Face the never-ending nightmare!

joseph (he/they). thirty-five. asgore and m. bison stan. pfp by: @tekkenenjoyerblue

[a-silly-poll-side-blog-yay]

The main character of the last TV show you watched is now your therapist. How’s it working for you?

^

good

bad

great

awful

results

Voting ended onAug 21, 2025

[catarsisol]

pinterest tag game !!

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ "𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 + 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒," 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒.

Tagged by @voltobautamons!

No tag—have at it (if you would like to)!

[catarsisol]

Simple OC Asks

What is something that your OC would never purchase for themselves, but would be (secretly?) delighted to receive as a gift?

Josef is a weird one—it can be hard to shop for him, mostly because if there’s something he wants, there’s a good chance he’s already gotten it for himself. But adding to something he already enjoys? Like a few of his favorite snacks or a five-pack of cigars? That’ll have him grinning from ear to ear. Although, chances are, he’ll probably be happy with anything you get him.

Vinnie is an easy man to please—just knowing you thought of him means the world. You could get him a cigar or two, a card with a heartfelt message, or even something from a vending machine, and it’d make him happy. But a gift made just for him—something personal and deliberately chosen? That’s the kind of gesture he never expects but never forgets. One of the most meaningful gifts he’s ever received was a monogrammed bathrobe—a little indulgent, but undeniably his.

Is your OC ticklish? Has anyone ever dared to find out?

Josef is extremely ticklish—so much so that it can be hilariously debilitating. Just about every spot on him is ticklish if you do it just right.

Vinnie, on the other hand, isn’t especially ticklish—but hit the right spots, like his armpits, the backs of his knees, or the soles of his feet, and he’ll be squirming and laughing his ass off in no time.

How easy does your OC find it to apologize?

Josef doesn’t take apologies lightly, but when he does apologize, he avoids overdoing or forcing it. He listens carefully, hanging on to your every word and giving you all the time you need to speak your mind. It definitely weighs on him, and he may struggle a bit before actually apologizing because he wants to mean every word. When he does apologize, he keeps his eyes on you, his voice calm, and offers a gentle touch on your arm or hand to ground his words and show how genuine he truly is.

Vinnie isn’t one to apologize quickly, but when he does, he means it. For the smaller stuff—like being a little too gruff or short—he usually makes it up to you by bringing you a drink, fixing something, or giving you a quiet shoulder squeeze while murmuring an apology in your ear. But if it’s something more serious, you can tell it weighs on him. He’ll come to you directly, face to face, full eye contact (if you’re okay with that), offer a heartfelt apology, and—if you’ll let him—pull you into a hug to back it up with something real.

When did your OC first see a dead body? If they have not seen one yet, how might they react to doing so?

Josef once saw a dead dog when he was much younger, on the way back from a fishing trip with his parents—and he had no idea what to make of it. It was his first real encounter with death, and it left him unsettled in a way he couldn’t quite name. As for a person, it was likely his grandmother at her funeral. Seeing her in the casket didn’t bring him to tears—it just left him numb, unsure of how to feel. Death didn’t start to truly affect him until his more immediate family members began to pass away, which left him with a lingering, mild death anxiety. Thankfully, though, he’s always been able to keep his work separate from his personal life—those he’s brought to their end don’t appear to trouble him in the slightest.

Vinnie first saw a dead body when he was rather young—his great-grandfather laid out in a polished casket at a full-blown Italian Catholic funeral. The incense was thick, the choir sang in Latin, and the rosary beads were draped just right in the old man’s folded hands. Vinnie sat still, wide-eyed, taking in the solemnity and spectacle. It didn’t scare him, no, but it did leave a mark—the first time he realized death was something real and inevitable. Sometime later in his youth, though, the lesson got sharper. His grandfather brought him along on an “errand” in Brooklyn and told him to wait in the car. Vinnie didn’t listen. He wandered into a warehouse and caught sight of a man slumped on the ground—blood dried, eyes glassy. No ceremony, no decorum, just raw, silent finality. Vinnie didn’t cry or run. He just stared. That moment didn’t haunt him, but it steeled him in a quiet, permanent way. From then on, death wasn’t a mystery. It was just part of the landscape.

Is your OC stingy with their money (or other resources)? Or are they something of a spendthrift?

Josef isn’t stingy in the slightest. He’ll trip over himself to pay for meals or pick up anything a friend might need. He doesn’t like the idea of someone “borrowing” money from him—he feels it carries the wrong kind of weight. Instead, he’d rather just give it freely, no strings attached, so they don’t have one more thing to stress over. This generosity has left Josef’s savings account a little on the small side, but he sleeps easy knowing that his friends, family, or anyone close enough to him won’t find themselves in a tight spot because he held back. Of course, he keeps his bills paid and responsibilities handled, so he can afford to be a little more spendthrift when it comes to the people who matter most.

Vinnie, on the other hand, tends to stash a good chunk of his paycheck into savings the moment he gets it. Not because he’s stingy—just practical. He likes knowing his necessities are covered without having to think about them. But once all that’s squared away, he’s not all that different from Josef. He gets a deep sense of satisfaction from spoiling the people close to him. And after spending enough time with Joe, he’s picked up that same mindset about lending money: if someone he cares about is in a bind, he’d much rather give them what they need than watch them struggle with the burden of paying it back.

Does your OC have a sweet tooth? Or do they prefer to avoid sweets and sugary treats?

Josef doesn’t have a major sweet tooth, but there are a few indulgences he holds in especially high regard. Anything with raspberry-chocolate flavoring? He’ll make a beeline for it—whether it’s ice cream, gelato, candy, or anything else he can get his hands on. The same goes for anything s’mores-related. Anyone who knows Josef knows to bring him s’mores treats to try; he’s made it a personal mission to sample and rank every version he can find. He also enjoys classics like cheesecake and tiramisu, or a dessert tea when he’s settling in for a quiet evening. As for fruit, anything ending in -berry tends to catch his eye, though apples have their place too. Healthy sweets? Definitely not off the table.

Vinnie, however, absolutely has a sweet tooth—contrary to what you might expect from a man of his physique. He loves classic Italian pastries like cannoli, with their crisp shells and creamy ricotta filling dusted in powdered sugar. Tiramisu ranks high on his list too—the bittersweet espresso-soaked ladyfingers paired with mascarpone offer the perfect balance of sweet and strong. And no true New Yorker would turn down cheesecake, especially one with just the right tang and graham cracker crust. For something quick, a scoop or two of espresso or matcha ice cream—or even a protein shake—often does the trick. The usual fruits and whatnot are nice too; he’s not afraid of healthy sweets. Candy isn’t his thing, so when he wants something sweet, it’s always intentional.

Where is somewhere your OC has visited that they never want to visit again?

Josef would never want to set foot in that old church from his childhood—not because of the pews or cold floors, but because of the crushing pressure he carried there as the golden child. Every visit felt like walking a tightrope, with all eyes fixed on him, waiting for the perfect words, flawless behavior, and the impossible standards he was expected to meet. There was no room for mistakes or doubts—only an endless performance he could never sustain. That weight pressed down on him heavily in his youth, turning the so-called sanctuary into a cage he eventually managed to escape.

Vinnie wouldn’t want to go back to the aftermath of that warehouse fire on the outskirts of Brooklyn, a job he took on in his early thirties. The place was in ruins—charred beams, collapsing walls, and thick layers of soot blanketing everything. The smell of burnt wood and chemicals hung heavy in the air, clinging to his skin and clothes. What hit him hardest wasn’t the destruction itself, but what they found buried in the debris: the remains of someone trapped inside—a victim they couldn’t save. The sight cut deeper than any fight or scar. It was raw, cold, and utterly hopeless. Vinnie finished the job out of duty, but the weight of that place stayed with him for weeks. Too much loss, too much silence. Given the choice, he’d steer clear of places like that forever.

Is your OC ever somewhat flirtatious?

Josef is a low-key flirt—quiet but still extremely magnetic. He’s not flashy or over-the-top; instead, his charm lies in subtlety and control. A lingering glance, a carefully chosen word, or that calm, confident way he carries himself—all draw people in without him needing to say much. He knows how to push just the right buttons with an intensely measured approach, never rushing or forcing things. His flirtation is more about presence than grand gestures, a slow burn that keeps others intrigued. When he gets playful, it’s deliberate and sharp, reflecting his sharp mind and emotional insight. It’s safe to say that Josef’s kind of charm is quiet but powerful, leaving a lasting impression.

Vinnie is very much a flirt—bold, unapologetic, and downright magnetic. His charm hits hard and fast, wrapped up in that deep, gravelly New York voice and those intense eyes that lock onto you like he means business. He doesn’t waste time with subtlety; his teasing remarks, crooked grin, and confident swagger make it clear he’s focused on you. His flirtation isn’t just in what he says—it’s in how he moves, the deliberate way he brushes a hand against yours, or holds you a moment longer than necessary. Vinnie flirts with purpose and passion, with something of a raw, unfiltered charm that pulls you in whether you’re ready or not.

[catarsisol]

I've not posted here in forever—just been lurking about liking things. I really should try to be more active here. So, to dust off this blog, let me christen it with a writing of my two OCs. I call this one 'Stache and Steel' and it's just a skosh shy of 1,300 words. Enjoy!

“So, the big man hired you as my muscle, huh?” Josef scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Like I need it.” He heaved a deep sigh, glancing sidelong at the towering bruiser before him. The way Vinnie stood there—massive, solid as a wall, with that unmistakable presence—made the smaller man roll his eyes. “Perfect. Just what I needed—babysitting another Johnny,” he muttered under his breath.

“The big man says you’re worth watchin’ out for—somethin’ worth protectin’,” Vinnie replied, hooking his rubber-clad thumbs into his belt loops. His green eyes flicked over Joe’s sharp-dressed frame, taking in the compact muscularity beneath the well-tailored red suit. With a slow step, he closed the space between them, his gravelly voice steady.

“Can’t say I disagree—yet,” Vinnie added with a little tease, lifting his head in a mock glower. He took a long puff from his thick cigar, the smoke curling around his square jaw, rough with a thick layer of stubble.

Josef didn’t blink, nor dignify that comment with a reaction—just offered a quiet hmph, arms still folded like the whole situation failed to impress him. “As much as I admire the big man,” Josef muttered, voice low and measured, “I can’t help but question his logic sometimes.” He shook his head slowly, hazel eyes finally rising to meet the gaze of the mountain standing across from him. “Vincent… Denucci, was it?”

“De Souza, pal,” Vinnie corrected him quickly—sharp, but not rude. “I know. Weird name for a guy like me, but that’s what happens when your nonno goes into hidin’ from the feds.” A gravelly chuckle escaped him, the cigar bobbing in his teeth as smoke spilled from the corner of his mouth.

The raspy guffaw caught Josef’s attention. He clocked the gold glint of a canine tooth beyond the haze—unexpected, but not out of place on a man like Vinnie. The big man wasn’t showy, but nothing about him felt half-measured either. That kind of detail? Something about it just stuck.

Josef’s stance budged just a little, the soft creak of leather gloves filling the space as he folded his arms tighter. Behind that measured stare, something danced—something sharp, something amused, even.

----------

Some time later…

“All right,” his baritone broke through the silence, “you’ve got my attention,” his voice low and smooth, carrying a subtle warmth just beneath the surface. The ice around him cracked just enough for a smirk to tug at the corner of his handlebar mustache.

“Guess it’s about time we got to know each other a little better, huh?” Josef said, pausing for a beat, his eyes darting around as his mind churned. Vinnie stood with his arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took a slow drag from his thick cigar. The smoke curled lazily around his square jaw, giving him a laid-back edge.

Then Josef snapped his fingers. “So—where’re you from?”

Josef leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. “Actually, lemme try...” His voice softened, stretching the last syllable as he stroked his thick beard with a gloved hand, sizing Vinnie up. “Queens?”

Vinnie’s brow furrowed briefly, the ember at the cigar’s tip glowing brighter as he took another long pull, then shook his head with a low chuckle, stepping a little closer. “Nah, nah,” he said, voice rough but warm, the smoke trailing from his mouth like a slow exhale. “Not Queens.”

Josef narrowed his eyes, smoothing the center of his mustache like he was pulling a memory from the back of his mind. Vinnie stood steady, cigar balanced between thick fingers, green eyes locked on Josef’s, patient and steady. Then, suddenly, it clicked—Josef snapped his fingers and pointed right at him.

“Wait—no! Brooklyn!” Josef’s baritone burst out, rich and sudden with the snap of realization.

“Ayyy, ya got me!” Vinnie said, raising his rubber-clad hands in mock surrender as a grin stretched across his broad face. “Born ‘n raised, pal. Nonno was in the mob back in the day, see, but he got out before things got real bad.” Another chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, his green eyes twinkling like he was pulling a fond memory off a dusty shelf.

Josef’s face softened even more, a smile wrinkling his angular features, feeling as though he’d made a new friend. “Your looks betray your name some—guess we’re a lot more alike than I thought.” He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, my great-grandpa was in the mob too. Long gone before I was born, but my dad used to tell stories—said Great-grandpa Giuseppe didn’t exactly live a quiet life.”

Vinnie’s grin faltered—just for a heartbeat—before a low, surprised laugh rolled out of him. He took a slow draw off his cigar, then shot a sidelong glance of his own at Joe, though with a substantial amount more warmth.

“Did ya say… Giuseppe?” he asked, bassy voice booming with sudden interest. He squinted at Josef like he was seeing him in a whole new light. “My nonno… he used to talk about this guy—had a close friend back in the day, ran with him for years. Always called him Peppe—said he was sharp—had a real mean temper, too.”

He barked a short laugh, rolling the cigar between his fingers as if weighing the thought. Then, shifting gears, Vinnie nodded toward Joe with a playful tilt of his head.

“So, what about you? Where you from, pal? You don’t seem the Brooklyn type.”

Josef’s smirk deepened as he relaxed just a little. “Starshine—small mountain town down south. Quiet—sticks with you. Had family up and around there, though.”

Vinnie took a slow, thoughtful puff from his cigar, the glowing ember lighting up his face slightly. “Starshine, huh? Never been, but I like the sound of that.” He exhaled the smoke in a smooth, steady stream. “Quiet’s good. Means there’s more under the surface.”

Joe nodded, letting that sink in. Then suddenly, something snapped. His eyes sharpened as the name hit him—Peppe. He blinked, as if hearing it clearly for the first time, then his gaze locked on Vinnie with sudden disbelief.

“Wait… Peppe?” His voice was rough, incredulous. “That’s what I used to call my grandpa.” He ran a hand through his hair, stepping closer, breath catching. “No way. No way… you’re telling me our grandfathers ran together?”

Vinnie’s eyes widened, and for a moment, the giant was completely silent. Then a gentle, almost disbelieving chuckle escaped him as he studied Josef’s face again.

“No shit… Peppe’s your bisnonno? You’re damn near a spittin’ image of him.” His voice softened, almost reverent, and he pressed the heel of his glove to his mouth, shaking his head slowly like all the pieces were finally falling into place. “I’m surprised the resemblance didn’t hit me sooner!”

“Yeah,” Vinnie continued, his tone rough but fond. “Nonno talked about your Peppe all the time. Said he was sharp as a tack, always had somethin’ cookin’ up here.” He tapped his temple with a gloved finger. “Told me once, if he ever got pinched, he hoped Peppe’d be the one to pull him outta the fire.” Another low, warm chuckle rolled out. “Loyalty like that sticks with a man.” He let out a breath, shaking his head as he slipped the cigar back between his teeth, the glow lighting up his gold canine as he exhaled. “Jesus, Stache… this world’s smaller than we think.”

“You can say that again.” Josef shot him a glance, this time with a wide, toothy grin. “And hey… Wait a second. Stache?”

“Yeah—Stache,” Vinnie said with a low chuckle, nudging Josef lightly with a thick elbow. “You got a presence, just like your bisnonno. That ‘stache matches his and was the first thing that jumped out at me.” He took a slow pull from his cigar, ember flaring as he spoke through the smoke. “See, I give nicknames to the folks that leave an impression—the ones I like.”

Vinnie paused for a second, his grin growing a bit lopsided around the stogie, his eyes lingering on Joe. “After all… ain’t every day the past reaches out and shakes your damn hand.”

“Well then, Titan—let me do just that—it’s only fair I reintroduce myself…” Josef extended a gloved hand, that sharp smile lighting up his face. The nickname came with a teasing lilt—dry, a little sassy, but sincere beneath it all. “Little more polite this time,” he added with a mutter and a glint in his eye. “Josef Urquhart. But you—you can call me Stache. Great-grandson of Giuseppe Cipani. Feels like we’re picking up where they left off.”

Vinnie gave a low chuckle, his broad hand wrapping around Josef’s in a firm, solid shake. “Vinnie de Souza,” he rumbled. “Titan, huh? I like that.” His grin widened, a swath of warmth behind the cigar smoke. “Grandson of Giovanni de Souza. And I think our grandpas’d be smilin’ up at us right about now.”

Josef held the grip a second longer, steady and grounded, his hazel eyes locked with Vinnie’s. That smile of his softened into something quieter, more real.

“Y’know what?” he said, voice low but sure. “I think so too.”

[catarsisol]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Itonokogiri Keisuke | Dick Gumshoe, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Beginnings, Fluff, Memories Summary:

I wanted to write something cute about my favorite new character and the idea for this came to me rather suddenly. There's very likely some imperfections as I just threw this together as quickly as possible with very little editing afterwards. Regardless though, hope you enjoy!

(Story under cut.)

Growing up poor meant you couldn't always get those clothes or shoes at the department store you wanted, so often you had to go for the next best thing. However, even when you get older, old habits die hard and after a bad day, sometimes a bit of familiar comfort goes a long way.

The gentle entry bell to the thrift store rang. It was one of Dick's favorite thrift stores, he's been going here for as long as he can remember.

"Good evening, Ritchie!" The elderly woman smiled. She had known the detective ever since he was but a boy.

"Evening, Ms. Genevieve!" The detective returned, in an attempt to hide any pain from the salary cut he received almost immediately upon his new position.

Gumshoe's eyes scanned the aisles, there wasn't anyone around. It was about 45 minutes till close, though, and on a late autumn no less

The man pondered where to start combing through first, heaving a sigh once he felt he was out of sight enough from the clerk.

There were the books and as always, they were plentiful.

From Goodnight Moon to paperback Tolstoy. Contrary to what many people think of him now, Dick did a lot of reading growing up. If he didn't have any homework and it was any of his siblings' turn on the console, there's a good chance he was reading. He would read anything he could get his hands on. Fantasy was a young Gumshoe's favorite, often playing pretend he could cast spells and make potions.

Dick's eyes fell upon an old-school television with knobs on the side, though with a sticker reading "DOES NOT WORK" blemishing the wood top. Regardless, it reminded him of a television his family had in his youth, he and his siblings taking turns playing a game console together, rotating after every game over. Sometimes someone's turn would take what felt like an unreasonable amount of time, but that didn't matter, it was time he spent with family anyway.

Remembering that got a soft, warm chuckle out of him. He would have to message his siblings later about his discovery. Perhaps he could pick it up sometime and repair it.

VHS tapes... DVDs... Even a stray video game or two. The electronics aisle was always Gumshoe's favorite, always managing to find so many hidden gems over the years.

There was another time that he and one of his siblings found a treasure trove of old school detective movies at this very same thrift store. There were even memories his parents remembered quite fondly from their own youth. Only half of them worked, but that didn't matter, it was another fun memory. Those movies planted the seed for him to become the detective he is today.

Finally... The men's clothing aisle. Dick didn't care much for clothes shopping—never has been for that matter.

He had gotten a few of his suits here for work in the past and much to his surprise, they mostly fit. Any small modifications on clothes, he knew how to make, whether that was patching up holes or hemming pants. Astonishingly enough, it was a skill he had a remarkable degree of competence in; only those with a keen eye could see his repairs.

But there was something new there: an olive green trench coat.

Trench coats were a rare find and even rarer as the years had gone by. Gumshoe had always wanted one, but buying it firsthand was incredibly expensive and would take forever and a day to get.

However, there it was now... And in his favorite color no less.

Carefully, he inspected the long coat while it still hung on the rack. His hand brushing it from lapels to vent.

No holes anywhere...

A bit worn in some places, but still it looked well-maintained...

A sniff test and aside from the typical thrift store aroma, it wouldn't need any extra cleaning...

Those brown eyes twinkled. He pulled it off the rack, a chill of excitement ran up his spine as he shoved the arms into the sleeves hurriedly. Clumsily, he adjusted the lapels. Finally, he threw the attached belt behind him.

Quickly, Dick rushed over to the nearest mirror.

It was cozy.

It was warm.

And it almost perfectly fit.

Any adjustments he could get for it, he could probably get with his next paycheck.

He stood and marveled at himself for a moment. The trench coat atop his suit reminded him of the hard-boiled detectives from those movies he watched growing up. He struck a pose as if no one were watching.

But then he took it off.

He couldn't afford it.

He'd have to wait.

Returning it to the rack with a solemn expression, he was met with a sudden "Ritchie" shouted from behind him.

He turned around and it was Genevieve. "Oh!" He exclaimed, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry... I was just putting this back. Haven't seen one of those in ages here and I had to try it on."

Genevieve chuckles, smiling knowingly. "Quite alright... Why don't you get it?"

"I can't afford it, ma'am." Gumshoe shrunk. "My salary was cut first day because of a mistake I made and—”

"It's yours."

"What?"

"I've seen you around this place since you were knee-high to a grasshopper, dearie. You've always been one of the sweetest people to come into this place. It's yours." Genevieve replied.

"I...— But...—” Gumshoe stammered, taken aback by the kindness. A twinkle in his eye formed.

"Go on now." The older woman smiled brightly. "I know you're going to do good for the world. It's the least I could do for one of my favorite customers."

Slowly, the detective pulled the trench coat back off the rack and put it back on, a smile returning to his face.

"Detective." She says with that smile still on her face.

Suddenly, Dick lunged forward and over, giving the older woman a hug with a few tears streaming down his face. "Thank you, Ms. Genevieve." And in kind, she returns the hug, patting the big man on the back. A few seconds pass and he stands back up.

"Anytime. I could tell you were feeling a bit glum."

Gumshoe opened his mouth, about to protest. But there was no reason to.

"Now, you get going... It's about time for me to close up. Come tell me some stories sometimes, will you?" The clerk asked, looking up into the detective's eyes.

"Of course," a broad smile still on his face as he replied. "Have a good night, Ms. Genevieve.'

Soon, making his way to the exit, he opened the door with that bell chiming once more and closing the door to the store behind him.

[catarsisol]

With finally diversifying my fandoms here... Should I make an intro post like all the cool kids do or nah? I don't want to just look like some fellas that randomly likes and/or reblogs things... Hmm...

[catarsisol]

...You know, there are some ships I love the idea of, but I've never seriously shipped characters before now, but here I am and it's the sweetest ship I've seen in a hot minute. Lord help me.

[mandrakebrew]

i saw this on twitter and i think it's brilliant

behold my fav five

[voltobautamons]

You asked, you receive, my top 5 of all time

[catarsisol]

Aaaaand here's my top five.

[voltobautamons]

I can't believe I need to say this in the Year of Our Lord 2024, but for the love of god, let villains be villains.

[so-worthless-so-empty]

It's painful when your presence is merely tolerated, not cherished.

[lunadreamsdespondently]

You are cherished <3333

[i-like-her-like-that]

Reblog to let prev know that they're cherished, not tolerated

[batcastlesociety]

you are Very cherished indeed, prev :3

[animepopheart]

★ 【黒井ススム】 「 ベガ 」 ☆ ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me! insta • x • bsky

[smirkingcat]

M. Bison

[ang3l-d1nn3r-deactivated2025070]

You and the characters in your lockscreen wallpaper fight god.

How fucked are you?

we got this in the bag

uhh i think we will do okay

ah shit im doomed goodbye everyoneeeee

baldness option/see results/i dont have anyone on my lockscreen

Voting ended onAug 18, 2024

[catarsisol]

[remy2fang]

The timeline of M. Bison between SFV and SF6

SFV

- Ryu defeated M. Bison

- M. Bison died (???)

SF6

- Fast forward to SF6, M. Bison woke up in an alley in Metro City and have no memories.

- He beat the crap out of some street punks and stole their clothes.

- During his search for power, he revived a horse in Mexico and named him Rosinante. He rode him around the world.

- He eventually enters the Neo Shadaloo Ruined Lab because the powers there drew him in.

- He eventually gained some of his memories back by absorbing the Phantom Bison from the psycho power memory generator.

What happened between SFV and SF6? Some clues were found both in-game and from an interview.

- M. Bison wasn’t sure himself, but he conjectured that he must’ve been a rogue spare body and that’s why he’s where he is now.

- According to devs, this is the same M. Bison body from SFV because the cracks and scar from his hand came from his ultimate showdown with Ryu. The fight rendered him as an amnesiac. I’ll take the words from the devs over Bison’s fuzzy memory lol.

- When talking to F.A.N.G aka Fang Fei, he mentioned that Bison’s return was “too soon.” He even mentioned the possibility that a spare body might’ve been activated by mistake, but he wasn’t too sure himself. He then said this Bison is a fake and is imperfect because he doesn’t remember him (but this Bison IS the real deal).

What do I think from all of this?

Bison’s time between SFV and SF6 is a mystery, but the last person that saw Bison’s demise was F.A.N.G. As Bison seemingly “deteriorated” in A Shadow Falls, his body was obscured by both the debris and a distraught F.A.N.G, making his “death” ambiguous. Sometime later, we found out that F.A.N.G believes that Bison is “not truly dead” in the three-part side story TOXICITY.

But then what happened between SFV and Toxicity then? Based on what F.A.N.G said of Bison coming back “too soon” in World Tour mode, that indicates that he knew the estimated timing of when Bison should be fully resurrected (or recovered). If that’s the case, it is possible that F.A.N.G had a hand in “reviving” Bison (the scarred body version from the end of SFV), at least for the initial process. He even mentioned about spare bodies, so that means F.A.N.G might have been present in a lab during the early period. But because the process would take years, F.A.N.G decided to let the reawakening do its thing and have people he employed to look after Bison’s body. From then on, F.A.N.G probably didn’t pay Bison a visit and would assume Bison would come to him when he’s fully awaken. Either F.A.N.G is delusional or there might have been an actual odd camaraderie between him and Bison. I don’t know lol.

If Bison returned too soon, who woke him up in the first place and dumped him off at Metro City? It could be JP because he wanted to do something with him and Ed. But if JP wanted to do something with them, he would have kept Bison close by then, which he didn’t. It’s still possible that JP activated Bison’s body early, but someone else could possibly had their own motives and dropped an amnesiac Bison in a dark Metro City alley. Who could this person be then? That might be revealed in a later update…or not lol. Nevertheless, Bison now resides in the Neo Shadaloo ruined lab…perhaps the pieces are settling in place for JP’s plans afterall…

These are just my thoughts based on what the lore from the game, interview, and side story from the official SFV website provided. It doesn’t confirm anything, but it’s something to get off from my chest. Hopefully the next update will continue on with the Shadaloo story through sub missions.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

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Alt outfit for Echo, basically his mentor assassin look <3

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Now, face the never ending nightmare