newfrost
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Eyes blearily blinked open to meet his own. An unreal, glittering darkness. Brown and purple and red, like garnet, though it was hard to tell exactly what color they were through the red glass of his mask. Akira stared down at him, nearly giddy with relief. Murderer or not, a small part of his teenage brain was thrilled at the chance to play savior with a cute boy in his arms.
He had to say something cool. Joker would say something cool. So he put on a grin that he hoped looked suave and not leery, and raised an eyebrow as he said, “Come here often?”
A few chance encounters change the fates of two wildcards.
Bookmarked by newfrost
23 Jul 2026
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Each night spent the same way: clawing his way through the Shadows in Maruki's Palace all the way to the top, to face the Ruler himself. So far all of his attempts have ultimately ended the same way: he dies. Whether on the way or to Maruki himself hardly matters at this point, because the end result is the same.
He wakes up the next morning as if nothing ever happened. Feeling some twinges, mild aches and pains, at the worst. Only the faintest pulses of his body remembering that it's supposed to be broken. Inoperable. Even those fade within an hour of waking.
Uncomfortable as they may be, part of him savors every moment. If only because it's proof that, even in this saccharine reality, pain still exists. So there may be a slim chance.
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In a 'perfect' world, Goro Akechi still fights.Bookmarked by newfrost
20 Jul 2026
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He’s thought about it before. If he just reached inside, dug his hands in and pulled on the fringes of the collective unconscious, he could bring Akechi back. Could even bring back Isshiki Wakaba, Okumura Kunikazu, and the rest of them if he felt so inclined. He knows he could even if he’s never tried, the power pulsing through his blood, making his fingers twitch. It wouldn’t even be particularly hard. And it wouldn’t have to stop there; if Yaldabaoth could manipulate the masses and Maruki could alter reality to his whim, Akira could do any of those things, and more.
(Turns out, shooting a couple gods in the face makes you something of a god yourself.)
Bookmarked by newfrost
01 Jul 2026
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Joker has a habit of fixing his gloves. Just tugging, stretching at the fabric, playing with the cuffs. He doesn't crack his knuckles like Sakamoto does: he's worse, he pulls at his own fingers and stretches the joints until he hears a satisfying pop. He fidgets with his gloves when he's thinking. And Joker's always thinking about something or another. It's why Goro hated him the most out of these foolish Thieves: he's thoughtful, perfect, meticulous.
Goro's—fixated. Distracted. Attention captured as easily as a bird within a wolf's jaws. And Joker hasn't noticed yet, but he will soon if he can't fucking stop looking.
Joker's got Goro wrapped around his little finger. Literally.
Bookmarked by newfrost
01 Jul 2026
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It was sensuality that felt so addictive to Ren. Unspoken words, jailed to the tip of his tongue, dripping messily onto Akechi's gloved hand as he shook it politely whenever he got to see him. There was a dash of lewdness in their mundane, one gratifying source of being held captive by the scarlet glow within Akechi's gaze. Ren found that the concept of a sensual human fit Akechi well.
Bookmarked by newfrost
29 Jun 2026