

We see him actively doing this in his Moment Among the Stars video, where he is clearly using his looks as an equal tool (to his wealth), to daze his target.

It's not an accident that he says things like "Use me as you wish," with all the explicit connotations preserved. The implication is there. However, unless he was absolutely backed into a corner, I think that implication is all it will ever be.

The reason I think this is that the devs go out of their way to give Aventurine three fairly noticeable physical behaviors in his in-game scenes:

For one, he has some of the most closed off body language of any character in the game.

Aventurine's default conversation pose is arms crossed directly and tightly in front of himself. This is like "Defensive Body Language 101." By crossing your arms, you put a symbolic barrier between yourself and the person you're speaking to, and also ensure that your hands are up and available in case you actually need to physically defend yourself.

Virtually all of Aventurine's conversations take place from this stance, no matter who he is speaking to (from the Trailblazer all the way to Topaz). He deliberately closes his pose off and tightens up his silhouette, which just sends a glaring "Don't touch me" message.

This closing off is also blatantly apparent when you compare it to the deliberately open poses he strikes while trying to make himself seem accessible to others (like tempting clients) or seem powerful (to intimidate):

Complementing this habit of closing himself off is a second noticeable aspect of his body language: He frequently avoids eye contact to the point that he even holds conversations while entirely facing away from the person he's speaking to.

I might be a bit lenient and say maybe he's doing this to on purpose to be mysterious, whoo~~ But... in all honestly, he just does this with everyone, even with Ratio while trying to talk about an actual important issue (wanting to look into Acheron's real identity). Hell, even the fake Aventurine does it to himself!

We can even say that wearing the rose-tinted glasses in the first place is another intentional barrier, one Aventurine deliberately removes in specific moments to give people the (false) impression that he's "letting them in" to his circle:

Now, this might be a bit more complicated in Aventurine's case, because eye contact has a whole extra meaning when eyes are the defining trait of your species and come with particularly challenging racial stereotypes. So it may be that Aventurine is simply used to conducting conversation while looking away to minimize racial prejudice against his eyes' unique appearance.

However, I'd also argue that the devs deliberately turned his entire model away in cutscene after cutscene to create a clear sense of being inaccessible, unapproachable, and unwilling to engage in the physical intimacy of standing closely, directly facing, and staring at his conversation partners.

While he faces away, he controls both the figurative and the literal direction of conversation, forcing people to keep their eyes on him while he is free to move as he pleases. Over and over again, it just says "I want to be the one in control. I'm not afraid to show my back to you, but you are not welcome to come near me."

And, in fact, that's a third aspect of his character's body language that I am sure the devs did not include accidentally: More so than other characters, many of Aventurine's conversations are conducted from weirdly far distances. Like, half the time he's talking, he's standing all the way on the opposite side of the room!

This habit of speaking from a-larger-than-normal distance is apparent in the first scene with Himeko...

And then in just about every other conversation too:

The bubble is twenty feet in every direction.

Like yes, he does approach and have conversations like a normal person... sometimes... But it is significantly more noticeable with Aventurine than with other characters that he often conducts whole conversations--even with his allies--from a distance. Just genuinely weirdly far apart.

Leaving space for Gaiathra, I guess.

And it's because these significant decisions were made with Aventurine's in-game body language that, when he deliberately alters his own behavior, it is instantaneously noticeable.

In 2.0, he closes the distance, the glasses come off, and he gets directly up in the Trailblazer's face.

It's uncomfortable not just because the player is suddenly being loomed over, but because this behavior has already been subconsciously established for the player as out of character for Aventurine.

The barriers the character himself was putting up are deliberately stripped away so that he can use physicality and demanding eye contact to intimidate his target. He has to reverse his own normal body language in order to come across as domineering (and, I guess if you're into that, appealing in a domineering manner).

And ummmm, just a tiny aside here because I can't resist:

This does mean that when the game goes out of its way to demonstrate Aventurine altering his own normal habit of distant and defensive body language, it is absolutely intentional.

Yes, this is a Ratiorine post in disguise. There literally isn't any other character in the game that Aventurine is shown being comfortable standing so close to and interacting with in this manner. This doesn't occur in every one of their scenes, but Ratio is the only character that this happens with repeatedly. It's not an accident that the devs literally added "They were walking side-by-side" as flavor text.

But look, I'll be fair: There's a great example of this in Aventurine's scene with Acheron too, where he closes the distance and attempts to make eye contact with her--seeking her guidance and closeness--and she is actually the one stepping away, speaking with her back turned, demonstrating her power and control (and issues with connection!) in that scene.

Anyway, this was a whole longggg tangent into analyzing Aventurine's body language, but my point is that, overall, the devs deliberately adjusted his model's actions in-game to give the impression of a person who clearly wants to be in control of every interaction he has with other people, who insists on distance over intimacy, and whose stances and habits suggest that he is significantly less accessible and open than his "Use me as you wish" motto might suggest.

Long story longer, I think that there is almost zero chance Aventurine is willingly ceding control over himself or the actions expected of him to anyone he isn't 100% comfortable with, and I think that using physical intimacy of any kind would be an absolute last resort for him. Frankly, he comes across as more likely to shoot himself in the foot than let someone he doesn't trust lay hands on him.

To me, he reads very much as "You may look, but you may not touch."

[thebrightsilverlining]

How Secret Are the Phantom Thieves' Secret Identities?

Joker

Police: Know exactly who he is due to his arrests and even send people to spy on him from time to time.

Public: Have enough information to find out but not explicitly stated.

When the police revealed that they had caught the leader of the Phantom Thieves on November 20th (and later revealed his death), they did not mention his name. Instead, Joker is described as a teenager on probation for assault who was sent to Tokyo for the year. 

Though his school was not directly mentioned, the fact that the first incident occurred at Shujin Academy makes it relatively clear that that is the school he went to. Later, after his second arrest as leader of the Thieves, Shujin admits that he was a student of their school when pushing for his release.

Though they never mention his name, anyone who wanted to could easily do some digging on Shujin Academy, find out there was a transfer student in the second year who had a criminal record, and put the pieces together. So, though his identity was technically never leaked to the public, it appears as if it is more of an open secret.

Interestingly enough, Akane from Strikers does not know Joker’s identity. Despite being a superfan (to the point of running a Phantom Thief news livestream) she can only wonder who he might be. This implies one of three things. Either

A: Despite his identity being easy to find if one did some digging, no one has bothered to actually do the digging and thus he remains anonymous.

B: Hacker extraordinaire Futaba Sakura hid or obfuscated any evidence that could reveal the identity of the leader of the Phantom Thieves based on the information the police gave.

C: Due to the fact that it was the police who leaked most of that info, it is considered poor form to use that information to figure out the leader’s identity. 

Option C relies on social etiquette. After all, the Phantom Thieves are very anti-police, and their fans are likely too. The leader of the Phantom Thieves had no say over that information about himself being leaked to the public by the people who literally tried to kill him, so using that information could be considered wrong by his fans. Thus, even though most have a general idea that the leader of the Phantom Thieves is the transfer student from Shujin Academy, actually looking into who that is could be considered rude by Phans and PhantomFreaks.

The Phantom Thieves

Police: Have a hunch but ultimately no proof.

Public: No clue, but maybe some theories based on knowledge of the leader’s identity.

Because Joker never reveals who the rest of the Phantom Thieves are both of the times he is arrested as a Thief, the police do not have definitive proof regarding the other members identities. They likely have hunches, as based on the list Sae reads off during the November 20th interrogation, but any and all evidence is circumstantial at best and largely tied to the simple fact that they know the leader. And every single thief has plausible deniability. That being, they can say that they may have been friends with the leader, but they had no knowledge of his identity and were not part of the operation.

Without more evidence or a confession, there is really know way to prove otherwise, so all of the thieves’ identities remain safe. This is doubled due to the fact that, because there is little to no evidence implicating them and Joker adamantly denied their involvement, there is the very real possibility (at least to the police) that they may not actually be part of the Thieves. 

Joker had a lot of associates during his time in Tokyo, and figuring out which are Thieves and which are not runs the risk of the police arresting the wrong person based on little evidence, and landing themselves in hot water afterward. Especially with how popular the Thieves are. So there is really nothing they can do about the rest of the Thieves.

As for the public, because the police have so little to go about regarding the rest of the Thieves identities, the public knows even less. There’s likely speculation, based on the info regarding Joker’s identity that was leaked, but nothing even remotely close to concrete. At the very least, they have some silhouettes and the knowledge that one must be a hacker in order to have stopped Medjed and broadcasted Shido’s calling card.

Akechi

Police & Public: Know he infiltrated the Phantom Thieves in order to orchestrate their arrest before mysteriously disappearing.

Akechi is in an interesting position. After Joker was captured, he went on television and explained to the public how he infiltrated the Thieves in order to get them arrested. Him being a double agent Phantom Thief is public knowledge, no leaking or digging required.

The tricky part is figuring out what people know about everything else. Shido being his father, him being the perpetrator of mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns, and all that. Sae is aware of his role regarding the deaths, but it is left unclear if it is just her or if that knowledge was shared with the justice system as a whole. Considering he went missing, bringing up his role in it all might have been considered unnecessary. There is an argument to be made for them knowing and them not knowing.

Similarly with the public, it is unclear whether or not his involvement would be brought up. In any court hearings regarding Shido’s case, they could have easily referred to Akechi as simply “Shido’s metaverse assassin.” Naming him directly is possible, but not necessary, so it is unclear what the public knows.

Confidants

Police: Runs the gambit of No Evidence of Connection to Plausible Deniability is King.

Public: Varies based on public presence.

The confidants find themselves in a variety of interesting situations, based on how much they revealed when trying to get Joker out of jail at the end of the game. Regardless, all of them have plausible deniability. Which is to say that, even if they revealed that they knew the leader of the Phantom Thieves when making their case for his release, they can all say that they did not know until after his arrests, and there is no way for the police to prove otherwise. As such, none of them are actually in danger of any legal retaliation.

Overall, things are on a more case-by-case basis for the confidants, so I’ll go through them one-by-one.

Sojiro

Guardian of the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Police know, but claims plausible deniability (didn’t know Joker was a Thief).

Public could find him out by looking into Joker’s identity.

Chihaya

Claims the Phantom Thieves changed the ADP Chairman’s heart and freed them all from the cult.

Does not need to claim a personal connection to Joker to convince her people to protest his arrest. 

As such, police and public likely have no knowledge of her connection.

Iwai

Uses his connections to make certain that Joker is not harmed while in prison.

Under the table - police and public have no knowledge of connection.

Note - Police could technically attempt to trace Joker’s purchases to connect him to Iwai, but Iwai still has plausible deniability (didn’t know what he was buying them for; didn’t care). 

That is, assuming Joker didn’t make all his purchases in cash. And that the police were able to get ahold of one of the Thieves’ weapons.

Takemi

Reveals that Joker was the main participant in the test trials for her new drug in order to bolster his positive public image.

Plausible deniability. Had no idea he was a Thief when they were doing the trials.

Kawakami

Acts as part of Shujin in general when pushing for Joker’s release. Public already had a hunch that Shujin was the leader’s school, and this just confirms it.

All teachers have plausible deniability.

By looking into Joker’s identity, public could find out that Kawakami was Joker’s homeroom teacher, but not much else.

Ohya

Finds the lady from the first case and convinces her to admit to the police what truly happened. Also writes a special article about the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

Has no need to reveal a personal connection. She’s simply a reporter doing her job. Police and public have no clue.

Shinya

Rallies the gaming community to protest Joker’s arrest online.

Does not reveal a personal connection. Simply says that Joker is the number 1 ranked player on Gun About (makes sense considering their minor takeover of the website for the start of Shinya’s route) and that he wants to play against him. Police and public have no clue.

Hifumi

Admits publicly on television her personal connection to Joker when pushing for his release.

Plausible deniability. Had no idea that he was a Thief prior to his arrest.

Mishima

Admits publicly his personal connection to Joker when collecting signatures pushing for his release.

Plausible deniability. Had no idea that he was a Thief prior to his arrest.

Yoshida

Protests Joker’s arrest and pushes for his release. Rallies his base and fellow politicians.

Has no need to reveal a personal connection. Simply a politician taking a stance on an important public issue. Police and public have no clue.

Sae

The prosecutor for the Phantom Thief case and Shido’s case.

Public and police know that she is aware of his true identity, as she actively met him.

Public not aware of any personal connection between her and Joker, just the professional connection.

So what’s the most the public could know about the Phantom Thieves?

The average person could know:

Joker’s true identity.

His parents’ names.

His hometown.

The jobs he worked.

His record.

etc.

His guardian in Tokyo was Sojiro Sakura, owner of Cafe Leblanc.

Sojiro has an adopted daughter named Futaba.

He went to Shujin Academy and had Kawakami, Ushimaru, Hiruta, Inui, Chouno, and Usami as teachers.

While at Shujin, he became friends with Yuuki Mishima.

He participated in drug trials run by Tae Takemi.

At some point, he became friends with Hifumi Togo.

One of his friends and possibly fellow Thief is a hacker.

There are seven Phantom Thieves (excluding Akechi), plus the cat mascot.

He played Gun About and was top of the leaderboard.

To get the Thieves arrested, Goro Akechi briefly pretended to be his friend and joined the Thieves.

When arrested, he was interrogated by Sae Nijima. Later on, he interacted with her when testifying against Shido.

Someone who did some digging could also know:

While at Shujin, he also became friends with…

Ryuji Sakamoto

Ann Takamaki

Makoto Nijima

Haru Okumura

Besides Hifumi Togo, he was also friends with Yusuke Kitagawa from Kosei.

Yuuki Mishima runs the Phansite.

He got extra tutoring from Kawakami after school (not what actually happened but what Kawakami’s confidant route was passed off as to Chuono).

Some theories might be:

The “cat mascot” is the Alibaba cat icon.

Both are cats connected to the thieves, and they only see the silhouette of Mona, so it is likely assumed that Mona has the blue crescent eyes, slasher grin, and bomb tail of the Alibaba cat icon.

Tae Takemi is the Thieve’s doctor.

The protag participated in her drug trials. Even if just after the interrogation, he likely needed medical attention. So, though she claims plausible deniability, people likely assume she knew who he was.

Makoto is NOT a Thief and DID NOT KNOW about Joker’s identity until after his arrest.

Her sister was literally the one leading the prosecution. Sae is shown to be a competent prosecutor. Wouldn’t she have realized her sister was one of the people she was trying to catch? Plus, what about conflict of interest?

Likely theories that Joker becoming friends with Makoto helped win Sae over to his side.

Shujin students likely state online that Makoto was spying on him for the principal because of his record, but then seemingly became his friend overtime.

Joker proved he was a good and just person despite his record, so they became friends, but she never suspected his secret identity.

(Maybe even dating?! There’s definitely arguments online on if Joker is in a relationship and some are ride or die for Makoto. Everyone knows the most common love interest is the one outside of the loop that you can’t reveal your secret identity to for fear of them getting hurt!)

Hifumi Togo is a Phantom Thief.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why would she reveal her connection to him if she was a Thief? Isn’t that stupid?

But that’s just what she WANTS you to think! STRATEGY!!

Because people think she would never do it, she did it! Perfect. Alibi.

Likely argued to be Futaba’s silhouette.

(Probably a very contentious theory. Lots of arguing on the forums.)

Yusuke is a Phantom Thief.

Most of the Phantom Thief cases (that are not minor Phansite requests) seem to have a personal focus.

Joker is a student at Shujin and both Kamoshida and Kaneshiro had some connection to the school. Shido attempted to kill Joker, and was also the reason he was on probation in the first place. Medjed actively targeted the Thieves and Okumura was at the top of the Phansite’s poll.

Which leaves Madarame as the odd one out. So, clearly, there must be some personal connection. And with Joker having been seen hanging out with Yusuke, that must mean he’s a Phantom Thief!

Argued to be Makoto’s silhouette.

Yuuki Mishima is the Phantom Thieves’ hacker.

He runs the Phansite, after all. He’s already involved in their tech stuff.

Now, whether he IS a Phantom Thief or just works for them is likely a big debate.

Some think he’s their “guy in the chair” who doesn’t directly participate but relays missions, hacks websites, and acts as mission control. 

Others think he’s the cat, controlling it as a remote control robot.

Ryuji and Ann are Phantom Thieves.

Plausible deniability or not, their silhouettes are just too distinct. Especially Ann.

Plus they were so close at the start of the year. Clearly, it’s suspicious.

Mika is a Phantom Thief.

Hear me out. Fox’s mask and high collar makes it so that you can’t actually see his hair length. She could totally be hiding her long hair in her jacket!

Plus, everyone knows that Mika and Ann are fashion rivals! And what's a vigilante crack team without some rivalries in the group? Joker was even seen with the two of them a few times!

This came to be purely because of the cross of fashionistas and Phans. Mika milks the theory for all the publicity it is worth.

Haru is a Phantom Thief.

There was BIG debate over Haru and her status. After all, are you really gonna say this sweet, lovely girl killed her father?

But, then again, the Phantom Thieves were proven innocent in the murder of Okumura. So the question changes. Not: Did she want to kill him? Instead: Did she want to change his heart?

BUT THEN AGAIN her father was a member of the Conspiracy, wasn’t he? Who’s to say she didn’t know about that already? Hell, who’s to say she wasn’t INVOLVED?

The fight tends to break into three separate groups. Group one says she got involved to change her father’s heart. Group two says she got involved after her father’s death, to find out what actually happened and catch the person who actually killed her father. And group three says she was part of the Conspiracy herself and joined to take the Thieves down, only to get attached and do a heel-face-turn redemption.

Group three also tends to make her friends with Akechi, as he also infiltrated to take the Thieves down. His awareness of the Conspiracy is unclear, but regardless those in group three tend to have Haru and Akechi turn on the police and Conspiracy to try and save the Thieves, only for Akechi to die or disappear so that Haru can escape.

Akechi cared about the Thieves/Had SOMETHING going on with Joker.

I mean, you don’t reference romance tropes during an interview regarding his time with the Thieves for nothing. The double agent can’t just be a double agent.

See the above dying for Haru theory. But also there are a lot of people that think Akechi and Joker were dating.

Suffice it to say, they don’t get along very well with the people who ship Joker/Makoto.

[narumi-gens]

heading north gojo satoru x f!reader

minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, pregnancy, major jjk manga spoilers, some angst (angst-adjacent?)

"your students are worried about you."

the heaviness of your words is undercut by your flippant tone. you wonder if satoru is surprised that you're waiting to greet him moments after he's finished slaughtering the higher-ups or if he was expecting you to be nearby.

"they tell you about their plan?" he asks, casually tossing his arm over your shoulders as he begins to lead you away from the carnage.

"you mean the plan for after you die? where yuuta cuts open your skull, takes out your brain, and swaps it for his?" you reply dryly as you wrap your own arm around his waist, instinctively holding him close for warmth as you both exit the dark corridor to be confronted with the early winter chill. you sigh softly and shake your head. "no, shoko did. I think they were too scared of my reaction."

"I don't blame them. those pregnancy hormones are no joke!" he teases, only to immediately hiss in pain when you give his side a harsh pinch. neither of you comment on how it only hurt because he let it.

silence settles over you and part of you thinks that he's going to let the conversation end there. after all, satoru has always been happy to let a serious discussion end prematurely with an annoyingly playful comment.

"you want them to leave my corpse alone?" it's as much a question posed out of curiosity as it is an offer. it's so unexpected that your feet come to a stop on their own.

he turns to face you and you can only look up at him thoughtfully, mulling over what he's asking you.

"no," you finally say with a shrug. "as long as it's disposed of properly after everything's over and done with, I don't care what they do with it. besides, you won't lose so it doesn't matter anyway."

a cheeky grin slowly tugs at the corner of his lips before he drops down to crouch in front of you. he slips his hands – the same hands that just wiped out the higher-ups in one fell swoop – beneath your coat to press a palm on either side of your protruding belly.

"you hear that? your mom's my number one fan!" he says in a stage whisper, speaking directly to your unborn child, his unborn child. you can only roll your eyes as you suppress the urge to flick his forehead.

you can feel his thumb rubbing circles through the fabric of your sweater and as he continues to gaze at your baby bump, something passes over his expression that you can't quite read.

"hm, maybe the jujutsu world won't have to wait another 400 years before there's another limitless user with the six eyes," he muses and your mouth suddenly feels dry.

the statement is weighted by the implication of his death, but it's something you look past to focus instead on what inheriting both the limitless and the six eyes would mean for your child's future.

"you'd curse our child with that?" you manage to finally ask with a small frown, your voice slightly rough.

it's not only the target that would be painted on their back that concerns you, but also the weight and expectations that would be placed on their shoulders from the moment they were born.

"if it meant their safety," he answers, his tone and demeanor both uncharacteristically serious.

you want to argue with him, to tell him that being given such great power would be the thing that puts them at risk. but instead, you ask him something else.

"you'd curse me with that?" there's something fragile in your question and your voice that has him lifting those cursed eyes to look up at you. you both know what you're really asking.

would he trust you to raise his child alone? would he trust you to keep them safe, until they were strong enough to protect themselves? would he curse you with doing what he might be unable to?

"with this?" he raises an eyebrow and glances down at your bump meaningfully. "who else would I curse but you?"

your eyes feel wet and you can only nod, unable to find the right words. instead, you lift your hands and cup his where they're still holding your belly.

despite the chaos and danger hanging over your heads and on the horizon, you take the opportunity to savor this moment – you and satoru together, your future, your legacy, held in your shared embrace.

a small thought comes to you and a faint smile forms on your lips.

"maybe they won't be born with the limitless and they'll get something different. or maybe even nothing at all and they'll have to find their own strength." your words seem to strike something in him because he gently rests his forehead on your bump. "maybe they won't have to be chained down with the burden of being the gojo heir."

he softly snorts, but you know him well enough by this point to tell that he's smiling.

"maybe they can start anew, huh?" he asks, amusement lacing his tone.

he stays where he is for another moment, his head bowed reverently to you and his child, and when he looks back up at you, he immediately takes note of the way your eyes are shining. a wide grin lights up his annoyingly handsome face.

"you cryin'? I told you those pregnancy hormones are wild!"

you're quick to shove his hands off of you and give his shoulders a hard push so that he falls over, relishing the way he cries out. as you begin to walk away from him, you're grateful that with him at your back, he can't see the grin on your lips that matches his perfectly.

[vinomino]

You start dying the day you are born.

Memories of a relationship A man traversing grief and single fatherhood at the same time

Featuring: Togame.J x F!Reader

Contents: NSFW MDNI, one smut scene, fluff to heavy angst, hurt w/o comfort, ambiguous/open ending, pregnancy&birth, set post-canon, part two set in Togame’s pov, major character death, implication of suicide(Togame), heavy grief, self-induced vomiting(Togame), girl dad!Togame, not beta read

WC: 10k

Part 1

[January 15]

It was a cold winter and the soft blue mohair scarf tucked your neck away from the snowy breeze. The sun does little to warm the earth. Cafe signs read Festive Lattes, with the promise of bringing heat into bellies. You shivered and the hand around yours slightly squeezed tight. Togame releases himself from your grip to tighten your scarf, lifting the edges to cover more of your face. When he’s done, he kisses your nose, making you giggle uncontrollably. Flecks of snow cover his black hair like a string of lights. Your fingers skim the icy air when you reach up to brush his hair, melting the white away. His emerald green eyes crinkle and wrinkles form at the corners as he looks upon you with his heart. A milky swirl escapes his mouth when he talks.

“Don’t get sick.” 

“I won’t.” 

[May 2]

Water drips off the umbrella that Togame is holding between the two of you. Standing on your tippy-toes you pluck the sunglasses off the tip of his nose, you place them on your own. 

“How can you see with these on? It’s raining, you know?” Squinting your eyes to make out the pole of the street lamp. 

“I can see just fine.” 

“Why do I feel like you’re lying?” 

“I would never lie to you.” He scratches his chin trying to sound nonchalant about what he said, but his tone is far from the truth. 

The truth is, he lives by those words– Togame would never lie to you. I won’t look away and stay true to myself!! He won’t look away and run, he’ll stare at you even if you burn the sight out of his eyes. He never knew life could be this bright for someone like him until you came along, forced your way into his world, and made it your dwelling. If Choji was his sun– you had to be greater than that, you were one of those stars millions of miles away that make the sun pale in comparison. The orange ombre shades are tilted, it’s too big for you. The corner of his lips tugs up into a smirk, he grips the bridge of the sunglasses and pulls them off. His heart stutters when he sees you directly looking into his eyes. 

[June 30]

Love Love Love Love Love

Togame can’t count how many times that word slipped out of your mouth. You lay beside him on the attic floor as you tell him about all the things– everything you love. From your favorite color to what shoes you want to buy. On the other hand, he doesn’t remember if he ever said that word before. There was a lack of love in his life, in his teens, most of his attention went to Shishitoren and becoming strong. To be strong is to be free. Togame believes he has yet to overcome the barriers that prevent him from giving and receiving affection. All the relationships that he “fell in love” in only brought him pain. 

But he was at ease laying on the creaking wooden floorboards in the cobwebbed dingy attic. His past partners told him he was never enough and he considered that the bleak truth, he just wasn’t cut out for love. What he’s feeling next to you is vivid and it explodes through every vein that makes up his body. Every cell in him is trying to connect to yours like magnets.

“So, what do you love?” You turn your neck to look at him. 

“I…” he pauses, “...I love…you.” 

You give him a cheeky smile, “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” 

“Do you not want to?” His lips remain parted. 

“I want to…but I’ve already been calling myself your girlfriend.” 

You laugh. He laughs.

[August 14] 

Even during the night, the air is still hot and humid, sticking to his bare skin. Sand nestles itself into the crevices of your feet and knees and sweeps through. You rest your head on Togame’s shoulder, the towel wrapped around the both of you soaks up the water dripping off your hair. Daybreak is quickly approaching, the sun is going to rise soon. It was a last-minute decision to go to the beach, Togame and you swam until the sun came up. You can still smell the saltwater when he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. Shifting, your legs bump into his. 

It was a sight to behold, the bright rays spewed over the rippling sea, creating multicolored spots along the surface of the water. “It’s pretty…” You mumble, nuzzling into him. Togame replies, “Yeah, it is.” But he wasn’t looking ahead, he was looking at you. He swears he’s in the presence of an angel, a mystery in this world that can’t be explained by human intellect. How can a being be so perfect? Togame thought. 

Togame never considered himself a sentimental dreamer who fancies romance, but at this moment he’s thinking about all the future moments you’ll share with him, ones just like this. You sneeze and he pulls you into his lap, wraps his arms around you, and spills his warmth into you. The sky continues to blaze brightly.

[November 3] 

“It’s alright.” You softly murmur. 

Clothes were strewn across the floor, spread about in heaps. Sweat drips off Togame’s hair and splatters on the skin between your breasts. He’s had sex before, sex with people he thought he was in love with, sex with girls in bar bathrooms, but it all pales in comparison to what he’s going through right now. He strains himself still so he doesn’t come undone from only entering you like a teenage virgin boy having his first time. Togame reopens his eyes when you caress his jawline, he tightens his hand around yours, pressing it into the sheets as he steadies himself. His muscles contort when he rolls his hips, a breathy exhale and he feels his eyes roll back into his skull. 

The sensation was better than he could’ve ever dreamed of, your warm walls wrapped around him snugly. You weren’t faring any better, soft mewls bounce off the walls of his bedroom as he fucks deeper into you. Neither of you rushed to have your first time together until the build-up and tension finally broke the dam. When you couldn’t stop craving Togame and he couldn’t stop craving you. 

He felt your nails crawl along his spine. 

“Jo…” You whimper when he nudges your cervix. Upon hearing his name, he dives down for a kiss. A hungry and passionate desire, eating up all your moans, swallowing every sound you make. Togame hears a symphony when you chant his name as you near your orgasm. You wrap your legs around his waist and he hugs you into his chest as you two groan into each other’s ears. There isn’t a single millimeter separating your bodies. Only skin, tissue, and bones separate your hearts. 

[December 25] 

Children sing choirs, holiday banners are strung up all around town, and the snow packs on top of the grass. On the kitchen counter, two cups of hot cacao emit steam. Holding each handle in your hands, you walk back to the couch. 

“Here.” You place one in front of Togame who is wrapped up in a funny patterned blanket. A gag gift from one of his friends; cats wearing Santa hats. “Thanks, baby.” He blows on the surface, moving the chocolatey milk concoction.

You sit down on the couch next to him, pulling a throw over yourself as well. A white fuzzy material, the warm mug heats your hands. The heater broke earlier this morning and no nearby businesses are open and working during Christmas. So, you have to endure it until the next day. Thankfully, your boyfriend was as hot as a furnace. He double-wraps you with his blanket and snuggles up to you. 

Despite the cold, you had fun. Ripped wrapping paper stuffed the trash bin to the brim. The gifts Togame and you got each other laid on the coffee table with the plate full of gingerbread men cookies you two decorated together. He made you and forced you to eat the cookie because he said he couldn’t bear to eat you in cookie form. 

“You tired?” He noticed your wide yawn. 

Blinking slowly, you reply, “Yeah.” 

Togame hums and lays down on the couch, opening his arm for you to lie on his torso. You immediately crawl on top of him and plop down, basking in his body heat, you sigh. He chuckles and his chest rumbles against your head. “Rest up, darling.” 

[February 16] 

You currently watch Togame giddily dart around the kitchen trying to remake a dish he learned for you. He had picked up a job as a chef and was excited to show you all his new skills. Squeaky clean knives are placed on the countertop as he pulls the kelp around the fresh orange salmon. Resting your face on your hand, “What’re you going to make, Jo?” You ask. 

“Ochazuke (green tea over rice).” He responds while pre-heating the oven. 

Togame repeats what the seniors at work taught him– unwrapping and placing the salmon onto the baking sheet. He turns to skillfully chop the scallions, displaying his new ability. You giggle at the view. When the salmon turns crispy, he brews the tea. Rice, furikake, a pickled plum, and the salmon are placed in two bowls. “Watch.” You lean over and he pours the tea in, submerging all the ingredients in a light broth. 

“Can I get a kiss for my hard work now?” He turns his cheek to you. 

You laugh and press a chaste peck on his cheekbone. 

[March 24] 

Petals float into his eyes as he squeezes through the crowd, most are donning capes and caps. Togame eyes dart around trying to find you at the meetup location you informed him of. An hour ago, you walked across the stage and got your diploma. “Jo!” He snaps his head to where your voice came from and sees you speed over towards him. The cloak enveloped you so perfectly, like a veil. “Jo, I was looking for you.” He smiles, you look so proud and happy, the years paid off, “Me too.” He would always look for you. This love nurtured him, he’ll love you forever.

“Was it really okay for you to take today off?” You fret. 

“They didn’t mind at all.” Togame cups your face with his hands, “I’m so proud of you.” 

Your smile is squished up.

[April 13]

“Happy birthday, happy birthday to you!” All his friends are in the room when you place the cake in front of him. An ice cream cake with chocolate, vanilla, and cookie crumbles in the middle. “Happy Birthday” is scribbled in black gel on the top. Enough sugar is packed into it to make someone sick. The numbered candles flicker and the flames wave with the slightest breath. Everyone cheers and claps. 

“Blow it out!” 

“Make a wish!” 

“C’mon, birthday boy!” 

“Jo, happy birthday.” You fix the cone hat on his head. The hat his friends– mainly Choji, forced him to wear. They whistle. 

Togame chuckles and deeply inhales, extinguishing all the candles in one single blow. Smoke bellows out. You clap your hands as the room erupts in laughter, you’re looking at him with hearts in your eyes. “Happy birthday, baby.” You give him a big fat wet kiss on the chin. He catches a glimpse of the golden balloon banner: Happy Birthday! 

[July 1]

Orange juice drips down the sides of your fingers, you lick it up. The sour-sweet liquid mingles on your tastebuds. 

The juicer shakes– destroying, tearing, and squeezing everything the fruit is capable of offering. Its peel releases a mellow citrus scent that fogs up the room. Halves, quarters, and slices are funneled into the machine. The pulp gets caught by the mesh strainer, its counterpart flows smoothly into the jug below. You turn and wash the sticky coating off your hands in the sink. 

The door jingles open.

“I’m home.” Togame places his bag down on the bench and heads over to you. “What’re you making, darling?” 

“Orange juice, do you want some?” You pour it into a cup and hold it up to his lips– you know he’ll take it. 

Togame does, placing his hand under to tip the content into his mouth. The watch on his wrist tells the time: 8:31 PM. He gulps– swallowing all the orange’s hard work. You drink it off his tongue when he presses his lips to yours. 

[August 20]

Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium

“Jo, Jo, look!” 

He traces his eyes to where you’re gesturing at. It’s a huge tank, a wide variety of fish swim about, and in the middle, a whale shark glides along the current. Many hold up their phones to snap photos. Your bag weighs the left of his shoulder down, you’re weighing him down and he’s glad that you are. The blue illuminating from the tank caresses the features of your face, exposing you to the blind eye. He harbors a profoundly tender, undoubtedly affection for the person by his side. One of the simplest, yet most complex feelings he has ever touched.  

You stare in awe as the manta ray flaps its wings, radiating eminence like a dove soaring through the skies. 

“Where should we go next?” Togame opens up the pamphlet the worker gave him again, he scans through the map. Next is the 3F Journey to a Coral Reef: A World Brimming with Colorful Marine Life. “Do you want to see the corals?”

“Let’s go see it together.” You clasp his hand in yours, intertwining fingers. Even now, he gets butterflies tickling his belly. 

[September 4]

The alarm blares on the nightstand. You shuffle, letting out a groan, and extending your hand to get a hold of your phone, and you squint your eyes to read the time: 6:01 AM. Sitting up, you stretch your arms above your head, waking up every muscle. Togame stirs beside you, grumbling something incoherent. You stifle a laugh and bend to kiss his forehead. He wakes up later, the restaurant doesn’t open until the afternoon. 

Water splashes on your face as you get ready. 

Fully dressed, you pack your bag. “G’morning…” Togame leans against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes. “Good morning, are you coming back later today?” You ask. It’s a Wednesday and Togame usually heads to the gym after work on Wednesdays. “Hmm, yeah, I think so.” He rasps out. “Have a good day, baby.” Togame kisses the corner of your mouth when you walk to the front door. 

“You too.” Opening the door and peeking to see him before you shut it. “I’m off,” you call out and he waves. 

[September 27]

It’s late, your period is late by three weeks. You run a hand over your face as the test sits on the ceramic bathroom sink. Palms sweaty as you lean over the rendering test. The first line. Your nerves tingle as you await the verdict. The latex microbeads are the judge of how your life will continue, you wait with bated breaths. 

You want Togame, you want him to hold you in his arms instead of standing in the bathroom alone. A second line. 

Togame is wiping a chopping board down when a phone rings. “Hey, it’s yours Togame!” A voice informs him. He makes his way to the back alley to call you back, you never call during his work hours. His stomach clenches as the device continues to ring. 

Sniffles emerge when the call is picked up. “Are you crying? What’s wrong?” Togame feels sweat form all over his body. 

“Can you come home?” You choke at the end. 

“Sure, I’ll come home right now– sit tight,” Togame informs his coworkers of an emergency and rushes back to the apartment where he finds you on the bathroom floor. “Are you alright? What happened?” He pushes damp strands of hair out of your face. You press your hand against him. “The test,” gesturing to the sink. Togame slowly stands up and notices the test along with the two lines. 

“It’s alright, we’ll figure it out,” he presses your head into his shoulder, his shirt soaking up your tears. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re the most important person to me. I love you.” His hand rubs up and down your back, as you seek comfort, trembling in his hold. 

Tears stain your cheeks as you lay on the pillow next to him, breathing hitching every few seconds. “I’m okay, we’re okay. I love you. I’m here for you, darling.” You nod as he strokes your wet face. His heart pumps out a thousand prayers: I love you, I love you, I love you. 

“Togame…Togame!” Another chef pats his back to get his attention.

“Oh– yes?” 

“You alright? You’ve been spacing out, did something happen?” All his coworkers confirm the man’s concern. 

Togame licks his lips, “I’m, uh…gonna be a father.” 

The whole kitchen stops what they’re doing and congratulates him. Hugs, handshakes, and pats and showered on the new prospective dad. The workers who were already fathers gave advice and ruffled his hair. His boss sends him home for the day. 

He tells the news to his acquaintances, friends, best friends, past lovers, and the cats on the way back to you. He tells the trees, the flowers, and the pebbles. He wants to tell the whole world. 

[October 12]

A pack of letters tied together with a red ribbon is left on the tabletop. 

You see it when you wake up and head to the kitchen. There’s a cup of tea next to the stack. You sit down and pick up the letters, turning them around to inspect what they could contain. The ribbon pulls apart in one tug. A multitude of envelopes splatter on top of one another. You pick one up, open it, and pull out the card. 

Happy 7th Birthday! 

You’re no longer a toddler, you can write and tie your own shoes now! That’s a big girl achievement. How amazing, I know I wasn’t around to see it, but I’m sure everyone was so proud. 7 is a big deal. Skip another step on hopscotch, let ice cream drip all over the floor, run down the slides, and have an amazing 7th birthday. 

– Togame Jo

Picking up another random envelope:

Happy Sweet 16th,

High school must be difficult, but I’m sure you can handle it. All your classmates and friends are at school waiting for you. I hope the sun shined a little brighter this year as you tackle tests and homework. 16-year-old you will be so happy to see who she has become, getting into college, and studying your favorite subject. Wishing you the happiest 16th year. 

– Togame Jo

Happy 18th Birthday! 

Wow, you’re now an adult! It’s your last year of high school, you’re about to graduate! You must’ve worked hard. I honestly don’t remember much about 18-year-old me, but I’m sure you do. So, just know that I think 18-year-old you was remarkable. Your kindness is so much bigger than you give it credit, I thought that when you told me about the cat you saved when you were 18. Adulthood must’ve been scary to imagine, but now you start making big choices and defining who you’ll be in life (p.s. you did that well). 

– Togame Jo

Happy 19th! 

We meet this year, isn’t that something? I can recall when I first saw you, you looked like a fairy. I believe I fell in love at first sight (It’s true). The way you carried yourself up until now is inspiring. We got to know each other and kissed, when we kissed for the first time I thought my heart was going to explode. Sometimes I lay in bed and wonder: what if we never met? I get filled with worry, but then don’t care because I would’ve found you either way. We were meant to be together. Happy birthday sweetheart. 

– Love, Togame Jo

Happy 1st Birthday!

You probably didn’t know it back then, but you were about to embark on a wonderful journey. You’ll meet people, make friends, and be surrounded by love (1-year-old you is really cute, by the way).

– Togame Jo

Happy 22! 

I got to spend this birthday with you. But I want to say all the things I said that day again; I love you, I’m so happy I got to meet you, you’re astonishing. I wake up and think about how much I’m blessed to be your boyfriend. You graduate soon– I could talk forever about all the things that happened this year. Let’s go back to the beach and swim all night again. Can I say it yet? I’m excited to be able to write this. 

– Your future husband, Togame Jo. 

There are more letters on the table, a card for each birthday up until this year. The tea has cooled down as you place the last letter of the most recent birthday down. A tear hits the paper, creating a dark spot– you didn’t even realize you were crying. You feel so tender and vulnerable, your heart is split open like a plum. For a split second, you see yourself in the reflection of the black screen before you open the phone up. Togame’s location is right outside the front door. 

The doorknob shakes as you grip it with your quivering hand. You pull the door back, there stands Togame with a bouquet of peonies. 

“Did you finish reading them?” 

You sniffle, tears pouring down your cheeks. You’re unable to speak. 

“Don’t cry–” He fumbles a bit before shoving the bouquet into your face. You break out into a smile and laugh, accepting and holding the flowers in your hands. He gets down on one knee and opens the black velvet box, revealing a shiny ring on the cushion. “Will– Will you marry me?” Togame stops breathing. 

“Yes, Jo– I’ll marry you.” 

His fingers feel cold when he slides the band onto your left ring finger. When he stands up, you drop the bouquet and wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Have you been standing out here all morning?” You rub his cheek. 

“Anything for my wife.” 

[November 9]

I do. I do.

The wedding was a small gathering of family and friends. But it was the wedding of your dreams, marrying the man you loved. 

“Did you really cry when you saw me?” You roll onto your side to talk to your husband. 

“I did, you were so beautiful.” 

“That’s so cheesy.” 

“I’m always cheesy with it comes to you.” 

Togame moves closer to you, shifting the bed while doing so. He places his hand over your womb, “I never thought I would have a family,” he stops to steady his vocal cords. “I was a delinquent, you know? Always up to no good and fighting was all I did.” Togame blinks and a wet film forms over his green eyes. “Now, now– I have a wife and I’m going to be a father,” his voice cracks. “I’m really happy, I love you, I love us, I love our baby.” Togame cries, tears roll off his lashes and onto the cotton pillowcase. 

You pull him towards you and he buries his head into your chest. Your fingers card through his short black hair, there is still some gel left in it. “I know, I know…I feel the same way too. I love you, Jo.” You softly whisper to him, he shakes like a leaf against you. November is mid-winter, it should be cold, but it’s warm. 

[April 29] 

“When are you due?” Your friend sips her smoothie looking at your showing stomach. 

“The doctor said sometime in late June.” You take a bite of the cheesy waffle. 

“Awe, I’m so excited to meet little Rie.” She gushes. 

Rie was the name Togame and you chose for your baby girl, meaning blessing. The cafe is bustling, college students and the elderly alike come and go as you chat with your high school friend. You were on maternity leave and waiting for the date. The emerald-cut diamond ring is comfortably splayed on your finger when you go to pick up the cup of water. You miss Togame even though you saw him a few hours ago.

“How are things going between you and your husband– actually I can’t believe you’re married. Back in high school, you were on a roll, really, none of our old friends believed me when I said you got married and were pregnant. It’s amazing, everyone thought you would take longer to settle down– even I thought you never were going to.” Her lips curl up. “I’m happy for you, I mean it. Togame– Jo, wow, you’re also a Togame now. He’s good for you, you’re practically shining– don’t they call it pregnancy glow? I think you’re glowing.” 

You laugh at her words, “Oh, yeah. I once thought in high school that I’d never have a family. Now, I don’t regret anything. At first, I was scared. You know? I thought the world was going to end, but Jo– he really helped me back then. Back then, all I did was cry– no, seriously I cried all day and night. He took a few days off work and calmed me down. I’m grateful for him. This might sound dumb, but– I think he’s my soulmate– don’t laugh. I just can’t imagine myself with another man who isn’t Jo or even having a kid with someone who’s not Jo.” 

The two of you continue to talk until Togame picks you up to go home. 

[June 25]

The hospital's fluorescent lights shine all around you. Stars start forming all around the room like a nebula you see in a space photo. Each star twinkles in an array of colors. Your body is sweaty as you heave, the nurse takes a cloth and wipes your forehead, but it still feels damp. It hurts? It hurts. Everything is tingling. She peels the gown down, exposing your chest, and places a newborn– your newborn on your bare skin. A tiny yellow hat is on her head. Seven pounds and four ounces. Rie, she’s coated in a mixture of liquids as she cries at the top of her lungs into your breast. 

“Oh, you’re so little…” Tears slip down your face as you tuck your chin to see her. 

Togame leans his forehead against your temple, “Thank you– thank you for being born safely.” Her cheeks are so tiny in comparison to Togame’s index finger. You cry and all the emotions welled up in you pour out into the delivery room. A healthy baby girl. 

[October 18]

The curtains blow with the wind. 

“Why’re there so many windows?” Choji places a cardboard box in the middle of an empty room and skips around. 

“She said she wanted a house with a lot of windows.” Togame thinks back. I want all the windows open– there has to be a lot of windows. 

“Really?” Sako and Inugami enter with even more boxes. Arima comes back down from the second floor, “How exciting man, you got a family.” He grins and walks to his former Shishitoren members. 

His Shishitoren pals move furniture and set up the house, and even some old Bofurin come around and lend a hand. 

“Rie, right? Congrats.” Umemiya pats his shoulder with a grin. Togame thanks the white-haired man. 

“Sakura, that goes into the nursery,” Nirei instructs the two-toned boy. 

“Hah? Where’s that?” 

“Over here.” 

Togame watches everyone come together to help him set up the new house. It makes him feel funny inside that all these people took time out of their days to dedicate it to him. He set one foot in front of the other, it felt like a heavenly blessing bestowed upon him, a man young and in love. Rie was absolutely lovely and pure as light, she resembled you more. Waking up to you and Rie made him feel like he was basking infinitely in the sunshine. There was no other word than “love” that could describe these days. People spend their whole lives searching for it, saying that it doesn’t exist when it doesn’t grace them with its presence. 

[November 8]

Rie was growing fast, a bit too fast for Togame’s liking. He still wanted her to remain small and tiny for just a little longer, for there to be more moments where you all lay on the rug together. Rie nibbled on her toy, her skin was velvety and soft as bread. You coo at her and take the toy away from her mouth, she kicks and fusses. 

“Shhh…” Togame watches you calm her down, stroking her puffy cheek with the back of your finger. “Ah, could you watch her? I want to head to the store to buy more milk.” You sit up and pat your clothes down. 

“I can go instead.” 

“Stay here with Rie, have some daddy and daughter time.” You press your nose into him and stand up. 

He relents, you’ve been with the baby ever since you got back from the hospital, and he knows you need some time alone. “Alright, be safe. Okay, honey?” He crosses his legs and places Rie in his lap. “Say bye-bye to mommy.” He grins and waves her miniature arm at you. 

“Bye-bye Rie, mommy will be back soon, be good for daddy.” You blow a kiss at your husband and baby. 

Part 2

Grief is love with nowhere to go. 

Wailing fills the room, there’s no other noise he can hear. Togame grips the bars of the crib to the point where his knuckles turn white. He felt his soul being ripped apart, opening the gates for an agonizing pain– terrible and airless, it wraps its claws around his throat, a silent asphyxiation. There’s a desire in him, to fill his pockets with stones and head into the sea. How can he live without you? How can you leave him? Rie continues to cry and cry and cry. His hands are stinging, indents on his palms when he lets go. 

She’s crying out for you– for her mother. Togame stands up, the tears on her pudgy cheeks mirror his. Your blood mixed with his runs through this child’s veins. He picks Rie up and rests her against his shoulder, patting her back to try and soothe her to no avail. It’s almost like she’s mourning her mother’s death. Falling to his knees, he cries alongside her, two trembling people clinging onto one another. The moonlight moves around the nursery, the white glow is the only source of light. Her little hand clenches his shirt. She must be hungry, he forces himself up to make a bottle of milk. Copying everything he saw you do, but Rie doesn’t take to the bottle. She doesn’t latch onto it. He’s at his wit's end. Why didn’t he pay more attention to what you did? Why didn’t he question you on how to calm the baby down? Why did he never think to ask you how to take care of Rie? Because he believed you would always be here– be beside him. You were immortal to him until you weren’t. 

Togame snaps awake, gasping, his eyes dart around the room. Rie is snoozing in his arms, he is still supporting her body against his chest. His mind fell asleep, but his body didn’t. He lets out a sigh. The full bottle is set on the table. Slowly, he gets up off the chair, walks over to the crib, and places Rie gently down on the mattress. Togame holds his breath as he lets go, she doesn’t stir. Quietly, he walks out of the room and down the hall into the living room. His pillow is on the couch, the baby monitor speaker is on the coffee table, and his clothes are thrown about on the furniture. He hadn’t slept on the bed since the day you passed, it was too much to feel that you were still here. His mind kept telling him that you were going to come to bed any minute. 

His phone clicks open with a ding, notifications are displayed in a row, and he scrolls through them. Weather notifications, messages from his friends, emails from his boss, notifications from the baby monitor, and menial ads. Friday. It’s already Friday. He can’t remember the last time he went to work, they must’ve fired him by now– he couldn’t even go anyways, Rie would be left alone. Togame rubs his forehead, pulling the skin with his hand. At some point, his stomach growls, and he can’t recall when he last ate. The fridge is empty and barren, aside from condiments and beers on the door– aside from the rotting orange in the fruit compartment. A dark green fungus eats away at the flesh, skinning the peel off, and torments the orange. It passes away, unable to endure. 

The tab presses into the can, breaking the seal, and a sizzle rips out. He raises the rim to his lips and drinks the liquid down. Six large gulps flow down his throat, but he tastes malt– he tastes malt. Immediately Togame runs to the sink and coughs into the stainless steel basin. What did he just do? He sticks his fingers into the back of his mouth until he regurgitates all the liquid up– or until he thinks he has. Beads stick to his lashes, falling when he blinks, snot is running out his nose, and his entire chin is coated with saliva. He gags. Togame didn’t even notice that he grabbed a can of alcohol, not even processing what he was doing. He curses, wipes his chin dry, and pours the rest of the beer down the drain. How can he drink when Rie’s depending on him, he’s the only one here for her now. If something were to happen to her– he pressed his hands to his face, tugging at his hair. 

He needs help, he can’t even function as a normal individual, so how can he be a father right now? 

Togame texts the first person he can think of, the one who helped him back on his feet when he was stuck under the shade; Sakura Haruka. 

It doesn’t take long for Sakura to show up at his front step, Togame swings open the door before the man can even ring the bell. 

“Sorry, it’s a mess right now. I mean— look at me. I’m a mess.” He dryly chuckles when he sits down on the couch, insulting himself. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I haven’t seen you since–” Sakura stopped himself, he felt it was taboo to mention the funeral of Togame’s wife, especially when Togame barely looked put together. “You need help.” Sakura isn’t well-versed socially, but even he knows that the black-haired man isn’t stable. His two-colored eyes travel up and down, Togame has an overgrown beard– something he has never seen before. Excluding the miserable husband and father, the house was in disarray. Pots and dishes lay dirty in the kitchen sink, trash was spilling out of the bin, and energy drinks littered the coffee table– all the surface tops Sakura could see. 

Sakura isn’t sure if he should ask Togame if he’s okay because he already knows the truth– the man isn’t. 

“I just can’t find time to clean– Rie cries all hours of the day, I need to book a doctor’s appointment for her– she hasn’t been eating that much. I think she’s losing weight– she feels lighter.” Togame furrows his brows in dread as he lists everything he needs to do to Sakura. “I’m trying, but it just…isn’t enough.” 

“Did you drink?” Sakura spots the beer can on the counter. 

“I did– I chucked it up though. I didn’t even see what I was drinking,” he laughs, “isn’t that crazy? I think I’m going crazy. If she was here–” Togame voice cuts off. He’s so pathetic without you, he thinks. 

“Can I call someone?” Sakura asks. 

“Sure– yeah, go ahead.” 

A few people show up: Umemiya, Kotoha (people Sakura thinks are good with kids), Suo, and Nirei (people who popped into his mind right away). 

Because Sakura is in unfamiliar territory, he cannot comprehend how Togame is feeling, and he definitely doesn’t know anything about child-rearing. 

Togame showers as they all help clean up the house. Kotoha is tending to Rie, accessing his concern about her lack of eating. He’s using the guest bathroom since he’s also been avoiding the bathroom you use, all your stuff is there, and even strands of your hair are still on the bath mat. The hot water slithers all over, washing away the dirt that’s been stuck to his skin. He can hardly recognize himself in the mirror when he wipes away the fog, revealing his unruliness. He can’t remember the last time he had let his beard grow out this much, he doesn’t think he ever did. So, he shaves— for the first time in weeks. 

When he steps out into the living room, Kotoha is bouncing Rie in her arms. Togame never talked to her before, though he knew that she was Umemiya’s little sister. Rie squeals and giggles, flapping her arms around. For a split second, he sees you. You’re the one holding his daughter– your daughter. Bobbing her up and down, kissing her cheeks, and smiling so warmly at your bundle of joy. Toagme’s breath hitches and he digs his nails into his hand in an effort to stop himself from crying in front of everyone. He is so tender in his grief. 

“You should see a psychologist.” Umemiya hands him a glass of water. 

“I need to take Rie to the pediatrician first.” 

“Right, you should. But don’t ignore yourself. She needs you to be healthy.” He takes a moment to think. “I can watch over Rie when you go. We all can.” Umemiya suggests. 

“I’ll just take her with me.” Togame places the cup on the table. 

“You need some time alone–” 

“She’s all I have left– what if, what if something happens when I’m not there again.” Togame fists at his pants, “Oh god, I don’t know…” He’s spiraling. 

Umemiya remains silent. He knows Togame is refusing to let Rie out of sight due to fear. “Trust us.” He spoke with sympathy to the widow.

In the shopping center, Togame waits in front of the family bathroom. 

Rie fusses in her stroller uncomfortably. All he can do is rock her until he can change her diaper. Her lip wobbles, she’s on the verge of screaming, and he debates his next action. Whoever is in the bathroom is taking way too long, it's been over 15 minutes. The men’s doesn’t have a changing station and he’s not keen on taking her there anyways. 

“Oh, how she’s so cute.” An old lady peers into the stroller. 

“Thank you.” Togame offers her a small smile. 

“Are you giving mom some time off?” 

Togame opens his mouth to respond, but he can’t form any words. Her unknowing words had skinned him raw. She thinks you’re still alive. People are going about their days not knowing you’re gone, living their lives without the slightest bump. The passersby don’t know that he’s suffering. How can they go on with their lives like nothing happened? He feels angry and then an excruciating sadness. Rie whimpers and it snaps him out of his train of thought. “Sorry, I need to change her diaper.” He doesn’t spare the lady another glance as he unbuckles Rie and takes her into the women’s bathroom. 

A young lady is at the sink fixing her makeup, a college student, Togame thinks. She stares at him wide-eyed. “Um, just– my baby.” He rushes to the large stall in the back, the one he knows has a changing station. When he locks the stall he hears her footsteps disappear, she quickly leaves after seeing him. Togame sighs but continues with tending to Rie. With a fresh diaper on her, he scurries out of the women’s, apologizing on the way out. Some of them give him dirty looks. Sure it annoyed him, but he ignored it, placing Rie back in the stroller and going off on their way. 

The doctor suggested to him to start solid foods. At the appointment, he realized how little he knew about his own daughter. Togame struggled to answer some of the questions because you were the one who took Rie to these visits. He has to be two now. 

The white-coat woman cleared her throat, “Why don’t you call your wife? Is she busy? I usually see her instead.” 

“She passed away.” Togame cringed when he said those words, it was the first time he told someone you were dead. 

She gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” 

He nibbles on the inside of his lip. 

“I can– I’ll print out the papers with things you need, stuff to know for future appointments. Wait a moment here.” She returns with a few papers stapled together. “Rie is quite healthy. You mentioned her eating habits, I believe you’re feeding her too frequently. When babies cry, it doesn’t always mean they’re hungry– here’s a time schedule on when to feed her. I also included some parenting tips in this folder.” The doctor clasps her hands on her lap. “We also offer counseling for single parents here, would you like to make an appointment? There’s also a fully staffed nursery, if you’re struggling with finding someone to look after her– Rie. There are one-on-one talks with a certified therapist and weekly group meetings in the program.” She hands him a pamphlet. 

“I’ll do it.” Togame doesn’t open the pamphlet. He then gets handed an appointment card. 

In front of the baby section, he stares at the text Umemiya’s wife had sent in the group chat. What to get, what to avoid, what to make sure of, and a few links. He follows everything to his best judgment and heads home with a few bags. 

At home, he sits in front of Rie and feeds her the puree out of the jar– or tries to. She sticks her tongue out refusing to take another spoon, slapping her veggie-coated hands against the tray. “Another bite?” Togame holds the spoon out. Rie giggles. “For daddy?” She blows raspberries at him, splattering carrots onto his face. He smiles. He can’t remember when he last laughed. Rie laughs with him, almost jumping out of her seat. “Ah, ah, ah.” Togame smoothes her hair back. With a last attempt, he wiggles his arm around, doing something he’s seen in movies. “Here comes the airplane~” he coos and it works, she opens her mouth up and licks the puree up. Togame bellows out a laugh, slapping his thigh at how comical the scene was. He looks around to see if you’re laughing too. 

But you’re not here. 

Rie sleeps in her crib, all cleaned up and dozing the night away. Togame stands over her, watching her chest rise and fall. He doesn’t know how to prepare her for life, how to teach her things her mother would be there for, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s anxious and backed into a corner, it’s daunting. Can he do it without you? If he kept you longer, pulled you down to tickle you, and if that driver didn’t drink– you were his anchor and how he’s drifting around in the waters, being dragged out by the riptide. He cried that night, alone on the couch. 

The bank website shows how low his balance is, he doesn’t have any current source of income. His legs shake as he checks the accounts, there’s still a hefty sum in the savings, and there’s Rie’s college fund. He can use the joint savings for the bills, but when it’s used up, what will he do? The house was mid-sized with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It was manageable with a stable income from him and your remote job, but now there’s none of that. All of his time is spent on Rie, she’s not yet one. He can’t give up the house– it was your dream. You’re still all around– he hasn’t entered the bedroom in months, and your things are right where you left them. 

“You’re thinking pretty hard.” Sakura peeps at the laptop, “What’re you lookin’ at?” 

“Bills.” Togame scratches his head. Sakura and Kotoha had come by this evening. 

“Is it bad?” Sakura asks and gulps. 

“It’s not bad yet, but it will be.” 

“If money’s a problem, I can chip in,” Kotoha speaks up. “It’s the right thing to do.” 

“Me too.” Sakura chimes in. 

“You guys are already helping enough…” 

“Listen, do you see your situation? You’re not in any position to deny help.” Kotoha squints her eyes at him while stroking Rie’s back. He can’t say anything else back, “Thank you.” 

Sakura coughs, “So, why’d you ask for boxes?” 

“I just wanna organize her stuff. I– I haven’t been in our bedroom in a while, because I’m scared. I’m scared of moving her things– packing her away. It feels like I’m removing her presence…but at the meeting, they said I would need to do it eventually. I know I’m putting it off– but, but…it just sucks.” Togame takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to face it– face that she’s gone, even her office– I can’t bring myself to open the door. Because it feels like she’s on the other side, sitting in her chair. I don’t want to open it and not find her there.” He spills himself out. “This is her home too.”

They fall silent, lips shut tight. “We’ll help you,” Sakura spoke, his voice was wobbly. “I’ll stay the night. I don’t have anything tomorrow.” Togame nods appreciating the younger man’s support. Kotoha holds Rie tighter. 

The first thing they tackle is the bedroom. The sheets are stripped, leaving the mattress bare, and the socks you left on the carpet are thrown into the laundry bin. There’s a large box on the dresser, the one he received from the funeral service provider as the next of kin. Inside contains all the things you had on you at the time of death. Kotoha is sorting things out in the bathroom next door, sorting your cosmetics and trinkets. With shaky hands, he opens it for the first time. Your bag, jewelry, and shoes are all in this one box. The clothes are gone, they were too soaked in blood to be returned. He holds the shoes in his hands and places them on the floor. There are little brown spots on it. The next item is a plastic bag, containing your earrings, bracelets, and your ring. The one he gave you. He sniffles. In your bag, he finds your phone, lip balm, hairbrush, compact mirror, wallet, and a Polaroid. A photo of your family; you, him, and Rie. His lungs shake. Your phone is now in his hands, there’s still some battery left in it since it lights up. He unlocks it, and the first thing he sees is a direct message log. It’s to him, there’s something in the text bar: I’ll be home soon, love you. 

Togame breaks down, he transforms into a puddle on the floor. Sakura and Kotoha find him pressing the phone to his forehead as he sobs. He passes away, unable to endure. 

They stop there for the day. The next morning, they work the kitchen out. The mixer you hadn’t yet touched gets placed into the to-sell box. The juicer is kept, he can’t part with it and he plans on using it. Togame’s body moves without thought, his brain is too tired to keep up, but if he rests, he’s uneasy and something gnaws at him from the inside. Next, the office. 

The door handle sticks dust to his hand when he pushes it down. The curtains are still open, the chair is pushed in, and you’re not anywhere to be found. Spiderwebs are nestled in every nook and cranny, a layer of dust settled over the desk, and your mug has coffee stains in it. He holds the ceramic in his hands, “I want to keep this room as is– I think I’m going to use it as my office.” Kotoha and Sakura nod, so instead, they tidy the room up. 

Sakura surveys the shelves, photo frames are lined up, and your degree is placed in the middle. He feels like he is intruding into your personal space. It’s now an empty room, but it was once bursting with life. A red box catches his eye, it’s placed on the very top, and he stands on his tippy-toes to reach it. It’s in his hands, he pulls the top off, and inside contains letters. Sakura doesn’t read them, but he senses they are important. He places the top back on, “Where should I put this?” 

Togame turns around, “Hmm? What’s that?” He takes the container from Sakura and peeks inside. He knows what it is. The paper sides of the box dents under his tight grip. 

That night, he dreams about you. He returns to that cramped attic, he returns next to you. Your eyes shine– so full of energy, it’s a lovely portrait. Togame can’t hear what you are saying, he doesn’t remember what you were talking about. Ah, that’s right, this is when he asked you out. He so desperately wants to reach out and touch you again, feel your skin against his, kiss your soft lips, hold your warm hands, but he can't because his body doesn’t move. So, he tries to talk to you. 

“I love you, please– please. You must’ve been in pain. I’m sorry I couldn't be there, I’m sorry I didn’t save you, I’m sorry I didn’t text you back, I’m sorry I didn’t hold you back that day. It was scary, wasn’t it? I let you die alone. I’m so, so sorry.” You remain stoic, smiling at him. “Rie’s gotten bigger, she’s eating actual baby food now. I think she’s going to walk soon. It’s almost her first birthday. She resembles you more and more by the day. I miss you. I miss you so much I want to die. Aren’t you going to yell at me for saying that?” Maybe because it’s a dream that his words come out smoothly. Your mouth moves, but he can’t hear anything. You laugh. If you’re happy in this silly dream, does that count? 

A week later he witnesses Rie’s first steps, her first words, and he grieves you at the same time. 

“Come here, Rie. Come to papa.” Togame holds his arms out, she wobbles like a fawn. Puffing her cheeks out, she pushes herself back up to her feet and puts one foot down. She takes four steps and collapses into her father’s arms. Togame picks her up and spins around, Rie shrieks with laughter, throwing her head back. He kisses her forehead, “You did so well sweetheart.” Her eyes squeeze shut before popping open, “Mnnn, mph…” She tries so hard to talk, to use her voice, to communicate. “Po–Pa, Papa!” 

Backpacks are lined out on the displays. Small and box-shaped. Togame had no idea sending a child to school would be so much work. Indoor shoes, uniforms, hand towels, stationary, and the list goes on. Rie is six and is set to enter elementary school in April. She’s her own person and walks with an openness and willingness for joy. It’s a major turning point in her life as she sets out on her academic pursuit. With the community chipping in, the house stayed, and with Rie going to school, Togame decided to do job searching again. He can’t keep depending on everyone else, he gets a visceral urge to continue standing on his own two feet without support. Umemiya and his wife offered to watch over Rie for the afternoons since their kids are also going to the same school. It’s a good idea because Togame no longer feels the fear that she’ll disappear when she’s out of his sight— because he trusts Umemiya. 

With no high school diploma, traditional job hunting wouldn’t work out for him. So, he called up his old coworkers and luckily, one of them said they could introduce him to someone who was hiring. Togame could sense that he wanted to say something, but held back. A few days later, Togame went and met the restaurant owner, with his decent experience and knowledge of the kitchen, he was hired to work late mornings to late afternoons. He could pick up Rie on the way home after she played with the Umemiyas for a few hours. 

It’s midnight and he misses you. He still keeps to his side of the bed, staring at the empty place. Togame stares up at the ceiling, he wants to say he’s come to terms with your passing, but sometimes he’s not okay. Somedays he wants to curl up under the blanket and disappear from the world. The bedroom door creaks open, “Dad…?” 

He sits up, “Rie? What is it?” 

“Can…Can I sleep with you?” 

“Sure– yeah, come here.” Togame pats your side of the bed. She slowly closes the door behind her and creeps over to the mattress. Rie slides under the sheets and lays her head against the pillow. “Are you alright?” Togame pulls the blanket over her and she nods. Her lip gets caught between her teeth as she fiddles with her fingers. 

“Um, dad?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“What is it?” 

“Do you hate mom?” 

Togame’s eyes widen, out of everything he was not expecting his daughter to ask him that. He swallows saliva down, wetting his throat, “What makes you say that?” 

“At school, Kosaka– I heard him say that his dad hates his mom because she left him. Do you hate Mom because she left us?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. 

“I would never hate Mom…I love her just as much as I love you.” 

He loved you and you left him. 

“What was Mom like? Fukasawa was telling everyone about her mom’s new book– I don’t anything about my mom. Did she write books too?” 

“Mom didn’t write books, but she read to you a lot…she read to you day and night. She was wondrous, you take after her in that. Mom’s still reading to you.” He lightly taps her chest, right above her heart, “She’s reading to you in here.” Rie smiles. 

“I want to meet Mom. Dad, do you miss Mom?” 

“I do, I miss her a lot. But since you’re here, she’s also here with me.” 

“If Mom was here…do you think we’d be happy like the Umemiyas?” 

It’s not strange for children to compare themselves to others. Pit their situation against their peers. He’s attended countless meetings, read through hundreds of blogs, and spent years trying to find the right way to tell his daughter that her mother was no longer here. 

“Are you unhappy?” 

Rie shakes her head, “I’m happy– I have you, I have Dad don’t I?” 

“And I have you.” Togame pats the blanket on top of her. 

It’s Rie’s eighth birthday, she’s practically bouncing while waiting in line. Togame purchased train tickets to the aquarium. He took the weekend off to celebrate with her, it's currently the day before her birth. The worker scans his barcodes and they head inside. Rie pulls the map wide open, reading all the exhibits. “Where do you want to go first?” 

“I wanna see the rays! Dad! Can we?” She beams a wide smile, one front tooth is missing. 

“Sure, let’s go, but stay by my side, okay?” 

“Okay!” 

Rie loves manta rays, the face she makes is exactly like the one you made all those years ago. She presses her palms against the large pane of glass, staring up at all the fish with her mouth agape. “What’s that one?” Togame’s eyes follow where she’s pointing, a flat fish. “Let me check,” he pulls his phone out to search for what animal it was. An angelfish. Rie doesn’t listen when he tells her though, too excited about moving to the next tank. He carries a tote bag and the lunch inside weighs his shoulder down. 

“Kame! One more!” Choji raises his hand at the counter. 

“Are you alright?” Sakura pokes at the green onion in his ramen while talking. 

“About?” 

His friends frequent the restaurant he works at and the owner doesn’t mind since it's more business and money. Choji and Sakura frequent the most after their jobs since they have nothing better to do. Sometimes Umemiya and the four old Bofurin kings swing by. Sometimes Kotoha pops in with Rie. Sometimes that eyepatch and freckles come with Sakura. Sometimes Sako, Arima, Kanuma, and Inugami have a meet-up. 

“The anniversary is coming up.” 

“Ah, right… Kame, will you be okay?” Choji frowns. 

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” Togame places another gyoza plate in front of his old leader. 

Even now they worry about him. Reflecting back, he was a mess for the first couple of years. He was angry, consumed in a fit of rage at the loss of his best friend, lover, and wife. That anger is now long gone and what he feels is much softer. Sakura moves on and talks about what his current worries are and Choji pokes fun at him even though he’s also in the same situation. It felt exactly like when they all ate together during after-school hours. They all took different paths, but are all together again. The three men were steadily living life, day after day. Going where the wind takes them. 

Togame and Rie stand in front of the gravesite, where the last remaining pieces of you rest. Your body is long gone. The truth is, you still plague his mind. Because he loved you with his everything, you wholly possess his body every moment. The sun would burn out and collapse before he forgets about you, he’ll remember you longer than the time he knew you. He’ll keep finding you everywhere he goes. The sea salt he uses reminds him of the beach and the bookstores smell like you. Rie looks up at him, “Should we go home now?” She nods and a solemn expression is on her face. Rie doesn’t remember you, but she feels an intense longing for her mother. Togame wraps his arms around her, she’s exactly like you, Rie cries in his arms, soaking his shirt. Among the rows of graves, two souls glow together. 

The world is no longer scary. 

He buys a card at a convenience store.

He writes another letter to no recipient: 

To my darling, 

Happy 46th Birthday. Rie’s in high school now– our baby is now a high schooler. I miss you a lot today. Do you miss me too? I found the candle you love at a store, it’s burning right now. The room smells like you. I want to sit with you again. I want to fold your clothes for you again. You know that cardigan you wore a lot? Rie likes it, so she wears it. It fits her perfectly just like how you wore it. Rie likes peach juice, she uses that juicer you use, and sometimes she makes me some. When we meet again will you praise me? Can you tell me I did a good job with your sweet voice again? I want to hear you speak again. I can’t hear you in my dreams anymore. Do you still love me? I love you. It was an honor to love you and be your husband.

– Your husband, Togame Jo

a/n: I cut it short because I didn’t want to keep writing :P

[bratphilia]

note ✧.*‎ hiii so this is completely self indulgent so pls enjoy!! gonna post a couple fics that have been on my mind bc i wanna write when i feel inspired to as much as possible, but reqs will be answered!! anyways no thoughts just mr. afton eating it from the back.

pairing ✧.*‎ steve raglan / william afton x reader

cw ✧.*‎ stuck and fucked trope, oral sex (f receiving), knifeplay, knife fucking (insp by this post!), the usual perverted afton, death threats, dub con, slight daddy kink

taglist ✧.*‎ @dilfity @iikyutee @kissingrhi @jen-parker @kathxstuff @papyrus-the-poet @lowballbread @cecelovesbooks @bluebearieally @cybunii @van-van @iamunabletothinkofablogname @1ncidentdropout @ice-echo26 @officially-a-simp13 @all4kura @el-sol-sale-de-nuevo @littlexstarlightx @samlow23

synopsis ✧.*‎ while trying to escape the damn haunted pizzeria after a murderous rabbit comes after you, you stupidly try to leave through the vent, only to get stuck.

helpless (w. afton x reader)

you're running through the maze of halls as fast as your legs can carry you. what you're running from, exactly? some fuckhead in a rabbit suit with a knife, menacingly advancing towards you, with a cold, evil laughter reminiscent of a typical villain. there's no doubt in your mind he's set on killing you, and you can't help but feel like this position was a setup for that anyways. it would make sense why the average security guard stays no longer than a work-week.

you're headed to your office, the only place with a quick, sure-fire exit that leads directly outside the building: the vents. then you'll make a run for it to your car. it was an ambitious plan, yes, but it had to work. it was the only option you had, after all, given that the rabbit came from the normal exit.

you swing the door to the security office wide open and slam it shut behind you, cringing at the loud clang it makes when it hits the door hinges. the last thing you want is to alert that rabbit of your whereabouts. you instantly crouch down in front of the vent and unscrew it frantically with your fingers. when it breaks loose you crawl inside. the front half of your body works its way inside just fine. the bottom half of you? fuck.

it gets stuck half way around your hips, leaving no room to wriggle in or out. you were stuck. really fucking stuck. this couldn't be happening. panic washes over you in waves and you feel your sweat break out even worse. you slide your hands forward, desperate to move forward, but it doesn't help. tears form in your eyes. i'm going to die, you think, in the most humiliating position possible.

right on cue, there's a banging on the door. there's no doubt in your mind it's that fucking rabbit. in no time, the door busts open, slamming against the nearby desk in a loud bang. "there you are — oh. what's this?"

you let out a whimper in fear as you hear him shuffle towards you and bend down close by your body. you hear a shifting for a long period of time, and then his voice sounds much clearer. you realize that it was just a costume, different from the sentient animatronics you've been desperately trying to keep out of your office the past four nights. "i was planning to gut you... but i have a much better idea."

suddenly, a large hand rests on your ass, groping. you gulp, realizing his the implications of his touch. "what should i do with you, hm?" the man contemplates out loud. he pulls his hand away only to smack your ass, making you cry out and wiggle your hips automatically.

"what a whore. enjoying being at my disposal, knowing i could fucking kill you at any moment now," he spits at you. fuck, the heat at your core is becoming more and more noticeable the more he talks in that gruff voice of his threateningly. you scared, really fucking scared, and that somehow made this situation hotter.

his hand leaves your ass, then there's the sound of something metallic being picked up off the floor. "i wouldn't move if i were you," the man muses, "'less you want your sweet little body sliced open." before you can process what he said, he brings something to the seam of your pants and it slices through. your eyes widen and you shriek when you realize it's a blade.

you flatten your hands against the cool metal of the vent, already warming up with your sweat and prolonged stay there. it's even harder not to move when you're scared as fuck and can't grip onto anything. he stops once he's satisfied with the way he cut through your pants, and fuck, how will you get out of here with split pants? if you even make it out of here.

with unbelievable strength, he sticks both his hands inside the slit he made, runs the tips of his fingers teasingly along the center of your panties, before ripping the fabric of your pants even wider. when the sound of the fabric coming apart hits your ears, tears burn at your eyes from the shame of thinking about leaving like this. "beautiful," he comments, "what a fucking sight you make."

you blush at his words. he reaches forward to thumb at you through your panties. he prods his thumb at your hole, dipping in the fabric of your panties inside. you can't help but moan quietly. much to your dismay, he notices with a low chuckle. "like i said, absolute whore." you whimper at that. absolute whore. a tear slips down your face.

you forget all about that when he leans forward and presses a kiss to your panties. he lewdly inhales your scent, rubbing his nose against your panties before pressing another kiss there. fuck. you're whimpering uncontrollably. he's such a pervert; you should be embarrassed, but in your undeniable sex-craving haze, all you want him to do is pull your panties to the side and ravage you.

like you manifested it or something, he does just that. except he stretches your panties and the blade returns, slicing through the useless fabric. he lets out a low whistle at your supposedly shiny slick. "just as i thought. needy little slut, so desperate for daddy's touch."

"mhm," you murmur, resting your head down on your hands. you're so fucking horny at this point, that you want to be at the mercy of your captor.

"mhm," he parrots back to you. his face moves forward to slowly lick a stripe up your cunt.

"oh fuck," you mumble, shaking. he repeats the action, laughing slightly at your reaction while doing so. his hands come forward to part your lips, diving in fully. he shakes his face against your cunt and you feel the tickling sensation of a beard there, making you jolt.

the obscene noises he makes add to your wetness. he slurps around, suctioning his lips all over. he leaves no place untouched. he quickly smacks kisses against your clit before tongue-fucking your sobbing hole. he flicks his insanely long and tongue inside of you. you're crying and babbling incoherent words as he tortures you.

you're so close already. the way he alternates between sucking your bud into his mothing and then fucking into your hole is too much. thinking about the fact that you're completely at his mercy, nothing to grip on to, clawing desperately at the metal of the vent, practically tips you over the edge alone. just as you feel the pulse of your cunt quicken—

it's all over too soon. he removes his tongue and you cry out into the vent frustratingly, ignoring the way your voice bounces off the walls. he rests his head against your ass and listens to you sob and then coos, "aww, poor baby. i almost feel bad."

"please," you cry softly, tears running down your face.

"gonna have to be more specific, sweet thing, 'm not a mind reader, y'know." but you can't. you can't bring yourself to say you want him to fucking smother his face in your cunt. it's too embarrassing to utter, even after you shamelessly backed into his face.

he clicks his tongue. "no? well, that's a shame. if you can't say it, guess i'll just do whatever i want with you."

before you can question what the hell that means, something is shoved inside of you. not his cock, much to your dismay, but something blunt, something that stretches you out. you realize, the only thing it could possibly be, that fucking knife.

he slides it in and out, laughing at your reactions. fuck, he's so fucking cruel. your fear only adds to your arousal, and you're soaking the stick of his knife. you hate to admit it, but this probably the second best thing to his cock.

before you know it, you're drenching his knife with your orgasm. you cry out desperately into the vent. the way it echoes into the cavern is music to his ears. you slam your hands against the vent and shake uncontrollably. he slowly pulls the knife away, intentionally torturing you as you hiccup in sobs. you're fucked out already, in a state of absolute post-sex haze.

he presses a surprisingly soft kiss against one globe of your ass and rubs on it. as you calm down, he's cooing at you again, whispering about how you're such a good girl for him, did so well.

[redactedrem]

You know what? Fuck you. *Ponifies Batman*

Guys I'm so excited to share my newest project of ponifying the Batfam, it started out small with the hypothetical "I wonder what Batman would be like in a mlp universe." And then the project kept getting bigger and bigger.

If anyones interested in my world building/ headcanons surrounding this project, you can see it under the cut. (I didn't want to make the post too long.)

Incase anybody couldn't read my bad handwriting, I gotchuuu.

-(First pic) Bruce Wayne: Bruce had got his cutiemark the night of his parents death, after the grief had broken his spirit and he realized that he never wanted anypony else to feel the same pain as he does. (He has a fake cutiemark to cover up his obvious destiny)

- The first pic is pretty self explanatory, but I want to make it clear that Bruce's destiny isn't "My parents are dead so now I dress up as a bat and beat up mentally ill folk". Because I've seen people on here give hot takes on cutiemarks that directly link them to a ponies destiny.

This goes for specifically in the mlp fandom but (for the sake of being on topic) I'll use the the example of that one post where someone gave the hot take that Jason would get his cutiemark in the warehouse right before he dies (or after he dies? smthing like that) because "It would be really fucked up to know that you were always destined to die." And listen, I can appreciate some good Jason Todd whump as the next guy but knowing that this would be based in a mlp universe . . . just doesn't sit right with me.

It sounds less magical that way. Its like saying that Rainbow Dash was always meant to be the fastest flyer, so theres no point in trying to compete with her. So uhm, trying to stay on topic here. My personal hot take is that a pony's cutiemark is symbol of something that they do/ a skill or talent that they have that makes them happy. And whats a more magical and fulfilling destiny than doing something that makes you happy for the rest of your life?

Looping back to Bruce, he didn't get his cutiemark the moment his parents died, but I like to think that he got it sometime later on in the night. After hours of being checked on by the police, getting looked at by the paramedics, and after Alfred took him home. Its 1:40ish in the morning and tiny foal-Bruce is just staring at his bedroom wall feeling numb and dissociated to hell. And sometime after processing everything that night- he just decides that this is the worst thing that has ever happened to him and that he will do anything to make sure that nopony will ever feel the same pain that he has felt. And then-- Ta da!! Cutiemark!! Too bad neither he or Alfred got to experience the excitement when they both saw it the next day :')

(Edit: I didn't know where to put this detail, but Bruce's fake cutiemark is based off of the "Make It Wayne" TV logo from this fanfic here )

-(Second pic) The Bat: This is heavily inspired by Flutterbat, I know theres canonically already a race of bat ponies made from Lunas stunt as Nightmare Moon. But I chose to go through with the Flutterbat route because batponies are a race, and have bat-like features 24/7. In comparison Fluttershy maintains her pegasus appearance by day and transforms into Flutterbat at night (ALSO with there being implications that there are "Triggers" for her transformations in the day too!!) Which adds the "Vampire." right in front of her batpony title.

I might do a lil comparison chart between vampire batponies and regular batponies in the future or something. But for now I'm focusing on my batpony Bruce Wayne headcanons so yea. My point is that I felt like making Bruce a "vampire" batpony would give him a more solid secret identity with also the bonus of a really metal origin story.

Now we all know that the canonical origin story of batman is that a few months after the tragedy of his parents death, Bruce had fallen into a cave? a well? a pit? of bats and triggered a fear of bats since then. Later on he decides to become Batman so he can invoke the fear of bats he once had into the criminals of Gotham. Yadda yadda yadda.

Now canonically, we don't know the exact science on how Fluttershy turned into Flutterbat. What we do know is that at the time, pony magic is not researched enough for Twilight to be aware that Fluttershys "Stare" is her own form of pony magic and that it would interfere with Twilights spell.

Do you see where I'm getting at here? Uhmm don't ask me what exactly happened in the cave, I'm doing this for fun and thinking about it too hard makes me spiral. But uhmm something something- Bruce looked at a bat in the eye and decided to embrace his biggest fear to fuel his cause, and his already traumatized and fucked up pony magic had transformed his body- something something. (Edit: I didn't think about this until now but maybe Fluttershys "Stare" and Bruces "Bat Glare" could be a usage of the same form of magic? Just a thought)

I'll probably come up with a more suitable explanation in the future, but like I said. All of this is just for fun.